“I hope it will, Bessie,” said Dolly. “But you know what a nasty temper I’ve got. If she keeps on talking the way she has, I don’t know what I’ll say.”
“Well, you might as well say what you like, Dolly. I believe she wants a good quarrel with someone–and it might as well be you.”
“You mean you think she likes me to get angry?”
“Of course she does! There wouldn’t be any fun in it for her if you didn’t. Can’t you see that?”
Dolly looked very thoughtful.
“Then I won’t give her the satisfaction of getting angry!” she declared, finally. “Of course you’re right, Bessie. If we didn’t pay any attention at all to her it wouldn’t do her a bit of good to get angry, would it?”
“I wondered how long it would take you to see that, Dolly.”
They were walking back to their own tents as they spoke. Once arrived there, neither said anything about the spirit Gladys had shown. They both felt that it would be as well to let the other girls think that Gladys shared the friendly feelings of the other Halsted girls. And since Bessie and Dolly happened to be the only ones who knew that Gladys had been the prime mover in the trouble that had been made at Lake Dean, it was easy enough to conceal the true facts.
“She can’t do anything by herself,” said Dolly. “Up at Lake Dean nothing would have happened unless the rest of those girls had taken her part against us.”
“I’m going to try to forget about her altogether, Dolly,” said Bessie. “I’m not a bit angry at her, but if she won’t be friends, she won’t and that’s all there is to it. And I don’t see why I should worry about her when there are so manynice girls whodowant to be friendly. Why, what are you laughing at?”
“I’m just thinking of how mad Gladys would be if she really understood! She’s made herself think that she is doing a great favor to people when she makes friends of them–and, if she only knew it, she would have a hard time having us for friends now.”
Charlie Jamieson and Billy Trenwith accepted Eleanor’s pressing invitation to stay for the evening meal, but Trenwith seemed to feel that they were wasting time that might be better spent.
“Not wasting it exactly,” he said, however, when Eleanor laughingly accused him of feeling so. “But I do sort of think that Charlie and I ought to keep after this man Holmes. He seems to be a tough customer, and I’ll bet he’s busy, all right.”
“The only point, Billy,” said Charlie, “is that, no matter how busy we were, there’s mighty little we could do. We don’t know enough, you see.But maybe when I get up to the city, I’ll find out more. I’ll go over the facts with you in Bay City to-night, and then I’ll go up to town and see what I can do with Jake Hoover and Zara’s father.”
“Well, let’s do something, for Heaven’s sake!” said Trenwith. “I hate to think that all you girls out here are in danger as a result of this man’s villainy. If he does anything rotten, I can see that he’s punished but that might not do you much good.”
“I tell you what would do some good, and that’s to let Holmes know that you will punish him, if he exposes himself to punishment,” said Charlie Jamieson. “That’s the chief reason he’s so bold. He thinks he’s above the law–that he can do anything, and escape the consequences.”
“Well, of course,” said Trenwith, “it may enlighten him a bit when he finds that those rascals we caught to-day will have to stand trial, just as if they were friendless criminals. If what you say about him is so, he’ll be after me to-morrow,trying to call me off. And I guess he’ll find that he’s up against the law for once.”
“Did you get that telephone fixed up, Nell?” asked Charlie. “You’re a whole lot safer with a telephone right here on the beach. Being half a mile from the nearest place where you can ever call for help is bad business.”
Eleanor pointed to a row of poles, on which a wire was strung, leading into the main living tent.
“There it is,” she said, gaily. “I don’t see how you got them to do it so fast, though.”
“Billy’s a sort of political boss round here, as well as district attorney,” laughed Jamieson. “When he says a thing’s to be done, and done in a hurry, he usually has his way.”
Eleanor looked curiously at Trenwith, and Charlie, catching the glance, winked broadly at Dolly Ransom. It was perfectly plain that the young District Attorney interested Eleanor a good deal. His quiet efficiency appealed to her. She liked men who did things, and Trenwith was essentiallyof that type. He didn’t talk much about his plans; he let results speak for him. And, at the same time, when there was a question of something to be done, what he did say showed a quiet confidence, which, while not a bit boastful, proved that he was as sure of himself as are most competent men.
Also, his admiration for Eleanor was plain and undisguised. Charlie Jamieson, who was almost like a brother in his relations with Eleanor, was hugely amused by this. Somehow cousins who are so intimate with a girl that they take a brother’s place, never do seem able to understand that she may have the same attraction for other men that the sisters and the cousins of the other men have for them. The idea that their friends may fall in love with the girls they regard in such a perfectly matter-of-fact way strikes them, when it reaches them at all, as a huge joke.
All the girls were sorry to see the two men who had helped them so much go away after dinner, but of course their departure was necessary. Justnow, after the exciting events of the previous night, there seemed a reasonable chance of a little peace, but the price of freedom from the annoyance caused by Holmes was constant vigilance, and there was work for both the men to do. Moreover, the sight of the cheerful fire from the other camp, and the thought of the great camp fire they were presently to enjoy in common consoled them.
“The Halsted girls are going to build the fire,” said Eleanor. “It’s their first ceremonial camp fire, so I told Miss Turner they were welcome to do it. They’re all Wood-Gatherers, you see. So we’ll have to light the fire for them, anyhow. See, they’re at work already, bringing in the wood. Margery, suppose you go over and make sure that they’re building the fire properly, with plenty of room for a good draught underneath.”
“Who’s going to take them in, and give them their rings, Miss Eleanor?” asked Dolly. “You, or Miss Turner?”
“Why, Miss Turner wants me to do it, Dolly, because I’m older in the Camp Fire than she is.She’s given me the rings. I think it’s quite exciting, really, taking so many new girls in all at once.”
“Come on,” cried Margery Burton, then. “They’re all ready and they want us to form the procession now, and go over there.”
“You are to light the fire, Margery. Are you all ready?”
“Yes, indeed, Miss Eleanor. Shall I go ahead, and start the flame?”
“Yes, do!”
Then while Margery disappeared, Eleanor, at the head of the girls, started moving in the stately Indian measure toward the dark pile of wood that represented the fire that was so soon to blaze up. As they walked they sang in low tones, so that the melody rose and mingled with the waves and the sighing of the wind.
Just as the first spark answered Margery’s efforts with her fire-making sticks, they reached the fire, and sat down in a great circle, with a good deal of space between each pair of girls. Eleanortook her place in the centre, facing Margery, who now stood up, lifting a torch that she had lighted above her head. As she touched the tinder beneath the fire Eleanor raised her hand, and, as the flames began to crackle, she lowered it, and at once the girls began the song of Wo-he-lo:
Wo-he-lo means love.Wo-he-lo, wo-he-lo, wo-he-lo.We love love, for love is the heart of life.It is light and joy and sweetness,Comradeship and all dear kinship.Love is the joy of service so deepThat self is forgotten.Wo-he-lo means love.
Wo-he-lo means love.Wo-he-lo, wo-he-lo, wo-he-lo.We love love, for love is the heart of life.It is light and joy and sweetness,Comradeship and all dear kinship.Love is the joy of service so deepThat self is forgotten.Wo-he-lo means love.
Outside the circle now other and unseen voices joined them in the chorus:
Wo-he-lo for aye,Wo-he-lo for aye,Wo-he-lo, wo-he-lo, wo-he-lo for aye!
Wo-he-lo for aye,Wo-he-lo for aye,Wo-he-lo, wo-he-lo, wo-he-lo for aye!
Then for a moment utter silence, so that the murmur of the waves seemed amazingly loud. Then, their voices hushed, half the Manasquan girls chanted:
Wo-he-lo for work!
Wo-he-lo for work!
And the others, their voices rising gradually, answered with:
Wo-he-lo for health!
Wo-he-lo for health!
And without a break in the rhythm, all the girls joined in the final
Wo-he-lo, wo-he-lo, wo-he-lo for love!
Wo-he-lo, wo-he-lo, wo-he-lo for love!
Then Margery, her torch still raised above her head, while she swung it slowly in time to the music of her song, sang alone:
O Fire!Long years ago when our fathers fought with great animals you were their great protection.@When they fought the cold of the cruel winter you saved them.When they needed food you changed the flesh of beasts into savory meat for them.During all the ages your mysterious flame has been a symbol to them for Spirit,So, to-night, we light our fire in grateful remembrance of the Great Spirit who gave you to us.
O Fire!Long years ago when our fathers fought with great animals you were their great protection.@When they fought the cold of the cruel winter you saved them.When they needed food you changed the flesh of beasts into savory meat for them.During all the ages your mysterious flame has been a symbol to them for Spirit,So, to-night, we light our fire in grateful remembrance of the Great Spirit who gave you to us.
Then Margery took her place in the circle, and Eleanor called the roll, giving each girl the name she had chosen as her fire name.
Then Mary Turner, in her new ceremonial robe, fringed with beads, slipped into the circle of the firelight, bright and vivid now.
“Oh, Wanaka,” she said, calling Eleanor by herceremonial name, “I bring to-night these newcomers to the Camp Fire, to tell you their Desire, and to receive from you their rings.”
One by one the girls of the Halsted Camp Fire stepped forward, and each repeated her Desire to be a Wood-Gatherer, and was received by Eleanor, who explained to each some new point of the Law of the Fire, so that all might learn. And to each, separately, as she slipped the silver ring of the Camp Fire on her finger, she repeated the beautiful exhortation:
Firmly held by the sinews which bind them,As fagots are brought from the forestSo cleave to these others, your sisters,Whenever, wherever you find them.Be strong as the fagots are sturdy;Be pure in your deepest desire;Be true to the truth that is in you;And–follow the law of the Fire!
Firmly held by the sinews which bind them,As fagots are brought from the forestSo cleave to these others, your sisters,Whenever, wherever you find them.Be strong as the fagots are sturdy;Be pure in your deepest desire;Be true to the truth that is in you;And–follow the law of the Fire!
One by one as they received their rings, the newcomers slipped into seats about the fire, each one finding a place between two of the Manasquan girls. Marcia Bates, flushed with pleasure, took a seat between Bessie and Dolly.
“Oh, how beautiful it all is!” she said. “I don’t see how any of us could ever have laughed at the Camp Fire! But, of course, we didn’t know, about all this, or we never would have laughed as we did.”
“I love the part about ‘So cleave to these others, your sisters,’” said Dolly. “It’s so fine to feel that wherever you go, you’ll find friends wherever there’s a Camp Fire–that you can show your ring, and be sure that there’ll be someone who knows the same thing you know, and believes in the same sort of things!”
“Yes, that’s lovely, Dolly. Of course, we’ve all read about this, but you have to do it to know how beautiful it is. I’m so glad you girls were here for this first Council Fire of ours. You know how everything should be done, and that seems to make it so much better.”
“It would have pleased you just as much, and been just as lovely if you’d done it all by yourselves, Marcia. It’s the words, and the ceremony that are so beautiful–not the way we do it. EveryCamp Fire has its own way of doing things. For instance, some Camp Fires sing the Ode to Fire all together, but we have Margery do it alone because she has such a lovely voice.”
“I think it was splendid. I never had any idea she could sing so well.”
“Her voice is lovely, but it sounds particularly soft and true out in the open air this way, and without a piano to accompany her. Mine doesn’t–I’m all right to sing in a crowd, but when I try to sing by myself, it’s just a sort of screech. There isn’t any beauty to my tones at all, and I know it and don’t try to sing alone.”
“Aren’t they all in now?” asked Bessie.
There had been a break in the steady appearance of new candidates before Eleanor. But, even as she spoke, another figure glided into the light.
“No. There’s Gladys Cooper,” said Marcia, with a little start.
“I wonder if she sees what there is to the Camp Fire now,” said Dolly, speculatively.
“What is your desire?” asked Eleanor.
“I desire to become a Camp Fire Girl and to obey the law of the Camp Fire,” said Gladys, in a mechanical, sing-song voice, entirely different from the serious tones of those who had preceded her.
“She’s laughing to herself,” said Marcia, indignantly. “Just listen! She’s repeating the Desire as if it were a bit of doggerel.”
They heard her saying:
“Seek beauty, Give service, Pursue knowledge, Hold on to health, Glorify work, Be happy. This law of the Camp Fire I will strive to follow.”
“Give service,” repeated Eleanor slowly. “You have heard what I said to the other girls, Gladys. I want you to understand this point of the law. It is the most important of all, perhaps. It means that you must be friendly to your sisters of the Camp Fire; that you must love them, and put them above yourself.”
“I must do all that for my chums–the girls in our Camp Fire, you mean, I suppose?” said Gladys. “I don’t care anything about these other girls. And, Miss Mercer, all that you’re goingto say in a minute–‘So cleave to these others, your sisters’–that doesn’t mean the girls in any old Camp Fire, does it?”
Startled, Eleanor was silent for a moment. Mary Turner looked at Gladys indignantly.
“It means every girl in every Camp Fire,” said Eleanor, finally. “And more than that, you must serve others, in or out of the Camp Fire.”
“Oh, that’s nonsense!” said Gladys. “I couldn’t do that.”
“Then you are not fit to receive your ring,” said Eleanor.
There was a gasp of astonishment and dismay from the girls. Somehow all seemed to feel as if Eleanor’s reproach were directed at them instead of at the pale and angry Gladys, who stood, scarcely able to believe her ears, looking at the Guardian. There had been no anger in Eleanor’s voice–only sorrow and distress.
“Why, what do you mean, Miss Mercer?” Gladys gasped.
“Exactly what I say, Gladys,” said Eleanor, in the same level voice. “You are not fit to be one of us unless you mean sincerely and earnestly to keep the Law of the Fire. We are a sisterhood; no girl who is not only willing, but eager, to become our sister, may join us.”
Slowly the meaning of her rejection seemed to sink into the mind of Gladys.
“Do you mean that you’re not going to let me join?” she asked in a shrill, high-pitched voice that showed she was on the verge of giving way to an outbreak of hysterical anger.
“For your own sake it is better that you should not join now, Gladys. Listen to me. I do not blame you greatly for this. I would rather have you act this way than be a hypocrite, pretending to believe in our law when you do not.”
“Oh, I hate you! I hate the Camp Fire! I wouldn’t join for anything in the world, after this!”
“There will be time to settle that when we are ready to let you join, Gladys,” said Eleanor, a little sternness creeping into her voice, as if she were growing angry for the first time. “To join the Camp Fire is a privilege. Remember this–no girl does the Camp Fire a favor by joining it. The Camp Fire does not need any one girl, no matter how clever, or how pretty, or how able she may be, as much as that girl needs the CampFire. The Camp Fire, as a whole, is a much greater, finer thing than any single member.”
Sobs of anger were choking Gladys when she tried to answer. She could not form intelligible words.
Eleanor glanced at Mary Turner, and the Guardian of the new Camp Fire, on the hint, put her arm about Gladys.
“I think you’d better go back to the camp now, dear,” she said, very gently. “You and I will have a talk presently, when you feel better, and perhaps you will see that you are wrong.”
All the life and spirit seemed to have left the girls as Gladys, her head bowed, the sound of her sobs still plainly to be heard, left the circle of the firelight and made her lonely way over the beach toward the tents of her own camp. For a few moments silence reigned. Then Eleanor spoke, coolly and steadily, although Mary Turner, who was close to her, knew what an effort her seeming calm represented.
“We have had a hard thing to do to-night,”she said. “I know that none of you will add to what Gladys has made herself suffer. She is in the wrong, but I think that very few of us will have any difficulty in remembering many times when we have been wrong, and have been sure that we were right. Gladys thinks now that we are all against her–that we wanted to humiliate her. We must make her understand that she is wrong. Remember, Wo-he-lo means love.”
She paused for a moment.
“Wo-he-lo means love,” she repeated. “And not love for those whom we cannot help loving. The love that is worth while is that we give to those who repel us, who do not want our love. It is easy to love those who love us. But in time we can make Gladys love us by showing that we want to love her and do what we can to make her happy. And now, since I think none of us feel like staying here, we will sing our good-night song and disperse.”
And the soft voices rose like a benediction, minglingin the lovely strains of that most beautiful of all the Camp Fire songs.
Silently, and without the usual glad talk that followed the ending of a Council Fire, the circle broke up, and the girls, in twos and threes, spread over the beach.
“Walk over with me, won’t you?” Marcia Bates begged Dolly and Bessie. “Oh, I’m so ashamed! I never thought Gladys would act like that!”
“It isn’t your fault, Marcia,” said Dolly. “Don’t be silly about it. And, do you know, I’m not angry a bit! Just at first I thought I was going to be furious. But–well, somehow I can’t help admiring Gladys! I like her better than I ever did before, I really do believe!”
“Oh, I do!” said Bessie, her eyes glowing. “Wasn’t she splendid? Of course, she’s all wrong, but she had to be plucky to stand up there like that, when she knew everyone was against her!”
“But she had no right to insult all you girls, Bessie.”
“I don’t believe she meant to insult us a bit,” said Dolly. “I don’t think she thought much about us. It’s just that she has always been brought up to feel a certain way about things, and she couldn’t change all at once. A whole lot of girls, while they believed just what she did, and hated the whole idea just as much, would never have dared to say so, when they knew no one agreed with them.”
“Yes, it’s just as Miss Eleanor said,” said Bessie, “She’s not a hypocrite, no matter what her other faults are. She’s not afraid to say just what she thinks–and that’s pretty fine, after all.”
“I wish she could hear you,” said Marcia, indignantly. “Oh, it’s splendid of you, but I can’t feel that way, and there’s no use pretending. I suppose the real reason I’m so angry is that I’m really very fond of Gladys, and I hate to see her acting this way. She’s making a perfect fool of herself, I think.”
“But just think of how splendid it will be whenshe sees she is wrong, Marcia,” said Bessie. “Because you want to remember if she’s plucky enough to hold out against all her friends this way she will be plucky enough to own up when she sees the truth, too.”
“Yes, and she’ll be a convert worth making, too,” said Dolly. “There’s just one thing I’m thinking of, Marcia. Will she stay here? Don’t you suppose she’ll go home right away? I know I would. I wouldn’t want to stay around this beach after what happened at the Council Fire to-night.”
They never heard Marcia’s answer to that question, for in the darkness, Gladys herself, shaking with anger, rose and confronted them.
“You bet I’m going to stay!” she declared, furiously. “And I’ll get even with you, Dolly Ransom, and your nasty old Miss Mercer, and the whole crew of you! Maybe you’ve been able to set all my friends against me–I’m glad of it!”
“No one is set against you, Gladys,” said Marcia, gently.
“Maybe you don’t call it that, Marcia Bates, but I’ve got my own opinion of a lot of girls who call themselves my friends and side against me the way you’ve done!”
“Why, Gladys, I haven’t done a thing–”
“That’s just it, you sneak! Why, do you suppose I’d have let them treat you as I was treated to-night? If it had happened to you and I’d joined before, I’d have got up and thrown their nasty old ring back at them! I don’t want their old ring! I’ve got much prettier ones of my own–gold, and set with sapphires and diamonds!”
“I’m very glad you’re going to stay, Gladys!” said Dolly. “I’m sorry I’ve been cross when I spoke to you lately two or three times, and I hope you’ll forgive me. And I think you’ll see soon that we’re not at all what you think we are in the Camp Fire.”
“Oh, you needn’t talk that way to me, Dolly Ransom! You can pretend all you like to be a saint, but I’ve known you too long to swallow all that! You’ve done just as many mean things asanyone else! And now you stand around and act as if you were ashamed to know me. Just you wait! I’ll get even with you, and all the rest of your new friends, if it’s the last thing I ever do!”
Bessie’s hand reached out for Dolly’s. She knew her chum well enough to understand that if Dolly controlled her temper now it would only be by the exercise of the grimmest determination. Sure enough, Dolly’s hand was trembling, and Bessie could almost feel the hot anger that was swelling up in her. But Dolly mastered herself nobly.
“You can’t make me angry now, Gladys,” said Dolly, finally. “You’re perfectly right; I’ve done things that are meaner than anything you did at Lake Dean. And I’m just as sorry for them now as you will be when you understand better.”
“Well, you needn’t preach to me!” said Gladys, fiercely. “And you can give up expecting me to run away. I’m not a coward, whatever else I may be! And I’d never be able to hold up my head if I thought a lot of common girls had frightenedme into running away from this place. I’m going to stay here, and I’m going to have a good time, and you’d better look out for yourselves–that’s all I can say! Maybe I know more about you than you think.”
And then she turned on her heel and left them.
“Whew!” said Marcia. “I don’t see how you kept your temper, Dolly. If she’d said half as much to me as she did to you, I never could have stood it, I can tell you! Whatever did she mean by what she said just then about knowing more than we thought?”
“I don’t know,” said Dolly, rather anxiously. “But look here, Marcia, I might as well tell you now. There’s likely to be a good deal of excitement here.”
“Yes,” said Bessie, rather bitterly. “And it’s all my fault–mine and Zara’s, that is.”
“I don’t see what you can mean,” said Marcia, mystified.
“Well, it’s quite a long story, but I really thinkyou’d better know all about it, Marcia,” said Dolly.
And so, with occasional help from Bessie herself, when Dolly forgot something, or when Bessie’s ideas disagreed with hers, Dolly poured the story of the adventures of Bessie and Zara since their flight from Hedgeville into Marcia’s ears.
“Why, I never heard of such a thing!” Marcia exclaimed, when the story was told. “So that fire last night wasn’t an accident at all?”
“We’re quite sure it wasn’t, Marcia. And don’t you think it looks as if we were right?”
“It certainly does, and I think it’s dreadful, Dolly–just dreadful. Oh, Bessie, I am so sorry for you!”
She threw her arms about Bessie impulsively and kissed her, while Dolly, delighted, looked on.
“Doesn’t it make you love her more than ever?” she said. “And Bessie is so foolish about it sometimes. She seems to think that girls won’t want to have anything to do with her, becauseshe hasn’t had a home and parents like the rest of us–or like most of us.”
“Thatisawfully silly, Bessie,” said Marcia. “As if it was your fault! People are going to like you for what you are, and for the way you behave–not on account of things that you really haven’t a thing to do with. Sensible people, I mean. Of course, if they’re like Gladys–but then most people aren’t, I think.”
“Of course they’re not!” said Dolly, stoutly. “And, besides, I’m just sure that Bessie is going to find out about her father and mother some day. I don’t believe Mr. Holmes would be taking all the trouble he has about her unless there were something very surprising about her history that we don’t know anything about. Do you, Marcia?”
“Of course not! He’s got something up his sleeve. Probably she is heiress to a fortune, or something like that, and he wants to get hold of it. He’s a very rich man, isn’t he, Dolly?”
“Yes. You know he’s the owner of a great big department store at home. And Bessie saysthat it can’t be any question of money that makes him so anxious to get hold of her and of Zara, because he has so much already.”
“H’m! I guess people who have money like to make more, Dolly. I’ve heard my father talk about that. He says they’re never content, and that’s one reason why so many men work themselves to death, simply because they haven’t got sense enough to stop and rest when they have enough money to live comfortably for the rest of their lives.”
“That’s another thing I’ve told her. And she says that can’t be the reason, but just the same she never suggests a better one to take its place.”
“Look here,” said Marcia, thoughtfully. “If Mr. Holmes is spending so much money, doesn’t it cost a whole lot to stop him from doing what he’s trying to do, whatever that is? I’m just thinking–my father has ever so much, you know, and I know if I told him, he’d be glad to spend whatever was needed–”
Bessie finished unhappily.
“Oh, that’s one thing that is worrying me terribly!” she cried, “I just know that Miss Eleanor and Mr. Jamieson must have spent a terrible lot on my affairs already, and I don’t see how I’m ever going to pay them back! And if I ever mention it, Miss Eleanor gets almost angry, and says I mustn’t talk about it at all, even think of it.”
“Why, of course you mustn’t. It would be awful to think that those horrid people were able to get hold of you and make you unhappy just because they had money and you didn’t, Bessie.”
And Dolly echoed her exclamation. Naturally enough, Marcia, whose parents were among the richest people in the state, thought little of money, and Dolly, who had always had plenty, even though her family was by no means as rich as Marcia’s, felt the same way about the matter. Neither of them valued money particularly; but Bessie, because she had lived ever since she could remember in a family where the pinch of actualpoverty was always felt, had a much truer appreciation of the value of money.
She did not want to possess money, but she had a good deal of native pride, and it worried her constantly to think that her good friends were spending money that she could see no prospect, however remote, of repaying.
“I wish there was some way to keep me from having to take all the money they spend on me,” she said, wistfully. “As soon as we get back to the city, I’m going to find some work to do, so that I can support myself.”
She half expected Marcia to assail that idea, for it seemed to her that, nice as she was, she belonged, like Gladys Cooper, to the class that looked down on work and workers. But to her surprise, Marcia gave a cry of admiration.
“It’s splendid for you to feel that way, Bessie!” she said. “But, just the same, I believe you’ll have to wait until things are more settled. It would be so much easier for Mr. Holmes to get hold of you if you were working, you know.”
“She’s going to come and stay with me just as long as she wants to,” said Dolly. “And, anyhow, I really believe things are going to be settled for her. Perhaps I’ve heard something, too!”
When Bessie and Dolly returned to their own camp they found Eleanor Mercer waiting for them, and as soon as she was alone with them, she did something that, for her, was very rare. She asked them about their talk with Marcia Bates.
“You know that as a rule I don’t interfere,” she said. “Unless there is something that makes it positively necessary for me to intrude myself, I leave you to yourselves.”
“Why, we would have told you all about it, anyhow, Miss Eleanor,” said Dolly, surprised.
“Yes, but even so, I want you to know that I’m sorry to feel that I should ask you to tell me. As a rule, I would rather let you girls work all these things out by yourselves, even if I see very plainly that you are making mistakes. I think you can sometimes learn more by doing a thing wrong,provided that you are following your own ideas, than by doing it right when you are simply doing what someone else tells you.”
“I see what you mean, Miss Eleanor,” said Bessie. “But this time we really haven’t done anything, We saw Gladys, too, and–”
She went on to tell of their talk with Marcia and of the unpleasant episode created by Gladys when she had overheard them talking.
“I think you’ve done very well indeed,” said Eleanor, with a sigh of relief, when she had heard the story. “I was so afraid that you would lose your temper, Dolly. Not that I could really have blamed you if you had, but, oh, it’s so much better that you didn’t. So Gladys has decided to stay, has she!”
“Yes,” said Dolly. “But Marcia seemed to think Miss Turner might make her go home.”
“She won’t,” said Eleanor. “She was thinking of it, but I have had a talk with her, and we both decided that that wouldn’t do much good. It might save us some trouble, but it wouldn’t doGladys any good, and, after all, she’s the one we’ve got to consider.”
Dolly didn’t say anything, but it was plain from her look that she did not understand.
“What I mean is,” Eleanor went on, “that there’s a chance here for us to make a real convert–one who will count. It’s easy enough to make girls understand our Camp Fire idea when they want to like it, and feel sure that they’re going to. The hard cases are the girls like Gladys, who have a prejudice against the Camp Fire without really knowing anything at all about it. And if the Camp Fire idea is the fine, strong, splendid thing we all believe, why, this is a good time to prove it. If it is, Gladys won’t be able to hold out against it.”
“That’s what I’ve thought from the first, Miss Eleanor,” said Bessie. “And I’m sure she will like us better presently.”
“Well, if she is willing to stay, she is to stay,” said Eleanor. “And she is to be allowed to do everything the other girls do, except, of course,she can’t actually take part in a Council Fire until she’s a member. We don’t want her to feel that she is being punished, and Miss Turner is going to try to make her girls treat her just as if nothing had happened. That’s what I want our Manasquan girls to do, too.”
“They will, then, if I’ve got anything to say,” declared Dolly, vehemently. “And I guess I’ve got more reason to be down on her than any of the others except Bessie. So if I’m willing to be nice to her, I certainly don’t see why the others should hesitate.”
“Remember this, Dolly. You’re willing to be nice to her now, but she may make it pretty hard. You’re going to have a stiff test of your self-control and your temper for the next few days. When people are in the wrong and know it, but aren’t ready to admit it and be sorry, they usually go out of their way to be nasty to those they have injured–”
“Oh, I don’t care what she says or does now,” said Dolly. “If I could talk to her to-night withoutgetting angry, I think I’m safe. I never came so near to losing my temper without really doing it in my whole life before.”
“Well, that’s fine, Dolly. Keep it up. Remember this is pretty hard for poor Miss Turner. Here she is, just starting in as a Camp Fire Guardian, and at the very beginning she has this trouble! But if she does make Gladys come around, it will be a great victory for her, and I want you and all of our girls to do everything you can to help.”
Then with a hearty good-night she turned away, and it was plain that she was greatly relieved by what Bessie and Dolly had told her.
“Well, I don’t know what you’re going to do, Bessie,” said Dolly, “but I’m going to turn in and sleep! I’m just beginning to realize how tired I am.”
“I’m tired, too. We’ve really had enough to make us pretty tired, haven’t we?”
And this time they were able to sleep through the whole night without interruption. The peaceand calm of Plum Beach were disturbed by nothing more noisy than gentle waves, and the whole camp awoke in the morning vastly refreshed.
The sun shone down gloriously, and the cloudless sky proclaimed that it was to be a day fit for any form of sport. A gentle breeze blew in from the sea, dying away to nothing sometimes, and the water inside the sand bar was so smooth and inviting that half a dozen of the girls, with Dolly at their head, scampered in for a plunge before breakfast.
“They’re swimming over at the other camp, too,” cried Dolly. “See? Oh, I bet we’ll have some good times with them. We ought to be able to have all sorts of fun in the water.”
“Aren’t there any boats here beside that old flat bottom skiff?” asked Bessie.
“Aren’t there? Just wait till you see! If we hadn’t had all that excitement yesterday Captain Salters would have brought theEleanorover. He will to-day, too, and then you’ll see.”
“What will I see, Dolly? Remember I haven’t been here before, like you.”
“Oh, she’s the dandiest little boat, Bessie–a little sloop, and as fast as a steamboat, if she’s handled right.”
“Now we’ll never hear the end of her,” said Margery Burton, with a comical gesture of despair. “You’ve touched the button, Bessie, and Dolly will keep on telling us about theEleanor, and how fast she is, until someone sits on her!”
“You’re jealous, Margery,” laughed Dolly, in high good humor. “Margery’s pretty clever, Bessie, and when it comes to cooking–my!” She smacked her lips loudly, as if to express her sense of how well Margery could cook. “But she can’t sail a boat!”
“Here’s Captain Salters now–and he’s towing theEleanor, all right, Dolly,” cried one of the other girls.
“Oh, I’m so glad!” cried Dolly. “Bessie, you’ve never been in a sail boat, have you? I’ll have to show you how everything is done, andthen well have some bully fine times together. You’ll love it, I know.”
“She won’t if she’s inclined to be seasick,” said Margery. “The trouble with Dolly is that she can never have enough of a good thing. The higher the wind, the happier Dolly is. She’ll keep on until the boat heels away over, and until you think you’re going over the next minute–and she calls that having a good time!”
“Well, I never heard you begging me to quit, Margery Burton!” said Dolly. “You’re an old fraud–that’s what you are! You pretend you are terribly frightened, and all the time you’re enjoying it just as much as I am. I wish there was some way we could have a race. That’s where the real fun comes in with a sail boat.”
“You could get all the racing you want over at Bay City, Dolly. The yacht club there has races every week, I think.”
“But Miss Eleanor would never let me sail in one of those races, Margery. I guess she’s right, too. I may be pretty good for a girl, but I’mafraid I wouldn’t have a chance with those men.”
Margery pretended to faint.
“Listen to that, will you?” she exclaimed. “Here’s Dolly actually saying that someone might be able to do something better than she could! I’ll believe in almost anything after that!”
“Well, you can laugh all you like,” said Dolly, with spirit. “But if we should have a race, I’ll be captain, and I know some people who won’t get a chance to be even on the crew. They’ll feel pretty sorry they were so fresh, I guess, when they have to stay ashore cooking dinner while I and my crew are out in the sloop!”
Then from the beach came the primitive call to breakfast–made by the simple process of pounding very hard on the bottom of a frying pan with a big tin spoon. That ended the talk about Dolly’s qualifications as a yacht captain, and there was a wild rush to the beach, and to the tents, since those who had been in for an early swim could not sit down to breakfast in their wet bathingsuits. But no one took any great length of time to dress, since here the utmost simplicity ruled in clothes.
“Well, what’s the programme for to-day, girls?” asked Eleanor, after the meal was over.
“Each for herself!” cried half a dozen voices. And a broken chorus rose in agreement.
“I want to fish!” cried one.
“A long walk for me!” cried another.
“I’d like to make up a party to go over to Bay City and buy things. We haven’t been near a store for weeks!” suggested another.
“All right,” said Eleanor. “Everyone can do exactly what she likes between the time we finish clearing up after lunch and dinner. I think we’ll have the same rule we did at Long Lake–four girls attend to the camp work each day, while the other eight do as they like. You can draw lots or arrange it among yourselves, I don’t care.”
“Yes, that’s a fine arrangement,” said Dolly. “It’s a little harder for the four who work thanit would be if we all pitched in, but no one really has to work any harder, for all that.”
“It’s even in the long run,” said Eleanor. “And it gives some of you a chance to do things that call for a whole afternoon. All agreed to that, are you?”
It was Eleanor’s habit, whenever possible, to submit such minor details of camp life to a vote of the girls. Her authority, of course, was complete. If she gave an order, it had to be obeyed, and she had the right, if she decided it was best, to send any or all of the girls home. But–and many guardians find it a good plan–she preferred to give the girls a good deal of latitude and real independence.
One result was that, whenever she did give a positive order, it was obeyed unquestioningly. The girls knew by experience that usually she was content to suggest things, and even agree to methods that she herself would not have chosen, and, as they were not accustomed to receiving positive orders on all sorts of subjects, they understoodwithout being told that there was a good reason for those that were issued. Another result, of course, and the most important, was that the girls, growing used to governing themselves, grew more self-reliant, and better fitted to cope with emergencies.
The girls were still washing the breakfast dishes when Marcia Bates walked along the beach and was greeted with a merry hail by Dolly and the others.
“I’m here as an ambassador or something like that,” she announced. “That little sloop out there is yours, isn’t she?”
“Well, we’ll have ours here as soon as it’s towed over from Bay City. And we want to challenge you to a regular yacht race. I asked Miss Turner if we might, and she said yes.”
“I think that would be fine sport,” said Eleanor. “Dolly Ransom is skipper of our sloop. Suppose you talk it over with her.”
“I think it would be fine, Marcia!” said Dolly,with shining eyes. “I was just wishing for a race this morning. When shall we have it?”
“Why not this afternoon?” asked Marcia. “We could race out to the lighthouse on the rock out there and back. That’s not very far, but it’s far enough to make a good race, I should think.”
“Splendid!” said Dolly. “What sort of a boat is yours?”
“Just the same as yours, I think. We can see when they come, and if one is bigger than the other, we can arrange about a handicap. Miss Turner said she thought she ought to be in one boat, and Miss Mercer in the other.”
“Yes, I think so, too. And I’ll be skipper of our boat, and have Bessie King and Margery Burton for a crew. Who is your skipper?”
“Gladys Cooper,” answered Marcia, after a slight pause.
“Bully for her! Just you tell her I’m going to beat her so badly she won’t even know she’s in a race.”
Marcia laughed.
“All right,” she said. “I’ll let you know when we’re ready.”
“Now, then, Bessie,” said Dolly, “just you come out with me to the sloop in that skiff, and I’ll show you just what you’ll have to do. It won’t be hard–you’ll only have to obey orders. But you’d better know the names of the ropes, so that you’ll understand my orders when I give them.”
So for an hour Bessie, delighted with the appearance of the trim little sloop, took lessons from Dolly in the art of handling small sailing craft.
“You’ll get along all right,” said Dolly, as they pulled back to the beach. “Don’t get excited. That’s the only thing to remember. We’ll wear our bathing suits, of course, so that if we get spilled into the water, there’ll be no harm done.”
“We’ve got a good chance of being spilled, too,” said Margery. “I know how Dolly likes to sail a boat. So if you don’t want a ducking, you’d better make her take someone else in your place.”
“I wouldn’t miss it for anything,” said Bessie, happily. “I’ve never even seen a yacht race. I bet it must be lots of fun.”
“It won’t be rough, anyhow,” said Eleanor, after they had landed. She looked out to sea. “It’s pretty hazy out there, Dolly. Think there’ll be enough wind?”
“Oh, yes,” said Dolly. “Plenty! It won’t be stiff, of course, and we won’t make good time, but that doesn’t make any difference. It’s as good for them as for us–and the other way round.”
The sloop that was to represent the Halsted Camp Fire in the race arrived in the cove late in the morning, and from the shore there seemed to be no difference in size between the two little craft. They were different, and one might prove swifter than the other, for no two boats of that sort were ever exactly alike. But so far as could be judged, the race was likely to be a test rather of how the boats were sailed than of their speed, boat for boat.
“I think you can sail on even terms, Dolly,” said Eleanor. “I don’t believe there’ll be any need for either of you to give away any time to the other.”
“I’m glad of that, Miss Eleanor,” said Dolly. “It seems much nicer when you’re exactly even at the start.”
“Here’s Miss Turner now,” said Bessie. “I guess they must be about ready to start. I hope I’ll do the right thing when you tell me, Dolly, but I’m dreadfully afraid I won’t.”
“Don’t worry about it, and you’ll be much more likely to get along well,” said Margery Burton, calmly. “And remember that this race isn’t the most important thing in the world, even if Dolly thinks it is.”
“Oh, it’s all right for you to talk that way now,” said Dolly. “But wait till we’re racing, Bessie, You’ll find she’s just as much worked up about it then as I am–and probably more so.”
“Well, all ready, Nell?” asked Mary Turner, coming up to them then. “Gladys seems to think she’s about ready to start, so I thought I’d walk over and arrange about the details.”
“I think the best way to fix up the start will be for the two sloops to reach the opening in the bar together,” said Eleanor. “They can start there and finish there, you see, and that will save the need of having someone to take the time. Wereally haven’t anyone who can do that properly. If we’re close together at the start you and I can call to one another and agree upon the moment when the race has actually begun.”
“All right,” said Miss Turner. “I’d thought of that myself.” She lowered her voice. “I didn’t like to oppose this race, Nell,” she said, speaking so that only Eleanor could hear her, “but I’m not at all sure that it’s going to be a good thing.”
“Why not? I thought it would be good sport.”
“It ought to be, but I don’t know how good a sportsman Gladys is. If she wins, it will probably make her feel a lot better. But if she loses–!”
“I hadn’t thought of that side of it,” said Eleanor. “But–oh, well, even so, I think it will probably be a good thing. Gladys has got a lot of hard lessons to learn, and if this is one of them, the sooner she learns it, the better. You and I will be along to see fair play. That willkeep her from having anything to say if she does lose, you see.”
“We’re in for it, anyhow, so I didn’t mean to have you worry about it. I think anything that I might have done to stop the race would have done more harm than the race itself can possibly do, in any case.”
“I’m quite sure of that, Mary. Well, we’ll get aboard our yacht and you’d better do the same. They’re probably waiting impatiently for you.”
The flat-bottomed skiff that Bessie had despised proved handy for carrying theEleanor’screw out to her. While the others climbed aboard, Dolly, who insisted upon attending to everything herself when she possibly could, arranged a floating anchor that would keep the boat in place against their return, and a few moments later theEleanor’ssnowy sails rose, flapping idly in the faint breeze.
“Get up that anchor!” directed Dolly. “Bessie, you help Margery. She’ll show you what to do.”
Then a shiver shook the little craft, the wind filled the sails, and in a few moments they werecreeping slowly toward the opening in the bar. Seated at the helm, Dolly looked over toward the other camp and saw that the other yacht was also under way.
“What do they call their boat?” she asked.
“TheDefiance,” said Eleanor.
Dolly laughed at the answer.
“I bet I know who named her!” she said, merrily. “If that isn’t just like Gladys Cooper! Well, I want a good race, and I can have just as much fun if we’re beaten, as long as I can feel that I haven’t made any mistakes in sailing theEleanor. But–well, I guess I would like to beat Gladys. I bet she’s awfully sure of winning!”
“She’s had more experience in sailing boats like these than you have, Dolly,” said Eleanor.
“She’s welcome to it,” said Dolly. “I shan’t make any excuses if I lose. I’ll be ready to admit that she’s better than I am.”
The two boats converged together upon the opening in the bar, and soon those on one could see everything aboard the other. Gladys Cooper,like Dolly, sat at the helm, steering her boat, and a look of grim determination was in her eyes and on her unsmiling face.
“She certainly does want to win,” said Margery. “She’s taking this too seriously–score one for Dolly.”
“You think she’d do better if she weren’t so worked up, Margery?”
“Of course she would! There are just two ways to take a race or a sporting contest of any sort–as a game or as a bit of serious work. If you do the very best you can and forget about winning, you’ll win a good deal oftener than you lose, if your best is any good at all. It’s that way in football. I’ve heard boys say that when they have played against certain teams, they’ve known right after the start that they were going to win, because the other team’s players would lose their tempers the first time anything went wrong.”
“We seem to be on even terms now,” said Eleanor, and, cupping her hands, she hailed MaryTurner. “All right? We might as well call this a start.”
“All right,” said Mary. “Shall I give the word!”
“Go ahead!” said Eleanor.
Instantly Dolly, with a quick look at her sails, which were hanging limp again, since she had altered the course a trifle, became all attention.
“One–two–three–go!” called Miss Turner, clapping her hands at the word “go.”
And instantly Dolly shifted her helm once more, so that the wind filled the sails, and theEleanorshot for the opening in the bar. Quick as she had been, however, she was no quicker than Gladys, and theDefianceand theEleanorpassed through the bar and out into the open sea together. Here there was more motion, since the short, choppy waves outside the bar were never wholly still, no matter how calm the sea might seem to be. But Bessie, who had been rather nervous as to the effect of this motion, which she had been warned to dread, found it by no means unpleasant.
For a few moments Dolly’s orders flew sharply. Although the wind was very light, there was enough of it to give fair speed, and the sails had to be trimmed to get the utmost possible out of it while it lasted. Both boats tacked to starboard, sailing along a slanting line that seemed likely to carry them far to one side of the lighthouse that was their destination, and Bessie wondered at this.
“We’re not sailing straight for the lighthouse,” she said. “Isn’t that supposed to be where we turn? Don’t we have to sail around it?”
“Yes, but we can’t go straight there, because the wind isn’t right,” explained Dolly. “We’ll keep on this way for a spell; then we’ll come about and tack to port, and then to starboard again. In that way we can beat the wind, you see, and make it work for us, even if it doesn’t want to.”
Half way to the lighthouse there was less than a hundred feet between the boats. TheDefianceseemed to be a little ahead, but the advantage, if she really had one at all, was not enough to have any real effect on the race.
“Going out isn’t going to give either of us much chance to gain, I guess,” said Dolly. “The real race will be when we’re going back, with what wind there is behind us.”
But soon it seemed that Dolly had made a rash prediction, for when she came about and started to beat up to port, theDefianceheld to her course.
“Well, she can do that if she wants to,” said Dolly. “Just the same, I think she’s going too far.”
“It looks to me as if she were pretty sure of what she’s doing, though, Dolly,” said Margery, anxiously. “Don’t you think you tacked a little too soon?”
“If I thought that I wouldn’t have done it, Margery,” said Dolly. “Don’t bother me with silly questions now; I’ve got to figure on tacking again so as to make that turn with the least possible waste of time.”
“Don’t talk to the ‘man’ at the wheel,” advised Eleanor, with a laugh. “She’s irritable.”
A good many of the nautical terms used so freelyby the others might have been so much Greek for all Bessie could understand of them, but the race itself had awakened her interest and now held it as scarcely anything she had ever done had been able to do.
She kept her eyes fixed on the other boat, and at last she gave a cry.
“Look! They’re going to turn now.”
“Score one for Gladys, Margery,” said Dolly, quietly. “She’s certainly stolen a march on me. Do you see that? She’s going to make her turn on the next tack, and I believe she’ll gain nearly five minutes on us. That was clever, and it was good work.”
“Never mind, Dolly,” said Margery. “You’ve still got a chance to catch her going home before the wind. I know how fast theEleanoris at that sort of work. If theDefianceis any better, she ought to be racing for some real cups.”
“Oh, don’t try to cheer me up! I made an awful mess of that, Margery, and I know it. Gladys had more nerve than I, that’s all. She deservesthe lead she’s got. It isn’t a question of the boats, at all. TheDefianceis being sailed better than theEleanor.”
“Margery’s right, though, Dolly,” said Eleanor. “The race isn’t over yet. You haven’t given up hope, have you?”
“Given up?” cried Dolly, scornfully, through set teeth. “Just you watch, that’s all! I’m going to get home ahead if I have to swamp us all.”
“That’s more like her,” Margery whispered to Bessie.
And now even Bessie could see that theDefiancehad gained a big advantage. Before her eyes, not so well trained as those of the others to weigh every consideration in such a contest, had not seen what was really happening. But it was plain enough now. Even while theDefiancewas holding on for the lighthouse, on a straight course, theEleanorhad to come about and start beating up toward it, and theDefiancemade the turn, and, with spinnaker set, was skimming gaily for homea full five minutes before theEleanorcircled lighthouse.
In fact, theDefiance, homeward bound, passed them, and Mary Turner laughed gaily as she hailed Eleanor.
“This is pretty bad,” she called. “Better luck next time, Nell!”
Marcia Bates waved her hand gaily to them, but Gladys Cooper, her eyes straight ahead, her hand on the tiller, paid no attention to them. There was no mistaking the look of triumph on her face, however. She was sure she was going to win, and she was glorying in her victory already.
“I’ll make her smile on the other side of her face yet,” said Dolly, viciously. “She might have waved her hand, at least. If we’re good enough to race with, we’re good enough for her to be decently polite to us, I should think.”
“Easy, Dolly!” said Margery. “It won’t help any for you to lose your temper, you know. Remember you’ve still got to sail your boat.”
TheDefiancewas far ahead when, at last, after a wait that seemed to those on board interminable, theEleanorrounded the lighthouse in her turn.
“Lively now!” commanded Dolly. “Shake out the spinnaker! We’re going to need all the sail we’ve got. There isn’t enough wind now to make a flag stand out properly.”
“And they got the best of it, too,” lamented Margery. “You see, Bessie, the good wind there was when they started back carried them well along. We won’t get that, and we’ll keep falling further and further behind, because they’ve probably still got more wind than we have. It’ll die out here before it does where they are.”
Dolly stood up now, and cast her eyes behind her on the horizon, and all about. And suddenly, without warning, she put the helm over, and theEleanorstood off to port, heading, as it seemed, far from the opening in the bar that was the finishing, line.
“Dolly, are you crazy?” exclaimed Margery. “This is a straight run before the wind!”
“Suppose there isn’t any wind?” asked Dolly. The strained, anxious look had left her eyes, and she seemed calm now, almost elated. “Margery, you’re a fine cook, but you’ve got a lot to learn yet about sailing a boat!”
Bessie was completely mystified, and a look at Margery showed her that she, too, although silenced, was far from being satisfied. But now Margery suddenly looked off on the surface of the water, and gave a glad cry.
“Oh, fine, Dolly!” she exclaimed. “I see what you’re up to–and I bet Gladys thinks you’re perfectly insane, too!”
“She’ll soon know I’m not,” said Dolly, grimly. “I only hope she doesn’t know enough to do the same thing. I don’t see how she can miss, though, unless she can’t see in time.”
Still Bessie was mystified, and she did not like to ask for an explanation, especially since she felt certain that one would be forthcoming anyhow in a few moments. And, sure enough, it was. For suddenly she felt a breath of wind, and, at thesame instant Dolly brought theEleanorup before the wind again, and for the first time Bessie understood what the little sloop’s real speed was.
“You see, Bessie,” said Margery, “Dolly knew that the wind was dying. It’s a puffy, uncertain sort of wind, and very often, on a day like this, there’ll be plenty of breeze in one spot, and none at all in another.”
“Oh, so we came over here to find this breeze!” said Bessie.
“Yes. It was the only chance. If we had stayed on the other course we might have found enough breeze to carry us home, but we would have gone at a snail’s pace, just as we were doing, and there was no chance at all to catch Gladys and theDefiancethat way.”
“We haven’t caught them yet, you know,” said Dolly.
“But we’re catching them,” said Bessie, exultingly. “Even I can see that. Look! They’re just crawling along.”
“Still, even at the rate they’re going, ten minutesmore will bring them to the finish,” said Margery, anxiously. “Do you think she can make it, Dolly?”
“I don’t know,” said Dolly. “I’ve done all I can, anyhow. There isn’t a thing to do now but hold her steady and trust to this shift of the wind to last long enough to carry us home.”
Now theEleanorwas catching theDefiancefast, and nearing her more and more rapidly. It was a strange and mysterious thing to Bessie to see that of two yachts so close together–there was less than a quarter of a mile between them now–one could have her sails filled with a good breeze while the other seemed to have none at all. But it was so. TheDefiancewas barely moving; she seemed as far from the finish now as she had been when Margery spoke.
“They’re stuck–they’re becalmed,” said Margery, finally, when five minutes of steady gazing hadn’t shown the slightest apparent advance by theDefiance. “Oh, Dolly, we’re going to beat them!”
“I guess we are,” said Dolly, with a sigh of satisfaction. “It was about the most hopeless looking race I ever saw twenty minutes ago, but you never can tell.”
And now every minute seemed to make the issue more and more certain. Sometimes a little puff of wind would strike theDefiance, fill her sails, and push her a little nearer her goal, but the hopes that those puffs must have raised in Dolly’s rival and her crew were false, for each died away before theDefiancereally got moving again.
And at last, passing within a hundred yards, so that they could see poor Gladys, her eyes filled with tears, theEleanorslipped by theDefianceand took the lead. And then, by some strange irony of fate, the wind came to theDefiance–but it came too late. For theEleanor, slipping through the water as if some invisible force had been dragging her, passed through the opening and into the still waters of the cove fully two hundred feet in the lead.
“That certainly was your victory, Dolly,” saidEleanor. “If you hadn’t found that wind, we’d still be floundering around somewhere near the lighthouse.”
“I do feel sorry for Gladys, though,” said Dolly. “It must have been hard–when she was so sure that she had won.”