The walls of this cellar were badly crumbled, and at the farther side the girls discovered another cave-like opening. This was entirely dark and they hesitated before going in. Then Nyoda took her pocket flash and Gladys found hers, and by the combined glimmer of the two the girls found their way into the farther cave. At first they had to keep the light on the ground to see where to put their feet and they were all inside before Nyoda turned her flash on the walls. Then a great cry of amazement burst from every girl, ending in a breathless gasp. The walls and roof of the cave seemed to be made of precious stones—pearls, sapphires, emeralds, amethysts and diamonds. They caught the gleam from the pocket flashes and twinkled and reflected in a hundred points of dancing light. Great masses of crystal, faceted like diamonds, hung suspended from the roof almost touching their heads, seemingly held up by magic.
“Am I dreaming,” cried Hinpoha, “or is this Alladin’s cave? What is it, Nyoda? Where are we?”
Nyoda laughed at their open mouths and staring eyes. “Only in one of Nature’s treasure vaults,” she said. “This is one of the famous crystal caves that are found throughout these islands. It’s a form of rock crystal, strontia, I believe some people call it, and I don’t doubt but what it’s related to the limestone in the quarries. Take a good look at it, for some of these crystals are simply marvellous.”
Their voices echoed and re-echoed weirdly, as they called to each other, the sound seeming to roll along the low ceiling. “Look at this mass over here,” cried Sahwah, penetrating deeper into the cave, “it looks like a man standing against the wall.”
“And this one looks like a dog lying down,” said Hinpoha, pointing to another.
Laughing, shouting, exclaiming, they explored the wonders of the cave until a heavy shock as of something falling, accompanied by a deafening crash, rooted them to the ground with fright. “What is it? What has happened?” they asked one another, and made their way back to the entrance. But the entrance was no longer there. Where it had been there was a solid wall of stone. Their climbing around among the ruined walls had sent some of the bricks sliding and these had released a large rock which had rolled down directly over the opening into the crystal cave. With desperate force they pushed against the rock, but their sevenfold strength made no more impression than a fly brushing its wings against it. With white faces they turned to each other when they realized the truth. They were imprisoned in the cave!
“The other direction!” cried Sahwah, shaking off her terror and setting her wits to work. “We may be able to get out the other way.” Taking the flashlight from Gladys, whose trembling fingers threatened to drop it, she led the way into the gloomy recesses of the cave, whose depths they had penetrated only a short distance before. They shuddered at the icicle like crystals, which now seemed like long fingers reaching down to catch a hold of them, and shrank back from the crystal masses that took the forms of men and animals. These now seemed like ghosts of creatures that had been trapped in the cave as they were. For trapped they were. In a few moments their progress was barred by impassable masses of crystal. Back again they went to the rock-blocked entrance and beat upon it and pushed with all their might. All in vain. The rock stood firm as Gibraltar. They shouted and called and screamed until the echoes clamored hideously, but no answering call came from the outside. From somewhere, far in the distance, came the dismal sound of falling water, chilling the blood in their veins.
Helplessly the girls all turned to Nyoda, asking, “What shall we do?”
Nyoda stood still and tried to face the situation calmly. She held her flashlight close to the rock and looked carefully all around the edge. At one side there was a tiny fissure, not more than half an inch wide and about six inches long, caused by the irregular shape of the rock. Nyoda regarded this minute opening thoughtfully. “If we could put something through that opening which would act as a signal, we might attract somebody’s attention who wouldn’t be able to hear us calling,” she said at length. “Our voices are so muffled in here they can’t carry very far outside.”
“Is there anybody on the island to see it?” asked Gladys doubtfully.
“There are some people here,” answered Nyoda, “because the fishermen stay all the year round. You remember those houses we passed on the other side of the quarry, where the nets were hanging in the yard?”
“What shall we use for a signal of distress?” asked Gladys. “Not one of us has a tie or a ribbon on today.”
“Use my dress skirt,” said Katherine generously. “It’s so torn anyway that it’ll never feel the same again, even if it recovers from this trip.” Which was perfectly true. So they tore the wide hem from her dress, which made a pennant about six feet long. Then Sahwah had a further inspiration, and, dipping her finger into a dark puddle formed on the floor by a thin stream of moisture trickling down the wall, she wrote the word HELP on the strip. Nyoda poked the end through the opening and shoved the rest out after it, keeping the other end in her hand, and she could feel by the tugging at the strip that the high wind had caught the portion outside and was whipping it about.
“Now shout for all you’re worth,” commanded Nyoda.
Early that Saturday morning the Captain had aroused Slim from his peaceful slumbers unceremoniously. “Hurry up and come over,” he said, in response to Slim’s protesting grunt. “Uncle Theodore’s here with his automobile and he’s going to take a run over to Freeport this morning and he said he would take all the fellows along that were ready at nine o’clock. Hurry.”
Slim needed no second invitation and roused himself immediately, while the Captain sped to collect the remainder of the Sandwiches, which was accomplished in short order, as none of the other invitations involved resurrection. Nine o’clock found them all on the curbstone before the Captain’s house, standing beside Uncle Theodore’s big car, waiting for the word to pile in. The ride to Freeport was accomplished in a few hours’ time and after dinner Uncle Theodore turned the boys loose to see the town by themselves while he transacted the business which had taken him thither. Freeport had no attraction outside of its harbor, and thither the boys betook themselves without delay. Passenger steamers left every half hour for the various islands nearby; lime boats, tugs and scows crowded the mouth of the river, and the whole atmosphere breathed of ships. The boys stood and watched a while and then pined for something to do.
“Let’s hire a launch,” suggested the Captain, who felt that it was up to him to furnish the amusement, inasmuch as he had invited them to come along, “and go out on the lake.”
Launches were readily to be had and soon they were curving around in great circles through the waves, drenched with the spray, and enjoying it as only boys can enjoy the sensation of riding in a speed boat.
“Let’s go to Rock Island,” said Slim, who had not forgotten who else had planned to go there that day.
“What for?” asked the Captain.
“Oh, nothing,” answered Slim, “except that there’s a pretty nice aquarium there, and—and the girls said they were going to be there.”
“But we were politely invited to stay home, if I remember rightly,” said Bottomless Pitt. “They’re going to have a pow-wow, or something like that.”
“But if we should run into them accidentally they would probably be glad to see us,” persisted Slim. Slim was fond of picnics gotten up by girls on account of the superior quality of the “grub”; he was especially fond of Winnebago picnics, because the Winnebagos treated him better than any other girls he knew, and as mentioned before, he had a decided weakness for red hair. Hence his ingenuous desire to go to Rock Island. The Captain, knowing Slim like a book, laughed. But he, too, wished he had been invited to the picnic, and his reasons coincided in their last item with Slim’s.
“All right,” he said, and turned the boat’s head toward the green outline of Rock Island. Half of the distance across the bay the launch wheezed and stopped dead.
“Pshaw,” said Slim disgustedly, when the Captain announced that they had run out of gasoline. They had come to a stop just off a small rocky island and with the aid of the one oar the launch boasted the Captain proceeded to paddle in to shore, in the hope that he could obtain gasoline there.
“Regular desert island,” grunted Slim, as they walked and met no one. “None of the cottages seem to be occupied.”
“Cheer up; we’ll find someone,” said the Captain. “The fishermen live on these islands all winter. Look at the limestone quarries over there.”
“And the ruined something or other behind them,” said the Bottomless Pitt.
“Let’s cut across here,” said Slim, who was ever on the lookout for short cuts. “I see some houses over there.”
“And break our necks crawling over those stones,” said Monkey. “Not much.”
So they started to follow the path that led around the curve of the shore. “Wonder if it wouldn’t have been better to cut across, anyway,” said the Captain, when they had gone some distance. “These blooming little stones are worse to walk on than spikes. Those rocks couldn’t have been much worse.” And he stood still and looked thoughtfully back at the ruined cellar.
“Hi!” he exclaimed suddenly. “What’s that?”
“What’s what?” asked Slim.
“That white rag flying from the rock over there. It surely wasn’t there a minute ago.”
“Probably was, only you didn’t see it,” said Slim, impatient to go on.
“I’m positive it wasn’t,” said the Captain. “I’m going over to have a look at it. When rags start out of rocks there’s something in the wind.” And he walked briskly toward it, the rest following. As they drew near their startled eyes fell on the black letters of the word HELP, traced in wobbly lines.
“Yay!” shouted the boys at the top of their lungs. “Where are you and what’s the matter?”
Apparently from inside the rock came the feeble echo of a shout: “We’re in the cave! The rock covered the doorway!”
“Wait a minute!” called the Captain in answer, and boylike tried to move the rock himself. “Lend a hand, fellows,” he said, after one shove against its solid side. They lent all the hands they had, but could not budge it. “Pull the bricks out from around it,” commanded the Captain, taking charge of the affair like a general, “and look out for your feet when she lunges over!” They set to work, dislodging the bricks that held it in, and before long it moved, tottered, grated and finally, with a great crash, lunged over and rolled down a little slope.
Pale and shaken, the Winnebagos emerged into the light of day. Had the ghosts of their great grandmothers appeared before them the boys could not have been more surprised. Questions and answers flew back and forth thick and fast until the tale of their finding the cave was told.
“And I’ll never, never, explore anything again!” finished Hinpoha, in an emphatic tone.
“Oh, yes, you will,” said Gladys; “and so will we all, but the next time we’ll have a company of guides fore and aft.”
“Wouldn’t it be a better plan,” suggested the Captain mildly, “to take us along with you wherever you go? I notice we generally have to come to the rescue, anyway.”
And the Winnebagos promised to consider the matter.
Hinpoha and Sahwah were patiently teaching Katherine hand signs one Saturday afternoon when Gladys burst in with a tragic face.
“Girls,” she cried, with extravagant emphasis, “have you heard thenews?” Then, without waiting for reply, she continued: “Nyoda’s going to bemarried!”
“We know she is,” answered Hinpoha, “a year from this summer.”
“No, not a year from this summer,” said Gladys, swelling with the importance of the announcement she was about to make, “thissummer. This very month!”
An incredulous exclamation burst from the three.
“It’s true,” continued Gladys. “Sherry’s going to be sent away on a long trip and he wants to take her with him, so they’re going to be married right away.”
All four sat stricken, trying to realize that the evil day which they had dreaded so and which they had thought far in the future was actually upon them. Only two more weeks and their idolized Guardian, who for three years had been a part of nearly everything they did, would be gone from them. It seemed that the world was coming to an end.
In the days that followed gloom hung thick over the House of the Open Door. Now that Nyoda was to be in it no longer the Winnebagos lost all joy in its possession. Each article of furniture that she had helped to make, each sketch of hers on the wall telling in clever little pictographs the tale of some adventure or frolic, gripped them with a fresh pang. Plans for summer excursions and activities were dropped.
“And we were all going ca-camping togu-gether!” wailed Hinpoha, and damp weather prevailed for many minutes.
But this was the end of their Senior year in high school, crowded to the limit with all the bustle and excitement and festivity of Commencement time, and the Winnebagos were so busy with examinations and essays and clothes and songs and parties that there was no time to fold their hands and grieve. Katherine, as editor of the class paper, was the star performer on Class Night, although Miss Snively, who trained the speakers, had tried to sandpaper her speech of everything clever. Katherine agreed to every change she suggested with suspicious readiness, and then when the night arrived calmly read her original paper, while the chandeliers dripped giggles and Miss Snively made sarcastic remarks about the cracked-voice orator. Somehow the story of Miss Snively’s attempt to make a hero out of her fiancé had gotten out, although Katherine always looked preoccupied whenever the subject was mentioned, and of late Miss Snively had found the seats in her recitation room occupied by rows of wise grins, which somewhat disturbed her lofty dignity. It was well that this was to be her last year of teaching.
One of the big events of the last week was the interscholastic track meet and athletic contest, to be held on the Washington High athletic field, in which ten big schools took part. The field was thronged with spectators, the grand stand was crowded, school colors floated from tree and pole, cheers burst from groups of students every few minutes and the air was electric with suppressed excitement.
First came the track events, and in these Washington High was tied with Carnegie Mechanic for second place. The Winnebagos were glad it was so, because now the Sandwiches could not crow over them. The Captain finished first in one of the hundred-yard dashes right in front of Hinpoha, where she sat in the grandstand, and he looked over the heads of the cheering boys straight at her. Hinpoha dared not applaud him, because he belonged to Washington’s bitterest rival, but she smiled brightly, and he dropped his eyes, flushing suddenly.
The girls’ events opened with a game of volley ball between Washington High and Carnegie Mechanic. Much to the surprise of the Winnebagos, they saw Katherine come in with the Washington players. Katherine was not on the team. But just before the game opened the girl’s gymnasium director had spied Katherine sitting at one side of the field, unconcernedly shaking a pebble out of her shoe in full view of the grandstand, and hurried over to her. “Will you fill in this game?” she asked breathlessly. “One of our team can’t come and we’re short a girl.”
“But I’ve never played volley ball,” protested Katherine.
“Oh,” said the gymnasium teacher disappointedly. Then she added in a kind of desperation, “Well, I don’t know as it makes any difference. I don’t seem to be able to find a girl who has played. Just stay in the background and strike at the ball with the palms of your hands every time it comes near you. Let the girls in front get it over the net.”
Katherine uncurled her length from the ground and followed the gymnasium teacher obligingly. She was not in the least sensitive about being asked at the eleventh hour to “fill in,” when she had not been asked to be on the team before. Washington’s volley ball team was not a very strong one, and went all to pieces against the concentrated team work of the Carnegie Mechanicals. The score rolled up against Washington steadily. The deafening yells from the grandstand bewildered them, and they could neither volley the ball over the net nor return the Mechanicals’ volleys. They were helpless from stage fright.
Katherine dutifully stayed in the background, sending the ball to the girls at the net, her brow drawing into anxious puckers, as they fumbled it time after time. She began to comprehend the rules of the game and was “getting the hang of it.” The Mechanicals, with fifteen points to their credit, had just lost the ball by sending it out of bounds. It was time to do something. Katherine had noticed that most of the Washington girls had been trying to volley the ball across the net from the back line, instead of passing it on, as she had been doing, and had been falling short nearly every time. With a commanding gesture, she claimed the attention of her team.
“Get back on the volley line in a row,” she ordered. They obeyed her like sheep. Then she took her place half-way between the volley line and the net, facing the girls. “Now,” she said crisply, “whosoever’s turn it is to volley, shoot the ball to me and not an inch farther. I’ll get it over the net. The first one that shoots it over my head is going to get ducked in the swimming pool!”
In their surprise at this sudden rising up of a leader, they forgot the racket around them, and the triumphantly clamoring team on the other side of the net, and calmed down. The girl with the ball sent it straight toward Katherine, and with a windmill motion of her powerful arms, she hit it a sounding whack and sent it over the net like a meteor. There was no returning such a volley.
“One!” cried the scorekeeper, and the Washington corner of the grandstand gave its first yell of triumph.
“Now, everyone of you do just the same thing, one after another,” commanded Katherine to the volley line. Her utter lack of excitement was bringing them out of their confusion. The next girl made an equally good throw and another loud whack announced that Katherine was volleying. Backing the net, she could not see where it was going, but a squeal told her that the girl who should be returning the ball was fleeing it. Then the machine started to work. As long as one side scored it was privileged to keep the volley.
When in operation the machine sounded like this: “Next!” Whack! Bump! That was all. Katherine’s command to the server; the impact of her palms on the ball; and the thump of the ball on the ground on the Mechanical side of the net. Up went the Washington score.
Two! Three! Four! Five! Six! Seven! Eight! Nine! Ten! Eleven! Twelve!
“Washington Rah!Washington Rah!Katherine Adams,Rah! Rah! Rah!”
“Washington Rah!
Washington Rah!
Katherine Adams,
Rah! Rah! Rah!”
The atmosphere was rent with the yell.
Thirteen! Fourteen! Fifteen!
“Next!” Whack! Bump!
SIXTEEN SEVENTEEN! EIGHTEEN! NINETEEN! TWENTY!
“WASHINGTON RAH!KATHERINE RAH!KATHERINE AD——”
“WASHINGTON RAH!
KATHERINE RAH!
KATHERINE AD——”
TWENTY-ONE!
The umpire ran along the net, holding up her hands, and the teams broke ranks.
“Washington High winner in the volley ball game!” shouted the scorekeeper through her megaphone. “Score, twenty-one to fifteen!”
And the grandstand thundered at Katherine, who suddenly got stage fright when it was all over and stood pigeon-toed with her head hanging down. Then she noticed for the first time that her middy was on hind side before and the long collar was down in front. Her horrified expression threw the spectators into convulsions. They had been laughing at it all through the game, but her amazing performance had made it a secondary consideration.
A few moments later she strolled nonchalantly into the grandstand and sat down among the Winnebagos. “That certainly is a strenuous game for a person with a dellyket constitooshun like mine,” she remarked ruefully, rubbing her swollen knuckles. Three fingers were sprained as a result of doing all the volleying for twelve girls, but she didn’t think it worth while to mention the matter.
Thus passed the days, filled to overflowing with fun and excitement. Katherine, thoroughly uncomfortable in a crisp new white dress and blue sash, tripped blithely along the elm-shaded avenue in the glow of the late June sunset. It was the night of the class banquet, and her mind was intent on the speech she was to make. Thus absorbed, she did not watch where she was going, and a sprawling root from a big tree tripped her unexpectedly and brought her to her knees on the soft lawn. Brought into such close contact with the ground, she spied something lying at the foot of the giant oak beside which she had fallen. It was a black leather bill fold, with a heavy elastic band around it.
“Daggers and dirks!” said Katherine, borrowing the Captain’s favorite expression. “What’s this?” She slipped off the elastic band and opened the bill fold. Across the inner flap there was a name printed in gold letters. Katherine squinted at the name and explored the inner recesses of the wallet. She took one look and hastily bound the wallet together again with its elastic and dropped it gingerly into her hand bag, as if it were red hot. Then she proceeded on her way, more absorbed than ever, but the thing her brain was intent on now was not her banquet speech.
Crossing the little park-like square, which lay on the way to school, she came upon Veronica walking slowly up and down the sidewalk, intently searching for something on the ground. She was very pale and showed signs of great agitation. It was the first time Katherine had met her face to face since she had left the group.
“Have you lost something?” asked Katherine abruptly.
“No,” said Veronica, straightening up and flushing deeply, “that is, nothing much, I—I just dropped a—something out of my purse along here somewhere.”
“What was it?” asked Katherine.
Veronica gave a last frantic look along the walk.
“It was a—” She hesitated, and then burst out:
“Oh, Katherine, it was my bill fold, and it had five hundred dollars in it!”
“Five hundred dollars!” echoed Katherine faintly.
Veronica ran back and forth along the walk, looking desperately into every crack and crevice. Every few minutes she held up her hand and looked at her wrist watch; then she would return to the search with more energy than before. Katherine also looked at her watch.
“I’ll help you hunt,” she said, taking the other side of the walk. “Are you sure you lost it along here?” she asked.
“Pretty sure,” answered Veronica. “I know I had it when I was back on Elm Street, because I looked to make sure.”
“The last time you saw it was back on Elm Street,” mused Katherine. “That’s two blocks behind us. We’ll have to go all the way back.”
“By the way,” said Katherine, a few minutes later, “it’s none of my business, I suppose, but what on earth were you doing with five hundred dollars in your bag?”
Veronica started and looked confused for a minute. But she answered naturally enough. “I drew it from the bank this afternoon to give my uncle to pay for some investment he is making for me, and I was to take it over to his studio, but I was detained and he had gone when I got there, so I was just bringing it home when I lost it.” She stared up the road with widening eyes, not toward Elm Street, where the purse might lie, but toward the big avenue in the other direction, where the streetcars clanged townward. Katherine stared thoughtfully at the suitcase Veronica had with her.
“Have you been away?” she asked casually.
“No,” said Veronica, with a start. Then, as her eyes followed Katherine’s, she added: “I’ve just been carrying some—things in there.”
Katherine looked at her watch again. “What did your bill fold look like?” she asked.
“It was a small black one,” answered Veronica, “with an elastic band around it. It had my name in gold letters across the inner flap.”
“Hadn’t we better go home and tell your uncle,” suggested Katherine, “and get him to help us find it?”
“No, no!” cried Veronica, shrinking back in alarm. “Don’t tell him! I wouldn’t have him know for worlds that I’ve lost it.”
“But if you don’t find it he’ll know about it, anyway,” said Katherine practically.
Veronica’s face went white again and she returned to the search with desperate haste. “I must find it! I must find it!” she was saying over and over again under her breath.
Katherine was just as diligent in her search. She pawed through the bushes with her white gloves and sank on her knees in the soft grass, accumulating more and more grass stains all the while. The last streak of daylight faded and the big arc lights began to blaze among the tall trees, and still they searched—Katherine in a patient, systematic way, Veronica hysterically. The few people who crossed the square were closely questioned as to whether or not they had found anything, but the same disappointing answer came from all of them. Veronica looked at her watch with ever-increasing anxiety; Katherine looked at her furtively almost as often.
After two hours of nerve-wracking search a steeple clock nearby boomed out nine strokes; slowly, deliberately, its clamor shattered the summer night’s stillness. Veronica sank down on a stone which bordered the walk and covered her face with her hands. Katherine straightened up and stood for a moment looking thoughtfully at Veronica; then she went on searching methodically. Veronica sat huddled on the stone for fully five minutes; then, with an expression which was strangely like relief, she rose up and followed Katherine’s example. Fifteen minutes more went by with scarcely a word from either girl. Then the steeple clock chimed the quarter hour. A moment later came the sound of a train whistle, far off, but borne clearly on the still air, followed by the faint rumble of distant cars going over a culvert.
Katherine stood still until the sound had died away, then she went up to Veronica, led her to an iron bench nearby, and shoved her into it. Then she opened her handbag and took out a small black wallet fastened round with an elastic band, and laid it on Veronica’s knee without a word.
Veronica looked at it and uttered an incredulous scream of joy. “Where did you find it?” she gasped.
“Back on Elm Street, before I met you,” said Katherine quietly.
“Back on Elm Street, before you met me?” repeated Veronica wonderingly. “You had it all this while?” Katherine nodded. “Then why did you keep it all this while?” demanded Veronica. “Why didn’t you give it to me at once and save all this agony?”
Katherine looked at her narrowly. “I didn’t dare give it to youbefore nine o’clock,” she said significantly.
Veronica started and clutched Katherine’s arm nervously. “What do you mean?” she asked faintly.
Katherine put her arm around Veronica and drew her toward her so she could look into her face. The light from the swinging arc was directly upon her. “You were going to run away on that nine o’clock train, weren’t you?” she asked quietly.
Veronica jerked away and turned dreadfully pale. “How—how did you know?” she faltered.
“I didn’t, for sure,” said Katherine. “But I made a pretty good guess. You see, when I found that wallet, I naturally looked inside. There I saw your name, five hundred dollars in bills, and a note which read:
“‘Take the New York Central Flyer at nine o’clock Wednesday night.’ It was signed with the initials A. T., which I suppose stand for that friend of yours with the plush whiskers, Alex Toboggan.”
“Alex Tobin,” corrected Veronica under her breath.
“That looked suspicious to me,” continued Katherine. “I’ve seen him around with you a good deal, and I don’t like his looks, not a little bit. Then a minute later I came upon you with a suitcase, hunting your wallet and looking at your watch as if you were crazy. So I came to the conclusion that you were planning to run away on that nine o’clock train, and decided to hold you up by keeping the money until the train was gone. Am I right?”
Veronica’s eyes dropped and her face was crimson. “You are right,” she said unsteadily. “I was planning to run away on that train. After I dropped out of the Camp Fire Group I had no girl friends and became lonelier and lonelier all the while. The only interest I had was my music, and the only place to which I went was to hear the Symphony Orchestra rehearse. There, Alex Tobin, who is really a fine violinist, was always very friendly to me and kept telling me I should go to New York and study with Martini, who is the best teacher in the country. Uncle would not let me go because he said I was too young and he could not go with me. But Alex Tobin kept telling me that uncle was jealous of my talent and was trying to keep me back on purpose, and if I had any money in my own right I should take it and go anyhow. Uncle quarreled with Alex Tobin and after that he forbade me to have anything to do with him, but he used to meet me outside, and always he talked about my talent, and what a shame it was I could not study with Martini, and things like that, until I began to think I was abused. I was very lonely, you know, and had nothing else to think about.
“Well, this week was the end of the Symphony Orchestra rehearsals, and Alex Tobin was going home to New York. He promised me that if I would play in a restaurant there in which he is interested he would see me safely there and introduce me to Martini. He talked so much about it that I finally yielded and said I would go. I had money in the bank, but could not draw it out without uncle’s consent. However, just this week he wanted to invest five hundred dollars for me and gave me his signature so I could get it. You know how easy uncle is about money matters, and he thought it was perfectly all right to send me to the bank alone. I have gone about by myself so much, you know. But instead of going to his studio with it, as I was supposed to, I kept it with me and did not go home at all.
“I was to meet Mr. Tobin in the station at a quarter before nine. If I was not there when the train went he was going without me. I was so excited all day I did not have time to stop and think what I was doing, and how terrible it was to run away from uncle and aunt, when they had been so kind to me, even to study with Martini. I looked upon Alex Tobin as my friend and benefactor, instead of a horrid, scheming man, as I see he is now. He just wanted me to play in that restaurant of his for nothing, and draw crowds, and beyond that he really didn’t care what became of me.
“When I lost the money I was nearly frantic, because I was afraid I would miss the train. But when the clock struck nine and I knew the train was gone, I suddenly felt glad, glad, although I had been so anxious to go. For I had come to myself and felt sick at the thought of what I had almost done. Oh, Katherine, how can I ever thank you for keeping me from doing it?”
“Don’t try,” said Katherine cheerfully, rubbing away at a grass stain on her skirt with the wreck of a white silk glove.
For the first time Veronica noticed Katherine’s white dress. “Oh, Katherine,” she exclaimed in distress, “tonight is your class banquet! I heard some of the other girls talking about it. And you have missed it for my sake!”
“Why, so it is,” said Katherine, with a well-feigned start of recollection. “I had forgotten all about it.”
“No, you didn’t forget it,” persisted Veronica; “you deliberately spent the time here with me.”
“Well, never mind about that,” said Katherine soothingly. “It was worth it.”
“Worth it? Oh, Katherine, after the way I have treated you! I once called you a peasant, but you are noble—you are a princess! It is I who am not fit to associate with you!”
“O Glory!” exclaimed Katherine in an embarrassed way. Katherine was like a fish out of water when anyone began to express emotion. “Forget about the whole business,” she said, “and come back into the group. You need to have something on your mind.”
“They will never take me back now,” said Veronica sadly, “after this dreadful thing I did.”
“But you didn’t do it,” maintained Katherine, “you came to your senses in time. We all have done some pretty foolish things, I guess, if they weren’t quite so startling as the one you planned. But anyway, they’ll never know a thing about it, so they can’t have the laugh on you.”
“You mean you’ll never tell anyone?” cried Veronica unbelievingly.
“Not a soul,” said Katherine earnestly. “Not any of the Winnebagos, nor your uncle, nor your aunt, nor even Nyoda. Never a word, on my honor as a—a peasant! If I had intended telling anyone I’d have taken your wallet to your uncle right away, with the note in it, instead of keeping you back in the way I did. But I knew you’d come to yourself presently, and there was no use making a fuss. I’ll keep your secret, never fear. I won’t even have to explain my absence from the class banquet. They all know how absent-minded I am, and they will simply think I forgot. That’s the advantage of having a reputation!” And Veronica, looking into Katherine’s homely, honest face, knew that her word would stand against flood and earthquake.
“Do you really think the Winnebagos will take me back?” she asked timidly.
For answer Katherine picked up Veronica’s suitcase, linked her arm through hers, and started homeward at a lively pace. “Youareback,” she said simply. “You never were really ‘put out,’ you know. You left of your own accord and we have missed you very much and were just waiting for you to say the word. Oh, I’m so glad!” And her feet began to shuffle back and forth in a lively manner, and she began to hum in sprightly tones the tune, “When Johnny Comes Marching Home.” Thus it was that the Torch, carried by Katherine, drew Veronica to the Fire after all, although Katherine did not even know that she held the Torch in her hand.
The last meeting of the Winnebagos with Nyoda came, oh, much too soon! The boys were warned to stay away, for not even these dear friends were to be allowed to disturb the sacredness of that gathering. They cooked supper for the last time, trying to be riotously cheerful, with the tears dripping off the ends of their noses into the dishes. All the favorite Winnebago messes were cooked, because Nyoda couldn’t decide which one she wanted most. There was Shrimp Wiggle and Slumgullion and scones and ice cream with Wohelo Special Sauce, which was a heavenly mixture of maple syrup, chocolate and chopped nuts.
The feast was soon spread, and they gathered around the table to sing the Camp Fire blessing,
“If we have earned the right to eat this bread,”
“If we have earned the right to eat this bread,”
and most of the voices quavered before they came to the end.
That supper remained in their memories many years afterward. Katherine had to deliver all her familiar speeches over and over again; Migwan, who had come home from college in time to attend the farewell meeting, gave a fine history of the group from its beginning; Gladys danced her best dances; and all the favorite stunts were gone through and the favorite songs sung. And Nyoda looked upon and listened to it all with a smiling face and tear-dimmed eyes. The Winnebagos had formed a large part of her life for the past three years. Veronica, who was at the supper, and had been welcomed back into the group with open arms upon her humble apology, wept disconsolately most of the time. To have been restored to the good graces of this wonderful young woman, only to lose her again immediately afterward! She bitterly regretted her withdrawing from the group during the winter and thus losing her last opportunity of comradeship with Nyoda.
Supper over they wandered out into the warm June twilight to watch for the evening stars before beginning the ceremonial meeting. “We’ll have the same stars as you do, anyhow,” said Hinpoha, “and when they come out we’ll think of each other, will you, Nyoda?”
“Indeed I will,” said Nyoda, heartily.
“And when Cassiopea comes out the W will stand for Winnebago,” added Gladys.
“And that long scraggly constellation will remind you of me,” said Katherine, and they all had to laugh in spite of their sadness.
By and by they wandered back to the House of the Open Door and Nyoda went up alone and left them standing before the door. Then pretty soon the signal bird calls floated up and Nyoda’s voice called down from above, saying, “Who’s there?” and they answered with the foolish passwords and countersigns that they loved because they were so foolish. One by one they climbed the ladder and took their places in the circle, their eyes on Nyoda, as she twirled the drill with the bow, kindling their last Council Fire. The spark came immediately and leapt into flame and kindled the fagots piled on the hearth. Feeling the spell of it as they never had before, they sang “Burn, Fire, Burn.”
Then came the last roll call. Nyoda’s voice lingered lovingly on each name: “Hinpoha; Sahwah; Geyahi (Gladys); Iagoonah; Medmangi; Nakwisi; Waban (Veronica).”
Migwan read the Count, written in her inimitable lilting metre, which touched on the many happy times they had had together, and ended,
“All too brief that Moon of Gladness,Long shall be the years of parting!”
“All too brief that Moon of Gladness,
Long shall be the years of parting!”
Then Hinpoha put her head on her knee with a stifled sob, and at that they all broke down and cried together, with their arms around Nyoda.
“Come girls, be good,” said Nyoda, after a minute, sitting up and wiping her eyes. “Stand up and take your honors like men!”
And she proceeded to raise all the girls who had not already taken that honor, to the rank of Torchbearer, excepting, of course, Veronica. As she awarded the pins she spoke a few words to each girl, telling in what way she had become worthy of this highest rank. When she came to Katherine, she laid her hand on her shoulder. “Good wine needs no bush,” she said with a whimsical smile. “And Katherine needs no advocate. Her actions speak for themselves. Her masterly handling of that volley ball game the other day gives the keynote to her character. The ability to snatch victory from seeming defeat is a gift which will carry one far in the world. And do not forget that Katherine went into that game as a humble filler-in, simply to oblige the team, and without a thought of gaining any glory thereby. That is what I meant by losing one’s self in the common cause which is a necessary qualification for a Torchbearer. Katherine would go to any trouble to help somebody else get glory for themselves, or to help them out of trouble.” And Veronica almost burst with the desire to tell of the last great service Katherine had done her.
Katherine blushed at Nyoda’s words and winked back the tears and dropped the pin, and murmured brokenly that she would try to be a worthy Torchbearer, and would do her best to stop being so absent-minded. And then all the Torchbearers, new and old, joined hands in a circle and repeated their desire:
“The light that has been given to meI desire to pass undimmed unto others.”
“The light that has been given to me
I desire to pass undimmed unto others.”
“And now a word about the future,” said Nyoda, putting wood on the fire and sending the flames roaring up the chimney. “You girls declare you do not want another Guardian. I heartily agree with you in this. That does not mean that I would be jealous of a possible successor. But I think the time has come when you no longer need a Guardian. For three years you have been bound together by ties stronger than sisterhood, and have had all the fun that it is possible for girls to have, working always as a unit. You have stood in a close circle, always facing inward. Now you must turn around and face outward. You have been leaders from the beginning, and I have trained you as leaders. And a leader must stand alone. Each one of you will have a different way of passing on the light. The time has come to begin. The old order has passed when you did every thing under my direction. You must kindle new Camp Fires now and teach to others the things you have learned.”