“There is the queen of all,” answered the old woman softly. “She now is one hundred years old. She lives in Roumania. Each year are her commands received by all her peoples throughout the world. How, I cannot tell you. It is a secret of the Romanys. We love, we hate, but not as do the Gorgios. But see! The princess has returned. She seeks her friends.”
“You—you mean Miss McCarthy?” questioned Harriet.
The Gipsy nodded gravely.
“Good grathiouth,” exclaimed Tommy. “Thhe’th got eyeth in the top of her head. How doeth thhe know that Jane hath come back?”
“I read the message in the teacup,” answered Sybarina. “It is time, fair daughter to begin, if you would read the secrets of the stars. Come with me and you shall be prepared.”
Harriet rose and followed the old woman to one of the gaudily painted wagons, without the slightest hesitancy.
“Oh, good gracious! Where are they?” cried Crazy Jane, as she walked into the Gipsy camp.
The girls glanced at each other wonderingly. Had not the Gipsy queen just told them that Jane had arrived at the Meadow-Brook camp? The mystery was too great for them to solve.
“But darlin’s, what does it mean? The Gipsy girl who came for me, said you were staying here for the night.”
“We have been invited to be the guests of the tribe for this night, Jane. Sybarina is the queen of these Gipsies, you know. She is the one we rescued from the burning barn.”
“Of course. Why are you here?”
The guardian explained how they had been attacked by tramps and how the Gipsy woman and her companions had come to their rescue.
Jane was amazed, then her face flushed with anger. She wanted to know if the Tramp Club had been seen. Miss Elting said they had not.
“But where is my darlin’ Harriet?” questioned Jane, gazing at her inquiringly.
“She has gone with the queen into one of the wagons. You will see her soon.”
“Won’t it be jolly, Jane, to spend a night in a Gipsy camp?” cried Hazel.
“Well, that depends. I’ve heard the tribes weren’t overly clean.”
“Sh-h-h!” warned Miss Elting. “You mustn’t say such things here. Remember we are guests.”
“I’m not likely to forget it. Oh, look at that pretty Gipsy girl! What a beauty!” cried Jane delightedly.
The Gipsy girl who had emerged from one of the wagons was indeed pretty. Her hands were demurely folded, her head lowered, and her eyes veiled by drooping lashes, as she moved slowly toward the group. She came to a halt directly in front of Crazy Jane.
“Cross my palm with silver and I’ll read your past and your future,” invited the pretty Gipsy girl.
Crazy Jane leaned forward regarding the Gipsy girl with keen, searching eyes.
“Indeed I will. Yes, darlin’, you can read my future and my past. How much silver shall I cross your palm with?”
“What you will, pretty lady.”
Jane placed a shining fifty cent piece on the open palm. Something about the palm appeared to interest her very much. Just at this juncture, the Gipsy girl chanced to look up. The eyes of the two girls met. Jane uttered a whoop and embraced the girl in a bearlike hug.
“If it isn’t my own darlin’ Harriet,” she cried. “But who would have thought it. Hurrah for Harriet, the Gipsy!”
“Ah, daughter, she is the true Romany,” interrupted Sybarina, suddenly appearing behind Harriet. “None but a true daughter of Romany could have said those words so well.” The old woman’s eyes gleamed with pride. Then she exclaimed: “I see strangers coming to the camp of the Gipsy! Would you have them see you, or would you watch them from the wagons?”
“From the wagons,” chorused the girls.
“The Romany princess, she of the brown eyes, may wander at will. The strangers will not think her a Gorgio. She is a true Romany.”
“Thank you, Sybarina, I will go with my friends. Perhaps I may come out later,” answered Harriet. She was dressed in Gipsy costume, and her face, already dark, had been slightly stained with herbs which the old woman had rubbed on both her face and hands.
The young men and women from nearbyfarms began to stroll into the camp to have their fortunes told. With them came several keen-eyed farmers, leading horses which they had brought in for a chance at a trade. The Gipsy men quickly gathered about the animals, then began the incessant talk of the horse trader, the Gipsies being particularly shrewd in that line of business. In the meantime Sybarina and several other women of the tribe were reading the futures of the giggling country girls. It was all very interesting to the girls in the nearby wagon. They were peering out from the darkened interior, unseen. Never before had they experienced anything so romantic or so picturesque.
Harriet finally wandered out into the field. She attracted attention only because of her slender figure and pretty face. She had no fear of being recognized, for no one there ever had seen her before.
“Isn’t she a typical Gipsy, though?” chuckled Jane, gazing admiringly at Harriet.
“Unless one knew she were not, one couldn’t tell the difference,” answered Miss Elting. “Just look at that girl for whom the queen is telling a fortune. See how eagerly she drinks in every word. Every word is true to her. She believes it all.”
“So does Sybarina,” replied Hazel.
“Yes, I think she does. Do you know, Jane, she told us when you arrived at the tent. I think it must have been at the moment when you reached there. I can’t imagine how she knew.”
“Maybe she heard the car,” suggested Margery.
“No she didn’t,” declared Jane. “I drove into the camp without making a sound. I wanted to give you a surprise. I wonder how she knew I was near.”
Neither Jane nor any of her companions had thought of the big headlights on the car, the glint of which had flashed on the foliage of a tree near the gipsy camp just as Jane was swinging into the byway that led down to the Meadow-Brook camp. Perhaps the old gipsy’s keen eyes had caught this flash and read it aright. But this the girls were never to know. Their attention, just now, was attracted by the sound of loud talking. Voices were heard approaching the camp.
“I guess we are going to have quite a party this evening,” said Harriet, stepping into the wagon. “Oh, this is simply great! What a pity we aren’t all made up to look like Gipsies.”
“Look, girls!” exclaimed the guardian.
They did look, with widening eyes.
“My grathiouth, if it ithn’t thothe Tramp boyth,” breathed Tommy.
“It certainly is the Tramp Club. There’s Captain Baker and Sammy and Dill and Davy. Where could they have come from?” wondered Hazel.
“Oh, let’s go out and call to them,” suggested Margery enthusiastically.
“Wait,” warned Harriet. “I have a plan that I think will work to perfection. If it does, we’ll have some fun with the Tramp Club this evening.”
“What is it, darlin’?”
Harriet whispered in Jane’s ear. Crazy Jane uttered a loud laugh.
“Sh-h-h!” warned the guardian. “You will betray our hiding place to those boys.”
“I must get word to Sybarina. I wish she would come over here,” mused Harriet.
As though in answer to her wish, Sybarina rose and hobbled toward the wagon. She halted at the step without looking up.
“The friends of the pretty ladies are here. What do the pretty ladies wish to do?”
“Oh, Sybarina! I want to read the future for that boy yonder on the right, the one with the reddish hair. May I? Please let me.”
“It shall be as the Romany girl wishes, but she must be grave, she must not make her real self known to the laughing boy.”
“No, no, no! I promise not to betray myidentity. But what shall I say? I don’t know what to say,” begged Harriet.
“The words will come unbidden to the lips of the Romany girl. Fear not. Come.” There was a suspicion of a twinkle in the piercing black eyes as Sybarina stretched forth her hand to Harriet Burrell. Harriet’s heart thumped violently as she stepped down from the wagon. “If I get a chance to read George Baker’s palm I will make him stand as near to the wagon as possible, so you girls can hear what I say to him, but don’t you dare make a sound.”
“Isn’t she the clever darlin’?” chuckled Crazy Jane.
“Harriet is a very resourceful girl,” answered Hazel admiringly.
“Yes; Harriet has added a good many honor beads to her string during this hike,” replied the guardian. “I think, too, that she is going to pay those boys the debt that we owe them.”
“Listen!” commanded Jane. Sybarina was speaking.
“Behold before you the Star of the East. Behold one who has come out of the East to read the future true. Cross her palm with silver and the Oracle will speak, revealing the past and foretelling the future.”
The Gipsy queen had not led Harriet into the bright light. Instead the girl, in the fainter light at the outer edge of the circle, stood with downcast eyes, hands folded before her.
“Cross My Hand With Silver.”“Cross My Hand With Silver.”
“Who shall be the first to hear the future and the past from the Star of the East?”
“Say, fellows, now is the time to find out a few things,” laughed Captain George Baker. “Here’s where I consult the Star of the East. Here, young woman, read my palm. I don’t know anything about this fortune-telling business, and I don’t believe in it, but I’m willing to take a chance on it. How much does it cost to consult the stars?”
“For a silver quarter I will reveal the past only. Cross my hand with a silver dollar and both the past and future shall be as an open book,” answered Harriet, speaking in a low tone, disguising her voice as much as possible.
George uttered a low whistle.
“A dollar! Whew! Isn’t that pretty high?”
“The stars are higher,” was the curt reply of the Star of the East.
There was an audible giggle from the interior of the nearby wagon. Harriet heard it, but Captain Baker was too much interested in the prospect of having his fortune told to give heed to the sound.
“Isn’t she the clever darlin’?” reiterated Crazy Jane, restraining herself from shouting only by a great effort of will.
“All right. Here’s your money. But, mind you, I’ll expect a lot of information for a dollar.”
“The past and future are not measured by silver,” retorted Harriet. “That which is past the Oracle has revealed to me. That which is to be, I alone can tell. I am but the mouthpiece of the Oracle, but the Oracle cannot lie.”
“I’m glad to be assured of hearing the truth, at any rate,” replied George flippantly.
“Be at rest. You shall hear the truth,” promised the Star of the East dryly. Then taking George’s hand in hers she gravely scrutinized the lines of his palm.
“The lines of your hand tell me many things,” she began.
“Then be sure that you tell me all about them. I want my money’s worth,” urged the captain.
“The past and future shall be fully revealed to you,” promised the supposed Gipsy. Captain George Baker of the Tramp Club then listened to a fortune that, though it did not wholly please, amazed him beyond measure.
“Your hand tells me that you travel not alone,” continued Harriet. “Other youths are with you. Together you have journeyed for many days along the highway.”
“Well? That’s nothing. Anybody could see that,” jeered George.
“If you would listen to the word of the Oracle, be silent. On your journey, maidens have crossed your path. They, too, are wayfarers along the trail. You have held out the hand of fellowship to them, but your friendship is false and your hearts are full of guile.”
“That’s just where you’re wrong,” interrupted George. “Those girls are all right and we like them a lot. I’d like to know how you know so much about them.”
“The Gipsy knows many things,” replied Harriet enigmatically. “Your hand reveals to her the grievous wrong you have done these trusting maidens.”
“Oh, that’s not so,” contradicted George.
“None can deceive the Oracle,” was the stern answer. “I see here a camp. The campfireburns brightly. About it sit the maidens. Look! Six youths approach. With them they bear a sack filled with the melons of the field. The maidens welcome them with smiles and pleasant words. They little know whence came these melons. They little know that before them lies the bitter fruit of lawless thievery.”
“Oh, that’s putting it altogether too strong,” expostulated George. “How can you tell anything about where those melons came from by the lines of my hand?”
“To the Prophet of the Oracle all things are plain,” replied the Star of the East. “In the early darkness of the night, ere the moon rose, the evildoers stole forth, and robbed the farmer of his melons.”
“This is becoming too personal,” gasped George, mopping his forehead.
“Word was brought to the farmer of this wicked deed and he hurried forth to catch the thieves,” continued Harriet. “Long did he search for them. Then seeing the camp of the maidens he approached, and finding them innocently eating his melons, he poured forth the vials of his wrath upon their defenseless heads. He branded them as thieves and demanded settlement. They crossed the farmer’s palm with much silver to pay for the stolen melons. They were too noble to betray the real thieves.”
Captain George shifted uneasily. “That’s really too bad. I’m sorry they got into such a mess,” he muttered. “I wonder what they think of us.”
“Their hearts are filled with shame and sorrow at the deceitfulness of those whom they supposed were their friends.”
“But—but the boys didn’t intend to make trouble for the girls,” protested the captain. “They thought it would be great fun to forage for melons, and at the same time to give the girls a treat.”
The supposed gipsy shook her head slowly.
“It makes no difference what they thought. The deed is done. There is only one way in which the wrong can be righted.”
“How can these boys square themselves with the girls?” questioned George eagerly.
“I will consult the Oracle.” The Gipsy girl stood with head bent as though in deep thought. Then she said solemnly: “If the wicked boys will go to those whom they have so cruelly wronged and ask pardon for their unmanly behavior perhaps forgiveness may be theirs.”
“I—I guess I’d better,” returned George earnestly. At this juncture a smothered giggle from the darkened Gipsy wagon came near breaking up the seance. He glanced up suspiciously. Harriet’s face was grave.
“You have chosen wisely. Will you obey the command of the Oracle?”
“Oh, ye—es. I’ll apologize. I’ll do it. It’s wonderful. I never thought there was so much to fortune telling.”
“There is more to it than you dream,” answered Harriet Burrell, and with much truth on her side. There was indeed more to it than Captain George Baker dreamed. In the Gipsy wagon four girls and their guardian were making desperate efforts to control their laughter that the sounds of their merriment might not be heard by the young man outside.
“Can you answer any question I ask you?” queried George, after thinking deeply.
“The Oracle knows all things, if it will but speak,” answered the Gipsy girl, leaving an avenue of escape if he should ask her something that she was unable to answer.
“Where are the girls now?”
“They are near at hand. Would you see them?”
“No, no. Not to-night,” hastily interposed Captain Baker. “What I wish to know is where they are.”
“You would know if they have outwitted you in the race?”
“Yes, yes. But how do you know what I am thinking about?”
“The mouthpiece of the Oracle knows all things,” crooned the fortune teller. “No, they have not yet won the race. You shall see them on the morrow.”
“Where? Tell me where?”
“A short span of twelve miles hence there is a spring. The spring is known as Granite Spring.”
“Yes, yes? Will they be there?” he asked eagerly.
“No, not there,” replied the Gipsy. “But you will find them near at hand. Seek and you shall find, but go with humble spirit, else disaster may overtake you.”
“Thank you, I’ll do as you say. This is wonderful. I want my friends to have their fortunes told by you. You are the right kind. I wonder if you can tell me just what these girls are going to do to get ahead of us in the race.”
“I will consult the Oracle once more,” replied the fortune teller.
It was fully two minutes before Harriet raised her head. George stood eagerly awaiting her answer.
“The Oracle knows but will not say,” replied Harriet coldly. “The Oracle is ever fair and just. It will not reveal the plans of the maidens to their enemies. The Star of the East is weary. She cannot read the palms of your friends.Your way lies yonder. Your companions await you.”
Captain George, very red of face, a sheepish expression in his eyes, got up hastily and walked over to his companions who were sitting on the ground awaiting him.
“Come on, fellows. Let’s get out of here. This place gives me the creeps.”
“You seemed mighty interested in what that Gipsy girl had to say. Did she tell you anything remarkable?” asked Dill laughingly.
“Did she? I should say she did.”
“Then you did better than the rest of us. That other young Gipsy woman didn’t tell me a single thing.”
“The old Gipsy woman gave it to me red hot!” exclaimed Sam. “She told me some things I’d just as soon not have heard. She said I was started on the road to thievery. Now what do you think of that?”
“That’s nothing,” replied George. “The young one told me all about it.”
“About what?” questioned Davy.
“That melon business.”
“You don’t mean it?”
“Yes, I do. She told me about the whole affair.”
“Well, what do you think of that?” wondered Fred.
“I didn’t think much of it.”
“How do you suppose she found out about it?”
“Don’t ask me,” replied George gloomily. “She said that the Oracle told her.”
“You don’t believe such nonsense as that, do you?” asked Davy.
“I don’t know what to think about it. Gipsies are queer folks. They’re too mysterious to suit me. I’ve got all I want of them. They know too much,” declared the captain. “Why, they can read one’s thoughts.”
In the meantime, Harriet gleefully watched the departure of the boys from the camp. There was laughter in her eyes. She turned to the wagon where her companions were now giving expression to uncontrolled merriment. Few visitors remained in the camp, and these were some distance away.
“Well, I think I have evened up matters with that young man,” declared Harriet. “What do you say, girls?” she asked, thrusting a laughing face into the wagon.
“Oh, Harriet!” gasped Miss Elting. “It was the funniest thing I ever heard. And he believed every word of it.”
“Why shouldn’t he? It was the truth. By the way, Miss Elting—I have collected one dollar of that four dollars and eighty cents thatyou paid for the melons,” said Harriet, extending a hand in the palm of which lay Captain Baker’s silver dollar.
“Oh, no, no,” protested the guardian, drawing back. “I could not think of accepting the money.”
“Why not? I can collect the whole amount in a very short time at this rate,” laughed Harriet.
“Oh, darlin’! What a girl, what a girl!” laughed Crazy Jane.
“No. You must not keep it. It does not rightfully belong to you.”
“Then if you refuse to accept the money I shall give it to Sybarina. She’ll take it. Trust a Gipsy to take everything that is offered.”
Sybarina graciously accepted the money. Her eyes shone as she hobbled over to Harriet Burrell and exclaimed earnestly: “I said you were the true Romany. Now I know it. Did I not tell you the power to foretell both the past and future would come to you unbidden?”
“Yes,” laughed Harriet, “but I happened to know considerable about the Tramp Club’s affairs particularly since they visited a certain melon patch. Is there any danger of those boys returning to-night?”
Sybarina shook her head. “They have returned to their camp.”
“Where are they camping?”
“On yonder hillside. Even now you can catch the glow of their campfire. But you shall see them again and you shall make them red of face for the trick which they played on you and your friends, my Romany girls. You would outwit them?”
“We are trying to get home ahead of them.”
The old woman nodded.
“The way shall be made clear to you. Sybarina will tell the Romany girl how to defeat her rivals, to show them that the Romany tribes know the secret bypaths as the birds know the trail to the sunny land when the frost is in the air. Come, child. Come, sit by the fire, while Sybarina tells you that which shall make the way clear.”
A long conversation was held between Harriet and the Gipsy queen, the latter drawing a map on the ground with a willow wand to show the girl the route that she was to travel after the Meadow-Brook Girls had gone on for another day.
Harriet’s eyes were sparkling. She thoughtshe saw a way to outwit the Tramp Club. Harriet was chuckling gleefully when she joined her companions. She declined to tell them that night, however, just what the Gipsy had communicated to her.
“Where shall we sleep to-night?” asked Miss Elting.
“Sybarina says we may have the wagon to sleep in,” answered Harriet. “Shall we use it?”
“No. I think I prefer to sleep in the open,” answered the guardian. “It is not a cool night. Suppose we roll up in our blankets and sleep by the campfire? What do you say, girls?”
“I thay yeth,” spoke up Tommy. “I’ll put my feet againtht the fire; then I won’t have cold feet any more.”
They were sound asleep in a few moments after turning in. Even the Gipsy dogs that had been barking most of the evening, and the crying babies, to whom none of the tribe had given the slightest heed, were now quietly asleep. Sybarina watched her guests roll up in their blankets and nodded approvingly.
“The true Romany,” she muttered. For a long time the old woman sat by the fire, sat until the embers fell together and the sticks began to blacken, when she rose and peered into each sleeping face of the Meadow-Brook Girls. Sybarinathen hobbled to her own wagon and disappeared within.
The Meadow-Brook Girls awakened next morning with the sun in their eyes. Miss Elting sat up and called softly to Harriet. The guardian and Harriet rubbed their eyes and blinked dazedly about them. There was something strange about their surroundings, but just what that strangeness was they for the moment did not know. All at once they discovered what had happened. They were absolutely alone, save for their sleeping companions.
“Why, they’ve gone!” cried Harriet.
“Gone and we never woke up,” laughed Miss Elting. “How strange.”
“Who hath gone?” mumbled Tommy, sitting up.
“The Gipsies,” answered Harriet.
“They must have left in a great hurry, for some reason,” suggested the guardian. “I don’t understand it. Nor do I understand how they managed to slip away so quietly.”
The wagon tracks were plainly outlined in the soft earth and the remnants of the campfire were there, but that was all. Yet it was not all. As Harriet sought to draw on her shoe she felt something hard in the toe. Groping in the shoe with her fingers she drew forth a tightly wrapped paper. Opening this she found a tinybrass triangle. On it were crudely cut several strange characters.
“How curious,” breathed Harriet. “But how did it get in my shoe?” she wondered.
“Look on the wrapping paper,” suggested Miss Elting.
Harriet did so. As she looked the puzzled expression on her face gave place to a smile.
“It is from Sybarina,” she exclaimed. “This is what she writes: ‘A charm for the Romany girl. No harm shall come to her who wears it. Happiness and prosperity shall be hers forever and always. It is the Gipsy good luck charm. Who knows but that, some day, you may wear it as a queen? Farewell until we meet again.’”
“How strange!” murmured Harriet, holding up the trinket that her companions might see.
“I wonder if it ith a charm againtht bullth?” piped Tommy.
“I would suggest, girls, that we return to our own camp. It may not be there by this time.”
Upon reaching their own camp they were much relieved to find everything as it should be. Nothing had been disturbed. But, ere they had finished their breakfast, three farmers came striding in to know if anything had been seen of the Gipsies.
“They left early this morning,” answered Miss Elting. “Why?”
“Wal, nothing only one of them traded off on me a ring-boned, spavined old hoss, which he said was sound. I’ll catch them when they come this way again.”
“I think I understand why the Gipsies took such an early departure,” said Harriet after the men had gone. “But I do not believe Sybarina had anything to do with such dishonest dealing.”
The day’s route was laid out after breakfast. The boys undoubtedly had gone on, for nothing was to be seen of their campfire. Miss Elting rather thought they would see no more of the Tramp Club after the fortune-telling that Harriet had given the chief the night before. But with the route that Sybarina had laid out for the girls, the guardian believed they could make some time and gain the advantage over the boys.
Camp was hurriedly struck after breakfast. Their route that day lay across lots and their camping place was to be on the edge of a forest easily accessible to Jane with her motor car. Using government maps, as they were doing, they were able to locate every little rise of ground, every hollow and almost every clump of bushes along their way. These government maps Miss Elting had purchased at a comparatively small cost, as any one may do. They are very useful to one who is taking a trampthrough the country, and the Meadow-Brook Girls found them so.
Jane accompanied her companions out to the highway and followed along behind them in her car for the first mile. Then their ways parted, the tramping girls to climb a hill, Crazy Jane to follow the highway on to the point where she too was to leave the road and make camp for them. But there was always a long wait for Jane, so the girl occupied the time in driving to the nearest village to make a number of purchases at the stores.
Her shopping done Jane lost no time in cranking up her car, hopped in and with a wave of her hand swung down the road and went honking through the village on the way to the place chosen for the Meadow-Brook Girls’ camp for that night. Jane had avoided all questions about herself and her party, except to say that they were camping. The girl did not propose to leave a trail for the Tramp Club if she could avoid it. As the girls were nearing the end of their journey it behooved them to cloak their movements withsecrecy if they hoped to outwit their young rivals and win the race, which they were determined to do.
Jane had pitched the tent just within the edge of the woods and had started a small cook-fire when the welcome “hoo-e-e-e” of the Meadow-Brook Girls first reached her ears. She ran out into the open waving her apron and shouting a welcome.
“There she is,” cried Margery.
“Dear old Jane!” exclaimed Hazel. “She has gotten everything ready for us and started a fire.”
“I propose three cheers for Jane McCarthy,” cried Harriet. The cheers were given in the shrillest tones of the Meadow-Brook Girls. Jane bowed in exaggerated fashion at this ovation.
“Have you seen the boys to-day, Jane?” was Harriet’s first question.
“Not a sign of them, the rascals,” replied Jane.
“I imagine that they are at Granite Spring, half a dozen miles back,” laughed Harriet.
“What makes you think so?” asked Hazel.
“Because, when I read Captain Baker’s fortune, I told him that our next camping place was to be not far from that place. He will make straight for Granite Spring, you see if he doesn’t.”
“Then I don’t think we’ll see the lads again this trip,” concluded Jane. “But, girls, you’ve got to get busy if you hope to win this contest. Three more days of hiking will bring you to Meadow-Brook. If the boys once get ahead of you, you can’t expect to catch up with them and win in that length of time.”
“We simply must win, Jane,” returned Harriet determinedly.
“Then you’d better begin to think about how you’re going to do it,” advised Jane dryly.
“Jane is right,” agreed the guardian. “We must plan to-night. And I think we shall have to put in one big day’s walk, perhaps more than that. I should first like to know where the boys are. Jane, will you make an effort to locate them to-morrow?”
“Yes, indeed, Miss Elting.”
“When we have definite information on that point we ought to be able to map out a plan of campaign that will win the contest for us. I believe we have gotten ahead of them now and that we shall be able to keep our lead.”
“Of course we are going to win,” reiterated Harriet Burrell.
“If it is all settled that we are to win the race, I propose that we celebrate to-night,” suggested Jane.
“How?” asked Margery.
“I’ve got a bag of fruit in the car. We’ll make fruit lemonade, then we’ll have a combietta concert.”
“What ith a combietta conthert?” interrupted Tommy curiously.
“Wait and see,” teased Jane.
“Now, Jane, be good and tell us about this combietta affair?” coaxed Hazel. “What is it?”
“An instrumental concert,” giggled Jane. “I got the musical instruments when I was in town doing some shopping. Oh, don’t worry, darlin’s. You all know to play them. The first thing to do is to decide upon the tune. How about the ‘Marching Through Georgia’ for a starter?”
Jane spread out six squares of thin white paper. She then produced the same number of small packages.
“Oh, we’ll wake the squirrels and the chipmunks and the weasles,” promised Jane, with a grin of anticipation.
Tommy picked at the wrapping on the end of one of the small packages and uttered an exclamation of disappointment.
“It ithn’t a musical inthrument at all,” she declared indignantly. “It ith nothing but a common old black comb.”
“That’s just where you’re wrong,” answeredJane. “These combs are new. I bought them in the village store this very day. Listen, dears. This is the combietta. It makes music through its teeth, and plays any tune you call for.”
“Wonderful,” laughed Miss Elting. “There is something very familiar about this marvelous musical instrument. Combietta, do you call it, Jane?”
“Sure I do. But the name is my own invention. The music is as old as the combs themselves and I don’t know how old they are.”
“I remember having made music with combs when I was a girl in short frocks,” nodded the guardian. “Play, Jane, and show the girls how to make music.”
Crazy Jane folded one of the square slips of paper over the teeth of one of the combs, then placed the comb’s teeth between her own.
“Zu—zu—zu-zee-zee-zah,” she breathed through paper and comb, which strange sounds were instantly interpreted by Jane’s companions, as “Come Back to Erin.”
Each girl with a cry of delight, now snatched up a comb, wrapped it in the thin paper and joined enthusiastically in the chorus of “Come Back to Erin.” Tommy Thompson, fully as delighted as her companions, leaned against a tree making hideous noises on her comb; MissElting, sitting on a stump, eyes fixed on the foliage far above her, was an enthusiastic performer in the combietta concert.
“Now, ‘Marching Through Georgia,’” she cried.
“I can’t play fast enough to play that,” complained Buster.
“Then play anything you like,” answered Harriet, with a merry laugh.
“Yes. Make a noise. You don’t all have to play the same tune. This is a celebration,” shouted Jane. “What we want is noise and lots of it to celebrate the victory we are going to win.”
And noise there was, a perfect pandemonium of sounds, principally inharmonious.
A sudden, startling chorus of yells and a burst of music from the forest, brought the girls’ concert to a sudden stop. Lights flashed from the bushes near at hand, whirling about them in giddy circles like great pinwheels. The Meadow-Brook Girls were surrounded by wildly yelling figures, strange flaring lights—and music.
“Indianth!” screamed Tommy. “We’ll all be thcalped. Oh, thave me!” Then the little lisping girl ran like a frightened deer, for the protection of the Meadow-Brook Girls’ tent.
“Oh, what is it?” wailed Margery.
No one was able to answer the question for the moment. It was a startling interruption. Even Harriet, though unafraid, could not make up her mind what was the meaning of the outbreak.
Now she saw what the lights were. They were flaring torches made from cat-tails. Then all at once she recalled that the Tramp Club boys played harmonicas. She had heard them play once before.
“Don’t be afraid, girls. It is the boys,” said Harriet in a relieved tone.
“The boys?” questioned Miss Elting. Then her face lighted up understandingly. “Oh the rascals!” she exclaimed.
The girls now that they knew no danger threatened them stood perfectly still, waiting for the concert to come to an end.
“You may come in, boys, when you have finished your concert,” called the guardian. “We have enjoyed the serenade very much.”
The music and shouting ceased abruptly. A moment later Captain Baker stepped into thecamp. His face was flushed, but there was a certain sheepishness about him that made Harriet Burrell’s eyes twinkle.
“Why, Captain! We did not look for you this evening,” greeted Miss Elting.
“Thought you had given us the slip, did you?” grinned George. “You’ll have to get up earlier in the morning, to do that.”
“Oh, won’t you though!” chorused his companions trooping in after their captain.
“But how did you find us?” questioned Harriet.
“Easiest thing in the world. We followed Miss McCarthy’s car tracks.”
“Where to?” twinkled Jane.
“All over the country. You surely led us a fine chase. But we found you, just the same.”
Tommy now ventured from the tent.
“Thay, you nearly thcared me to death,” she chided. “What do you boyth want?”
“Why, Tommy, they came to serenade us,” reproved Miss Elting. “We enjoyed the music very much,” she said, turning toward the boys. “If you will sit down and play another selection, we will serve refreshments afterwards. Jane! Will you get the things ready?”
“Yes. But the boys don’t deserve it. However, so long as we are going to win the race we can afford to treat them well,” teased Jane.
The captain smiled a superior smile.
“We could have gone right on to the end of the route to-day without stopping, if we had wished to do so. But we didn’t want to take an unfair advantage of you.”
“Oh, no. You boys never do take an unfair advantage, do you?” chuckled Crazy Jane. Miss Elting gave her a warning glance. The captain did not observe it.
“Give them another tune, boys,” George ordered.
“First please extinguish those cat-tail torches,” requested Harriet. “You will set the woods on fire, if you are not careful. Everything is so dry now that a fire would start very easily.”
The torches were ground out under foot, after which the Tramp Club played “Home Sweet Home” on the harmonicas. At a nod from the guardian the girls got out their combs and joined in the tune. The woodland inhabitants probably never had heard a concert like this. It sent the birds hopping from limb to limb in great alarm. Fortunately there were no neighbors near at hand, so only the inhabitants of the forest were disturbed.
Jane that day had purchased a large chocolate cake at a baker shop in the village. She brought this out then disappeared into thetent, emerging a few minutes later with a pail of fruit lemonade, while Hazel, who had accompanied Jane, followed her, bearing cups and glasses. Miss Elting busied herself with cutting the cake and Harriet served the lemonade.
“Well, boys, here’s to the candy we’re going to have when we get to our journey’s end,” teased Jane McCarthy, raising her glass of lemonade.
“And here,” returned the captain, raising his glass with a flourish, “is to those beautiful handkerchiefs that we’re going to wear next to our hearts for years and years to come.”
“To the stars that hold our future,” teased Harriet.
The captain paused with the glass of lemonade in his hand. He glanced quickly at Harriet Burrell, but the innocent expression on her face told him nothing. Miss Elting saw that George had something on his mind. She suspected what it was. An amused smile played about the corners of the guardian’s mouth. There was a smile in Harriet’s eyes, too, as she caught and read the thought in the mind of Miss Elting.
After the cake and lemonade had been disposed of, the party of young people chatted for the better part of an hour. Captain Baker, however, appeared uneasy. Twice he essayed to speak then checked himself abruptly.
“It’s coming now,” whispered Harriet. “He’s trying to think of a way to begin.”
Miss Elting nodded.
“I have a confession to make,” began the captain, in an embarrassed manner.
“A confession!” exclaimed Harriet in a surprised tone.
“Yes, I have. Oh, it isn’t for myself alone, but for my friends as well,” continued the captain doggedly. The other boys exhibited signs of uneasiness.
“What about, Mr. Baker?” asked the guardian sweetly.
“It is about those melons.”
“But, my dear boy, you need not apologize for them. They were simply delicious. I can’t tell you how much we enjoyed them.” Miss Elting was making it as hard for George as possible.
“It—it isn’t that. Oh, what’s the use? I don’t know how to say it. We hadn’t any right to give you those melons, Miss Elting.”
“No right? Please explain yourself, Mr. Baker.”
“I’ll tell you all about it. We took those melons from the farmer’s field without leave. We didn’t mean to play a mean trick on you, but we did. We didn’t think the farmer would accuse you girls of stealing the melons. We’re awfully sorryhe made such a fuss about it and that you had to pay for them. Will you please let us return to you the money that you paid him. It was our treat, you know.”
“Hm-m-m! This is a serious matter,” replied the guardian slowly. The girls sat with lowered heads so that the boys might not discover the laughter in their eyes. “I cannot accept the money for the melons. We had better consider the incident closed. It is very manly of you, however, to come and tell us about it. But what induced you to do so?”
“I gueth hith conthcience troubled him,” suggested Tommy wisely.
“Yes, I think so. But there was something else,” admitted the boy. “It wasn’t wholly conscience. We didn’t realize how very wrong it was until——”
“Until the Oracle told you,” nodded Tommy.
“What!” exclaimed George. The eyes of the Tramp Club were fixed on Tommy. “What do you mean by that?”
Harriet got up and with crossed hands before her, chin lowered, eyelids half veiling her eyes, moved demurely toward the captain.
“Cross my palm with silver and the past and future shall be revealed to you,” she mumbled.
George Baker gazed at her, with suspicious, puzzled eyes. All at once he sprang up.
“I know you now! I knew I had seen you before, but I couldn’t place you. You were the Star of the East!”
“Yes,” admitted Harriet.
“And thhe told your fortune,” chuckled Tommy.
Margery and Hazel giggled. Crazy Jane exclaimed derisively:
“Oh, boys, boys! That’s the time you got your desserts! We paid you back with interest!”
“It was a mean trick,” flared George. “We never would have thought it of you. It was the meanest trick I ever heard of. I’m sorry I made a fool of myself by coming here and apologizing to you.”
“Mr. Baker, don’t lose your temper,” begged Miss Elting, scarcely able to control her voice for laughter. “We have evened our score so let’s shake hands and be friends.”
“No, thank you. I’m sorry to refuse, but you have made fools of us,” retorted George angrily.
“Oh, no. That ith not pothible,” piped Tommy.
“Come on, fellows. We will get out of here before they make us angry,” urged Captain Baker, snatching up his hat and starting away.
“Please wait,” begged Miss Elting.
George shook his head.
“What about our compact?” called Harriet.
“We’re going on and win the race. We’ll show you that you aren’t such athletes as you think. At least you shan’t make fools of us at that. Good night.”
Captain Baker and his friends strode angrily from the camp. They did not so much as look back. Perhaps the boys were really not so angry as they pretended to be.
“It’s too bad. I didn’t think they would take it that way,” cried Harriet. “I surely thought they would be able to take a joke. Well, what’s done can’t be undone. There’s nothing more to be done except to go on and try to win the race.”
Jane had disappeared. Where she had gone the girls did not know. It was some time before she returned and when she did she was excited. Her hair was awry and her face flushed.
“Jane, where have you been?” demanded the guardian.
“I’ve been scouting. Girls, those miserable boys are planning to play another trick on you. They’re going to start to-night and go on without stopping until they get home. What shall we do?”
The girls gazed solemnly into each other’s eyes.
“That seems to settle it,” spoke up Margery finally. “Well, let them have the race. Who cares?”
“We all care,” answered Harriet, springing to her feet. “We simply must win that race now. Everybody will laugh at us if we don’t, and I just couldn’t stand it to see those boys grinning triumphantly at us afterwards. I don’t care so much about the others.”
“What would you suggest, Harriet?” inquired Miss Elting.
“Suggest? Why, there is only one thing to suggest. Checkmate them at their own game. We’ll start for Meadow-Brook this very night and we’ll keep going until we get there. Are you with me, girls?”
“Yes!” shouted the girls.
“Not quite so fast, girls,” warned Miss Elting.
They turned toward her questioningly. Their eyes were sparkling, their faces flushed.
“What would you suggest, Miss Elting?” asked Harriet.
“Remember, that, if we take the route suggested by the Gipsy, we shall have to travel some of the roughest country in the state. Are you equal to the hike?”
“Yes!”
“We shall have to walk all night and a good part of the day to-morrow, and even then the boys may win the contest. Are you willing to try it?”
“Yes!”
“Then we will make our plans and get started. According to my calculations, it will be a twenty mile hike to Meadow-Brook by the way we propose to go. The boys will have a good ten miles further to travel if they go by way of the road. But having better going they will naturally travel much faster than we. Listen! We must travel light, with nothing in our packs except just sufficient food to carry us through. Jane, you will have to spend the night at the nearest farm house and come back for the tent and supplies in the morning. I hardly believe any one will disturb them over night. You must go at once or the people of the house will have retired. Go quietly.”
Ten minutes later Jane was on her way to the farm house in her car, undetected by the members of the Tramp Club.
“Now we will get ready at once. Let us becertain that none of the boys are watching. I would suggest that you girls lie down for an hour or so, while Harriet and myself get the packs together.”
Hazel obediently led the way into the tent, Margery and Tommy following.
“I can’t thleep. I’m too exthited,” protested Tommy. She and her companions did sleep however. They were allowed to rest for two hours. When they awakened Harriet informed them that the Tramp Club already had started. Half an hour later the girls themselves had taken the trail to Meadow-Brook.
The Pathfinders made straight for a blue range of mountains that stood out dark and forbidding in the bright moonlight. The girls were full of enthusiasm, and would have walked much faster had not their guardian insisted on their saving their strength for the more difficult traveling after they reached the hills.
It was three o’clock in the morning when finally they dropped down a sharp incline into the gloomy depths of a rocky canyon. A trickling stream flowed through the canyon and the walls stood high on either side, rising sheer for a hundred feet.
“You will have to wade, girls. But I think we are all sufficiently hardened so that we shall not suffer more than temporary discomfortfrom getting our feet wet,” said the guardian, with an encouraging smile.
The girls plunged into the brook without hesitation. The water was only ankle deep, but the stones on the bottom of the creek were moss-covered and slippery. Still, they made good progress, really traveling faster than before they had entered the canyon.
At daylight Miss Elting called a halt. She had chosen a place where a dry shelf of rock offered a resting place. The girls threw themselves down flat on their backs. There was no wood with which to build a fire, but Miss Elting produced a small alcohol stove from her pack and made coffee. This with biscuits they had brought proved very refreshing. The guardian did not permit them to remain on the shelf of rock for a long time, fearing that their muscles might become stiffened. Then the journey was taken up again. So full of enthusiasm and determination were the Meadow-Brook Girls that not one of them offered a word of complaint; but when at two o’clock that afternoon, they emerged from the canyon into the open country, Tommy and Margery were limping a little.
Beyond in the haze of a distant valley lay Meadow-Brook. The girls eager to get to their journey’s end pushed on again. After half an hour’s walking, Miss Elting called a halt. Sheshaded her eyes and gazed off to the west. A thin brown line was crawling slowly along the road.
“It’s the boys!” cried Harriet.
“They’re going to win,” groaned Margery.
“They are not. We must run for it.”
“Yes,” agreed Miss Elting. “But don’t get excited. Keep your lips tightly closed. Breathe through your nostrils and keep your shoulders well back. Don’t keep yourselves rigid, but just trudge along with every muscle relaxed. They don’t see us. Ready! Go!”
The girls crossed the field at a trot. It was a good two miles to the village. They ran slowly, but steadily. At the end of a mile the guardian again ordered a halt, directing the girls to lie down in the field flat on their backs. A few moments later they were up and off again. They saw the boys a long distance to the rear, still trudging doggedly along. And half an hour later the girls stepped from the field out into the road. They heard the chug of a motor car. It swept on and overtook them. It was Jane. She was howling like a wild Indian.
“They’re coming! They’re coming. Run for it!” she yelled.
By this time the boys had discovered the girls. They, too, began to run. The race was on in earnest. Never had those girls run andstumbled and lurched along as they did that afternoon. The boys gained slowly. The girls were nearing home. Jane was leading the procession, standing up in her car, steering as she stood, setting the pace for the Meadow-Brook Girls. She was shouting and yelling to keep up their courage, but it was an almost killing pace that she was making for them.
The girls staggered over the line that marked the village limits.
“Home!” cried Miss Elting.
“We’ve won!” screamed Jane almost beside herself with joy.
The girls walked unsteadily to one side of the road and sat down gasping. They had won the race, but by a slender margin. The boys were still forging ahead, running at top speed. They had thrown away their packs and were racing into the village in light order. Five minutes later a crowd of weary, humiliated boys came hurrying up to where the girls sat. They were much more fatigued than were their opponents, besides which, they were chagrined beyond words.
“Did we win?” jeered Jane triumphantly.
“Yes. You won,” admitted Captain Baker sourly. “I take off my hat to you.” He suited the action to the word. “You beat us at our own game. I don’t know how you did it, butyou did and that’s all there is about it, and we aren’t going to whine. We’ll take our medicine. We’re going to stay in town the rest of the day, and we’ll see you later on. Good-bye until to-night.”
The girls’ weariness left them almost magically. They hopped into Jane’s car and were swiftly whirled home. Later in the afternoon a box of marshmallows for each of the girls was delivered to Miss Elting. But the fun was not yet ended.
That night the Tramp Club and the Meadow-Brook Girls were the guests of Tommy Thompson’s father and mother at dinner. Tommy’s parents, as well as the parents of the other girls, were delighted with the splendid physical condition of their daughters. Before each girl’s plate at the table that stretched the length of the big dining room, was a box of marshmallows, before each boy’s plate a handkerchief.
The marshmallow boxes were tied with pink ribbon, the color chosen by the Meadow-Brook Girls for their organization.
“On Hallowe’en,” declared Dill Dodd solemnly, “you shall hear from the tramps again, and the message will have a bearing on the question of melons.”
Nor did Baker’s Tramp Club forget. Surely enough, on Hallowe’enHarriet received for herself and her friends two great, ripe, luscious watermelons with a most cordially worded note from the boys.
“We must see to it that the Tramp Club never do anything like this again,” said Miss Elting, as she and the Meadow-Brook Girls cut up and enjoyed the watermelons. “At this season of the year fruit of this kind comes only from hot houses and is very expensive. The boys, to show their contrition, have mortgaged their pocket money, I fear.”
Soon after their return the Meadow-Brook Girls entered upon the duties and pleasures of the new school year. We may be assured also that at the proper time, Miss Elting would see to it that the beads which the girls had won by their deeds of daring and other achievements during their recent trip, would be awarded. But we shall hear from them again.
They had ahead of them many happy days of outdoor life and adventure, as will be learned in the next volume of this series, which is published under the title, “The Meadow-Brook Girls Afloat; Or, The Stormy Cruise of the Red Rover.”