“There it is! I see it!” rang out Sarah Manning’s triumphant cry, as she pointed excitedly to a glimmer of white among the thick growth of spruce trees. “I saw it first! Hurrah for me!”
Sarah’s modest proposal fell on deaf ears. For the past five minutes, the load of cheery adventurers who packed the big buckboard wagon had been keeping a vigilant watch on the narrow road ahead. Perched in state beside the driver, Sarah had forestalled them by the merest second. Her last words mingled unheard with the gleeful shout that rent the still woodland air. The driver of the buckboard, a long, lean native of Tower, grinned indulgently as the shout assailed his ears. “Ye’ll hev to git out here, lady,” he informed Miss Drexal over one shoulder as he brought his horses to a gradual standstill. “I can’t drive no nearer your camp than this. It ain’t but a step to it.”
“Very well.” Before he had accomplished a leisurely descent from the wagon, his lively freight was already piling out over its sides. After ten miles of travel over a rough corduroy road in a swaying buckboard, the end of the journey was most welcome. Despite the wild beauty of the country through which they had been riding, the thought of reaching camp had overtopped all else. The very fact that they were presently to come upon the forest home already prepared for them by their Indian guide, had kept the whole party in a flutter of eager anticipation from their very start from Tower.
“Oh, there’s Blue Wolf! Hoo-oo!” Ruth’s clear halloo, accompanied by a wild flourish of her arm, created a ripple of laughter. Drawn up in a group beside the road, the girls stood impatiently waiting for Miss Drexal, who was still busy talking to the driver.
“Oh, see!” gasped Jane. “He actually waved his hand to you, Ruth! He’s not so wooden as he seems. Here he comes. He looks too fierce for comfort, though. You’d think him a regular savage scalp hunter on the war path.”
“Shh!” warned Frances. “Don’t laugh, girls, or he will think you are making fun of him. Indians are awfully touchy.”
This bit of caution chased away the smiles evoked by Jane’s criticism. By the time Blue Wolf reached them, they were ready to greet him with due solemnity.
“Camp him ready,” he remarked after he had gravely shaken hands all around. “Heap nice place.” His bright eyes fixed themselves on Ruth, as though he were seeking her especial approval.
“I am sure it is,” Ruth smiled winningly. “You must have worked very hard to get the tents up and everything in shape for us.”
“I work,” admitted Blue Wolf.
Having finished her business with the driver, who had already begun backing his horses, preparatory to turning back to Tower, Miss Drexal now joined the group, greeting the Indian in kindly fashion.
“You come now, see camp,” he invited after she had asked him a question or two. Striding ahead, he led the campers across a few yards of ground, well covered with trees and bushes, to a little natural clearing where two good-sized tents stood out whitely against the tall spruces and tamaracks that surrounded them on all sides.
“But where’s Vermilion Lake?” cried out Emmy wonderingly, as they came to a halt in front of the tents.
“Over there. No very far. No can see him. Too much tree.” Blue Wolf indicated the location of the lake with a sweep of his hand. “To-morrow, I take you see him.”
“To-morrow will be time enough,” declared Miss Drexal. “It is after four o’clock now. Remember, we are going to gather the boughs for our beds. After that is done and we have made them, it will be supper time. First of all, we must arrange about our tent quarters. How shall we divide the party? There will be five of us to each tent. We will put the trunk of clothing in one tent and the box of kitchen utensils in the other. When the weather is good, we will eat our meals in the open. When it rains, we shall have to use one of the tents.”
“As long as we are a just and equitable band, I don’t see that it makes much difference how we are divided,” laughed Marian.
The others instantly agreeing with her, Miss Drexal proposed that Jane, Frances, Sarah, Betty and Anne take one tent, leaving Ruth, Emmy, Marian, Blanche and herself to occupy the other. “Blue Wolf tells me that he has built himself a little shack of bark halfway between here and the lake. At night, he will be within easy reach of us if we should call out, and also be near the canoes,” she explained. “Now, girls, suppose we take possession at once. Leave your packs in your tents, and let us get to work on our beds. The sooner they are made, the earlier we can have supper.”
“I could eat it right now,” sighed Sarah. “I’m almost starved.”
The long ride in the bracing air having had a similar effect on her companions, the girls hastened to obey Miss Drexal’s directions. Fifteen minutes later, they were following the Indian’s tireless feet through the woods on a hunt for the necessary materials for their makeshift couches. They had not traveled far when they stumbled upon a pleasant surprise. With the nearest approach to a grin that his somber features would permit, Blue Wolf stopped beside two huge heaps of fragrant green pine and balsam boughs, which it had taken him the greater part of the morning to secure.
“Plenty bed here,” he announced, a note of grim pride in his voice at his own achievement.
“I should say so,” chuckled Frances. “There’s enough stuff on these two piles for twenty beds. Talk about your busy little workers,” she added under her breath to Ruth, “Blue Wolf is the star of them all.”
Amid exclamations of gratified delight, the foresters pounced avidly upon the fruits of the Indian’s labor. Under his direction, they first piled their arms with the spicy boughs and set off for the tents in high spirits. Prior to their arrival, Blue Wolf had already laid the foundations in the tents for the bough beds. These consisted of five inch tree trunks about six feet in length. Each set of two had been laid parallel about four feet apart. They ranged two on a side with only a foot’s space between them, with one pair of logs at the back.
The art of building a bough bed was not an unfamiliar one to the Equitable Eight. They had mastered it the previous summer when they had camped for a week in the Catskills. They, therefore, set to work with a will, breaking off the boughs to a suitable length and sticking them into the soft earth, tops uppermost and as close together as possible. The result of this process was a series of fragrant green mounds. On top of these more boughs were placed, so carefully as to allow no sharp ends to stand up. Covered by heavy blankets, folded double, they became couches that were not only comfortable, but also sturdy enough to warrant no breakdown.
Of the ten toilers, Blanche Shirly was the only one who failed to do herself credit. She made a half-hearted attempt to follow Miss Drexal’s instructions, then slumped in the middle of her task and looked helplessly on while Marian and Anne, their own work completed, good-naturedly rallied to her assistance and completed her bed for her.
Aside from the beds, the tents held nothing in the way of furniture except the trunk, a huge box for food supplies, and the box of kitchen things. Blue Wolf had thoughtfully pounded nails into the lower ridge plate of the tents. On some of these the girls hung their packs, reserving others on which to hang their clothing at night. They were wholly content with their quarters, however. It quite accorded with their ideas of living the primitive life. All except Blanche, of course. She was inwardly wondering how she could manage to endure such discomfort. She was also a wee bit abashed at her own helplessness. It galled her to have to appear so entirely out of her element. Yet her grudge against Ruth still forbade her to show the least inclination toward a usefulness which Ruth might note and approve.
Their beds made, Emmy, Ruth and Marian devoted themselves to building a low fire in which to roast potatoes. Miss Drexal and Anne commenced a businesslike unpacking of cooking utensils. Sarah, Jane and Frances delved among the supplies with much playful squabbling. To Betty fell the work of selecting a level spot on which to lay the tablecloth, and decking it with the necessary, but limited amount of dishes and cutlery. To her had also been entrusted the coffee-making. Blue Wolf had already set off for a nearby spring with the two water pails. Blanche alone found nothing to do. After wandering aimlessly about without offering to help anyone, she retired disgustedly to the tent and lay down on her bed, anxiously waiting to be called to supper. Whatever might be her failings, lack of appetite was not one of them.
Due to the length of time it had taken to get supper nicely started, it was after six o’clock when the hungry band seated themselves Turk fashion on the ground about the sylvan board, and hungrily devoured a supper of white bread, roasted potatoes, crisp bacon, steaming coffee, canned beans, warmed over, with canned peaches and fancy crackers by way of dessert.
“What are we going to do when our bread gives out?” asked Sarah, ............