How Ethel Hollister Became a Campfire Girl Part 12

"It's unfortunate," replied Kate, "but perhaps it may turn up."

Poor Ethel took her walk with Patty and Mollie but she was very quiet.

That noon she watched a dinner cooked in the open. Two perpendicular stakes with forked ends had been driven in the ground, while lying horizontally across them was another upon which to hang one or more kettles. Each kettle had an iron hook to place on the cross stake, and from them hung the kettles. A roaring fire had been made. The potatoes were laid in the hot ashes and covered. In one kettle the peas were put.

Ethel and Mollie had sh.e.l.led until their fingers ached.

"Now, girls," said Kate, "someone time those peas. They must not cook longer than three-quarters of an hour, and they must not be covered."

When the salad had been prepared, the bread and b.u.t.ter spread, and the water pitchers filled from the brook it was time to cook the steak.

Four of the girls took forks made from tree branches, placed the steak upon them, and started in. Mollie and Nora in the meanwhile, after draining off nearly all of the water, had put some salt and a little sugar in the peas, adding at the last a large piece of b.u.t.ter, and had placed them in their kettle which stood near the potatoes.

The steak when finished was laid on a large platter and covered plentifully with b.u.t.ter. Then each girl took and opened her potato, and what a potato it was!--so unlike those cooked in an oven. The peas were served in saucers, and the sight of the steak covered with gravy--hot and juicy--made them hungry.

Each sat on the ground with her plate on her lap, and her saucer and gla.s.s beside her. They ate up every vestige of food.

"Goodnight!" said Nora. "Shure a dog would starve in this crowd."

After an appetizing salad dressed with a suspicion of garlic and a fine French dressing, came the bread pudding made by Sallie Davis. It was filled with raisins and each girl pa.s.sed her plate twice.

"Ethel, what do you think of our Camp Fire dinner?" asked Kate.

"It is simply fine," replied the girl. "I have never tasted one half so good."

"Poor Ethel, she is unhappy over her ring," said Edna, "and I don't blame her. Cheer up! it may be found yet," she added.

But Ethel was unhappy, not for the loss of the ring, but because it had belonged to old Mrs. Hollister.

"I never should have brought it," she said to Kate. "I should have left it with Aunt Susan. I know it was right on the box when I left the tent, and it's so unpleasant," she confided to Kate. "One suspects everyone."

"Yes, that's the unfortunate part of it," replied her cousin. "The innocent suffer for the guilty; that is, if it has been taken by anyone, but I have an idea that it may have been thrown out with the water."

Ethel studied hard every day. She learned rapidly and one night she received her first bead. She had learned how to row a boat and she rowed well. In five days she had rowed twenty miles, which ent.i.tled her to one honor. Before the next two weeks she had learned how to swim; and she swam one mile in five days. The rule was to swim one mile in six days, but she went one better; so at one of the council fires she received her two beads. As her honors came under "health craft" her beads were red.

Her ceremonial gown had been made for some time. She had worked on it during rainy days, and when she had finished behold! it was perfect.

"Why, you're ent.i.tled to another honor. This comes under 'hand craft,'"

said Patty.

So now she had won three--two red beads and one of green.

"That's good work," e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Nora Casey. "She'll outstrip us all."

Of course each girl won daily. Some had strings nearly half a yard long.

At every council fire the Guardian would distribute them to the girls, but Sallie Davis had the most beads. She was clever and won many for cooking.

About the middle of July there came another set of Camp Fires. They occupied the woods about half a mile away. It seemed that the Guardian--a Miss Andrews--was a schoolmate of Kate Hollister's. They were called the "Columbus Camp Fires." The girls were friendly and together they had great sport.

CHAPTER XXVII

A DISCOVERY

One morning Patty and Ethel started for a walk. They were to climb a small mountain. On their way they came across a pocket handkerchief. It was a girl's handkerchief, and on it was the initial "H."

"This isn't Cousin's Kate's I know," said Ethel. "She carried one certain kind with a tiny 'H' worked in the corner. This looks like a cheap one that might be purchased for a dime. Whose can it be? Are there any 'H's' in the Columbus Camp Fires?"

They recalled every name--not an "H."

"Then as it isn't Kate's nor mine it must belong to Mattie Hastings."

"Yes," replied Patty. "She often walks up here alone."

"I wish I could get over my feeling of dislike for that girl," said Ethel, "but I can not. It grows on me. I shall be glad to go home to get rid of looking at her. I can never like Nora Casey either, although I have tried very hard. But I positively shrink from that girl. I don't trust her."

"I feel the same, and so do all the girls," replied Patty, "but she seems to have gotten around Miss Hollister. She is invariably hanging on her."

"Cousin Kate is so kind and good-hearted," said Ethel. "She's always ready to make the best of people, but I feel like pulling Mattie Hastings away when I see her around here."

"Look--quick! speak of angels--that was she looking out through those trees," exclaimed Patty. "Now I wonder what she is doing up here and alone. My! but it's warm in the sun, isn't it?" and Patty opened the neck of her waist and removed her hat. "Let's call and see if she answers us."

So Patty Sands called loudly:

"Mattie Hastings--Mattie--we have seen you--don't hide!"

Someone started to run through the brush. They heard a fall and a piercing shriek.

"She's tripped," said Ethel. "Let's go and see."

Quickly they picked their way over fallen trees and dead leaves until they came to the prostrate body of Mattie whom they so disliked.

"What have you done?" asked Patty. "Have you hurt yourself?"

No answer.

"She's fainted!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Ethel. "She's been walking in the sun and exposed to great heat. It's heat exhaustion. See, her face is pale and she isn't entirely unconscious as in a sunstroke. First we must loosen her clothing and let her lie down quietly. I wonder if there is any water about."

"Yes," said Patty, "we pa.s.sed a watering trough on the road."

While Ethel unb.u.t.toned the girl's waist, Patty ran for water.

"It's lucky I have my drinking cup with me," she called. "I have a long head. I never take a walk without it."

Ethel made no reply. She unhooked the girl's corset. Then when Patty returned, together they lifted her to a shady place. Ethel's face was pale.