The in the Woods Part 3 (2/2)
All Hedgeville, as she well knew, must know that this camp of girls was at the lake -- and it would be just like Jake and some of the bullying, reckless crowd of boys that he made his chief friends, to think that it would be a fine joke to play some tricks on the sleeping camp, and alarm these girls who were trying to enjoy themselves with outdoor life, just as if they had been boys. Bessie, setting her teeth, determined that they shouldn't succeed, that in some fas.h.i.+on she would turn the joke on them.
Gradually she drew nearer to the sound, and she made up her mind, thankfully, that she had waked in time, before all the jokers had arrived. She had s.n.a.t.c.hed up a sheet as she left the camp, without a clear idea of what she meant to do with it, but now, as she stole among the trees, a dim figure, flitting from one dark place to the next, a wild idea formed in her mind.
It was risky -- but Bessie was not timid. If Jake Hoover caught her -- well, she knew what that would mean. He would not spare her, as his father had done, and there would be trouble for her, and for Zara and, worst of all, for Wanaka and her other new friends. And there was another danger. It might not, after all, be Jake Hoover that she heard.
At the Hoovers' she had heard stories of tramps and wandering gypsies, and she had been warned, whenever there was a report that any such vagrants were about, to keep off the roads and stay near the house. Jake, after all, could only betray her to his mother and the others who were after her, but a tramp or a gypsy might do far worse than that. But, though the solitude and darkness were enough to frighten people older and stronger than Bessie, she kept on. And at last, before her, she heard footsteps tramping down the dry leaves and branches, and she heard a murmur of voices, too.
At once part of her fears fled, for it was Jake Hoover's voice that came to her ears.
”Ha-ha!” he was laughing. ”Gee it took you fellers long enough to git here. But, say, boys, won't we have some fun with them girls? Actin' up just like they was boys, sleepin' out in the woods an' pretendin' they're as brave as anythin'. I saw that one that bought a lot of truck from Paw to-day. Bet she'll scream as loud as any of them.”
”Bet she will,” said another voice. ”Say, Jake, we won't hurt 'em none, will we? Jest throw a scare into them, like?”
”Sure, that's all!”
”'Cause I wouldn't want to hurt 'em none. They're jest girls, after all.”
”All we'll do will be just to get around them tents an' start yellin' all at once -- an' I'll bet they'll come a-runnin'. Ha-ha!”
But the laugh was frozen on his lips. As he spoke he looked behind him, warned by a faint sound -- and his hair rose. For waving its arms wildly, a figure, all in white, was running toward him. As it came it made strange, unearthly sounds -- horrid noises, such as Jake had never heard.
For a moment Jake and the two boys with him stood rooted to the spot, paralyzed with fear. Then they yelled together, and, the sound of their own voices seeming to release their imprisoned feet, turned and ran wildly, not knowing where they were going.
They tripped over roots, fell, then stumbled to their feet again, and continued their flight, shrieking. And behind them the ghost, weak with laughter, collapsed on a fallen tree trunk and laughed silently as they fled -- for the ghost that had frightened these bold raiders was only Bessie, wrapped in the sheet she had so luckily s.n.a.t.c.hed up when they had given her the alarm.
CHAPTER VI.
A PIECE OF BAD LUCK.
Bessie laughed until she cried as the bold raiders who had been so sure that they could scare the camp of girls dashed madly off. She could hear them long after they had vanished from sight, crying out in their fear, plunging among the trees, but gradually the sounds grew fainter, and Bessie, sure that they need fear no more disturbance from Jake Hoover and his brave companions, set out on her return to the camp. This time she had no need of the precautions she had taken as she crept in the direction of the disturbing sounds, and she made no effort to conceal herself.
Wanaka was outside, looking about anxiously, when Bessie came again into the firelight. Always a light sleeper, and especially so when she was responsible for the safety of the girls who were in her charge, Eleanor Mercer had waked at the first of Bessie's terrifying shrieks, almost as frightened, for the moment, as Jake himself. She had risen at once, and a glance in the various tents, where the girls still lay sound asleep, showed her that Bessie alone was missing.
Naturally enough, she could not guess the meaning of the outcry. The cries of the frightened jokers puzzled her, and there was nothing about the din that Bessie made to enable the Guardian to recognize the voice of her newest recruit. But she had realized, too, that to go out in the woods in search of Bessie and of an explanation, was not likely to do much good. Her duty, too, was with the girls who remained, and she could only wait, wondering. She greeted Bessie with a glad cry when she saw her.
”Oh, I'm so glad!” she exclaimed. ”But what are you doing with that sheet? And -- why, you're crying!”
”I'm not -- really,” said Bessie. ”But I laughed so hard that it made the tears come -- that's all, Wanaka.”
Then she told her story, and Wanaka had to laugh too. She was greatly relieved.
”But you ought to have called me, Bessie,” she said. ”That's why I'm here, you know -- to look out for things when there seems to be any danger, or anything you girls don't quite understand.”
”But I wasn't quite sure, you see,” said Bessie. ”And if it had really been a bird, it would have been awfully foolish to wake everyone up just because I thought I heard something.”
”You'll be able to win a lot of honors easily, Bessie, when you come into the Camp Fire. That's one of the things the girls do -- they learn the calls of the birds, and to describe them and all sorts of things about the trees and the flowers. You must know a lot of them already.”
”I guess everyone does who's lived in the country. Some people can imitate a bird so it would almost fool another bird -- but not Jake. He's stupid.”
”Yes, and like most people who try to frighten others, he's a coward, too, Bessie. He showed that to-night.”
”I'm not afraid of him any more. If I'd known before how easy it was to frighten him I'd have done it. Then he'd have let me alone, probably.”
”Well, you go to bed now, and get to sleep again. And try to forget about Jake and all the other people who have been unkind to you. Remember that you're safe with us now. We'll look after you.”
”I know that, and I can't tell you how good it makes me feel.”
Wanaka laughed then, to herself.
”I say we'll look after you,” she said, still smiling. ”But so far it looks more as if you were going to look after us. You saved Minnehaha in the lake -- and to-night you saved all the girls from being frightened. But we'll have to begin doing our share before long.”
”As if you hadn't done a lot more for me already then I'll ever be able to repay!” said Bessie. ”And I know it, too. Please be sure of that. Good-night.”
”Good-night, Bessie.”
In the morning Bessie and Zara woke with the sun s.h.i.+ning in their faces, and for a long minute they lay quiet, staring out at the dancing water, and trying to realize all that happened since they had said good-bye to Hedgeville.
”Just think, Zara, it's only the day before yesterday that all those things happened, and it seems like ever so long to me.”
”It does to me, too, Bessie. But I'll be glad when we get away from here. It's awfully close.”
”And, Zara, Jake Hoover was around here last night!”
”Does he know you're here? Was that why he came?”
”No,” said Bessie, laughing again at the memory of the ghost. And she told Zara what had happened.
”He won't come around again at night, but it would be just like him to snoop around here in the daytime, Bessie.”
”I hadn't thought of that, Zara. But he might. If he stops to think and realizes that someone turned his own trick against him, or if he tells someone, and they laugh at him, he'll want to get even. I'd certainly hate to have him see one of us.”
But their fears were groundless. For, as soon as breakfast was over, Wanaka called all the girls together.
”We're going to move,” she said. ”I know we meant to stay here longer, but Bessie and Zara will be happier if we're somewhere else. So we will go on to-day, instead of waiting. And I've a pleasant surprise for you, too, I think. No, I won't tell you about it now. You'll have to wait until you see it. Hurry up and clean camp now, and begin packing. We want to start as soon as we can.”
Bessie was amazed to see how complete the arrangements for packing were. Everything seemed to have its place, and to be so made that it could go into the smallest s.p.a.ce imaginable. The tents were taken down, divided into single sections that were not at all heavy, and everything else had been made on the same plan.
”But how about the canoes?” asked Bessie. ”We can't carry those with us, can we?”
”I've often carried one over a portage -- a short walk from one lake to the next in the woods,” said Minnehaha, laughing. ”It's a lot easier than it looks. Once you get it on your back, it balances so easily that it isn't hard at all. And up in the woods the guides have boats that they carry that way for miles, and they say they're easier to handle than a heavy pack. But these boats are very light.”
”But we'll leave them here, anyhow,” said another girl. ”They don't belong to us. They were just lent to us by some people from the city who come here to camp every summer. They own this land, too, and they let us use it.”
And then Bessie saw, as the first canoe was brought in, the clever hiding-place that had been devised for the boats. They were dragged up, and carried into the woods a little way, and there a couple of fallen trees had been so arranged that they made a shelter for the canoes. A few boards were spread between the trunks, and covered with earth and branches so it seemed that shrubbery had grown up over the place where the canoes lay.
<script>