Wyn's Camping Days: or, The Outing of the Go-Ahead Club

Marlowe Amy Bell

Wyn's Camping Days Or The Outing of the Go-Ahead Club

CHAPTER I

THE GO-AHEAD CLUB

“Oh, girls! such news!” cried Wynifred Mallory, banging open the door of Canoe Lodge, and bringing into the living room a big breath of the cool May air, which drew out of the open fireplace a sudden balloon of smoke, setting the other members of the Go-Ahead Club there assembled coughing.

Grace Hedges, who was acting as fireman that week, turned an exasperated face, with a bar of smut across it, exclaiming:

“If another soul comes in that door and creates a back-draught until this fire gets to burning properly, I certainly shall have hysterics! I never did see such a mean old thing to burn.”

“Never mind, Gracie. We’re all here now–all six of us. There are no more Go-Aheads to come,” observed Bessie Lavine, yawning over her book in the only sunny corner of the room.

“There! it’s burning–finally,” exclaimed Grace, with blended disgust and thankfulness. “I never was cut out for a fireman, girls.”

“Poor Gracie,” purred Wyn, who had approached the blaze that was now beginning to curl through the hickory sticks piled more or less scientifically against the backlog. “Don’t you know it needed just that back-draught to break the deadlock in the chimney and start your fire crackling this way?”

“Bah! it was just hateful,” grumbled Grace. “I hate fire making. And it does seem as though my week for playing fireman comes around twice as often as it should.” Wyn had moved rather too near to the darting flames, and Grace suddenly pulled the captain of the club aside. “Don’t stand so near, Silly!” she cried.

“Fireman! save my che-ild!” wailed “Frank” Cameron, coming forward and winding her long arms around Wynifred. “What’s the news, Wyn, dear? Nobody had the politeness to ask you. Wherefore all the excitement?”

“There must be a strike at the blacksmith shop,” said Percy Havel, a curly-headed blonde girl.

“No!” cried Frank, with a droll twist of her rather homely features. “I’ll wager they’ve laid off one of the hands of the town clock. Business is dreadfully dull. I heard my father say so.”

She was a tall, lanky girl, was Frances Cameron, with a great mass of blue-black hair and flashing black eyes. She was thin, strong, and lacking in those soft curves of budding womanhood which girls of her age usually display. “Straight up and down, my dears,” she often said. “Built upon the most approved clothespin plan, with every bone perfectly–not to say generously–developed.”

“Well,” said Wyn, laughing, “if you girls will give me a chance I will divulge my news.”

“Be still!” commanded Frank. “The oracle speaks.”

“Oh, hurry up, Wyn!” exclaimed Percy, coming nearer the group before the now roaring fire. “I’ve been dying to tell them.”

“Well, girls,” said Wyn, smiling, so that her brown eyes fairly danced. “Mrs. Havel–Percy’s aunt–says she will go.”

“Fine!” exclaimed Frankie.

“You don’t mean it, Wyn?” gasped Mina Everett. “Then we really can go camping?”

“And to Lake Honotonka?” put in Bessie.

“That’s what we aimed to do; wasn’t it?” demanded Wyn, laughing. “And when the Go-Ahead Club starts to do a thing, it usually arrives; doesn’t it?”

“At least, the captain arrives for them,” said Frank, giving Wyn’s arm a little squeeze. “We wouldn’t get far in our ‘go-ahead’ plans if it wasn’t for you, Wynnie.”

“Such flattery!” protested the captain.

“You didn’t have an easy time convincing my mother–I know that,” said Mina, shaking her head. “You know, she’s so afraid of water.”

“And my mother is afraid of high winds,” confessed Bessie. “Wyn had to coax to bring her around.”

“And of course, Gracie’s mother is afraid of fire,” chuckled Frank; “and there you have the three elements. You can plainly see that Gracie knows very little about fire. She never built one in her life until we formed our camping club.”

“Oh, well,” observed Grace, trying to rub the smut off her face with a handkerchief and the aid of a pocket-mirror, “this is about the end of the fire season, thank goodness! If we go into camp after school closes, on Lake Honotonka, there won’t be any fires to build.”

“Oh, won’t there?” cried Bessie. “You just wait. Instead of taking turns at being fireman for the week, as we do through the winter, we’ll draw lots to see who shall build all the fires. And you know very well, Gracie, that you always are unlucky.”

“Sure she is,” agreed Frank. “She always draws the very boobiest of all booby prizes out of the grab-bag.”

“Oh, dear me!” wailed Grace, who was big, and handsome, and not a little lazy, “I do so hate to work, too. If there had been another set of girls I liked at Denton Academy, I’d never have joined the Go-Ahead Club.”

“Right. Gracie is better fitted for a Fall-Behind Club,” observed Wyn.

“But tell us, Wynnie,” begged Mina. “Is it really all arranged? Has everybody agreed that we can go in our canoes to Lake Honotonka?”

“And stay all vacation if we like?” cried Percy.

“That is the understanding,” Wyn assured them. “Percy’s aunt is the very kindest lady who ever was – ”

“Vote we buy her something nice,” interposed Frank.

“That will come in due season,” Wyn continued. “But Mrs. Havel went with me to all our people. She knows all about the place, of course – ”

“So does my father,” interposed Bessie.

“And he wasn’t hard to convince,” Wyn responded. “Of course, there are wild nooks along Honotonka’s shores; but at the upper end is Braisely Park, where all those rich folks live; and there’s the village of Meade’s Forge at this end of the lake. We can get supplies, or a doctor, or send a telephone message, easily enough. And what more does one want–camping out?”

“We’ll have just a lovely time!” sighed Bessie. “I can hardly wait for school to close.”

“A month and a half yet,” said Frank Cameron. “And every day will seem longer than the one that preceded it. But then! when it does come – ”

“Just think of living under canvas–and for weeks and weeks! It almost makes me feel spooky,” declared Grace, beginning to grow enthusiastic.

These girls, all attending Denton Academy and living within the limits of that town, being the daughters of fairly well-to-do parents, had been able to enjoy many advantages as well as pleasures that poorer girls could not have; but none of them had chanced to experience the joys of a vacation in the woods.

During the preceding autumn they had become immensely interested in canoeing. Denton was situated upon the beautiful, winding Wintinooski, and the six members of the Go-Ahead Club had taken several Saturday cruises on the river. But never had they gone as far up the stream as Lake Honotonka.

That was a wide and beautiful sheet of water, thirty-five miles to the west of the town of Denton. Their boy friends had sometimes been allowed to go camping upon the shores of the lake; and their enthusiastic praise of the fun to be had under canvas had set Wynifred Mallory and her chums “just wild,” as Frank Cameron expressed it, to try it too.

Wyn was a girl of determination and physical as well as moral courage. If she made up her mind that a thing was right, and she wanted it, she usually got it.

When the girls first broached their desire to spend the summer at the big lake, and actually live under canvas, not one of their parents encouraged the idea. Because the “Busters,” a certain boys’ club of the girls’ friends, were going to the lake again for the long vacation, made no difference to the mothers and fathers–especially the mothers of Wyn and her chums of the Go-Ahead Club.

“It’s no use,” Bessie Lavine had reported, at their first meeting after the idea was born in Canoe Lodge, as the girls called their novel boathouse overhanging the bank of a quiet pool of the Wintinooski. “Even father won’t hear of it. Six girls going alone into the wilds – ”

“But the Busters and Professor Skillings will be near our camp,” Frank had cried. “That’s what I told mother. But she couldn’t see it.”

Wyn had listened at that meeting to the opinions of all the other girls–and to their hopeless and disappointed complaints as well–and then she had taken the whole burden on her own shoulders.

“Don’t you say another word at home about it, girls–any of you,” she said. “Leave it to me. Our idea of living for the summer in the open is a good one. We’ll come back to school in the fall with ginger and health enough to keep us going like dynamos during the next school year.”

“But you can’t make my mother see that,” wailed Percy. “She only sees the snakes, and mosquitoes, and tramps, and big winds, and drowning, and I don’t know but she visualizes earthquake shocks and volcanoes!”

“Give me a chance,” said Wyn.

“Voted!” Frankie declared. “When Wyn sets out to do a thing we might as well give her her head. She’s like Davy Crockett; and I hope all our folks will come down without being shot, like the historic ’coon.”

And this present declaration of their captain, which had so aroused the Go-Ahead Club, was the result of Wyn Mallory’s exertions.

She had first obtained the interest and cooperation of Percy’s Aunt Evelyn, who was a widowed lady fond of outdoor life herself. Mrs. Havel was to act as chaperone. With this addition to their forces, the girls stood a much better chance to win over their parents to their plan.

And finally Wyn had gained the permission of the most obdurate parent. The cruise of the Go-Ahead Club in their canoes to Lake Honotonka, and their camping for the summer at some available spot along the lake shore, was decided upon.

“And are the Busters going?” asked Frank. “That’s the next important matter.”

“Oh, we can get along without those boys, I guess,” scoffed Bessie.

“Yes, I know. We don’t need ’em. And they are a great nuisance sometimes,” admitted Frank, laughing. “But just the same, we’ll have lots more fun with them around–especially Dave Shepard–eh, Wynnie?”

“I don’t see that you need me to witness the truth of your statement, Frank,” returned Wyn, flushing very prettily, for the girls sometimes teased her about Dave, who was her next-door neighbor. “Of course we want the boys, even if Bess is a man-hater.”

“I guess they’ll go,” Frank said. “They liked it so much last year. And the professor is interested in the geological specimens to be found up that way.”

“Goodness!” exclaimed Mina. “Is Professor Skillings going with them again? He is so odd.”

“He’s very absent-minded,” said Bessie.

Frank began to laugh again. “Say!” she began, “did you hear about what happened to him last week? Father met him coming down Lane Street–you know, it’s narrow and the sidewalk in places is scarcely wide enough for two people to pass comfortably.

“There was poor Professor Skillings hobbling along with one foot continually in the gutter, his eyes fixed on a book he was reading as he walked. Father said to him:

“‘Good morning, Professor! How are you feeling to-day?’

“‘Why–why–why!’ exclaimed the professor–you know his funny way of speaking. ‘Why–why–why–I was very well when I started out, I thought. But I don’t know what’s come over me. Do you know, I’ve developed a pronounced limp since leaving the house!’”

“Well, the boys like him,” Wyn said, when the girls’ laughter had subsided.

“I thought I saw Dave Shepard and that ‘Tubby’ Blaisdell around here when I hurried down from school to light the fire,” remarked Grace.

At that moment a strange, scraping sound was heard right above the girls’ heads. Bess and Mina jumped up.

“What’s that?” cried Grace.

“It’s something on the roof,” declared Wyn.

Now, Canoe Lodge was built on a high bank over the river. One stepped from the level sward into the living room. The roof on one side was a short, sharp pitch; but over the river it ran out in a long, easy slope to shelter the canoe landing.

Suddenly there was a crash, and the very house shook. There was a wheezy shout of alarm, the sound of another voice in wild laughter, and some heavy body slid down the long side of the roof with the noise of an avalanche.

“The Busters!” shrieked Percy, and ran to a window overlooking the river.

CHAPTER II

THE BUSTERS

The girls could overlook the lower slope of the long roof through the bay window at the end of the living room. They crowded to it after Percy Havel, and beheld a most amazing as well as ridiculous sight.

A very fat youth, in a blue and white striped sweater and with a closely-cropped yellow head, was face down upon a length of plank, which plank was sliding like a bobsled down the incline of green-stained shingles.

“It’s Tubby!” gasped Frank Cameron.

“Oh! oh! oh!” squealed Mina. “Is he doing that for fun?”

Before any further comment could be made, the boy on the plank shot out over the edge of the roof and dived, with a mighty splash, into the deep water of the pool, adjoining which Canoe Lodge was built.

“He’ll be drowned!” cried Grace, wringing her plump hands.

“It’ll serve him right if he is!” exclaimed Bessie. “What business had he on our roof, I want to know?”

“Poor Tubby!” cried Wyn, choked with laughter.

“Isn’t he the most ridiculous creature that ever was?” rejoined Frank. “See there! he’s come up to blow like a frog.”

“It’s a whale that comes up to blow,” Wyn reminded her.

“Well! isn’t Tubby Blaisdell a regular whale of a boy?” returned the black-eyed girl.

“There’s Dave!” cried Mina.

“I knew the two wouldn’t be far apart!” sniffed Bess Lavine.

“He’s got a boat and is going to Tubby’s rescue,” cried Grace.

“But see Tubby flounder around!” Frankie observed. “Why! that boy couldn’t sink if you filled his pockets with flatirons!”

“There! he is going under,” ejaculated the more timorous Mina.

“Dave will get him, all right,” declared Wyn, with confidence.

She and Dave Shepard had been good chums since they were both in rompers. Her girl friends might tease Wyn sometimes about Dave; but the girl had no brothers and Dave made up the loss to her in every way.

“Oh! he’s going to spear him with that boathook!” gasped Mina again.

And really, it looked so. Tubby Blaisdell was splashing about in the pool before the canoe landing like a young grampus. Tubby was always getting into more or less serious predicaments, and he always “lost his head” and usually had to be aided by his friends.

In this case Dave Shepard prepared to literally spear him in the water. Dave–who was a tall, athletic boy, with a frank, pleasant face, if freckled, and close-cut brown curls in profusion–had driven the flat-bottomed skiff he had obtained from a neighboring landing, across the pool, and now, standing erect in the boat, with a single lunge impaled upon the boathook the tail of Tubby’s coat.

His chum was going down, as Dave thrust the boathook; for the unfortunate victim of the accident had swallowed a quantity of water when he dived with the plank from the eaves of the roof of Canoe Lodge. There was no time to lose if Dave wished to rescue Tubby before serious injury resulted to the unfortunate fat youth.

It was something of a feat to bring Tubby Blaisdell alongside the skiff and haul him inboard without overturning the boat. But Dave accomplished it to the admiration of the girls–even to Bessie’s satisfaction.

“Well, I’m glad he got Tubby out,” said that damsel, nodding her head.

“Glad to know that you are so humane, Bess,” laughed Frank.

The girls trooped out to learn at closer range if the Blaisdell youth was really injured or only exhausted.

He lay panting like a big fish in the bottom of the skiff. It was altogether too cold an evening for him to be exposed in his wet clothing. When the skiff’s nose bumped into the shore, Dave Shepard leaped out with alacrity and secured the painter to a post.

“Get up out of there, Tubby!” he commanded. “You’ll get your death of dampness. Come on!”

“Oh–oh–oh! I can’t,” chattered the fat youth. “I–I’m fr-roze to the ve-ry mar-row of m-m-my bones!”

“The chill has struck in awful deep, then, Tubby,” cried Frank Cameron, from the river bank.

“Come on out of that!” commanded Dave. “I’m going to run you home so that you will not get cold.”

“Me?” chattered Blaisdell, rising like a turtle out of its shell. “Run me home? Wh-wh-why, I c-c-couldn’t do it. You know I couldn’t r-r-run that far, Dave.”

“He must go right in by our fire and get warm,” declared Wyn, quickly. “Get your things, girls, and we’ll all go home and leave Dave and Tubby to enjoy that nice fire Grace built.”

“That wet boy all over our nice rug!” exclaimed Bessie. “I object.”

“Don’t be hateful, Bess,” admonished Grace.

“But what was he doing on our roof?” demanded the girl who claimed that she did not like boys.

At this Dave burst into a great laugh and was scarcely able to drag Tubby ashore.

“It’s a wonder he didn’t come right through on our heads,” complained Frank. “He’s so heavy.”

“But he would do it,” declared Dave, still laughing as he helped his fat friend up the bank to the door of Canoe Lodge. “It would have been a real good trick, too, if Tubby hadn’t slipped.”

“Always up to mischief!” sniffed Bessie Lavine. “That’s why I dislike boys so.”

“I don’t see what he could do on our roof,” said Wyn, wonderingly.

“And he had no business there!” cried Grace.

“Why,” explained Dave, for Tubby could not defend himself. “We saw Grace making the fire, and we knew the wood was green. It made a big smudge coming out of the chimney, and Tubby thought he had a brilliant idea.”

“I know!” exclaimed Frankie. “He had that plank to put over the top of our chimney. We’d have been smoked out, sure enough.”

“That’s it,” chuckled Dave. “Tubby got up all right, and he got the plank up all right. But just as he tried to lift the plank to the top of the chimney his foot slipped, the board dropped, he fell on it as if he was coasting down hill, and–you saw the rest!”

“Oh–oh!” chattered Tubby. “Come on in and let me get–get to–to th-that f-f-fire. I’m frozen!”

“Here’s the key, Dave,” said Wyn, laughing (for the fat youth did look so funny), “and you can lock up when you go home and bring the key to my house. Don’t you boys make a mess in here for us to clean up,” she added.

“But they will. Boys always do,” declared Bessie Lavine.

“Well, thank goodness, it won’t be my turn to clean up after them, or make another fire,” declared Grace.

“They will do no damage,” returned Wyn, with assurance, as the girls trooped away from the boathouse toward the town.

“They have to keep their camp clean,” declared Frank. “I know that. Professor Skillings may be forgetful; but he is very particular about that. Ferdinand Roberts told me so.”

“I expect those horrid Busters do know a lot more than we do about camping.”

“Indeed they do,” sighed Grace. “How’ll we ever put up a tent big enough to house seven?”

“The boys will help us,” declared Wyn.

“I expect we’ll have to let them,” grumbled Bess. “Or else pay a man to do it for us.”

“My goodness me!” laughed Frances Cameron. “It must be a dreadful thing to hate boys like Bess does! They’re awfully bad sometimes, I know – ”

“Look at what those two boys tried to do to us this very evening,” exclaimed Bessie.

“Oh, Tubby’s always up to some foolishness,” said Percy, laughing.

“And that Dave Shepard is just as bad!” cried Bess Lavine, tossing her head.

“Wyn won’t agree with that statement,” chuckled Frank.

“And all six of the Busters are full of mischief,” went on the complaining one. “I wish they were not going to the same place we are to camp.”

“Why, Bess!” exclaimed Mina.

“I do wish that. They’ll be around under foot all the time. And they’ll play tricks, and be rough and rude, and I know they will spoil the summer for us.”

“You go on!” came from Frank, with some scorn. “I guess I can hold up my end against the Busters.”

“Just wait and see,” prophesied Bessie, shaking her head. “I feel very sure that, the Busters and the Go-Ahead Club will not get along well together at Lake Honotonka.”

“It takes two parties for an argument,” said Wyn Mallory, quietly. “And in spite of their mischief I believe in the Busters.”

“Wait and see if what I say isn’t true!” snapped Bessie, and turned off into a side street toward her own home.

CHAPTER III

POLLY

Wyn Mallory was one of those girls whom people called “different.”

Not that there was a thing really odd about her. She was happy, healthy, more than a little athletic, of a sanguine temperament, and possessed a deal of tact for a girl of her age.

But there was a quality in her character that balanced her better than most girls are. That foundation of good sense on which only can be erected a lasting character, was Wyn’s. She was just as girlish and “fly-away” at times, as Frances Cameron herself, or Percy Havel; but she always stopped short of hurting another person’s feelings and she seemed to really enjoy doing things for others, which her mates sometimes acclaimed as “tiresome.”

And don’t think there was a mite of self-consciousness about all this in Wyn Mallory’s make-up, for there wasn’t. She enjoyed being helpful and kind because that was her nature–not for the praise she might receive from her older friends.

Wyn was a natural leader. Such girls always are. Without asserting themselves, other girls will look up to them, and copy them, and follow them. Whereas a bad, or ill-natured, or haughty girl must have some means of bribing the weak-minded ones to gain a following at all.

The Mallory family was a small one. Wyn had a little sister; but there was a difference of twelve years between them. The family was a very affectionate one, and Papa Mallory, Mamma Mallory, and Wyn all worshipped at the shrine of little May.

So when at supper that Friday evening something was said about certain drygoods needed for the little one, Wyn offered at once to spend her Saturday forenoon shopping.

She had plenty to do that morning; Saturday morning is always a busy time for any school girl in the upper grades, and Wyn was well advanced at Denton Academy. But she hastened out by nine o’clock and went down town.

Denton was a pretty town, with good stores, a courthouse, well stocked library and several churches of various denominations. In the center was an ancient Parade Ground–a broad, well-shaped public park, with a huge flagstaff in the middle of the main field, and Civil War cannon flanking the entrances.

Denton had a history. On this open field the Minute Men had marched and counter-marched; and before Revolutionary days, even, the so-called “train-bands” had paraded here. Like Boston Common, Denton’s Parade Ground was a plot devoted for all time to the people, and could be used for no other purpose but that of a public park.

The streets that bordered the three sides of the Parade Ground (for it was of flat-iron shape) were the best residential streets of the town; yet Market Street–the main business thoroughfare–was only a square away from one side of the park.

Wyn Mallory on this bright May morning walked briskly along the shaded side of the park and turned off at Archer Street to reach the main stem of the town, where the shops stood in rows and the electric cars to Maynbury had the right of way in the middle of the street.

Her very first call was at Mr. Erad’s drygoods and notion store. His shop was much smaller than some of the modern “department” stores that had of late appeared in Denton; but the old store held the conservative trade. Mr. Erad had been in trade, at this very corner, from the time he was a smooth-faced young man; and now his hair and beard were almost white.

He was a pleasant, cheerful–and usually charitable–gentleman, with rosy cheeks and gold-rimmed spectacles. He spent most of his time “on the floor,” greeting old customers, attracting new ones with his courtesy, and generally overseeing the salesmen.

He usually had a pleasant word and a hand-shake for Wyn when she entered his store; but this morning the old gentleman did not even notice her as she came through one of the turnstile doors.