The Camp Fire Girls' Larks and Pranks Part 25

"They will never take me back now," said Veronica sadly, "after this dreadful thing I did."

"But you didn't do it," maintained Katherine, "you came to your senses in time. We all have done some pretty foolish things, I guess, if they weren't quite so startling as the one you planned. But anyway, they'll never know a thing about it, so they can't have the laugh on you."

"You mean you'll never tell anyone?" cried Veronica unbelievingly.

"Not a soul," said Katherine earnestly. "Not any of the Winnebagos, nor your uncle, nor your aunt, nor even Nyoda. Never a word, on my honor as a-a peasant! If I had intended telling anyone I'd have taken your wallet to your uncle right away, with the note in it, instead of keeping you back in the way I did. But I knew you'd come to yourself presently, and there was no use making a fuss. I'll keep your secret, never fear. I won't even have to explain my absence from the cla.s.s banquet. They all know how absent-minded I am, and they will simply think I forgot. That's the advantage of having a reputation!" And Veronica, looking into Katherine's homely, honest face, knew that her word would stand against flood and earthquake.

"Do you really think the Winnebagos will take me back?" she asked timidly.

For answer Katherine picked up Veronica's suitcase, linked her arm through hers, and started homeward at a lively pace. "You _are_ back,"

she said simply. "You never were really 'put out,' you know. You left of your own accord and we have missed you very much and were just waiting for you to say the word. Oh, I'm so glad!" And her feet began to shuffle back and forth in a lively manner, and she began to hum in sprightly tones the tune, "When Johnny Comes Marching Home." Thus it was that the Torch, carried by Katherine, drew Veronica to the Fire after all, although Katherine did not even know that she held the Torch in her hand.

The last meeting of the Winnebagos with Nyoda came, oh, much too soon!

The boys were warned to stay away, for not even these dear friends were to be allowed to disturb the sacredness of that gathering. They cooked supper for the last time, trying to be riotously cheerful, with the tears dripping off the ends of their noses into the dishes. All the favorite Winnebago messes were cooked, because Nyoda couldn't decide which one she wanted most. There was Shrimp Wiggle and Slumgullion and scones and ice cream with Wohelo Special Sauce, which was a heavenly mixture of maple syrup, chocolate and chopped nuts.

The feast was soon spread, and they gathered around the table to sing the Camp Fire blessing,

"If we have earned the right to eat this bread,"

and most of the voices quavered before they came to the end.

That supper remained in their memories many years afterward. Katherine had to deliver all her familiar speeches over and over again; Migwan, who had come home from college in time to attend the farewell meeting, gave a fine history of the group from its beginning; Gladys danced her best dances; and all the favorite stunts were gone through and the favorite songs sung. And Nyoda looked upon and listened to it all with a smiling face and tear-dimmed eyes. The Winnebagos had formed a large part of her life for the past three years. Veronica, who was at the supper, and had been welcomed back into the group with open arms upon her humble apology, wept disconsolately most of the time. To have been restored to the good graces of this wonderful young woman, only to lose her again immediately afterward! She bitterly regretted her withdrawing from the group during the winter and thus losing her last opportunity of comrades.h.i.+p with Nyoda.

Supper over they wandered out into the warm June twilight to watch for the evening stars before beginning the ceremonial meeting. "We'll have the same stars as you do, anyhow," said Hinpoha, "and when they come out we'll think of each other, will you, Nyoda?"

"Indeed I will," said Nyoda, heartily.

"And when Ca.s.siopea comes out the W will stand for Winnebago," added Gladys.

"And that long scraggly constellation will remind you of me," said Katherine, and they all had to laugh in spite of their sadness.

By and by they wandered back to the House of the Open Door and Nyoda went up alone and left them standing before the door. Then pretty soon the signal bird calls floated up and Nyoda's voice called down from above, saying, "Who's there?" and they answered with the foolish pa.s.swords and countersigns that they loved because they were so foolish. One by one they climbed the ladder and took their places in the circle, their eyes on Nyoda, as she twirled the drill with the bow, kindling their last Council Fire. The spark came immediately and leapt into flame and kindled the f.a.gots piled on the hearth. Feeling the spell of it as they never had before, they sang "Burn, Fire, Burn."

Then came the last roll call. Nyoda's voice lingered lovingly on each name: "Hinpoha; Sahwah; Geyahi (Gladys); Iagoonah; Medmangi; Nakwisi; Waban (Veronica)."

Migwan read the Count, written in her inimitable lilting metre, which touched on the many happy times they had had together, and ended,

"All too brief that Moon of Gladness, Long shall be the years of parting!"

Then Hinpoha put her head on her knee with a stifled sob, and at that they all broke down and cried together, with their arms around Nyoda.

"Come girls, be good," said Nyoda, after a minute, sitting up and wiping her eyes. "Stand up and take your honors like men!"

And she proceeded to raise all the girls who had not already taken that honor, to the rank of Torchbearer, excepting, of course, Veronica. As she awarded the pins she spoke a few words to each girl, telling in what way she had become worthy of this highest rank. When she came to Katherine, she laid her hand on her shoulder. "Good wine needs no bush," she said with a whimsical smile. "And Katherine needs no advocate. Her actions speak for themselves. Her masterly handling of that volley ball game the other day gives the keynote to her character. The ability to s.n.a.t.c.h victory from seeming defeat is a gift which will carry one far in the world. And do not forget that Katherine went into that game as a humble filler-in, simply to oblige the team, and without a thought of gaining any glory thereby. That is what I meant by losing one's self in the common cause which is a necessary qualification for a Torchbearer.

Katherine would go to any trouble to help somebody else get glory for themselves, or to help them out of trouble." And Veronica almost burst with the desire to tell of the last great service Katherine had done her.

Katherine blushed at Nyoda's words and winked back the tears and dropped the pin, and murmured brokenly that she would try to be a worthy Torchbearer, and would do her best to stop being so absent-minded. And then all the Torchbearers, new and old, joined hands in a circle and repeated their desire:

"The light that has been given to me I desire to pa.s.s undimmed unto others."

"And now a word about the future," said Nyoda, putting wood on the fire and sending the flames roaring up the chimney. "You girls declare you do not want another Guardian. I heartily agree with you in this. That does not mean that I would be jealous of a possible successor. But I think the time has come when you no longer need a Guardian. For three years you have been bound together by ties stronger than sisterhood, and have had all the fun that it is possible for girls to have, working always as a unit. You have stood in a close circle, always facing inward. Now you must turn around and face outward. You have been leaders from the beginning, and I have trained you as leaders. And a leader must stand alone. Each one of you will have a different way of pa.s.sing on the light.

The time has come to begin. The old order has pa.s.sed when you did every thing under my direction. You must kindle new Camp Fires now and teach to others the things you have learned."

"Oh, Nyoda," cried Gladys sorrowfully, "do you mean that all our good times together are over? That this is the end of it all?"

"No, dear, this is not the end," said Nyoda cheerfully, "this is the 'beginning of it all.' I do not mean for a moment that you girls are not to meet and frolic together any more; but that must not be the main thing. You must begin leading groups of younger girls and teaching them to have a good time as you have learned to. What wonderful Guardians you will make in time!" she said musingly.

"Besides," she added, after a moment's silence, while the girls thoughtfully pondered the new idea she had given them, "you had come to the parting of the ways, although you didn't seem to realize it. You have graduated from school, and next year Hinpoha and Gladys and Katherine are going away to college, each one to a different city, and Nakwisi is to travel with her aunt, and Veronica will be going to New York to study music sooner or later. That leaves only Sahwah and Medmangi here in the city. You couldn't go on as you have in the past, even if I were not going away. But come," she cried in an animated tone, "enough of solemn talk! We've had three years together, and n.o.body can take them away from us, never. And we're all together now. Let the future take care of itself; this is today! Come, come, a song!"

And once more the rafters rang:

"O we are Winnebagos and we're loyal friends and true, We always work in harmony in everything we do, We always think the weather's fine, in suns.h.i.+ne or in snow, We're happy all the time because we're maids of Wohelo!"

The echoes died away and then sprang into life again.

"For we are Winnebagos, For we are Winnebagos, For we are Winnebagos, And that's why we're so spry!"

"A toast!" cried Nyoda, "a toast to the future!" And they drank it in the remains of the cocoa. Their eyes met as they clinked the cups, and overflowed. "Oh, my girls," cried Nyoda, trying to get her arms around all of them at once, "there never _was_ such a group! And there never _will_ be such a group! I just can't leave you!" Then she pulled herself up again. The time was pa.s.sing and she must hasten, for she was leaving on the train late that night. Her marriage was to take place in the East.

"Come, girls, 'Mystic Fire.'" And once again their voices rose in musical chant:

"With hand uplifted we claim thy power, Guide and keep us as we go, True to Wohelo.

Thy law is our law from this hour, Thy mystic spirit's flame will show Us the way to go."

And so on to the end.

But when they stood in the close circle with which the song ends, Nyoda stooped to the hearth, and, plucking forth a burning brand, held it aloft as a torch, and the girls pa.s.sed in front of her, each carrying a tiny torch in her hand, which she lit from the big one. Then the circle stood complete once more, a ring of s.h.i.+ning light. Silence fell on all. The moment of parting had come.

"Don't say good-bye," begged Nyoda. "Act as if I were a guest just leaving for a short time."

And bravely, with voices that did not falter to the end, they sang the familiar guest song:

"Our guest, may she come again soon--"

and followed it with a fervent cheer:

"O Nyoda, here's to you, Our hearts will e'er be true, We will never find your equal Though we search the whole world through!"

Then the circle turned resolutely and faced outward. A moment more they lingered, and then they went forth into the night, carrying their torches with them.

THE END