The Girl Scouts at Camp Comalong Part 17

DANGER SIGNALS

Daylight showed what havoc the storm had wrought. The lake front was strewn with craft washed in by the swelled waters; there were sailboats bottom side up, canvas carried from one end of the lake to the other, rowboats torn from their docks where strong ropes over stronger posts were thought to hold them securely; in fact the storm had been a record-breaker and the new record was one of considerable devastation.

Crowds of curious gathered early, and in general terms business was suspended in favor of sight-seeing. But it was among the campers that the greatest damage had been done, and Camp Norm was not alone in blowing away in the tempest.

Those who sought shelter in Camp Comalong were up and out early, and the Bobbies were not long in following.

"Poor old Norm," sighed Bubbles. "We will now be sure to fall to sub-norm, for never again can we claim to be normal."

A camp untented after a downpour of rain is about as forlorn a sight as can be imagined, and it was such a spectacle as this that confronted the Norms on the bleakish early morning.

Wet! Wetter! Wettest!

The trees still rained; the gra.s.s emitted a hissing moisture, the air was as wet as if the rain had anch.o.r.ed in it, and never was there a more unhappy looking crowd than the unroofed campers of Lake Hocomo.

"Weren't we lucky?" said Julia. "Just see how everyone has had something damaged and we never lost a thing but a couple of tree boxes."

"And the curtains off the sideboard," added Grace. "But they were going anyhow, I caught my heel in one yesterday."

Everyone helped everyone get things back where they belonged, and by noon the Norm girls had succeeded in reclaiming the truant canvas and stretching it again over their summer belongings. Many things were irreparably damaged, for even good, strong boxes could not stand the elements when they "elemented" at last night's pace.

But the excitement added zest to their spirit, and hither and thither went the Bobbies like a little band of rescuers, carrying and toting for the victims quite like the workers in more seriously stricken zones.

A holiday was declared in the afternoon, however, and it was then that Cleo, Louise and Julia went for their long, looked forward to ride.

Being a.s.sured they had permission from home (it was talked of on the visit with mothers the day before), also a.s.sured that a woman instructor would ride with the girls, they left camp directly after dinner, hurried to the home cottages to don their riding togs, and when the sky was bluest, the trees greenest, and everything nicely dried up, the three Scouts, with Mrs. Broadbent the instructor, cantered off through the curling roads of Hocomo.

Getting acquainted with their horses took some little time, but they were gentle animals and seemed to enjoy either trotting or cantering as their little riders willed.

Out on the turnpike road there were so many motors that Mrs. Broadbent suggested they go cross field and come out along the old mining regions.

"Is that where the powder mills are?" asked Cleo.

"Yes, there are some big powder works in this district," replied the horsewoman. "We had many soldier boys out here doing guard duty a few years ago."

The girls remembered the remark about dynamite signs, more than one person having warned them that the signs might be found but were really harmless, and when their horses smelled the fresh clover on the slope between two hills, Mrs. Broadbent suggested the riders dismount and rest awhile, allowing the horses to "nose around" and enjoy themselves for a half hour.

"'Pep' expects a treat when he gets up here," she said, "and Baldy likes this tall gra.s.s, he doesn't have to stoop so low to get it."

The riders a.s.sented gladly. It was delightful to "browse" in such a spot, for the hill afforded a rare view of the lake and surrounding bungalows and tent district.

Freely the three Scouts roamed about, searching for odd flowers and pretty stones, although just how the stones were going to be carried without spoiling riding-habit pockets, was not quite clear. The horsewoman stretched herself in the gra.s.s and called orders to the horses, should they wander too far from safety.

Hunting about, Louise found a pretty little mountain bell in between rocks, where it must have expected security, while Cleo and Julia were soon applying their newest botanical knowledge on the Jack-in-pulpit and companion wild orchids.

Glittering bits of stone, the sparkling mica-schist, that looks like pebbly crystals spread on too thick, afforded another line of investigation, and following such a trail into a little ravine, Julia discovered the dynamite sign.

At first she was inclined to heed its warning literally, and with a little squeal she dropped one of her prettiest stones and sc.r.a.ped her riding boot in hurrying away; but Cleo was more daring.

"Just one of those make-believe signs," she suggested. "Perhaps the boys gathered them from around the old powder works and set them up to scare people away."

"Maybe the boys have a hidden cave somewhere and the signs are to keep folks away," Louise amplified the idea so barely outlined by Cleo.

"But we had better not follow the trail," demurred Julia. "The rocks are awfully rough anyhow, and we will skin our boots to pieces if we try to climb higher."

All three stood looking at the sign but no one ventured to touch the tin square, which stood on its iron peg firmly planted in the ground and mutely gave forth its "Danger" warning.

Cleo bent over to look all around the little signal.

"There doesn't seem to be a pipe, or a wire, or anything near it," she reported. "I can't see how there can be any danger without something dangerous."

"Don't you dare touch it," warned Julia. "It is certainly planted there for some purpose."

"Boys, I'm just sure," insisted Louise. "I've often read of their caves in the mountains and how they store things away in them. Boys'

books are packed full of that sort of thing."

"But real robbers have mountain caves also." Julia was determined to make a good story out of the plot. "How would you like to run into a genuine bandit, with a black handkerchief over his face and two hideous pistols in his hand?"

"One in each hand, Jule," corrected Cleo. "That's the regular way,"

and she stalked forward in the "regulation way," with two pretty innocent Jack-in-pulpits doing service in lieu of the dangerous bandit weapons.

"Come along, desperadoes, there's our horses calling us," Julia proposed.

"I'd just like to kick over that sign," Cleo whispered to Louise.

"Let's get that long stick over there and turn it over," suggested Louise.

"Suppose we blow up the hills," laughed Cleo. But Louise had already obtained the stick, and although Julia was headed for the waiting horses her two companions were still fascinated by that danger signal.

"Look out!" warned Louise, going a little closer.

"Let me do it, Weasy, if there's a blow I can run faster than you."

Both giggled and chuckled, becoming more reckless as they joked.

Finally both held the stick and attempted to poke.

Only girls of their charmed age can do a thing like that in the way they did it, for had the innocent tin sign been a perfectly obvious bomb, the Bobbies could not possibly have made greater show and fuss over their attempt to displace it.

"Care--ful!" whispered Cleo, but one thrust of the white birch pole and the sign was uprooted!

As it fell from its peg the girls squealed and jumped, but there it lay, like a sign "keep off the gra.s.s" or "please wipe your feet," and nothing happened.

"I knew it!" snapped Cleo.

"Of course," insisted Louise. "Just boys' pranks."

"But there could be danger further on," argued Cleo, loathe to give up a perfectly good sensation without even a s.h.i.+ver.