Chapter 5

"I'm coming," called Mary instantly, and directly she was out in the storm. Where the next tent had been, nothing but the wooden flooring, the iron cots, and four wooden boxes remained, and over these the rain was pouring in heavy, blinding sheets. Mrs. Royall, as wet as if she had just come out of the bay, was holding up a lantern, by the light of which Mary caught a fleeting glimpse of four figures in dripping raincoats scudding towards the dining-room, while two others followed them with arms full of wet bedding.

Mrs. Royall told Mary to gather up the bedding from a third cot and carry that to the dining-room, "And you take the rest of it," she added to another girl, who had followed Mary. "And stay in the dining-room--both of you. Don't come out again. Miss Anne will tell you what to do there."

She held the lantern high until the girls reached the dining-room, then she hurried to another tent, from which came a hubbub of frightened cries. Pushing aside the canvas curtain she stepped inside the tent, and holding up her lantern, looked about her. The cries and excited exclamations ceased at the sight of her, though one girl could not control her nervous sobbing.

"What is the matter here? Your tent hasn't blown over. What are you crying about, Rose?" Mrs. Royall demanded.

Rose Anderson, an excitable little creature of fifteen, lifted a face white as chalk. "O," she sobbed, "something came in--right up on my bed. It was big and--and furry--and _wet_! O Mrs. Royall, I never was so scared in my life!" She ended with a burst of hysterical sobbing.

Mrs. Royall cast a swift searching glance around the tent, then--wet and cold and worried as she was, her face crinkled into sudden laughter.

"Look, Rose--over there on that box. That must be the wet, furry _big_ intruder that scared you so!"

Four pairs of round frightened eyes followed her pointing finger; and on the box they saw a half-grown rabbit, with eyes bulging like marbles as the little creature crouched there in deadly terror. One glance, and three of the girls broke into shrieks of nervous laughter in which, after a moment, Rose joined. And having begun to laugh the girls kept on, until those in the other tents began to wonder if somebody had gone crazy. Mrs. Royall finally had to speak sternly to put an end to the hysterical chorus.

"There, there, girls, that will do--now be quiet! Listen, the thunder is fainter now, and the lightning less sharp. I think the wind is going down too. Are any of you wet?"

"Only--only Rose, where the _big_ furry thing----" began one, and at that a fresh peal of laughter rang out. But Mrs. Royall's grave face silenced it quickly.

"Listen, girls," she repeated, "you are keeping me here when I am needed to look after others. I cannot go until you are quiet. I'll take this half-drowned rabbit"--she reached over and picked up the trembling little creature--"with me; and now I think you can go to sleep. I am sure the worst of the storm is over."

"We will be quiet, Mrs. Royall," Edith Rue promised, her lips twitching again as she looked at the shivering rabbit.

"And I hope now _you_ can get some rest," another added, and then Mrs. Royall dropped the curtain and went out again into the rain, which was still falling heavily. All the other tents had withstood the gale, and when Mrs. Royall had looked into each one, answered the eager questions of the girls, and assured them that no one was hurt and the worst of the storm was over, she hurried back to the dining-room. There she found that Anne and Laura had warmed and dried the girls, who had been turned out of their tent, given them hot milk, and made up dry beds for them on the floor.

"They are warm as toast," Anne assured her.

"And now you and I will get back to bed, Elizabeth," Mary Hastings said, again slipping on her raincoat, while Laura quietly threw her own over the other girl's shoulders.

"Wait a minute," Mrs. Royall ordered, and brought them two sandbags hot from the kitchen oven. "You must not go to sleep with cold feet. And thank you both for your help," she added. "I'll hold the lantern here at the door so you can see your way." But Laura quietly took the lantern from her, and held it till Mary called, "All right!"

"Is that you, Mary?" Olga's quiet voice questioned, as the girls entered the tent.

"Yes--Elizabeth and I. The excitement is all over and the storm will be soon. Let's all get to sleep as fast as we can."

"Elizabeth!" Olga repeated to herself. She had not known that Elizabeth had left her cot. "Why did you go?" she asked in a low tone, as Elizabeth crept under the blankets.

"Why--to help," the Poor Thing answered, squeezing the hand that touched hers in the darkness.

The storm surely was lessening now. The lightning came at longer intervals and the thunder lagged farther and farther behind it. The rain still fell, but not so heavily, and the roar of the wind had died down to a sullen growl. In ten minutes the other three girls were sound asleep, but Olga lay long awake, her eyes searching the darkness, as her thoughts searched her own soul, finding there some things that greatly astonished her.

VI

A WATER CURE

There were some pale cheeks and heavy eyes the next morning, but no one had taken cold from the exposure of the night, and most of the girls were as fresh and full of life as ever. The camp, however, was strewn with leaves and broken branches, and one tree was uprooted. Mrs. Royall's face was grave as she thought of what might have been, had that tree fallen across any of the tents. It was a heavy responsibility that she carried with these forty girls under her charge, and never had she felt it more deeply than now.

The baby bunny was evidently somebody's stray pet, for it submitted to handling as if used to it, showed no desire to get away, and contentedly nibbled the lettuce leaves and carrots which the girls begged of Katie.

"He fairly _purrs_ when I scratch his head," Louise Johnson declared gaily. "Girls, we must keep him for the camp mascot."

"Looks as if we should have to keep him unless a claimant appears," Mary Hastings said. "I've almost stepped on him twice already. I don't believe we could drive him away with a club."

"Nobody wants to drive him away," retorted Louise, lifting him by his long ears, "unless maybe Rose," she added, with a teasing glance over her shoulder. "You know Rose doesn't care for _big_ furry things."

"Well, I guess," protested Rose, "if he had flopped into your face all dripping wet, in the dark, as he did into mine last night, you wouldn't have stopped to measure him before you yelled, any more than I did. He _felt_ as big as--a wildcat, so there!" and Rose turned away with flushed cheeks, followed by shouts of teasing laughter.

"It's--too bad. I'd have been scared too," said a low voice, and Rose, turning, stared in amazement at the Poor Thing--the _Poor Thing_--for almost the first time since she came to camp, volunteering a remark.

"Why--why, you Po--_Elizabeth_!" Rose stammered, and then suddenly she slipped her arm around Elizabeth's waist and drew her off to the hammock behind the pines. "Come," she said, "I want to tell you about it. The girls are all laughing at me--especially Louise Johnson--but it wasn't any laughing matter to me last night. I was scared stiff--truly I was!" She poured the story of her experiences into the other girl's ears. The fact that Elizabeth said nothing made no difference to Rose. She felt the silent sympathy and was comforted. When she had talked herself out, Elizabeth slipped away and sought Olga, but Olga was nowhere to be found--not in the camp nor on the beach, but one of the boats was missing, and at last a girl told Elizabeth that she had seen Olga go off alone in it. That meant an age of anxious watching and waiting for the Poor Thing. She never could get over her horror of the treacherous blue water. To her it was a great restless monster forever reaching out after some living thing to clutch and drag down into its cruel bosom. It was agony to her to see Olga swim and dive; hardly less agony to see her go off in a boat or canoe. Always Elizabeth was sure that _this_ time she would not come back.

She had put on her bathing suit, for Olga still made her wade every morning, and she wandered forlornly along the beach, and finally ventured a little way into the water. It was horrible to do even that alone, but she had promised, and she must do it even if Olga was not there to know. A troop of girls in bathing suits came racing down to the beach, Anne and Laura following them.

"What--who is that standing out in the water all alone?" demanded Anne Wentworth, who was a little near-sighted.

Annie Pearson broke into a peal of laughter. "It's that Poor Thing," she cried. "Did you ever see such a forlorn figure!"

"Looks like a sick penguin," laughed Louise Johnson.

"Why in the world is she standing there all alone?" cried Laura, and hurried on ahead, calling, "Elizabeth--Elizabeth, come here. I want you."

Elizabeth, standing in water up to her ankles, hesitated for a moment, swept the wide stretch of blue with a wistful searching glance, and then obeyed the summons.

"Why were you standing there, dear?" Laura questioned gently, leading her away from the laughing curious girls.

Elizabeth lifted earnest eyes to the kind face bending towards her.

"I promised Olga I'd wade every day--so I had to." Then she broke out, "O Miss Laura, do you think she'll come back? She went all alone, and she isn't anywhere in sight."

Laura drew the shivering little figure close to her side. "Why, of course she'll come back, Elizabeth. Why shouldn't she? She's been out so scores of times, just as I have. What makes you worry so, child?"

Elizabeth drew a long shuddering breath. "I can't help it," she sighed. "The water always makes me _so_ afraid, Miss Laura!"

She lifted such a white miserable face that Laura saw it was really true--she was in the grip of a deadly terror. She drew the trembling girl down beside her on the warm sand. "Let's sit here a little while," she said, and for a few minutes they sat in silence, while further up the beach girls were wading and swimming and splashing each other, their shouts of laughter making a merry din. Some were diving from the pier, and one stood on a high springboard. Suddenly this one flung out her arms and sprang off, her slim body seeming to float between sky and water, as she swept downward in a graceful curving line.

Laura caught her breath nervously as her eyes followed the slender figure that looked so very small outstretched between sky and water, and Elizabeth covered her eyes with a little moan.

"O, I wish she wouldn't do that--I do wish she wouldn't!" she said under her breath.

Laura spoke cheerfully. "She is all right. See, Elizabeth, how fast she is swimming now."

But Elizabeth shook her head and would not look. Laura put her arm across the narrow shrinking shoulders and after a moment spoke again, slowly. "Elizabeth, you love Olga, don't you?"

Elizabeth looked up quickly. She did not answer--or need to.

"Yes, I know you do," Laura went on, answering the look. "But do you love her enough to do something very hard--for her?"

"Yes, Miss Laura. Tell me what. She won't ever let me do anything for her."

"It will be very, very hard for you," Laura warned her.

The girl looked at her silently, and waited.

"Elizabeth, I don't think you could do anything else that would please her so much as to conquer your fear of the water _for her sake_. Can you do such a hard thing as that--for Olga?"

A look of positive agony swept over Elizabeth's face. "_Any_thing but just that," she moaned. "O Miss Laura, you don't know--you _can't_ know how I hate it--that deep black water!"

"But can't you--even for Olga?" Laura questioned very gently.

Elizabeth shook her head and two big tears rolled down her cheeks. "I would if I could. I'd do anything, anything else for her; but that--I _can't_!" she moaned.

Laura put her hand under the trembling chin, and lifting the girl's face looked deep into the blue eyes swimming with tears.

"Elizabeth," she said slowly, a world of love and sympathy in her voice, "Elizabeth, you _can_!"

In that long deep look the dread and horror and misery died slowly out of Elizabeth's eyes, and a faint incredulous hope began to grow in them. It was as if she literally drew courage and determination from the eyes looking into hers, and who can tell what subtle spirit message really passed from the strong soul into the weaker one?

"I never, never could," Elizabeth faltered; but Laura caught the note of wavering hope in the low-spoken words.

"Elizabeth, you can. I _know_ you can," she repeated.

"How?" questioned Elizabeth, and Laura smiled and drew her closer.

"You are afraid of the water," she said, "and your fear is like a cord that binds your will just as your arms might be bound to your sides with a scarf. But you can break the cord, and when you do, you will not be afraid of the water any more. Myra Karr was afraid just as you are--afraid of almost everything, but one wonderful day she conquered her fear. Ask her and she will tell you about it, and how much happier she has been ever since, as you will be when you have broken your cords. And just think how it will please Olga!"

There was a little silence; then suddenly Elizabeth leaned forward, eagerly pointing off over the water. "Is it--is she coming?" she whispered.

"Yes, she is coming. Now just think how you have suffered worrying over her this morning, and all for nothing."

Elizabeth drew a long happy breath. "I don't care now she's coming," she said, and it was as if she sang the words.

Laura went on, "Have you noticed, Elizabeth, how different Olga is from the other girls? She never laughs and frolics. She never really enjoys any of the games. She cares for nothing but work. She hasn't a single friend in the camp--she won't have one. I don't think she is happy, do you?"

Elizabeth considered that in silence. She had known these things, but she had never thought of them before.

"It's so," she admitted finally, her eyes on the approaching boat.

"Elizabeth, I think you are the only one who can really help Olga."

"I?" Elizabeth lifted wondering eyes. Then she added hastily, "You mean--going in the water?" She shuddered at the thought.

"Yes, dear, if you will let Olga help you to get rid of your fear of the water, it will mean more to her even than to you. Olga needs you, child, more than you need her, for you have many friends now in the camp, and she has only you."

"I like her the best of all," Elizabeth declared loyally.

"Yes, but you must prove it to her before you can really help her," Laura replied. "See, she is almost in now, and I won't keep you any longer."

Olga secured her boat to a ring and ran lightly up the steps. In a few minutes she came back in her bathing suit. As she ran down the beach, she swept a swift searching glance over the few girls sitting or lying on the sand; then her eyes rested on a little shrinking figure standing like a small blue post, knee deep in the water. It was Elizabeth, her cheeks colourless, her eyes fixed beseechingly, imploringly, on Olga's face. In a flash Olga was beside her, crying out sharply,

"What made you come in alone?"

"I p-promised you----" Elizabeth replied, her teeth chattering.

"Well, you've done it," said Olga. "Cut out now and get dressed."

But Elizabeth stood still and shook her head. "No," though her lips trembled, her voice was determined, "no, Olga, I'm going up to my--my neck to-day," and she held out her hands.

"You are not--you're coming out!" Olga declared. "You're in a blue funk this minute."

"I--know it," gasped Elizabeth, "but I'm going in--_alone_--if you won't go with me. Quick, Olga, quick!" she implored.

Some instinct stilled the remonstrance on Olga's lips. She grasped Elizabeth by her shoulders and walking backward herself, drew the other girl steadily on until the water rose to her neck. Elizabeth gasped, and deadly fear looked out of her straining eyes, but she made no sound. The next instant Olga had turned and was pulling her swiftly back to the beach.

"There! You see it didn't hurt you," she said brusquely, but never before had she looked at Elizabeth as she looked at her then. "Now run to the bathhouse and rub yourself hard before you dress," she ordered.

But Elizabeth had turned again towards the water, and Olga followed, amazed and protesting.

"Go back," cried Elizabeth over her shoulder, "go back. I'm going in alone this time."

And alone she went until once more the water surged and rippled about her neck. Only an instant--then she swayed and her eyes closed; but before she could lose her footing Olga's hands were on her shoulders and pushing her swiftly back to the beach. This time, however, she did not stop there, but swept the small figure over to the bathhouse. There she gave Elizabeth a brisk rubdown that set the blood dancing in her veins.

"Now get into your clothes in a hurry!" she commanded.

"I'm--n-not c-cold, Olga," Elizabeth protested with a pallid smile, "truly I'm not. I'm just n-nervous, I guess."

"You're just a _brick_, Elizabeth Page!" cried Olga, and she slammed the door and vanished, leaving Elizabeth glowing with delight.

Each day after that Elizabeth insisted on venturing a little more. Olga could guess what it cost her--her blue lips and the terror in her eyes told that--but day after day she fought her battle over and would not be worsted. She learned to float, to tread water, and then, very, very slowly, she learned to swim a little. Laura, looking on, rejoiced over both the girls. Everybody was interested in this marvellous achievement of the Poor Thing--they spoke of her less often by that name now--but only Laura realised how much it meant to Olga too. The day that Elizabeth succeeded in swimming a few yards, Olga for the first time took her out on the water at sunset; she had never been willing to go before. Even now she stepped into the boat shrinkingly, the colour coming and going in her cheeks, but when she was seated, and the boat floating gently on the rose-tinted water, the tense lines faded slowly from her face, and at last she even smiled a little.

"Well," said Olga, "are you still scared?"

"A little--but not much. If I wasn't any afraid it would be lovely--like rocking in a big, big beautiful cradle," she ended dreamily.

A swift glance assured Olga that they had drifted away from the other boats--there was no one within hearing. She leaned forward and looked straight into the eyes of the other girl. "Now I want to know what made you get over your fear of the water," she said.

"Maybe I've not got over it--quite," Elizabeth parried.

"What made you? Tell me!" Olga's tone was peremptory.

"You," said Elizabeth.

"I? But I didn't--I couldn't. I'd done my best, but I couldn't drag you into water above your knees--you know I couldn't. Somebody else did it," Olga declared, a spark flickering in her eyes.

"Miss Laura talked to me that day you were off so long in the boat," Elizabeth admitted. "She told me I could get over being afraid. I didn't think I _could_ before--truly, Olga. I honestly thought I'd die if ever the water came up to my neck. I don't know how she did it--Miss Laura--but she made me see that I could get over being so awfully afraid--and I did."

"You said _I_ did it," there was reproach as well as jealousy now in Olga's voice, "and it was Miss Laura."

"O no, it was you really," Elizabeth cried hastily, "because I did it for you. I never could have--never in this world!--only Miss Laura said it would please you. I did it for you, Olga."

"Hm," was Olga's only response, but now there was in her eyes something that the Poor Thing had never seen there before--a warm human friendliness that made Elizabeth radiantly happy.

"There comes the war canoe," Olga cried a moment later.

"How fast it comes--and how pretty the singing sounds!" Elizabeth returned.

They watched the big canoe as it flashed by, the many paddles rising and falling as one, while a dozen young voices sang gaily,

"'We pull long, we pull strong, We pull keen and true. We sing to the king of the great black rocks, Through waters we glide like a long-tailed fox.'"

"Next year," said Olga, "I'm going to teach you to paddle, Elizabeth."

VII

HONOURS WON

The camp was to break up in a few days, and the Guardians had planned to make the last Council Fire as picturesque and effective as possible--something for the girls to hold as a beautiful memory through the months to come. It fell on a lovely evening, a cool breeze blowing from the water, and a young moon adding a golden gleam to the silvery shining of the stars. Most of the girls had finished their ceremonial dresses and all were to be worn to-night.

"I'm ridiculously excited, Anne," Laura said, as she looked down at her woods-brown robe with its fringes and embroideries. "I don't feel a bit as if I were prosaic Laura Haven. I'm really one of the nut-brown Indian maids that roamed these woods in ages past."

"If any of those nut-brown maids were as pretty as you are to-night, they must have had all the braves at their feet," returned Anne, with an admiring glance at her friend. "What splendid thick braids you have, Laura!"

"I'm acquainted with the braids," Laura answered, flinging them carelessly over her shoulders, "but this beautiful bead headband I've never worn before. Is it on right?"

"All right," Anne replied. "The Busy Corner girls will be proud of their Guardian to-night."

Laura scarcely heard, her thoughts were so full of her girls--the girls she had already learned to love. She turned eagerly as the bugle notes of the Council call rang out in silvery sweetness. "O, come. Don't let them start without us," she urged.

"No danger--they will want their Guardians to lead the procession."

In a moment Mrs. Royall appeared, and quickly the girls fell into line behind her. First, the four Guardians; then two Torch Bearers, each holding aloft in her right hand a lighted lantern. Flaming torches would have been more picturesque, but also more dangerous in the woods, and all risk of fire must be avoided. After the Torch Bearers came the Fire Makers, and last of all the Wood Gatherers, with Katie the cook wearing a gorgeous robe that some of the girls had embroidered for her. Katie's unfailing good nature had made her a general favourite in camp.

As the procession wound through the irregular woods-path Laura gave a little cry of delight.

"O, do look back, Anne--it is so pretty," she said. "If it wasn't that I want to be a part of it, I'd run ahead so I could see it all better."

Mrs. Royall began to sing and the girls instantly caught up the strain, and in and out among the trees the procession wound to the music of the young voices, the lanterns throwing flashes of light on either side, while the shadows seemed to slip out of the woods and follow "like a procession of black-robed nuns," Laura said to herself.

The Council chamber was a high open space, surrounded on every side but one by tall pines. The open side faced the bay, and across the water glimmered a tiny golden pathway from the moon in the western sky, where a golden glow from the sunset yet lingered.