The Outdoor Girls in a Winter Camp Page 6

  CHAPTER VI

  PREPARATIONS

  "How many dresses are you going to take?"

  "I wonder if we ought to bring along something for evening wear?"

  "Anyhow we want something warm."

  "And what about shoes--or boots? How would it do to wear leggings, likethe boy scouts?"

  "I'm sure we won't want anything like evening dresses. Where could wewear them up in the wilderness?"

  "Why, perhaps there may be a lumbermen's dance."

  "Oh, listen to Mollie! As if we'd go!"

  "Why not? Of course we could go if we had a chaperone," and Mollie, whohad proposed this, looked rather defiantly at her chums.

  The other foregoing remarks had been shot back and forth so quickly, insuch zig-zag fashion, that it was difficult to tell who said which; inmany cases the authors themselves being hardly able to identify theirverbal creations.

  The girls were at the home of Grace, discussing, as they had been doingever since it was practically decided that they were to go to camp, whatthey should take, and what to wear. It was far from being settled yet.

  "Well, I'm sure of one thing," remarked Grace, "and that is that, as Amysays, we ought to have at least two warm cloth dresses."

  "An extra skirt, too, would be no harm," added Betty. "If we go out indeep snow the skirt is sure to get wet, and then we could change oncoming in."

  "Yes, I think that would be wise," admitted Mollie. "I am almost temptedto wear--bloomers!"

  "Mollie Billette!"

  "I don't care," and she spoke defiantly. "More and more girls are comingto wear them. Why, if we wear them in the school gym. I don't see anyharm in using them when we go camping."

  "But up there--where we may meet a lot of rough lumbermen, who wouldn'tunderstand--I'd like it, really I would," confessed Betty. "But I guesswe'd better not. It's different here, and at school."

  "Yes, I guess it is," admitted Mollie with a sigh. "But we can wearskirts of a sensible length, and leggings. I'm glad we thought ofthose. They'll be much more comfortable than boots, and not so heavy.But what about a light dress? Do you think we'd have any use for one?There's no use taking along a lot of clothes we won't wear."

  "That's right," said Grace. "I spoke to papa about it, and he said thatwhile there were often little affairs among the lumbermen and theresidents up there, they never thought of wearing light clothes inwinter. They'd think it queer if we did, and went to any of the parties.So let's don't bother with our fancy duds."

  "Good!" cried Betty. "We'll be real outdoor girls, and dress as such.Well, so much is settled. I'll make a note of that," and she proceededto set down the facts agreed to.

  "Let me see," she mused, "what's this?" and she frowned over somecabalistic marks on her paper.

  "Can't you read your own writing?" asked Amy with a smile.

  "Well, it looks like 'hats,' but I'm sure I didn't mean that. We settledthat we'd wear Tam-o'-Shanter affairs, or caps, so it can't be hats. Oh,I have it. It's 'eats'--what are we going to do about food?"

  "Papa says," spoke Grace, "that we can get lots of canned stuff upthere. The store that used to supply the lumbermen is open. And we cansend some cases of things from here. We can get fresh meat three times aweek, and eggs from the farmers when they have any. So make a note ofthat, Little Captain."

  "I will. But, as I understand it, the lumbermen have all left yourfather's camp now--it's in the hands of a receiver. Maybe the store willclose."

  "No, father said the country people depend on that store for theirthings. It wasn't just a camp grocery. It will be all right."

  "Well, that settles the two important items of food and clothing,"remarked Betty, checking them off on her list. "Of course we'll have todo considerable ordering, and decide on what variety we want to take,but that can be done later.

  "Next, let me see what is next--oh, yes, how are we going to get to thecamp--walk, ride, or----"

  "Skate!" interrupted Mollie. "Why can't we skate there? It isn't so veryfar."

  "And drag our baggage and sandwiches along behind us on sleds?" askedBetty.

  "Too much work," declared Amy. "Let's hire a sled, get up a straw rideand go in style."

  "Oh, say, what about Mr. Jallow? Do you think he will make trouble upthere?" inquired Amy, glancing rather apprehensively at Grace. "Youknow you said your father told you about his beginning to cut timberand----"

  "Oh, we needn't worry about that," declared Grace with confidence. "Thestrip in dispute is far enough from the camp."

  "Isn't it mean to have even that little worry, when it seemed as ifeverything was going to be so nice?" murmured Mollie. "And that AliceJallow! I met her and Kittie on the street yesterday afternoon and Ijust cut them both--dead."

  "Mollie, you never did!" cried gentle Amy.

  "Yes I did, and I'll do it again. I guess they were surprised, for Iheard them chattering like two--two crows--when I passed on."

  "Serves them right--the way they talked about Amy," exclaimed Grace.

  "Oh, but I don't want you girls to get into trouble on my account--tofight my--my battles for me," faltered Amy. "It is unpleasant enough asit is, without making it worse."

  "Now don't you worry, little one," said Betty soothingly. "We can lookafter ourselves, and I'd like to know why we should not break a lance ortwo in your behalf."

  "Of course!" cried Mollie.

  "You're a member of our club," declared Grace, "and club members muststand up for each other."

  "Certainly," agreed Betty. "I don't like quarrels any more than yougirls do, but I do think that Alice Jallow ought to know that we resentwhat she said."

  "Oh, she knows it all right!" exclaimed Mollie. "I took good care thatshe should! She's a regular--cat. No other word expresses what I mean,and I don't care if it isn't a nice thing to say about a girl. Shedeserves it."

  Amy flushed and looked troubled.

  "Don't let's talk about it," suggested Betty quickly, catching anappealing glance from her little chum. "We all know there isn't theleast foundation for it, any more than there was at first, and that's anold story."

  "Oh, yes, there is a little more basis for it," said Amy in a low voice,and with a hasty look around.

  "There is?" cried Betty, before she thought. "Oh, I didn't mean that!"she added quickly. "Don't tell us--unless it will make you feel better,Amy."

  "It will, I think. I have been going to ever since the day Alice hurt meso, but I couldn't seem to come to it. But of late there has been achange in--in Mr. and Mrs. Stonington."

  "Don't you call them Uncle and Aunt any more?" asked Grace in a lowvoice.

  "I do to their faces--yes, but I don't think of them that way," andAmy's voice faltered.

  "Why?" Betty wanted to know.

  "Because, by the merest accident, I found the other day, a piece ofpaper in--in Mr. Stonington's desk. I had read it before I realized itand it intimated that a mistake had been made in assuming that theenvelope pinned on my dress, when I was rescued from the flood, wasreally intended to be on me. In that case Mr. and Mrs. Stonington wouldbe no relation to me."

  "But if the envelope with their names and address on it was found onyou, why shouldn't it refer to you?" asked Mollie.

  "Because there were _two_ babies rescued in that flood."

  "Two babies?" It was a general chorus of surprise from the three girls.

  "Yes. I was one. There was another. A man saved both of us, and set uson an improvised raft. He found the envelope lying loose near us, and asit was nearer to me he pinned it on my dress, assuming that it had comefrom my sleeve. But it may have been on the other baby."

  "How did this become known?" asked Grace.

  "Through this man. It seems that some newspaper reporter, on theanniversary of the flood in Rocky Ford--that's where I was found--thisreporter wrote up the former incidents about it. He interviewed severalwho had made rescues, and this man was one. He told of having found twobabies, and one paper. I know Mr. and Mrs. Stonington, who read th
isaccount, must have had their doubts about me raised anew, for Ioverheard them talking very earnestly about it."

  "Poor Amy!" sighed Grace.

  "Yes, it's dreadful not to know who you are," said Amy, with a rathercheerless smile. "But I am getting used to it now. It did hurt, though,to hear what Alice said about it that day."

  "I should think so--the mean thing!" snapped Mollie, her quick temper onthe verge of rising.

  "But I know, no matter what happens, that Mr. and Mrs. Stonington willalways care for me," Amy went on. "If it were not for that I don't knowwhat I'd do. Now let's talk of something else--something more pleasant."

  "Oh, this isn't unpleasant for us!" Betty hastened to assure her chum."Only of course we know how you must feel about it. If we could onlyhelp you in some way!"

  "I'm afraid you can't," said Amy softly. "It's good of you, though."

  "It's like one of those queer puzzle stories, that end with a bump, inthe middle, and leave you guessing--like 'The Lady or the Tiger,'"asserted Mollie. "I can't bear them. I get to thinking of the solutionin the night and it sets me wild."

  "Yes, it is like that," agreed Amy gently. "But I don't see how it canever be known on which baby the envelope belonged."

  "What became of the other baby?" asked Grace.

  "I never heard, and the man who rescued me did not know either,"answered Amy. "He turned us both over to the relief authorities, and,assuming that I belonged to Mr. and Mrs. Stonington, because of theiraddress on the envelope, on my sleeve, they sent for--for my uncle, as Isuppose I ought to call him, though he may not be--and he has kept meever since."

  "But there is just as much chance that you were the baby on whom thepaper was pinned, as to think that you were not," came somewhatpositively from Betty.

  "Yes, I suppose so," Amy agreed. "But, please, let's talk about goingcamping. I want to forget that I may be a--nobody."

  "You'll never be that, Amy--to us!" declared Mollie, positively.

  "Thank you, dear."

  "The question still to be settled," broke in Betty, determined to changethe conversation, "is how are we to go to camp. Shall we skate or sledor----"

  "Ice boat!" cried the voice of Will Ford at the door. "Ladies, excuseme, but I have arrived at a most propitious time, I observe. I overheardwhat you said. Allow me to suggest--an ice boat!"

  They looked at him with rather startled glances, and he added:

  "Shall I explain?"

  "As it seems to be an unguessable riddle--do," urged his sister. "Didyou bring any chocolates?"

  "I did."

  "Pay as you enter," said Mollie, laughingly.