Camp conqueror

Front matter

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Contents

. Ups anp Downs

. Tue CENTER OF THE PicTURE . Tue First Councit Fire

. ‘Tae Four FEATHERS’

Chapter I Camp Conqueror And Jill

‘Train for the North! All aboard,’ called the conductor warningly. He stood, waiting patiently, while the noise grew louder still. This was not the first time his train had carried the special cars for Camp Conqueror and he was quite used to the hubbub which marked the departure of the campers. Perhaps he even liked it, for he smiled in a paternal fashion at the eager, happy young girls swarming into the coaches.

What a babel of voices! Good-byes were shouted by the cautious ones, who had already secured their seats, to envious friends who had come down to the station to see them off; loud greetings marked the meeting of campers who had hitherto been unable to find each other because of the crowd; shrill welcomings were cried as late arrivals forced a way through the groups of relatives standing by steps and windows determined to give one last piece of advice about the dangers of too much swimming.

The ten minutes’ grace ticked by quietly on the conductor’s big fat watch.

‘All aboard,’ he cried again and raised his hand for the inexorable signal.

‘Wait, wait!’ shrilled twenty protesting feminine voices.

He wheeled sharply and his eyes followed theirs.

A green-frocked, hatless girl was sprinting down the platform, her legs twinkling in a speed that put to shame the efforts of the Red Cap following with her bag.

The engine gave a preliminary snort and a quiver ran through the coaches; the campers leaned further out of the windows and freely speculated as to whether she’d make it.

Another jerk!

A—ah! Well run!

The conductor gave the signal, took the bag from the Red Cap and swung it and himself up the steps after this thoughtless young person who had dared to keep the train for the North a full thirty seconds beyond scheduled time.

The late-comer smiled ingratiatingly into those stern gray eyes.

‘I’m frightfully sorry,’ she said earnestly. “And you are always so punctual, aren’t you? Daddy told me. It was kind of you to wait. You see, I forgot my tennis racquet and it’s a specially nice one, so I just had to go back. Thank you very much.’

‘Are you Wilhelmina Grier?’ asked a brisk voice from the platform of the car.

“Yes,” said the green-frocked one, mounting the steps. “But please don’t ever again—I mean, nobody calls me anything but Jill. I forgot that Dad would write my luggage labels that way. It’s a terribly long name, isn’t it, even if it does belong to a perfectly nice grandmother.’

‘lll match you with another grandmother’s name, Barbara, shortened to Babs — Babs Forsythe,’ said the tall, capable-looking girl who was holding the club-bag. ‘Come in, and we'll find a seat for you. You must be hot after that run.’

Inside the coach there was still a babel of laughter and talk; but numerous conversations hung suspended for a moment while bright eyes followed the tall counselor and the new young camper, who would probably be a wonder in a hundred-yard dash, but who was looking the least bit shy now as she discovered that she was being subjected to a polite and friendly scrutiny.

‘Here’s a seat,’ said her guide, halting beside a very pretty girl. ‘Lo, Gay, anybody claim this place? May I introduce Wilhelmina Grier, Grace Russell? How many years have you been at Conqueror, Gay?...I thought so. ... Well, three years’ experience ought to make you a good guide for Wilhel — Jill, I mean. You might keep an eye on her, just in case she feels she must have another race with the train.’

‘Did you plan to escape all the good-byes?’ asked the pretty girl, smiling in the friendliest fashion at Jill and helping her stow away her bag, her coat, and her tennis racquet.

‘Not exactly,’ answered Jill, her shining hazel eyes noting how unusually lovely her companion looked when she smiled. ‘Though I hate being kissed in a crowd, don’t you? Mum and Dad left for Niagara Falls an hour before I did and I forgot my racquet. It was too bad of me, wasn’t it?’

“Yes,” said Gay instantly. ‘No, I mean.’ A dimple deepened in one pretty cheek. There was something very persuasive, she decided, about this newcomer’s voice, and that odd little questioning inflection made one want to agree with her at once.

‘Do you want to read?’ asked Jill, looking at the magazine on her companion’s lap, ‘or may I ask about the camp? I didn’t know I was coming until the day before yesterday and I wasn’t very keen

— about it for I thought I was going with Aunt Alice and the girls to Kennebec Point. Mum decided not, quite suddenly, and remembered that she knew Miss Moore, and Miss Moore had a vacancy. Wasn't it lucky?’

“You were very fortunate,’ said Gay impressively. ‘There’s a long waiting-list, for Miss Moore doesn’t want Camp to be any larger than it is. she thinks eighty is just the right number.’

Gay’s tone implied several things: that Jill must remember that she was only a new camper and very young at that, probably not more than fourteen, that she herself was sixteen, going on seventeen, was often taken for seventeen in fact, that what Miss Moore considered a right number was a right number, and that Camp Conqueror was the camp and much to be desired above such ordinary places as Kennebec Point where any one might go.

Jill ‘got’ it all and said apologetically, ‘You see, I don’t know a single thing about Camp Conqueror. Some of the older girls at York Hill went, but I’ve been away from school a year — appendicitis, and Florida, and Atlantic City — so I’m out of touch with things. Are there any York girls coming?’

‘Not that I know of: that tall girl with the smooth black hair is Lorry Reynolds of Saint Mary’s School, Montreal, and the one with the blue hat beside her is from New York, and those two youngsters in front are new, twins, from some place on Long Island —the fair-haired, blueeyed girl across the aisle is Gertrude Gilroy of Quebec. I met her first at Murray Bay where we have a summer cottage. There are quite a number of Toronto girls in the next coach; perhaps you'll find some friends there. Come and be introduced to this lot first.’

Jill was thrilled to be going about the coach under the wing of such a wonderful person as Gay Russell. Her guide was very popular, judging by the alacrity with which room was made for her on the arms of chairs, and the promptness with which chocolates were offered for her delectation. Jill wasn’t surprised at this. Anybody with such deep blue eyes, such golden hair, such a gay smile, and such a delicious dimple, was bound to be very popular. And wasn’t it nice of her to be so charming and friendly to a newcomer!

“We'll ask Babs if there are any York Hill girls aboard,’ said Gay when they had reached their own seat again. ‘Babs is one of our counselors, you know: she’s a good sort. She and I swam across the lake together last summer.’

“You did!’ Jill looked her astonishment and admiration, and Gay couldn’t resist adding, ‘Yes, I got my Blue for it.’

Jill’s eyes asked for an explanation of this remark and Gay, nothing loath, proceeded:

“You see, we're divided into four groups for swimming by the colors of the caps we wear, white for beginners who can’t swim beyond their depth, then, red, yellow, and blue according to what we can do. And if one can win a blue cap it means a credit point for the whole tribe, so of course I was awfully pleased. There are four tribes, too, Crees, Blackfeet, Chickasaws and Ojibways.’

‘And which tribe do you belong to?’ asked Jill eagerly.

‘Oh, I’m an Ojibway.’

‘Then I'll be one too — that is, if you don’t mind.’

Gay smiled graciously at this artless compliment. |

‘You don’t decide yourself,’ she said quickly. ‘One of the tribes will call you at the initiation ceremony. It’s a very solemn affair, I can tell you.’

Jill’s cheeks were very pink by this time. What a horrible faux pas!

‘Seems to be my bad day,’ she said apologetically, and sighed. ‘But I often have them, I’m afraid.’

‘Oh, you'll find out all about things in no time,’ said Gay, picking up her magazine. ‘And you’ll be just as keen as the rest of us, I can promise you that.’

Jill opened her book, ‘The Four Feathers,’ and went back to the hero whom she had left on the point of redeeming, by a very brave deed, one of the white feathers which had been sent him because of an act of cowardice; she had been very anxious that he should succeed, but her attention wandered now. Egypt seemed a long way off, and here, right beside her, was a wonderful person who was not afraid to swim right across a lake, and Lorry, down the aisle, loved to dive, had said she’d rather take a dive from the high ladder than do anything else in the world! Think of it! She herself would rather die at once than plunge headfirst into deep water. She hated deep water — hated it — and feared it....And it was horrible to be afraid. Gay would probably despise her if she knew.

‘I can’t read either,’ said Gay, suddenly closing her magazine. ‘I wonder where Babs is. I want to ask her if she knows about the cabins for this year. I want to be in the Pagoda with Lorry and Betsy. By the way, I expect you'll be called Jilly.

We tacked a “‘y”’ on every one’s name last year. I struck at “‘Gracey,” however, and ‘‘Babby” would have been too ridiculous. I wish we could think of something new.’

“Why don’t you have Indian names?’ suggested Jill.

‘Too much trouble,’ said Gay lazily, ‘they’re too long.’

‘Well — what about monosyllables — as we had at school in our crowd — Jan and Jo and Jay.’ Jill’s eyes danced. ‘And Gertrude, Gee. O Gee!’

The two laughed and Gay promptly hailed Lorry and Gertrude and explained the proposition.

‘Sounds good to me,’ said Lorry. ‘I wonder if we could get a monosyllable for everybody?’

‘If we were stuck we might have letters of the alphabet like Em, and Bee and Dee,’ said Jill.

‘Bright idea!’ said Lorry heartily, looking with increased interest at Jill. “Wouldn’t it be fun if we could add a verse to one of the songs at supper and let them know their new names right away! Who’s got a pencil?’

Jill produced one from her purse, and a small notebook.

‘We'll be sure to sing, “I wish I was a fish,”’’ suggested Gertrude. ‘Why don’t you try that one?’

‘I wish I was a fish [hummed Gay],

I wish I was a fish,

I'd sail and sail in the deep blue sea, I wish I was a fish.

Huh! I think that’s rather a hard one. What about “‘Are you a camel and have you got a hump?” No, that’s harder. You’re not trying, Lor.’

‘Have a new name, dear *T will do just as well, dear,’

sang Lorry after a moment’s concentration. ‘Silly, isn’t it? We'll miss Molly dreadfully this year: she could always think up a good rhyme. I don’t see who'll write the songs for our tribe now.’

“There’s Babs,’ said Gertrude. ‘Let’s go and ask about the cabins.’

Jill retrieved her notebook after Gay’s hasty departure and sucked the end of the pencil thoughtfully. That first song had an easy rhythm. What would be good names to use as end rhymes? AImost unconsciously she jotted down— name, Jane, Dee, Gee, Tee tum, tee tum, tee tum. Wouldn’t it be fun to write a rhyme for Gay!

She was still frowning and humming her stanza to see if it scanned when Gay returned, leaned over her shoulder to read the lines, and called to Gertrude to come and hear them:

‘Your names are far too long; They do not sound quite neat; To say them seems such a waste of time, So change them — tout de suite.’

chanted Gay softly.

‘Everybody won’t know the French for “immediately,” but never mind that,’ said Gertrude laughing.

‘The second verse is better,’ chuckled Gay. ‘Look — ‘‘monosyllabic gem,” that’s quite good, isn’t it ?’

‘Let’s sing it to-night,’ she continued. ‘We'll give everybody a surprise. You come to our table, Jill. Who else had we better have, Gee? Betsy has a good voice, let’s go and ask her. Don’t forget, Jill, you’re to come to supper with me.’

Forget! As if Jill could! Wasn’t she the luckiest girl to be invited to sit with two such wonderful people! Just for a few minutes’ work. Rhymes were as easy as easy. Gay could have done it much better if she had waited. Perhaps Gay would let her do some more for her tribe.

She looked so blissfully happy that one of the twins who was facing her now, smiled sympathetically. A nice smile, Jill decided, and nice twinkly bright eyes; but her sister looked a bit forlorn. Had any one been looking after the twins? She’d seen

Gertrude talking to them, and Babs, but perhaps they were frightened of Babs. After all she was a counselor and her voice was very brisk. She herself was more their size, though of course she was much, much, older.

‘I’m a new camper too, Jill Grier by name,’ she said, crossing the aisle and sitting on the arm of the twins’ seat. ‘I hardly know anything about Camp Conqueror, but some one has just been telling me about the colors of the bathing caps we’ll wear and the names of the tribes we'll belong to. Did you know that the campers call Miss Moore, Big Chief? And they all think she’s a splendid sort of person. I’m getting very anxious to see her, aren't you?’

‘Tribes? Do you mean tribes of Indians?’ asked the bright-eyed twin suddenly. ‘Will you be in the same camp as us? Who was the pretty girl beside you? What about the bathing caps? Why is Miss Moore called a chief? Is she really a chief? Are there truly wild animals around the camp? Do we sleep outside in a tent?’

All this in one breath, or at most, two. The questions came popping out so quickly that Jill laughingly declared they’d have to start all over again, and first, would they tell her their names.

‘This is Eunice, and I’m Abigail,’ said the latter young person with a slightly dampened air. She evidently didn’t like her name.

“Too long for a summer camp, I fear,’ answered Jill, shaking her head. ‘We are all going to have names of one syllable only. What would you like to be called... let me see. How about Pop, because your questions popped out? And Eunice could be Pip.’

‘Dandy,’ said Abigail emphatically, giving a joyous bounce. She seemed to be the spokesman. ‘Did we ask too many questions? We should like to know about the tribes. Will there be Indians all around us?’ |

Eunice’s eyes interrogated Jill eagerly, though she said nothing, and Jill answered all the questions one by one to the best of her ability, told them about the rhyme she had made for Gay, and left them feeling very proud because they were in the secret and already had their new names.

Jill had just settled back in her own chair and was deciding that it must be nearly time for luncheon when she heard some one behind her say: ‘Have I the honor of addressing Miss Wilhelmina Grier, late of York Hill School?’

Jill whirled about. ‘Judy!’ she cried. ‘Oh, Judy! It’s too good to be true! Are you coming with us? Are you a camper? A counselor? Judy, what gorgeous luck!’

‘I didn’t guess that “‘W. Grier” was the Jill I knew at school,’ said Judith, emerging slightly disheveled from an impetuous ‘bear’ hug. ‘But I see you’re the same old Jilly, racing trains and forgetting racquets and such. Time never was anything in your young life if I remember rightly.’

Jill grinned affectionately.

‘Don’t be too hard on me, Judy. I’m going to learn at Camp to be all the things I ought to be and ain’t. I’m just full of good resolutions. You haven’t told me if you’re really a camper?’

‘Yes, I was there last season and I’m very proud that Big Chief asked me to come back as a counselor. You'll love it, Jilly.’

‘Anybody I know on board?’ asked Jill eagerly. ‘Is Jan here?’

‘IT don’t think so,’ said Judith. ‘There was some talk of her coming, I believe, but she’s not on the train list, certainly. But you'll make any number of new friends. It’s the friendliest place.’

‘Yes, I know that already,’ said Jill happily. ‘Gay has been lovely to me all morning; everybody has, but it’s nice to have an old friend to start with, isn’t it?’

‘You’re right,’ said Judith promptly. “Don’t

I just wish I had Joy or Chris here! Now, what do you want to know about Camp? You’ll love Big Chief, Jilly; she’s something like Miss Meredith at school, but of course she’s much younger, jolly and happy like one of us, and fair to everybody, and understanding — you’ll see that in her eyes — she’s got the most interesting eyes.’

‘Judy, do you like looking at people’s eyes too? Aren’t they the most romantic, exciting things — and trying to guess about them and never being sure — well, only sometimes, and then it’s lovely!’

‘Jilly, what a lamb you are!’ Judith smiled affectionately at Jill’s incoherence. ‘Please remember that it’s hot — or at least that I’m hot — and that my poor old brain can’t work as quickly as yours. Yes, I know what you mean — it is nice to be sure of some people. Big Chief is one of them — no doubt about that!’

‘Judy, I want to be an Ojibway, terribly. What could I do?’ Jill’s voice was low and urgent.

Judith smiled again. Jill was funny, always so much in earnest about everything.

‘Oh, I don’t know,’ she said lightly. ‘Depends on what’s the latest fad. Last year diving was the fashion and divers were most sought after of all the braves. There’s the porter with “First call to luncheon.’ I must be off to my own coach.’

Diving! Jill’s face fell. How horrid! How mean! Diving! Was there no other way to prove one’s self a brave warrior? She must ask Gay.

Jill had been the last one into the coach as they left Toronto, and she was one of the first out when they reached the little station on the shores of the Lac du Conquérant. Would Big Chief really be as nice as Judy had said?

There were several figures in the trim camp uniform of cool green linen on the platform, but Jill’s quick glance found Big Chief at once, and as she was warmly welcomed she looked right into those eyes Judy had told her about. She nodded her head as she watched the slight figure being almost overwhelmed by the tumultuous greetings of her big family. Judy was right; one could be certain of understanding from Big Chief; her eyes were kind and — sure. She must find another word for that.

Her companions had proved so interesting on the journey that Jill had paid little attention to the country through which the express train had passed so swiftly. Now she turned and looked about her and at the first glance uttered an involuntary exclamation of surprise and joy. The scene which lay before her was so unlike anything that she had ever seen, that she might almost have stepped into a new world.

‘Pretty nice, eh?’ asked Judith, stopping for a moment beside Jill.

‘Nice, Judy? It’s — it’s gorgeous! Why didn’t you tell me how lovely it was! I’ve seen woods and forests before now, but nothing like these trees... . They’re so big — and their tops look solid enough to walk on, they’re so close together — and they seem to stretch for miles and miles.’

‘They do,’ laughed Judith. ‘Miles and miles and miles! You are looking, mademoiselle, into one of the greatest of forest reserves — I forget how many thousand square miles of virgin forest — and how many hundred lakes — none of them lovelier than our own little Lac du Conquérant. Isn’t it a beautiful blue! It’s luck, the station being on a height so you can see over the tree-tops.’

‘Where is the camp from here?’ asked Jill eagerly.

‘Across this end of the lake,’ answered Judith, picking up a couple of bags which lay stranded on the platform. ‘You can see the stone chimney of the Hall — there — and there are farms, pioneer farms, on that side — Thanks, Jilly, take them over to that big wagon yonder, and I'll gather in some more.’

A long string of farm wagons, motors, and hay-carts was drawn up on the other side of the station and to them the campers were already busily carrying their luggage.

The campers seemed to be on the friendliest terms with the sunburned, sturdy-looking farmers who had taken a holiday to drive in — some of them from long distances — to help Miss Moore transport her big family to the camp, some seven or eight miles distant.

There was a great buzz of conversation and hearty greetings. It was: ‘Hello, Mr. Simpson! How’s Dot? Has she read them all? That’s splendid!’ and, ‘Mr. Soanes, how is Peggy? Can she really walk?’ and, ‘Give my love to everybody, Mr. Macdonald, please. Bring them all to see us soon.’

‘We have a picnic every summer for the children who live about here,’ explained Gee, who found Jill standing beside her. ‘And we each adopt one of them for Christmas time. My little girl, Susan, is such a lamb, but lame. Uncle Bob is curing her. We had her down to the city for a month last winter.’

‘Come on in the hay-rack,’ called Gay, who dashed past at this moment. ‘We're starting first.’

Jill and Gee had just time to scramble in, and away went the cart along a narrow, sandy road which wound through the forest.

Hay-carts do not boast springs, and the road was none too smooth, but nobody minded the bumps and the bounces, and the driver was urged to “put on speed.’

Chipmunks and chickadees fled before the laughter and babel of talk; balsam and pointed fir growing close on either side of the road filled the air with delicious fragrance. Oh, how good this air smelt and tasted!

The road dipped into a valley, a dim, quiet retreat, climbed around a heavily wooded hill, and entered great, rustic gates which bore the legend, ‘Camp Conqueror.’

There was a great shouting as the gates were passed, and excitement mounted high as the road twisted and turned through the last long stretch of woodland, and then, there beyond the last bend, were the blue waters of the lake, and the comfortable-looking white camp buildings in full view with a group of counselors waving a welcome.

What a happy hubbub of greetings as each group arrived! How glad everybody was to be back again!

Then came a rush on the part of the knowing ones to the bulletin-board where the list of cabins was posted. Jill ran with the others, anxious to know her fate. Loud cries of delight and wails of disappointment greeted the reading of the lists. Jill was one of the jubilant ones as she saw: “The Wigwoo: Grace Russell, Wilhelmina Grier, Gertrude Gilroy.’ Gay made no attempt to conceal her disappointment.

‘I asked at the end of last summer to be in the Pagoda with Betsy and Lorry — it’s a dandy little place right next to the Senior Camp. If Betsy and Lorry are there, why do you suppose I’m not?’

‘Big Chief probably thought you’d have a bad influence on the Seniors,’ said Gertrude. ‘Cheer up. This isn’t bad: I always thought the Wigwoo had the nicest view! And we can call ourselves ““Wigwoos,” that’s nicer than “‘Pagodas.” “ Wigwoo” is Ojibway for “birch,” Judy says... . Glad you’re going to be with us, Jill. Got your bathing togs in your bag? Good, then let’s be the first into the water!’

Away they raced to one of the snug little rustic cabins on the hillside. Jill entirely agreed with Gertrude that the view was perfectly lovely and the cabin as cunning as could be, and her enthusiasm was so genuine and her laughter bubbled over so spontaneously that Gay’s ill-humor vanished as if by magic, and the three made such good time that

LOUD CRIES OF DELIGHT AND WAILS OF DISAPPOINT- MENT GREETED THE READING OF THE LISTS they were down on the beach before any one else.

A swimming instructress in her bathing suit was already on the dock ready to give out caps.

‘Here’s another candidate for a Blue, Miss Dunstan,’ said Gay wickedly, as she introduced Jill. ‘She’s a wonder for speed!’

‘But she prefers land,’ said Gertrude quickly, ‘and so do I, as you know, Dunsey dear.’

Miss Dunstan’s blue eyes twinkled merrily as she handed Jill a white cap, Gertrude a red, and Gay a blue one.

‘I wonder at your taste! But you'll improve,’ she said gayly, and then added iui a ‘Look what we’ve done with Gay!’

Gay grinned good-naturedly, ran out to the diving-ladder, poised, and shot down into the water with a swift, graceful flight.

‘Nice little dive,’ said Gertrude, not at all enviously. ‘Gay says I must get into the yellowcap class this season, for the honor of the Ojibways. I tell her there’s no “‘must” about it, but she’s a very fierce brave, and tries to bully me. O-o-h! Isn’t this water great!’

Jill, bobbing up and down and washing her face again and again agreed enthusiastically. Gertrude was a dear, she decided. She had the calmest blue eyes and the quietest voice. What a lot of people there were in Camp! All sorts and sizes. The noise was almost deafening now. Everybody was in the water laughing and shrieking at everybody else. But very happy and jolly. Wasn’t she the lucky girl to be able to get that vacancy! Oh, very lucky!

Supper was a gay meal that night. Every one confessed to a sudden and immediate Camp appetite, and certainly, the way in which chicken pie and hot muffins and fruit salad disappeared seemed to be a quite sufficient proof of the assertion. The prettily decorated tables were set in the big airy hall which was really like an out-of-doors diningroom, for the wooden shutters which formed its sides were never let down except in very stormy weather.

With the clearing away of the first course, songs were started by different enthusiasts and various favorites called for. Jill waited in great excitement until she heard the now familiar line, ‘I wish I was a fish,” and felt a thrill down to her toes as Gay gave a signal and the six who were in the secret sang Jill’s additional verses:

“Your names are far too long;

They do not sound quite neat;

To say them seems such a waste of time, So change them tout de suite.

“We wish you were called Jane

Or something short like Em,

We'd like you all to curtail your name To a monosyllabic gem. *There’s Pop and Pip and Jill, There's Gee and Gay and Pat,

There’s Lor and Bet — now get busy all. Make your name short like that.’

This effort was received with much laughter and applause and the singers were obliged to repeat the last stanza.

‘Not a bad idea,” was the general opinion, and the owners of difficult names which were not “quite neat’ sought advice from their neighbors as to the best way of turning theirs painlessly into a “‘monosyllabic gem.’

After supper the campers went back to their cabins to unpack and see that their uniforms were ready for the morning — some of the old campers were already in knickers — and then, as the sunset faded into a tender, rosy glow, in twos and threes they drifted into the Lodge where Miss Moore had invited them to come for games.

Gertrude — hereafter to be called Gee — and Gay had gone to visit Lorry at the Pagoda, so Jill went down the path by herself and joined a little group who were evidently on their way to the

24 CAMP CONQUEROR Lodge. The central point of interest in the big room was an immense fireplace built of rough-hewn granite brought from a near-by quarry. As often happens on these far northern lakes, the night was already chilly although the day had been warm and bright, so a cheerful fire of birch logs was crackling on the big open hearth. Every one was as friendly as possible, and the games were very evidently planned to help the new campers get acquainted. Jill’s bright eyes found any number of interesting faces that she wanted to know more about. But wouldn’t it have been lovely if Jan had been here?