Wyn's Camping Days Part 13

"I _do_ feel so funny," cried Percy, hopping into her own nest. "I can't curl my toes up in my nightgown--they stick right out at the bottom of these trousers!"

"And doesn't the gra.s.s tickle your feet?" cried Frank, dancing about between the cots. "My, my! this _is_ camping out in real earnest.

O-o-o! Here's a trickle of water running under the side of the tent, Wyn."

"You can thank your stars it isn't running through a hole in the tent right upon your heads," responded the captain. "Do get into bed, Frank."

Even Frank was quiet at last. The day had been a strenuous one. The muttering thunder in the distance lulled them to sleep. Soon the big white tent upon the knoll by the lake was silent save for the soft breathing of the girls and their chaperone.

And--odd as it may seem, considering the strangeness of their surroundings--all the girls slept soundly through the night. It was Wyn Mallory herself who first opened her eyes and knew, by the light outside, that it must be near sunrise.

Up she popped, stepping lightly over the cold gra.s.s so as not to arouse her mates and Mrs. Havel, and reached the opening. She peered through.

To the east the horizon was aglow with melting shades of pink, amber, turquoise and rose. The sun was coming!

Wyn snapped open the flap and ran out to welcome His Majesty. Then, however, she remembered that she was in pajamas, and glanced around swiftly to see if she was observed.

Not a soul was in sight. At that moment the first chorus of the feathered choir that welcomes the day in the wilds, had ceased. Silence had fallen upon the forest and upon the lake.

Only the lap, lap, lap of the little waves upon the sh.o.r.e was audible.

The wind did not stir the tree branches. There was a little chill in the air after the storm, and the ground was saturated.

Wyn was doubtful about that "early morning plunge" in the lake that she had heard the boys talk about, and which she had secretly determined to emulate. But the boys' camp was at the far end of Gannet Island and she could not see it at all. She wondered if Dave and his friends would plunge into that awfully cold-looking water on this chilly morning?

To a.s.sure herself that the water _was_ cold she ran down to where the canoes lay and poked one big toe into the edge of the pool. Ouch! it was just like ice!

"No, no!" whispered Wyn, and scuttled up the bank again, hugging herself tight in both arms to counteract the chill.

But she couldn't go back to bed. It was too beautiful a morning. And all the others were sleeping soundly.

Wyn decided that she would not awaken them. But she slipped inside, selected her own clothing, and in ten minutes was dressed. Then she ran down to the pool again, palmed the water all over her face, rubbing her cheeks and forehead and ears till they tingled, and then wiped dry upon the towel she had brought with her.

Another five minutes and her hair was braided Indian fas.h.i.+on, and tied neatly. Then the sun popped up--broadly agrin and with the promise in his red countenance of a very warm day.

"Good-morning, Mr. Sun!" quoth Wyn, dancing a little dance of her own invention upon the summit of the green knoll that overhung the lake before the tent. "I hope you give us a fine day, and that we all enjoy it."

With a final pirouette she ran back to the tent. Still Mrs. Havel and the others slept.

"What lazy folk!" she told them, in a whisper, and then caught up a six-quart pail and ran back through the open place and found the wood road that Polly had written her about.

She knew that to her left lay the way to the landing where Mr. Jarley kept his boats, and where their stores were under cover in a shed. But breakfast was the first consideration, and in the other direction lay Windmill Farm, at which Polly told her she had arranged for the Go-Aheads to get milk, fresh eggs, and garden vegetables.

So Wyn tripped along this right hand extension of the wood path and, within half an hour, came out of the forest upon the edge of the cleared farm. Before her lay sloping fields up, up, up to a high knoll, on the top of which stood a windmill, painted red.

The long arms of the mill, canvas-covered, rose much higher in the air than the gilt vane that glistened on the very peak of the roof. The rising sun shone full upon the windmill and made it a brilliant spot of color against the blue sky; but the wind was still and the sails did not cause the arms to revolve.

Just below the mill, upon the leisurely slope of the knoll, was set the white-painted farmhouse, with well-kept stables and out-buildings and poultry yards and piggery at the rear.

"What a pretty spot!" cried Wyn, aloud. "And the woods are so thick between it and the lake that one would never know it was here."

She hurried on, for she knew by the smoke rising from the house chimney and the bustle of sound from the barnyard that the farmer and his family were astir.

Before she reached the side porch a number of cows, one with a bell on her neck leading the herd, filed out through the side yard and took a lane for the distant pasture. Horses neighed for their breakfasts, the pigs squealed in their sties and there was a pretty young woman singing at the well curb as she drew a great, splas.h.i.+ng bucket of water.

"Oh! you're one of the girls Polly Jarley told us were coming to the lake to camp?" said the farmer's wife, graciously. "And did you get here in the storm last night? How do you all like it?"

"I can only answer for myself," declared Wyn, laughing. "They were all asleep when I came away. But I guess if we have nothing worse to trouble us than that shower we shall get along all right."

"You're a plucky girl--for a city one," said the woman. "Now, do you want milk and eggs?"

Wyn told her what she wanted, and paid for the things. Then she started back to camp, laden with the br.i.m.m.i.n.g milk pail and a basket which the farmer's wife had let her have.

The sun was now mounting swiftly in his course across the sky. Faintly she heard the sawmill at the Forge blowing a whistle to call the hands, and knew that it was six o'clock. She hurried her steps and reached the opening where the tent was pitched just as the first sleepy Go-Ahead was creeping out to see what manner of day it might be.

"For goodness' sake, Wyn Mallory!" cried this yawning nymph in blue pajamas. "Have you been up all night?"

"Aren't you cute in those things, Percy?" returned Wyn. "You look just like a doll in a store window. Come on and dress. It's time you were all up. Why! the day will be gone before you know it."

"Oh--ow--ouch!" yawned Percy, and then jumped quickly through the opening of the tent because Grace Hedges pushed her.

"Why! the sun's up!" cried the big girl. "Why! and there's Wyn with milk--and eggs--and pretty red radishes--and _peas_. Mercy me! Look at all the things in this basket. Whose garden have you been robbing, Wyn?"

"Come on!" commanded the captain of the Go-Ahead Club. "I brought a bag of meal in _my_ canoe. And there is salt, and aluminum bowls, and spoons. We can make a good breakfast of eggs and mush. Hurry up, all you lazy folk, and help get breakfast."

"O-o-o! isn't the gra.s.s cold!" exclaimed one girl who had just stepped out from between woolen blankets.

"I--I feel as though I were dressing outdoors," gasped another, with chattering teeth. "D-don't you suppose anybody can see through this tent?"

"Nonsense, goosey!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Frank. "Hurry up and get into your clothes. You take up more room than an elephant."

"Did you ever share a dressing room with an elephant, Frank?" demanded Bess.

"Not before," returned the thin girl, grimly. "But I am preparing for that experience when I try to dress in the same tent with Gracie."

But they were all eager to get outside when they sniffed the smoke of the campfire, and, a little later, the odor of eggs "frying in the pan."

Despite the saturated condition of most of the underbrush Wyn knew where to get dry wood for fuel, Dave had long ago taught her that bit of woodcraft.

With a small camp hatchet she had attacked the under branches of the spruce and low pine trees, and soon had a good heap of these dead sticks near the tent. She turned over a flat stone that lay near by for a hearth. Before the other girls and Mrs. Havel were dressed and had washed their faces at the lakeside, Captain Wyn was stirring mush in a kettle and frying eggs in pork fat in a big aluminum pan.

"Sunny side up; or with a veil of brown drawn over their beautiful faces, Frankie?" asked Wyn, referring to the sizzling eggs. "How do you like 'em?"

"I like 'em on toast--'Adam and Eve on a raft' Brother Ed calls 'em. And when he wants 'em scrambled he says, 'Wreck 'em!'"

"You'll get no toast this morning," declared Wyn. "You'll be satisfied with crackers--or go without."

"Cruel lady!" quoth Frank. "I expect I'll have to accept my yoke of eggs----"

"Only the _yolk_ of the eggs, Frank?"

"No, I mean the pair I want," laughed Frankie. "And I'll take 'em without the toast and--'sunny side up.'"