The Camp Fire Girls at Onoway House Part 9

"Oh, could we?" breathed Migwan. She was in the seventh heaven at the thought of being with Belle Mortimer so long. Then followed a day of delirious delight. To begin with, the Winnebagos were introduced to the whole company, many of whose names were familiar to them. Felix Larue, having gotten over the fright he had received when he thought the piece was going to be suppressed by the police for some unaccountable reason, was all smiles and amiability, and explained anything the girls wanted to know about. The piece was a very exciting one, full of thrilling incidents and danger, and the girls were held spellbound at the physical feats which some of those actors performed. The house on the raft was explained as the play progressed. It was filled with soldiers and towed up the river, to all appearances merely a garage being moved by its owner. But when a dispatch bearer of the enemy, whose family lived in the house, stopped to see them while he was carrying an important message, the soldiers rushed out from the garage, sprang ash.o.r.e, seized the man along with the message and carried him away in the launch, which had been cut away from the raft while the capture was being made. Migwan thought of the tame little plots she had written the winter before and was filled with envy at the creator of this stirring play.

It took a whole week to make the film of "The Honor of a Soldier" and in that time the girls saw a great deal of Miss Mortimer. And one blessed night she stayed at Onoway House with them, instead of motoring back to the city with the rest of the company. Just as Migwan was dying of admiration for her, so she was attracted by this dreamy-eyed girl with the lofty brow. In a confidential moment Migwan confessed that she had written several motion picture plays the winter before, all of which had been rejected. "Do you mind if I see them?" asked Miss Mortimer. Much embarra.s.sed, Migwan produced the ma.n.u.scripts, written in the form outlined in the book she had bought. Miss Mortimer read them over carefully, while Migwan awaited her verdict with a beating heart.

"Well?" she asked, when Miss Mortimer had finished reading them.

"Who told you to put them in this form?" asked Miss Mortimer.

"I learned it from a book," answered Migwan. "What do you think of them?" she asked, impatient for Miss Mortimer's opinion.

"The idea in one of them is good, very good," said Miss Mortimer. "This one called 'Jerry's Sister.' But you have really spoiled it in the development. It takes a person familiar with the production of a film to direct the movements of the actors intelligently. If Mr. Larue, for example, had developed that piece it would be a very good one. Would you be willing to sell just the idea, if Mr. Larue thinks he can use it?"

Migwan had never thought of this before. "Why, yes," she said, "I suppose I would. It's certainly no good to me as it is."

"Let me take it to Mr. Larue," said Miss Mortimer. "I'm sure he will see the possibilities in it just as I have." Migwan was in a transport of delight to think that her idea at least had found favor with Miss Mortimer. Miss Mortimer was as good as her word and showed the play to Mr. Larue and he agreed with her that it could be developed into a side-splitting farce comedy. Migwan was more intoxicated with that first sale of the labors of her pen than she was at any future successes, however great. Deeply inspired by this recognition of her talent, she evolved an exciting plot from the incidents which had just occurred, namely, the mistaking of the moving picture company for the Venoti gang.

She kept it merely in plot form, not trying to develop it, and Mr. Larue accepted this one also. After this second success, even though the price she received for the two plots was not large, the future stretched out before Migwan like a brilliant rainbow, with a pot of gold under each end.

Miss Mortimer soon discovered that the Winnebagos were a group of Camp Fire Girls, and she immediately had an idea. When "The Honor of a Soldier" was finished Mr. Larue was going to produce a piece which called for a larger number of people than the company contained, among them a group of Camp Fire Girls. He intended hiring a number of "supers"

for this play. "Why not hire the Winnebagos?" said Miss Mortimer. And so it was arranged. Medmangi and Nakwisi and Chapa, the other three Winnebagos, were notified to join the ranks, and excitement ran high. To be in a real moving picture! It is true that they had nothing special to do, just walk through the scene in one place and sit on the ground in a circle in another, but there was not a single girl who did not hope that her conduct on that occasion would lead Mr. Larue into hiring her as a permanent member of the company.

Especially Sahwah. The active, strenuous life of a motion picture actress attracted her more than anything just now. She longed to be in the public eye and achieve fame by performing thrilling feats. She saw herself in a thousand different positions of danger, always the heroine.

Now she was diving for a ring dropped into the water from the hand of a princess; now she was trapped in a burning building; now she was riding a wild horse. But always she was the idol of the company, and the idol of the moving picture audiences, and the envy of all other actresses.

She would receive letters from people all over the country and her picture would be in the papers and in the magazines, and her name would be featured on the colored posters in front of the theatres. Managers would quarrel over her and she would be offered a fabulous salary. All this Sahwah saw in her mind's eye as the future which was waiting for her, for since meeting Miss Mortimer she really meant to be a motion picture actress when she was through school. She felt in her heart that she could show people a few things when it came to feats of action. She simply could not wait for the day when the Winnebagos were to be in the picture. When the play was produced in the city theatres her friends would recognize her, and Oh joy!-here her thoughts became too gay to think.

The play in question was staged, not on the Centerville road, but in one of the city parks, where there were hills and formal gardens and an artificial lake, which were necessary settings. The day arrived at last.

News had gone abroad that a motion picture play was to be staged in that particular park and a curious crowd gathered to watch the proceedings.

Sahwah felt very splendid and important as she stood in the company of the actors. She knew that the crowd did not know that she was just in that one play as a filler-in; to them she was really and truly a member of this wonderful company-a real moving picture actress. Gazing over the crowd with an air of indifference, she suddenly saw one face that sent the blood racing to her head. That was Marie Lanning, the girl whom Sahwah had defeated so utterly in the basketball game the winter before, and who had tried such underhand means to put her out of the game.

Sahwah felt that her triumph was complete. Marie was just the kind of girl who would nearly die of envy to see her rival connected with anything so conspicuous.

The picture began; progressed; the time came for the march of the Camp Fire Girls down the steep hill. Sahwah stood straight as a soldier; the supreme moment had come. Now Mr. Larue would see that she stood out from all the other girls in ability to act; that moment was to be the making of her fortune. She glanced covertly at Marie Lanning. Marie had recognized her and was staring at her with unbelieving, jealous eyes.

The march began. Sahwah held herself straighter still, if that were possible, and began the descent. It was hard going because it was so steep, but she did not let that spoil her upright carriage. She was just in the middle of the line, which was being led by Nyoda, and could see that the girls in front of her were getting out of step and breaking the unity of the line in their efforts to preserve their balance. Not so Sahwah. She saw Mr. Larue watching her and she knew he was comparing her with the rest. Her fancy broke loose again and she had a premonition of her future triumphs. The sight of the camera turned full on her gave her a sense of elation beyond words. It almost intoxicated her. Halfway down the hill Sahwah, with her head full of day-dreams, stepped on a loose stone which turned under her foot, throwing her violently forward. She fell against Hinpoha, who was in front of her. Hinpoha, utterly unprepared for this impetus from the rear, lost her balance completely and crashed into Gladys. Gladys was thrown against Nyoda, and the whole four of them went down the hill head over heels for all the world like a row of dominoes.

Down at the bottom of the hill stood the hero and heroine of the piece, namely, Miss Mortimer and Chambers, the leading man, and as the landslide descended it engulfed them and the next moment there was a heap of players on the ground in a tangled ma.s.s. It took some minutes to extricate them, so mixed up were they. Mr. Larue hastened to the spot with an exclamation of very excusable impatience. Several dozen feet of perfectly good film had been spoiled and valuable time wasted. The players got to their feet again unhurt, and the watching crowd shouted with laughter. Sahwah was ready to die of chagrin and mortification. She had spoiled any chances she had ever had of making a favorable impression on Mr. Larue; but this was the least part of it. There in the crowd was Marie Lanning laughing herself sick at this fiasco of Sahwah's playing. Good-natured Mr. Chambers was trying to soothe the embarra.s.sment of the Winnebagos and make them laugh by declaring he had lost his breath when he was knocked over and when he got it back he found it wasn't his, but Sahwah refused to be comforted. She had disgraced herself in the public eye. Breaking away from the group she ran through the crowd with averted face, in spite of calls to come back, and kept on running until she had reached the edge of the park and the street car line. Boarding a car, she went back to Onoway House, wis.h.i.+ng miserably that she had never been born, or had died the winter before in the coasting accident. Her ambition to be a motion picture actress died a violent death right then and there. So the march of the Camp Fire Girls had to be done over again without Sahwah, and was consummated this time without accident.

When Sahwah reached Onoway House she wished with all her heart that she hadn't come back there. She had done it mechanically, not knowing where else to go. At the time her only thought had been to get away from the crowd and from Mr. Larue; now she hated to face the Winnebagos. She was glad that no one was at home, for Mrs. Gardiner had taken Betty and Tom and Ophelia to see the play acted. As she went around the back of the house she came face to face with Mr. Smalley, who was just going up on the back porch. He seemed just as surprised to see her as she was to see him, so Sahwah thought, but he was friendly enough and asked if the Gardiners were at home. When Sahwah said no, he said, "Then possibly they wouldn't mind if you gave me what I wanted. I came over to see if they would lend me their wheel hoe, as mine is broken and will have to be sent away to be fixed, and I have a big job of hoeing that ought to be done to-day." Sahwah knew that Migwan would not refuse to do a neighborly kindness like that as long as they were not using the tool themselves, and willingly lent it to him.

She was still in great distress of mind over the ridiculous incident of the morning and did not want to see the other girls when they came home.

So taking a pillow and a book, she wandered down the river path to a quiet shady spot among the willows and spent the afternoon in solitude.

When the other girls returned home Sahwah was nowhere to be found. This did not greatly surprise them, however, for they were used to her impetuous nature and knew she was hiding somewhere. Hinpoha and Gladys were up-stairs removing the dust of the road from their faces and hands when they heard a stealthy footstep overhead. "She's hiding in the attic!" said Hinpoha.

"She'll melt up there," said Gladys, "it must be like an oven. Let's coax her down and don't any of us say a word about the play. She must feel terrible about it."

So it was agreed among the girls that no mention of Sahwah's mishap should be made, and Hinpoha went to the foot of the attic stairs and called up: "Come on down, Sahwah, we're all going out on the river."

There was no answer. Hinpoha called again: "Please come, Sahwah, we need you to steer the raft." Still no answer. Hinpoha went up softly. She thought she could persuade Sahwah to come down if none of the others were around. But when she reached the top of the stairs there was no sign of Sahwah anywhere. The place was stifling, and Hinpoha gasped for breath. Sahwah must be hiding among the old furniture. Hinpoha moved things about, raising clouds of dust that nearly choked her, and calling to Sahwah. No answer came, and she did not find Sahwah hidden among any of the things. Gladys came up to see what was going on, followed by Migwan.

"She doesn't seem to be up here after all," said Hinpoha, pausing to take breath. "It's funny; I certainly thought I heard someone up here."

"Don't you remember the time I thought I heard someone up here in the night and you said it was the noise made by rats or mice?" asked Migwan.

"It was probably that same thing again."

"It must have been," said Hinpoha.

"Maybe it was the ghost of that Mrs. Waterhouse, who died before she had her attic cleaned, and comes back to move the furniture," said Gladys.

In spite of its being daylight an unearthly thrill went through the veins of the girls. The whole thing was so mysterious and uncanny.

Migwan was looking around the attic. "Who broke that window?" she asked, suddenly. The side window, the one near the Balm of Gilead tree, was shattered and lay in pieces on the floor.

"It wasn't broken the day we brought Miss Mortimer up," said Gladys. "It must have happened since then."

"There must have been someone up here to-day," said Migwan. "Do you suppose-" here she stopped.

"Suppose what?" asked Hinpoha.

"Do you suppose," continued Migwan, "that Sahwah was up here and broke it accidentally and is afraid to show herself on account of it?"

"Maybe," said Hinpoha, "but Sahwah's not the one to try to cover up anything like that. She'd offer to pay for the damage and it wouldn't worry her five minutes."

"It may have been broken the night of the storm," said Nyoda, who had arrived on the scene. "If I remember rightly, we opened it when Miss Mortimer was up here, and as it is only held up by a nail and a rope hanging down from the ceiling, it could easily have been torn loose in such a wind as that and slammed down against the cas.e.m.e.nt and broken. We were so excited trying to cover up the plants that we did not hear the crash, if indeed, we could have heard it in that thunder at all."

This seemed such a plausible explanation that the girls accepted it without question and dismissed the matter from their minds. Descending from the hot attic they went out on the river on the raft. As it drew near supper time they feared that Sahwah would stay away and miss her supper, and they knew that she would have to show herself sometime, so they determined to have it over with so Sahwah could eat her supper in peace. On the path along the river they found her handkerchief and knew that she was somewhere near the water. They called and called, but she did not answer. "I know what will bring her from her hiding-place," said Nyoda. She unfolded her plan and the girls agreed. They poled the raft back to the landing-place and got on sh.o.r.e. Then they set Ophelia on the raft all alone and sent it down-stream, telling her to scream at the top of her voice as if she were frightened. Ophelia obeyed and set up such a series of ear-splitting shrieks as she floated down the river that it was hard to believe that she was not in mortal terror. The scheme worked admirably. Sahwah heard the screams and peered through the bushes to see what was happening. She saw Ophelia alone on the raft and no one else in sight, and thought, of course, that she was afraid and ran out to rea.s.sure her. She took hold of the tow line and pulled the raft back to the landing-place.

"Whatever made you so scared?" she asked, as Ophelia stepped on terra firma.

"Pooh, I wasn't scared at all," said Ophelia, grandly. "They told me to scream so you'd come out." So Sahwah knew the trick that had been practised on her, but instead of being pleased to think that the girls wanted her with them so badly she was more irritated than before. There was no further use of hiding; she had to go into the house now and eat her supper with the rest. The meal was not such a trial for her as she had antic.i.p.ated, because no one mentioned the subject of moving pictures, or acted as if anything had happened at all. After supper Nyoda brought out a magazine showing pictures of the Rocky Mountains and the girls gave this their strict attention. Nyoda read aloud the descriptions that went with the pictures. In one place she read: "The barren aspect of the hillside is due to a landslide which swept everything before it."

At this Migwan's thoughts went back to the scene on the hillside that day, when the human landslide was in progress. Now Migwan, in spite of her serious appearance, had a sense of humor which at times got the upper hand of her altogether. The memory of those figures rolling down the hill was too much for her and she dissolved abruptly into hysterical laughter. She vainly tried to control it and buried her face in her handkerchief, but it was no use. The harder she tried to stop laughing the harder she laughed. "Oh," she gasped, "I never saw anything so funny as when you rolled against Miss Mortimer and Mr. Chambers and knocked them off their feet."

After Migwan's hysterical outburst the rest could not restrain their laughter either, and Sahwah became the b.u.t.t of all the humorous remarks that had been acc.u.mulating in the minds of the rest. If it had been anyone else but Migwan who had started them off, Sahwah would possibly have forgiven that one, but since selling her two plots to Mr. Larue Migwan had been holding her head pretty high. That Migwan had succeeded in her end of the motion picture business when she had failed in hers galled Sahwah to death and she fancied that Migwan was trying to "rub it in."

"I hope everything I do will cause you as much pleasure," she said stiffly. "I suppose nothing could make you happier than to see me do something ridiculous every day." Sahwah had slipped off her balance wheel altogether.

Migwan sobered up when she heard Sahwah's injured tone. She never dreamed Sahwah had taken the occurrence so much to heart. It was not her usual way. "Please don't be angry, Sahwah," she said, contritely. "I just couldn't help laughing. You know how light headed I am."

But Sahwah would have none of her apology. "I'll leave you folks to have as much fun over it as you please," she said coldly, rising and going up-stairs.

Migwan was near to tears and would have gone after her, but Nyoda restrained her. "Let her alone," she advised, "and she'll come out of it all the sooner."

Sahwah was herself again in the morning as far as the others were concerned, but she still treated Migwan somewhat coldly and it was evident that she had not forgiven her.

CHAPTER VIII.-A CANNING EPISODE.

Three times every week Migwan had been making the trip to town with a machine-load of vegetables, which was disposed of to an ever growing list of customers. Thanks to the early start the garden had been given by Mr. Mitch.e.l.l, and the constant care it received at the hands of Migwan and her willing helpers, Migwan always managed to bring out her produce a day or so in advance of most of the other growers in the neighborhood and so could command a better price at first than she could have if she had arrived on the scene at flood tide. After every trip there was a neat little sum to put in the old cocoa can which Migwan used as a bank until there was enough acc.u.mulated to make a real bank deposit. The asparagus had pa.s.sed beyond its vegetable days and had grown up in tall feathery shoots that made a pretty sight as they stood in a long row against the fence. The new strawberry plants had taken root and were growing vigorously; the cuc.u.mbers were thriving like fat babies. The squashes and melons were running a race, as Sahwah said, to see which could hold up the most fruit on their vines; the corn-stalks stood straight and tall, holding in their arms their firstborn, silky ta.s.sel-capped children, like proud young fathers.

But it was the tomato bed in which Migwan's dearest hopes were bound up.

The frames sagged with exhaustion at the task of holding up the weight of crimsoning globes that hung on the vines. Migwan tended this bed as a mother broods over a favorite child, fingering over the leaves for loathsome tomato worms, spraying the plants to keep away diseases, and cultivating the ground around the roots. All suckers were ruthlessly snipped off as soon as they grew, so that the entire strength of the plants could go into the ripening of tomatoes. For it was on that tomato bed that Migwan's fortune depended. While the proceeds from the remainder of the garden were gratifying, they were not great enough to make up the sum which Migwan needed to go to college, as the vegetables were not raised in large enough quant.i.ties. Migwan carefully estimated the amount she would realize from the sale of the tomatoes and found that it would not be large enough, and decided she could make more out of them by canning them. At Nyoda's advice the Winnebagos formed themselves into a Canning Club, which would give them the right to use the 4H label, which stood for Head, Hand, Health and Heart, and was recognized by dealers in various places. According to the methods of the Canning Club they canned the tomatoes in tin cans, with tops neatly soldered on. After an interview with various hotels and restaurants in the city Nyoda succeeded in establis.h.i.+ng a market for Migwan's goods, and the canning went on in earnest. The whole family were pressed into service, and for days they did nothing but peel from morning until night.