Four in Camp: A Story of Summer Adventures in the New Hampshire Woods

by Ralph Henry Barbour

  CHAPTER II

  TELLS OF A TALK BY THE CAMP-FIRE AND OF HAPPENINGS IN A DORMITORY

  An hour later, having discarded some of the garb of civilization formore comfortable attire, Nelson lay stretched out on a carpet ofsweet-smelling pine-needles. Above him were motionless branches ofhemlock and beech and pine, with the white stars twinkling through.Before him was a monster camp-fire of branches and saplings built intothe form of an Indian tepee, which roared and crackled and lightedup the space in front of Maple Hall until the faces of the assembledcampers were recognizable across the clearing. A steady stream offlaring sparks rushed upward, to be lost amid the higher branches ofthe illumined trees. Beside him was the boy with the gray eyes, who,having recovered from his temporary excitement, no longer stammered.Sitting cross-legged in the full radiance of the fire, Tom Ferrislooked not unlike a fat, good-natured Indian idol. Not that he wasas ugly of countenance as those objects usually are; what similarityexisted was due rather to his position and a certain expression ofgrinning contentment. He really wasn’t a bad-looking chap; ratherheavy-featured, to be sure, and showing too much flesh about cheeksand chin to be handsome. He was only fourteen years old, and weighedsomething over a hundred and thirty pounds. He had a rather stubbynose, tow-colored hair, very pale gray eyes, and exceedingly redcheeks. He was good-natured, kind-hearted, eager in the search forfun, and possessed a positive genius for getting into trouble. LikeNelson, he was a student at Hillton Academy, but whereas Nelson was inthe upper middle class, Tom Ferris was still a lower-middler, havingfailed the month before to satisfy the powers as to his qualificationsto advance. Nelson and he had not seen much of each other at school,but this evening they had met quite as though they had been the closestof chums for years. Nelson had already learned a good deal about CampChicora and its customs, and was still learning.

  “The Chief’s a dandy fellow,” Tom was saying. “We call him ‘Clint’ forshort. Carter called him ‘Clint’ to his face the other day, and hejust smiled, and said, ‘_Mister_ Clint, Carter; I must insist on beingaddressed respectfully.’”

  “He looks like a bully sort,” answered Nelson, turning his eyes towhere the Director-in-Chief, the center of a merry group of boys,was sitting at a little distance. Mr. Clinton looked to be aboutthirty-five years old. A few years before he had been an assistantprofessor in a New England college, but the confinement of lecture-roomand study had threatened his health. He had a natural love of theoutdoor life, and in the end he had broken away from the college,built his camp in the half-wilderness, and had regained his health andprospered financially. Camp Chicora had been in existence but threeyears, and already it was one of the most popular and successful ofthe many institutions of its kind in that part of the country. He wastall, dark, strikingly good-looking, with an expression of shrewd andwhimsical kindliness that was eminently attractive. He knew boys as fewknow them, and managed them at once surely and gently. Like the fellowsabout him, he wore only the camp uniform of jersey and trousers, andthe fire-light gleamed on a pair of deeply tanned arms that lookedpowerful enough to belong to a blacksmith.

  “What did he say to you?” asked Tom.

  “Said he was glad to see me, hoped I’d make myself at home and behappy, and told me to let him know if I wanted anything. It wasn’t somuch what he said as--as the way he said it.”

  “That’s ju-ju-ju-just it!” cried Tom, with enthusiasm. “It’s the way hesays things and does things! And he’s into everything with us; playsball, tennis, and-- Say, you ought to see him put the shot!”

  “I liked that Mr. Verder, too,” said Nelson.

  “Yes, he’s a peach! The whole bunch are mighty decent. Ellery--that’shim fixing the fire--he’s awfully nice; he’ll do anything for you. TheDoctor’s another mighty good chap. You’d ought to have seen the wayhe got a nail out of ‘Babe’s’ foot last week! It was perfectly great.‘Babe’ came pretty near fainting! Say, don’t you want to get the bunknext to mine? Maybe Joe Carter will swap with you, if I ask him.”

  “Oh, never mind; maybe when I get to know some of the fellows we canfix it up.”

  “Well, and”--Tom lowered his voice--“I guess they’ll try and have somefun with you to-night; they always do when a new fellow comes; butdon’t you mind; a little ‘rough-house’ won’t hurt you.”

  “I guess I can stand it. What’ll they do?”

  “Oh--er--well, you see, I oughtn’t to tell, Tilford; it wouldn’t bequite fair, you know; but it won’t hurt, honest!”

  “All right.” Nelson laughed. “After the initiation I went through atHillton last fall, I guess nothing short of a cyclone will feeze me!”

  “Say, we’ve got a society here, too; see?” Tom exhibited a tiny goldpin which adorned the breast of his jersey. “I’ll get you in all right.We’re the only Hillton men here, and we ought to stand by each other,eh?”

  Nelson agreed gravely.

  “There’s a chap here from St. Eustace,” continued Tom. “His name’sSpeede, Dan Speede; ever meet him?” Nelson shook his head. “Of coursehe isn’t a Hilltonian,” went on Tom with a tone of apology, “buthe--he’s rather a nice sort. He’s in our hall; you’ll see him to-night,a big chap with red hair; he played on their second eleven last year. Ithink you’ll like him--that is, as well as you could like a St. Eustacefellow, of course.”

  “I dare say there are just as good fellows go there as come toHillton,” responded Nelson generously but without much conviction.

  Tom howled a protest. “Get out! There may be some decent fellows--likeDan--but-- Why, everybody knows what St. Eustace chaps are!”

  “I dare say they talk like that about us,” laughed Nelson.

  “I’d lu-lu-lu-like tu-tu-to hear ’em!” sputtered Tom indignantly.

  Mr. Clinton arose, watch in hand, and announced that it was time forprayers. There was a scrambling and scuffling as the fellows arosefrom their places on the ground to kneel with heads bent and repeatthe Lord’s Prayer. The dying fire crackled softly and its mellow lightplayed upon the motionless forms, while overhead the white stars peereddown through the dark branches as though they too were giving thanks totheir Creator.

  Then good night was said to the Chief and the fellows separated, theyounger boys to climb the hill to Spruce Hall and the older to go totheir own dormitory. Presently from across the clearing floated theslow sweet notes of the bugle sounding taps, and the lights in thejunior hall went out. The seniors, however, still had a half hourbefore they must be in bed, and they made the most of it in variousways. When Nelson and Tom entered Maple they found three distinctpillow or “sneaker” fights in progress, and the air was full ofhurtling missiles. On one bed two youths in pajamas were sittingcross-legged deep in a game of cribbage when a random shoe struck thehomemade board with all the devastating effect of a bursting shell,and sent it, together with the quartet of pegs, over three bunks.Whereupon two voices were raised in rage, cards were dropped, and theranks of the belligerents were swelled by two volunteers.

  The senior dormitory was erected on the side of the hill, well offthe ground for the sake of dryness, and was a simply but well-builtstructure some eighty feet long by twenty wide, with enough pitch toits gable roof to shed rain quickly and afford a sort of open atticunder the rafters, where bags and wearing apparel were precariouslyhung from the beams or supported on occasional planks. The effect inthe dim light was picturesque if not beautiful. There was a multitudeof windows on either side, and at each end large double doors occupieda third of the space. As neither doors nor windows were ever closed,save during a driving rain-storm, the occupants of the narrow bunksranged along each side of the hall practically slept out-of-doors. Abig stove stood in the middle of the building. At the head of eachbunk, secured to the wall, was a white-pine locker. Sometimes thiswas supplemented by a square of matched boards which let down to forma writing-table. Wooden pegs held the every-day attire, and trinketswere disposed along the horizontal joists. The bunks, wooden-framedcots, were guiltless of springs, a
nd were furnished with mattresses,blankets, and pillows. At Chicora sheets were looked down upon asemblems of effeminacy. The fellows slept with their feet toward thewalls. From a rafter hung a sheet of wrapping-paper bearing the warning“NO SNORING ALLOWED!” Some one had crossed out the last word andsubstituted “ALOUD.”

  Nelson’s bunk was the last but one on the left, and in the oppositecorner was Mr. Verder. At the farther end of the dormitory slept Dr.Smith. What light there was was given by two reflector lanterns ateither end of the hall, although for purposes of card-playing, reading,or writing the fellows supplemented this dim radiance by lighting oneor more of the lanterns which were part of each boy’s outfit. Aided bysuch extra illumination Nelson’s right-hand neighbor, a curly-hairedyouth of about sixteen, whose name later transpired to be Hethington,was busily engaged in patching a tennis racket with a piece of string.Near the middle of the hall, a big, good-looking chap with very redhair was entertaining two companions with a narrative that must havebeen extremely humorous, judging from the suppressed laughter thatconvulsed them. Nelson had noticed him at table and now concluded thathe was Tom’s St. Eustace friend, Dan Speede.

  Nelson undressed leisurely and got into his pajamas, the whileexamining the bed and his surroundings for a hint as to the trickwhich was to be played him. But there were no suspicious circumstancesthat he could see; the bed looked and felt all right, and of all thesixteen inhabitants of the dormitory not one was apparently paying himthe least heed. When he considered it, the fact that every one seemedto be resolutely keeping his eyes from his direction struck him asof ill augury; even the boy with the tennis racket was unnaturallyabsorbed in his work. Tom Ferris came over in a pair of weirdly stripedpajamas and sat chatting on the bed a moment until the lights were putout. Then there was a scrambling, a few whispered good nights, andsilence reigned save for the sounds of the forest entering through thewindows and doors. Nelson found the bunk rather different from whathe was accustomed to, but the fresh night air felt good; there was anovel pleasure in being able to look out through the branches at thetwinkling white stars, and he sighed contentedly and wished the worstwould happen so that he could go to sleep.

  But everything was very still. Minute after minute passed. He strainedhis ears for suspicious sounds, but heard nothing save the occasionalcreak of a bed. The suspense was most uncomfortable. He had about cometo the conclusion that after all nothing was going to happen, and wasfeeling a bit resentful over it, when a sound reached him as of barefeet on the boards. He turned his head noiselessly and stared into thegloom. He could see nothing, and the sound had ceased. Probably he hadimagined----

  _Bang!_

  _Thud!!_

  _Clatter!!!_

  Down went the bed with a jar that shook the building; down came ashower of water that left the victim gasping for breath; and Nelson anda big tin bucket rolled together onto the floor and into a very coldpuddle.

  Pandemonium reigned! Gone was the peaceful quietude of a moment before.From all sides came shrieks and howls of laughter and kindly counsel:

  “Pick yourself up, Willie!”

  “Swim hard, old man!”

  “Try floating on your back!”

  “Sweet dreams!”

  “Did I hear something drop?” asked a voice.

  “Very high sea to-night!” remarked another.

  Nelson struggled free of the clinging folds of the wet blankets andstood up shivering in the darkness. It had been so sudden and sounexpected, for all the warning he had received, that he didn’t quiteknow yet what had happened to him. Then a match flared, a lantern waslighted, and the tennis-racket youth was holding it out to him.

  “Did the water get you?” he asked calmly.

  “Rather!” answered Nelson. “I’m soaked clear through!”

  “Better get your panoramas off, then,” said Hethington. “I’ve got somedry ones you can have. I’ll look ’em up.” And he climbed leisurely outof bed.

  By that time Tom had come to the rescue with an armful of dry blanketsfrom an unoccupied bunk. The tin lard can was kicked out of the way,the wet mattress turned over, and the new blankets spread. Hethingtontossed over the dry pajamas, and Nelson, his teeth chattering, gotinto them and looked about him. As far as he could see in the dimlight white-robed figures were sitting up in their bunks regarding himwith grinning faces. There was something expectant in both faces andattitudes, and Nelson realized that they were awaiting an expression ofhis feelings. With a glance that encompassed the entire assemblage, heremarked earnestly, but more in sorrow than in anger:

  “_Well, I hope you choke!_”

  A shout of laughter rewarded him, while a voice from the nearer dimnessremarked audibly:

  “I told you he’d be all right, Dan!”

  Nelson examined the bed, but found that it could not be made to standwithout the aid of tools. So, thanking Hethington again for his pajamasand eliciting a calm “All right,” and looking about for evidences offurther surprises without finding them, he blew out the lantern anddescended into his lowly couch. The last thing he saw, as the lightwent out, was the amused countenance of Mr. Verder across the dormitory.

  Ten minutes later he was asleep.