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

by Ralph Henry Barbour

  CHAPTER III

  SHOWS THAT A MOTOR-DORY CAN GO AS WELL AS STOP

  When Nelson awoke the early sunshine was dripping through the tendergreen branches outside the window, the birds were singing merrily, andTom Ferris was digging him in the ribs. He blinked, yawned, and turnedover again, but Tom was not to be denied.

  “Come on, Tilford, and have a douse,” he whispered. “First bugle’s justblown.”

  “Wha--” (a magnificent yawn)--“what time is it?” asked Nelson.

  “Five minutes of seven. Come on down.”

  “Down? Down where?” inquired Nelson, at last sufficiently awake to hearwhat Tom was saying.

  “Down to the lake for a douse. It’s fine.”

  “Huh! It’s pretty fine here. And the lake must be awfully cold, don’tyou think, Ferris?”

  “It really isn’t, honest to goodness! It’s swell! Come on!”

  “Oh--well--” Nelson looked out the window and shivered; then heheroically rolled out onto the floor, scrambled to his feet and donnedhis shoes. One or two of the bunks were empty, and a few of the fellowswho remained were awake and were conversing in whispers across thedormitory, but for the most part sleep still reigned, and the “NoSnoring” order was being plainly violated. Tom and Nelson pattereddown the room--the former stopping long enough at one bunk to pullthe pillow from under a red-thatched head and place it forcibly ontop--and emerged into a world of green and gold. As they raced past theflagstaff the Stars and Stripes was fluttering its way aloft, whilefrom the porch of Birch Hall the reveille sounded and floated echoingover the lake. The air was like tonic, crisp without being chill in theshady stretches of the path, pleasantly warm where the sunlight slantedthrough, and the two boys hurled themselves down the firm pathway asfast as lurking roots would allow. At the pier a handful of fellowswere before them. There was very little breeze, and what there was blewup the lake and so failed to reach the water of the cove. Over on PlumIsland the thin streamer of purple smoke betokened breakfast, while upat Bear Island, farther away across the sunlit water, the boys of CampWickasaw were moving about the little beach. At the edge of the pierthe water was bottle-green, with here and there a fleck of gold wherethe sunlight found its way through the trees that bordered the lake. Itlooked cold, but when, having dropped their pajamas, they stood side byside on the edge of the pier and then went splashing down into fifteenfeet of it, it proved to be surprisingly warm. A moment or two ofenergetic thrashing around, and out they came for a brisk rub-down inthe dressing-tent and a wild rush up the hill and into the dormitory,where they arrived side by side--for, considering his bulk, Tom had away of getting over the ground that was truly marvelous--to find thefellows tumbling hurriedly into their clothes.

  Nelson had received his camp uniform, a gray worsted jersey, a graygingham shirt, two pairs of gray flannel trousers reaching to theknees, one gray worsted sweater, two pairs of gray worsted stockings, agray felt hat, a gray leather belt, and a pair of blue swimming trunks.Jersey and sweater were adorned with the blue C, while on the pocket ofthe shirt ran the words “Camp Chicora.” Following the example of thoseabout him, Nelson donned merely the jersey and trousers, slipped hisfeet into his brown canvas shoes or “sneakers,” and, seizing his toiletarticles, fled to the wash-house in the train of Hethington and TomFerris. By the most desperate hurrying he managed to reach the door ofPoplar Hall before the last note of the mess-call had died away. Hefound himself terrifically hungry, hungrier than he had been withinmemory, and applied himself diligently to the work in hand. Mr. Verderasked how he had slept, and referred jokingly to the bath.

  “Every fellow has to go through with it sooner or later,” he saidsmilingly. “They don’t even exempt the councilors. I got a beautifulducking last week.”

  “Oh, I didn’t mind it,” laughed Nelson. “But I was awfully surprised.I expected something of the sort, but I hadn’t thought of a wetting. Idon’t see how they did it, either.”

  “Well, in the first place, they got a wrench and took the legs off yourbunk; then they put them on again the wrong way, tied a rope to the bedand trailed it along the wall where you wouldn’t see it. All they hadto do then was to pull the rope, and the legs simply doubled up underthe bed. As for the water, that was in a pail on the beam overhead;it’s so dark you couldn’t see it unless you looked for it. Of coursethere was a string tied to that too, and-- Who pulled the string lastnight, fellows?”

  “Dan Speede,” two or three replied promptly.

  “And Carter pulled the rope,” added another gleefully.

  The fellow with the red hair was grinning at Nelson in a ratherexasperating way, and he experienced a sudden desire to get even withthat brilliant Mr. Speede. But he only smiled and, in response tonumerous eager inquiries, tried to describe his sensations when the bedwent down. The affair seemed to have had the effect of an initiationceremony, for this morning every one spoke to him just as though theyhad known him for months, and by the time breakfast was over he nolonger felt like an outsider. Under escort of Tom and Hethington, whoappeared to have detailed themselves his mentors for the present, hewent to Birch Hall to examine the bulletin and find out his duties forthe day.

  The recreation hall stood on the edge of a little bluff, and fromthe big broad porch thrown out at the side a magnificent view of thelake and the farther shore presented itself. Across from the porchwas a monstrous fireplace of field stones in which four-foot logslooked scarcely more than kindling-wood. The hall contained a piano, ashovel-board, innumerable chairs, one or two small tables for games,the letter-boxes, and the bulletin-board. Consultation with the latterelicited the fact that Nelson, whose name was the last on the board,was one of the ferry-boys. Tom explained that he would have to goacross to Crescent with the mail at nine, two, and six-thirty.

  “You can take the motor-dory, if you like. The letters are in that boxover there; and the bag hangs over it--see? You take the mail over andbring back whatever there is and distribute it in the letter-boxesyonder. Who’s the other ferry-boy?”

  “Speede,” answered Bob Hethington, referring to the bulletin.

  “Well, that’s all right,” said Tom. “Dan knows all about it. You lethim attend to it, but you’ll have to go along, you know.”

  “Don’t let him work any games on you,” advised Bob dryly.

  Nelson made a mental resolution that he wouldn’t.

  Then Tom explained about the duties. Every fellow had something todo. There were four lamp-boys, who filled, trimmed, and cleaned thelanterns and lamps all through the camp; four shore-boys, who lookedafter the landing and the boats; four fire-boys, who cut wood for andbuilt the camp-fire and the fire in Birch Hall; four camp-boys, whoswept out and tidied up the dormitories and the recreation hall; threemess-boys, who set the tables and waited at them; two color-boys, whosaw to the hoisting and lowering of the flags in the camp and atthe landing; two ferry-boys; one historian, who wrote the history ofthe day; two orderlies, to whom the others reported, and who in turnreported to the officer of the day (one of the councilors); one police,whose duty it was to keep the camp-grounds clean, and one substitute,who stood ready to take on the duties of any of the fellows who mightbe ill or away from camp. The duties changed day by day, and thepenalty for intentional non-performance of them, as Tom explained withgusto, was to be ducked in the lake by the other chaps.

  Then a couple of the camp-boys clattered in with brooms, and thetrio were glad to make their escape. Tom and Bob hurried away totheir neglected duties, and Nelson idled back to Maple Hall with theintention of getting his things arranged. But the other two camp-boyswere busily at work there and raising such a dust that he retreated.Just outside, on the scene of last night’s conflagration, two fellowswere bringing brush and piling it up for the evening’s camp-fire. Inthe rear doorway of Spruce Hall Mr. Ellery was coaching one of thejuniors in Latin. Near-by a freckled-faced youngster with a pointedstick was spearing bits of paper and other rubbish and transferringthem to a basket which he carried. E
very one seemed very busy, andNelson wondered whether the fire-boys would be insulted if he offeredto aid them. But at that moment he heard his name called, and sawTom beckoning him from in front of the mess-hall. As Nelson answeredthe hail he saw that Dan Speede was with Tom, and surmised that anintroduction was in order. Speede shook hands, and said, with thatirritating smile on his handsome face, that he was glad to know Nelson,and Nelson muttered something that sounded fairly amiable. Speede wasgetting on his nerves, for some reason or other; perhaps because helooked so confoundedly well pleased with himself and appeared to lookon everybody else as a joke prepared for his special delectation.

  “I know one or two Hillton fellows rather well,” Dan said, and hementioned their names. One of them was a special friend of Nelson’s,but the fact didn’t lessen his irritation to any degree.

  “We’re ferry-boys,” Dan continued. “Suppose we go over now? It isn’tquite nine, but no one ever waits, anyhow.”

  “All right,” Nelson answered.

  They left Tom, put the letters in the bag at Birch Hall, and went downthe path. There wasn’t much conversation on Nelson’s part, but Danrattled on carelessly from one thing to another without seeming to carewhether his companion answered or not. At the landing he threw the baginto the motor-dory and climbed in, followed by Nelson.

  “They’ve got quite a navy here,” observed the latter.

  “Yep; steam-launch thirty feet long, motor-dory, four steel skiffs,three canoes, one punt, and two four-oared barges--only the bargesaren’t down here yet. All aboard!”

  Nelson took the lines and off they chugged straight for the corner ofBear Island, where the red-and-white banner of Camp Wickasaw floatedabove the trees.

  “Hold her off a little more,” advised Dan; “there’s a shoal off theend of the island.” He was gazing steadily toward the landing there,and Nelson noticed that he looked disappointed. “Pshaw!” said Danpresently; “I guess they’ve gone on ahead.”

  “Who?”

  “The Wickasaw fellows. They have a little old sixteen-foot launch whichthey think can go. We usually get here in time to race them over.”

  “Who beats?”

  “We do--usually. Last time I raced with them this pesky dory stoppedshort half-way across. I thought they’d bust themselves laughing.That’s why I hoped we’d meet them this morning.”

  “Too bad,” said Nelson. “What sort of a camp is Wickasaw?”

  Dan shrugged his shoulders disdainfully. “No good. The fellows sleepbetween sheets and sing hymns every night before they go to bed.Besides, the worst of it is, they have women there.”

  “Is it a big camp?”

  “Only about twenty fellows this year.”

  Presently Nelson asked another question: “Can you walk from the campover to the village?”

  “Yes, there’s a good road.” Dan nodded toward the end of the lake. “Butit’s pretty near two miles, I guess. I never walked it.”

  Crescent proved to be the tiniest sort of a settlement. There were nomore than half-a-dozen buildings in sight. To the right of the landingwas a high stone bridge, through which, as Dan explained, the waterfrom the lake flowed on into Hipp’s Pond by way of a small river, andso, eventually, to Lake Winnipesaukee.

  “You’d better go up front,” advised Dan, “and jump onto the landingwhen we get up to it. Take the painter with you.”

  Nelson obeyed. The dory wormed its way in between a lot of rowboats,the propeller stopped, and Dan poised himself for a leap as the boatdrifted in. When it was still some three or four feet away from thefloat he jumped. All would have gone well with him if at the verymoment of his take-off the dory had not, for some unaccountable reason,suddenly started to back away. The result was that Nelson landed infive feet of water, with only his hands on the float. It was somethingof a task to crawl over the edge, but he managed it finally and satdown in a pool of water to get his breath. Then he glanced up andencountered Dan’s grinning countenance and understood. But he only said:

  “That was farther than I thought, or else the boat rocked. Throw me thepainter and I’ll pull you in.”

  Dan, his smile broadening at what he considered Nelson’s innocence,tossed the rope and jumped ashore with the bag.

  “I guess I’ll let you go up alone,” said Nelson. “I’m too wet to visitthe metropolis.”

  Dan said “All right,” and disappeared with the mail-bag. Nelson climbedback into the boat and started the motor. The sun was warm, and aftertaking his shoes off and emptying the water out of them he was quitecomfortable. He even smiled once or twice, apparently at his thoughts.Presently Dan appeared around the corner of the nearest building, andNelson quietly pushed the dory away from the landing.

  “What did you start her up for?” asked Dan. “She’ll get all hot andsmelly if you do that.”

  “Oh, I just wanted to see if I could do it,” answered Nelson. “Pitchthe bag in; I’ll catch it.”

  Dan did so.

  “You’ll have to bring her in, you know,” he said. “I can’t walk onwater.”

  “But you can walk on land, can’t you?” asked Nelson sweetly.

  “Walk on--? Hold on, you idiot, you’re backing her!”

  “Must be something wrong with her,” replied Nelson calmly. He reachedfor the tiller-line, swung the dory’s nose toward the camp, shot thelever forward, and waved gaily at Dan. “It’s only two miles, you know,”he called, as the boat chugged away. “And it’s a good road!”

  He looked back, expecting to hear Dan explode in a torrent of anger.But he didn’t; he merely stood there with his hands in his pockets andgrinned. Half-way across the lake Nelson turned again and descriedDan’s form crossing the bridge on the road back to camp. Nelson winkedgravely at the mail-bag.