The Outdoor Girls
Around the Campfire

“THIS IS THE LIFE!” CRIED MOLLIE.
The Outdoor Girls Around the Campfire.
Frontispiece (Page [96])

The Outdoor Girls
Around the Campfire

or
The Old Maid of the Mountains

BY
LAURA LEE HOPE

Author of “The Outdoor Girls of Deepdale,” “The Outdoor Girls in the Saddle,” “The Moving Picture Girls,” “The Bobbsey Twins,” “Bunny Brown and His Sister Sue,” “Six Little Bunkers at Grandma Bell’s,” “Make Believe Stories,” Etc.

ILLUSTRATED

NEW YORK
GROSSET & DUNLAP
PUBLISHERS

Made in the United States of America

BOOKS FOR GIRLS

By LAURA LEE HOPE

12mo. Cloth. Illustrated.

THE OUTDOOR GIRLS SERIES

THE OUTDOOR GIRLS SERIES

• THE OUTDOOR GIRLS OF DEEPDALE
• THE OUTDOOR GIRLS AT RAINBOW LAKE
• THE OUTDOOR GIRLS IN A MOTOR CAR
• THE OUTDOOR GIRLS IN A WINTER CAMP
• THE OUTDOOR GIRLS IN FLORIDA
• THE OUTDOOR GIRLS AT OCEAN VIEW
• THE OUTDOOR GIRLS ON PINE ISLAND
• THE OUTDOOR GIRLS IN ARMY SERVICE
• THE OUTDOOR GIRLS AT THE HOSTESS HOUSE
• THE OUTDOOR GIRLS AT BLUFF POINT
• THE OUTDOOR GIRLS AT WILD ROSE LODGE
• THE OUTDOOR GIRLS IN THE SADDLE
• THE OUTDOOR GIRLS AROUND THE CAMPFIRE

THE MOVING PICTURE GIRLS SERIES

• THE MOVING PICTURE GIRLS AT OAK FARM
• THE MOVING PICTURE GIRLS SNOWBOUND
• THE MOVING PICTURE GIRLS UNDER THE PALMS
• THE MOVING PICTURE GIRLS AT ROCKY RANCH
• THE MOVING PICTURE GIRLS AT SEA
• THE MOVING PICTURE GIRLS IN WAR PLAYS

THE BOBBSEY TWINS SERIES

(Sixteen Titles)

THE BUNNY BROWN SERIES

(Thirteen Titles)

SIX LITTLE BUNKERS SERIES

(Nine Titles)

MAKE BELIEVE STORIES

(Eleven Titles)

Grosset & Dunlap, Publishers, New York

Copyright, 1923, by
GROSSET & DUNLAP

The Outdoor Girls Around the Campfire

THE OUTDOOR GIRLS
AROUND THE CAMPFIRE

CHAPTER I
PLANS

“Putt—putt—putt!” came the rhythmic throb of the motor as the little motor boat sped over the glassy surface of the lake, stirring up the water on either side of it and leaving a frothy white trail in its wake.

“How’s this for speed?” chortled the girl at the wheel, a pretty, dark-haired girl with dancing brown eyes. “I reckon we could beat any other boat on this old lake.”

“And then some!” agreed Mollie Billette, slangily. “I wish some one would come along and challenge us to a race.”

“It would provide some excitement, anyway,” sighed Grace Ford, as she lounged in the bow of the pretty little boat. “Looks like a pretty dull summer to me, so far.”

“How do you get that way, Grace Ford?” cried Betty Nelson, she of the dark hair and dancing eyes whom the girls fondly called “Little Captain.” “Tell ’em, Amy,” she added, to the quiet, sweet-faced girl who lounged beside Mollie Billette. “Tell ’em what you told me a little while ago.”

Grace Ford sat upright, a chocolate half-way to her mouth, while Mollie Billette’s black eyes regarded the “Little Captain” severely.

“Betty Nelson, what have you been holding back from us?” she demanded, but Betty was still looking at Amy Blackford.

“Tell ’em, Amy,” she repeated. “The news is too good to keep.”

“I’ll say it is,” agreed Amy, a smile lighting up her quiet face. “When Henry spoke of it to me at first I thought it was too good to be true. I supposed he was joking.”

“Told you what?” cried Mollie Billette, in an exasperated tone. “If you are not the most aggravating——”

“Hold your horses, old dear,” drawled Grace Ford, quietly helping herself to another piece of candy. “Amy has the floor——”

“The deck, you mean,” murmured Amy, then added hastily, as the girls threw impatient glances her way: “I’ll tell you just how it happened if you give me a chance. You see, Henry,” Henry was Amy’s older brother, “had a chance to take over an old shack near the upper end of Rainbow Lake in part payment for a debt. And now that he has the shack, he doesn’t know what to do with it.”

The girls leaned toward Amy eagerly.

“Then what?” asked Mollie.

“Why,” said Amy, with a smile of quiet enjoyment, “I told him I thought we girls might help him out, for the summer, anyway. I thought it would be a great lark to camp out there during vacation.”

“Amy, you are a wonder,” drawled Grace, but Mollie broke in impatiently.

“Is he going to let us have it?” she demanded.

“I should say so!” laughed Amy. “Said he would be glad to put it to some sort of use. He said it would make a mighty fine summer camp but that was about all it was good for.”

“It will be ideal,” broke in the Little Captain, happily, as she brushed a wind-blown strand of hair from her eyes. “Why, at the upper end of Rainbow Lake we’ll be as much alone as if we were in an African forest.”

“More so, I hope,” drawled Grace, adding with a little shudder: “For in an African forest they have wild animals for company while here——”

“We sha’n’t see anything wilder than a chipmunk,” chuckled the Little Captain.

“Suits me fine,” said Grace heartily. “Wolves and bears may be all right, but give me a chipmunk every time.”

“My, isn’t she brave?” said Mollie, admiringly, and the other girls chuckled.

“Tell us more about this little shack, Amy,” said Betty, after a while. “Is it very tiny, or is it big enough to contain us all without squeezing?”

“Henry said it is of fair size,” replied Amy, wrinkling her forehead in an attempt to remember details. “There are two rooms in it and the rooms are furnished in a rough sort of way, with home-made furniture.”

The Little Captain let go of the wheel long enough to clap her hands gleefully.

“Great!” she cried. “This gets better every minute. Think of it. A house ready-made for us, and furnished, at that.”

“Too much luxury,” drawled Grace.

It was the first day of July and the Outdoor Girls, never completely happy unless they were engaged in some outdoor sport, had embarked in their pretty motor boat Gem for a sail down the Argono river. Although the motor boat was really Betty’s property, the Outdoor Girls rather regarded it as their own. And indeed, when it is considered that none of the four ever used it without the other three, it was the same to them as though the ownership were actually theirs. As a matter of fact, what belonged to one of the Outdoor Girls automatically belonged to all of them.

Those who have kept in touch with Betty and her chums will need no introduction to the Gem, but for the benefit of those who do not know these Outdoor Girls so well, we will give a brief description of it. For in this story the trim little motor boat plays rather an important part.

First of all, the Gem had been given to Betty by an uncle of hers, a retired sea captain by the name of Amos Marlin. The old fellow had produced the best craft of its size that could be found anywhere. There was a large cockpit in the stern, and a tiny cooking galley. Also the little boat boasted a small trunk cabin and an unusually powerful and efficient motor. Altogether a snappy little craft, well meriting its name of Gem.

And now, as the girls putt-putted briskly down the river, the thrill of summer filling them with a fresh eagerness for adventure, it is no wonder that Amy’s suggestion of a summer camp on the banks of Rainbow Lake was greeted with enthusiasm.

So far, having made no plans for the summer months, they had about decided to spend a rather uneventful summer in Deepdale, the thriving and busy little town in which they had been brought up.

It might have been supposed, since Deepdale was situated so pleasantly on the banks of the Argono—the latter emptying some miles below into pretty Rainbow Lake—and since the bustling population of the town itself numbered something like fifteen thousand, that the Outdoor Girls would have been content to spend a summer there.

However, although they agreed that Deepdale was “the finest place in the world,” change and adventure were what they really hankered after, and Deepdale was too familiar a spot to offer them either.

But there was real adventure in the idea of camping out in the romantic little shack so recently acquired by Amy Blackford’s brother, and they welcomed it eagerly.

“I suppose we ought to run down there and look the place over,” said Grace, cautiously. Grace was the only one of the four Outdoor Girls who really considered comfort where adventure was concerned, and this trait of hers no amount of ridicule or impatience on the part of the other girls could overcome. For Grace, who was tall and slim and graceful, was very fond of her ease. Once she was assured that an outing was to be “comfortable,” then she could start in to enjoy herself.

So at this suggestion that they “run down there and look the place over” the girls exchanged a glance of martyrdom.

“Why, of course,” said Mollie sarcastically, “Grace will have to be sure she has a real hair mattress to sleep on and clean sheets twice a week. Maybe we could manage to get an easy chair aboard the Gem—one like the kind Betty’s dad uses.”

“A fine idea,” replied Grace, unabashed. “I never gave you credit for so much thoughtfulness, Mollie dear. Have a chocolate?”

Mollie sniffed disdainfully.

“Keep your old chocolates,” she said. “The next time you offer me one I’ve a good mind to throw the whole box overboard.”

“Just try it,” said Grace, lazily. “You’d have to toss me over, too, you know.”

“Shouldn’t mind in the least,” said Mollie, at which the Little Captain laughed and Amy Blackford chuckled.

“Talk about wild animals,” cried Betty, gayly. “We won’t need any with you and Grace about, Mollie dear. Two wildcats are enough.”

“Did you hear what she called us?” asked Grace, feeling abused, but Mollie was looking the other way.

“We’ve gone a pretty long way down the river,” she said. “Look, Betty, isn’t that the new lake steamer, the General Pershing?”

Betty, who had been too absorbed in plans for the summer to notice particularly where she was going, followed the direction of Mollie’s pointing finger.

Suddenly her breath caught in a gasp and a thrill of apprehension swept over her. The steamer was indeed the General Pershing, the great shining new boat which plied up and down the lake and the river, and it was coming toward them at what, to the Little Captain, seemed an appalling rate of speed.

“Betty,” cried Mollie, leaning forward and catching Betty’s arm, “we’re right in the path of it! For goodness’ sake, sheer over.”

“I can’t—very far!” said Betty, tight-lipped. “It’s shallow, near the shore and—the rocks——”

Mollie took in the situation with a glance and a little groan of dismay escaped her. At this point the river was very narrow and the shore on either side bristled with cruel, jagged-looking rocks. A small boat like the Gem would be dashed to pieces upon them. Betty was right. It would be madness to encroach too far upon them.

And yet on the other hand the steamer menaced them with destruction. Bearing down full upon them, it could not fail to meet them squarely in the middle of that narrow channel!

Useless for Betty to stop the motor. They had no time to turn, speeding back to the safety of the wider water. If Betty kept her head, holding the boat away from the oncoming steamer and at the same time far enough from the rocks—

Amy and Grace, now fully alive to the peril of the situation, were leaning forward, their faces white, their breath coming in terrified gasps.

The Little Captain, her hand resolutely on the wheel, a prayer for guidance in her heart, watched the oncoming rush of the big steamboat.

CHAPTER II
ALMOST A COLLISION

On, on came the big steamboat, looming larger as it bore down upon them! Nearer, nearer, while the wash from its approach reached the little motor boat in sickening undulations—a danger not thought of before! They would be swept on to the rocks!

Closer, closer! It would strike them! It must! It was over them, gigantic, overwhelming! The girls nerved themselves for the shock that was to come. Grace closed her eyes—

And then—the steamer had passed. Betty had swerved at just the right moment to escape collision. The Gem was acting like a drunken man, swirling and reeling in the heavy wash of the great steamer.

They were heading straight toward the rocks, driven by the agitated waves. In another moment they would be dashed upon them—

“Betty!” screamed Grace. “We’ll be killed! The rocks!”

But the wail was drowned in the sudden roar of the motor. The Gem leaped forward, her nose swung around to meet the oncoming waves. Gallantly she plowed through the water which was lashed to a froth by the progress of the steamer, just grazing a jagged edge of rock, flinging spray over her bows, soaking the girls.

Then she was free of the channel, speeding for the safety of the open water. Betty, looking back over her shoulder, saw that the decks of the General Pershing were black with people who had rushed to the rail to see the fate of the motor boat.

The steamer had slowed down and half turned around as though intending to come to the rescue, but, seeing that this was unnecessary, she straightened once more, continuing on her way.

Betty’s hands trembled on the wheel. The reaction left her faint and sick. As though from a long distance she heard Mollie’s voice saying:

“Well, if that wasn’t a narrow squeak, I never saw one!”

“It was the Little Captain saved us,” said Amy. “She knew just what to do, as she always does.”

And this indeed was the reason for Betty Nelson’s nickname of “Little Captain.” For this brown-haired, brown-eyed girl seemed always to know just what to do at a critical moment and, more than this, she always did it. She was just eighteen and the only daughter of a rich carpet manufacturer of Deepdale. It was hard to tell which Betty loved the more, her kindly, indulgent father or her lovely mother.

Grace Ford, the second of the Outdoor Girls, was tall and slender, fond of her comfort and loving candy and sodas and sweets of all sorts. Her father was a distinguished lawyer and her mother was a fine looking woman who spent a good deal of her time in club activities. Grace also had a brother, Will Ford, of whom she was passionately fond.

Then there was Mollie Billette, daughter of Mrs. Pauline Billette, a well-to-do, sprightly little widow with more than a dash of French blood in her veins. Perhaps her French ancestry explains Mollie’s quick temper. Mollie also had a little brother and sister, twins and seven years old. The latter were always in mischief, and although Mollie loved them dearly, she sometimes found it very hard to have patience with them.

The last of the quartette of Outdoor Girls was Amy Blackford, whom the girls had first known as Amy Stonington. She was the ward of John and Sarah Stonington and at one time there had been considerable mystery regarding her real parentage. Later, when the mystery was solved, Amy found out that not only was her real name Blackford but that she was possessed of a splendid brother as well, Henry Blackford. Like Mollie, Amy was seventeen, but there the resemblance ended. She was as quiet as Mollie was hot-tempered, and there was something sweet and appealing about her that roused the protective instinct of the more vigorous girls.

So much for the girls. Then, there were the four boys who almost invariably accompanied the girls on their adventures. There was, of course, Will Ford, Grace’s brother, who, as a soldier in the World War had distinguished himself by some clever secret service work. Will loved quiet Amy Blackford and Amy, in turn, made no secret of her feeling for him.

There was Allen Washburn, the clever young lawyer who thought the Little Captain was about the nicest person in the world. Allen had enlisted at the call of the United States to arms. He was made a sergeant in the American Army and, although he had gone over a sergeant, he came back with a commission as lieutenant. No wonder the girls—and especially Betty—were proud of him!

Frank Haley was another of the boys in the little group. A splendid young fellow, liked by all the girls, and liking them all, he had been introduced into “the crowd” because of his friendship for Will Ford.

There was, too, Roy Anderson, jolly and full of fun, always ready for everything that came along. Perhaps Mollie expressed the general sentiment toward him when she said that they were fond of Roy chiefly because he always kept them amused. And how apt we are to love the person that amuses us!

The girls had earned their title of “Outdoor Girls” from the fact that they almost always managed to spend their vacations in the open. And because of this they had run into a great number of adventures.

There was, for instance, their first tramping tour of the country, the incidents of which are told in the first volume of the series, entitled “The Outdoor Girls of Deepdale.” There had followed many other adventures, at Rainbow Lake, at Ocean View, in Florida, and, later, on an island called Pine Island where they had found many interesting things, including a real gypsy cave.

During the war they had served in a Hostess House while the boys, together with countless others of our fine American lads, sailed off across the ocean to fight for liberty.

Another summer they had spent at Wild Rose Lodge, a lovely spot hidden deep in the woods where they became interested in a poor old man who thought his two sons had been killed in the war.

In the volume directly preceding this, entitled “The Outdoor Girls in the Saddle,” these girls had had one of their most interesting adventures. Mrs. Nelson, Betty’s mother, through the death of a relative, had become the owner of a ranch.

The most important thing about this ranch—in the estimation of the girls, at least—was the fact that it was situated right in the midst of a great gold-mining district. How the girls with Mr. and Mrs. Nelson went to the ranch, spending a glorious few weeks in the saddle, and how gold was finally found on the ranch is told of in detail in that volume.

And now we turn once more to the present with Betty Nelson, the Little Captain, saving her chums from the peril of collision with the great river steamer General Pershing.

As for Betty, although the girls heaped her with their praises, she had never felt less like a heroine in her life.

Scarcely knowing what she did, she turned the nose of the little boat back toward Deepdale. The thought was unpleasant that once more they would be forced to pass through that narrow channel, bounded on either side by the rocky shore.

However, this time there was no General Pershing bearing relentlessly down upon them and they passed through the dangerous spot without further mishap.

“Goodness, I’m glad that’s over!” said Grace, relaxing once more in her seat, her voice still tremulous.

“We couldn’t possibly have met that old boat in a worse place,” said Mollie, glaring resentfully after the General Pershing, whose bulk was diminishing rapidly in the distance.

“Well,” said Betty, trying to laugh and not making a very good job of it, “there’s no use blaming the steamer. We shouldn’t have been there, you know.”

“Don’t you want me to take the wheel, Betty?” spoke up Amy, suddenly. “Come back here in my place and I’ll take the Gem the rest of the way.”

But though she smiled at her, Betty denied firmly that there was any reason why she should give up the wheel.

“I’m all right,” she said, adding, as she rounded the curve of an island, skirting the shore toward Deepdale: “Do you want to stay out any longer, or shall we call it a day and go up to my house? Mother said there was an apple pie in the refrigerator and some ginger ale on the ice.”

“Oh, boy!” sighed Grace ecstatically. “Lead me to it.”

“So say we all of us,” said Mollie, and Amy joined in the chorus. Strange how their terrifying experience of a few minutes before disappeared in the distance as they thought of apple pie!

“And we can talk over our plans for camping, too,” said Amy, at which the girls realized that they had not thought of Henry Blackford’s shack in the woods for five whole minutes. This would never do.

By the time they had reached the dock at Deepdale they had nearly forgotten their encounter with the General Pershing and so were genuinely surprised when they saw Allen hurrying toward them.

At sight of the tall figure Betty’s heart missed a beat and her face felt suddenly hot. If only she might stop that miserable habit of blushing—especially when Allen was around!

CHAPTER III
ENTER THE TWINS

“Gee Christopher, but you girls gave me a scare!” exploded the young lawyer, as soon as he came within speaking range. His words included all the girls but his look was only for Betty.

“What do you mean, gave you a scare?” asked Mollie, her black eyes dancing. “We haven’t seen you for almost a week.”

“Maybe Betty has,” murmured Grace, with a wicked glance at the Little Captain.

“No, I haven’t,” said the latter, looking up demurely. The furious color had subsided and she was just flushed enough to look unusually pretty. As for what Allen thought—

“Look here,” he said, abruptly, his handsome young face very serious as he searched Betty’s expression, “did Babcock tell me the truth when he said the General Pershing almost ran you down?”

On Betty’s face was a look of bewilderment.

“How did you know?” she questioned. “It only just happened?”

“Who’s Babcock?” asked Grace, with interest.

“A lawyer I’ve met once or twice,” returned Allen, still with his worried eyes fixed on Betty. “We ran into each other a few minutes ago. Seems he just landed from the General Pershing and he was full of this incident. Said it was a miracle the boat wasn’t wrecked. The description he gave me of it sounded very much like the Gem.”

“It was the Gem,” said Mollie.

“But he was wrong about a miracle saving us,” put in Amy, throwing an arm about the Little Captain. “It was Betty.”

Allen was on the verge of saying that Betty was a miracle, anyhow, but, considering that there were a good many people about, thought better of it. However, his eyes spoke for him.

“You must be more careful, Betty,” he said, taking the rope from her with which she was making the Gem fast to the dock. “You mustn’t take such chances when I’m not around.”

He was close to her and speaking in a low tone. Amy and Mollie and Grace had considerately turned away and were walking slowly in the direction of Betty’s house. Having fastened the little boat securely, Betty and Allen turned to follow them.

“Please promise you’ll be more careful when I’m not with you,” Allen persisted, and Betty glanced up at him with a hint of laughter in her eyes. But the laughter hid a little hurt, for Betty was feeling a bit neglected. Mollie was right when she said they had not seen nor heard from Allen for several days. Of course he had been busy—he always was—but just the same—

So said Betty:

“If I took chances only when you were around, I wouldn’t take very many, would I?”

She tried to speak lightly but she did not quite succeed, not as far as Allen was concerned. Looking down at her suddenly serious little face he wished that they might be alone for just five minutes so that he might explain. And he was in such a rush!

“That isn’t fair,” he said, gravely. “You know I wouldn’t have stayed away if I hadn’t had to. Look here, Betty—dear,” they had come to a corner and he had stopped, facing her. He had an appointment at three-thirty and here it was three-twenty-five this minute. “I can’t stay now, I’ve got to rush. Can I see you to-night?”

What perverse imp in Betty made her answer lightly:

“I have an engagement to-night, Allen.”

All at once the young lawyer looked savage. Confound that engagement!

“Betty,” he said, desperately, “I’m coming to-night anyway, and if you won’t see me I’ll camp on your doorstep till you do.”

With this threat he turned and hurried down the street, his back as stiff as a ramrod, the heavy frown still on his brow. Why, he thought, gloomily, did Betty always have to look most adorable just when she was going to be most aggravating? How was he going to keep his mind on business, anyway, when all he could think of was Betty’s face?

Meanwhile, Betty had looked musingly after his retreating figure and then, at the thought of the savage look on his face, chuckled unfeelingly. Just the same, her eyes were a little wistful as she hurried to catch up with the girls. She did wish his old business wouldn’t take up so much of his time! Maybe if he had taken up medicine, now, instead of the law—but no, that would have been worse yet. Doctors never had any time at all to themselves. She was still wondering whether she ought to see Allen that night—knowing all the time that she would not miss seeing him for the world—when the girls turned and spied her.

“Well, did we walk slowly enough?” asked Mollie, teasingly, as together they turned the corner into the street where Betty lived.

“Is he coming to-night?” added Grace, with a chuckle.

“Since I can’t answer both of you at once,” Betty retorted, “I sha’n’t answer you at all. There’s mother on the porch,” she added, to change the subject.

“And now,” sighed Grace, happily, as they turned in at the walk of Betty’s house, “just lead us to that apple pie.”

While they ate pie and drank gratefully of the ice-cold ginger ale, Betty told her mother of Henry Blackford’s cabin in the woods and explained to her the use they wished to make of it.

“It looks just providential to us,” she finished, eagerly. “Mother, if you were so cruel as to say I couldn’t go, I believe I’d take a running jump and land right in the middle of the lake.”

Mrs. Nelson’s eyes twinkled.

“Far be it from me to drive you to that, dear,” she said. “I think the idea is a splendid one and you all ought to be very grateful to Mr. Blackford for suggesting it.”

Whereupon Mrs. Nelson found herself promptly kissed by not only Betty, but the other girls as well. So sudden was the onslaught that she waved them away laughing and declaring it would take her a week at least to get back all the breath she had lost.

A few minutes later, having finished all the apple pie and ginger ale in sight, the girls started en masse for Mollie’s house, to gain a like consent from Mollie’s mother, the sprightly little French widow.

“And maybe,” said Grace hopefully, as they neared the Billette home, “your mother has something in the refrigerator for us too, Mollie dear.”

“Your appetite does you credit, Grace,” said Mollie sarcastically. “But in the language of our day I must beg you not to kid yourself. If there ever was anything in the ice box, that dainty has been done away with by Dodo and Paul long ere this. So if you feel you need any further refreshment you’d better stop at the pastry shop and fortify yourself.”

As they were at that moment passing the shop in question Grace gazed longingly into the pastry-filled windows, then as the girls watched her laughing, regretfully shook her head.

“Can’t be done,” she murmured sorrowfully. “Used up half my allowance already and only three days of the week gone.”

“It surely gets me, Grace Ford,” said Mollie, a trifle resentfully—for Mollie was gaining flesh a little too rapidly to suit her—“how you manage to eat sweets all day and still keep your sylph-like form.”

“It’s a gift,” remarked Grace, with the sweet, superior smile that always made Mollie boil. “I sha’n’t tell you the secret, Mollie darling, even if you did gain five pounds in two weeks.”

“Didn’t,” retorted Mollie, with a frown. “It was only four and a half. I don’t see why you always have to exaggerate everything.”

“What’s half a pound between friends?” returned Grace, airily.

Luckily they reached Mollie’s home at this minute, which fact probably averted an exchange of blows, so Betty laughingly declared.

Mrs. Billette was at home and she listened rather absently to the girls’ recital of what they hoped to do during the summer. Since at times they all talked at once it was small wonder that a rather bewildered expression grew in her eyes.

“You want to go camping in this cabin in the woods, which belong to Mr. Blackford, is that so?” she said at last, in her pretty accent. “Why, yes, I think it will be all right. You have learn’ pretty well to take care of yourselves,” she added, with an indulgent smile that for a moment chased the worried frown from her forehead. However, a sudden sharp sound, like the falling of a heavy body from above stairs, brought back the harassed expression to her face.

“Those children, Dodo and Paul!” she said, wearily. “To-day they have nearly drive me wild. I wish you would take them with you into the woods, Mollie. It would be all right for them to run wild there. They could break nothing but their own heads.”

“Which they would certainly do,” said Mollie, with a wry little face. The idea of having her fun hampered by the mischievous antics of the twins was not a pleasant one.

At that moment there came a terrific bumping and thumping down the stairs and with one accord Mrs. Billette and the four girls rushed to the door.

“It is done at last!” wailed Mrs. Billette. “This time they have kill themselves!”

CHAPTER IV
MORE PLANS

But it would take more than a mere matter of falling downstairs to put an end to the activities of Dodo and Paul. This they proved themselves, by coming up smiling and chuckling and very much alive at the foot of the stairs.

“Oh, you will be the death of me yet, you li’l rascals,” moaned Mrs. Billette, picking them up and feeling carefully over their small bodies to make sure that there were no bones broken. “I shall die of heart failure, if nothing else. Why will you not behave yourselves? Dodo, Paul, tell mother, are you hurt, darlings?”

Dodo and Paul regarded their mother and the girls in wide-eyed amazement at the fuss that was being made over them.

“Course, we’re not hurt,” said the little girl, rubbing a dimpled knee as though it had come in too hard contact with the edge of a stair. “Paul an’ me, we was runnin’ a race to see who could get downstairs first an’ Paul got in the way——”

“Den she pushed me,” said Paul, taking up the narrative in an injured tone. “I would have won de race only she pushed me. Wasn’t fair—”

“Was too,” interrupted Dodo, hotly. “You pushed me first, right up there at the head of the stairs an’ so I pushed you too.”

“Ooh,” said Paul, his eyes wide and injured. “Dodo Billette what a big story-teller——”

“Paul,” interrupted his mother sharply, “that will do. How many times have I told you that you must never call your little sister names?”

“Well, but she is,” insisted the round-eyed Paul, whereat his exasperated parent pushed him gently but very very firmly toward the front door.

“There, go outside, both of you,” she said. “And see if you can stop quarreling for five minutes. What have I done to have such terrible children!”

As the door closed upon the obstreperous twins she raised her hands in a typically French gesture and turned to the girls, despairingly.

“You see how it is,” she said, leading the way once more into the cool peace of the living-room. “Not five minutes in the day do they give me peace. Sometime I think I shall go mad.”

“Poor mother,” said Mollie, putting her arm about the little woman and seating her in the easiest chair in the room. “I know they’re a dreadful pest, but just think how much worse it would be if you didn’t have them. Remember the time when they were kidnapped——”

But Mrs. Billette stopped her with a quick gesture.

“Do not remind me of that!” she commanded, sharply. “Have I not done my best to forget that dreadful time? But you do well to speak of it, after all, Mollie,” she said, more gently, patting Mollie’s hand. “It make me more contented to bear with them. They are very little yet and it is natural for children to be always in mischief.”

Those who are familiar with the Outdoor Girls will remember when the mischievous, adorable twins, Dodo and Paul, had been kidnapped by a villain who demanded an outrageous sum of money for their safe return and how the same twins had been rescued from a ship, wrecked on the rocks of Bluff Point near the cottage where the Outdoor Girls were summering. And it was true that whenever Mrs. Billette or Mollie were tempted to be impatient with the twins they remembered the despair of that dreadful time and dealt gently with the erring Dodo and Paul, aggravating little wretches that they could be.

“Just the same,” said Grace as, a few hours later, the girls started for home and dinner, “I’d just as soon leave the twins behind when we go on our vacation.”

“Poor kiddies,” said Betty, with a twinkle in her eye. “Just think how they would enjoy themselves!”

“Yes,” retorted Grace, unmoved. “But just think how we would enjoy ourselves.”

“Speaking of our vacation,” said Mollie, who had agreed to walk as far as Betty’s house with her. “It seems as though things were just about settled for one grand and glorious time.”

“How about you, Grace?” asked Amy, as they paused at the corner before separating for their respective domiciles. “Do you suppose your folks will give you the O.K.?”

“Amy, what slang!” chuckled Betty. “If we don’t look out, you’ll be giving us points.”

“Impossible,” retorted Amy, at which Betty grinned still more.

“Why, yes, I guess,” said Grace, in reply to Amy’s question. “The folks will let me go anywhere as long as Will comes along.”

“Good gracious, are we going to let the boys in on this?” asked Mollie, wide-eyed.

“Did you ever know of a time we were able to keep the boys out—altogether?” retorted Grace, favoring Mollie with a pitying glance. “We’ve tried it, haven’t we?” she added, as Mollie still stared at her.

“We-ell, not very hard,” said Betty, impishly, and, looking at her, the girls had to laugh.

“You’re enough to demoralize anybody, Betty Nelson,” said Mollie, giving her a hug. “You won’t even let us pretend we don’t want the boys.”

“I don’t see why we should pretend,” said Amy, boldly, flushing as the girls turned their laughing eyes upon her. “We always have a lot better time with them,” she persisted, and the Little Captain hugged her impulsively.

“Of course we do. Don’t let ’em tell you different,” she said gayly, then turned decidedly on her heel. “I don’t know about the rest of you,” she flung back at them over her shoulder, “but I do know I’ve got to be getting home. Mother will think I’m lost. Coming, Mollie?”

And so they parted, promising to get together on the morrow for a grand “pow-wow” and to make definite plans for their outing.

“Is Allen coming to-night, Betty?” asked Mollie of the Little Captain, as they stopped before Betty’s door.

“He said he was,” said Betty, lightly, adding ruefully: “And he left before I had a chance to contradict him.”

“Which of course you wanted to do,” teased Mollie, adding, soberly: “Have you noticed anything unusual about Allen, Betty?”

Betty looked startled, but her answer sounded indifferent enough.

“I haven’t had much of a chance to notice anything about him lately,” she said, but sharp little Mollie was not one whit deceived.

“He’s got something on his mind,” she said, thoughtfully. “Once or twice I’ve met him on the street and he was in such a hurry going somewhere that he didn’t even notice me. The last time I called after him and he stopped and apologized for not seeing me, just like a gentleman. But for all that, he was in a dreadfully big hurry to get away.”

“Just busy, I guess,” said Betty, adding, as she answered her mother’s call from within the house: “He’s getting to be terribly popular, you know.”

Although Betty had denied that she had noticed any change in Allen, in her own heart she knew that she had, and wondered what could be the matter. She ate her dinner absently and hurried through her dessert—it was a good one, too, plum cake with hard sauce—so that she might “pretty” herself before Allen arrived.

As she brushed her dark curls into some semblance of order and regarded her flushed face in the mirror over her pretty dressing table, Betty reflected whimsically.

“And I was wondering,” she said, a little quirk at the corners of her mouth, “whether I should see him or not. It would really be better if I didn’t. It might teach him that he can’t stay away for a whole week without even ’phoning—” She paused and regarded her image thoughtfully.

Then, with a smile, she patted the last unruly lock of hair into place and went over to her closet to select the prettiest gown she had.

“And all the time,” she mused, “I knew I’d see him. I had to when he spoke in that tone. And he knew it too. Well,” with a sigh, “there isn’t any use worrying over it, I suppose.”

The dress she took from the hook was a fluffy organdie of that popular and becoming color known as “American beauty.” And when Betty slipped it over her dark head and stood once more before the mirror, the color of it miraculously matched the color in her cheeks. Betty—and the Little Captain was not at all conceited—was well satisfied with the effect.

Before she had quite finished putting the last touches to her pretty toilet she heard Allen talking and laughing with her father on the porch.

“It’s a wonder,” she thought, resentfully, “that he can spare any time at all from that old business of his. I wonder,” she added, inconsistently, “if he will like my dress.”

As a matter of fact, it is doubtful if Allen really saw the dress at all. For he was staring straight at Betty and no dress, however lovely, could compete with Betty’s face when she looked as she looked to-night.

Mr. Nelson, enjoying an after-dinner cigar, noted the direction of the young lawyer’s glance and chuckled to himself. He liked Allen Washburn very much, and, strange as it may seem, he liked his pretty daughter even better. So it is very easy to see that everybody was happy.

After a while, like a very thoughtful and obliging parent, he went inside, ostensibly to play the phonograph, but really to ask proudly of his wife if Betty wasn’t the prettiest thing she ever saw.

To which Mrs. Nelson replied, that, though she hadn’t seen Betty yet to-night, she would agree, just on general principles, that she was.

“And the best of it is,” added the woman, softly, “Betty doesn’t know how lovely she is. She is just as sweet and unspoiled as she was at ten.”

“Let’s hope that she will always be so,” replied Betty’s father, gravely.

Meanwhile, out on the porch the last warm rays of the sun had given place to the soft summer twilight and Allen brought his chair closer to Betty’s so that he might watch the expression on her face. She was smiling a little, as though enjoying some joke that he could not share and he wondered if she were going to let him be serious. It was very seldom that she did.

“Are you laughing at me?” he asked, suddenly.

Betty’s face became, on the instant, demurely grave.

“How could you think it?” she murmured, looking up at him innocently. “What is there funny about you, Allen?”

“A good many things, I’ve come to believe,” answered Allen, ruefully. “At least, every time I see you, you seem amused.”

“I haven’t been amused very much lately then, have I?” she murmured, and once more Allen began to look savage.

“Stop it!” he said, and Betty looked at him, wide-eyed. Her mirth nearly bubbled over.

“Were you speaking to me?” she asked, and then at the look on his face she began to laugh and the more savage he looked the more she laughed.

Allen got up and walked to the other end of the porch. A moment later Betty’s voice, still choked with laughter, reached him.

“Allen, don’t be a goose,” she said. “Come here and talk to me. I won’t laugh. Truly I won’t.”

Allen came, still forbidding, and sat down beside her. He was quiet so long that she finally reopened the conversation.

“What’s the matter, Allen?” she asked, gently. “Are you worried about anything?”

At her changed tone he turned to her eagerly.

“Will you listen to me without laughing?”

There was a sparkle in Betty’s eyes but her lips were grave.

“Yes, anything you say,” she said, meekly.

Allen looked suspicious, but he went on, just the same.

“There is something on my mind,” he said, so gravely that immediately Betty became grave too. “I’d like to tell you, little Betty, and then maybe you will realize why I haven’t been able to come around lately.”

“Tell me,” said Betty, softly.

CHAPTER V
THE MATTER OF A WILL

Allen paused a moment, his hands clasped on his knees, his eyes thoughtfully upon them.

“I have a client,” he said at last. “He’s an old, old man. Though he retained me a week ago, it was only to-day that I was able to persuade him to put his last will and testament into writing. Poor fellow, he seems to have had a horror all his life of making a will. Thought that the moment he did, it would be the signing of his death warrant.”

In spite of the warm evening breeze Betty shuddered.

“I don’t wonder,” she said. “A will has always seemed a horrid thing to me.”

“But a very necessary one,” Allen reminded her. “The old fellow has considerable of this world’s goods and since he can’t hope to take them with him where he’s going, it’s only sensible to dispose of them justly before he goes.”

“Oh,” said Betty, pityingly. “Is he dying, Allen?”

The young lawyer nodded soberly.

“And his dying isn’t the most pitiful thing about it,” he said. “Everybody has to make up his mind to die sometime and he has lived longer than most. But what worries me,” he paused and the frown deepened, “is that he has something on his mind that, it seems, he can’t bring himself to confide to anybody. Even the will that he drew up to-day isn’t final—or at least, I judged that it wasn’t by the fact that he told me to come back to-morrow.”

“You think he wants to change his will?” asked Betty, puzzled. “I wonder why.”

“If I knew that,” said Allen, with a sudden smile, “I’d know everything, most likely. The other day when he was out of his head—but there,” he checked himself, drawing himself up short as though he were about to say too much, “I can’t betray the confidence of a client. Not that he’s given me his confidence to any marked extent,” he finished with a rueful smile.

Betty was quiet for a moment, thinking over what he had said. She knew Allen well enough to be sure that he had not told her everything he knew. That, as he said, would be to betray the confidence of a client.

There was something very pathetic in the thought of the aged man dying with something on his conscience, a misdeed possibly, perhaps an injustice to some innocent person, and unable even in his extremity, poor stubborn old fellow, to confess.

“Suppose, Allen—” she said suddenly. “Suppose he dies without making a confession?”

Allen shrugged his shoulders.

“That’s probably what he will do,” he answered. “And in that case the mystery—if there is one—will die with him.”

“It’s a pity,” said the Little Captain thoughtfully. “I wish we could do something to help him.”

“Well,” said Allen, turning to her with a queer little smile on his lips, “it’s just like you to wish that. But if I were you I wouldn’t pity the old codger too much. I reckon he’s been a pretty hard man in his day.”

Allen’s lips tightened, and again Betty thought that there was something more behind his words than he was free to tell her. She saw also that the matter of this queer old man and his will had taken a great hold upon him. There surely must be some mystery. Allen was not one to let himself get wrought up about nothing.

“I like that red thing,” said Allen, suddenly, and Betty, looking at him, surprised, saw that he meant her dress.

She laughed and made an impudent little face at him.

“Thanks,” she said. “But it isn’t red. It’s American beauty.”

“Same thing,” said he, with masculine indifference to names. “It’s pretty anyway. I say, Betty,” after a pause, during which Betty’s gaze had been steadily averted from him, “am I forgiven?”

“For what?” she asked, knowing perfectly well what he meant.

“For staying away. You know I wouldn’t have done it if I could have helped it.”