Chapter IX: A Wayside Bivouac

Ruth insisted upon stopping at the first brook they came to and Sammy was made presentable--his face and hands scrubbed and his clothing brushed.

"Yuh needn't be so particular," said Sammy. "There'll more dirt get on me before night."

"Listen to him!" groaned Ruth.

Mrs. Heard laughed. "That's what it means to have a boy in the family. Oh, I know! I brought up my nephew, Philly, for the most part. I had to watch him like a cat at a mousehole to see that he did not go to bed at night without washing his feet. He _would_ run barefoot."

"One of the penalties of going on this excursion, young man," said Agnes to Sammy, "is having to keep clean. I know it's going to be hard sledding for you; but we can't afford to have a grubby looking youngster in the party."

Sammy sighed, muttering: "Well! I guess I can stand it. Ma bathed me all over, _every day_, when I was sick. Guess that's why I'm so thin now. She purt' near washed me all away."

The first day's journey had been carefully laid out, and the party of tourists from the old Corner House knew just where they were to stay that night. They were not to be bound throughout their tour, however, by hard-and-fast plans or rules.

"It's a poor rule that can't be broken," said the matter-of-fact Mrs. Heard. "Just the same we want to know something about where we are going--sometimes. I wouldn't fancy being caught out in some wilderness on a stormy night, for instance, with nothing better than somebody's barn to take refuge in."

This, of course, neither she nor the others realized at the time was a prophetic statement.

Naturally, if one is to go on such an excursion as this of the Corner House girls, one must have some idea of the roads, of hotels, and of the choice of routes and hostelries, as well as distances between proposed stops.

As far as they had been able to learn there was no hotel on the road they had selected, near which they would be at noon of this first day. So, in with the suitcases and other impedimenta, was packed a lunch hamper.

When they stopped by a wayside spring for the noon bivouac, they were out of sight of every house and a long way from home. But Neale O'Neil knew this road.

"I was over it the other day with Mr. Howbridge. Pogue Lake is just back there a couple of miles. That's a great fishing place."

"I never did see how men and boys could be cruel enough to fish," said Mrs. Heard, with a little shudder. "Always wanting to kill something. Hooking fish by their poor, tender mouths--it's awful!"

"I should think it would hurt the worms worse than it would the fish, Mrs. Heard," said the thoughtful Tess. "The long worms get cut in half--and both ends wriggle so!"

"Huh!" grunted Sammy. "Worms ain't got no feelings. No more'n eels. And it don't hurt an eel to skin it--so there!"

"I'd like to know how _you_ know so much, young man," said Mrs. Heard, tartly. "Did you ever talk to a skinned eel? Who told you it didn't hurt 'em?"

Other automobile parties had stopped at this pleasant spot to picnic, for there were unmistakable marks of its having been thus occupied. It seems seldom to occur to picnic parties that other excursionists may wish to use the same sylvan spot which they find so lovely and leave in such disgraceful condition.

But the party from the old Corner House was careful in more ways than one.

Strapped to the side of the automobile just over the step, was a folding tripod of light lacquered steel rods. From the apex of these when they were set up, the kettle was hung, for Mrs. Heard insisted she must have her tea.

First, however, Neale O'Neil produced a small shovel and prepared a patch of sand on the grass, on which to build the fire. He was an old hand at camping out and knew very well that fire could not spread from a sandpile.

Neale had always shown himself to be quick and handy; but Mrs. Heard was immensely pleased with his despatch in getting water boiled and his part of the camping arrangements complete. Of course, the girls "set the table," and even Sammy was made use of. He gathered the supply of dry fuel, and if Neale had not stopped him he would have piled up sufficient at the camp site for a Fourth of July bonfire.

It was after the older girls had washed the few dishes they had used and while they were resting after the lunch that the first incident of real moment on this tour of the Corner House girls occurred.

A man came tramping through the brush with a rod in his hand and a creel slung from his shoulder. He wore long wading boots and he walked through the brook into which the waters of the spring trickled, and so reached the automobile party. Tom Jonah stood up, but did not growl at him.

The man was lifting his cap and going right by when Dot Kenway uttered a squeal of surprise.

"Oh, Tess! Oh, Aggie!" she cried. "Here's my sick man now."

At the same moment Neale O'Neil recognized the fisherman and shouted to him:

"Hi, Mr. Maynard! What luck to-day?"

The other turned a single glance at Neale and nodded, his attention immediately becoming fixed on Dot. He approached her with a smile warming his countenance, which seemed rather saturnine in repose.

"This is my kind little friend," he said; and although his face was deeply flushed it was not from the same cause as when the smallest Corner House girl had previously met him. "So you remember me?"

"Oh, yes, sir," Dot replied, a little bashfully, giving him her hand.

"And how is the dolly's health? But _this_ isn't the one?" asked Mr. Maynard, showing that he had a good memory for some incidents of that former unfortunate afternoon.

"Oh, yes; this is my Alice-doll," said Dot, eagerly.

"Why, she doesn't look the same," the man declared, warmly interested.

"She has new clothes on--and a new hat."

"I never would have known her again," went on Mr. Maynard.

"And you couldn't ever guess what's happened to her," said Dot, seriously.

"Her face----?"

"She's been completely cured of a dreadful bad complexion," confided Dot. "Neale took her to a hospital. It is wonderful what they can do to you nowadays at hospitals," said the little girl.

"It is indeed," agreed Mr. Maynard, taking the Alice-doll tenderly in his arms.

"I saw the place myself," went on Dot, eagerly. "There was a big gold sign over the door, 'Dolls' Hospital.' Why! I didn't know there were such places."

"Indeed?" responded the man, very much interested.

"Yes. And they fixed Alice's face--and her hair. Of course, she wasn't a real blonde before; but it's fashionable. Like our Aggie, you know," pursued the talkative Dot.

Meanwhile Agnes had been whispering eagerly to Neale and now they both approached Dot and her friend.

"Mr. Maynard," said Neale, "have you see anything of Saleratus Joe again?"

"My goodness, Neale!" exclaimed the fisherman. "You could have seen both him and Jim Brady on this road this very morning. They passed me as I came along to the pond, in that big car of Brady's."

Mrs. Heard had been attracted by this topic of conversation. She said:

"I believe that horrid Brady brought about the stealing of my nephew's car. And he's shielding the men who actually did it."

"I don't know about that, Mrs. Heard," said Mr. Maynard, who evidently knew the widow. "He surely didn't have the car stolen for his own use," and he smiled, "for that French machine of his cost him forty-five hundred dollars. He told me so the other day."

"Are you very well acquainted with Brady, Mr. Maynard?" queried the woman, rather suspiciously.

"Why--no!" he replied, slowly. "I know most of the men who hang about the court house; and Jim thinks he can get me back in the surveyor's office. Of course, I should be grateful if he could."

"I don't for a moment suppose that Brady wanted my nephew's car," said Mrs. Heard, sharply. "_You_ know that?"

"Why--yes," responded the fisherman again.

"But if Brady had it stolen, why hasn't the car been found?" Neale put in, wonderingly.

"I told you before," said Mrs. Heard, promptly. "They expected to find those road maps. And I guess they didn't find 'em," she added, with a nod of satisfaction.

"You may be right, Mrs. Heard," agreed Mr. Maynard, but evidently desirous of saying no more.

He handed the Alice-doll back to Dot, who, with Tess, had not been much interested in this discussion, of course; and he picked up his fishing rod to depart.

"I am sorry I did not happen along before you ate your luncheon," he said, smiling. "I could have supplied you with a nice mess of yellow perch."

"Thank you, Mr. Maynard," said Agnes, with a naughty twinkle in her eye. "I'm afraid we should have had to refuse them, for Mrs. Heard does not approve of fishing."

"Goodness! but I am fond of fish, just the same," said their chaperone, honestly.

"What would you suggest as the least cruel way of capturing fish?" Mr. Maynard asked, soberly.

"How about seining them and then chloroforming each fish?" whispered Neale to Agnes.

But the widow laughed, saying to the fisherman:

"I remember my husband used to go fishing with you, Mr. Maynard. But he never brought fish into the house where I could see them till they were ready for the pan, so as not to shock me."

"That was quite right of him, Mrs. Heard," said Mr. Maynard, gravely. Then he turned to Dot again. "I hope you will all have a fine time on your tour--you, especially, my dear. Do--do you suppose you could spare a kiss for me--a good-bye kiss?"

"Oh, yes, sir," said the generous Dot. "And I truly hope you won't be sick again, Mr. Maynard."

The man flushed deeply, saying:

"I have not been troubled by that sickness, my dear, since the day you were so kind to me; and--please God!--I never shall be again."

He strode away then with a nod only to the others.