Chapter XXI: Picnicking Under the Pines

"We are very much like murderers returning to the scene of their crime," observed Mary Price as she followed her friends along a sandy trail which led to the forest. "Suppose the mate of the dead leopard should be lurking about somewhere?"

"And suppose the moccasin we didn't kill should return with self, wife and numerous family," added Nancy.

"Don't suppose so many dreadful things," objected Billie. "The moccasin isn't going to come out here in these open spaces, and as for Mrs. Leopard, Charlie will kill her with his borrowed rifle if she comes snooping about."

Ever since that eventful day when the Comet had been stalled in a sand bank, Billie and her friends had wished to return to the pine forest for a picnic. Leaving the Comet among those vanguard trees which lingered on the outskirts of the woods, before the trail became too soft, they carried their luncheon somewhat within the confines of the pine woods and chose for their picnicking ground an open space carpeted with pine needles. Here the trees grew to immense heights before they put forth their crown of fringy foliage.

Miss Campbell, off on a motor trip with the Duffys that morning, had trusted her young charges to their old West Haven friends, Percy and Charlie. They had invited Timothy Peppercorn to come, and Edward Paxton, who was growing more and more in favor with the Motor Maids every day.

Two days had passed since the explosion of the gasoline on the Firefly and the old eagle, his grandmother, who had suffered a slight stroke, had not asked for him again. Georgiana was at her side, but Clarence, she had ordered to keep out of her sight.

"The girls are not to do any work to-day," announced Percy gallantly. "Be seated, ladies, while we become your slaves."

"But you don't know how," exclaimed Billie. "You haven't been trained in the business as we have."

"Just you wait and watch," returned Percy. "Charlie, you build the fire while we prepare the victuals."

"What an unappetizing word," ejaculated Elinor, sniffing. "Why not viands?"

"The first course will be viands, then," said Percy, proceeding to peel the bark from a long, straight althea twig, while Charlie with a knife and tablespoon dug a circular trench to keep the flames from spreading, swept the pine needles into the centre, and built a beautiful fire of pine logs and branches.

Presently it burned down to a bed of very hot cinders, on each side of which he planted two stout sticks with forked ends.

"What on earth are you doing with those long gumbo shooters, Charlie?" called Billie, fidgeting from the inactivity of being served by four slaves.

"Something perfectly ripping," he answered. "Wait until you taste what's to come, and see."

"This will be a course of viands, good strong food, I can tell you," added Percy, very busy over the luncheon hamper.

"We don't like the looks of it now," said Nancy. "Fortunately, there are cakes and sandwiches in the basket for those who can't quite go strong food, as you call it."

"Well, this is our contribution to the party beside our services, and I'll wager a pound of candy apiece that after the cooking process you'll eat every scrap, even the onions."

"Ugh!" shuddered Elinor.

In the meantime Edward had opened a bundle containing a large juicy beefsteak which he cut into small round pieces. Percy was engaged in peeling and slicing potatoes and Timothy was putting half a dozen Bermuda onions through the same process.

"Ready, mates?" called Percy.

"Aye, aye, sir," answered the others. And with that they began spearing slices of the meat and vegetables on a long stick and between every potato slice and section of beefsteak, they sandwiched a slice of bacon, then came another piece of potato, then a slice of onion and then the beefsteak again.

"Now for the salt and pepper, gentlemen. Build up the fire a little, Charlie. Swing him over. Who says we are not cooks?"

Resting neatly in the crotchet of the two upright sticks, this unusual arrangement of meat and vegetables began sending out a sizzling, appetizing odor while the four cooks danced a wild Indian war dance around the fire.

"Dear me, it does smell good," admitted Billie at last. "I'm beginning to think I may lose that pound of candy, Percy."

"Spread the cloth, Charlie, dear," called Percy in a high woman's voice which always made them laugh. "Lady Elinor may make the tea now, and Miss Nancy-Bell may cut the cake. I'm head chef of this kitchen. That's the reason I give so many orders. Timothy, suppose you entertain the guests with one of your stunts while the beefsteak is cooking."

"Do 'The Battle of Marathon,' Timothy," ordered Billie.

Timothy rose obediently and made a bashful bow.

"I'm supposed to be a little schoolgirl," he said, "ridiculous as that may seem, and the teacher has commanded me to tell the story of the Battle of Marathon. This is the history class.

"The Ba-el of Marathon," he began, in an absurd little girl's voice, "the Ba-el of Marathon was a great ba-el. It happened in Greeth yearth and yearth ago. There were two sidths to the ba-el and they fo't and fo't and fo't and ever tho many pe-pel wath killed and at lath the thide that had the moth men killed wath beaten an' the other thide won, an' that wath the end. I forget which wath the thide that won."

A joyous laugh went up at this lucid and graphic account of the famous battle. But deeper and merrier was the laugh which mingled with it. The young people suddenly became aware that a stranger had joined their circle and was now leaning against a pine tree looking at the picnic party with an expression of intense amusement. He was a handsome man, rather past middle age, of medium height with a fine rugged face, bronzed with sun and wind, and quizzical, laughing, gray-blue eyes. He wore khaki trousers much the worse for wear. His rather large head with its iron-gray hair, slightly thin at the temples, was uncovered, and across the forehead was the red mark of a recent bruise or scar. He carried a rifle under one arm and a fishing rod under the other.

"I beg your pardon, young ladies," he said. "I didn't mean to intrude, but I was attracted by the appetizing fumes of your beefsteak and bacon. Not many visitors at Palm Beach are fond of Gypsy picnics like this. I was curious to see whom it could be."

They knew, all of them, at once, that it was not a tramp who was speaking, in spite of his shabby old trousers and his collarless shirt.

Then Billie, looking at his face closely again, and the beautiful smile which now radiated it, rose rather shyly and said, somewhat to the surprise of her friends--

"Won't you join us? We've brought lots of lunch, and I'm sure there is enough of Percy's burgoo, or whatever it is, to feed a regiment."

The stranger hesitated a moment, looking at the others.

"Do please," echoed Nancy, always following the lead of Captain Billie.

"I hope you will," added Percy, cordially, never behind in dispensing hospitality.

"I accept your invitation with pleasure," replied the stranger. "It's most kind of you, I am sure. I'm hungry as a wolf, and it's rather far from--er, supplies."

Without the slightest embarrassment, he sat down in the group of boys and girls and joined in the talk and laughter so naturally, that presently they quite forgot he was a stranger at all.

He had a talent, this ingratiating individual, of making all of them talk a great deal, while he listened always with that amused, quizzical expression which Nancy confided to Elinor's private ear "was fascinating." He ate a great deal and enjoyed himself thoroughly. The sizzling, delicious combination of beefsteak and other things, he pronounced the most appetizing dish he had tasted in years. He smacked his lips over Elinor's tea and asked for a second cup. He joked with Nancy, smiled gravely into Mary's serious dark eyes, took many long searching glances at Billie when she wasn't looking, and started each boy, even silent Charlie, on his favorite hobby.

Before that famous luncheon was over, it really seemed that they were entertaining an angel unawares.