Chapter 1 of Camp Fire Girls in the Allegheny Mountains This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org Read by Lucy Burgoyne Camp Fire Girls in the Allegheny Mountains or A Christmas Success Against Odds by Stella M. Francis Chapter 1 The Grand Council Fire Woe he lo for I, woe he lo for I, woe he lo, woe he lo, woe he lo for I, woe he lo for work, woe he lo for help, woe he lo, woe he lo, woe he lo for love 239 girl voices chanted the woe he lo cheer with weird impressiveness. The scene alone would have been impressive enough, but Camp Fire Girls are not satisfied with that kind of enough. Once their imagination is stimulated with the almost limitless possibilities of the craft, they are not easily pleased with anything but a finished product. The occasion was the last Grand Council Fire of Hiawatha Institute for Camp Fire Girls, located in the Allegheny City of Westmoreland. The classroom work had been rushed a day ahead. Examinations were made almost perfunctory, and for them also the clock had been turned 24 hours forward. The curriculum was finished, and the day just closed had been devoted to preparation for a Grand Council wind-up for the 15 fires of the Institute, which would break ranks on the following day and scatter in all directions for home and the Christmas holidays. And there was literal truth in this break-ranks method of dismissing school at the Institute. Since the United States entered the European War on the side of the anti-frightfulness allies, Hiawatha had become something of the military school. The girls actually drilled with guns, and they would shoot those guns with all the grim fatality of so many boys. Not that they expected to go to war and descend into the trenches and fire hail storms of steel-coated death messengers at the enemy. Oh no, they might, but they were sensible enough not to let their imagination carry them so far. But preparedness was in the air, and the girls voted to a girl, I almost said man, for they were as brave as men in many respects, to take up military drill and tactics two hours a week as a part of their curriculum. Madame Cleaver, head of the Institute, did not start the military movement rashly. She was carefully diplomatic in the conduct of her school, for she must satisfy the critical tastes and ideas of a high-class parentage clientele. But she also kept her fingers on the pulse of affairs, and knew pretty well how to strike a popular vein. Hence the membership of her classes was always on the increase. Indeed, at the beginning of this school year, she had to turn away something like 40 applicants for want of room and accommodations. Hiawatha Institute was founded as a Camp Fire Girls School, and when Uncle Sam became involved in the European War, the national need for nurses appealed strongly to Camp Fire Girls everywhere. What could they do? The very nature of the training of the girls from Wood Gatherer to Torch Bearer made the question so far as they were concerned as self-answering one. They had all the broad common-sense rudiments of nursing. With some advanced science on top of this, they would be experts. But military authorities said that the nurses ought to have some military drill. War nurses must be organised, and there was no better method of affecting this orderly requisite than by military training. One well-known captain of infantry informed Madame Cleaver that war nurses could not reach the highest grade of efficiency unless they were able to march in columns from one camp to another and be distributed in squads at the points needed. With all this information at her tongue's end, the Madame put the matter to her uniform girls in the assembly hall. Rumour of what was coming had reached them in advance so that it did not fall as a surprise. The vote was unanimous in favour of the plan. The needed nursing expert was already a member of the faculty. The classes were formed a few days later. These were the girls that gathered around a big outdoor campfire. It was really a bonfire in the snow of midwinter on the evening of the opening of this story. Most of them were rich men's daughters, but there were no snobs among them. They were girls of vigour and vim, intelligence and imagination, practical and industrious. They were lively and fond of a good time, but most of them, at least, would not slight a duty for pleasure. Behind every enjoyment was a pathway of tasks well done. Madame Cleaver was chief guardian of the 15 campfires at the Institute. The faculty was not large enough to supply all the adult guardians required, but that fact did not prove by any means an insurmountable difficulty. More than enough young women in Westmoreland, well qualified to fill positions of this kind, volunteered to donate their services in order to make the campfire organisation of the school complete. Indeed, these volunteer guardians added materially to their influence and rank in the community by becoming connected with the Institute. There was, in fact, a waiting list of volunteers constantly among the social leaders of the place. The chief guardian was mistress of ceremonies at the Grand Council fire. 239 girls in uniform, brown coats, campfire hats and brown duck hiking boots stood around the fire answering, collar in unison by groups as the role of the fires was called. As each fire was called and the answer returned, the guardians stepped forward and gave a little recitation of current achievements. This program was varied here and there with music by a girls chorus and a girls orchestra. Everything went along with the smoothness, although with some of the deep dips and lofty lifts of Grand Opera until the name of the last campfire Flamingo was called. Miss Harriet Ladd, the guardian, stepped forward and said, Madam Chief Guardian, Associate Guardians and Campfire Girls of Hiawatha Institute, I bring to you a message of things planned by Flamingo Campfire Girls. As you know, there is in and adjoining state a strike of coal miners that has caused much suffering among the poor families of the strikers. High Peak lives in a mountain mining district. Her father is a mine owner and has given his consent to the extending of an invitation to Flamingo Campfire to work among these poor families and give them relief during the Christmas holidays. The arrangements have been completed and the girls will start for Holly Hill tomorrow. Hooray, hooray, hooray, hooray for High Peak, hooray for Marion Stanlock, hooray for Flamingo Campfire. The cheese shrill on the sharp winter air, now in unison, now in confusion, came not from the assembled campfire girls, although from nearly as many voices. Out from the timber thicker to the west of the campus rushed a small army of car key clad figures. There were a few screams among the girls, but not many. To be sure, everybody was thrilled, but nobody fainted. There were a few moments of suspense, followed by bursts of laughter and applause from the girls. It's the Spring Lake Boy Scouts, cried Marion Stanlock, who was first to announce an explanation of the surprise. Clifford, Clifford Long, are you responsible for this? The Boy Scout patrol leader, thus addressed, did not reply, though he recognised the challenge with a wave of his hand. He was busy bringing his patrol in matching line with the other patrols. As if realising their purpose, the circle around the campfire was broken at a point nearest the newly arrived invaders. An avenue of approach was formed by the lining up of some of the girls in two rows extended out towards the Boy Scouts. In double file, 150 boys marched in and around the campfire, then faced towards the outer ring of campfire girls and vowed acknowledgement at the courteous reception. End of Chapter 1, Chapter 2 of Campfire Girls in the Allegheny Mountains. This Libra Vox recording is in the public domain. Campfire Girls in the Allegheny Mountains by Stella M. Francis. Chapter 2, The Boy Scouts Invasion. That was a grand surprise that the Boy Scouts of Spring Lake Academy put over on the campfire girls of Hiawatha Institute. They had been planning it for several weeks, or since they first received information of the Grand Council Fire as a closing event of the first semester of the girls' school. The two institutions were located in municipalities only 15 miles apart, connected by both steam railroad and electric interurban lines. Spring Lake Academy, located on a lake of the same name at the southern outskirt of Kingston, was originally a boys' military school, and it still retained that primal distinction. But the success of Hiawatha Institute as a campfire girl school set the imaginative minds of some of the leaders of the boys at Spring Lake to work along similar lines, with the result that the faculty's co-operation was petitioned for the organisation of the student body into a troop of Boy Scout patrols. The scheme was successful, and as it served to inject new life into the academy, the business end of the institution had no ground for complaint. This innovation at Spring Lake was due largely to the activities of Clifford Long, one of the students. He was a cousin of Marion Stanlock, and naturally this relationship served to direct his personal interest toward Hiawatha Institute. Not a few other students in these two schools were similarly related, some of them being brothers and sisters. And so it was not to be wondered at if these two places of learning became, as it were, twin schools, with much of interest in common and many of their activities inter-associated. They had rival debating teams between which were held more or less periodic contests, and in the numerous social events there were frequently exchanges of invitational courtesies. The boys plotted their big surprise on the girls in troop scout fashion. There was no real secret in the fact that the campfire girls of Hiawatha Institute were planning a big event, but girl-like they affected secrecy to stimulate interest. The result was more than could have been expected, although the girls did not realise this until after it was all over. The curiosity at the Spring Lake boys was thoroughly alive as soon as they learned of a mysterious something big going on at the Institute. True to the character of real scouts, they delegated emissaries, commonly denominated spies, to visit the stronghold of the campfire girls. Get all the details of their plans discoverable and report back to headquarters. Greater success than that which rewarded their efforts could hardly have been wished for. Half a dozen boys went and returned and then put their heads and their reports together with the result that the scouts of the school had all the information they needed. They mapped out their plans and scheduled their prospective movements by the calendar and the clock. They charted an inter-urban train for the run to and from the Institute. The arrival on the scene of the Grand Council Fire was, as we have seen, a complete surprise to the girls. The scouts well knew that their presence would not be regarded as an intrusion. For a Grand Council Fire, according to the handbook, is for friends and the public. The interruption of the program by the marching of the boys' scouts within the circle of the campfire girls was permitted to continue for 10 or 15 minutes. While a number of short speeches were made by some of the boy leaders, in which they gloried over the way they had put one over the girls. And we're not through yet, announced Harry Gilbert prophetically. Some of us are going to put over another surprise just about as thrilling as this, and we want to challenge you to find out what it is. Of course, this statement produced the very result the boys desired. Naturally, they wished the girls to think they were pretty bright fellows. They got just what they were looking for as a result of their surprise, namely volumes of praise. To be sure, this did not come in the form of undisguised admiration. That isn't the way a clever girl signifies her approval at this sort of thing.  To which, on one occasion in the course of the evening, Earl Hamilton replied, Thank you, ladies. We always do things thorough. Leigh screamed Catherine Crane. Yes, it was really a scream, and explosion too, if the indelicacy may be excused. But the opportunity for a comeback struck her so keenly, so swiftly, that she just could not contain her eagerness to beat somebody else to it. Well, the laugh that followed also was of the nature of an explosion, and it was on poor Catherine quite as much as on Earl, who had tripped up on an addictive in place of an adverb. The girl's eagerness was so evident that it struck everybody as funnier than the boy's mistake in grammar. Anyway, she recovered quite smartly, and followed up her attack with this pert additum as the laughter subsided.  The emphasis on the Leigh was so pronounced, almost spasmodic as to bring forth another laughing applause. This exchange of repertoire took place in the large school auditorium, to which all repaired as soon as the outdoor exercises had been finished. The program at the evening was punctuated by interruptions of this kind every now and then. Of course, the funny makers waited for suitable opportunities to spring their quips and cranks, so that no merited interest in the doing could be lost. And none of it was lost. The presence of the bold invaders seemed to add zest to the most routine of the campfire performances, and when all was over, everybody was agreed that there had not been a dull minute during the whole evening. At the close of the Campfire Girls program, the 150 Boy Scouts arose, and, with heroic unison of voices, peculiar to much practice, in the delivery of school yells. They chanted a clever parody, a woe-he-lo cheer, a Boy Scouts compliment to the Campfire Girls, and then marched out at the auditorium and away toward the interurban line, where their charter train was waiting for them, and all the while they continued the chant with variations of the words. The rhythmic drive of their voices pulsing back to the institute, but becoming fainter and more faint, until at last the sound was lost with the speeding away at the trolley train in the distance. End of Chapter 2, Chapter 3 of Campfire Girls in the Allegheny Mountains. If Marian Stanlock High Peak, in the trait and a torchbearer, had read one of two letters, signed with a skull and crossbones, which she found lying on the desk in her room, after the adjournment of the Grand Council fire, doubtless there would have been an interruption, and probably a change in the holiday program of the Flamingo Campfire. She saw the letters lying there, and under ordinary circumstances would have torn them open and read them, however hastily, before retiring. But on this occasion she was rather tired, owing to the activities and the excitement of the day and evening. Moreover, she realized that she could not hope for anything but a wearer-some journey to Holy Hill on the following day, unless she refreshed herself with as many hours' sleep as possible before train time. So she merely glanced at the superscriptions on the envelopes to see if the letters were from any of her relatives or friends, and failing to recognize either of them, she put them into her handbag, intending to read them at the first opportunity next morning. Then she went to bed and fell asleep almost instantly. Marion was awakened in the morning by her roommate, Helen Nash, who had quietly arisen half an hour earlier. The letter was almost ready for breakfast, when she woke her friend from asleep, that promised to continue several hours longer, unless interrupted. She had turned on the electric light and was standing before the glass, combing her hair. Marion glanced at the clock to see what time it was, but the face was turned away from her, and the light in the room made it impossible for her to observe through the window shades that day was just breaking. What time is it, Helen? She asked. Did the alarm go off? I didn't hear it. What wait you up? Helen did not answer at once. For a moment or two her manner seemed to indicate that she did not hear the questions of the girl in bed. Then, as if suddenly rescuing her mind from thoughts that appealed to have carried her away into some far distant abstraction, she replied thus, in a series of disconnected utterances. No, the alarm didn't go off. Ah, Marion. I've got up at six o'clock. I turn the alarm off. It is six thirty now. I don't know what woke me. I just woke up. Marion arose, wondering at the peculiar manner of her roommate, and strained, almost convulsive tone of her voice. She asked no further questions, but proceeded with her dressing and preparation for breakfast. For the time being, she forgot all about the two letters in her handbag that lay on her dresser. In some respects, Helen was a peculiar girl. If her speech and action had been characterized with more femme, vigour and imagination, doubtlessly, she would generally have been known as a pretty girl. As it was, her features were regular, her complexion fair, her eyes blue, and her hair a light brown. Marion thought her pretty, but Marion had associated with her intimately for two or three years, and had discovered qualities in her that mere acquaintances could never have discovered. She had found Helen apparently to be possessed of a strong, direct conception of integrity, never vacillating in manner or sympathies. Moreover, she exhibited a quiet, unwavering capability in her work that always commanded the respect, and occasionally the admiration of both classmates and teachers. Not only was Helen quiet of disposition, but strangely secretive on certain subjects. For instance, she seldom said anything about her home or relatives. She lived in Villa Park, a small town midway between Westmoreland and Holly Hill. Her father was dead, and when not at school, she had lived with her mother, these two so far as Marion knew, constituting the entire family. Marion had visited her home, and there found the mother and daughter apparently in moderate circumstances. Naturally, she had wondered a little that Mrs Nash should be able to support her daughter at a private school, even though that institution made a specialty of teaching rich men's daughters how to be useful and economical, but the reason why had never been explained to her. Helen got her remittances from home regularly, and seemed to have no particular cause to worry about finances. She had spent parts of two vacations at the Stanlock Home, and there conducted herself as if quite naturally able to fit in with luxurious surroundings and large accommodations. Only a few days before the Christmas holidays, something had occurred that emphasised Helen's secretive peculiarity to such an extent that Marion was considerably provoked and just a little mystified. A young man, somewhere about 25 or 27 years old, fairly well but not expensively dressed, and bearing the appearance of one who had seen a good deal at the rough side of life, called at the institute and asked for Mrs Nash. He was ushered into the reception room, and Helen was summoned. One of the girls who witnessed the meeting told some of their friends that Mrs Nash was evidently much surprised, if not unpleasantly disturbed, when she recognised her call-up. Immediately she put on a coat and hat, and she and the young man went out. An hour later she returned alone, and to no one did she utter a word relative to the stranger's visit, not even to a roommate who had passed them in the hallway as they were going out. Helen Nash was a member of the Flamingo Camp Fire, and accompanied the other members on their vacation trip to the mountain mining district. The other eleven who boarded the train with Marion, the holiday hostess, were Ruth Hazelton, Ethel Zimmerman, Ernestine Johansson, Hazel Edwards, Azalea Atwood, Harriet Newcomb, Estelle Adler, Julietta Hyde, Marie Crismore, Catherine Crane and Violet Monday. Miss Lad, the Guardian, also was one of Marion's invited guests. The party took possession of one end of the parlour car, which, fortunately, was almost empty before they boarded it. Then began a chatter of girl voices, happy, spirited, witty and promising to continue thus to the end of the journey, or until their kaleidoscopic subjects of conversation were exhausted. Every thrilling detail of the evening before was gone over, examined, given its proper degree of credit, and filed away in their memories for future reference. There was more catching of breath, more cheering, more clapping of hands, but no mocked tears, now that the boys were absent, as the events of the Boy Scouts' invasion and the many incidental and brilliant results were recalled and rep pictured. I wonder what Harry Gilbert meant when he said some of them were planning another surprise, nearly as thrilling as the one they sprung last night, said Azalea Atwood, with characteristic, excitable expectation. He addressed himself to you, Marion, when he said it, and he's a close friend of your cousin, Clifford Long. Whatever it is, I bet anything it will fall heaviest on this campfire when it comes. Maybe it was just talk, to get us worked up, and looking for something never to come, suggested Ethel Zimmerman. It would be pretty good, one of the boys, to get us excited, and looking for something clear up to April 1, and then spring an April field joke, something like a big dry goods box packed with Excelsior. Oh, but they wouldn't measure up to expectations, Ruth Hazelton declared. It wouldn't be the one, two, three, with what they did last night, and they promised something just about as interesting. You don't get me, return, Ethel, the dry goods box filled with Excelsior would be the anti-climax of wondering expectations.  That might easily be mistaken for the promised big stunt. They might compose a lot of ditties, and mix them up with the packing, something like this. Believe not all big things the boys may tell thee. The great expectations may produce Excelsior. Very clever indeed, only it sounds like an impossible combination of Alice in Wonderland and an old mate, said Harriet Newcomb, with the toss of her head. I'm surprised at you, Hazel, for suggesting such a thing. If the boys should put over anything like that, we'd break off diplomatic relations right away. If they wanted to call us a lot of brummies, they couldn't do it as effectively by the use of direct language. Cleverness usually makes a hit with its victims, unless it contains an element of contempt. That is really a brilliant observation, announced the Guardian, who had been listening with quiet interest to the spirited conversation. Continued thought along such lines ought to result in a kinder national honour for you, Harriet. I'll agree to all that if Harriet will take back what she said about my being an old mate, said Hazel, with mock dignity. I didn't call you an old mate, my dear, denied the impromptu poet Perkley. I merely said, or meant to say, that the idea you expressed might better be expected from an old mate, although I doubt if many old maids could have expressed it as well as you did. Girls, girls, are you going to turn our vacation in a two-weeks repertoire, Bea? Marion broke in with affected desperation. If you do, you will force your hostess to go way back and sit down, and that wouldn't be polite, you know. By the way, if you'll excuse me, I'll do that very thing now for another reason. I've got two letters in my handbag that I forgot all about. I'm going to read them right now. You girls are making too much chatter. I can't read in your midst. So saying, Marion retired to a chair, just far enough away to lend semblance of reality to her. Go way back and sit down, suggestion, and settle back, comfortably, to read the two missives that arrived with the last evening's mail at the institute. Settle back comfortably, yes, but only for a short time. Marion never before in her life received two such letters. Both were anonymous. The first one that she opened aroused enough curiosity to unsettle her. She thought she knew whom it was from, those ingenious boy scouts of Spring Lake. Perhaps it was written by Cousin Clifford himself. It was just like him. He was the natural leader among boys, and often up to mischief of some sort. Marion was sure he was one of the prime movers at the Scout Invasion of Hiawatha Institute. But the next letter was the real thriller, or rather cold chiller. She knew very well what it meant. From the point of view of the writer, it meant business. A threat well calculated to work, terror in her own heart, and the heart of every other member of Flamingo Fire. It was a threat, countered in direful words, warning her and her friends not to go to Holy Hill on their charity mission, as announced, and predicting serious injury, if not death, to some of them. It was signed with a skull and crossbones. End of Chapter 3. Chapter 4 of Camp Fire Girls in the Allegheny Mountains. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Camp Fire Girls in the Allegheny Mountains by Stella M. Francis. Chapter 4. Studying the Mystery. Is there any wonder that Marion's downlock after reading letter number 2 was seriously in doubt as to whether number 1 was from the Scouts who had promised another surprise for the Camp Fire Girls in the near future? Judge for yourself. Here is number 1. Something doing soon. Look out. Something doing soon. Look out. Look out. That was all. The second letter read thus. Miss Danlock, this is to serve you with warning not to take your friends with you to Holy Hill this vacation, to work among the poor families of the striking miners. We know that move of yours is inspired by the rankest hypocrisy, that you have no genuine desire to do anything for our starving families. This move of yours we know was planned by that villainous father of yours to cloud the big issue of our fight. If you do carry out your plans some of you are liable to get hurt and it need not surprise anybody if some of you never get back to Westmoreland alive. Go slow. Be careful. Marion was not easily panic stricken but it is of the nature of a truism to say that this letter applied the severest test to her nerves. That the writer was in deep earnest, she had no reason to doubt. She had read of so many crimes preceded by threatening letters of this sort that the suggestion did not come to her to regard this one lightly. Although there was no common basis for comparing the handwriting of the two missives, one being lettered in Roman capitals and the other in ordinary script, nevertheless she quickly dismissed the first suspicion that letter number one was written by Clifford Long or some other scout of Spring Lake Academy. Both ended with the words look out, plainly this was the result of carelessness on the part of the writer. Evidently he had planned to cause her to believe that the two letters were written by different persons, that he had taken the pains of differentiating the superscriptions on the envelopes as well as the contents within. But now the question was, what should she do? It was no more than fair and just for her to inform the girls what they might expect if they attempted to carry out their original plan, but what method should she pursue to convey to them this information? She might go at the matter bluntly and create something of a panic, then again she might so handle it that the best possible result could be obtained in a quiet and orderly manner. Marian felt in this crisis that a great responsibility rested on her to handle the problem with all the skill and intelligence at her command. She longed for the counsel of an older and more experienced head, but there was none present except Miss Ladd, the guardian of the fire to whom she might go with the story. The letter, though she came well within the requirements of the national board to fill the position which she held, was nevertheless a young woman in the sensitive sense of the phrase and could hardly be expected to give the best of executive advice under the circumstances. Marian realised that it was her duty to exhibit to Miss Ladd the letters she had received, but if she did this at once the act would amount to turning the whole matter over to her and relinquishing the initiative herself she reasoned. Marian was naturally aggressive and she was not favourably impressed with the idea of leaving the affair in the hands of another unless that person were peculiarly fitted to handle it. As she sat studying over the problem she suddenly became conscious of the presence of another person close beside her and looking up she saw Helen Nash with an expression of startled intelligence in her eyes. Apparently her attention had been attracted by the crude drawing of the skull and crossbones at the close of the letter lying open in her lap. I beg your pardon Marian said Helen with an evident effort at self-control. I didn't mean to intrude I hope you'll forgive me for something quite unintentional. Certainly Helen Marian replied generously and since a chance look has informed you of the nature of these letters and I want to talk this affair over with somebody I think I may as well talk it over with you. Let's go down to the other end of the car where we aren't likely to be disturbed. Accordingly they moved up to the front of the car where they took possession of two chairs and soon were so deeply absorbed in the problem at hand as to excite the wonder and curiosity at the other campfire girls. Marian handed the two anonymous letters to her friend without introductory remark and the letter read them. As Marian watched the expression on the reader's face she was forced to admit to herself that right then under those seemingly impersonal circumstances Helen's habitual strangeness of manner was more pronounced than she had ever before known it to be. The girl of impenetrable secrecy read the letters seemingly with an abstraction amounting almost to inattention while physically she appeared to shrink from something that to her alone was visible and real. As she finished reading Helen looked up at her friend and the gaze of penetrating curiosity that she saw in Marian's eyes caused her to blush with confusion. Unable to meet her friend's gaze steadily she shifted her eyes toward the most uninteresting part of the car, the floor, and said, That looks like a dangerous letter. It ought to be turned over to the police as soon as possible. Both of them, don't you think, Marian inquired. Why? I don't see anything in this shorter one. My guess would be that it was written by your cousin or one of his friends. But do you notice the way they both end? The same words Marian insisted. Yes, I noticed that. Helen replied slowly. But that is such a common ordinary expression, almost like A and or that. That doesn't mean much to me here. Where are the letters postmarked? Both in Westmoreland. That's something in favour of your suspicion that both letters were written by the same person, Helen admitted. Still, it doesn't convince me. You wouldn't expect the Spring Lake boys to mail a letter like the shorter one at Spring Lake, would you? That would stamp its identity right away. You were sure those letters were written by different persons, Marian inquired curiously. I don't think it makes any difference whether they were or not, Helen answered more decisively than she had spoken before. It is in that skull and crossbones letter that you are most interested. I think you can disregard the other entirely. I would say this, however, that if both were written by one person, you have less to fear than if the shorter one was written by your cousin or one of his friends. Why? Because if one person wrote both of them, he is probably suffering from softening of the brain. If the person who wrote the longer one did not write the shorter one, there is more likelihood that he means business and will attempt to carry out his threat. I never realised that you were such a Sherlock Holmes, Marian exclaimed enthusiastically, while the suggestion came to her that perhaps a genius for this sort of thing accounted for her friend's peculiarities. I thought to be a detective for a department store to catch shoplifters. Thanks, Marian, for the compliment, but I am not inclined that way. I'd rather do something in this case to keep our vacation plans from ending in trouble. I was looking for someone who could advise me, Marian said, and I am now convinced that you are just the person I was looking for. What do you think I ought to do, Helen? All the girls ought to know about this letter, Helen replied, but you can't go to them and blurt out anything so sensational. We must break the news gently, as they say in melodrama. I wish we hadn't come. So do I, Marian replied, that with just a suggestion of disappointment in her voice. Not that I am afraid of getting hurt, Helen added hastily, realising the suspicion of cowardness that might rest against her. Still, if my advice had been asked, I would have argued against this very dangerous vacation scheme of yours. Why, inquired Marian in a tone of disappointment? Because of the very situation complained of in that skull and crossbones letter. I hope I don't hurt your feelings, Marian, but it is very natural for some of these rough miners to suspect that your plan was cooked up by your father to pour the wall over their eyes and to regard you as a tool employed by him to put the scheme into operation. Some of the girls' parents raised the objection that there might be danger in a mining district during a strike, but none of them suggested anything of this sort, Marian remarked with a humble anxiety. I explained to them that there could hardly be any danger even if the strikers should get ugly, as the miners are some distance from where we live and any violence on the part of the miners would surely be committed at the scene of their labours. This seemed to satisfy them. Most of the miners live at the south end of the town or along the electric line running from Holyhill to the mines. That doesn't make much difference if the miners once get it into their heads that the girls are being used to put over a confidence game on them. Helen argued authoritatively. Miners are peculiar people, especially if they are led by radical leaders of aggressive purpose. They believe that they are a badly misused set, turning out the wealth of the wealthy who repaid them by holding them in contempt, keeping their wages down to a minimum and pressing them into social and political subjection. Where did you learn all that, Helen? Marian asked, wonderingly. You are not even studying sociology at school. You talk like a person of experience. My father was a miner, Helen began.  She seemed to be making an effort to continue, but was unable to do so. Never mind, Helen, said Marian, taking her hand tenderly in her own. I am more convinced than ever that I found just the right person to advise me when I laid this matter before you. We will try to work this problem out together. Meanwhile, we must take mislead into our confidence. Why? Here she is now. What's the matter, girls? You look as if you had the weight of the world on your shoulders. Mislead spoke these words lightly, as if to pass judgement on the conference, as entirely too serious for a Christmas holiday occasion. Marian and Helen did not respond in tones of joviality, as might have been expected. They met her jocular reproach with expressions of such serious portent that the guardian of the fire could no longer look upon it as calling her words of levity. What's the matter, girls? She repeated more seriously. You look worried. Sit down, mislead, and read these letters I received last night. Said Marian, without any change of tone or manner, they will explain the whole thing.  Trouble, mislead repeated deprecatingly. I hope it isn't as bad as that. She drew an upholstered armchair close to the girls and began at once to examine the letters that Marian handed to her. Marian and Helen watched her closely as she read, but the guardian of the Mingo fire indicated her strength of character by a stern immobility of countenance until she had finished both letters. Then she looked at Marian steadily and said inquiringly, I suppose you have no idea who wrote these letters? Not the slightest, replied the girl, addressed. Unless the shorter one was written and mailed by some of the boys' scouts at Spring Lake, Helen thinks it was, and I am inclined to believe with her that it doesn't make much difference to us who wrote it. The other letter is the one we are most interested in. I agree with you thoroughly, said mislead energetically, and we have got to do something to prevent him from carrying out this threat. Or we to inform the other girls now, asked Marian, with a sense of growing courage, for she felt that in the campfire's guardian she had found elements of wise counsel extending even beyond that young woman's experience. Why, yes, mislead replied. I see no reason for delay. I'd rather tell them now than just before or after we get to Holy Hill. If we tell them now, they'll have a couple of hours in which to stiffen their courage. There are eleven girls beside you two. Suppose you call them here in three lots in succession, four, four and three, and we'll tell them quietly what has occurred and give them a little lecture as to how they should meet this crisis. All right, said Marian Rising, I'll bring the first four and you get your lecture ready. It's ready already, said the Guardian reassuringly. It is so simple that I have no need of preparation. I'm afraid I need some drill in the best means and methods of reading character, Marian told herself as she walked back to the rear of the car. I was really afraid to take the matter up with Helen, or mislead, for fear lest they recommend something foolish. Now it appears that each of them has a very clever head on her shoulders. Maybe I'll find the other girls possessed of just as good qualities. If I do, this day will have brought forth an important revelation to me that the average girl, after all, is a pretty level-headed sort of person. Well, he's hoping for the best. Marian selected the four girls farthest in front and asked them to approach the forward end of the car. They did so with some appearance of apprehension, for by this time all the girls had begun to suspect that something unusual was doing. This appeared to be evident also to the half-dozen other passengers in the car, whose curious attention naturally was directed toward the forward group of girls. All of the girls received the information relative to the anonymous letters so calmly that Marian felt just a little bit foolish because of her groundless misjudgment of them. After the last group had read the letters and discussed the situation with the trio of informants, she spoke thus to them, Girls, you are real heroines, or have in you the stuff that makes heroines. And that is about the same thing. You take this as calmly as if it were an ordinary everyday affair in the movies. I'm proud of you. We ought to be wearing Carnegie medals, ordinary girls, said Juliette Hyde, blinking comically. We can throttle anything from a backhand agent to a ghost. No, you ought to be wearing honor pins for things well done, misled corrected. We'll leave the Carnegie medals for those who have an any-campfire scheme of honors. But really, girls, you have all conducted yourselves admirably in this affair. We will hope it won't result in anything very serious. But meanwhile, we must take proper precautions. Shall we have to give up our vacation at Holy Hill on account of this? Ask Catherine Crane, almost as dejectedly as if she were being sentenced to prison for violating a Connecticut blue law. That is up to you, girls, and the conditions that develop, answered misled. As soon as we get to Holy Hill, we will take the matter up with the proper authorities and try to determine what the outlook is. My father will get busy as soon as he hears about this, said Marion. I think we can leave everything to his management. He will probably advise us to give up the idea of doing anything for the strikers' families and have as good a time as we can, entertaining ourselves at home. Oh, I hope not, Catherine exclaimed, and the manner in which she spoke indicated how much she had set her heart on the work they had planned to do. It would be too bad to give it up, Marion said earnestly, for I understand some of those people are greatly in need of assistance. There is not only much hunger and privation among them, but considerable sickness among the children. We can't do a whole lot in two weeks, but we can do something, and our training as campfire girls and in our nursing classes fits us to be of much assistance to them. It is a shame that they should take an attitude so hostile to their own interests. They probably don't understand your father, or they wouldn't be striking now, said misled. I'm sure they wouldn't, Marion testified vigorously. I've often heard father say he'd like to do more for the men and their families, but conditions tied his hands. Many of the miners are good fellows, but they get mistaken ideas in their heads, and it's impossible for anybody whom they once put under suspicion to convince them that they are in the wrong. Do you know girls interpose violent Monday enthusiastically? I believe we are going to get a lot out of this vacation experience. Whatever happens. I'm interested in what Marion tells us about the miners. Let's make a study of coal mining. Hold up everybody we can for information and watch our chance to help the poor families and their sick children whenever we can without doing anything feel hardy. That's a good idea, said misled. We'll keep that in mind, and if Marion's father's advice is favourable, we'll take it up. The train arrived at Holy Hill shortly after 2pm. Mr Stanlock's touring car and two taxi cabs were waiting at the station to convey the gulls to Marion's home. The run to the spacious half rustic Stanlock residence at the northeast edge of the city occupied about 15 minutes and was without notable incident. The cars passed through a massive iron gateway up a winding gravel-bedded drive and stopped near a white-pillared Pagola connected with the large colonial house by a vine-covered walk running up to a porticoed side entrance. Mr Stanlock met them at the door and the travellers were speedily accommodated with the usual journey-end attentions. Marion then inquired for her father that Mr Stanlock had gone to his office early in the day and would not return until dinnertime. So the girl hostess decided that she must let the problem uppermost in her mind and rest unsettled a few hours longer. Evening came, but still Mr Stanlock did not appear. Wondering at his delay, Mr Stanlock called up his office but learned that he had left an hour and a half before, supposedly for home. How did he leave? Mr Stanlock inquired nervously. In his automobile was the answer. That being the case, he ought to have been home more than an hour ago. His office was in the city and he could easily make the run in 15 minutes. Thoroughly alarmed, Mr Stanlock called up the police, stated the circumstances and asked that a search be made for her husband. Two hours more elapsed and the whole neighbourhood was alarmed. The news spread rapidly and was communicated by phone to most of Mr Stanlock's friends and acquaintances throughout the city. The search was growing in scope and sensation. Treachery was suspected. A tragedy was feared. Then suddenly and calmly Mr Stanlock reappeared at home, driving the machine himself. He had a thrilling story to tell of his experiences. End of Chapter 5 Chapter 6 of Camp Fire Girls in the Allegheny Mountains This Lubrivox recording is in the public domain. Camp Fire Girls in the Allegheny Mountains by Stella M. Francis. Chapter 6 The Punster Makes a Find When Marian Stanlock selected the term high-peak as her campfire name, her deliberations carried her back from Hiawatha Institute to the scene of most of the years of her child life in Holly Hill. Confronted with the task of choosing a name, she first consulted her ideals to determine what associations she wished to have in mind, when in after years she recalled the motive and circumstances of her selection. Home surroundings had always had much of beauty for Marian. From the beginning of his business career Mr Stanlock had had a large income and was able to supply his family with many of the expensive luxuries, as well as all the so-called necessities of life. But for Marian the artificial luxuries had little special attraction. She accepted them as a matter of course, but that is about all the claim they had upon her. She enjoyed the use of her father's automobiles, but she wondered sometimes at the scheme of things which entitled her to an electric runabout or a limousine and a chauffeur, while thousands of other quite-as-deserving girls were not nearly as well-favoured. The ability and the disposition to look at things occasionally from this point of view contributed much to the generosity of Marian's nature. She was a favourite among rich and poor alike, except among those rich who could understand why the wealthy ought to be specially favoured and those poor too narrow and circumscribed to credit, any wealthy person with genuine generosity. Being of this artless and unartificial trend of mind, Marian must naturally turn to either nature or human merit for the selection of her campfire name. She was not sufficiently mature to pick a poetic idea from the achievements of men, and so it fell to nature to supply a quaint notion as a foundation for her nom-di-fire. Seated in her room at Hiawatha Institute one evening, Marian cast about her mental horizon for some scene or association in her life that would suggest the desired name. The first that came to her was the picture of a towering mountain conspicuous not so much for its actual loftiness as for its deceptive appearance of great height. In all her experiences at home it had never occurred to Marian to think of this individual portion of prehistoric geologic upheaval as a mass of earth and stones. She thought of it only as the most beautiful and expression of nature that she had ever seen, graceful of form rich in the season's decorations. This mountain was probably about as slender as it is possible for a mountain to be compared or contrasted with a nearby and characteristic mountain of the range. It was as a lady's finger to a telescope giant's thumb. High peak, as the tapering sugarloaf of earth was called, was located west of Holy Hill, close to the town. In fact the portion of the city inhabited by the main colony of miners' families was built on the sloping ground that formed a foothill of the mountain. And so when Marian named herself as a campfire girl after this mountain she had in mind an ideal expressed in the first injunction of the law of the campfire which is to seek beauty. High peak was her ideal of beauty and grandeur. It stood also with her for lofty aspiration. Thus she pictured the physical representation of the name she chose as a member of the great army of girls and big romance, beauty and adventure in everyday life. On the day when the Flamingo campfire arrived at Holy Hill another train pulled in at the principal station several hours earlier. It came from the same direction and might indeed have borne the 13 girls and their guardian if they had seemed fit to get up early enough to catch a three o'clock train. But the 13 girls would have been much interested if they could have beheld the eight boy passengers as they got off in a group and looked around to see if there was anyone at the depot who knew any of them. Relieved at the apparent absence of anybody who might recognise the one of their number whose home was in Holy Hill or another who had been a frequent visitor there the eight boys hastened to a corner half a square away from the depot and boarded a street car that was waiting for the time to start from this terminal point. The car started almost immediately after they had seated themselves moving in a south-westerly direction through the business section of the city and then directly west toward High Peak passing along the northern border of the mining colony and then making a curve to the north through a more prosperous residence district. The eight boys all wore scout uniforms. They were the full membership of one Spring Lake patrol the leader of which was Ernest Hunter whose home was in Holy Hill and who had invited all the scouts of his patrol to these guests during the holidays. This invitation followed the receipt of information that Marian Stanlock had invited the members of the campfire to spend the Christmas holidays with her. Ernest Hunter was well prepared to entertain his guests in real scout fashion. His parents' home was not large enough to afford sleeping quarters and other ordinary conveniences for seven visitors in addition to the regular personnel of the family but the boy had taken care of this deficiency long before he had ever dreamed that it might occur. The Hunter home included a large track of land running clear up to the foot of the mountain which at this point was rocky and covered with a plentiful growth of white pine, hemlock and black spruce. Hidden behind an irregular heap of boulders and a small timber foreground was a cave formed by nature and natures and artistic elements that could not fail to delight the most prestigious one the seeker. The entrance was about the size of an ordinary doorway flanked by twin boulders like columns for an arched shelter. The cabin was a large room with fairly smooth walls and a ceiling of cillurian rock and sandstone. The cave, as it now appeared, would hardly have been recognised by its Aboriginal frequenters. It had been converted into a place of civil abode or resort retaining only enough of its pristine wildness for a romantic effect. The hunting hunter had done his work well. He had provided the heat for the cave by running a galvanised stove pipe up through a crevice in the rocks and filling with stones and cement all the surrounding vents to guard against the draining in of water from the mountain side. He also collected and stored at home a supply of old mattresses, blankets, kitchen utensils, a laundry stove and other domestic conveniences usable in a place of this kind. A week before vacation, he wrote thus to his 12-year-old brother Paul, I'm going to bring seven boys home with me. We are going to spend the vacation in the mountains with the cave as headquarters. Will you have the stove pulled there and put it up and keep a fire in it a good deal of the time to dry the place out thoroughly? We will come to Holly Hill on an early train so as to have plenty of time to haul the mattresses and other outfittings to the cave and get it ready for habitation. We will all have guns and will have some great times shooting game. Of course, you will be in on all this. Paul did as requested. When the patrol arrived at the hunter home he reported to his brother that the latter's instructions had been carried out and all was in readiness for the removal of the outing outfit from the storeroom over the garage to the cave. Everything but the mattresses were piled into Mr. Hunter's seven-passenger touring car. The eight boys piled in on top and the first run to their holiday headquarters was made. As the machine drove up toward the mouth of the cave the boys were startled at seeing two rough-looking men emerge from the entrance and slink away to the south, half-hidden by the unevenness of the ground and the thick shrubbery. Their hurried movements and evident desire to avoid meeting the boys marked them as suspicious characters, fearing that they might have committed some malicious act to render the place uninhabitable. Ernie hastened toward the cave followed by the other boys to make an inspection. Before entering, however, Ernie, who was the patrol leader asked four of the boys to return to the automobile. Division of the patrol with this in view was quickly arranged and Ernie, Clifford Long, Harry, Gilbert and Jerry McCracken proceeded into the cave. The entrance of the cave was protected against the coal by a heavy blanket hung over a pole anchored at either end in the rocky side at the top. On the other side, this wilderness portier, the four investigators stepped in lighting their way with two or three electric flashlights. They were relieved to discover that no damage had been done to the cave or to the stove set up within. After satisfying themselves on this score they proceeded to replenish the fire by putting in several cuts of spruce, a good supply of which had been provided by Ernie's brother. The cave was still warm and had been well dried out by the steady fire kept up by pull for two or three days. The entire patrol now reassembled and mapped out a plan for completing their day's work. It was decided that Ernie should return in the automobile to his home a mile and a half away and bring the mattresses and a supply of food that was being prepared for them at the house while the others took up themselves to the task of cutting a supply of brushwood to lay on the floor of the cave as a kind of spring support for the mattresses. Accordingly, Ernie got into the machine and drove away while the other boys got busy with the task assigned to them. The patrol leader returned in less than an hour accompanied by Paul and a farmhand employed by Mr Hunter. They brought with them not only four mattresses but the shotguns and rifles shipped by the boys from the academy for their mid-winter hunting. Ernie announced that their trunks and bellises also arrived and that George, the farmhand would return for them in the automobile. The work progressed rapidly and by the time the trunks and bellises arrived the mattresses were all in position. The food and cooking utensils were stored away in the narrow west compass of space that could be arranged for them and a large pile of resinous wood had been gathered. It was now four o'clock and the boys felt that they were entitled to arrest. A large boulder with a flat end two and a half feet in diameter was rolled into the cave and propped into position with slabs of stone for a table. On this was placed a large kerosene lamp which when burning lighted up the cave very well. A supply of camp chairs had been brought with the first load so that everybody had a seat. I call this something swell from the point of view of a smart rustic who hasn't absorbed any city nonsense. Observed Miles Berryman seating himself comfortably in a chair and gazing about with a great satisfaction. I think, Ernie, that we must all agree that you are a very wide awake opportunist. Is that the kind of musician who plays an opportune at every opportunity inquired John St John in a tone of gravity as deep as the cavern in which they were housed? Now see here, Johnny two times exclaim Miles potentially. You know what we came near doing to you six months ago for springing that kind of stuff. We came near ducking him in the lake, reminded Earl Hamilton. Yes, continued Miles in the attitude of a stage three and if we can't find a lake around here we can find a deep snow drift to throw him into. I wonder if he catches the drift of that argument. Said Clifford Long with a wink at Miles. He not only catches it but he understands and hence he does snow drift. Does no drift? Of what the menacing Miles means declared John who had long answered to the nickname of Johnny two times because of the combination of baptismal and family names by which he was legally known. A roar of pun protesting groans filled the cabin and as several of the boys arose in attitudes of vengeance the punster made a dive for an exit and disappeared beyond the blanket portfolio. None of the protesters followed. They did not feel like engaging in any vigorous sport following the strenuous exercises they had had. Five minutes later Johnny two times returned. One glance at his face was sufficient guarantee that he had lost all his punning for suspiciousness. He held in his hand a bit of paper which he laid on the stone table by the lamp. Read that boys. He exclaimed excitedly. I found it outside. Those men must have dropped it. Thereafter Mr. Stanlock going to hold him up. The ten other boys needed no second bidding. They crowded around so eagerly that nobody could read. Here I'll read it aloud said Clifford picking up the paper and holding it close to the lamp. Here is what he read. I will bring old Stanlock along the foothill pipe. We'll slow up in the sand stretch. Be there ready to grab him, Jake. End of Chapter 6 Chapter 7 of Campfire Girls In the Allegheny Mountains This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Campfire Girls In the Allegheny Mountains by Stella M. Francis Chapter 7 To the Rescue Boys, we've got to do something declared patrol leader Ernie Hunter breaking the gaping silence that followed the reading of the note. What shall we do? We must go to Mr. Stanlock's rescue. Ernie replied, There is no telling what those rescues are plotting. They may kill him if we don't get there in time to prevent it. It's a long hike and we may not be able to get there in time, Paul Hunter warned. That means we've got to move mighty fast, Ernie said.  I hope we won't have to use them, but we'd better be well prepared. We're going to be late getting back, so you may as well grab some bread and dried beef and anything else you can find in a jiffy tweet on the way. We've got to start in three minutes. Now everybody hustle. Paul, you and Deri had better run home and stay there till morning, Ernie added. Turning to his brother. Deri was scarcely any larger than Paul, although the latter was a year younger. Ernie felt a slightly nervous responsibility for the safety of the twin babies of the bunch, as someone had already referred to them in the course of the day. Deri, who liked Paul, was an extremely likable fellow, resented being called the baby of the patron. A term sometimes applied to him when the scouts were dealing in jocular personalities. Not much a we go and home, declared Paul energetically. Aren't we, Deri? I'm going along and carry my target rifle with the rest. What do you say, Deri? I'm with you, the latter announced, with spirit. They can't leave us behind. But you can't make the trip. Ernie insisted. We'll have to run part of the way and the ground is rough and the snow and ice on the road make it hard travelling. We've got over two miles of that kind of hiking to do, and less than an hour to do it in. We can make it just as well as anybody else in this bunch, declared Paul stoutly. Well, come along then. But you can't make the trip fast enough. Well, come along then. But you will have to obey orders, said Ernie, speaking as one with military authority. We're operating under martial law tonight, and if you insist on coming along, you must expect to be treated like a soldier. Everybody bring your gun and flashlight. It's cloudy now and will be dark before long. In scarcely more time than it takes to tell it, they always had possessed themselves of their guns, flashlights, overcoats, hats, and a bite to eat on the run, and were dashing out along the path, leading down to the road that skirted the foothill to the south wood. Presently, however, they slowed down to a dog trot at the suggestion of Clifford Long, who warned his fellow scouts against tuckering themselves out. They continued along in this manner half a mile, and then, by common consent, reduced their pace to a walking-long stride. As they proceeded thus, Ernie said to Clifford Long and one or two others nearest him, I'm afraid we've made a mistake in not doing one thing that has just occurred to me. What I ought to have done was to hurry home, got the automobile, and made a race for the police station, while you boys made this trip. In that way, we could have had a double chance of catching those bandits. If everything had gone smoothly, I might even have beaten you boys to the scene of the hold-up with an autoload of police. I could have left Word too for someone to call up Mr Stanlock's office and warn him. By any chance, he had been delayed. I don't think much of that suggestion, replied Clifford, for if they haven't got him started by this time, they're not likely to get him going their way tonight. But the other had been a good one. It's too bad you didn't think of it sooner. Too late now, said Ernie, we've got to make the best of it. Who do you suppose those two men are we saw come out of the cave? Miles Berryman inquired. The chances are, 99 out of 100, that this affair is connected directly with the strike, Clifford replied, with confident assurance. The highwaymen who plotted this scheme doubtless belong to the rougher element of the strikers. They are really dangerous men, and the community would be much safer if they were lodged in prison. How do you suppose they got your uncle to come away out here at the time when he usually starts home for dinner? That is, if he really came this way. Asked Helm Ethelson. That's the very thing that's bothering me most, Clifford replied, with puzzled air. Uncle is usually pretty shrewd, and I am pretty certain that if you try to put anything over on him, generally fine, that they have a hard job on their hands. I'd take it from the note Jerry found that this is a decoy game they're trying to work, Ernie remarked. It'd have to be a sharp one to get my uncle, declared Clifford. He's a very clever businessman. The smartest men get caught once in a while was Ernie's sage remark. That must have been a chauffeur who wrote that note. Observe Johnny St John. It read as if a chauffeur was the brains of this plot. If we get there on time, he won't have much to show for it. Show for it. Oh, Johnny twice, grown Earl Hamilton. Don't spoil your good deed of finding that note by springing any more of that stuff. You're taking an affair advantage of us. We can't stop now to duck you in a snow drift. The road was not broken all the way for good walking so that the boys were forced to put forth their best efforts in order to reach the place of the plotted ambush on time. Their pace, therefore, varied from a rapid walk to a run according as their wind and lead muscles supplied the needed endurance. Paul and Jerry found it pretty hard to keep up with the other boys during the last three quarters of a mile, especially when they struck a poorly broken snow drift or a stretch of ground covered with rocks or rough ice. They were quite elated, however, at their ability to keep their feet in these rough places after seeing two of the larger boys slip and fall. It was almost dark by the time they reached the vicinity of the sand stretch, referred to in the note found by Johnny two times. This stretch was a sand bed of several acres in extent between which an high peak was a large stone quarry. The road ran between the sand stretch, which, of course, was now frozen and covered with snow and the quarry. The approach to this was sheltered fortunately for the concealment of the boy rescuers by a growth of timber extending down the mountain slope to the road. Ernie called a halt about 200 yards from the point in the road, which appeared the most favorable place for an ambush. Let's leave the road and make our way through the trees, he suggested. There comes the automobile, exclaimed Paul excitedly, pointing down the road to the southwest. Yes, a machine was approaching about two miles away. The long stream of light from the electric lamps could be seen, almost hitting the sky, as the auto began to climb the steep hill. Evidently, it had just turned into this highway by another thoroughfare, leading direct from the city. Come on, we must hurry, said Ernie, dashing into the timber. Be careful, don't fall or run any branches in your eyes. They made fairly good progress, considering the difficulties before them and the darkness in the woods. However, they kept close to the edge where the tree growth was not very heavy and where the snow reflected sufficient light to guide their feet. Ernie ordered that none of the flashlights be used and perhaps it was fortunate for success at the expedition that this order was issued and obeyed. The efforts of the boys were well timed. Everything went like clockwork, or so it afterwards seemed. Two shadowy forms were discerned standing in the thick darkness under the trees as the automobile arrived near the southern edge of the quarry. The boys were within easy attacking distance from the place where the two men stood. Ernie whispered the word Holt, loud enough for his companions to hear him. They gathered around their leader who hurriedly spoke thus. Now everybody listened to me for orders. When I give the word fire, you, Paul, John, Harry and Jerry, fire your guns into the air. Be careful and shoot up toward the tops of the trees so as not to hit anybody. Then I'll give the order to charge and everybody let out an Indian war whoop or something of the sort. We won't have to do any more shooting. Now come on, we'll get closer. Those fellows are starting now.  The latter, according to the plan, outlined in his note discovered by Johnny two times, slowed down the machine before the highway men appeared. At the command to Holt, he came to a sudden stop and threw up his hands. Ready, fire, commanded Ernie in a loud voice. Two magazine shotguns and two target rifles exploded in quick succession without giving the two Holt up men time to determine whether they had been hit or not. The patrol leader issued his second order thus. Now boys, after them, charge. No quarter for the Rascals. Then followed a scene that, for rapidity of action, is not often surpassed by motion picture speed artists. End of Chapter 7 Chapter 8 At Campfire Girls in the Allegheny Mountains This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Campfire Girls in the Allegheny Mountains by Stella M. Francis Chapter 8 The Yves Dropper If the two masked highway men had been crouching in position for a foot race to be started at the shot of a pistol, they could hardly have sprung forward more suddenly or have sped down the road more rapidly. One glance over their shoulders at what doubtless appeared to them to be something like a regiment of armed men was pouring out at the timber, as one of the boys afterwards put it. Was enough to make them hot foot along hot enough to melt all the ice and snow in their path? All of the boys now produced the flashlights which they had carried in their pockets and turned them on to their own faces in order that Mr. Stanlock might see who they were and have no doubt that they were friends. This was according to one detail at their prearrange plan and worked successfully. The owner of the automobile recognised his nephew Clifford Long and the scout uniforms worn by the boys and realised at once that he had been rescued from the hands of a pair of unscrupulous rescues by a company of real boy heroes. He threw open the door, sprung out and begun shaking the hands of his rescuers in grateful appreciation of what they had done for him. I don't know what all this means, he said, but I've got wits enough to understand there's been some pretty tough rascality on foot and new boys have done me a very great service. We were hiking along this way and saw those two men with guns in their hands stop your machine, exclaim Clifford who thought at best not to reveal the discovery of the note in the presence of the chauffeur. You did mighty good work, declared the wealthy mine operator enthusiastically.  One would think that this holdup and the rescue were both plotted and planned some time ahead, judging by the skill with which you worked. I'm flatter as too much, uncle. You may tempt us to help along the deception by leading you to believe that we really are a remarkable bunch of boys, Clifford warned slyly. I not only believe it, but I know it, replied Mr. Stanlock with stubborn generosity. So if I am deceived, the fault is all my own. But Clifford, I didn't know you were in town. When did you come? You haven't been over at the house yet, have you? No, not yet, uncle. Clifford answered slowly. And I'm not coming over for a few days. The fact is, we are here on a hunting trip and a mystery mission, and we want you to help us keep our secret. Since we have proved ourselves to be a very unusual lot of boys, perhaps you will take special care to favour us in this respect. We are planning a surprise on the girls, and we don't want you to tell them we are in town. My lips are sealed until you unseal them, Mr. Stanlock assured them. But where are you staying? All of us are members of one patrol of Scouts at Spring Lake Academy, all except Paul Hunter. We came here on an invitation from Ernie Hunter, and we are living in a cave at the West End at Mr. Hunter's Farm. In a cave, Mr. Stanlock exclaimed, with some concern, isn't that rather an unhelpful place for you to live? You don't sleep there, I hope. We certainly do, uncle, or rather we are going to, for this is our first night. I wish you could come over and see it. It's as dry and warm as can be. Paul dried it out by keeping a stove burning in it for several days. A stove in a cave with Mr. Stanlock's astonished comment, that is surely some combination of wild nature and mechanical civilisation. I shall certainly inspect your domesticated wild and wooly retreat when I am invited to come. Any time, Mr. Stanlock, Ernie interposed with the hospitality of host, name your time and we'll be there to receive you. You'll have quite a walk to the cave tonight, and the walking isn't very good, I venture. Pile in, and I'll take you in the machine. I'm afraid we'll make more of a load than you can carry, said Ernie. This machine can carry seven, nine in a pinch, and eleven in a case of life and death, assured Mr. Stanlock. But I've got an idea that will cut off the life and death. I am bringing home a large sled that a young manual training student made for my seven-year-old son, Harold. It has a good, strong rope attached, and we will hitch it on behind, and two of the boys can ride on that. Let you and me hitch, said Paul to Gerry eagerly. Gerry was just as eager, and the problem of carrying ten passengers and the chauffeur was settled. One of you boys getting front with Jake and showing the way, suggested the owner of the automobile. Jake, the utterance of that name, sent a thrill through every one of the boys, all of whom recognized it as the name signed to the note that Johnny two times had found near the cave. Ernie climbed up with the driver. The sled was taken out and hitched on behind, and six of the boys piled in with Mr. Stanlock. As soon as Paul and Gerry called out, go ahead, they started. It was not quite as jolly an adventure as the two boys on the sled as they had expected. The road was pretty rough, and although the chauffeur obeying his employer's instruction drove carefully, the hitches were twice thrown off.  And finally the machine drew up in 150 feet of the cave. The boys and Mr. Stanlock left the automobile in charge of the driver and proceeded to the scout's hunting headquarters. The visitor proved that he had not lost all sympathy for his youthful days, for he declared that he would like nothing better than to return to his teens and spend a mid-winter vacation with the young hunters in their cave. After the inspection was completed, Clifford again broached the subject of the highway men's attack, saying, Uncle, we didn't tell you how we happened to be present when those two men stopped you tonight because we didn't want the chauffeur to hear what we had to say. The whole story is contained in this note, which one of the boys found after we had seen those men come out of the cave and hurry away. Here it is, read it. As you are more interested in it than anybody else, you may keep it. Clifford drew the folded paper from his vest pocket and gave it to Mr. Stanlock. The latter held it close to the lamp and read, That's Jake, my driver. It's his handwriting. I'm certain. What did we want to do that for? He must be in leave with those worst element of the strikers. Probably they paid him well for this or promised him a tempting bribe. Mr. Stanlock mused thus aloud as he studied over the note. The situation puzzled him. What ought he to do? Of course he must have the driver arrested and there must be an investigation by the police. But would it be safe for him to ask Jake to drive him home? Probably it would be safe enough for doubtless the driver had no desire to be openly connected with the plot. He was about decided to return home with the driver and say nothing to him about the note when a slight noise at the entrance attracted the attention of all. Listening carefully they could hear the sound of retreating footsteps. That's Jake, Mr. Stanlock exclaimed. He overheard us after him or he'll run away with the machine. The rush for the entrance threatened to cause some confusion and delay in getting out. Fortunately, however, the delay, if any, was not serious and the pursuit soon indicated that there were some real sprinters among the boys. As they emerged from the cave the driver was already within 50 feet of the machine. But he looked back over his shoulder and evidently thought better of his original purpose for he turned to the left and raced down the hill toward the road at another point leaping and striding with such recklessness that he seemed almost miraculous that he should escape a form and serious injury. Mr. Stanlock had no desire to attempt a capture at the traitorous chauffeur by physical force and when he saw that Jake had given up the idea of fleeing in the automobile he called the pursuit off. Then he announced his intention to drive the machine home himself taking the route that led past Mr. Hunter's home. He had no fear of further trouble with the driver or his confederates that he was certain that Jake was a coward at heart and the two highwaymen could hardly have arrived in the vicinity of the cave on foot since they were driven off in mad haste in the opposite direction even if they had been disposed to make another attack. Well, good night boys, he said taking his place in the driver's seat you've done me a service tonight that I won't forget very soon come and see me all of you after you have sprung your surprise on the girls I'll remember to keep your secret all right good night. He put his foot on the starter gave the steering wheel a few turns and the throbbing machine moved over the sloping stretch of ground between the cave and the road the boys, several of them with guns in their hands followed him to the road and still there ready to run to his assistance if they should see any evidences of another attack they continued to watch for 15 or 20 minutes until the lights of the automobile which pierced the darkness far ahead indicated that he had proceeded between 1 and 2 miles without interference End of Chapter 8 Chapter 9 of Camp Fire Girls in the Allegheny Mountains this LibriVox recording is in the public domain Camp Fire Girls in the Allegheny Mountains by Stella M. Francis Chapter 9 Mr. Stanlock surprised perhaps it were better not to attempt to describe with faithfulness at the detail the reception given Mr. Stanlock by his wife and family on his return home shortly before 9 o'clock that night the fear that something of serious nature had intervened to prevent his appearing at the usual dinner hour had taken firm hold of Mrs. Stanlock, Marion, sister Catherine and brother Harold. The fact that the police had been searching for him for two hours or more had been unable to make any hopeful report had not tended in the least to relieve the tension of suspense which became almost unbearable Then came the vague announcement of Mr. Stanlock's stenographer at the latter's home that he had been called away somewhere but left no definite information He had been called unexpectedly and left in a hurry that was all the stenographer could say This information was communicated to the police who increased the family's alarm by asking a string of questions over the telephone indicating the most direful suspicions Had Mr. Stanlock seen or heard anything which caused him to believe that the strikers might do him bodily harm if they had an opportunity Had he received any threatening letters Had he appeared nervous or was there anything in his manner which indicated that he was apprehensive of trouble not already well known to the public Marion and her mother answered some of these questions on the telephone and half an hour later a police lieutenant called at the house and made further enquiry There was no longer any possibility of dodging the most logical suspicions namely that Mr. Stanlock was the victim of a decoy plotted by some criminal element working with or under the shadow of the coal miner's strike and so the relief from this dread suspense was very great when he drove up to the house and walked in smiling as if nothing unusual had happened Marion fairly flew into her father's arms as if she had not seen him for 16 months Papa she cried almost hysterically where have you been all over the city and the police have been searching for you for nearly two hours why didn't you call us up and let us know you were going to be late I was intending to call you my dear replied Mr. Stanlock as he greeted her and the other members of the family with the rapid succession of hugs and kisses indicating in spite of his attempts that he had returned home not under the most ordinary circumstances why didn't you Marion insisted do you know what a state of mind you had to sing during the last two or three hours I delayed calling you because I wanted to find out how late I was going to be Mr. Stanlock explained then something happened and I wasn't near a telephone and something more delayed me and I decided to come directly home without stopping on the way to telephone what was it that happened Papa Marion demanded wasn't anything serious pretty serious girlie answered her father pinching her cheek but your daddy is an awfully brave man you know and he can't tell his daughter about the circumstances unless she can listen to the roaring of cannons and the yelling of Indians without flinching now Papa you're making fun of me Marion protested didn't anything really serious happen the police thought you must have been way laid I see there's no way out of it and I shall have to tell you girls a story a dream and dream nightmares filled with revolvers and sculpting figures and mask faces and lonely highways all of the 13 members and the guardian of Flamingo campfire Marion's mother sister and brother were present at this scene in the big living room of the Stanlock home Mr. Stanlock covered watched the faces of his auditors and was pleased to note that his bandying words were rapidly bringing the tension back to normal young master Harold at this point helped his father's purpose along remarkably by piping forth it's mighty funny if a man can't be out after dark without a lot of women jumping on him nobody with a grain of humour in his soul if that is where the sense of fun is located could have restrained a laugh at that remark in a moment it would have been difficult for any one of those present to realise how tragically serious they had all been a few minutes before after the chorus of laughter had subsided Mr. Stanlock sat down in a large upholstered armchair and remarked to his unconsciously brilliant son you are a great protector of women oppressed men aren't you Harold your cheap virtue along this line is your ability to get the philosophically high spots of everyday gossip but don't stop there my able young advocate do you realise that your father has had no dinner and that his exacting bevy of girls is going to force me to suffer the pangs of hunger until I have told my story I just told Mary the head maid to get your dinner ready Mr. Stanlock interposed smilingly you won't need to go hungry more than 15 minutes longer I say that you don't appreciate an eager and attentive audience marry and remark affecting to be deeply offended in behalf of their guests very well we'll wait until after you have satisfied a mere man's appetite and then we'll condescend to listen oh I can tell it in 15 minutes while Mary is warming over the meat and potatoes now get ready all you young ladies for the first shot I was really and truly held up held up exclaimed several of the girls in chorus yes held up with guns pointed at the chauffeur's head by two masked men on a lonely highway you're joking said Marion dubiously alright said the mine owner settling back comfortably in his chair you insisted on my telling my story and now that I have begun it you won't believe my first sentence yes I do believe it Papa Marion said repentantly going close to her father's chair and putting her arm around his neck I believe you were held up by two masked highway men with guns in a lonely spot as you say but how did you escape we were rescued by some boys although at the end of a sentence Mr. Stanlock stopped so quickly that only a dull person could fail to notice it his sudden stop of course was occasioned by the return to his mind of his promise to keep the secret of the boys scouts boys said Mrs. Stanlock wonderingly I didn't know we had any heroes at that time in Holly Hill they were some young fellows out hunting explained the narrator they witnessed the hold up and leveled their guns at the rascals and drove them away who were those boys Marion demanded and one might almost have imagined from her manner that she had half a kingdom to bestow on the rescuers of her father I'm afraid I can't give you their names Mr. Stanlock replied slowly you don't mean to say that you let them get away without finding out who they were do you? his daughter required with just a shade of indignation no, not exactly that for I can easily get all their names any time I want them but I know also that they don't wish to get into the newspaper in connection with this affair can't you tell me who some of them are Papa Marion pleaded I want to know who it was that perhaps saved the life of my father I can't tell you now Marion I have promised faithfully not to reveal their identity at present for very good reasons which they gave to me where is Jake the driver Henry asked Mrs. Stanlock I see you drove home alone Jake proved himself to be a scoundrel and a traitor and when he discovered that I had found him out he the most I expect to square out a warrant for his arrest tomorrow shortly before my usual time for coming home I received a letter by messenger supposedly from Mr. Milks chairman of the special hospital committee that is looking after the sick members of striking minors families I had been expecting a call of a meeting and this letter stated that it was important that I be present he lives out on the foothill pipe near the quarries I thought that I would make a quick run out there and call you up from his home and let you know how late I would be well I didn't get there it seems that Jake was one of the conspirators in a plot to get me out there and weigh Lamy by the way that makes me think I ought to call Milks up and find out if he did call a meeting the notice was on his stationery and it is just possible that wasn't a fake in a few moments Mr. Stanlock was talking with Milks on the phone the letter was astonished declared that he had no idea of calling a meeting that night well as slightly I kept the notice the mining president muttered that would be something interesting to show to the place tomorrow End of chapter 9


You know, somebody like Soldier Slim, he was really moving around in the area, you know what I mean? So I was able to see these people, so that inspiration came from, like, damn, you could really make it from here.  Like, that you was like, they dope and, and you know what I mean? Whether it be female or male, it doesn't matter. Lauren Hill is one of my favorites of all time. That's her again today. Yeah, she's hot on the press right now. Yeah, Lauren Hill is one of my favorites. I mean, Lauren Hill is one of my favorites of all times. Um, I like Nas, I like, it's really hard to say because it's ever-changing, to be honest.  That influenced my music more than watching somebody because I understand the human. And I understand there's a lot of different filters before what they make get to me. So I only get to see a fraction of them. But I get to see a hundred percent of these streets. And the streets really inspire me to make what I make. Do you, when you think of New Orleans, though, I think of Soldier Slim and all these other people, these big influences, like, how was, how was it coming up in being from New Orleans and hearing the stories about Soldier Slim? Well, I grew up on Delashe Street in the third wall of town. So right around the block on the parkway is where the producer KLC, his family. Yeah. So KLC. He called me his niece. Yeah, yeah, he called me his, his goddaughter. Yeah. So he, um, he used to always be on that block. And so the slum would come there and that's the people drive because the whole little family used to live on the next block. So I was able to see in real time somebody who I'm seeing on TV. And then they're right here, they're right here. And then, you know, somebody like Soldier Slim, he was really moving around in the area. You know what I mean? So I was able to see these people. So that inspiration came from like, damn, you could really make it from here. Yeah, because they still come around here. You know what I mean? So it was something that really inspired me in real time when you would see KLC. And what did he say it's anything that inspired you? Did he ever talk to you about anything? KLC. What I would do was, um, I used to walk around that area and I would have my headphones in or I would be moving my hands like this, hoping that, you know, somebody would tell him and it worked. Like his family said, you're a rap because one of them stopped me and said, would you rap or something? I would go to the bus stop. But I'm, I'm like by myself. So they knew that I was rapping. One of them asked me to rap. I did. They family is huge. So then they started to tell KL and then KL, when KL came around that, you know, they introduced me to him. So that's how I met him. Wow. And that's a dope thing, man, because he, he did a lot of music down there.  Like that's the whole game. Like, like the music down there and what it hit different down there. You know what I mean? You're honest is a special place is different. Like when you look at even, even when Cash Money first came up, you were young and you've seen that as well. Like, what did you think of their movement? When it first took off? Um, I mean, it was, it was impactful because, like I said, seeing anybody make it from New Orleans is going to impact you. Even if you not necessarily, you know, immediately affected by it, or you're not a part of it, you still, there's not a lot of people that make it out in that way. And I know that's cliche. A lot of people say that, but it's real.  That's why people love New Orleans because we preserve our history. We preserve our culture.  So when somebody makes it out and puts us on display, you know what I mean? That's very, that's, you know, it makes a lot of sense for us. We, we aspire by it. But even, even, and I'll say this before I know you got something for that. But even to see D1, he was just on Breakfast Club the other day. He's one of y'all natives. Yeah. Yeah. And he was so excited about that. But he did say came on Boss Talk first and I loved it. He helped me laughing on lives. He shouts us out all the time. But to see him to come in even the way he comes, even though it's a, it's from a positive standpoint. He's trying to figure out ways to, you know, to really get his message out there to the kids that he affects because he teaching school. I think that's so hard. And I think it's dope because everybody can be touched in a certain way from a certain aspect, but to be from New Orleans and to see some of the things he talked about with me and to see who he is now today. You know, doing the things he's doing is big. So how was it for you when you've seen him being from New Orleans and being in the place he is? D1. Yeah. Oh, it's inspiring. Me and D1, me and D1 have done a lot of things together. Like we just did Jazz Fest last year together. We worked together like, yeah, yeah. So D1 has always been someone that's very genuine, you know what I mean? When he's speaking about his, his mission. So seeing him be able to spread that is something that's incredible to see. You know what I mean? There's so many voices from New Orleans. Like I work with PJ Martin. There's so like a vast, yeah, there's a vast array of artists, different type of artists in New Orleans. So anytime someone like him, he stand true to his message, it's beautiful to see. Beautiful. Man. How do you cope with mental health or depression? Because, you know, we all go through different things because the devil comes at you in your mind all the time with negative thoughts. As much as sometimes we don't say it, it comes in your mind, different ways and forms. How do you get over that? How do you surpass that?  I'm still learning. So I don't think that I can see here and say that there's one main thing.  There was, there was, I spoke about it on the album. And there's a song produced by Bink. It's called The Sad Part.  And in that song, I speak about how certain things affected me. And music had always been a mainstay for me. Being close to my grandmother, she was pouring into me. But when I lost her, you know, I lost that positive thing in my life. I stopped making music for a minute, you know what I mean?  You know what I'm saying? So once I realized it didn't help at all. So once I realized, like, wait, I subtracted these positive things out of my life or they were subtracted out of my life, this has changed.  So I started to implement more of the things that really kept me on a positive in a positive place. So I spent a lot of time by myself. I like to go walking. I was about that. That's where you go to Stoney. Yeah, yeah, yeah, I go I go walking. Sometimes I make I make my music, you know what I mean? And I try to stay in touch with myself. I try to stay in tune with with me and my thoughts and don't let the negativity get to me. Come on now. But it's easier said than done, though. Yes. It ain't that. Practice makes perfect. The more you practice a certain state of mind is the easier your walk gets. Wow. I also stopped drinking, too. So that was a major thing. Yeah, yeah. How long ago? It's about it's close to six months now. So how is it hard? Really, it's not. It's not like I have anxiety.  It's just something. So I used to drink to kind of loosen up. Right.