The Camp Fire Girls; Or, The Secret of an Old MillGaris, Howard Roger
Philosophy
The Camp Fire Girls; Or, The Secret of an Old Mill
Garis, Howard Roger
Camp Fire Girls -- Juvenile fiction; Haunted places -- Juvenile fiction; Mystery and detective stories
“Can you describe your mother’s ring?”
“Sure.”
“Then come along with me and I’ll write it down so as to have it when I
send out the alarm.”
“Then we’ll get back to your house, Phil,” suggested Blake. “We’ll tell
your mother and sister about it.”
“All right. I’ll come as soon as I can.”
It needed but a look at the faces of the two lads, as they entered the
house a little later, to tell the four girls, and Mrs. Anderson, that
their errand had been fruitless.
“Oh mother!” cried Mabel. “It’s all my fault!”
“Nonsense!” declared her mother, though there was a dull ache in her
heart at the loss of her beautiful ring.
“We’re going to get on their trail the first thing in the morning!”
declared Jack fiercely. “They can’t get far away—a Gypsy tribe is too
conspicuous to hide away very long.”
The boys told of their chase, and explained Phil’s absence, though
before they had finished he came in. Then it all had to be gone over
with again, so that it was quite late when the five left Mabel’s house.
“Wo-he-lo!” chorused Alice, Natalie and Marie, as they waved good-night
to Mabel and Phil. “Wo-he-lo!”
“What’s that?” demanded Jack, rather surprised at the musical intonation
of his sister and her two chums.
“The call of our camp,” explained Natalie. “It is made up of the first
two letters of the words—work—health—love. Isn’t it pretty?”
“Love?” asked Blake mischievously.
“Silly!” murmured Natalie.
“Say it again,” demanded Jack.
“Wo-he-lo!
Wo-he-lo!
Dogwood! Dogwood Camp!
Ho! Ho!”
Thus chanted Marie.
“Bravo!” complimented Jack. “That will do as a war-whoop to scare the
Gypsies—when we find them,” he added more soberly.
“See you at the Academy to-morrow,” called Mabel, as she and her mother
and brother went off the steps.
“Wo-he-lo!” gurgled Natalie deep in her throat. She was half Indian,
some of her friends used to say, and they often called her Pocahontas.
“Wo-he-lo!”
“The call of the camp,” murmured Jack. “I wonder if they really will go
off to the woods?”
“We’d have no end of good times if they did,” replied his chum in a low
voice. “We could camp near them, go on picnics, off rowing, in a
motor——”
“Don’t count too much,” interrupted Jack. “Girls are finicky creatures.
They may change their minds half a dozen times before vacation.”
As Natalie’s home was not much out of their way, Jack and Marie went in
that direction with her, Blake and Alice going part of the distance.
“We’ll get on the trail of the false but beautiful Gypsy girl after
class to-morrow,” called Blake to Jack, as they parted.
“Sure thing. Good-night!”
CHAPTER V
OFF TO THE WOODS
“Aren’t they just too dear for anything?”
“And such an artistic color!”
“That olive brown is so becoming to you, Natalie.”
“Oh, I think it suits all of you as well!”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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