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Dorothy Dale's Camping Days

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<hr /> <h2>CHAPTER VIIIToC</h2> <h3>THE WILD ANIMAL</h3> "Perfectly delicious," Tavia was exclaiming, in her reckless way, "never believed a barn could be thus converted into a home." She tossed aside her traveling things. "And so sweet of you, Cologne, to ask poor me. The old joke, as if Rose-Mary-Cologne-Lavender could be other than sweet!" "And so dear of you to get here," said Dorothy, with mocking voice. "We really thought——" "Doro, dear, if you only would get over that abominable thinking habit! See what happened to me when I thought I was was going to be locked up for the night in the little railroad station! Why, along whisked an auto, and the lady with the scared-to-death-hair looked at me. Seeing me was believing. The chaufferine (it was a lady and my French is packed up) asked me in. That was what I got for thinking on the wrong stoop. And weren't they dears? Did you mind the veils? First I thought they were hoisted for rain clouds, and again, when I saw the blues and pinks, I decided for fair weather. There were enough colors to make a rainbow look like the milky way. And they asked me to come see them! Asked me! Why they begged me and made me give a cross-my-heart yes." "But you won't go?" asked Cologne. "You know the Lamberts are—well—they are a troup of theatrical folks, and no one knows much about them." "The only profession that hides the ego," broke in Tavia. "Now that is what I call cozy, to get away from the dear old nosey public. I wonder the whole world does not go in for the stage, and get a chance to walk through the streets, and have folks say, 'Isn't she perfectly sweet!' All the while one could be sticking out her tongue, and otherwise enjoying herself—" "Tavia!" exclaimed Dorothy. "Do talk something akin to common sense if you cannot do better. And don't mix up your pronouns. You keep one bobbing through tenses and pronouns as if the thinker were a jack-in-the-box." "All the same I would love to go over to that big white house in the cherry trees, and see a dress rehearsal. They play Shakespeare." "You must not think of such a thing," declared Dorothy. "Since Cologne does not wish you to go in the strange set, you will surely comply, but I do not have to tell you that I am sure you will," and she turned away in evident distress. The next morning the three girls started to camp in earnest. Tavia insisted that it was her share of work to fetch one pail of water from the spring, because, she said, she had to stoop down so low, and walk so far the effort was equal to Dorothy's dish-washing or Cologne's muffin-making. "While you do the rest," she said, "I'll just run up, and look over the loft, the boys are out now, and Dorothy won't be afraid I'll forget my manners." "You come here directly, and set this table for lunch," ordered Dorothy. "We are going out for trout, and will not be in until eating time, so we will get everything ready now." "All right," answered Tavia, at the same time climbing up the ladder, and making her way to the loft. "Oh, let her explore," said Cologne. "Then when she gets enough of it she will be satisfied." "Don't touch any of the old guns up there," called Dorothy, "Jack says there are dangerous." "All righty!" yelled Tavia from above. "But say wouldn't this be a handsome place to drop from?" She was in the opening of the hay loft, lying on the floor with her head over the edge. "Oh don't" begged Cologne. "Tavia, that is dangerous!" Her voice was rather strained, Cologne was annoyed. Tavia jumped up, and, with a most unladylike "whoop," ran from one end of the loft to the other, exclaiming at every new found article of interest. Suddenly she stopped. "Now what do you suppose she is at?" asked Dorothy, as she and Cologne listened. "Maybe Jack's pipes. I am sure she would be interested in them. He has quite a collection." "Oh! G-i-r-l-s!" came a shout from the loft. "Come quick! A wild animal!" The voice left no room for doubt. Tavia did see something. Cologne and Dorothy dropped their work and scrambled up the ladder. "Over here!" Tavia was on all fours, peering behind an old door that lay close to the side timbers of the barn. "Just look! His hair stands up like a porcupine, and his eyes! Oh, my! such eyes!" Cologne and Dorothy looked. "There certainly is something," admitted Cologne. "It has straight black hair," exclaimed Dorothy, "and it does look fierce!" "What shall we do?" asked Cologne. "Jack will not be back until night." "And if we take our eyes off it we run the risk of having it under the bed to-night," said Tavia. "Now if only we could shoot a gun," and she looked at the line of weapons that decorated the side of the loft. "I can load and fire a gun," declared Dorothy. "Wasn't my father a soldier?" "Wasn't her father a soldier!" repeated Tavia. "Cologne you hump down there, and keep your eye on the bear, while we get a gun, and load it. Then if it's all the same to you, I'll do down stairs, and out in the back yard until it is all over. I hate murder close by." "I'll choose my own gun, if you please," said Dorothy, as Tavia was about to hand her an old musket. "I like the vintage of the last century at least." "Are you sure you won't hurt yourself?" asked Cologne anxiously. "I think perhaps we had best try to box the thing in here. Shooting is rather risky." "Not if I can get a gun I happen to know," said Dorothy. "You may both go out in the back yard if you choose. I must try the rifle first—oh, here is one just like father gave Joe his last birthday. I had a mind to borrow it to come out here to Maine woods, but I never dreamed of getting game right in camp." "Don't shoot dis niggah!" pleaded Tavia, actually making for the ladder. Dorothy went over to the open window and put the rifle to her shoulder. She pulled the trigger. There was no discharge. Not satisfied with one trial she worked the rifle until there was positively no possibility of any load being in the weapon. "There, that's clean," she said. "Now for the cartridge." Over on the wall hung Jack's ammunition box. Cologne was watching at a safe distance. Tavia had gone downstairs by way of a rope that Jack Markin used for descending. Dorothy put the load in, made sure it was all right, then went over to the beast's hiding place. She crouched down and took aim. "Do—be—careful, Dorothy." Crack! "There! That fetched him!" exclaimed Dorothy. "I saw him roll over." "Make sure he is dead before you pull the door away," again cautioned Cologne. "Dead as a carpet tack," declared Dorothy. "Let's call Tavia and get her to pull him out. She ought to do something in this, our first hunt." Tavia was called, and being assured that the thing had rolled the death roll, she came up the ladder, and with the aid of a long handled hay rake, she just ventured to touch the strange thing. "It's dead!" This was the signal for a series of antics such as Tavia might imagine to be popular in the Figi Islands when some real dainty morsel fell into the camp kettle. "Oh, let us see what it is!" ordered Cologne. "Maybe we won't have to go trout fishing, it may do for dinner." "It may, then again it may not," replied Tavia. "But May or Mamie, let's haul her out." Dorothy put her shoulder to the frame door, back of which the thing was hidden. "One, two, three!" she shoved it over. "Are you ready?" "Let her go!" called Cologne, springing up on an old trunk. But it didn't go, neither did it come. The girls waited breathlessly. "Pull him out, Tavia! What's the use standing there with a rake in your hand," said Dorothy. "I want to make sure he does not revive," she replied, gingerly poking the rake handle a little further under the hidden corner. "Oh, here," exclaimed Dorothy impatiently. "Let me take that implement and you hold this door. We ought to get the animal out in time for lunch." They shifted positions. Dorothy jabbed the rake recklessly into the corner. Tavia moaned, and Cologne groaned. Drag—drag—It was coming out. "Mercy!" exclaimed Tavia. "Goodness me!" gasped Cologne. But Dorothy, who was the only one near the thing, simply dropped the rake and stood aghast—too dumbfounded to utter a syllable! "What is it?" begged Cologne. "A WINDOW BRUSH!" she gasped, at the same moment stooping to pick up the beast—the thing with the straight, long black hair that stood up in fierce bristles! <div class="fig"> style="width: 55%;"> <ANTIMG border="0" src="images/dorothy3.jpg" alt=""A WINDOW BRUSH!" SHE GASPED."" /> "A WINDOW BRUSH!" SHE GASPED. Dorothy Dale's Camping Days                                   Page 84 </div> "But the eyes!" asked Tavia. "I saw terrible eyes!" "Might have been imported fire flies," answered Dorothy. "I believe Jack has a penchant for odd bugs!" "Oh, isn't that too mean!" "And Jack's good cartridges!" "But the brush is all right," declared Cologne. "We just needed a window brush to make the camp outfit complete. But don't let's tell the boys," she pleaded hastily. "Oh, no!" chimed Tavia and Dorothy. Then all three in turn took the rope route down to the lower floor. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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