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THE OUTDOOR GIRLS IN ARMY SERVICE

OR

DOING THEIR BIT FOR THE SOLDIER BOYS

BY

LAURA LEE HOPE

AUTHOR OF "THE OUTDOOR GIRLS OF DEEPDALE," "THE MOVING PICTURE
GIRLS," "THE BOBBSEY TWINS," "BUNNY BROWN AND HIS SISTER SUE," ETC.

1918

THE OUTDOOR GIRLS IN ARMY SERVICE

CONTENTS

    I  "I'VE VOLUNTEERED!"
   II  GRIM SHADOWS OF WAR
  III  NEWS FROM THE FRONT
   IV  THE POWDER MILL
    V  A SHOT IN THE DARK
   VI  MOONLIGHT AND MYSTERY
  VII  ROBBED
 VIII  THE BIG GAME
   IX  GAY CONSPIRATORS
    X  MAGIC LANTERNS
   XI  A SLACKER?
  XII  HONOR FLAGS
 XIII  "SMILE, GIRLS, SMILE"
  XIV  THE SPY AGAIN
   XV  MORE SURPRISES
  XVI  THE HOSTESS HOUSE
 XVII  HELPING UNCLE SAM
XVIII  THE EVENING GUN
  XIX  FLAMES
   XX  THE RESCUE
  XXI  ALLEN A HERO
 XXII  MAKING GOOD
XXIII  JUST FRIENDS
 XXIV  CAPTIVE AND CAPTORS
  XXV  THE MYSTERY EXPLAINED

CHAPTER I

"I'VE VOLUNTEERED!"

"Well, who is going to read the paper?"

Amy Blackford stopped knitting for a moment, the half-finished
sweater suspended inquiringly in the air, while she asked her
question and gazed about impatiently at her busy group of friends.

"It's your turn, anyhow, Mollie," she added, fingers flying and head
bent as she resumed her work. "You haven't read to us for five days."

"Oh, don't bother me," snapped the one addressed as Mollie. She was
black-haired and black-eyed, was Mollie Billette, with a little touch
of French blood in her veins that accounted for her restless vivacity
and sometimes peppery temper. "You've made me drop a stitch, Amy
Blackford, and if anybody else speaks to me for the next five
minutes, I'll eat 'em."

"Well, as long as you don't eat any more of my chocolates, I don't
care," remarked Grace Ford, lazily helping herself to one of the
threatened candies. "I had a full box this morning, and now look at
them."

"Haven't time to look at anything," returned Mollie crossly, fishing
in vain for the lost stitch. "If the poor soldiers depended upon the
sweaters you made, Grace, I'd feel sorry for them, I would indeed!"

"Oh, dear, girls, now what's the matter?"

Framed in the doorway of the cottage stood Betty Nelson, their adored
"Little Captain," fresh and sweet as the morning itself, smiling
around at them inquiringly.

"What is the matter?" she repeated as they moved up to make room for
her on the veranda steps. "I'm more afraid than ever to leave you
alone these days when every dropped stitch means a quarrel. Give it
to me, Mollie, I'll pick it up for you."

With a sigh, Mollie relinquished the tiresome sweater and Betty went
to work at it with a skill born of long practice.

"There you are," she announced triumphantly, after an interval during
which the girls had watched with eager eyes and bated breath. "That
was a mean one. Thought it was going to make me rip out the whole
row--but I showed it! Now, please, don't anybody drop any more. I
must finish that pair of socks to-day."

"Oh, dear," sighed Amy resignedly. "Then our last hope is gone."

"Goodness, that sounds doleful," chuckled Betty, stretching her arms
above her head and reveling in the brilliant sunshine. "What
particular thing seems to be the matter now, Amy? Has Will been
misbehaving?"

Amy flushed vividly and bent closer over her work.

"How could he be when he's been in town for over a week?" she
retorted with unusual spirit. "It's just that nobody will read the
paper, and I'm just dying to hear the news. I want to keep up with
the times."

"Well, if that's all," said the Little Captain, sitting up with
alacrity, "I'm always willing to oblige. Mollie, you're sitting on
it!"

"Knit one, purl two," chanted Mollie. "Wait till I get this needle
off and I'll give it to you. I can't stop now!"

"All right, then I'm going to get my knitting."

Betty made as though to rise but Amy held her down and turned
despairingly to Mollie.

"Mollie," she pleaded, "be reasonable. You know very well that if
Betty ever gets started with her knitting then nobody'll read the
news."

"Knit one, purl two, knit one, purl two," sang Mollie imperturbably.
"There, now, isn't that beautiful?"

She sprang from the seat and whirled around upon them, holding up the
almost-finished sweater for their inspection.

"Isn't it beautiful?" she repeated enthusiastically.

"Of course," said Grace, dryly, while Betty deftly grabbed the paper.
"It's the most beautiful and most curious thing I ever laid eyes on.
It isn't as though," she added, with biting sarcasm, "I had seen
hundreds just like it within the last month or two--"

"Oh, you can't make me mad," said Mollie, settling down with energy
to the final finishing. "You're just jealous, that's all, and the
more you turn up your nose, the more you show your real feelings."

"Oh, is that so?" retorted Grace, reaching out for the candy box for
the twentieth time that morning. "Well, as my kind of nose has never,
under any circumstances whatsoever, been known to turn up--"

"Oh, do stop chattering," Mollie interrupted heartlessly. "Who cares
what kind of noses we've got? Go ahead, Betty, you'd better get
started before Grace gets to quarreling on the subject of eyelashes
or something."

"I never quarreled with my eyelashes," said Grace haughtily. "I leave
that to other people."

"My, isn't she conceited!" chuckled Betty. "Now I'm going to read,"
she added, letting her eyes rest upon the glaring headlines of the
first page. "If you want to listen, all right; and if you want to
talk about sweaters and eyelashes--"

"Oh, Betty, do go on," sighed Amy. "We've been waiting so long."

"All right," said Betty obligingly; then, as the full sense of what
she read was borne in upon her, her face clouded and she bit her lip
and shook her head.

"Girls," she began, and something in her tone made them drop their
knitting for a moment and gather anxiously about her. "Those,
those--Germans--"

"Huns, you mean," interrupted Mollie fiercely, as she read over the
Little Captain's shoulder.

"Have sunk another of our ships," said Betty, her lips set in a
straight line. "And--and they think the loss will be heavy. Oh,
girls, I can't read it--it's too horrible!"

She flung down the paper, but Mollie snatched it almost before it
reached the step. Then with eyebrows drawn together, and twin spots
of red flaming in either cheek, she read the account of the disaster
from beginning to end.

"There," she said at last, flinging down the paper and glaring about
her as though the girls themselves were at fault. "Now you see what
we're knitting sweaters for, and--and--everything! Oh, if I could
just put on a uniform, and take up a gun and--and--go after
those--those awful Huns!"

"Goodness, if you looked like that," commented Grace, "you wouldn't
have to fire a shot. They'd all drop dead just from fright."

"So much the better," said Mollie, beginning to knit again
ferociously. "It would be a shame to waste good ammunition on them."

"I wonder," said Betty thoughtfully, her eyes on the far-off horizon,
"what the boys are going to do. They've seemed so mysterious lately,
and the minute you begin to question them about enlisting, they
change the subject."

"Yes, and it's made me desperate," cried Mollie, the tempestuous,
flinging down the unfortunate sweater once more. "I know what I'd do
if I were a man, and Betty and all the rest of us girls! But either
they didn't know or they wouldn't tell. Do you suppose--"

"They've decided to wait for the draft?" finished Grace, settling her
cushions more comfortably. "That's a funny thing to say, Mollie--about
our boys."

"I know," said Mollie, knitting more furiously than ever. "But just
the same, I can't understand why they have been so terribly secretive
about it."

"I guess we needn't worry about that," said Betty, although there was
a little worried line between her brows that belied her words. "Allen
wouldn't--" here she stammered, stopped and flushed, while the girls
turned laughing eyes upon her.

"Of course," she added hastily, "I mean that none of the boys would
hesitate, when it's a question of serving his country."

"That's all right, but you said Allen," teased Mollie, unconvinced.
"And oh, Betty, how you blushed!"

"Nonsense!" returned Betty, blushing more than ever. "It's just
sunburn, that's all. Now do you want me to read the rest of the news,
or don't you? Because I have to finish those socks--"

"Yes, yes, go on," cried Amy. "We won't say another word, Betty."
Which was funny, coming from quiet Amy, who usually spoke one word to
the other girls' ten.

So Betty read the news from one end of the paper to the other, until
even those insatiable young people were content, then ran into the
cottage to get her knitting.

"Now," she said, returning and seating herself with businesslike
alertness on the very edge of the step, "you'll see some real speed."

"Oh, Betty, have you come to the heel?" cried Mollie, running over to
the Little Captain, and regarding the flying needles with a sort of
awe. "Please show me how. They say the Red Cross needs socks for the
boys more than they need anything else. And I know I'll never learn
to do them."

"Oh, it's easy," returned Betty, obligingly slowing down for their
benefit, while they gathered about her, eager and bright-eyed, for
the lesson.

They formed a pretty picture, this group of outdoor girls, with the
morning sunlight falling upon graceful figures and bent heads, ardent
little patriots, every one of them, whole-heartedly eager to give
their all for the service of their country.

They were still engrossed in watching Betty's nimble fingers, when
the shrill and familiar whistle of the little ferryboat caught their
attention.

"Oh, I didn't know it was time," Amy was beginning, when Mollie
interrupted her.

"It's stopping here," she cried. "And somebody's getting off."

"It's the boys!" cried Betty, springing to her feet, the bright color
again flooding her face. "They never told us they'd be back to-day.
There's Allen. Oh, tell me, what is it he is shouting?"

The little ferryboat had steamed away, and four figures were racing
toward them.

"Betty," yelled the foremost of these. "I've volunteered--I've
volunteered!"

CHAPTER II

GRIM SHADOWS OF WAR

"What is that he is yelling?" questioned Mollie.

"He said something about volunteering," returned Betty.

"Volunteering!" came from Mollie, Grace and Amy simultaneously, and
in the excitement of the moment, their knitting was completely
forgotten.

And now while the girls are waiting for the boys to come up, let me
take just a moment to tell my new readers something concerning these
girls and the other volumes in this series of books.

The leader of the quartette was Betty Nelson, often called the
"Little Captain." Betty was a bright, active girl, who always loved
to do things.

Grace Ford was tall and slender, and a charming conception of young
womanhood. She had a brother, Will, who at times was rather hasty,
and occasionally this would get him into trouble, much to the
annoyance of his sister. Grace herself had one failing, if such it
could be called. She was exceedingly fond of chocolates, and was
never without some of this confection in her possession.

Some years before there had been a mystery concerning Amy Blackford.
She had then been known by the name of Stonington, but the mystery
had been unraveled by the finding of her long lost brother, Henry
Blackford. Amy was of a quiet disposition, and more timid than any of
the others.

The quartette was completed by Mollie Billette, often called "Billy."
Mollie was the daughter of a well-to-do widow of French ancestry, and
the girl was a bit French herself in her general make-up.

In our first volume, entitled "The Outdoor Girls of Deepdale," the
particulars were given of the organization of a camping and tramp
club by the girls, and of how they went on a tour, which brought
them many adventures.

After this first tour the Outdoor Girls went to Rainbow Lake, and
then took another tour, this time in a motor car. After that, they
had some glorious days on skates and iceboats while at a winter camp,
and then journeyed to Florida, where they took a trip into the wilds
of the interior, and participated in many unusual happenings.

Returning from the land of orange groves, the girls next took a trip
to Ocean View. Here they had a glorious time bathing, and otherwise
enjoying themselves, and also solved the mystery surrounding a box
that was found in the sand.

During those strenuous days the girls had made many friends,
including Allen Washburn, who was now a young lawyer of Deepdale.
Allen had become a particular friend of Betty's, and this friendship
seemed to be thoroughly reciprocal.

Will Ford's particular high-school chum had been Frank Haley, and as
a consequence, Frank had been drawn into the circle, along with Roy
Anderson, another young man of the town.

These young fellows often went off camping, and usually in the
vicinity of where the girls had planned to spend their outing days.

Deepdale was a picturesque city of about fifteen thousand people,
located on the Argono river, which, some miles below, emptied into
Rainbow Lake. Back of Deepdale was a rich farming country, which
tended to make the town a prosperous one.

Returning from Ocean View, the girls started on a new outing, as
related in the volume before this, entitled "The Outdoor Girls on
Pine Island." The girls occupied a bungalow, which had been turned
over for their use by an aunt of Mollie Billette. The boys were in a
camp near by.

Quite by accident both girls and boys had stumbled upon a gypsy cave,
cleverly hidden in the underbrush, and had afterward succeeded in
rounding up the entire gypsy band, incidentally regaining some
property which had been stolen from the girls.

Now, at the time our story opens, the Outdoor Girls were again at
Pine Island, in the cottage lent them by "Aunt Elvira"; but times had
changed, and they were no longer solely upon pleasure bent. The
grumbling, menacing unrest of war seemed in the very air they
breathed, and from dawn to evening they thought of very little else.

Now at the ringing shout, "I've volunteered," they were on their
feet, fairly trembling with excitement and eagerness.

"Allen, Allen!" cried Betty, the color flaming into her face. "Oh,
I'm so glad! I'm so glad!"

"Gee, he's not the only one," cried a big, strapping lad, Frank
Haley, by name, throwing himself upon the steps, and looking up at
the girls triumphantly. "Just because he can run faster than we can,
he gets all the credit."

"You, too, Frank?" cried Betty, turning upon him with shining eyes.

"And here comes Roy," put in Mollie. "Did he--"

"You just bet he did," Roy Anderson, red and perspiring, answered for
himself. "Did you ever hear of an Irishman staying out of a fight?
I'm aching already to get my hands on Fritz."

"What's the matter with Will?" asked Grace a little anxiously, for
the young fellow coming slowly toward them with downcast eyes and
bent head was her brother. "He looks as if he'd lost his last
friend."

Seven pairs of eyes were immediately focused upon the apparently
despondent figure, while the boys shifted uneasily and looked vaguely
troubled.

"Hello, folks," Will saluted them, as he sank down upon the lower
step, and looked out toward the water. "Why the sudden hush?"

For a moment no one spoke. They were all strangely embarrassed by
this unusual attitude of Will's. He had always been so frank and
outspoken. And now--

"Oh, for Pete's sake, say something!" he burst forth at last, looking
up at the silent group defiantly. "You were making enough noise
before, but the minute I come along, you just stop short and stare. I
didn't know I was so fascinating."

"You're not," said Mollie promptly.

With an impatient grunt, Will stuffed his hands into his pockets and
stalked off into the woods.

"Well," said Grace, with a long sigh, "I never saw Will act that way
before. Now what's the matter?"

"Indigestion, probably," said Allen, trying to pass it off. "He acts
just the way I feel when I have it. Which reminds me that I'm getting
mighty all-fired hungry."

"Well, you don't get anything to eat," said Betty decidedly, "until
you tell us all about everything, since the day you left here so
mysteriously to the present time."

"Seems we've got to sing for our supper--or rather, breakfast," said
Frank with a grin. "Go ahead, Allen, but be brief. I want some of
Betty's biscuits."

"Goodness, do you suppose Betty's going to start in and cook
biscuits, now?" cried Mollie. "Why, we just got through our own
breakfast."

"Well, we didn't," said Roy, nibbling a piece of grass for want of
something better. "And you ought to take it as a proof of our
devotion, that we didn't stop for any. We were too anxious to get
here to tell you our news."

"And blow a little," scoffed Mollie, the irrepressible.

"Oh, for goodness' sake stop talking," entreated Betty, with her
hands to her ears. "If the boys want biscuits they shall have them--if
I have to stay up all night to cook some for them. They can have
anything in the house, as far as I'm concerned."

"Hear, hear!" cried the boys in chorus, looking up admiringly at her
flushed face.

"If volunteering has that effect," Roy added, "I'm going back and do
it all over again."

"You said it," agreed Frank. "Gee, but I'm hungry!"

"Did you say we could have anything we wanted?" Allen was demanding
of the Little Captain in an undertone. "No exceptions?"

"None," said Betty, dimpling.

"Then," said Allen deliberately, his eyes fixed steadily upon her
sparkling face. "If you please--I'll take--you!"

"Oh," gasped Betty, her eyes falling before the young lawyer's ardent
gaze, while the rich color flooded her face. "I said anything--not
anybody. Allen, please don't be foolish. They're all looking at us."

"Well, you can't blame 'em," Allen retorted whimsically. "They're not
used to seeing two such good-looking people together," he added in
bland explanation.

"My, don't we hate ourselves!" said Betty, dimpling again. "But go
ahead and tell us your adventures," she added, glad to change a
subject which was becoming too personal. "No story--no supper, you
know."

"We don't want supper--we want breakfast," interrupted Frank, with a
grin. "What have you been saying to her, Allen--to get her dates
mixed like that?"

"Allen Washburn, are you going to tell that story or are you not?"
queried Mollie, in a menacingly quiet tone of voice. "If you're not--"

"Yes, ma'am," said Allen meekly. "Where shall I begin, please?"

"At the beginning," said Grace sarcastically, and reached for her
candy box, grimacing to find it empty.

"Thank you," said Allen courteously. "Well, as you know, we four
husky braves meandered from the island one bright morning in the
early part of the week to seek our fortune, as it were, in the city
of promise."

"Yes, that's all it does do," Roy put in pessimistically. "Promise!"

"As I was saying," Allen continued, settling himself in a more
comfortable position on the steps, and ignoring the interruption. "We
sauntered off, and straightway looked up a recruiting station."

"Oh!" gasped Amy, hands clasped and eyes shining. "That must have
been exciting."

"Well, I don't know," said Allen, scratching his head reflectively,
"that that part was so exciting, but wait till you hear what happened
afterward. After we found where the recruiting office was, we went to
the hotel we were stopping at, and punished a mighty big breakfast.
You see, we figured out that we were going to put our necks into the
noose, as it were, and we wanted something good and big to stand up
on."

"Wouldn't your feet do?" asked Betty innocently.

"Heavens, no!" replied Allen, answering the query in solemn earnest,
while the girls giggled, and the boys grinned appreciatively. "We
were so nervous by that time we weren't sure we had any feet."

"All you had to do was to look," murmured Mollie maliciously. "You
couldn't miss 'em."

Allen looked hurt, got up and sat on his feet.

"If you don't see them, perhaps you'll forget about them," he offered
by way of explanation. "You don't know how sensitive I am on the
subject of feet."

"I couldn't blame you," Mollie was beginning, when Betty broke in
with a little despairing cry for help.

"If we don't stop them," she said, looking appealingly about her, "we
won't get any farther than breakfast. Allen, what did you do next?"

"Next?" queried Allen, stretching his long legs and squinting up at
the sun. "Let me see. Oh yes! Having put down a breakfast that must
have added four pounds to our weight, we sauntered forth once more to
meet our doom. By that time we were so nervous, we almost mistook a
café on the corner for the recruiting station--"

"Hey, speak for yourself, won't you?" queried Roy, adding, as he
turned to the girls with a grin, "We had to show Allen a performing
monkey on the street, and get his mind off, before we succeeded in
engineering him to the right place."

"Gee, some fellows have a gift," said Allen, regarding Roy
admiringly. "If I could tell 'em like that, old man, I'd be Supreme
Court Justice before the month was up.

"Well, as I was saying," he continued, "after much hesitation and
side-stepping, we at last succeeded in reaching our destination.
After that, it took ten minutes to get up nerve to go in.

"When we had at last tremblingly ascended the stairs, we found
ourselves in a large room, with all the windows open and half a dozen
wise-looking men, whom we took to be doctors, presiding. There were
three or four other fellows in the room, come like ourselves, to be
examined. Then we were shoved behind a huge screen with half a dozen
other huskies--they looked like prize fighters to me--and told to
take our clothes off. Then--we were examined."

"Well?" they queried, leaning forward eagerly.

"Well," said Allen, waving his hand in a deprecating gesture, "of
course, being the perfect specimens of manhood we are, the committee
jumped at us."

"If they'd jumped on you they'd have shown more taste," remarked
Mollie unflatteringly.

"But, Allen," put in Grace, who had listened to the recital, with a
troubled frown on her forehead, "was Will with you?"

Allen's glance fell and he shoved his hands deep into his pockets.

"No," he said.

NEWS FROM THE FRONT

There was another awkward pause, which nobody seemed able to break.

"But Will went to town with you," Amy remarked at last.

"Yes, he went with us," Allen agreed reluctantly. "But after we
reached the hotel, and were making our plans for enlisting, he
refused to go with us, saying he had business of his own to attend
to. What that business was none of us know, for we were getting ready
to catch the train for here when he rejoined us. However," he added
loyally, "I'd bet my bottom dollar that Will has good reasons for
everything he does, and when he gets ready he'll tell us about them.
In the meantime, how about some biscuits, Betty?"

"Yes, how about them?" added Roy, rousing to sudden life. "We've done
our duty--now we want the reward."

"Goodness, you haven't done anything," said Grace loftily, as the
Little Captain vanished within the house, followed by black-eyed
Mollie. "You just sit around and let all the others do the work and
then take the credit to yourself."

"That's all right if you can get away with it," grinned Allen.
"Besides," he added, with a humorous glance at Grace's languid
figure, "you don't look the soul of energy yourself this morning,
Miss Ford."

"Looks are often deceitful," retorted Grace, languidly turning the
heel of her sock. "If you had to knit all day long, every day in the
week, you'd find out what work is."

"Well, you don't _have_ to do it," returned Roy placidly.

"Yes," said gentle Amy, roused to sudden indignation. "That's all the
credit we get. Goodness knows, we're glad enough to do the work, but
we do like it to be appreciated."

Roy turned half way round, and regarded Amy's flying fingers and bent
head soberly for a moment.

"I'm sorry," he said then, so gravely that she looked up in surprise,
and even Grace stopped knitting. "I didn't mean that we fellows don't
appreciate what you girls are doing for us. We do--and there'll come
a time when we'll appreciate it still more. When we're in the
trenches up to our knees in mud and water, when the wind finds the
chinks in our clothing, and freezes us to the bone, when--"

"Oh, please don't!" cried Amy, clapping her hands to her ears. "I
can't even bear to think of those things."

"Yet those are some of the things we've got to think about," said
Roy, still with that unusual gravity. "It's because you girls have
thought of those things, that you're giving your time and energy to
preparing for them, and warding them off. Please don't ever again
think that we're ungrateful."

"We won't," said Amy softly, fighting back a sudden mistiness which
had come before her eyes. "We'll just go on knitting ten times harder
than before."

"I think we're missing something," came Betty's voice from the
doorway, where she stood with her arm intertwined in Mollie's. "The
biscuits are in the oven now, and we're going to talk to you while
they're baking."

"Will it take long?" asked Roy, sniffing hungrily.

"I like that," said Betty, with a little grimace, as she flung
herself upon the top step, pulling Mollie down beside her. "When Roy
has to choose between biscuits and us--"

"We're not in it," finished Mollie with a merry laugh.

Roy looked pained.

"I never said that, did I?" he inquired. "I haven't had the painful
necessity of making a choice yet."

"What were you talking about so earnestly when we came out?" queried
Betty. "Roy looked solemn, Grace looked surprised, Amy looked
exalted, and Allen was thoughtful, while Frank looked as though--well,
as though he were seeing visions."

"All I have to do is turn my head to see visions," Frank returned
gallantly, suiting the action to the word. "Gee, I never saw a crowd
of prettier girls."

"Hey, you're going to get an extra biscuit for that," put in Roy,
raising himself on his elbow and looking alarmed. "Just because
you're a better flatterer than I am--"

"Oh, hush, hush," protested Betty, showing all her dimples--Allen was
watching, so we have his authority for it. "You boys can never get to
the point, unless we happen to be talking of something to eat. Allen,
what were they talking about?"

Allen roused himself from the happy reverie into which Betty's
dimples had thrown him, and responded good-naturedly. Allen was
invariably good-natured.

"We were talking about some of the things we may be up against, when
we find ourselves in the trenches, face to face with the enemy," he
said. "Also we were saying that these sweaters, and mufflers and
socks you are knitting, will come in mighty handy over there."

A shadow crossed Betty's bright face, and she leaned forward to pick
up the discarded paper she had thrown upon the porch.

"'The enemy attacked in force our lines south of Cambrai,'" she read,
with puckered brow. "'The enemy succeeded in gaining a foothold in
our first line trenches, but were later driven back. The fighting on
both sides was sanguinary, and heavy losses were sustained!'"

She flung the paper from her, and regarded her friends with flaming
eyes, and both little fists clenched close at her sides.

"It doesn't seem as though it _could_ be real!" she cried. "Men
killing each other off by the hundreds and all for--what? Oh, it's
cruel, cruel!"

"Of course it's cruel," said Allen grimly. "But so were the Huns
cruel, centuries ago. The German people have simply never advanced
beyond that state. They're still in the first stages of
civilization."

"Yes, and the worst part of this kind of warfare," said Frank, his
eyes fixed thoughtfully upon the horizon, "is that each man in the
army is simply a unit in a great machine. In the old days, when they
had cavalry charges and hand-to-hand fighting there was some romance,
some adventure, some chance for personal bravery."

"Well, of course there is still some chance for daring," remarked
Allen, "especially in the aviation branch of the service."

"In the army too," added Roy. "Soldiers are being decorated every day
for some special act of bravery."

"I know all that," replied Frank. "But there's nothing particularly
spectacular about it."

"And yet," said Betty thoughtfully, "I should think that kind of
fighting would take more courage than the other. To stand day after
day in those horrible trenches waiting for orders. And then when they
do finally make a charge, nothing much seems to be gained by it."

"Yes, the waiting must be the hardest part," agreed Allen. "We met an
Englishman in town," he added, smiling at the recollection, "and he
was a mighty interesting chap."

"You said it," agreed Frank heartily. "He's been through some of the
heaviest fighting, and to hear him tell some of his experiences is
better than a dozen lectures. I wish we could have brought him along
so you girls could have heard him."

"I don't," Roy interjected. "He was too good-looking."

"All the more reason why you should have brought him," yawned Grace.
"It would be a treat to have around something good to look at."

"Whew," whistled Frank. "That was a bad one, Gracie. We know we're
not Adonises--"

"I'm glad you know something," Grace was beginning, when once more
Betty interrupted her.

"Oh dear!" she said, "if you don't hurry, the biscuits will be done,
and we won't have heard anything about the nice Englishman. And I'm
very much interested."

"Oh, you are, are you?" said Allen, sitting up. "I begin to think we
made a mistake in mentioning that Englishman. I think we must have
dreamed him, fellows."

"Oh, he was real enough," put in Frank. "But I shouldn't wonder if he
dreamt some of those adventures. They sounded too good to be true."

"Perhaps you've heard that old saying," Grace remarked, with her
usual languor, "that truth is stranger than fiction?"

"Oh, hurry," begged Betty. "The biscuits are almost done; I can smell
them."

"So can I," said Roy, with another longing sniff. "Don't let 'em
burn, will you, Betty?"

"I will, if somebody doesn't satisfy my curiosity, right away,"
threatened the Little Captain, her lips set threateningly. "Now, will
you be good?"

"Gee, Allen, did you hear that?" Roy's expression was pathetic.
"Hurry it up, will you?"

"Well," began Allen with aggravating deliberation, "he was a tall,
lean, rangy fellow with sandy hair and twinkling eyes. Seems he had
been wounded several times, and the last shot had cost him his right
arm."

"Oh," cried Mollie, her eyes like two saucers. "How did that happen?"

"Bomb exploding close to him shot it all to pieces," explained Allen
cryptically. "Of course it had to be amputated, permanently disabling
him. That's why he was sent across to America--to stimulate
recruiting."

"As if we needed any stimulating," said Mollie indignantly. "You
don't have to stand behind our boys with a gun to make them go."

"Of course not," agreed Allen. "Just the same, it's almost impossible
for us over here, with the broad Atlantic separating us from the
scene of conflict, actually to realize what we're up against. That's
why it's good to have a fellow like this Englishman, who has really
been right in the thick of it, relate his own experiences. While he
was talking you could almost hear the thunder of cannon and the
bursting of shells. I tell you, we fellows felt like shouldering our
guns, and marching over right away."

"Oh, it's wonderful to be a man these days," sighed Mollie. "You can
get right in the thick of it, while all we can do is stay home and
root for you."

"Well, that's a lot," said Frank soberly. "Just to feel that you
girls are backing us up, and that there's somebody who cares whether
we give a good account of ourselves or not, makes all the difference
in the world."

"But that's not all we can do," cried Betty, her eyes shining with
the light of resolution. "There's real work enough to keep us busy
all day long. Girls, I've got a plan!"

"What?" they cried, leaning forward eagerly.

"I'm going to join the Red Cross!"

CHAPTER IV

THE POWDER MILL

"Who's game for a paddle?"

"I am!"

"And I!"

"Oh, it's the most wonderful night in the world for canoeing!"

"And there's going to be a moon, too!"

"Nobody seems to be eager or anything like that," remarked Frank,
strolling out on the veranda, and regarding the enthusiastic group
with a smile on his lips. "Why didn't you suggest something they
might agree to, Allen?"

Allen, who had indeed made the suggestion, rose lazily to his feet,
and stretched out a hand to Betty.

"I never make any suggestions that aren't good," he replied. "Come
along, Betty. It's a crime to waste a minute of this wonderful
night."

"May we, Mrs. Irving?" queried Betty, smiling up at their chaperon,
who was the same who had shared their adventures, during that other
eventful summer on Pine Island. "You know you love canoeing as much
as the rest of us."

"Of course we'll all go," Mrs. Irving assented readily. "Only we've
had a long day, and mustn't stay out too late."

"I speak for Mrs. Irving in my canoe!" called out Betty.

"No, mine!" "Ours!" were other cries.

Merrily the girls ran into the house to pick up the wraps which were
always necessary on the water at night, and in another minute they
had rejoined the boys.

"Are you glad I enlisted, Betty?" queried Allen, laying a hand on
Betty's arm, and holding her back.

"Glad?" answered Betty, looking up at him with eyes that shone in the
starlight. "Yes, I'm glad that you knew the only right thing to do,
and I'm glad that you did it so promptly. But, Allen--"

"Yes?" he queried, finding her little hand and holding it tight.

"I--I'm like George Washington, I guess," she evaded, looking up at
him with a crooked little smile.

"I don't want you to tell a lie," he countered very softly. "I want
the truth, little Betty. What were you going to say?"

Betty's eyes drooped, and they walked along in silence for a minute.

"Well?" he queried at last, studying her averted profile. "You're not
afraid to tell me, Betty?"

"N-no," she answered, still with her head turned away. "I was only
going to say, that while I'm glad--oh, very glad in one way, I--I'm
not so very glad in another."

"What other?" he asked, leaning over her. "Betty, Betty, tell me,
dear."

Betty hesitated for another moment, then threw up her head defiantly.

"Well," she said, "if you must know--I don't want you to go. I--I'll
be--lonesome--"

"Betty," he cried imploringly, his heart beating like a trip-hammer,
"Betty--wait--"

But she had slipped from him, and had run ahead to join the others,
so that he had no other course but to follow her. His head was in the
clouds--his feet scarcely seemed to touch the ground.

"Well, it's about time you realized you were with us," Mollie
remarked as Betty, breathless with the run and the beating of her
heart, joined them. "We began to think you had eloped for fair this
time."

Betty laughed happily.

"I'm sure I don't know where we'd elope to," she remarked, stepping
one dainty foot exactly in the center of the unstable craft. "We'd
either have to swim or wait for the ferry, and I don't exactly know
which would be the more uncomfortable."

"I'd prefer the swim," said Roy, arranging the pillows carefully
behind Mollie's straight little back. To quote the latter: She would
much rather do things for herself--boys were so clumsy--but they
always looked so funny and downhearted when she told them about it,
that, just in the interest of ordinary kindness, she had to humor
them!

"Well," said Allen, as he dipped his paddle into the still water,
guiding the light craft from the shore, "where shall we go?"

"'Where do we go from here, boys, where do we go from here?'" sang
Roy.

"'Anywhere from Harlem to a Jersey City pier,'" finished Frank,
wickedly splashing some drops of water on Grace's immaculate white
dress.

"That's sensible, isn't it?" retorted the latter, favoring the
offender with a look of cold disdain. "Since we don't happen to be
any more than sixty miles from Harlem or Jersey City, I'm sure Allen
appreciated your suggestion."

"Oof!" said Frank. "I can't open my mouth without putting my foot in
it."

"That's no compliment to your mouth," returned Grace. "Frank, if you
don't stop splashing me with that horrid water, I'm going to get out
and walk."

"That would be jumping from the frying pan into the fire," returned
Frank with a grin, while Mollie, who was in the next canoe, chuckled
audibly.

"Goodness," said Betty, as Allen shortened his stroke to bring the
canoes abreast. "It's almost impossible to think of there being a war
on a night like this. Everything is so calm and peaceful."

"Yes, we haven't even been touched by it yet," said Allen, his mood
sobering. "The Englishman to-day was telling us that nobody in
England began to realize they were at war, until the boys began to
come back wounded and disabled."

"Oh, I can't bear to think of it," cried Amy, who, in the canoe with
Will, still silent and aloof, had scarcely spoken a word till now.
"It seems as if there ought to be some other way of settling disputes
these days."

"That's what every nation thinks, except Germany and her allies,"
returned Frank. "As it is, we've got to fight her as we'd fight a mad
dog--wipe the whole German nation off the map, or at least, bring it
to its knees."

"That reminds me of something one of the recruiting officers told me
the other day," put in Allen, with a whimsical smile. "He said he had
talked to hundreds of American enlisted men, and the great majority
of them were eager to learn German."

"I don't admire their taste," put in Mollie, with spirit. "I hate the
very sound of it."

"Well, the soldier's idea is," explained Allen, "that if he learns
the language he'll be able to flirt with the _frauleins_ when he gets
to Berlin."

"Again I don't admire their taste," remarked Mollie spitefully.
"Almost all the German girls I've ever seen are too stout to suit
me."

"Goodness, I had a German ancestor away back somewhere," remarked Amy
anxiously. "Maybe that's why I'm beginning to gain flesh so fast.
You've got me worried."

The boys laughed, but the girls answered reassuringly.

"It isn't your remote German ancestor that's giving you flesh, Amy,"
said Grace condescendingly. "It's eating three hearty meals a day,
and the sitting still knitting from morning to night. We girls are
used to being on the go all the time."

"What's that you said?" asked Frank, bringing his eyes down from the
stars to the lazy figure in the white dress. "I've never seen you
when you weren't taking life easy."

"What!" said Grace, sitting up straight, the picture of indignation.
"How about our walking tour--didn't I walk just as far, and as much
as the other girls then? And how about swimming?"

"Take it back! take it back!" cried Frank. "If going down on my knees
will help any--"

"Don't be a goose," responded Grace shortly, settling herself once
more in a comfortable position. "Just a little bit of going down on
your knees, and we'll be in the water. Have a chocolate?"

"No, thanks," said Frank absently. His eye had caught a sudden flare
of light, that had flickered for a moment and then disappeared.

"Hey, Allen," he yelled. "Did you see that light--over there, to the
right?"

"Yes," said Allen, looking puzzled. "And I don't remember ever seeing
signs of life over in that direction."

"Isn't that about where the old powder mill stands?" asked Betty, and
Allen turned to her quickly.

"Betty," he said, his eyes shining, "you've got it. The government
has bought that property, and started the old mill to working. By
George, this promises to be interesting."

"There it is again!" cried Frank, while Grace strained her eyes
eagerly toward the point. "What do you say to paddling over there and
having a look?"

"It's up to the girls," replied Allen, watching Betty's face eagerly.
"What they say goes."

"And they say 'go,'" smiled Betty whimsically. "Do you suppose we'd
go back without solving the mystery? Lead on, Macduff--we follow."

So Allen and Frank paddled hard toward the bend in the lake, the
other two canoes, which had fallen somewhat behind, quickening the
stroke to catch up with them, sensing that something unusual was
afoot.

As the canoes in the lead rounded the bend, those in them saw that
indeed the old mill had been renovated, but that the flame they had
seen had come, not from the old mill, but from a small bonfire
started farther in the woods.

And that was not all. What made them catch their breath and signal
for silence, was the figure of a man bent close to the flickering
fire, intent upon deciphering the writing on a long piece of paper,
that looked suspiciously like an official document.

So silent had been their approach that the man had not even changed
his position. Luckily the canoes were screened by heavy, overhanging
branches of trees, so that the occupants could observe without being
observed.

Silently the other two canoes joined them, and noiselessly, scarcely
daring to breathe, the young folks watched.

CHAPTER V

A SHOT IN THE DARK

In the minds of each of the young people in the canoes, one word kept
repeating itself over and over again: "Spy, spy, spy!"

Since the war had begun, the country had been overrun with them, that
they knew; but out here on this remote island... Yet there was
something about the very posture of the man, his hunched-up figure,
the nervous twitching of the fingers that held the document, that
branded him.

As they watched, he started to fold up the paper, glancing stealthily
about meanwhile; then, as though satisfied that no one was watching,
he picked up the heavy bag that lay beside him, evidently preparing
for flight.

Betty, a little tense figure in the bottom of the boat, uttered a
gasp of dismay, as Allen began carefully to lower himself into the
shallow water.

The man on shore heard the slight sound and turned swiftly, staring
suspiciously into the thick shadows of the foliage. Then did the boys
and girls literally hold their breath.

After a few seconds, which seemed an eternity to the taut nerves of
the watchers, the man turned with a guttural growl, and started
cautiously to make off into the denser woodland beyond.

In a second, Allen was out of the boat, and lending a hand to the
gallant Little Captain, who would not be outdone in any adventure, no
matter how perilous.

The other boys and girls followed, silent as ghosts, their training
in woodcraft standing them in good stead. For an instant, they stood
in a tense, excited group on shore, Mrs. Irving in their midst.

"I'll tell you what we'll do," Allen was saying, and they had to lean
close to catch the words, which were barely above a whisper. "There
must be a guard around this mill somewhere. We'll get him, and head
that fellow off."

"I'll take you to a guard," said Will suddenly. "We'll find him at
the other end of the mill."

Without another word, he turned and led the way, careful of the
betraying snap of twigs, along the shore, toward the mill. Even in
that moment of tense excitement, the girls and boys looked at his
suddenly stiffened back in surprise. It was the first time since he
had come ashore that morning, that his comrades had been able to
discover anything of the old Will.

However, they had little time for the solving of riddles. There was
work to be done, work, which in these stirring times, might perhaps
help to make history.

As they neared the mill, Will motioned to them to stay where they
were, and ran ahead to intercept a guard. A moment later he returned
with the latter, and the whole party made its way hurriedly and
stealthily in a roundabout direction, which would almost certainly
intercept the spy--if spy he were.

"Oh, Betty," whispered Grace, close to the Little Captain's ear.
"I've always been horribly afraid of spies. Do you suppose he's got a
gun?"

"I never heard of a spy that didn't," returned Betty grimly. "But
don't worry--we have one, too."

"Better not talk," warned Roy, close at their side. "A whisper may
mean a bullet."

Grace almost screamed, but Betty's firm little hand across her mouth
smothered it into something between a sob and a squeak.

"Hush," whispered Betty fiercely. "You'll spoil everything."

At that moment, the sharp crack of a twig somewhere to the left of
them in the woods, made them stop suddenly and stand motionless,
listening.

Then with a shout, Will rushed forward, followed by the other boys
and the home guard man.

"Hands up!" shouted the latter, leveling his pistol at something that
moved among the bushes. "Stand where you are."

Like a flash of lightning the man wriggled out from his cover, and
made a dash for liberty. With a yell, the guard ran forward, firing
as he went, with the boys close at his heels.

"Oh, oh, they'll get shot!" wailed Amy, her hands before her face. "I
don't see why we couldn't have left the old thing alone, anyway."

"That's a nice thing to say!" cried Mollie, trembling with
excitement. "Is that your idea of patriotism, to let a spy get away
right under our very noses?"

"It's a good deal better than having the boys shot right under our
very noses," retorted Amy with spirit.

"We'll be lucky if we don't get shot ourselves," said Grace, almost
in hysterics. "Oh, there goes another one. I wonder who got shot that
time."

"Let's go and see," said Betty, pale, but determined, "It isn't like
us to stand in the background, when there may be something to do."

"But, Betty," wailed Amy, "we may get shot."

"Well, then, we shall," cried Betty, turning upon her fiercely. "That
may have been the spy that was shot, or it may be one of our boys.
Are we going to stay here, or are we going to find out?"

"I--I'm sorry, Betty," quavered poor Amy. "Of course, we'll go."

Without another word the Little Captain turned and, with Mollie at
her side, made off in the direction the boys had taken. Amy and
Grace, arms entwined about each other, followed a little lingeringly
in the rear of their bolder companions.

They had not gone far, when they heard the welcome sound of masculine
voices in excited altercation, and the heavy tramp of feet coming
toward them.

"Oh," sighed Betty, her lip quivering, now that the need of courage
had passed, "they never sounded so good to me before."

"Thank heaven you're safe," cried Allen, while relief banished the
fear in his eyes. "I don't know what we could have been thinking of,
to leave you all alone--"

"But did you get him?" cried Mollie impatiently.

"No, worse luck," responded Will disgustedly, while the guard mopped
his perspiring forehead. "That spy was a slippery customer. We did
get something out of it, though."

"What?" they cried eagerly.

"This," said Will, holding up something that gleamed white in the
moonlight. "It's a letter, and it ought to tell us a number of things
we want to know about Mr. Adolph Hensler."

"Oh, is that his name?" cried Betty eagerly. "That tells us a good
deal without even opening the letter."

"It's German enough," agreed Will. "But, gee! I'm sorry we didn't
catch the fellow. The government needs him."

"But we're so glad you didn't get shot," Amy ventured mildly. "We
heard that last one back there in the woods, and we thought--"

"We'd gotten ours?" grinned Roy. "Well, we hadn't--not yet."

"It was too near for comfort, just the same," Frank added. "I could
almost hear the wind from it as it whizzed past me."

Here Betty, who had been watching Allen closely, uttered a sharp
exclamation, and all turned to her.

"Allen," she cried, for he had swayed a little and rested his hand
against a tree as though to steady himself, "why didn't you tell us?
Oh, Allen! It's blood!"

"Nothing at all," said Allen, laughing a little unsteadily, as Mrs.
Irving and the girls and boys gathered about him anxiously. "A little
thing will bleed like a shambles sometimes. It's nothing--Betty--"

But Betty, with a little catch in her breath, was tearing aside the
soft shirt, which was clotted with blood at the shoulder.

"Oh, Allen, Allen!" she was murmuring over and over in a way that
sent the blood pounding madly to Allen Washburn's head, and made the
wound a blessing. "Why didn't you tell me? Oh, your poor shoulder!
Some one get some water, quick," she ordered imperiously, turning to
the anxious group. "I don't think it's serious, but we must stop this
bleeding. Please hurry."

And hurry they did, bringing water from a near-by spring in cups they
expertly improvised from leaves as they had done so many times just
for the fun of it.

Then the boys produced some spotless white handkerchiefs, which
served as a makeshift bandage, till they could reach the cottage. The
bullet, as Betty had said, had not much more than grazed the
shoulder, yet the wound had bled profusely, and Allen was beginning
to feel a little sick and dizzy, from the loss of blood.

When at last all had been done, that it was possible to do, Allen was
helped down to the canoe, and they paddled home, a very much sobered
group of young people.

"Never mind," said Allen, in an attempt to lift the general
depression, as they neared the cottage. "We found the letter anyway,
which may be of considerable help to the government. And what's one
shoulder more or less in the cause?"

CHAPTER VI

MOONLIGHT AND MYSTERY

The moon made a rippling path of silver upon the water, a soft wind
whispered drowsily through the trees, and far off in the depths of
the woodland, an owl hooted plaintively. Ordinarily, the romantic
paddle back to the island would have been filled with delight for the
Outdoor Girls and their four boy friends, but tonight the profuse
beauty all about them passed unnoticed.

Betty, sitting beside Allen in the bottom of the canoe, while Frank
and Grace paddled, was very pale and silent. However, the others
talked enough to make up for her silence.

"What do you suppose is in the letter?" said Mollie, for perhaps the
hundredth time.

"How do you suppose we know?" responded Will, exasperated. "We can't
very well read it until we get home; and then perhaps there won't be
anything important in it. Gee, if we'd only gotten that fellow!"

"Well, it's of no use to cry over spilled milk," said Frank
philosophically. "We were mighty lucky to get the letter. Allen's the
only one that ought to kick--he got the rough end of the deal."

"Yes," said Betty fiercely; "and we ought to get that man for
shooting him. The coward!"

Allen laughed softly, and put a hand over Betty's little clenched
one.

"I don't suppose he meant to shoot me, especially," he said. "It was
my fault for getting in the way of the bullet."

"Yes, that's a mighty bad habit to get into," remarked Roy dryly,
"especially in these times, when we're more than likely to get a
chance to exercise it."

"Ooh!" squealed Amy, giving a sudden splash with her paddle, that
sent a geyser of spray all about her, causing several loud protests.
"I wish you'd stop talking about such things. I'd like to stop
shivering for about five minutes."

The girls giggled hysterically and felt more natural.

"Goodness," sighed Grace, after five minutes of silence, during which
each had been busy with his or her own thoughts. "This paddle never
seemed so long to me before."

"Thanks," said Frank. "May I ask whether you are referring to the
company?"

"I wasn't even thinking of the company," retorted Grace ungraciously.

"Gee, we must be impressive," murmured Roy. "She doesn't even know
we're around."

"Stop paddling, Frank," suggested Mollie maliciously, "and see how
soon she'd know you weren't around."

Obediently Frank drew his paddle from the water, and Grace, who had
only been making a pretense of doing her share, looked around
indignantly.

"Well, you can't expect me to do it all," she said, and with a sigh
of utter resignation, Frank resumed his work.

"Say, fellows," he said, "isn't that just like a girl?"

"What's that?" cried Amy suddenly, making them jump nervously.

"What?" queried Grace in a voice scarcely above a whisper, while the
rest looked for an explanation from Amy to the shadowy woodland and
back again.

"It--it was a noise," explained Amy, incoherently, "like a man
moving, and I was sure--I--saw a--couple of eyes watching us--"

"For heaven's sake!" cried Allen, raising himself suddenly in the
canoe, "put on more steam, you fellows! We've got to get the girls
out of this. What do you say, Mrs. Irving?" turning to their
chaperon, who had been a silent spectator until the moment.

"By all means," she said decisively. "We can face these mysteries
better by daylight, and we've had enough excitement for one night."

So they all paddled hard while the girls' eyes remained fixed in
half-fearful, half-hopeful expectation upon the shadowy shore. For
these girls were outdoor girls, and adventure was the breath of life
to them.

However, nothing else happened to disturb the calm of a perfect
summer night, and a few minutes later they landed at the pier, and
hastily fastened the canoes.

"Now for a light and the contents of that letter," cried Will, his
eyes gleaming with anticipation. "We'll soon find out whether Mr.
Adolph Hensler was a regular, honest-to-goodness spy, or just an
impostor. How about it, Allen?" he went on, as the latter stumbled
over a stone, and Will hooked an arm through his. "Feeling pretty
much all in, are you?"

"A little unsteady on my pins, as our friend Captain Kidd would say,"
Allen replied, though his lips were set with the effort to walk
steadily. "It's funny what a little scratch will do to a fellow."

"It wasn't such a little scratch, old man," said Will soberly. "If it
had hit you more directly, you'd have been in for a pretty long
siege. As it is, I'm afraid you'll have to lie low for a week or so.
Here we are. Now, just a couple of steps, old fellow--"

Allen was, in truth, weaker than he thought, for each step seemed
mountains high, and Frank had to grasp his other arm, before they
finally made the floor of the porch, and succeeded in getting him
across the threshold.

"Never mind," whispered Mollie, slipping a comforting arm about
Betty's shoulders as they followed slowly. "He isn't hurt seriously,
dear, and by to-morrow he'll be feeling all right again."

"I know," said Betty, a little catch in her breath. "It isn't so bad
now, but I was just thinking what it would be like, if he were
wounded on the battlefield, with no one to look after him--and--and--"

"Oh, Betty, we just mustn't think of things like that!" said Mollie,
her voice quivering. "No matter how we feel, we've just got to keep
on smiling for the boys' sake."

"I know," said Betty, straightening up with a pathetic little attempt
at a smile. "We'll all have to say like the little boy that fell down
and hurt himself, 'I'm not cryin'; I'm laughin'.' Yes, we're coming."
This last was interpolated by way of encouragement to Frank, who had
been sent back to look for them.

They found Allen propped up in a huge armchair before a fire, which
had been hastily laid in the grate, looking rather pale and wan, but
tremendously interested in the proceedings, nevertheless.

"Betty," he said pleadingly, stretching out a hand to her.

Without a word she went over to him, taking it in both her own.

"I don't want you to go out of my sight," he whispered, while the
others thoughtfully looked the other way. "My shoulder doesn't ache
when you're around," he added whimsically, knowing how clearly Betty
saw through him; "but when you go away, the ache in it is--fiendish!"

"I won't go away," Betty promised, touching the bandaged shoulder
gently.

"Never?" he queried eagerly, twisting around so he could see her
face. "Is that a promise, Betty?"

"While your shoulder hurts," she added quickly, while the color,
which did not come from the fire, flooded her face. "I--I hate to be
cross with you when you're not feeling well," she added, trying to be
severe, "but if you don't stop--looking at me--Allen... See,
they're waiting to read the letter!"

[Illustration: WILL LEANED FORWARD, REGARDING THE PAPER CLOSELY.]

"Does that mean I have to stop looking at you?" queried Allen, with a
smile. "Oh, well, I'll not complain, if you'll only keep on holding
my hand, Betty. I'd have a chronic bullet wound all the rest of my
life--"

"Well, when the invalid and hero of the occasion is ready," Will
broke in, his patience at an end, "we should be pleased to read a
document, which probably will seem dull and uninteresting to him
beside what he has to say--"

"Oh, Will, please don't talk so much," cried Grace. "If you don't
hurry I'll be so sleepy it wouldn't bother me if Adolph Hensler
turned out to be the Kaiser himself."

"Yes, speed up, old man," Roy added. "Expectation may be better than
realization, but I don't believe it."

"Well," said Will, opening the letter which had not been sealed, with
exasperating deliberation, "we shall see--what we shall see."

He leaned forward, regarding the paper closely in the yellow
lamplight, while the others crowded eagerly about him.

"Well--what-do-you-know-about-that!" he said slowly, pushing the
paper from him disgustedly. "All in code--and a code that will need
an expert to figure it out. Gee, that's a mean trick, that is!"

Frank picked up the paper and pored over it for a moment, while the
rest watched him anxiously.

"Yes, that's a stiff one," he said at last. "I guess there's no use
in our wasting time over it."

"It proves one thing anyway," put in Allen, from his corner. "The
paper is important, and our friend to-night is undoubtedly what we
thought he was."

"Much good that does us," said Will, morosely folding the paper and
stuffing it carefully into his pocket. "Of course, it's better than
nothing, and we'll get it into official hands just as soon as we can;
but we certainly ought to have caught that rascal."

"Say!" exclaimed Roy suddenly, his eyes gleaming with the light of
adventure, "maybe it isn't too late yet. Unless Adolph, the spy, had
a boat or swam to the nearest island, which is more than a mile away,
he's still on this island somewhere. We've got our good old trusties
over in the big tent, and there's a bare chance we might be able to
round him up."

"No, you don't!" said Grace decidedly, while all the girls looked
startled. "You're going to use your guns to keep that man away from
here. Do you suppose we're going to lie awake all night listening for
shots?"

"Oh, all right," said Roy, "I'm properly squelched."

"Let's go to bed," yawned Grace, "I'm dying by inches. And, oh,
Mollie, dear, don't forget to bring the candy box!"

Half an hour later the lights in the little cottage were out and the
boys, all except Allen, who had been made as comfortable as possible
in the house, were taking turns at standing guard outside.

Despite the quiet beauty and peace of the night, the girls found it
almost impossible to sleep. They tossed and dozed, and waked and
dozed again until, toward daylight, they fell into a restless, uneasy
sleep.

CHAPTER VII

ROBBED

Crack! Crack!

The girls started to a sitting posture and regarded each other
fearfully.

"What is it?" cried Mollie, her eyes big and round in the semi-dark.
"Betty, what are you doing?"

"That was a shot," responded Betty, her voice quivering with
excitement. "I've been listening for it all night. Who's coming--"

"Oh, dear!" wailed Amy. "I knew some one would get killed! It's worse
than some awful nightmare."

But Betty was already running from the room, with Mollie close at her
heels. Reluctantly, Grace and Amy slipped on their robes and slippers
and followed.

Betty almost ran into Mrs. Irving on the landing, and gasped an
apology.

"Oh, dear, what do you suppose it is?" she panted, as they went on
down the stairs together. "If another of the boys is hurt--"

But at that moment the boys themselves came bursting in upon them,
rumpled, sheepish and out of temper, to confront the excited girls in
the lower hall.

"What do you know about that?" cried Roy disgustedly. "If I'm not the
biggest fool that ever lived, I'll eat my hat."

"Far be it from me to stop you," growled Will. "He must have passed
near enough to touch you, and you let him get away."

"Well, you needn't rub it in," retorted Roy, turning upon him
savagely, while the girls looked from one to the other
uncomprehendingly. "You ought to know I'm sore enough without having
you find fault."

"Cut it out, fellows," Frank put in peaceably. "It wasn't anybody's
fault; just hard luck, that's all."

"But what?" Mollie interrupted impatiently. "What happened?"

"Well, you see it was like this," began Will, still in a bad temper.
"We fellows decided that our friend, Adolph Hensler, might have some
mistaken longings for the code letter he dropped, and might follow us
and try to steal it back. So we thought we'd set a trap for him by
keeping watch, turn and turn about, in such a position that he
couldn't possibly see us."

"Yes, and that's about all," Roy, speaking bitterly, took the story
away from Will, "except that it was yours truly's turn at sentry
duty, and he went to sleep, leaving Adolph a clear field."

"And did he really come back?" asked Betty, glancing apprehensively
over her shoulder as though she was afraid the rascal might be close
at hand.

"Yes, he really did," said Roy, still bitterly. "And if I hadn't
happened to see him coming out of the window--"

"Out of the window!" echoed Grace, who, with Amy, had decided that
the lower hall with company was more to be desired than a room
upstairs alone. "Oh, Roy, from this house?"

"Since this is the only one for three miles around, I suppose it
was," said Roy, with biting sarcasm.

"But he may have been in our room," cried Amy, beginning to shiver
again.

"Very likely," said Will grimly, while Mrs. Irving looked decidedly
worried. "The one good thing about the whole affair is, that he
didn't get the letter."

"Oh, bother the letter," cried Mollie, cross because she could not
stop trembling. "I--I wish it were daylight. I never wanted to see
the sun so much."

"Well, it is, almost," said Frank, waving his hand toward the east
where a dim grey veil was replacing the blackness of night. "Adolph
must have been hanging around for some time, before he got the chance
he wanted."

"Before I went to sleep," put in Roy moodily.

"But didn't you follow him?" queried Betty, eagerly.

"Of course," said Will, "until he disappeared in the woods; and you
might just as well hunt for a needle in a haystack, as look for him
there. Besides, we wanted to see if you girls were all right."

"Well, we're not," said Grace dispiritedly. "We didn't have half
enough sleep, and now we've been scared to death for the second time
in one night."

"Well," said Mrs. Irving, coming out of a brown study, and speaking
decidedly. "There's nothing to be gained by standing here. Probably
none of us will be able to sleep any more to-night, but we can at
least get dressed. Come, girls, we don't want to add sickness to our
problems."

"This time we're all going to watch," Will called after them, as they
started up the stairs. "If Adolph comes back again, he won't get away
so easily."

Slowly the girls reentered their room, and were relieved to find that
the long night with all its weird suggestions and imaginings, was
really over. Beds and dressers were distinctly visible in the faint
grey light that filtered into the room. Soon the sun would be up.

"Oh, I'm so tired," sighed Mollie, sinking down on the edge of her
bed and gazing about her disconsolately. "I feel as if I ought to be
tremendously excited, but I'm too sleepy to care much about
anything."

"Wait till the sun comes up," said Betty, recovering a little of her
old cheeriness. "That makes everything look different. I wonder," she
added, as if the thought had not been in her mind all the time, "how
Allen is. The noise didn't even seem to disturb him. I think I'll ask
Mrs. Irving if I can go--and--see----"

"Why, of course you can," said Mrs. Irving, who happened to be
passing the door at that particular minute, and looking in at her
smilingly. "I was just going to visit the patient myself; so if you
hurry and get dressed, we can go together."

It is safe to say that Betty was fully dressed, to the last little
pattings and fluffings of her blue morning dress, before ten minutes
was up, and, with Mrs. Irving, was walking with rapidly beating heart
down the hall toward Allen's room.

The door had been left open in case he needed anything during the
night, and now his voice greeted them before they reached it.

"Hello," it called imperatively. "I want to know something."

"All right," said Mrs. Irving sunnily, pushing the door open and
advancing toward the patient, while Betty lingered a little in the
background. "You're not the only one. How are you feeling this
morning?"

"All right--fine," he amended, as his eager eye caught sight of
Betty. "Never was feeling better in my life. Decidedly grateful for
being allowed to live at all--when there are so many beautiful things
to look at," this with so direct and ardent a gaze upon Betty, that
she turned and looked out of the window, unwilling to let him see
what her face must reveal.

Mrs. Irving laughed a little and began to adjust his pillows
carefully.

"We are going to have a doctor for you today," she announced, and
Allen sat up in bed with a jerk.

"What for?" he demanded. "I don't need any doctor. I'm feeling all
right now, and ten to one, he'd make me sick. They always do. Please
don't bring one of them in here."

"Don't make a fuss and get excited, please," Mrs. Irving cautioned
him gently, while her eyes dwelt with humorous sympathy upon Betty's
back. "I'm going down to prepare some breakfast, and perhaps Betty
can persuade you about the doctor."

Before either of them realized it, she was gone, leaving them alone.
Still Betty forgot to turn round.

For several minutes, Allen lay and regarded her contentedly. Then he
gave a mountainous sigh, and finally:

"What have I done?" he queried pathetically. "It's one of the
prettiest backs I ever saw, but that's no reason why I should have to
look at it all the time. Besides, you seem to forget that I have a
sore shoulder."

Betty turned to him swiftly, half laughing and half grave.

"I never know when to believe you," she said, coming toward him
slowly and moving a chair up to the edge of the bed. "You see, that's
the worst of having a bad reputation."

"I haven't," he denied stoutly, feeling for her hand, which, however,
persisted in evading his. "I've never said anything to you, Betty
Nelson, that wasn't true. If you'll give me your hand, my shoulder
will stop aching."

Betty laughed whimsically.

"And you said you never had told me anything that wasn't true," she
reminded him.

"I repeat it," he answered doggedly, succeeding at last in finding
her hand, and holding it tight. "Just being near you makes me so
happy, I haven't time to think of pain."

"D--did you hear all the noise just a little while ago?" stammered
Betty hastily. "You must have wondered what it was all about."

"I did," he replied, still with his eyes on her face. "I started to
get out of bed and see for myself, only I found I was kind of wabbly,
and thought better of it. What--"

"Oh, Betty!" Mollie flung wide the door and burst in upon them.
"Excuse me, but I had to tell you. What do you suppose has happened
now?"

She sank down on the edge of the bed, and looked at them
despairingly.

"Well, what?" asked Betty impatiently. "Has anybody else been shot
or--"

"Goodness, it's worse than that!" cried Mollie hysterically. "You
know, we've never bothered to lock up our good things, because there
never seemed any danger at all of robbery on Pine Island--"

"Yes, yes," cried Betty, fairly wild with impatience. "I know all
that. Tell me, what happened?"

"Well," said Mollie, refusing to be hurried, "we thought of our
jewelry, looked for it--and it was----"

"Gone!" cried Betty, reading the answer in Mollie's face. "Oh,
Mollie, my pin and my bracelet----"

"Yes, and my gold watch, and Grace's pearl lavallière, and goodness
knows how many other things," Mollie finished, in the calmness of
despair.

"And of course, it was that spy that did it!" cried Betty. "Now,
we've got to catch him!"

CHAPTER VIII

THE BIG GAME

Betty opened her eyes slowly, and blinked at the sunlight that
flooded the room. She had a vague sort of idea that something unusual
was going to happen, but was too lazy and comfortable to realize just
what that something was.

Then suddenly it came to her, and she sat up in bed with a start.
They were going home! That was the big event; and somehow, she did
not feel as sorry as she usually did at the end of a vacation. In
fact, she was almost eager to leave this island, with its powder
mills and spies that shot boys you liked, and robbed you in the
bargain--quite eager to drop play, and do her bit for the country she
loved.

"Betty, what are you doing awake so early?" queried Grace petulantly.
"If you can't sleep you might lie still, and let me."

"Have some candy, Gracie," Betty invited, pulling the empty candy box
from the table beside the bed, and handing it to her friend. "It may
help your disposition."

"Goodness, what it is to have a reputation!" said Grace plaintively.
"People think they can insult and slight me, and then make it all up
by handing me a bon-bon!"

"Not guilty," laughed Betty merrily. "If you'll look a little closer,
you'll see there is not a bit of candy in that box! No, don't glare
at me like that, Gracie, dear. The only way you could frighten me,
would be by getting up early. Then I'd know there was something
wrong."

"So would I," said Grace, stifling a yawn. "I'm altogether too
good-natured to frighten anybody--even myself."

"Well, you can stay there all day if you want to," said Betty,
inserting two determined little feet into two pretty bedroom
slippers, and running across to the open window, "but I wouldn't if I
were you. It's too wonderful a day in the first place, and in the
second, I can imagine pleasanter things than staying alone on this
island over night."

"Oh, that's so!" cried Grace, sitting up and staring at Betty. "I
forgot we were going home to-day. Oh, dear, now I will have to get
up."

"How awful," mocked Mollie, who had been watching them for some time
from the bed in the alcove. "It's an outrage, having to get up in the
morning. I think we should have been made so we could sleep all the
time."

"Just my idea," Grace was beginning, unmoved, when Mrs. Irving's
voice sounded at the door.

"Seven o'clock," she announced cheerily. "And you know we decided to
get an early start."

For the next hour all was hurry and excitement while four girlish
tongues clattered unceasingly.

"Have you fully decided to join the Red Cross, Betty?" queried Amy.

"Why, of course. Haven't you?" asked the Little Captain, slipping on
the skirt to her pretty traveling suit and fastening it deftly. "I'm
going to make dozens and dozens of scarfs, sweaters and socks. The
boys are giving up everything for us, and I'm sure the least we can
do is, keep them warm."

"Oh, I can't wait to begin," cried Mollie. "I'm so excited all the
time about the war and everything, I can't sit still--"

"You've got to, if you're going to knit," grumbled Grace. "And you
can't eat candy, either, Mollie Billette."

"Oh, look who's talking," crowed Mollie. "If that's true, and the
poor soldiers had to depend upon you to keep them warm, I'd feel
sorry for them, that's all."

"Oh, I don't know," defended Betty, putting an arm about Grace, and
starting for the door. "Grace believes in quality more than quantity.
She may not knit as much as the rest of us, but she does it twice as
well."

Grace laughed and hugged her friend as they ran down the stairs
together.

"That's worth my lavallière, Betty," she said. "If Adolph Hensler
hadn't gotten it first, I'd will it to you!"

They flew around to prepare breakfast, and the smell of sizzling
bacon and baking biscuits sent their spirits soaring to the skies.
The boys, who had finished their own breakfast, and scoured up the
pans, heard the sounds of merriment, and came to inquire the cause.

Betty saw them first and laughingly bade them enter.

"We'd ask you to breakfast," she said, "only this is the last
biscuit, and I wouldn't give it up to my best friend. Why don't you
come in?" she continued, as they lingered on the threshold. "I never
knew you to be bashful before."

"We're not bashful," denied Allen, as they distributed themselves
about the room in various and characteristic attitudes, grinning
happily at the girls. "We were so hypnotized by the charming picture
you made for us we couldn't move, that's all."

"I told you there weren't any more biscuits," said Betty decidedly.

"Goodness, I'm glad somebody else has a bad reputation besides me,"
said Grace languidly. "At least you don't have anything to live up
to."

"How is the shoulder this morning?" Mrs. Irving inquired of Allen.
"You haven't taken the bandage off, have you?"

"Not yet," replied Allen, who, although it was scarcely a week since
the accident, had almost completely recovered from his wound. "The
doctor said he'd be around early this morning, and if it looked all
right, would take it off."

"Gee, but I feel funny this morning," announced Roy, apropos of
nothing in particular.

"You look it," murmured Mollie, pouring herself another cup of
coffee.

"What do you mean--funny?" queried Frank with interest, while Roy
favored Mollie with a hurt look.

"Oh, I don't know how to explain it," said Roy, blushing, as all eyes
were turned upon him. "Just sort of excited and--er--queer."

"Yes, we heard you the first time," said Mollie patiently, while Roy
looked about for help.

"I know what you mean," said Allen, coming to his rescue. "You're
thinking that we're likely to be called almost any time now, and it
gives you stage fright to think about it. It's a great big task we've
taken hold of, and we can't quite grasp it yet, that's all."

"Th-that's the way I feel," said Betty, her eyes shining and her
cheeks flushed, stammering in her eagerness. "I feel somehow as if we
were acting in a great big play, where there are all actors and no
audience, and everybody's sort of flustered and excited and not sure
just where they belong but terribly anxious to get into it
somewhere."

"Well, we're all in it," cried Frank, his eyes fired with enthusiasm.
"Thank heaven, there's not one among us we can call a slacker. We've
all enlisted without waiting to be hauled into it by the scruff of
the neck--we--we----," his eyes happened to fall upon Will as he sat
regarding him steadily from a chair near the window, and as though at
a signal, his enthusiasm died and he stammered incoherently.

"Well, we know what _we're_ going to do," said Betty, hurriedly
changing the subject. "As soon as we reach town we're going to hunt
up the nearest Red Cross headquarters and join."

"Bully!" cried Roy admiringly. "I heard a fellow saying the other day
that it was wonderful the way the American women have come up to the
scratch--pardon the slang, ladies, but that's what he said. He said
the Red Cross was turning out bushels of woolen wear, and that at
this rate there wouldn't be a man in the United States army or navy,
that wouldn't be kept warm and comfortable during the big fight. I
tell you it makes you feel good, to think that mothers and sisters
and sweet girl friends are backing you up like that. It takes away
old Fritz's last shadow of a chance."

"Oh, it's wonderful to hear you talk like that," said Mollie, eyes
bright and cheeks glowing. "Ever since war was declared I've been
dying to put on a uniform and get into the thick of it myself. But if
we can't, it's the next best thing to be able to encourage our boys,
and make them as comfortable and happy as we can. Oh, I think they're
wonderful--and I love them all, every one of them!"

"Hold on, hold on!" cried Roy, while the other boys looked delighted.
"It's all right for you to love me, but why take the whole army into
it? It would be much more exclusive the other way."

"I love them all," said Mollie stubbornly. "And I'll keep on loving
them till this awful war is over. Then I'll consent to be exclusive."

"Is that a promise?" cried Roy, while the others laughed delightedly.

"But I didn't mean what you mean," protested Mollie, flushing
vividly. "Oh, dear, why does everybody have to be so foolish?"

"I call upon the others to witness," said Roy, jumping to his feet
and bringing his fist down upon the table, with a force that made
them jump. "Mollie has consented to be exclusive when the war's over,
and you all know what that means."

"Better get it in writing," Allen suggested. "That's the only safe
way."

"And that isn't," said Mollie, recovering.

"Well, we'll see what we shall see," said Roy, sitting down again,
rebuffed but undaunted.

"Gee, it'll be up to Roy to end the war in a hurry now," grinned
Frank. "If we don't look out, he'll be starting some peace trip, and
getting his name in all the papers."

"Nothing doing," said Roy decidedly. "When I deal with old Fritz, it
will be with a gun!"

"So say we all of us," cried Allen, his eyes kindling, "I tell you,
it won't take us long, when we really begin to get our troops over
there. I'm crazy to get into it."

"So am I," cried Betty, getting up energetically and beginning to
clear away the dishes. "And the first thing to do is to get back to
town where we can really start something. Goodness, I wish these
dishes were washed."

"If all your wishes were granted so quickly," smiled Mrs. Irving, as
the other girls went at the task with equal vigor, "you wouldn't have
anything to worry about."

Two hours later the campers were standing on the deck of the
ridiculous little ferryboat, that still plied between Pine Island and
the mainland, looking with mingled emotions toward the spot where
they had spent so many pleasant hours.

"Do you remember," Amy said thoughtfully, as the girls stood in a
group in the bow of the boat, "how sorry we were to leave the island
that other summer? And now--"

"We're almost glad," finished Grace.

"We're glad because we're going to do our share in the biggest thing
that ever happened to this world," said Betty tensely. "We're glad
because we've got the greatest country in the world, and are going to
do our best to keep it the greatest country in the world. We're glad,
most of all, because--we're Americans!"

CHAPTER IX

GAY CONSPIRATORS

"It's all right," Mollie was saying, "to give our time and labor and
everything like that, but the Red Cross needs money. If we could only
find some way to raise it!"

The four girls were seated on the porch of Betty's house in Deepdale,
busy as always, with their knitting. Mollie and Betty were swaying
gently in the big porch swing, while Grace and Amy were curled up
comfortably in roomy wicker armchairs.

The weather was perfect--a typical fall day, with the brilliant
sunshine peeping in under the edge of the awning, creeping up almost
to the feet of the girls, while vagrant breezes, spicy and pungent
with the smell of burning leaves, fanned their faces, and stirred
them to a new restlessness, a new desire for action.

"Well, why not?" asked Betty, putting down her knitting, and looking
from one to the other. "I don't see why it should be impossible for
us to raise money."

"Betty, have you a plan?" asked Amy, gazing hopefully toward the
Little Captain. "I've thought of all sorts of things, from taking a
course in stenography to taking in washing, but nothing seems to be
just right, somehow."

"Goodness, I should think not," said Grace, while Betty and Mollie
giggled happily. "I can't imagine you in the role of chief
washerwoman to Deepdale, Amy; and as for stenography--think how much
you would have to spend before you began to earn any money."

"My idea's very much simpler than either of those," said Betty
demurely. "I thought--though of course it may not be possible, at
all--that we might give a lawn fête and charge fifty cents admission,
a person. We know pretty nearly everybody in Deepdale, and if only a
third of them came we'd raise quite a big sum."

"Betty, that's splendid," cried Mollie, clapping her hands excitedly,
forgetful of the needles she still held. "We can have fortune-telling
booths and tableaux, and perhaps a sketch of some kind. Oh, won't it
be fun?"

"It ought to be," said Grace conservatively, starting to wind another
skein of wool. "But if we have all those things I think we ought to
charge a dollar."

"Goodness, I don't think they'd get their money's worth," smiled
Betty whimsically. "A dollar's rather a lot of money to pay for a
lawn party."

"Well, they ought to be willing to give something, just for the sake
of patriotism," said Amy quietly--for there was no better patriot in
all of Deepdale than Amy.

"Yes, but don't you see, we want to give them their money's worth,"
Mollie argued excitedly. "Because then we'll feel we've really earned
whatever we raise."

"Well, we will earn it," said Betty earnestly. "We have, as Doctor Morely
says, 'a good deal of local talent' that we ought to be able to win over
to our side, and if we really go into the thing to make it a success,
it will be one. And a successful lawn party is no end of fun."

"Goodness, you've got me so excited, I can't wait to begin," cried
Mollie, waving her needles about in a way to endanger seriously
Betty's eyesight. "I want to start something."

"If you don't stop poking me with those needles, you will start
something," threatened Betty, moving to the opposite corner of the
swing, and as far from danger as possible. "You wouldn't need a
bayonet in the trenches, Mollie dear. The whole German army would
drop dead, if they saw you moving down upon them with a knitting
needle. Stop it, I tell you, or I shall be forced to take them away
from you."

"Oh, look who's going to take them away," mocked Mollie, continuing
her wild dabs and dashes. "There isn't a man, much less a woman, on
this earth could take these knitting needles away from me, against my
will."

"Looks as if I'd have to start a little war of my own," remarked
Betty ruefully, carefully putting away her own knitting and preparing
for action. "I never yet let a challenge like that pass me by--Oh,
Allen, you startled me!"

"Sorry," said Allen, making his usual, though undignified, entrance
over the railing of the porch, and seating himself with a sigh of
content in one of the big chairs. "Say, what was all the row about?"
he added, looking with interest at Mollie's still threatening
needles, and Betty's general air of preparation for attack. "About a
mile away I heard the noise, and thought I'd drop in to see who was
getting killed."

"A mile away," sniffed Mollie, abandoning the attack, while Betty
once more opened her knitting bag. "If girls are good fibbers I
wonder what they'd call men."

"Li--I mean prevaricators," said Allen cheerfully, and the girls
gasped in dismay. "Well, you asked me, didn't you?" he argued,
laughing at their shocked faces. "I only tried to be obliging."

"Then we like you better when you're not," said Betty primly.

"But what was the row?" he persisted. "I'm sure I interrupted
something, and if I'm still intruding, I'll go away so you can finish
it."

"Oh, we were just starting a new kind of war," Mollie explained. "We
call it the war of the knitting needles."

"That's just what I told the fellows," said Allen, shaking his head
sorrowfully, "only they wouldn't believe me."

"Now what are you talking about?" asked Grace, without looking up
from her knitting. "I know you want somebody to ask it, so I'll be--as
you would say in vulgar slang--the goat."

"That's right! Blame it all, even the slang, on us," said Allen
plaintively. "That's the way the girls----"

"Goodness, you can't tell us anything about ourselves we don't know,"
said Mollie impatiently. "We want to know what you told the boys."

"Oh, about the needles," said Allen, stretching out his long legs,
and locking his fingers behind his head. "I just happened to remark
that while we were killing each other off with bayonets in the
trenches, the women and girls would be knitting themselves to death
at home, so there would probably be an equal number of both sexes
when the war was over."

"Oh, dear, there you go, joking about it again," sighed Amy. "And you
made me lose a stitch too. Oh, dear, that's the first one in the
whole sweater."

"Hand it over," said Betty patiently. "I may be able to catch it for
you, so you won't have to rip out too much. Oh, Allen, what do you
suppose we are going to do?"

"What?" queried Allen, gazing admiringly from the busy deft fingers
to the pretty bent head.

"We're going to give a lawn party," she answered. "It's going to be
as elaborate an affair as possible, and we're going to charge a
dollar admission."

"Whew," said Allen, sitting up and regarding each one of the flushed
conspirators in turn. "What's this--a get-rich-quick-scheme?"

"I should say not!" said Mollie hotly. "Isn't that just exactly like
a man? _Everything_ we do isn't selfish."

"Well, what _is_ the idea?" asked poor Allen patiently. "If you'd
just tell a fellow----"

"It's for the Red Cross," Betty explained, "I'm afraid that stitch is
too far down to get back, Amy dear. You'll have to rip out a little.
You see we want to raise a lot of money," she went on, raising her
pretty head and speaking quickly. "When we decided to join the Red
Cross, as you know we have, we didn't mean to go into it half way. It
didn't seem to us enough, just to give our time and labor--we wanted
to raise actual cash. And this seemed the best way to do it."

"I think it's a mighty fine idea," said Allen heartily. "And as I
don't think there's a more patriotic town on the map than little old
Deepdale, I should think you ought to be able to raise quite a
considerable pile. I'll help all I can."

"Oh, Allen, will you?" cried Betty excitedly. "Oh, if you boys will
only help, we'll be _sure_ to make it a success. I can't wait to
begin."

"Well, why do we have to wait?" asked Mollie practically. "Why can't
we start in planning and rehearsing to-night?"

"There's no reason in the world why we can't," cried Betty, putting
away her knitting definitely, and beginning to pace up and down the
porch as she always did when thinking things out. "Allen, do you
think you can round up the boys, and do you think they'll all be
willing to help us?"

"Of course," said Allen, without taking his eyes from her. "I'll
bring them around to-night if you say so."

"Good! Then there's Gladys Alden who plays the violin beautifully,
and Jean Ratcliffe who can recite like a professional and--oh, dear,
there's no end to the talent. And we'll----" she paused dramatically
and surveyed them with dancing eyes. "We'll--give a play!"

"But a play takes time," Allen objected; "and if you're counting us
fellows in on it, you'll have to make it soon. We may be called any
time now."

"Oh, but don't you remember that play we were going to give one
time?" Mollie broke in eagerly. "And then somebody's relative was
taken sick, and broke the whole thing up? That was a good little
sketch, and I don't think it would take us very long to brush it up
again."

"Mollie, you're a genius," cried Betty, stopping before Mollie and
hugging her rapturously. "Why, of course it won't take us any time at
all to get that in shape, and it's sure to take well."

"Do you know what would make a hit?" suggested Allen, catching the
general spirit of enthusiasm. "If this is going to be an outdoor
affair, we ought to have a big tent with a stage at one end, for this
concert and sketch business. We could make it mighty picturesque,
with Japanese lanterns, and we fellows might be able to rig up some
batteries and electric lights for footlights."

"That would be wonderful," cried Grace, shaken out of her usual calm.
"That would be the big attraction. Then we could have little booths
for fortune-telling, and such things, scattered about the place."

"And ice cream and cake counters," cried Amy, her eyes wide and dark
with excitement. "We girls could make the cakes, so it wouldn't cost
so much."

"Allen," interrupted Betty, gazing eagerly down the street. "There
goes Roy now. Won't you go after him, and tell him to be sure to be
here to-night? Frank and Will, too--don't let them say no!"

"All right," said Allen obligingly, untwining his long legs, and
taking the steps two at a time. "I go to do your bidding, Princess."

"And, Allen," Betty ran down the steps to call after him, "whatever
you do--come early!"

CHAPTER X

MAGIC LANTERNS

Two weeks of constant hustle, excitement and preparation passed by
until at last came--the big night!

It was seven o'clock and Betty had started to dress. Mechanically,
with fingers that shook a little from excitement, she went through
the early stages of the process, until it was time to slip into the
pretty filmy lace dress she was to wear for the first part of the
evening.

Then her eyes met the reflected ones in the mirror, and she stopped
short, wondering "if this were really I." She was very sure that that
very pretty girl in the mirror, with the flushed cheeks and brilliant
eyes, could never be the Betty Nelson she had grown up with--it could
not be! And yet she thrilled with a strange new happiness. It was so
good to be pretty.

Then she drew a deep breath, and turned away with a little rippling
laugh at herself.

"Betty Nelson," she scolded, slipping the pretty dress over her head,
and keeping her eyes severely away from the mirror, "you'll be
getting conceited next; and if there's anything I hate, it's a
conceited person."

At a quarter of eight there came a ring at the door bell, and Betty's
heart missed a beat. It proved to be only Allen, however--but,
strange as it may seem, that fact did not seem to improve the
behavior of her heart in the least.

As for Allen, he simply stood and stared, as a transformed Betty ran
down the stairs toward him.

"Oh, Allen, I'm _so_ glad it was only you," she said, holding out her
hands to him--which he seemed by no means reluctant to take. "I was
so hoping you'd get here before the rest. There are one or two things
I want to talk over with you."

"Betty," he whispered, his voice sounding strange, even to himself,
"you're so pretty, I can't think of anything else, or look at
anything else, while you're around. I always did have trouble that
way, but to-night----"

"I--I'm--just the same to-night as I always am," she stammered, not
daring to look at him. "Allen, dear--I----"

"What did you call me?" he shouted, turning her about so she had to
look at him. "Betty, Betty, say it again. I, oh, I--"

"I--I didn't mean it," gasped Betty, joyfully afraid, wanting to run
away, yet wanting desperately not to. "I don't know what made me----"

"Don't you?" he cried, that same wild thrill in his voice. "Then I'll
tell you, Betty. You said it because----"

"Good evening, Allen." It was Mrs. Nelson's voice as she came
unsuspectingly upon them from the dining-room. "I didn't even know
you were here. Betty and I were hoping you would get here early. The
footlights don't work just as they should----" and Allen's golden
hour was gone, for the moment, at least.

He gazed pleadingly toward Betty, but she had put an arm about her
mother--Allen noticed with joy that it trembled a little--and was
leading the way toward the rear of the house, and out upon the lawn,
where the big tent had been erected.

It took Allen, who, besides being a very able and rising young
lawyer, was also something of an electrician, about two minutes to
find the flaw in the wiring and remedy it. Soon after that the first
guests began to arrive.

The rest of the evening was one brilliant panorama, that the girls
never forgot. Until nine o'clock, the time set for the concert and
sketch in the big tent, the guests, about two hundred in number,
wandered happily about the lawn, watching "Denton's trained animals,"
which consisted of a little French poodle, an aristocratic yellow
cat, and a gifted parrot, with an immense and varied vocabulary,
perform.

The animals were the undisputed property of this young Denton, who
had grown up in Deepdale, and who, being a lover of animals, had
untiringly trained his pets, until their fame had spread all over the
town. He had a booth all to himself, and was having more fun than the
spectators--and that was saying a good deal, judging from the merry
laughter and jests issuing from the tent.

There were several other attractions, the favorite, after "Denton's
trained animals," being the fortune-telling booth. This was presided
over by Jessie Johnson--one of the jolliest and wittiest of the
Deepdale girls. She was made up to resemble an old crone, and her
fortune-telling kept her victims in gales of laughter.

"Isn't it great?" cried Mollie, hugging Betty rapturously, as they
met behind the scenes in the big tent about nine o'clock. "I knew it
would be a success, but this is better even than I expected."

"Mollie," returned Betty, and there was a strange new thrill in her
voice, that made her friend look at her quickly, "I'm happy, happy,
happy! I thought I knew what it was to be happy before, but I never
did. I just feel like shouting aloud and hugging everybody I see. Oh,
I never dreamed we'd make such a success of it!"

"It isn't over yet, though," said Mollie, beginning to feel a little
panicky. "We've got to speak _our_ little piece yet, and I never did
feel quite sure of that last line."

"Oh, goodness, don't begin to worry now," cried Betty. "Our last
rehearsal was perfect, and we've never fallen down in anything we've
tried to do yet."

"Well, there has to be a beginning to everything, hasn't there?"
argued Mollie pessimistically. "I'm perfectly sure I'm going to
forget that last line. I feel it coming on."

"Well, then you deserve to lose it," said Betty, knowing very well
how best to handle Mollie. "You'll do just whatever you think you're
going to do, and if you think you're going to fail, you'll fail!"

"I'm not going to fail any more than you are, Betty Nelson," cried
Mollie, her eyes blazing. "I've never seen anything yet I couldn't do
as well as you."

"Goodness, what's this?" cried gentle Amy, aghast, coming upon the
two suddenly. "You're not quarreling, are you?"

"What did it sound like--talk about the weather?" asked Mollie
sarcastically. "You just wait and _see_ what I'll do, Betty Nelson!"
and she marched out with her nose in the air.

"Oh, dear," sighed Amy; "and I thought everything was going so
beautifully."

"It is," chuckled Betty, and hustled the bewildered Amy out another
door of the tent.

Then came Allen, dressed as a herald of olden times, and blew in
golden notes, a message to the people scattered about the lawn, that
the real attraction of the evening was about to begin.

The girls had worried a little for fear the big tent would not be
able to accommodate all the guests, so great had been their response
to the call of patriotism, but it was found to their intense relief
that, although a few had to stand at the back, all could be admitted.

The first part of the program consisted of music, recitations and
some very cleverly arranged tableaux. Everything was remarkably good,
as the hearty applause testified, and behind the scenes everywhere,
was jubilation.

"Now if we only do as well," said Grace, as the improvised curtain
dropped, signaling the intermission, "we'll not have anything to
worry about."

"We will," said Betty confidently. "Jean, you did wonderfully," she
added, to the girl who had been the elocutionist of the evening. "I
thought it was wonderful at the last rehearsal, but you outdid
yourself to-night. And you, too, Larry. Oh, it's such a success!"

They fairly danced with impatience during the intermission, and were
ready with their costumes and stage settings before the ten minutes
was up.

"Oh, I'm so frightened, I can hardly stand up," chattered Amy as she
and Betty stood together, waiting for the endless last minute to drag
past. "Betty, if this is stage fright, it's a lot worse than I
thought. I can't think of a line I have to say."

"Well, you'd better not keep that up _too_ long," returned Betty
grimly. "It might be serious. There, that's Allen's cue."

Local talent had even produced an orchestra for the sketch, and
although once in a while, the cornetist forgot to toot, or the first
violin became excited and left the rest of his flock behind to follow
him as best it might, still the music was pretty good and added
considerably to the general effect.

And the play was the crowning glory of the evening! The stage fright
which had threatened to overwhelm the actors, magically disappeared
when they found themselves put upon their mettle, and they frolicked
through the play, with an ease and naive enjoyment that delighted
their audience and brought storms of applause.

The play was called, "A Day in Court." It was a professional
production which had been almost completely rewritten by Allen and
Betty. The judge was a woman, and the various characters brought
before her, were all more or less funny. One character had originally
been a German servant girl, suing her mistress for wages, but this
character, on account of the war, was changed to Irish, and was
impersonated by Amy with marked success.

Betty was the woman judge, and the way she laid down the law was most
marvelous, and brought forth many peals of laughter.

Will, in a most ridiculous costume, performed the offices of court
clerk.

Mollie impersonated a French flower girl, who had failed to receive
pay for bouquets sold to a local dude, a part played by Roy Anderson,
and it developed during the court scene, that the dude was engaged to
two girls at once, impersonated by Grace and another girl.

There was an irate uncle of one of the girls, none other than Frank
Haley, and Allen as the brother of the other girl, who also demanded
satisfaction, and the mix-up in the courtroom was most realistic.

"About the funniest thing I ever saw in my life," was Mr. Nelson's
comment.

"They are certainly doing remarkably well," answered Mrs. Billette,
who chanced to sit near by.

"If those youngsters keep on doing as well as that, they'll all want
to go on the professional stage," remarked Mr. Ford.

All during the ice cream and cake part of the entertainment the young
performers were fêted and congratulated, till they began, as Roy
expressed it, "to feel themselves some punkins."

It was late before the last guest had departed, still laughingly
bandying jests back and forth, and the Little Captain and the group
of her particular chums and followers were left alone. Then--

"I wish it were beginning all over again," said Amy, leaning her head
against a pillar of the porch and gazing dreamily up at the stars. "I
never had such a good time in my life."

"It seems to me I'm always saying that," sighed Betty, sinking into
the hammock, and laughing up at Allen, as he stood before her. "It's
wonderful when life is just a succession of good times."

"Betty," he answered, sitting down beside her, and finding her hand
under cover of the darkness, "that's my one ambition--to make life
for you just a 'succession of good times.'"

"But I guess that never happens to anybody," she said, trying to
speak lightly. "And I don't know that just having good times is a
very big ambition. No--I--didn't mean that, Allen," she added
quickly, seeing she had hurt him. "You've always been altogether too
good to me. I--I guess I don't deserve it."

"There's nothing half good enough for you," said Allen fervently.
"Betty," he added, after a slight pause, "I--I may have to go away
pretty soon, and before I go I want you to know----"

"Say, Allen, are you going home like a respectable citizen, or shall
we have to use force?" It was Roy who accosted him, and Allen
muttered something under his breath.

"I'm going home when I get good and ready," he was beginning, when
Betty herself jumped to her feet and held out a hand to him.

"It _is_ getting late," she said, "and we're all going to meet to-morrow,
anyway, so we won't even say good-bye. _Au revoir,_ everybody. It's
been such a night!"

As she stood on the porch waving her hand to them, Allen hesitated a
moment, started forward, then ran back again.

"There will come a night," he whispered, close in her ear, "when you
won't get rid of me so easily."

And Betty, left alone, smiled a new smile at the stars.

CHAPTER XI

A SLACKER?

Two weeks went by after the great night, two weeks of ceaseless
activity. The fame of Betty's lawn party had spread all over
Deepdale, and countless smaller affairs on the same order had been
given. As imitation is always the sincerest flattery, the girls were
delighted.

"For we have the fun of knowing we started it," Mollie had said.

"Yes," said Betty. "We've made people understand that the Red Cross
needs money, but, girls, there's another branch of the war work that
isn't receiving much attention."

"What's that?" queried Grace, interested. It was just like Betty to
have things entirely thought out before she said anything about them.
"I never saw anybody with so many plans as you, Betty. You make my
head swim."

"Well, there's the Y.W.C.A.," Betty explained. "It's doing wonderful
work, but it will need a great deal more money than it has now, to
keep it up in these war times."

"Goodness," said Amy. "I wish we'd thought about it sooner. The boys
are sure they're going to be called every day, and if we took time to
get up anything like the entertainment we had before, we couldn't
have them in it."

"Oh, we couldn't give an affair like that without the boys," said
Mollie decidedly, a fact which she would never have admitted in the
hearing of the young men themselves. "And I'd hate to give anything
tame, after the big success we had with the other one."

"That's just it," Betty pursued, holding a sock up to the light and
regarding it critically. "I met Mrs. Barton Ross to-day----"

"Oh, isn't she lovely?" Amy interrupted enthusiastically. "By the
time you've talked with her five minutes you're willing to promise
her anything in the world."

"Goodness, I wish I had a gift like that," said Grace. "I could talk
all day and nobody'd do _anything_ for me."

"That's gratitude, isn't it?" said Mollie, in an aggrieved tone.
"Here I walk two whole blocks out of my way, to buy you a box of
candy when you didn't even ask me to----"

"Did you say you bought that box of candy for me?" asked Grace
bitterly, eying the alluring box, where it lay in Mollie's lap.
"Every time I want one I have to look extra sweet and go down on my
knees."

"More ingratitude," sighed Mollie. "Didn't I hear the doctor say you
must stop eating so much ice cream and candy, if you wanted to keep
your marvelous complexion?"

"No, you didn't," retorted Grace, "for the simple reason, that I
haven't been to the doctor's for over two years."

"That's right, I guess it _was_ your mother," Mollie admitted,
wickedly helping herself to a delicious morsel.

"Goodness, my family's been prophesying that thing ever since I can
remember," Grace retorted, putting aside her knitting, and drawing
nearer to the candy box. "If I had listened to them I'd have worried
myself into all sorts of things by this time."

"Instead you'd rather _eat_ yourself into them," sighed Mollie
primly, handing over the box with an air of resignation. "Betty, what
was it you were saying?"

Betty chuckled.

"First of all, Grace is walking off with your wool," she said. "Look
out, Grace, you'll break it."

"It was about Mrs. Barton Ross, wasn't it?" asked Amy patiently.

"Oh, yes! Well, she suggested that we give the same performance over
again. Everybody liked it, and any number of people had spoken to her
about it, saying they'd like to see it over again. Of course we'd
have to leave out the booths and things; they would take too much
time to get ready, but we might give the sketch."

"Goodness, that's a regular compliment," gurgled Mollie, knitting
furiously. "Instead of--as Roy would say--'getting the hook,' they
ask us to do it all over again. I wouldn't have thought any audience
would stand for it."

"Well," continued Betty, "I told Mrs. Ross I'd talk it over with you
folks, and if we did it at all, it would be for the benefit of the
Y.W.C.A. Of course, we don't know how the boys will feel about it."

But the boys were perfectly willing to give the play again, declaring
that "if Deepdale could stand for it, they surely could."

Deepdale did stand for it to the amount of a sum that made Mrs.
Barton Ross open her eyes wide in delighted astonishment. The affair
was a huge success.

"I don't know how to thank you," she had said to Betty and Grace, who
had been appointed by the others to take the money to her. "You girls
have waked Deepdale up with a vengeance. We were always intensely
patriotic, but we hardly knew how to go about showing it, until you
came and pointed the way."

Mrs. Barton Ross was the manager of the local Y.W.C.A., and every one
in Deepdale both loved and respected her personally and as an
influence for good.

"I believe," said Betty, as the two girls left her and started for
home, "I'd like to join the Y.W.C.A. also if only to be near Mrs.
Barton Ross. When I've talked with her for a little while, I always
feel as if I'd been to church, or something like that."

And that was the way it came about. Not being satisfied with Red
Cross work alone, the Outdoor Girls joined the Y.W.C.A., and from
that time on their days were filled to overflowing.

"It's all very well to knit in the day time," Roy complained one
stormy evening, when the four couples of young folks had congregated
in Mollie's cheerful living-room; "but I don't see why you have to
keep it up all evening too. It gets me dizzy just to watch the
needles."

"Well, why don't you get busy and learn to knit yourselves?" asked
Mollie with a twinkle. "Percy Falconer was telling me that in one
place several men had gotten together, and formed a knitting club. Of
course, they're too old to join the army or the navy, so they thought
they'd do their bit that way."

"Yes, and they've even made up a knitting song," chuckled Betty. "And
while they knit, they sing."

"The little dears," said Frank disgustedly. "Well, thank heaven, I'm
not too old to fight."

"I imagine that's just the sort of club dear Percy would like to
join," remarked Allen, smiling. "It's easier to imagine him in a
corner by the fireside knitting socks for soldiers, than in any other
role."

Percy Falconer was the dude of Deepdale, whom the other vigorous and
hearty young folks pitied more than they despised.

"I wonder if he'll enlist," said Roy interestedly. "It's kind of hard
to picture old Percy washing his own dishes."

"Enlist!" snorted Frank. "Of course he won't. He'll wait till he's
drafted, and then pray every night that he'll be sick or something,
so he won't have to go. I know his kind."

"Oh, there'll probably be a lot that will try to dodge the draft by
dropping hammers on their toes, and cutting off their fingers and all
such clever and noble little things as that," said Allen.

"Oh, Allen, do you think so?" asked Amy, gazing at him with horrified
eyes over her knitting.

"Why, of course," Roy backed him up. "It won't happen so much among
our boys. The slum districts will get most of it. Some of those
suckers would do almost anything to get out of fighting."

"Goodness," said Betty, with a little shiver. "I should think it
would take lots more courage to hurt yourself than to take a chance
on getting shot in the trenches. I don't see how anybody can do it."

"Oh, they're doing worse things than that," said Allen with a
chuckle. "Hundreds of the scared ones are getting married in the hope
that they can get out of it that way."

"Jumping from the frying pan into the fire," grinned Roy.

"Or from one war to another," added Frank, while the girls made faces
at them.

"But isn't Congress going to pass some sort of law," asked Betty
earnestly--Allen reflected how very pretty she was when in
earnest--"that will make that kind of man serve first? It seems to me
I read something about it in the paper."

"Goodness, I don't even get time to read the paper any more," sighed
Amy. "I feel wicked if I stop knitting for five minutes."

"We'll allow you that much," said Allen graciously. "Why, yes, there
is a law like that pending, Betty, and I imagine there will be quite
a few happy homes broken up."

"Did you hear about Herb Wilson?" asked Roy suddenly.

Herbert Wilson was another of the Deepdale boys.

"No," was the answer. "What's he been doing now?"

"Why, he was spending the week-end at a house party when his folks
telegraphed him that his orders had come, and he was to report for
duty the next morning. Well, the poor old chap didn't even have time
to get home and say goodbye--had to rush off the next morning and was
sent down South. His mother came over to see mine, and, the way she
went on about it, you'd have thought Herb was going to be shot at
sunrise!"

"Herb ought to answer like the old negro my uncle had on his
plantation," remarked Allen with a smile. "'Marse,' he said, 'dar
ain't no chaince o' my bein' shot at sunrise--no, sah. I don' never
git up dat early.'"

They laughed, and Grace remarked casually:

"I admire that negro. He has my own idea exactly."

"You know, as far as I'm concerned I rather envy Herb," said Frank,
while the girls stared at him in surprise. "Not for being called away
without having time to say good-bye to his folks, of course, but for
receiving his orders. Waiting and expecting them every day is mighty
hard on your nerves, I can tell you."

"Gee, it's time we were moving, Grace," said Will, jumping up. He had
been silent for the greater part of the evening. "It's getting late
and you've done enough knitting for one day."

This was the signal for a general breaking up, and as the young folks
rose to say good-bye they stole furtive glances at Will.

What was the matter with him? they wondered. Will, who had always
been the life of a party before, and so intensely patriotic and
thoroughly American! Yet he was the only one among them who was not
shouldering his share of the nation's responsibility.

As Allen lingered after he and Betty had reached her home she spoke
her wonderment and worry.

"Allen," she said, a little troubled line between her brows, "do you
know what's the matter with Will? Is he, can he be--a slacker?"

"I don't know," said Allen, shoving his hands deep into his pockets
as he always did when anything was, as he expressed it, "too deep for
him." "I can't make him out at all, Betty. We'll just have to hope
for the best."

"That's all we can do," she answered, and gave a long-drawn sigh.

CHAPTER XII

HONOR FLAGS

"Yes, yes, this is Betty.--Oh, Allen!--When?--To-morrow morning! Oh,
isn't that terribly short notice?--Oh, I can't, I can't believe
it!--Roy and Frank, too?--No, I didn't hear about it--Listen,
Allen.--No, I'm _not_ crying.--What's that?--Well, I'm trying not
to!--Please listen to me.--Bring the boys around here to-night,
will you? I'll get the girls and we'll have a p-party.--No, I'm
_not_ crying.--G-good-bye!"

With a little jerk Betty hung up the receiver, and sat staring out of
the window with the tears streaming down her cheeks. She brushed them
away impatiently and felt feverishly for her pocket handkerchief.

"Oh, I h-hate the old Kaiser, and I hate the old war, and I h-hate
everything!" she wailed, rolling the handkerchief up into a miserable
little ball. "Wh-what will we do when the b-boys are gone and we
haven't anything to do, but just think of the time they'll be sent
over to France to get k-killed? Oh, Betty, don't act so f-foolish,"
she scolded, putting away the handkerchief with an air of decision.
"You know you wouldn't have had them do anything else anyway----

"Oh, there's that old telephone again.

"Yes, hello, Mollie.--Isn't it terrible?--Oh, do come around--and
stay for supper.--I--can't bear to be left alone.--Good-bye."

"Well, what are we going to do?"

The four girls had gathered once more on Betty's porch and were
regarding each other mournfully.

"Do?" echoed Grace. "Why, we can't do anything, of course, but let
them go."

"But it won't seem at all like Deepdale!" mourned Amy.

"Well, the only thing I can see that we can do," sighed Mollie, "is
to become Red Cross nurses and go across with them."

"That probably wouldn't do any good, either," objected Betty, "as far
as being with the boys is concerned, because we'd probably be sent to
another part of the field entirely, and probably wouldn't see them
from the beginning of the war to the end of it. No, I guess we'll
just have to keep on knitting for them."

"They're going to write to us, anyway," said Mollie. "And we must
write to them a good deal, too. They say the boys are just crazy for
letters when they're away from home."

"Yes, and sometimes girls and women correspond with boys they never
saw and never expect to see," added Amy, "just because they haven't
any relatives, and it makes it less lonesome for them."

"I imagine we'll have all we want to do just to keep up our
correspondence with the boys we know," said Betty, knitting steadily.
"I think it's wonderful the way practically all of Deepdale has
volunteered. It makes you proud to live here."

"Yes, and they all seem to be leaving about the same time, too," said
Mollie. "Service flags are springing up all over town."

"It's terrible," said Amy, with another sigh. "I can't walk along the
street and see those flags in the houses of people we've grown up
with, without having a funny lump rise in my throat, and I have to
hurry past to keep myself from acting foolishly."

"I guess none of us really knew we were at war until all the boys we
know began to be called away," said Grace seriously. "And I know you
girls must all think it's strange--" she paused for a moment as if
uncertain just how to proceed, and the girls looked at her in
surprise.

"I--I'm so worried about Will," Grace continued, not raising her eyes
from her knitting. "He hasn't been himself for a month--you girls
must have noticed that--and he won't give me any satisfaction at all
when I ask him what's the matter. We--he and I--used to be such good
friends----" her voice broke and the girls' hearts ached for her,
"and now he acts just like a stranger--only asks to be left alone.
And he's so moody and queer and silent----" Her voice trailed off and
for a long time no one spoke.

The girls were troubled, and they longed to give her sympathy. It was
hard to know just what to say, for Will had puzzled them all sorely.

"I wouldn't worry too much, Gracie, dear," said Betty, at last, going
over and sitting down beside her friend. "Will has some problem that
he's trying to work out all by himself. We know that he's true blue
all the way through, and when he's ready to confide in us, he'll do
it. Until then, we've just got to trust him, that's all, and help him
all we can by our good faith."

Grace's head had dropped on Betty's shoulder and she was crying
softly.

"B-Betty, you're such a comfort," she murmured as Betty gently
stroked her hair. "That was j-just what I w-wanted you to say. I've
been so m-miserable."

That was more than the girls could stand, for they remembered how
gallantly Grace had striven to hide her trouble during all these
weeks, and they gathered around her, whispering little words of
endearment and comfort, till she started to laugh and cry together,
calling herself an "old goose" and clinging to them desperately.

It was some time before they grew calm and could speak coherently.
Then Amy sighed and said:

"Oh, dear, it's a quarter past six and I promised to be home by six
sharp. Now what shall I do?"

"Telephone your brother that you're staying here," said the Little
Captain decidedly. "The boys are coming to-night, you know, and you
can all help me with the spread. No, you needn't waste time
arguing--you're going to stay."

And when Betty spoke in that tone, no one dared dispute with her.

It was half past eight before the boys came, and the girls were
getting so nervous and impatient they could hardly sit still.

"Do you suppose they could have forgotten?" Amy was beginning, when
the sound of masculine voices in excited conversation floated to them
on the breeze, and she stopped short to listen.

"They're coming," cried Mollie. "There's no mistaking Frank's raucous
tones, or Roy's either, for that matter. What do you suppose they're
so excited about?"

A few moments later the boys themselves ran up the steps, greeted the
girls cheerily, and ranged themselves in various attitudes upon the
railing of the porch.

"Say, did you hear the latest news?" asked Roy eagerly, before the
greetings were half over. "Another American ship has been sunk by
those beastly Huns, and quite a number of passengers are reported
missing. Gee, I wish instead of going to a training camp we were
going right across. It seems a crime to be wasting time on this side
when we might be getting at them."

"Another ship!" cried Betty, while the boys eagerly poured forth the
details. "Oh, if I were only a man," she added, clenching her hands
as the recital finished, "I'd fight until there wasn't one German
left on the face of the earth."

"You just leave that to us," said Frank, his eyes gleaming. "We may
not be able to exterminate the whole German nation, but we'll drag
the old Kaiser to his knees and make him kiss the Stars and Stripes
before we get through. Gee, but I'm aching to get right into the
thick of it all!"

"What's this?" asked Betty, as Allen handed her several sheets of
paper, rolled together and fastened with a rubber band.

"Music," explained Allen, who had not taken his eyes from her face
since he had come upon the porch. "A reporter I know handed them to
me. They're all the popular war songs, and I thought perhaps we might
run them over tonight."

They went into the living-room, where Betty's treasured grand piano
was. Betty played and the others sang until they came to "Keep the
Home Fires Burning," when Allen interfered.

"If nobody minds," he said seriously, "I'd like to hear Betty sing
that--alone."

And Betty, who knew the song and had always liked it, started to
sing. But she did not get far. Something swelled and swelled in her
throat and every time she came to the lines:

  "Though our lads are far away
  They think of home--"

tears blinded her eyes, her voice quivered, and she had to stop.

Three times she tried it, then with a little sob, dropped her head on
her arm and sat still. The girls ran to her, while the boys turned
away to hide their own emotion.

"Never mind, Betty dear," whispered Mollie, wiping a tear from the
end of her nose and patting Betty's hand tenderly. "We--we all feel
the same way about it."

Betty raised her head and smiled a little April smile upon them.

"I'll always keep the home fires b-burning," she said unsteadily,
"but I c-can't sing about it."

CHAPTER XIII

"SMILE, GIRLS, SMILE"

"Wake up, Gracie." Betty's voice was low and excited as she shook her
friend into semi-wakefulness. "The boys have to catch the early
train, you know, and we mustn't keep them waiting."

"Yes, I know," said Grace, waking to full consciousness without a
protest--for the first time since Betty had known her. "What time is
it, Betty?"

"Six-thirty," answered Betty, beginning to dress hurriedly. "That's
fifteen minutes later than we should be. Oh, if we should miss seeing
them off!"

"Betty, I don't feel like myself at all," said Grace, after a silence
during which they had both been plunged in thought. She flourished a
shoe in the air and regarded Betty as though it were her fault. "I feel
all quivery and shaky and trembly inside, and I don't think I could
smile if you paid me for it."

"Goodness, I know I couldn't!" said Betty, and then added as she
pinned on the bunch of carnations Allen had brought her the night
before: "We've just got to smile, though, whether we feel like it or
not. We don't want the boys to remember us in tears."

"I should say not!" responded Grace emphatically. "When I cry I'm a
perfect fright. That's why I never do it."

Betty chuckled despite the dull ache at her heart.

"I wasn't quite thinking of that," she said. "But it surely will be
better if we're able to smile a little bit. Come on--let's practice."

They stood together before the mirror, doing their best to smile
naturally, and their very failure to do it made them laugh at
themselves.

"If we're not a couple of geese," said Betty, as arms intertwined,
they descended the stairs. "That's about the first time we ever had
to _try_ to smile. Now for a bite of breakfast."

But, try though they did, they could not eat, and finally had to give
it up entirely.

"We were all to meet at Mollie's, weren't we?" asked Grace, as they
made their way down the sun-flooded street. "Oh, Betty, I'm afraid to
meet anybody, I'm so sure I'm going to make a goose of myself. Will
you hold my hand all the time?"

"Of course," said Betty, laughing unsteadily. "It's always hard to
say good-bye to anybody you--you--like," she added, "but when they're
going away to war and you may never see them again----"

"Please don't," begged Grace, squeezing her hand convulsively. "If
you talk like that I just can't stand it, that's all. It wouldn't
take very much----"

"All right, I won't do it again," cried Betty with forced gaiety.
"Isn't that Mollie waving to us? Of course it is. Come on, Grace,
I'll run you a race."

But Grace was in no mind to run a race, and Betty reached the meeting
place alone, with Grace trailing in the rear.

"Have any of the boys reached here yet?" asked Betty as she ran up
the steps. "I was afraid we'd be late."

"No, they haven't come," said Mollie, looking anxiously down the
street; "and I'm so afraid they'll be late and miss the train, I
don't know what to do. Do you suppose they could have forgotten?"

"Mollie Billette," cried Betty, looking at her wonderingly, "what on
earth----"

"Oh, I know I'm impossibly silly," cried Mollie, dropping into a
chair and rocking nervously; "but I just don't know what I'm saying
this morning. I feel as if somebody was dead."

"Not yet--but soon," boomed a deep voice behind them that made them
jump a foot.

"Roy Anderson!" cried Mollie, her French temper flaring forth.
"That's a nice thing to do--come up behind us and scare us all to
death. And it's not nice to joke about such a serious thing, either."

"Gee, it won't do any good to cry about it," retorted Roy
philosophically, looking around upon the three pretty girls with an
appreciative eye. "I call it a great lark, and if only you girls were
coming along my happiness would be complete."

"Where are the other boys?" broke in Betty. "I thought you were all
coming together."

"I called for both of them," Roy answered, grinning, "but it seems
they'd overslept themselves, and they said they'd be along later."

"Well, if it's very _much_ later," said Grace grimly, "they might as
well go back to bed again. That train isn't going to wait."

"Oh, they'll be here all right," Roy assured her confidently.
"They're not going to be left behind when there's any adventure like
this afoot."

"Here they come now," cried Betty, running to the edge of the porch
and waving frantically. "Amy's with them, too. Must have picked her
up on the way."

"We'll save time if we go on down to meet them," Roy suggested,
taking Grace by the arm. "Come along, girls, we really haven't any
time to waste."

Betty and Mollie needed no such invitation. They were down the steps
and flying along the street before Grace had risen from her chair.

"Oh, we were so afraid you'd be late," gasped Betty, as Allen caught
her on the wing, as it were, and drew her to his side. "And if you
weren't there on time, you might be tried for desertion, mightn't
you?" she added, looking so adorable in her concern that Allen failed
to reassure her right away.

"Well, I don't know that we have to be there just on the minute," he
answered, smiling down at her. "But I may be really tried for
desertion some day. I can't stay away from you very long, Betty."

She flushed and turned her eyes away.

"I wouldn't get you into any trouble for the world," she said
demurely.

"Will you write every day?" pleaded Allen, leaning close, and for the
moment these two were absolutely alone. "Letters are the next best
thing to having you with me, Betty. And if you stop writing, I give
you fair warning I'll come straight home on the next train, furlough
or no furlough, to see what the matter is; and if I get shot at
sunrise, so much the better. Betty, will you promise me?" He said it
pleadingly.

"I--I'll try to write every day," she answered, still not daring to
look at him; "but you mustn't mind if some days it's only a little
line. I'm going to be terribly busy."

"I expect to be busy, too," said Allen, drawing himself up a little;
"but I'd manage to find time to write to you every day if I had to
let other things go."

"Allen," she laid a hand on his arm and he covered it eagerly with
his own, "I _will_ write to you every day and it will be a good long
one, too."

"Not from a sense of duty?" he asked, still a little unbelieving,
though his heart was throbbing painfully. "You won't write just
because you'll think I'll be expecting it, Betty?"

"No," she said, her voice very low, so low that he had to bend close
to catch the words. "I'll write to you, Allen--because I--can't help
myself."

"Betty," he cried, "look at me."

"Th-there's the engine whistle," she said unsteadily.

"Engine whistle be hanged!" cried Allen explosively. "Betty, I want
you to look at me."

Then, as she still turned from him, he deliberately put a hand
beneath her chin and turned her face to meet his.

"Betty, little Betty," he cried tenderly, seeing that her eyes were
wet with tears, "do you care as much as that? Little girl----"

"D-don't be nice to me," she sobbed, feeling for her handkerchief. "I
don't want to c-cry. I want to send you away with a s-smile----"

"Betty," he cried, crushing her to him for a minute, as the train
thundered into the station, "I love you, I love you--do you hear
that? Goodbye, little girl--little girl----"

The boys tore themselves away, not daring to look back until they
reached the train. And the girls stood in a pathetically brave little
group, waving to them and smiling through their tears.

CHAPTER XIV

THE SPY AGAIN

They watched until the train was only a dot in the far distance, then
turned disconsolately away.

"Well, they're gone," said Amy, when they had walked three whole
blocks in silence.

"Goodness, why don't you tell us something we don't know?" snapped
Mollie. "Please forgive me, Amy," she added the next moment, as Amy's
eyes filled with tears. "I know I'm a beast, but I can't seem to
help it this morning."

"Only this morning?" asked Grace maliciously, and Mollie made a face
at her--which went far toward making them feel more normal.

"Didn't the boys say Camp Liberty was only a couple of hundred miles
from here?" asked Betty thoughtfully. Camp Liberty was the cantonment
in which the boys were to receive their initial military training.

"Yes," said Mollie, glancing at her friend sharply. "Now what plan
have you got up your sleeve, Betty Nelson? I never in my life saw a
girl so full of plans."

"Goodness, this isn't a plan," said Betty, though her eyes brightened
eagerly. "It's just a wild idea, that's all. You've all heard of the
Hostess Houses they're establishing at the different camps?"

"Yes," they answered, impatient for what was to come.