The Girls of Central High in Camp: or, the Old Professor's Secret

CHAPTER XXIII
LIZ ON THE DEFENSIVE

The professor had spoken with such authority that Sheriff Larkin hesitated in his intention of landing the bloodhounds. Besides, having learned that one of these girls was a daughter of a member of the powerful lumber company, he feared to make a misstep.

The Rocky River Lumber Company could make or break a sheriff easily enough. The political power of the men owning the corporation in Monadnock County was supreme.

“Well, I tell ye what it is, ladies,” he said, pulling off his broad brimmed hat to wipe a perspiring, red brow. “I gotter do my duty–”

“With the prospect of five hundred dollars ahead of you!” interposed Bobby, pertly.

“That ain’t neither here nor there,” declared the man. “I got to search the island.”

“You know best what you must do, sir,” said Mrs. Morse, coldly. “But I beg of you to leave your dogs on the boat. I am afraid of the brutes.”

“And don’t come to our camp, I pray, looking for any criminal,” said Laura, speaking for the first time.

“Why! I guess not, Ma’am!” cried the sheriff. “Come on, boys. Leave them dawgs tied yere. And we’ll go over the island. It’s purty open timber this end, so he ain’t likely to be near here.”

They had moored the barge. Barnacle had barked himself hoarse. When the sheriff and four of his companions leaped ashore, he put his tail between his legs and scuttled up the hillside again.

At the top he suddenly began to bark once more. He did not face down hill, but seemed distraught about something, or somebody, in the camp.

“Hey!” exclaimed the ugly farmer whom Laura had taken a dislike to the previous day. “That dawg sees something.”

“He is crazy,” spoke up Laura, quickly. “He is like enough barking at our maid.”

“Sure!” rejoined Bobby. “Liz is up there.”

“Come on!” exclaimed the sheriff to his men, and started westward, in the direction Professor Dimp had taken.

“Whom do you suppose the Barnacle is really barking at?” whispered Jess to Laura Belding. “He’d never make all that ‘catouse’ over Liz. In fact, he wouldn’t bark at her at all.”

“Hush!” warned Laura, as the party started up the slope toward the camp.

Jess looked at her curiously. Barnacle was still barking with desperate determination. Liz appeared before the Central High girls climbed to the top of the hillock, and catching the dog by the collar, dragged him over to the corner of the log cabin and snapped on his chain.

“There!” Laura heard her say. “Ye kin bark your head off – but ye can’t run.”

The girl went back to her cook-tent and began clearing up the breakfast things again. Laura noted that she seemed to have done nothing while they were down on the shore.

But that was not surprising; perhaps she had crept near to overhear the talk with the sheriff. Now Liz said nothing to any of them, and went grimly on with her work.

“It’s my turn to help you get dinner, Lizzie,” Laura said, quietly. “What are we going to have? Shall I begin by peeling the potatoes?”

“No. Don’t want yer,” said Liz, shortly.

“Why! of course you want some help–”

“Don’t neither!” snapped the maid-of-all-work.

“Why, Lizzie!” said Laura, in surprise – at least, in apparent surprise! “You surely don’t want to do all the work yourself?”

“I’d ruther,” responded the girl, ungraciously. “You gals are in my way in the tent.”

Now this, of course, was ridiculous. It could mean but one thing: Liz was anxious to be alone in the cook-tent. And why?

Laura, however, merely said:

“Oh! very well. If you prefer not to be helped, Lizzie, that is all right.”

And she walked away; but she did not lose sight of the cook-tent. There was somebody there beside the maid-of-all-work, and Laura was sure she knew who.

Lil was inclined to feel abused. She thought that she should have been taken into the secret at the first.

“But see how you would have kicked,” said the slangy Bobby. “Why! you’d have wanted to go back home by the first boat.”

“I don’t think we ought to have stayed here with that man on the island,” grumbled Lil.

“With the old professor tagging after him?” chuckled Jess. “My goodness! can there be anything more respectable than Old Dimple?”

“If he is, why is he mixed up with this bank thief?” asked Lil, bluntly.

“I don’t believe the young man is any such thing,” announced Laura, hearing this. “He doesn’t look bad. And surely we can trust to the professor’s judgment.”

“And we ought to help Professor Dimp,” said Nell. “Poor old man! I am sorry for him.”

“Say! Old Dimple’s a good sort,” declared Bobby, enthusiastically. “And he certainly stood up to that red-faced sheriff this morning – Oh, gee!” finished the tomboy, with a gasp. “Here he is now.”

“Here’s who?” squealed Lil, whirling around.

“Professor Dimp?” demanded Nell.

But it was the sheriff.

“’Scuse me, young ladies,” he wheezed. “But I feel it my duty to s’arch this yere camp. If you ain’t a-hidin’ of that thar feller, ye won’t mind my pokin’ around a bit, will yer?”

Laura did not say a word. She stood up and looked over at Liz Bean. For a moment the maid-of-all-work seemed petrified.

Then she dove for the growling Barnacle. She untied the rope with which he was fastened.

“Hello!” exclaimed the puffing sheriff. “What’s that for?”

Liz held the Barnacle with difficulty; the dog bared his teeth at the sheriff and uttered a series of most blood-curdling growls.

“You come botherin’ around here,” said Liz, desperately, “an’ I’ll let him fly at ye!”

CHAPTER XXIV
THE BARNACLE TREES SOMETHING AT LAST

Both the girls of Central High, and their brothers and boy friends, in the camp across the lake, had believed the Barnacle to be “all bluff.” He was a fine dog for barking, as Short and Long had said, but he acted as though he thought his teeth had been given him for chewing his food, and for nothing else.

The savage way in which he bayed the sheriff, however, and tried to get at him as Liz held him in leash, was really surprising. It was no wonder that Sheriff Larkin started back and cried out in alarm.

“Don’t you dare set that dawg on me, young woman!” he cried. “I’ll have the law on yer, if yer do.”

“He’ll chaw yer up if I let him go,” threatened Liz. “Git out o’ here!”

“Why, Lizzie!” gasped Mrs. Morse, coming to the door of the cabin, and speaking to the girl in a most amazed tone. “What does this mean?”

“He’s a body snatcher! he’s a man hunter! he’s ev’rything mean an’ filthy!” exclaimed the girl, her face red and her eyes blazing. Her appearance was really most astonishing. Laura would never have believed that “Lonesome Liz” could display so much emotion.

“Let him bother this camp if he dares!” went on Liz. “He was told by that old gentleman to keep away from here, wasn’t he? Then let him run, for I ain’t a-goin’ to hold this dawg in much longer!”

It seemed that her threat would hold true. At every leap Barnacle made, he seemed about to tear the rope from her grasp.

“Missis!” yelled the sheriff to Mrs. Morse. “You’d better call that gal off–”

“She ain’t got nothin’ to do with it,” declared Liz. “I ain’t workin’ for her no more. I ain’t workin’ for nobody. I’ve struck, I have! You can’t hold nobody responserble but me an’ Barnacle.”

“The gal’s crazy!” squalled the sheriff, going rapidly backward, for the dog and Liz were advancing.

“Well, you won’t shet me up in no ’sylum,” declared Liz, grimly. “But ye may send me ter the penitentiary.”

“Did you ever hear the like?” gasped Lil, clinging to Nellie and Jess. “That girl’s mad.”

“She is brave,” muttered Jess. “But – but I wonder what she’s up to?”

Laura did not question the maid-of-all-work. She thought she already knew. There was method in Lizzie’s madness, that was sure!

She was driving the bullying sheriff away from the cook-tent – away from the camp, indeed. He was going sideways like a crab, and Barnacle was growling and almost choking himself as he tugged at his collar.

“Git out! Scat!” exclaimed Liz. “I’m a-goin’ to let this dawg go!”

“Don’cher dare!” shouted Sheriff Larkin.

But the girl deliberately stooped over Barnacle, and began to unfasten the rope. At that the officer of the law turned and lumbered down the hill.

Where his companions were the girls did not know. And the barge with the bloodhounds had been poled off shore a few rods. The keeper was sitting on it and calmly smoking his pipe.

Sheriff Larkin was some rods from the shore. With a sudden roar Barnacle slipped his leash and tore down the slope. The dog had run a lot of game on Acorn Island since being landed here; but never a quarry like this.

The big man gave one glance behind and then lost all hope of reaching the boat. There was a low-branching tree before him: He leaped for the nearest branch and swung his booted legs for a moment while he tried to hitch up on the limb.

The Barnacle jumped for him. The dog fastened to his heel, and for the first time the girls saw that the mongrel-cur really had a terrific grip.

Sheriff Larkin scrambled up into the tree; but for half a minute Barnacle swung from him, clear of the ground. When he dropped to the ground the heel of the sheriff’s boot came with the dog’s jaws!

Barnacle crouched down and began to masticate the heel. But the glare that he turned upward at the man, from his red-rimmed eyes, proclaimed the fact that he would “just as lives” chew on the sheriff’s anatomy.

The camp on the top of the knoll had been left in confusion. The girls were talking rather wildly – some praising Liz and others deploring the happening.

Mrs. Morse commanded silence. She walked over to where the maid-of-all-work stood before the cook-tent.

“What does this mean, Lizzie Bean?” she demanded.

“I tell you I ain’t workin’ for you no more,” cried Liz, wildly. “I’ve give up me job.”

“But you had no right to do what you have done.”

“I don’t care, I’d done more. I’d gone at that sheriff with my finger-nails if he’d come nearer. Don’t I hate him —just?”

“Why – why, Lizzie!” gasped the gentle Mrs. Morse.

Here Laura interfered. “I believe I know what is the matter with Lizzie, Mrs. Morse,” she said.

“Well!” snapped Lil, in the background. “Let’s hear it. The girl’s crazy. My mother would never have paid for such a creature to come here with us if she’d known.”

“Your ma needn’t give me a cent, Miss,” returned Liz, sullenly.

“What is the matter with her, Laura?” asked Mrs. Morse again.

“She has somebody hidden in that tent,” said Mother Wit, calmly. “Isn’t that the truth, Lizzie? Isn’t Mr. Halliday in there – Mr. Norman Halliday?”

“The bank robber!” shrieked Lil.

“Oh, oh!” gasped Nellie.

“Hurray for Liz!” exclaimed Bobby, but in a low tone.

“It cannot be?” queried Mrs. Morse.

“Yes he is. I got him here while youse folks was down talkin’ to that red-faced sheriff. He was good to me when I lived at that boardin’ house, in Albany, he was! I wouldn’t give him up to that sheriff.”

Mrs. Morse looked at Laura very gravely. “You have known about this for some time, Laura? You knew that the young man was on the island?”

“With Professor Dimp – yes,” said Mother Wit, bravely.

“Professor Dimp has his own actions to answer for,” said Jess’ mother, gravely. “But I am quite sure your mother would not approve of your trying to help such a character as this young man seems to be.”

“Wait a minute, Mrs. Morse,” cried Laura. “Here come Chet and the boys.”

“The boys!” chorused the other girls.

“What has your brother to do with this affair?” asked Mrs. Morse, wonderingly.

“I saw Chet wig-wagging a little while ago, and I answered and read his message. He is bringing over a gentleman from Albany – a lawyer – to see Professor Dimp and the young man who has been in hiding so long. I think something important is going to happen,” said Laura, complacently. “Do let the Barnacle keep the sheriff up in that tree for a little while longer.”

CHAPTER XXV
“QUITE ALL RIGHT”

One amazing thing was happening after another. The girls of Central High could scarcely keep up with the several happenings. On top of Laura’s statement the platform before the cook-tent heaved mightily, and a man’s head and shoulders appeared.

Lil shrieked again. Even Mrs. Morse stepped back in surprise. The young man continued to push his way out, and finally climbed to his feet.

It was the same young man who had appeared on the bank of Bang-up Creek and saved Short and Long from the farmer’s dog. His very good looking hunting suit was now sadly torn and wrinkled. He was without a hat. There was a scratch upon his face that had drawn blood, and he was altogether rather messy looking.

He bowed gravely to Mrs. Morse. “I see,” he said, “that this young lady,” and he looked at Laura, “knows who I am. And further introduction would be unnecessary.”

“Ye – yes?” said Mrs. Morse, rather doubtfully.

“I pray that you will not blame Lizzie Bean. She would sacrifice herself for my safety; but I could hardly allow her to do that, don’t you know? I had an idea that that sheriff would really not come to this camp, and I could get away again after dark.”

Lil had given over any intention of screaming again. She was examining the scratched face of the strange young man with growing approval.

“Isn’t he romantic looking?” she whispered to Nellie.

“Poor fellow,” sighed the doctor’s daughter. “He doesn’t look wicked, does he?”

“He’s a regular heart-breaker when he’s dolled up, I bet,” giggled Bobby.

“It’s too bad!” murmured the Lockwood twins, in unison.

Thus did the appearance of the young man, Mr. Norman Halliday, tell upon the covey of frightened girls. Mrs. Morse herself began to recover from her disturbance of mind. This was no criminal character, for sure!

Suddenly the sheriff in the tree set up a bellow: “That’s the feller I want! That’s him! Don’t you let him escape–”

“Why don’t you come down and take him?” demanded Bobby, wickedly.

But immediately the Barnacle began leaping under the tree and barking and Sheriff Larkin climbed higher.

“You see, the police want me,” explained the young man, simply.

“We – we should judge so,” gasped Mrs. Morse.

“But I really don’t want to be arrested. Especially by this sheriff. I do not want the bank I work for to be put to the expense of paying him a reward for my apprehension.”

This sounded rather odd – from a criminal!

“You see,” went on the young man, with a more cheerful smile, “I am going to return to Albany when my attorney lets me know that I may safely do so. Had I remained when I was first charged with the crime of forging names to coupons and bonds, and selling the same for my own benefit, I could not have disproved the accusation.”

“It had been arranged to make me a ‘scapegoat’ – to railroad me to jail, in fact. But I have one good friend, at least – my uncle, Professor Dimp. You all doubtless know him, and know what a really fine old fellow he is,” said the young man, heartily.

“He is paying my lawyer’s expenses, and he insisted, too, upon coming up here into the Big Woods and staying with me. That’s why I was really obliged to rob your larder one night. I dared not appear at any store to buy food, and I could not let the dear old man go hungry. I hope the money I left was sufficient to pay for the food?”

“Certainly – certainly,” murmured Mrs. Morse, while the girls listened in wide-eyed amazement.

“The Professor is just a brick,” continued Mr. Norman Halliday, “as of course you all know–”

“You bet we do!” burst out Bobby, her face aflame. “Three cheers for Old D–That is, for Professor Asa Dimp!”

“Thank you, Miss Hargrew,” said the dry voice of the absent-minded old professor. “I did not know I was so well appreciated by the girls of Central High.”

But Laura showed her appreciation in an entirely unlooked for way. As the professor walked into the open from the woods, she darted for him, seized him tightly in her arms, and planted a kiss first on one, and then on his other unshaven cheek.

“Bless my soul! bless my soul!” gasped Professor Dimp, who had probably not been kissed before in years.

“You’re a perfect old dear!” declared Laura, in a low voice. “And I am never going to be afraid of you again. Your nephew showed that he had a tender heart when he was kind to Lizzie Bean; and I believe he gets it honestly —from you! Dear Professor Dimp!”

“Ha!” said the old gentleman, drily, yet flushing a little, too, “I can see very clearly that I shall hereafter have very mediocre recitations from the girls of Central High. They will no longer fear me.”

At that moment the motorboat that had been skimming across from the main land, pushed her nose against the shore of the island. One of the first persons to land was a gentleman with a green bag in his hand who hurried up the hill to greet the professor and his nephew, the much disheveled Mr. Halliday.

“The best of news Mr. Halliday – and you, my dear Professor Dimp,” this gentleman said. “The evidence is concluded. The guilty director has been arrested and the reward for your capture, Mr. Halliday, has been withdrawn. I have come to take you back to Albany where your name will be completely cleared of the false accusation.”

“Hurrah!” shouted Bobby again, and waving her hand at the dog and the sheriff on the other side of the hill. “Come away, Barnacle; you may let the sheriff down out of the tree.”

Dear me! It took nearly all day to explain affairs, after all. The sheriff, and his bloodhounds, and his posse departed unnoticed by the rejoicing party in the camp of the Central High girls.

The girls and boys made a hero out of Professor Dimp. And he was not a bad sort after all – as they found out upon closer acquaintance.

“We shall not let Professor Dimp hide his light under a bushel,” cried Laura Belding, otherwise Mother Wit. “Whenever there is anything else exciting going on for the girls of Central High, he shall be in it.”

All the males of the party later piled into the Bonnie Lass to return to the boys’ camp. There the lawyer had left a team with which he was going to take Norman Halliday out of the Big Woods to the railway station.

But the professor promised to remain at least another week, as the guest of the boys. That week was the very jolliest week of all the vacation at Lake Dunkirk, both for the boys, and for the Girls of Central High.

THE END