The Camp Fire Girls at School by Hildegard G. Frey

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Just about the time the play was given there was being held in the
school an exhibition of water-color paintings. A famous and very
valuable collection had been loaned by a friend of the school for the
benefit of the students of drawing. The paintings were on display in one
of the girls' club rooms on the fourth floor of the building. Hinpoha
took great pleasure in examining them and spent a long time over them
every day after school was closed. On the day of the play she went up as
usual to the club room for an hour before going home. Reluctantly she
tore herself away when she realized that the afternoon was passing. As
she returned to the cloakroom where her wraps were she was surprised to
find Emily Meeks there. Emily started guiltily when Hinpoha entered and
made a desperate effort to finish wrapping up something she had in her
hand. But her nervousness got into her fingers and made them tremble so
that the object she held fell to the floor. As it fell the wrapper came
open and Hinpoha could see what it was. It was one of the water colors
of the exhibition collection, one of the smallest and most exquisite
ones. Hinpoha gasped with astonishment when she caught Emily in the act
of stealing it. Emily Meeks was the last person in the world Hinpoha
would ever have accused of stealing anything.

Emily turned white and red by turns and leaned against the wall
trembling. "Yes, I stole it," she said in a kind of desperation.

Something in her voice took the scorn out of Hinpoha's face. She looked
at her curiously. "Why did you try to steal, Emily?" she asked gently.

Emily burst into tears and sank to her knees. "You wouldn't understand,"
she sobbed.

"Maybe I would," said Hinpoha softly, "try it and see."

Haltingly Emily told her tale. In a moment's folly she had promised to
buy a set of books from an agent and had signed a paper pledging herself
to pay for it within three months. The price was five dollars. At the
time she thought she could save enough out of her meager wages to pay
it, but found that she could not. The time was up several months ago and
the agent was threatening her with a lawsuit if she did not pay up this
month. Fearing that the people with whom she lived would be angry if
they heard of the affair and would turn her out of her home into the
streets--for to her a lawsuit was something vague and terrible and she
thought she would have to go to jail when it was found she could not
pay--she grew desperate, and being alone in the room with the paintings
for an instant she had seized the opportunity and carried one out under
her middy blouse. She intended to sell it and pay for the books.

Hinpoha's eyes filled with tears at Emily's distress. She was very
tender hearted and was easily touched by other people's troubles. "If I
lent you five dollars to pay for the books, would you take it?" she
asked.

Emily started up like a condemned prisoner who is pardoned on the way to
execution. "I'll pay it back," she cried, "if I have to go out scrubbing
to earn the money. And you won't say anything about the picture," she
said, clasping her hands beseechingly, "if I put it back where I got
it?"

"No," said Hinpoha, with all the conviction of her loyal young nature,
"I give you my word of honor that I will never say anything about it."

"Oh, you're an angel straight from heaven," exclaimed Emily.

"First time I've heard of a red-headed angel," laughed Hinpoha.

Emily stooped to pick up the painting and restore it to its place, when
she caught her breath in dismay. She had dropped a tear on the picture
and made a light spot on the dark brown trunk of a tree. It was
conspicuously noticeable, and would be sure to call forth the strictest
inquiry. Emily covered her face with her hands. "It's my punishment,"
she groaned, "for trying to steal. Now I've ruined the honor of the
school. We promised to send those pictures back unharmed if Mr. White
would let us have them." Her dismay was intense.

Hinpoha examined the spot carefully. "Do you know," she said, "I believe
I could fill in that place with dark color so it would never be noticed?
The bark of the tree has a rough appearance and the slight unevenness
around the edges of the spot will never be noticed. Don't worry, all
will yet be well." If Hinpoha would have let her, Emily would have gone
down on her knees to her. "Come, we must make haste," said Hinpoha. "You
go right home and I will take the picture into our club room and fix it
up and then slip upstairs with it and nobody will ever be any the wiser.
It's a good thing there's nobody up there now."

Emily took her departure, vowing undying gratitude to Hinpoha, and
Hinpoha took her paints from her desk and went into her own club room,
which was on the third floor, and with infinite pains matched the shade
of the tree trunk and repaired the damage. Her efforts were crowned with
better success even than she had hoped for, and with thankfulness in her
heart at the talent which could thus be turned to account to help a
friend out of trouble, she surveyed the little painting, looking just as
it did when loaned to the school. She carried it carefully upstairs, but
at the door of the exhibition room she paused in dismay. A whole group
of teachers and their friends were looking at the paintings and it was
impossible to put the one back without being noticed. Irresolutely she
turned away and retraced her steps to the third floor, intending to wait
in her club room until the coast was clear. But alas! In coming out
Hinpoha had left the door open. The club rooms were generally kept
locked. While she was going upstairs a number of students coming out
from late practice in the gymnasium spied the open door and went in to
look around. It was impossible for Hinpoha to go in there with that
picture in her hand. The only thing to do if she did not wish to get
into trouble, was to get rid of it immediately. Delay was getting
dangerous. She was standing near the back entrance of the stage when she
was looking for a place to hide the picture. Beside the stage entrance
there was a little room containing all the lighting switches for the
stage, various battery boxes and other electrical equipment, together
with a motley collection of stage properties. Quick as a flash Hinpoha
opened the door of this room, darted in and hid the picture in a roll of
cheesecloth. When she came out one of the teachers was standing directly
before the door, pointing out to a friend the construction of the stage.

"Have we a new electrician?" he inquired genially, as he saw her coming
out of the electric room. Hinpoha laughed at his pleasantry, but she was
flushed and uncomfortable from the excitement of the last moment.
Hinpoha was a poor dissembler. She went upstairs until the art room was
empty of visitors and then returned swiftly to the electric room for the
picture. She slipped it under her middy blouse, where it was safe from
detection, and sped upstairs with it. As she crossed the hall to the
stairs she met the same teacher the second time. "Well, you must be an
electrician," he said; "that's twice you've rushed out of there in such
a businesslike manner," Hinpoha laughed, but flushed painfully. It
seemed to her that his eyes could look right through her middy and see
the picture underneath. This time the coast was clear in the room where
the pictures were and she deposited the adventurous water color safely.
She heaved a great sigh of relief when she realized that the danger was
over and she had nothing more to conceal. She trudged home through the
snow light-heartedly, with a warm feeling that she had been the means of
saving a friend from disgrace.

Sahwah, who was in the play and had a right to go up on the stage, which
was all ready set for the first scene, ran in to see how things looked
late in the afternoon. The school was practically empty. All the rest of
the cast had gone home to get some sleep to fit them for the ordeal of
the coming performance, and the teachers who had been looking at the
paintings had also left. The rest of the building was in darkness, as
twilight had already fallen. One set of lights was burning on the stage.
Sahwah had no special business on the stage, she was simply curious to
see what it looked like. Sahwah never stopped to analyze her motives for
doing things. She paused to admire the statue of Joan of Arc, standing
in all the majesty of its nine-foot height. This was the first chance
she had had to examine it leisurely. In the rehearsal the night before
she had merely seen it in a general way as she whisked off and on the
stage in her part.

The construction of the thing fascinated her, and she opened the door in
the skirt to satisfy her curiosity about the inner workings of the
miraculous halo. She saw how the thing was done and then became
interested in the inside of the statue itself. There was plenty of room
in it to conceal a person. Just for the fun of the thing Sahwah got
inside and drew the door shut after her, trying to imagine herself a
fugitive hiding in there. There were no openings in the skirt part, but
up above the waist line there were various holes to admit air. "It's no
fun hiding in a statue if you can't see what's going on outside,"
thought Sahwah, and so she stood up straight, as in this position her
eyes would come on a level with one of the holes. She could see out
without being seen herself, just as if she were looking through the face
piece of a suit of armor. The fun she got out of this sport, however,
soon changed to dismay when she tried to get down again. It had taken
some squeezing to get her head into the upper space, and now she found
that she was wedged securely in. She could not move her head one
particle. What was worse, a quantity of cotton wool, which had been put
inside the upper part of the body for some reason or other, was
dislodged by her squeezing in and pressed against her mouth, forming an
effective silencer. Thus, while she could see out over the stage, she
could not call out for help. Her hands were pinioned down at her sides,
and by standing up she had brought her knees into a narrow place so that
they were wedged together and she could not attract attention by
kicking. Here was a pretty state of affairs. The benign Maid of Orleans
had Sahwah in as merciless a grip as that with which the famous Iron
Maiden of medieval times crushed out the lives of its victims.

Sahwah knew that her failure to come from school would call out a
search, but who would ever look for her in the statue on the stage? Her
only hope was to wait until the play was in progress and the door was
opened to conceal the child. Then another thought startled her into a
perspiration. She was in the opening scene of the play. If she was not
there, the play could not commence. They would spend the evening
searching for her and the statue would not be opened. What would they do
about the play? The house was sold out and the people would come to see
the performance and there would be none. All on account of her stupidity
in wedging herself inside of the statue. Sahwah called herself severe
names as she languished in her prison. Fortunately there were enough
holes in the thing to supply plenty of ventilation, otherwise it might
have gone hard with her. The cramped position became exceedingly
tiresome. She tried, by forcing her weight against the one side or the
other, to throw the statue over, thinking that it would attract
attention in this way and some one would be likely to open it, but the
heavy wooden base to which it was fastened held it secure. Sahwah was
caught like a rat in a trap. The minutes passed like hours. Sounds died
away in the building, as the last of the lingerers on the downstairs
floor took themselves off through the front entrance. She could hear the
slam of the heavy door and then a shout as one boy hailed another in
greeting. Then silence over everything.

A quarter, or maybe a half, hour dragged by on leaden feet. Suddenly,
without noise or warning, two figures appeared on the stage, coming on
through the back entrance. Sahwah's heart beat joyfully. Here was some
one to look over the scenery again and if she could only attract their
attention they would liberate her. She made a desperate effort and
wrenched her mouth open to call, only to get it full of fuzzy cotton
wool that nearly choked her. There was no hope then, but that they would
open the door of the statue and find her accidentally. She could hear
the sound of talking in low voices. The boys were on the other side of
the statue, where she could not see them.

"Let it down easy," she heard one of them say.

"Better get around on the other side," said a second voice.

The boy thus spoken to moved around until he was directly before the
opening in front of Sahwah's eyes. With a start she recognized Joe
Lanning. What business had Joe Lanning on the stage at this time? He was
not in the play and he did not belong to the Thessalonian Society. There
was only one explanation--Joe was up to some mischief again. She had not
the slightest doubt that the other voice belonged to Abraham Goldstein,
and thus indeed it proved, for a moment later he moved around so as to
come into range of her vision. The two withdrew a few paces and looked
at the statue, holding a hasty colloquy in inaudible tones, and then
Joe, mounting a chair, laid hold of the Maid just above the waist line,
while Abraham seized the wooden base. Sahwah felt her head going down
and her feet going up. The boys were carrying the statue off the stage
and out through the back entrance, over the little bridge at the back of
the stage and into the hall. It was the queerest ride Sahwah had ever
taken.

The boys paused before the elevator, which seemed to be standing ready
with the door open. "Will she go in?" asked Abraham.

"I'm afraid not," answered Joe. "Well have to carry her downstairs."
Sahwah shuddered. Would she go down head first or feet first? They
carried her head first and she was dizzy with the rush of blood to her
head before the two long flights were accomplished. At the foot of the
last flight they laid the statue down. The hall was in total darkness.

"What are you doing?" asked the voice of Joe. Abraham was apparently
producing something from somewhere. In a minute Joe was laughing. "Good
stunt," he said approvingly. "Where did you get them?"

"Swiped them out of Room 22, where all the stuff for the play is." Joe
flashed a small pocket electric light and by its glimmer Sahwah could
see him adjusting a false beard--the one that was to be worn by the
villain in the play. Abraham was apparently disguising himself in a
similar fashion. This accomplished they picked up the statue again and
carried it down the half flight of stairs to the back entrance of the
school. For some mysterious reason this door was open. Just outside
stood an automobile truck. At the back of the school lay the wide
athletic field, extending for several acres. The nearest street was all
of four blocks away. In the darkness it was impossible to see across
this stretch of space and distinguish the actions of the two
conspirators in the event people should be passing along this street.
Even if the truck itself were seen that would cause no comment, for
deliveries were constantly being made at the rear entrance of the
school.

The statue was lifted into the truck, covered with a piece of canvas,
and Joe and Abraham sprang to the driver's seat and started the machine.
Sahwah very nearly suffocated under that canvas. Fortunately the ride
was a short one. In about seven or eight minutes she felt the bump as
they turned into a driveway, and then the truck came to a stop. The boys
jumped down from the seat, opened a door which slid back with a scraping
noise like a barn door and then lifted the statue from the truck and
carried it into a building. From the light of their pocket flashes
Sahwah could make out that she was in a barn, which was evidently
unused. It was entirely empty. Setting the statue in a corner, the boys
went out, closing the door after them. Sahwah was left in total
darkness, and in a ten times worse position than she had been in before.
On the stage at school there was some hope of the statue's being opened
eventually, but here she could remain for weeks before being discovered.
Sahwah began to wonder just how long she could hold out before she
starved. She was hungry already.

She closed her eyes with weariness from her strained position, and it is
possible that she dozed off for a few moments. In fact, that was what
she did do. She dreamed that she was at the circus and all the wild
animals had broken loose and were running about the audience. She could
hear the roar of the lions and the screeching of the tigers. She woke up
with a start and thought for a moment that her dream was true. The barn
was full of wild animals which were roaring and chasing each other
around. Then her senses cleared and she recognized the heavy bark of a
large dog and the startled mi-ou of a cat. The dog was chasing the cat
around the barn. She felt the slight thud as the cat leaped up and found
refuge on top of the statue. She could hear it spitting at the dog and
knew that its back was arched in an attitude of defiance. The dog barked
furiously down below. Then, overcome by rage, he made a wild jump for
the cat and lunged his heavy body against the side of the statue. It
toppled over against the corner. For an instant Sahwah thought she was
going to be killed. But the corner of the barn saved the statue from
falling over altogether. It simply leaned back at a slight angle. But
there was something different in her position now. At first she did not
know what it was. Before this her feet were standing squarely on the
wooden base of the statue, but now they were slipping around and seemed
to be dangling. Then she realized what had happened. The shock of the
dog's onslaught had knocked the statue clear off the base, and had also
contrived to loosen her knees a little. To her joy she found that she
could move her feet--could walk. For all the statue was immense, it was
light, and wedged into it as she was she balanced the upper part of it
perfectly. She moved out from the corner.

The dog was still barking furiously and circling around the barn after
the cat. Then the cat found a paneless window by which she had entered
and disappeared into the night. The dog, who had also entered by that
window when chasing the cat, had been helped on the outside by a box
which stood under the sill, but there was no such aid on the inside and
he did not attempt to make the jump from the floor, but stood barking
until the place shook. Just then a voice was heard on the outside.
"Lion, Lion," it called, "where are you?" Lion barked in answer. "Come
out of that barn," commanded the voice of a small boy. Lion answered
again in the only way he knew how. "Wait a minute, Lion, I'm coming,"
said the small boy. Sahwah heard some one fumbling at the door and then
it was drawn open. The light from a street lamp streamed in. It fell
directly on the statue as Sahwah took another step forward. The boy saw
the apparition and fled in terror, followed by the dog, leaving the door
wide open. Sahwah hastened to the door. Here she encountered a
difficulty. The statue was nine feet high and the door was only about
eight. Naturally the statue could not bend. It had been carried in in a
horizontal position. Sahwah reflected a moment. Her powers of
observation were remarkably good and she could sense things that went on
around her without having to see them. She had noticed that when the
boys carried the statue into the barn they had had to climb up into the
doorway. The inclined entrance approach had undoubtedly rotted away. She
figured that this step up had been a foot at least. Her ingenious mind
told her that by standing close to the edge of the doorway and jumping
down she would come clear of the doorway. She put this theory to trial
immediately. The scheme worked. She landed on her feet on the
snow-covered ground, with the top of the statue free in the air.

As fast as she could she made her way up the driveway. Her hands were
still pinioned at her sides. As she passed the house in front of the
barn she could see by the street light that it was empty. A grand scheme
it would have been indeed, if it had worked, hiding the statue in the
unused barn where it would not have been discovered for weeks, or
possibly months. Of course, Sahwah readily admitted, Joe did not know
that she was in the statue; his object had merely been to spoil the
play. And a very effective method he had taken, too, for the play
without the statue of Joan of Arc would have been nothing.

Sahwah stood still on the street and tried to get her bearings. She was
in an unfamiliar neighborhood. She walked up the street. Coming toward
her was a man. Sahwah breathed a sigh of relief. Without a doubt he
would see the trouble she was in and free her. Now Sahwah did not know
it, but in the scramble with the dog the button had been pushed which
worked the halo. The neighborhood she was in was largely inhabited by
foreigners, and the man coming toward her was a Hungarian who had not
been long in this country. Taking his way homeward with never a thought
in his mind but his dinner, he suddenly looked up to see the gigantic
figure of a woman bearing down on him, brandishing a gleaming sword and
with a dim halo playing around her head. For an instant he stood rooted
to the spot, and then with a wild yell he ran across the street, darted
between two houses and disappeared over the back fence. Then began a
series of encounters which threw Sahwah into hysterics twenty years
later when she happened to remember them. Intent only on her own
liberation she was at the time unconscious of the terrifying figure she
presented, and hastened along at the top of her speed. Everywhere the
people fled before her in the extremity of terror. On all sides she
could hear shrieks of "War!" "War!" "It is a sign of war!"

In one street through which she passed lived a simple Slovak priest. He
was sorely torn over the sad conflict raging in Europe and was undecided
whether he should preach a sermon advocating peace at all costs or
preparation for fighting. He debated the question back and forth in his
mind, and, unable to come to any decision in the narrow confines of his
little house, walked up and down on the cold porch seeking for light in
the matter. "Oh, for a sign from heaven," he sighed, "such as came to
the saints of old to solve their troublesome questions!" Scarcely had
the wish passed through his mind when a vision appeared. Down the dark
street came rushing the heroic image of Joan of Arc, with sword
uplifted, her head shining with the refulgence of the halo. At his gate
she paused and stood a long time looking at him. Sahwah thought that he
would come down and help her out. Instead he fell on his knees on the
porch and bowed his head, crying out something in a foreign tongue.
Seeing that expectation of help from that quarter was useless, Sahwah
ran on and turned a nearby corner. When the priest lifted his head again
the vision was gone. "It is to be war, then," he muttered. "I have a
divine command to bid my people take up arms in battle." This was the
origin of the military demonstration which took place in the Slovak
settlement the following Sunday, which ended in such serious rioting.

Sahwah, running onward, suddenly found herself in the very middle of the
road where two carlines crossed each other. This was a very congested
corner and a policeman was stationed there to direct the traffic. This
policeman, however, on this cold February day, found Mike McCarty's
saloon on the corner a much pleasanter place than the middle of the
road, and paid one visit after another, while the traffic directed
itself. This last time he had stayed inside much longer than he had
intended to, having become involved in an argument with the proprietor
of the place, and coming to himself with a guilty start he hurried out
to resume his duties. On the sidewalk he stood as if paralyzed. In the
middle of the road, in his place, stood an enormously tall woman,
directing the traffic with a gleaming sword. "Mother av Hiven," he
muttered superstitiously, "it's one of the saints come down to look
after the job I jumped, and waiting to strike me dead when I come back."
He turned on his heel and fled up the street without once looking over
his shoulder.

And thus Sahwah went from place to place, vainly looking for some one
who would pull her out of the statue, and leaving everywhere she went a
trail of superstitious terror, such as had never been known in the
annals of the city. For a week the papers were full of the mysterious
appearance of the armed woman, which was taken as a presumptive augury
of war. Many affirmed that she had stopped them on the street and
commanded them in tones of thunder to take up arms to save the country
from destruction, and promising to lead them to victory when the time
for battle came. Many of the foreigners believed to their dying day that
they had seen a vision from heaven. Sahwah at last got her bearings and
found that she was not a great distance from the school, so she took her
way thither where she might encounter some one who was connected with
the play and knew of the existence of the statue, a secret which was
being closely guarded from the public, that the effect might be greater.

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