Chapter XXII: An Exciting Morning

It was not an encouraging situation. Within a few hours the four girls were to enter upon the most momentous undertaking of their lives,—an undertaking that would require them to be in fit physical condition, with clear heads, alert and supple in limb. And here they sat in a blinding rainstorm with nothing more substantial than their blankets between them and the heavy downpour.

“There will be no game for you girls to-morrow,” groaned Margery Brown, dismally.

“If there is a game, we shall play,” answered Harriet.

“What shall we do?” cried Jane. “We’ll all catch cold!”

“When the rain stops we shall put the tent up again,” returned Harriet Burrell. “That question is easily answered, but answering is the easiest part of it. The worst feature of it is that all our clothes will be out of shape and unfit to wear in the morning.”

“We shall have to make the best of it,” said the guardian.

“We will iron them in the morning,” replied Harriet. “We must, for the sake of our friends, make a half-way decent appearance. You saw how neat and well groomed all the players looked to-day. With our dark clothes it will be even more difficult to make ourselves presentable.”

“I withh the boyth were here,” lisped Tommy.

“I don’t. We are perfectly able to take care of ourselves. What we must wish for is the rain to cease.”

No signs of its doing so were observable. They sat, dismal and forlorn, wrapped in their blankets, each girl sitting in a puddle of water, for there was no floor in their tent.

Harriet soon saw that remaining as they were might be attended with serious results. She urged the girls to get up and walk about, which suggestion the guardian seconded. Then for the next hour they walked back and forth, keeping well out in the open field, fearing that were they to take refuge under the trees they might be struck by lightning.

About three o’clock in the morning the rain suddenly stopped. Soon after that the clouds broke away and the stars came out. The faint light of the coming day enabled them to see with some distinctness.

“Now for the tent, girls,” cried Harriet. “I wish we had a fire or a lantern. But we shall have light from the skies soon. Help me spread the tent on the ground and straighten it out, Jane, dear.”

While they were doing this the other girls were placing their belongings on higher ground.

“Oh, joy!” shouted Hazel. “All our dresses were in the chest. Who put them there?”

“I did,” answered Tommy. “I have thenthe thometimeth.”

A weak cheer greeted this announcement. Their dresses were dry, after all. Much of their trouble being thus banished the girls’ spirits rose, and soon thereafter they were laughing and chattering, unmindful of their bedraggled and thoroughly uncomfortable condition.

Suddenly Jane McCarthy uttered a cry.

“The ropes are broken—broken right off near the stakes, I should judge,” she called excitedly.

“That is strange,” replied Harriet. “The ropes are too strong to break so easily. The stakes would have pulled up before the ropes would break. Let me see.”

Harriet took the end of a guy-rope that Jane extended toward her, and looked at it closely. She ran to where the tent had been pitched and began tugging at a stake, which came up after no little effort on her part. This stake she carried back to Jane and held it before her companion, a piece of the broken rope dangling from it.

“See, Jane?”

“Well, darlin’, didn’t I tell you? The rope broke off just as I said.”

“You are mistaken, Jane, dear.”

“Eh, what?” exclaimed Jane. “Then what did happen to it?”

“The rope didn’t break off, at least not wholly so. It has been cut nearly in two with a sharp knife. I presume we shall find the other ropes in a similar condition. Whoever did it must have known that a storm was coming and thought that the first good puff of wind would leave us without a roof over our heads. Now, what do you think of that, Jane McCarthy?”

“The miserable cowards!” raged Jane. “Miss Elting!”

The others of the party were quickly made acquainted with what Harriet had discovered. Then there followed an immediate examination of the other guy-ropes, all being found partly severed by a knife. The uneven, stringy ends showed where the break had come when the wind blew hard enough to part them.

This was a new element of discomfort and mystery.

“I can’t understand who would do such a thing,” pondered Harriet Burrell.

“The boys wouldn’t play that trick on us, would they?” questioned Margery.

“Indeed they would not. This is not fun; this is malice, nothing less,” declared Harriet. “I am afraid we have enemies here, girls, but whoever they are we are going to triumph over them to-morrow, even if we have to go to the courts soaked to the skin and out of condition as the result of our night’s experiences.”

The light was now strong enough to enable them to make out objects about them quite clearly. They examined the ground. They found the imprint of boots in the soft turf all around where the tent had stood, but whether these had been made by one of the boys or by their midnight visitor they were unable to say. They were strongly inclined to the opinion that it was the enemy who had put them in such a plight.

“I don’t think we shall put up the tent now,” said Miss Elting, after reflection. “It is now nearly daylight. The boys will be along soon. They will set the camp to rights. There go two of them now to put up the dressing tent. Whoo-e-e-e!”

Sam and Dill Dodd halted at the hail. They saw instantly that something was wrong at the Meadow-Brook camp and came over at a trot. The situation was explained in a few words. Sam started on a run for his own camp to inform George Baker, and in an almost incredibly short time George came in sight with Sam Crocker trailing along a few rods behind him.

The girls had never seen George in a rage before. But his rage took a different form from what they might have expected. His face was very pale and his voice was so calm as to be almost gentle. Yet there was a note of restraint in it, of enforced control, that told the girls he was laboring under great excitement.

“Sam, skate back and tell the fellows to get our tent in shape. Tell them the girls will be along in a few moments,” he ordered, and Sam went obediently.

“But——” protested Harriet.

“You are going to our camp to turn in, all of you. Miss Elting, you will see that they go to bed and get some rest, won’t you?”

“Yes; thank you very much.”

“Let me see. The grounds are wet this morning. I do not think the games will be called much before eleven o’clock. You may safely sleep until nine o’clock. That will give you two hours in which to get ready. If there is any change in the time I will have you called earlier or later as needed, so don’t worry one little bit. This ground is too wet for you to sleep on, that is why I am sending you to our camp.”

“What are you planning to do, put up our tent?” questioned Miss Elting.

“After the ground dries off, yes. Just now I am going to see Jack Herrington, then call on P. E. How do the girls seem to be feeling?” George lowered his voice so that only the guardian might hear.

“In excellent condition, I should say. You know a little wetting doesn’t disturb them very much. I hope they play the games to-day. The grounds will be wet and somehow I believe our girls will make a better showing on soft, soggy grounds than on a smooth, hard court.”

“I’ve been thinking of that myself,” answered George confidentially. “Well, so long for a few hours. I have business on hand this morning, being business manager of the Meadow-Brook team. Sounds important, doesn’t it? May not sound so important to-morrow.”

George started across the field. His chin was lowered almost to his chest and he was raging inwardly at the indignity put upon the Meadow-Brook Girls. He would see to it that nothing of the sort occurred again. He censured himself because he had not thrown a guard about the camp on the evening before the battle. It was too late now for regrets. The one great question now uppermost in the minds of a hundred or more persons besides himself was, who was going to win the doubles?

So far as George Baker was able to judge, the Scott Sisters were slated for this victory. Disbrow agreed with him, basing his judgment on what he had heard of the sisters and what he had seen of the Meadow-Brook Girls. Harriet and her companions, as the reader already knows, were confident of a great victory. The odds seemed to be heavily against them, however; hard luck certainly was on their side, as the incidents of the night just past plainly indicated.

Jack Herrington was very angry when he learned what had happened to the ambitious girls, but there was nothing he could do except promise to see to it that the guilty one would be punished, provided he were ever caught, which seemed doubtful. Mr. Disbrow shook his head sadly. He said the effects of that wetting might not show until the girls were on the court, but that they would surely suffer from it.

The tournament was not to be postponed. It was to be started at ten o’clock in the morning, even if the courts were not dry. The sky was still overcast and the sun had not yet come out, though the air was sultry and close.

George sent a messenger to the Tramp Boys to have the girls called at eight o’clock and to tell them the games would be called on time. The active young man visited the courts, there to stand stroking his chin as he looked over the battle ground reflectively, consulted the skies, decided in his own mind which would be the favorable end of the courts with reference to the sun in case his side won the choice of sides. He considered everything, showing that Captain George Baker was a long-headed young man well worthy to be the leader of the band of hardy lads whose commander he was.

While he was thus engaged, two young women clad in raincoats, their heads enveloped in the hoods of the coats, came out on the field. They appeared to be very much interested in the courts, which they tested by stepping on them, taking note of the slipperiness, the stickiness and other features of the courts, they shook their heads disapprovingly. George decided that they were players—players, too, who appeared to know their business. Once they had whispered together while looking at him. He knew they were speaking of him, which made the young man rather ill at ease. He watched them leave the field. Asking one of the men who had come to work on the courts who these young women were, Captain Baker learned that they were the Scott Sisters, which information did not tend to strengthen his hopes for his team.

There being nothing more to be done, George went back to his own camp, where he knew breakfast would be awaiting him. The other lads had put up the dressing tent and were now carrying in boards for a floor, the ground being too wet to be used as a floor.

It was nearly eight o’clock when the captain reached his camp. He found the girls up and dressed. They greeted him brightly, but he thought there was something forced in their gayety. The captain did not blame them for this. They were laboring under a great strain—in fact, the greatest they had ever experienced.

Before eating breakfast the team took a limbering-up exercise, consisting of forward and backward bends, skipping the rope, a rapid round with half-pound dumb bells, wrist exercises with light Indian clubs, and other exercises calculated to put in condition every muscle in their bodies. They went through their morning work without a hitch, finishing with flushed faces and sparkling eyes.

“Oh, it is good to be alive, even if one had to sit in a puddle of water most of the night,” declared Harriet, as they sat down to breakfast. “Eat sparingly, girls, and chew your food well. That was Mr. Disbrow’s advice. We are to have some dry biscuit to nibble if we feel hungry.”

Margery and Miss Elting had taken an earlier breakfast and hurried over to the Meadow-Brook camp to gather up the necessary articles for the battle. These were packed in a chest which the boys carried to the dressing tent, one of them remaining on guard over the stuff. George did not propose to have their mysterious enemy playing any more tricks.

At nine o’clock they started for the battle ground. The sun had come out broiling hot, the ground was steaming, the air full of humidity, a most depressing condition for those who were to participate in the great tennis match.

“I feel ath though I were going to a funeral,” declared Tommy dismally, as they plodded along over the wet turf.