Campfire Girls in the Allegheny Mountains | Page 7

families of the striking miners. We know that move of yours is inspired
by the rankest hypocrisy, that you have no genuine desire to do
anything for our starving families. This move of yours, we know, was
planned by that villainous father of yours to cloud the big issue of our
fight. If you do carry out your plans, some of you are liable to get hurt,
and it need not surprise anybody if some of you never get back to
Westmoreland alive.
Go Slow! Be Careful! Look Out!"
Marion was not easily panic-stricken, but it is of the nature of a truism
to say that this letter applied the severest test to her nerves. That the
writer was in deep earnest she had no reason to doubt. She had read of
so many crimes preceded by threatening letters of this sort that the
suggestion did not come to her to regard this one lightly. Although
there was no common basis for comparing the handwriting of the two
missives, one being lettered in Roman capitals and the other in ordinary
script, nevertheless she quickly dismissed the first suspicion that letter
No. 1 was written by Clifford Long or some other Scout of Spring Lake
academy. Both ended with the words "Look Out." Plainly this was a
result of carelessness on the part of the writer. Evidently he had
planned to cause her to believe that the two letters were written by
different persons, for he had taken the pains of differentiating the
superscriptions on the envelopes as well as the contents within.
But now the question was, What should she do? It was no more than
fair and just for her to inform the girls what they might expect if they
attempted to carry out their original plan, but what method should she
pursue to convey to them this information? She might go at the matter
bluntly and create something of a panic; then again she might so handle
it that the best possible result could be obtained in a quiet and orderly
manner.
Marion felt in this crisis that a great responsibility rested on her to

handle the problem with all the skill and intelligence at her command.
She longed for the counsel of an older and more experienced head, but
there was none present, except Miss Ladd, the Guardian of the Fire, to
whom she might go with her story. The latter, though she came well
within the requirements of the national board to fill the position which
she held, was nevertheless a young woman in the sensitive sense of the
phrase and could hardly be expected to give the best of executive
advice under the circumstances. Marion realized that it was her duty to
exhibit to Miss Ladd the letters she had received, but if she did this at
once, the act would amount to turning the whole matter over to her and
relinquishing the initiative herself, she reasoned.
Marion was naturally aggressive, and she was not favorably impressed
with the idea of leaving the affair in the hands of another unless that
person were peculiarly fitted to handle it. As she sat studying over the
problem she suddenly became conscious of the presence of another
person close beside her, and looking up she saw Helen Nash, with an
expression of startled intelligence in her eyes. Apparently her attention
had been attracted by the crude drawing of a skull and cross-bones at
the close of the letter lying open in her lap.
"I beg your pardon, Marion," said Helen with an evident effort at
self-control. "I didn't mean to intrude. I hope you'll forgive me for
something quite unintentional."
"Certainly, Helen," Marion replied generously, "and since a chance
look has informed you of the nature of these letters and I want to talk
this affair over with somebody, I think I may as well talk it over with
you. Let's go down to the other end of the car where we aren't likely to
be disturbed."
Accordingly they moved up to the front of the car where they took
possession of two chairs and soon were so deeply absorbed in the
problem at hand as to excite the wonder and curiosity of the other
Camp Fire Girls.
Marion handed the two anonymous letters to her friend without
introductory remark, and the latter read them. As Marion watched the

expression on the reader's face, she was forced to admit to herself that
right then, under those seemingly impersonal circumstances, Helen's
habitual strangeness of manner was more pronounced than she had ever
before known it to be. This girl of impenetrable secrecy read the letters,
seemingly with an abstraction amounting almost to inattention, while
physically she appeared to shrink from something that to her alone was
visible and real.
As she