Psuti, with two little hands upon the broadest point of the tall top’s circumference, skilfully set it revolving upon the stone; as before, it seemed to have no sense of the fitness of things; it toppled toward her, as nearly as its falling direction—a wide point of debate—could be determined, she having swiftly resumed her seat in the circle.
“Pshaw! it doesn’t know much: Morning-Glory will be the first Torch Bearer; she’s a Fire Maker already,” burst impetuously from one or two of the girls. “And she’s going to do some work among little girls when we go back to the city, form a Nest of Blue Birds, as it’s called, among the poor children of that big playground which we visited, show them how to dress their dolls and so forth,” suggested Sesooā, “make them happy once a week for three months; that’s part of the test for becoming a Torch Bearer.”
“I suppose you’ll draw that little deaf-and-dumb girl whose life you saved into the nest—eh?” Mŭnkwŏn turned inquiringly toward Morning-Glory. “Whew! I’ll never forget that day—the shock we all got!” The breast of Arline’s ceremonial dress, embroidered with her rainbow symbol, heaved; the many-colored honor-beads upon her neck shook. “Fancy! the poor child drowning, or next door to it, in two feet and a half of water!”
“Two feet and a half of water! Drowning! A deaf-and-dumb child!” Nobody had noticed the “shock” which Kenjo experienced as the Rainbow’s words fell upon his ear, reaching him where he squatted on the sands, just outside the circle of girls gathered round the fortune-telling top, now lying idle upon the flat stone.
“Is—is a Torch Bearer the highest rank among the Camp Fire Girls?” Kenjo went on to ask eagerly, thrusting the flame of his red head dangerously near to the Council Fire. “To be an Eagle Scout is the highest a fellow can go among the Boy Scouts—and mighty few ever get there! A Scout must have twenty-one merit badges for that! But we have an Eagle Scout in our camp,” proudly. “He’s a sort of Assistant Scoutmaster, directing the athletics. He saved a deaf-and-dumb child from drowning in shallow water this summer—dragged her out and brought her to, resuscitated her; a Camp Fire Girl helped him.”
“Helped him! He helped her, you mea-ean!” The excited challenge delivered in three girlish voices rose to a screaming trio. “Where did it happen? What’s his name?” followed in a minor key.
“Yes, where did it happen?” gasped the Blue Heron, Olive, bending excitedly forward from her place near the fire.
“In the city of Clevedon, I think. Stack comes from there or from some town near it; he was dressed for a big Boy Scout Rally at the Clevedon Armory and was taking a short cut across a public playground when he heard a lot of children yelling—girls shrieking——”
“We weren’t shrieking at all! There!” flung out Sesooā between her teeth. “If ‘Stack’ is the only name he’s got, I don’t think much of it.” The firefly in Sally’s eyes danced upon the twilight.
“That’s what we call him in camp; his name is Miles Stackpole.”