But, however fascinating the subject might be, the girls had something to think of besides their Old Maid of the Mountains. For this was Friday and the boys were expected the following afternoon!
“It seems an age since we’ve seen them,” said Amy, plaintively. “I hope they’ll come early.”
It was not until they were building a campfire later on that the girls noticed any decided change in the weather. And even when they did, they at first attached no special importance to it.
But when the wind, which had begun as a soft sighing in the trees, waxed so vicious that the flames from the fire began to reach out hungrily for the surrounding trees, the girls began seriously to worry.
“Looks like a big gale,” said the Little Captain, soberly. “Better check the flames, girls. Don’t want to start a forest fire.”
And so, for the first night since they had made their camp, they were forced to go without their campfire. They stood somberly watching the last stubborn flames flicker, licking up in sudden yellow darts, then dying down morosely.
“It’s a shame,” said Grace. “Talk about Hamlet with Hamlet left out. That’s what a camp is without a campfire.”
“Humph,” said Mollie, putting back a strand of hair that the wind had whipped about her face, “shouldn’t wonder if we’d be lucky to have even our tent left to us by morning. Just listen to that wind!”
“If it only doesn’t rain, too,” said Amy, sharing the general disquiet.
“Wouldn’t mind the rain half as much as the wind,” remarked the Little Captain, as she started on an inspection of the tent to make sure it was as securely fastened as it was possible for it to be.