The Girl Scouts at Singing Sands

Twilight was creeping up Old Baldy Mountain as the dusty station wagon turned in at the private road leading to Pine Cone Girl Scout Camp.

In the front seat beside the driver, Miss Louise Ward, troop leader, twisted sideways to smile at the six girls who rode directly behind. All were attired in the neat, green uniform of the organization, but each member of Beaver Patrol, it seemed, wore her dark green beret at a different angle.

“We’ll soon be there now, girls,” the troop leader remarked. “Pine Cone is lovely. We should have a grand vacation.”

“I suppose it’s too late for a swim this afternoon,” remarked Judy Grant. She was one of the newest members of the patrol, a pleasant, dark-haired girl with saucy brown eyes and a ready wit.

“I’m afraid that by the time we’re snug down in our tents, it will be supper time,” the teacher replied, looking at her wrist watch. “Besides, we’re all rather tired after driving from Fairfield.”

“I’ll be ready for chow whenever it comes,” declared plump, good-natured Ardeth Padgett. “This invigorating pine air has given me a tremendous appetite.”

“Given it to you?” teased Beverly Chester. “I’d say you always had it!”

The remark was made and accepted in fun. Nevertheless, Beverly had a quick tongue which occasionally annoyed even her best friends. At one time, the dark-haired eighth grader had been leader of the patrol. However, during the previous winter, an unfortunate skiing incident had caused her to become conscious of her personality handicap, and she had insisted upon turning the post over to Kathleen Atwell.

Kathleen was considered one of the most level-headed girls in the organization. A natural leader, she always was thoughtful of others and had a way of getting things done with a minimum of fuss.

The other patrol members were Betty Bache, who wore her sandy hair in a short boyish bob, and Virginia Cunningham, an excellent athlete. Judy had nicknamed the three girls the “A-B-C’s” because of their last names--Atwell--Bache--Cunningham.

All the girls lived in the little city of Fairfield, some distance from Old Baldy Mountain. Throughout Spring, they had worked very hard to save enough money for an outing at the official Girl Scout Camp on Morning Glory Lake. Now, as the station wagon turned into the private road, they felt that they were indeed at the threshold of a wonderful adventure.

“Our arrival here is somewhat different from the one last winter when we trudged into Maple Leaf Lodge,” Virginia Cunningham commented, grinning at the recollection. “Remember?”

“Can one ever forget?” chuckled Judy. Contentedly, she drew a deep breath of the pine laden mountain air. “No one to meet us ... a dreadful snow storm ... the lodge closed ... and that horrible caretaker!”

“A Scout camp is different, I promise you,” Miss Ward assured the girls. “Everything is carefully planned. Nothing ever is left to chance. We should be there any minute now.”

Eagerly, the girls leaned forward in their seats, striving for the first glimpse of the clear blue lake which they knew would soon be visible through the tall, stately pines. On either side of the curving road, they saw rustic signs pointing out interesting trails.

“There it is!” suddenly cried Betty Bache.

To the right, the girls caught a flash of blue water. A moment later, as the station wagon rounded another curve, they saw the camp itself, a cluster of tents, with main lodge and dining hall.

The station wagon pulled up at an office near the entrance gate. Everyone scrambled out, unkinking cramped legs. As the girls helped the driver unload dunnage, Miss Ward went inside to register the patrol. She was gone a long while. When finally she rejoined the group, it was evident by the expression of her face that something had gone wrong.

“Girls, I hate to tell you this--” she began apologetically.

“Don’t say we aren’t to stay!” exclaimed Beverly Chester. “That would be the last straw!”

“We’re staying,” the teacher replied. “However, there’s been a mix-up on reservations. Another patrol, which wasn’t expected until next week, arrived ahead of time.”

“Then there’s no place for us?” Kathleen asked.

“Miss Lubell, the camp director, is extremely upset about it. One tent, which sleeps four, is available. If we can make out with that for tonight, more satisfactory arrangements probably can be completed by tomorrow.”

“There are seven of us,” Beverly pointed out.

“The more the merrier!” declared Judy cheerfully. “I don’t mind being crowded for a night or two. For that matter, it’s warm enough to sleep out under the trees. We’ll get along fine.”

“Of course,” added Kathleen heartily, “Scouts aren’t softies.”

“I knew you’d feel that way about it,” Miss Ward said, pleased by the willingness of the girls to accept inconvenience. “Miss Lubell is taking me in with her, so that will make only six for the tent.”

After registration had been completed, the girls were shown to their temporary quarters. They stowed their dunnage, spread their blankets and changed into informal camp clothes. Carefully reading the rules posted on a bulletin board, they learned that they would have only a half hour until the evening meal would be served.

“Let’s see the beach at least,” Virginia proposed. “We have a few minutes free time.”

A walk led down a gentle slope to Morning Glory Lake, a deep bowl of deep blue, edged with a ruffle of green forest. The beach had been cleared of stones and sticks, extending for a long distance. There was a roped off area for safe swimming, as well as a dock to which were tied a sailboat and two rowboats.

Judy bent down to test the water with her finger. “Cold,” she reported with a laugh. “It’s just as well, I guess, because otherwise, I’d be tempted to leap in, clothes and all!”

The girls of Beaver Patrol met the waterfront director, their unit leader and several counselors. Members of other patrols and troops came by to chat and to provide scraps of information relative to camp routine.

Several of the Beaver Patrol girls were inspecting the outdoor ovens when the unit leader approached the group.

“I’m looking for Judy Grant,” she said.

“Here I am,” Judy said, separating herself from the other girls. She could not guess why she had been singled out for attention.

“I have a telegram for you. It came only a moment ago from the village.”

“A telegram?” Judy repeated. She was startled, and stood staring at the yellow envelope which the unit leader offered.

A half dozen fears assailed her. Her father or mother might have been taken unexpectedly ill! Perhaps her brother Ted had suffered an accident! At the very least, something must have gone wrong at home, and now it might be necessary for her to return to Fairfield before the vacation really started.

“Well, Judy, why don’t you open it?” Virginia demanded. “Don’t look so scared.”

“This is the first telegram I ever received,” Judy replied, a bit shakily.