The Rival Campers Ashore: or, The Mystery of the Mill

The boys drew a little nearer to Henry Burns, grinning broadly. Henry Burns, all unmindful of such concerted observation, continued to gaze in at the brilliantly lighted window.

The contents of the window-case were, indeed, such as one would hardly have supposed to be of interest to a youth of his age. The shop was one of Benton's largest dry-goods establishments, and the particular window was devoted wholly to an assortment of women's and misses' dresses. Several more or less life-like figures, arrayed in garments of the season, occupied prominent positions in the display.

Directly in line with Henry Burns's vision was one of these: the figure of a girl, dressed in a neat summer sailor suit, the yellow curls of the head surmounted with a dashing sailor hat; its waxen cheeks tinted a most decided pink; its blue, staring eyes apparently returning the gaze of Henry Burns, unabashed at his admiration.

There was no mistaking Henry Burns's desire to form a closer acquaintance with the wax figure, for presently he approached closer to the window and stood studying it with undisguised interest.

"Seems to like the looks of her, don't he?" chuckled Young Joe, nudging Bob White and doubling up with laughter. "Wish Jack Harvey was here now to see him. Come on, let's wake him up."

Approaching softly, the three neared the unsuspecting admirer of the yellow-haired, waxen miss.

Still lost in contemplation of her, Henry Burns was suddenly greeted by a series of yells and hoots of derision that would have done credit to a wild west performance. Then roars of laughter followed, as he turned and faced them.

It was not in the nature of Henry Burns to be startled or easily disconcerted, however, and, although taken by surprise, he turned slowly and faced the three.

"Hello," he said coolly.

"Hello, Henry," snickered Young Joe. "Say, what's her name?"

"Yes, who is she?" echoed the other two; whereupon all three went off again into mingled roars of laughter and yells of delight.

"Dunno," responded Henry Burns. "I'll go in and ask, though, if you want."

"Isn't she sweet?" said Bob White. "How long have you known her?"

"Oh, not so long as you've known Kitty Clark," replied Henry Burns.

"Ow! wow!" squealed Young Joe; an exclamation which began in great satisfaction and terminated in a howl, as he felt the force of a punch from Bob's vigorous right arm.

It wasn't so easy getting the best of Henry Burns, in spite of his disadvantage.

"Seen Jack?" he inquired.

"No – yes, there he comes now," answered George Warren, pointing back in the direction whence they had come.

Henry Burns left them abruptly, and they went along, calling back at him mockingly. But he paid little heed. Anyone familiar with the youth would have known that he had something particular in mind; and in such case, Henry Burns was not to be turned aside by bantering.

Some five minutes later, Henry Burns and Harvey stood looking in at the very same shop window, whither Henry Burns had conducted his companion.

"Say – er – Jack, what do you think of that?" inquired Henry Burns, pointing in at the wax figure.

Harvey looked at his companion and grinned.

"Think of what!" he exclaimed. "The curls?"

"No, hang the curls!" said Henry Burns. "The dress."

Harvey stared at him, open-mouthed.

"Oh, yes," he said at length, as though endeavouring to grasp the meaning of so extraordinary an inquiry; "looks like Bob White's sister. What of it?"

"Oh, nothing," replied Henry Burns, "only you and I are going to buy it."

Harvey's grin expanded.

"Sure," he responded. "You'd look nice in it, Henry. Only you need the curls, too – "

"And give it to Bess Thornton," continued Henry Burns, unmindful of his comrade's remark.

Harvey whistled.

"Well, I'll be skinned if I don't think you're in earnest!" he exclaimed.

"I am," said Henry Burns. "It's eight dollars and eighty-seven cents – marked down – they always are, ain't they? Half of that's four dollars and something or other apiece. Come in with me?"

"Not much!" cried Harvey, turning red at the very thought of it. "I'll pay half, though, if you'll get somebody to buy it. It's worth more than that to me, to win that race. Well, if you don't beat all thinking up queer things. What put it into your head?"

"Why, she spoiled hers, showing us how to come through that sluice, didn't she?" said Henry Burns.

"Guess not," replied Harvey. "Spoiled long before that, I reckon. They're poor enough. Get somebody to buy the dress, and I'll pay for half, all right."

"I'm going to buy it now," said Henry Burns, coolly; "that is, if you've got any money. I've got five dollars."

Harvey produced his pocket-book and the necessary bills.

"Gee!" he exclaimed. "I wouldn't do it for a hundred dollars. Go on; I'll watch you through the window."

In no wise daunted, Henry Burns, whose critical study of the model and the garment through the window had satisfied him that the figure was of Bess Thornton's size, boldly entered the store, calmly made the purchase, ignored the inquiry of the clerk if he was thinking of getting married, and returned with it to his companion.

"Say," exclaimed Harvey, "I don't wonder you learned to sail the Viking quick as you did. You've got the nerve."

"Now we've got to take it up there," said Henry Burns.

Harvey stopped short.

"Take that dress and give it to a girl?" he asked.

"No, we won't give it to her," replied his comrade. "She might not like to have us – and I wouldn't know what to say, would you?"

"Would I!" exclaimed Harvey.

"We'll just leave it and cut and run," explained Henry Burns. "Then she won't know who sent it, and she'll have to keep it. See?"

"It's most nine o'clock," remarked Harvey.

"I'm going," said Henry Burns.

"Oh, well, I'll stand by," said Harvey. "Let's be off, then. It's a good two miles and a half, nearer three."