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Updated: June 20, 2025
Hippy's crying need was food, and that was what he proposed to get first, but Tom would not hear to either of them sitting down until the horses had been looked after and watered. While they were doing that, the forest woman made coffee and fried bacon, which was ready for Tom and Hippy upon their return.
The last good-byes were reserved for the four chums, who felt lumps rise in their throats in spite of their recently avowed declaration to be cheerful. Nora shoved a white box tied up with blue ribbon into Hippy's hand just as he was about to board the train. "It's walnut fudge," she said. "But it isn't all for you. Be generous, and let David and Reddy have some, too." "Good-bye. Good-bye.
Emma was dancing about in a high state of excitement. "Hippy's gone down! Hippy's gone down!" she cried. "Gone down where?" demanded Grace, appearing on the scene at that juncture. "He must have gone very suddenly, for I surely heard him yell less than five minutes ago," averred Elfreda. "Look, look!" urged Emma, pointing to Hippy's tent, only the top of which was visible above the ground.
"I'll not put me hands up for the likes of you!" she retorted, her eyes snapping, as she deliberately got down from her pony. "Don't do anything foolish," warned Grace Harlowe. Unheeding the warning, Nora stepped over and picked up Hippy's hat, eyed the hole in it, the color flaming higher and higher in her face.
But she did not appear till midnight, and then responded with but a sad "Well, sah!" to the cheerful "Well, Mrs. Johnson!" that greeted her. "All right, Mrs. Johnson?" Mrs. Johnson made a strange noise, half chuckle and half death-rattle, in her throat. "All wrong, sah. Hippy's off again; and I've been all over the city after him." "Then you can't go with us in the morning?" "How can I, sah?"
David is to be Hippy's best man and Tom Gray Reddy's, while Jessica is to be Nora's maid of honor and Nora Jessica's matron of honor. She's to be married first, you know. Mabel, Anne, Miriam Nesbit, Eleanor Savelli and I are to be the bridesmaids at both weddings," went on Grace. "We'll have a reunion of all our friends.
Long made up his bed on the cornfield side of the camp and, after listening to one of Hippy's war stories, rolled up in his blankets and went to sleep. Grace, from her tent, could faintly make out the form of the Mystery Man, and, sitting, chin in hand regarding him, she wondered, as she had done many times before, who and what the man was.
Without waiting for permission Hippy pranced ahead of her on his toes, swaying from side to side and scattering the flowers from his bouquet, his voice rising in a falsetto chorus of: "Singing merrily, merrily, merrily, Follow me, full of glee, Singing merrily." "He'll never grow old," said Anne, as she watched Hippy's ridiculous performance.
Have we already forgotten that dear, departed hall of youthful pleasures, cut down in the flower of its youth so tragically?" Hippy's voice rang out like an old-time orator's, and some one bid twenty-five cents. But the bidding ended there, and Farmer Benson got the package, which on being opened, was found to contain a beautiful little lacquer box. This was a lucky beginning.
Expecting this very move, Lieutenant Wingate had dropped down the instant he saw the man turning, and the bullet went over Hippy's head, and incidentally over the heads of the Overland Riders in the camp a few yards to the rear. Lieutenant Wingate was unarmed, his revolver being in its holster on his saddle, so all he could do was to duck.
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