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Updated: May 20, 2025
"I wonder what the voices of nature are saying at the present moment?" mused Hippy. "If they feel anything like I do, their remarks are more forceful than elegant." "Even if you were to hear them you would be mo wiser," observed Emma. "Only persons with unusual minds can read the messages that nature conveys." Someone under the blanket roof giggled, and Hippy articulated "Ahem!"
"That is what makes their pidgin English so quaint," answered Miss Briggs. "Ping says the horses don't care for any more water," announced Nora, returning with two empty buckets. "Pass them down," directed Hippy. "We will fill everything in camp, including ourselves."
Lieutenant Wingate put out the fire and sat down to watch, rifle in hand. Grace got up an hour later and, peering from her tent, saw Hippy sitting with his back against a rock. At first she thought he was asleep; then, when she saw him take off his hat and smooth back his hair, she knew that she was mistaken.
"To Spring Brook. Wash, how far from here is the next camping place?" questioned Grace, turning to the colored boy. "Wall, Ah reckons it's 'bout er whoop an' er holler from heyeh." "So far as that?" chuckled Hippy Wingate. "It's terrible!
Then with his Cheshire cat grin he seized Miriam's hand and toddled beside her into the library. The others followed, laughing at the ridiculous spectacle he presented. "Both our fairy godmother and I are disgusted with you," taunted Nora as she directed a glance of withering scorn at Hippy, now calmly seated beside Miriam on the big leather davenport, the picture of triumph.
We shall be out of this in the morning, anyway. I have to leave you to-morrow, so take good care of the girls and don't let Henry eat the bull pup." "He had better not," growled Hippy. The two Overland men went to their lean-to laughing, Mrs.
"I tell him, however, that when we are his guests in the Hippy Mountains, he can give us three good meals a day, cooked by his own fair hands, but that is all," announced Grace. "Do I echo your sentiments, girls?" They said she did. That is, all except Emma Dean agreed with Grace Harlowe.
"That is what comes from listening to the voice of nature," chuckled Hippy. "Here are some of our provisions," called Grace, who had been clambering over the logs, peering under them and feeling about among the pine cones. She uncovered a dozen or so cans of food, all dented, some mashed out flat, and while she was doing this Elfreda discovered some badly battered mess kits.
Following the new foreman's departure the gifts for Overlanders and jacks were quickly distributed, and, half an hour later, on their way to their own camp, the Overland Riders stepped out into the sparkling night, where, as Hippy Wingate had said, every tree was a Christmas tree, dressed with snapping reflected lights from the moonbeams on the snowflakes.
Then you came back, just like the cat did in the old story." "Where did you get that piffle?" chortled Hippy when his laughter had subsided. "From a professor who visited our town last winter. He said that, by con-centrating, one could bring anything to pass that he wished provided he con-centrated intently enough and long enough.
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