CHAPTER XXIV

THE LONELY CAMPER

T HE WEST was yellow. High on the moun-tain where a mad little waterfall sprayed

the bushes of laurel and rhododendron with quick-silver, the afterglow of the sunset on the tumblingwater made a streak of saffron. The wings of ahoming eagle were golden-black against the sky.Over there above the cornfields to the west therewas a cliff and a black and bushy ravine overwhich soared a buzzard or two. Presently whenthe moon rose its splendid alchemy would turnthe black to glowing silver.

A Kentucky brook chuckled boisterously bythe hay-camp, tumbling headlong over mossylogs and stones and a tangled lacery of drenchedferns.

Philip laid aside a bow and arrow upon whichhe had been busily working since supper andsummoned Dick Whittington. Beyond, throughoak and poplar, glowed the camp fire of his lady.

"Likely we'll tramp about a bit, Richard, ifyou're willing," said he. "Somehow, we're in-fernally restless to-night and just why our ladyhas seen fit to pile that abominable silver-rod insuch a place of honor by her tent, we can't for

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the life of us see. It's nothing like so pretty asthe goldenrod. By and by, Whittington," Philipfelt for his pipe and filled it, "we'll have ourwildwood bow and arrows done and we fancysomehow that our gypsy's wonderful black eyesare going to shine a bit over that. Why? Lord,Dick, you do ask foolish questions! Our beauti-ful lady's an archer and a capital one too, saysJohnny-even if she does like beastly silver-rod."

Somewhat out of sorts the Duke of Connecti-cut set off abruptly through the trees with thedog at his heels.

Having climbed over log and boulder to a roadwhich cleft the mountain, he kept on to the north,descending again presently to the level of thecamp, .smoking abstractedly and whistling nowand then for Richard Whittington, who wasprone to ramble. Philip was debating whetheror not he had better turn back, for the moonwas already edging the black ravine with fire,when a camp fire and the silhouette of a lonelycamper loomed to the west among the trees.Philip puffed forth a prodigious cloud of smokeand seated himself on a tree stump.

"My! My!" said he easily. "Must be ourinvalid and his rumpus machine. Whittington,we're just in the mood to-night, you and I, towander over there and tell him that he's not get-

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ting half so much over on us as he thinks he is.I've a mind to send you forward with my card."

Philip's eyes narrowed and he laughed softly.Tearing a sheet of paper from a notebook hetook from his pocket, he scribbled upon it thefollowing astonishing message:

"The Duke of Connecticut desires an audience.Do not kick the courier!"

Accustomed by now to carry birch-bark mes-sages to Diane, Richard Whittington waggledin perfect understanding and trotted off obe-diently toward the fire with Philip close at hisheels.

Conceivably astonished, the camper presentlypicked up the paper which Mr. Whittingtondropped at his feet, and read it. As Philipstepped lazily from the trees he turned.

It was Baron Tregar. Both men stared."The Duke of Connecticut!" at length rum-

bled the Baron with perfect gravity. "I amoverwhelmed."

Philip, much the more astonished of the two,laughed and bowed.

"Excellency," said he formally, "I am indeedastonished."

"Pray be seated!" invited the Baron, his eyesmore friendly than those of his guest. "I, too,have taken to the highway, Poynter, on yondermotorcycle and I have lost my way." He sniffed

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in disgust. "I am dining," he added dryly, "ifone may dignify the damnable proceeding by thatname, on potatoes which I do not in the leastknow how to bake without reducing them tocinders. I bought them a while back at a deso-late, God-forsaken farmhouse. Heaven deliverme from camping "

With which pious ejaculation the Baron in-spected his smudged and blistered fingers andread again the entertaining message from theDuke of Connecticut.

"Why take to the highway," begged Philipguilelessly, "when the task is so unpleasant ?"

"Ah!" rumbled the Baron, more sombre now,"there is a man with a music-machine-"

"There is!" said Philip fervently.The Baron looked hard at His Highness, the

Duke of Connecticut. The latter produced hiscigarette case and opening it politely for theservice of his chief, smiled with good humor.

" There is," said he coolly, " a man with a music-machine, a mysterious malady, a stained skin anda volume of Herodotus! Excellency knows the-er- romantic ensemble?"

Excellency not only knew him, but for daysnow, taking up the trail at a certain canal, hehad traveled hard over roads strangely litteredwith hay and food and linen collars - to find thatromantic ensemble. He added with grim humor

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that he fancied the Duke of Connecticut knewhim too. The Duke dryly admitted that thismight be so. His memory, though convenientlyporous at times, was for the most part excellent.

"What is he doing?" asked the Baron withan ominous glint of his fine eyes.

"Excellency," said Philip, staring hard at theend of his cigarette, "by every subtle device athis command, he is making graceful love to MissWestfall, who is sufficiently wholesome andhappy and absorbed in her gypsy life not to knowit-yet!"

The Baron's explosive "Ah! " was a compoundof wrath and outraged astonishment. Philip felthis attitude toward his chief undergoing a subtlerevolution.

"His discretion," added Philip warmly, "hasdeparted to that forgotten limbo which hasclaimed his beard."

The Baron was staring very hard at the campfire.

"So," said he at last,--"it is for this thatI have been-" he searched for an expressiveAmericanism, and shrugging, invented one,"thunder-cracking along the highway in search ofthe man Themar saw by the fire of Miss West-fall. 'It is incredible-it can not be!' said I,as I blistered about, searching here, searchingthere, losing my way and thunder-cracking about

188 Diane of the Green Van

in dead of night - all to pick up the trail of agreen and white van and a music-machine! 'Itis unbelievable-it is a monstrous mistake onthe part of ThemarI' But, Poynter, this lovemaking, in the circumstances, passes all belief "The Baron added that twice within the week hehad passed the hay-camp but that by some un-lucky fatality he had always contrived to miss themusic-machine.

"Days back," rumbled the Baron thought-fully, "I assigned to Themar the task of dis-covering the identity of the man who-er--ac-quired a certain roadster of mine and who, Ifelt fairly certain, would not lose track of MissWestfall but Themar, Poynter, came togrief-"

"Yes?" said Philip coolly. "You interest meexceedingly."

"He made his way back to me after manyweeks of illness," said the Baron slowly, "witha curious tale of a terrible thrashing, of a bargeand mules, of rough men who kicked him aboutand consigned him to a city jail under the mali-cious charge of a mule-driver who swore that heloved not black-and-tans-"

"Lord!" said Philip politely; " that was tough,wasn't it?"

"Just what, Poynter," begged the Baron, "isa black-and-tan? "

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Mr. Poynter fancied he had heard the termbefore. It might have reference to the color ofa man's skin and hair.

An uncomfortable silence fell over the Baron'scamp. The Baron himself was the first tobreak it.

" Poynter," said he bluntly, " the circumstancesof our separation at Sherrill's have engendered,with reason, a slight constraint. There was anight when you grievously misjudged me -"

"I am willing," admitted Philip politely, "tohear why I should alter my views."

"Mon Dieu, Poynter! " boomed the Baron inexasperation, "you are maddening. When youare politest, I fume and strike fire---herewithin!"

"Mental arson!" shrugged the Duke of Con-necticut, relighting his cigarette with a blazingtwig. "For that singular crime, Excellency, mydeepest apologies."

The Baron stared, frowned, and laughed. Onemay know very little of one's secretary, after all.

"You are a curious young man!" said he.The Duke of Connecticut admitted that this

might be so. Hay, therapeutically, had effectedan astonishing revolution in a nature disposedcongenitally to peace and trustfulness. Localapplications of hay had made him exceedinglysuspicious and hostile. So much so indeed that

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for days now he had slept by day, to the totalwreck of his aesthetic reputation, and watched bynight, convinced that Miss Westfall's camp wasprone to strange and dangerous visitors. Excel-lency no doubt remembered the knife and thebullet.

The Baron sighed."Poynter," he said simply, "to a man of my

nature and diplomatic position, a habit of can-dor is difficult. I wonder, however, if you wouldaccept my word of honor as a gentleman that Iknow as little of this treacherous bullet as you;that for all I am bound to secrecy, my sincerestdesire is to protect Miss Westfall from thepeculiar consequences of this damnable muddle,to clear up the mystery of the bullet, and formore selfish reasons to protect her from the ro-mantic folly of the man with the music-machine!"

Philip, his frank, fine face alive with honestrelief, held out his hand.

"Excellency," said he warmly, "one maylearn more of his chief over a camp fire, it seems,than in months of service. Our paths lie par-allel." There was a subtle compact in the hand-shake.

"'What," questioned, the Baron presently,"think you, are my fine gentleman's plans,Poynter ?"

Philip reddened.

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"Excellency," he admitted, "I have definiteinformation of his plans which I did not seek."

"And the source?""Miss Westfall's servant."" Ah! ""There are certain atmospheric conditions,"

regretted Philip, "intensely bad for hay-camps,wherefore I found myself obliged to seek anoccasional understudy who would not only blazethe trail for me but do faithful sentry duty in myabsence. And Johnny, Excellency, whom Ipledged to this secret service, uncomfortably in-sists upon reporting to me much unnecessarydetail. He has developed a most unreasoningdislike for music-machines and musical gypsies."

"There appears to be a general prejudiceagainst them," admitted the Baron grimly.

"A while back, then," resumed Philip,"Johnny chanced upon the information that inJanuary Miss Westfall will be a guest of AnnSherrill's at Palm Beach. So will our minstrel-still incognito--"

"Excellent!" rumbled the Baron with relish."Excellent. If all this be true," he added, mud-dling an Americanism, "we have then, of thehorse another color!"

"Later," said Philip, "when Miss Westfallreturns to her house on wheels, I imagine he too

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will take to the road again-and resume hischarming erotics."

"That," said the Baron with decision, "ismost undesirable."

"I agree with you!" said Philip feelingly."I too have promised to be a guest at Miss

Sherrill's f&te de nuit!" purred the Baronsuavely. "And you, Poynter?"

"Unfortunately Miss Sherrill knows abso-lutely nothing of my whereabouts."

"Sherrill days ago entrusted me with a cordialinvitation for you. He was unaware of our dis-agreement and expected you to accompany me.As my official secretary, Poynter, for, let us saythe month of January, it is possible for me tocommand your attendance at Palm Beach."

"Excellency," said Philip slowly, "singularas it may seem in my present free lance state,I am greatly desirous of hearing such a com-mand."

"Poynter," boomed the Baron formally, "inJanuary I shall be overweighted with diplomaticduties at Palm Beach. I regret exceedingly thatI am forced to command your attendance. Thisfrivoling about must cease." He shook suddenlywith silent laughter. "Doubtless," said he, meet-ing Philip's amused glance with level sig-nificance, "doubtless, Poynter, we can-"

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"Yes," said Philip with much satisfaction, "Ithink we can."

They fell to chatting in lower voices as the firedied down.

"Meanwhile," shrugged the disgusted Barona little later, "I shall abandon that accursedmusic-machine to its fate, and rest. God knows Iam but an indifferent nomad and need it sorely.Night and day have I thunder-cracked the high-ways, losing my way and my temper until I loathecamps and motor machines and dust and windand baked potatoes. I sincerely hope, Poynter,that you can find me the road to an inn and a bed,a bath and some iced mint-to-night."

Philip could and did. Presently standing byhis abominated motorcycle on a lonely moonlitroad, the Baron adjusted his leather cap andstroked his beard.

" Do you know, Poynter," said he slowly, " thisis a most mysterious motorcycle. It was cratedto me from an unknown village in Pennsylvaniaby the hand of God knows whom!"

"Excellency," said Phiilp politely as he cor-dially shook hands with his chief, " The world, Ifind, is full of mystery."

Rumbling the Baron mounted and rode away.With a slight smile, Philip watched him thunder-cracking disgustedly along the dusty road backto civilization.