CHAPTER 4 NO CAMPING ALLOWED

Breakfast the next morning was a trying ordeal for Penny. Over the coffee cups Mr. Parker apologized to Mrs. Deline for what he termed his daughter’s “inexcusable behavior.”

The widow responded graciously, quite in contrast to her attitude of the previous night. Without saying much, she conveyed the impression that Penny had been completely in the wrong, and was in fact, a spoiled child who must be humored.

The journey on to Sunset Beach was equally unpleasant. Mr. Parker and Mrs. Deline seemed so absorbed in animated conversation, that they scarcely spoke or noticed Penny. Wedged between the luggage and the camping equipment, she indulged in self pity.

“At least we’ll get rid of Mrs. Deline when we reach Sunset Beach,” she cheered herself.

Presently the car rounded a wide curve in the road, and Penny caught her first glimpse of the seashore. Big waves were rolling in, washing an endless stretch of white sand.

“Oh, isn’t it beautiful!” she exclaimed, brightening. “I wish we were camping right on the beach instead of in the State Forest.”

“I fear the authorities wouldn’t permit that,” Mr. Parker laughed. “By the way, Penny, is your heart really set on this camping trip?”

Penny gave him a quick look. “Yes, it is, Dad,” she said briefly. “Why do you ask?”

“Well, I was thinking that we’d be a lot more comfortable at one of the big hotels. We’d be right on the beach and—”

“Oh, I was just talking when I said I’d like to camp on the beach,” Penny cut in. “I’d like the State Forest much better.”

“Then we’ll go there just as we planned,” Mr. Parker said, sighing. “But you know I never was cut out for a rough and tumble life, Penny. I’m far from sure I’ll make a good camper.”

The car rolled on along the ocean road, presently entering the little village of Sunset Beach. Normally a tourist center, the town now was practically deserted, and the Parkers had chosen it because it was within easy driving distance of Riverview. Nearly all of the fine hotels along the water front were closed. However, the Crystal Inn remained in operation, and it was there that Mrs. Deline had engaged a suite.

The car swung into the driveway and halted in front of the hotel. An attendant did not come immediately so Mr. Parker himself unloaded the widow’s luggage. Mrs. Deline gave him a dazzling smile as she bade him goodbye.

“Oh, we’ll not say goodbye just yet,” Mr. Parker corrected. “Penny and I will camp only a short distance away. We’ll run down to the beach often.”

“Do,” urged Mrs. Deline. “I have no friends here and I’ll be happy to see you.”

Mr. Parker carried the widow’s luggage into the hotel. While he was absent, Penny moved up to the front seat. She tuned in a radio program, listening to it with growing impatience. Finally her father sauntered out of the hotel.

“I nearly gave you up,” Penny remarked pointedly.

Mr. Parker slid behind the steering wheel and started the car. When they were driving along the ocean front road he said quietly:

“Penny, I can’t imagine what has come over you lately. You’re not in the least like the little girl who was my pal and companion. Why have you been so unkind to Mrs. Deline?”

“I just don’t like her,” Penny said flatly. “Furthermore, I distrust her.”

“You’ve acted very stupid and silly.”

“I’m sorry if you’re ashamed of me,” Penny replied glaring at her own reflection in the car mirror. “At any rate, I saved the car for you.”

“That accusation was ridiculous, Penny. Mrs. Deline is a wealthy woman who could buy herself a dozen cars in ordinary times. She merely gave in to a sudden whim.”

“Just what do you know about Mrs. Deline, Dad?”

“Not a great deal,” Mr. Parker admitted. “I met her at the club. She served as a special War correspondent in China, I believe. She has traveled all over the world and speaks a half dozen languages.”

“I never heard of her until she came to Riverview,” Penny said with a sniff. “Nor did I ever see any of her writing in print. If you ask me, she’s a phony.”

“Let’s not discuss the subject further,” Mr. Parker replied, losing patience. “When you’re older, I hope you’ll learn to be more gracious and charitable.”

Penny subsided into hurt silence. In all her life she could recall only a few occasions when her father had spoken so sternly to her. Close to tears, she studied the tumbling surface of the ocean with concentrated interest.

In silence the Parkers drove through the village, stopping at a filling station to inquire the way to Rhett State Forest. Supplies were purchased at one of the stores, and by that time it was noon. At Mr. Parker’s suggestion they stopped at a roadside inn for lunch. After that they drove on a half mile beyond the outskirts of Sunset Beach, past a tall lighthouse to the end of the pavement.

“We follow a dirt road for a quarter of a mile to Bradley Knoll,” Mr. Parker said, consulting directions he had jotted down on an envelope.

“A mud road, you mean,” Penny corrected, peering ahead at the narrow, twisting highway. “It really rained here last night.”

The car had no chains. Not without misgiving, Mr. Parker drove off the pavement onto the slippery road. The car wallowed about and at times skidded dangerously.

“Once we reach the State park we’ll have gravel roads,” Penny said, studying a map.

“If we get there,” Mr. Parker corrected.

Barely had he spoken than the car went out of control. It took a long skid, turned crosswise in the road, and then the rear wheels slipped into a deep ditch. Opening the car door, Penny saw that the car was bogged down to the hub caps.

Mr. Parker tried without success to pull out of the ditch. Alighting, he inspected the rear wheels which had spun deeper and deeper into the mud.

“Not a chance to get out of here without help,” he said crossly. “I’ll have to find someone to give us a hand.”

Farther down the road stood a weatherbeaten farmhouse. Penny offered to go there to summon help, but her father insisted upon doing it himself. He presently returned with a farmer and a small tractor. After considerable difficulty the car was pulled out of the ditch.

“How much do I owe you?” Mr. Parker asked the man.

“Ten dollars.”

The amount seemed far too high for the service rendered, but Mr. Parker paid it without comment. His shoes were caked with mud, and so were the trouser legs of his suit. Only by an effort of will did he keep his temper under control.

“Figurin’ on camping in the Rhett Forest?” the farmer asked Mr. Parker.

“That’s right. Is it much farther?”

“Only a little piece down the road. You’ll strike gravel at the next corner. You can make it if you’re careful. I don’t calculate you’ll have much fun camping in the Park though.”

“Why not?” asked Penny.

“We’ve had a lot o’ rain lately. The mosquitoes are bitin’ something fierce. And the ground’s mighty damp.”

“We have a floor to our tent,” Penny said optimistically. “I think camping will be fun. I’ve always wanted to try it.”

The farmer started the tractor. “Then don’t let me discourage you,” he shrugged. “So long.”

Mr. Parker rejoined Penny in the car. “Why not call this whole thing off?” he suggested. “We could go to the hotel and—”

“No, Dad! You promised me!”

“All right, Penny, if that’s the way you feel, but I know we’re asking for punishment.”

By careful driving the Parkers reached the gravel road without mishap. At the entrance to the Rhett Park area they were stopped by a pleasant, middle-aged forest ranger who took down the license number of the car.

“Be careful about your camp fire,” he instructed. “Only last week several acres of timber were destroyed at Alton. We’re not certain whether it was started by a camper or was a case of sabotage. In any case, one can’t be too careful.”

“We will be,” promised Mr. Parker.

“Camp only in the designated sites,” the ranger added. “I’ll be around later on to see how you’re getting along.”

Once beyond the gateway arch, Penny’s sagging spirits began to revive. The road curled lazily between dense masses of timber fringed by artistic old-fashioned rail fences. Numerous signs pointed to trails that invited exploration.

“Oh, Dad, it’s really nice here!” she cried. “We’ll have a wonderful time!”

Presently the car came to an open space with picnic tables. There was a picturesque spot beside a rocky brook which looked just right for a camp site.

“Let’s pitch our tent here!” pleaded Penny. “You set it up while I cook supper.”

Mr. Parker unloaded the car and went to work with a will hammering the metal stakes of the umbrella tent. Penny busied herself sorting pots and pans and trying to get the gasoline stove started. Despite her best efforts she could not induce it to burn.

In the meantime, Mr. Parker was having his own set of troubles. Three of the tent stakes were missing. Twice he put up the umbrella framework, only to have the entire structure collapse upon his head.

“Penny, come here and help me!” he called. “I’ve had about enough of this!”

Penny ran to her father’s rescue, pulling the canvas from his head and shoulders. By working together they finally got the tent set up. Another half hour was required to put up the cots and make them.

“Well, that job is done,” Mr. Parker sighed, collapsing on one of the beds. “Such a life!”

“Dad, I hate to bother you,” Penny apologized, “but I can’t start the stove. Do you mind looking at it?”

Grumbling a bit, Mr. Parker went to tinker with the stove. Three-quarters of an hour slipped away before he succeeded in coaxing a bright flame.

“All this work has given me a big appetite for supper,” he announced. “What are we having, Penny?”

“Steaks.”

“Sounds fine.”

“I forgot the salt though,” Penny confessed, slapping the meat into a frying pan.

The burner was too hot. While Penny had her back turned and was opening a can of beans, the steaks began to scorch. Mr. Parker tried to rescue them. In his haste he seized the hot skillet handle and burned his hands.

“Oh, Dad, I’m so sorry!” Penny sympathized. “I guess the steaks are practically ruined too.”

“Anything else to eat?” the publisher asked, nursing his blistered hand.

“Beans.”

“Beans!” Mr. Parker repeated with bitter emphasis. “Oh, well—dish them up.”

Penny was serving the food on tin plates when a car drove up and stopped. A ranger climbed out and walked over to the tent.

“What’s the idea, camping here?” he demanded. “Can’t you read signs?”

“We didn’t see any sign,” said Penny.

The ranger pointed to one in plain sight tacked on the trunk of a tree. It read:

“Restricted Area. No Camping Permitted.”

“You can’t stay here,” the ranger added. “You’ll have to move on.”

Penny and her father gazed at each other in despair. After all the work they had done, it didn’t seem as though they could break camp.

“Any objections if we stay here until morning?” Mr. Parker requested. “We’ve had a pretty hard time of it getting established.”

The ranger looked sympathetic but unmoved.

“Sorry,” he said curtly. “Regulations are regulations. You may finish your supper if you like, then you must move on. The regular camp site is a quarter of a mile farther up the road.”