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here, so I ll double your salaries.
Oh, well, said Rudy, in that case the strike is settled. He and Mike
dropped down to their hands and knees and continued scrubbing.
Chip was dumbfounded. Boy, is Miller ever stupid! he whispered. He doesn t
get a salary!
Pierre shook his head resignedly. The problem isn t Miller.
* * *
Visiting day dawned dark and threatening. The air was still and muggy, and
clouds hung low over the lake.
Frank knocked on the camp office door.
Come in, said Mr. Warden.
Uh sir, began the head counsellor, I hate to say this, but it looks like
rain. I guess we d better cancel the outdoor buffet and serve lunch in the
mess hall.
Nonsense, my boy, said Arthur Warden jovially. I ve seen a hundred mornings
like this at Algonkian. Since the days of my grandfather, it hasn t rained
once for an Algonkian parents day. It s just the mist off the lake. It ll
clear up.
But sir protested Frank, who had heard a rumble of thunder in the distance.
Now, now, do as I say, reproached Mr. Warden. Set up for the buffet.
Yes, sir, murmured Frank. Shaking his head, he left the office. It s still
on, he told his waiting crew.
Is he nuts? exploded Chip. We re going to drown (hose parents!
It isn t going to rain, insisted Frank sarcastically. Elias wouldn t stand
for it.
Oh, no, lamented Ralph Deacon. In the middle of a thunderstorm we re going
to have a picnic. And all because it s not allowed to rain on visiting day.
Elias s law.
Liberation day, declared Rudy, animated as usual by the thought of leaving
Algonkian Island. He was stuffing his things into his duffle bag. I hope my
folks are the first to arrive. That way we can be the first to leave.
Should I be packing too? asked Mike.
Everyone who is going home today should be packing, said Rudy.
Mike strummed on his guitar, which had just been returned to him that morning.
Good as new, he commented. It was nice of them to get it fixed, wasn t it,
Rudy?
They re all heart, said Rudy sarcastically. Remember, if you had smashed up
the cabin you d have had to fix your own guitar.
Mike took out his suitcase and began neatly folding T-shirts.
Adam Willis walked in and stared at Rudy and Mike in surprise. Hey, why are
you packing? You guys haven t been kicked out, have you?
No such luck, said Rudy.
Adam laughed.
We re hoping our parents will take us home, explained Mike.
Adam looked genuinely sorry. Gee, that s too bad.
No, it isn t, said Rudy. It s good. Very good.
Adam laughed again. Well, I ll say this for you, Miller. You re a terrible
camper, but you re the best camp director we ever had.
Rudy stopped his packing and looked at the boy intently for a moment. Even
better than old Elias?
Heck, said Adam, grinning, that was before my time. He sobered. You know,
it s going to be pretty dull here without you guys.
Rudy pointed to the suitcase under Adam s bed. Pack, he suggested.
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Oh, not me. I kind of like it here.
Rudy shook his head. And you seem so sensible.
Another thing about your leaving, Adam said, playing his last trump card,
is that it ll make Harold Greene so happy.
Rudy froze. It almost makes me want to stay. Almost. He rummaged in his
suitcase and came out with a marking pen and a piece of paper. Then, in a
flowing script which showed that he was as skilled at calligraphy as he was at
baseball, he wrote:
Betwixt these sheets sleepeth ye biggest twit in Ontario.
Eyeing it with evident though unsmiling pleasure, he affixed it with a bandaid
to Harold Greene s pillow.
* * *
The launch bringing the first group of parents arrived shortly before eleven.
By noon all the parents, brothers and sisters were on the island enjoying a
reunion with the campers.
Eight-year-old Jeffrey Miller was looking distastefully around the compound.
What a stupid place! he announced loudly. Mom, why did you send Rudy to
such a stupid place?
Chip, who had been chatting with Rudy s father, turned abruptly and stared at
Jeffrey, marvelling at his resemblance to Rudy, not only in looks but in
attitude.
I taught him everything he knows, said Rudy proudly.
I noticed, muttered Chip, moving off.
Hey, Rudy, piped Jeffrey, How come all the counsellors look alike?
They re cloned, explained Rudy. He pointed at Frank. From him.
A smiling Mike Webster walked over with his mother, father and younger sister
in tow. Mom, Dad, Vicky I want you to meet my friend Rudy Miller.
Rudy solemnly shook hands all around and introduced his own parents and
Jeffrey.
Vicky turned large worshipful eyes on Rudy. Is it really true that you re the
best baseball player in the world?
Rudy glared at Mike. What kind of letters have you been writing?
Mike shrugged. I couldn t write about what a wonderful time I was having, so
I wrote all about you.
Speaking of letters, remarked Rudy s mother, you wrote us an identical
letter every time.
Not exactly, said Rudy calmly. The number of days until visiting day varied
with each one.
Mike leaned over to Rudy. Have you asked them to take you home yet? he
whispered.
Not yet, said Rudy. I m waiting until after lunch. Once they ve tasted the
food here they ll have a better understanding of why I want to leave.
Look, announced Jeffrey loudly, here come some more of those clone guys!
In a group, Frank, Ralph, Jack, Leo, Pierre and Dave walked over and
introduced themselves to Rudy s parents,
I sure wanted to meet you folks, said Ralph.
Me too! echoed the others fervently.
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