Kitabı oku: «The Camp Fire Girls at the End of the Trail», sayfa 4
Then she slid her arm into her aunt’s.
“Don’t be cross, Tante; you look dreadfully severe,” she murmured, rubbing her cheek against Mrs. Burton’s shoulder in a funny, boyish way she had had ever since she was a tiny girl. “I know we are late, but Ralph and I have had an adventure since the others left. We did not intend to be so long in returning.”
CHAPTER VIII
Possibilities
“It really was exciting for a few moments, Billy. I do wish you had been with us; you would have known better what to do and say to the men!” Peggy Webster exclaimed.
Sitting bolt upright, Billy Webster was actually looking animated – his eyes and color bright with a peculiar transparency.
“It may be exciting for them before the matter is settled,” he replied. “Funny for you and Marshall to have run into a place of that character, when I thought we were living out in the wilderness. Please tell me exactly what happened, Peg?”
Peggy chanced to be sitting alone beside her brother about five minutes after her return to camp, Ralph Marshall not yet having come back from his errand. Mrs. Webster and Vera had both departed to help with dinner, suggesting that Peggy remain and rest after her long ride, as they would attend to her share of the work.
Peggy sat with her shoulders hunched up and, leaning forward, talked quickly.
“Odd, wasn’t it? Ralph and I had dropped behind the others and were talking. We had ridden away from the neighborhood of the canyons through the pine woods. Then, quite suddenly, we came upon a group of tents. You see we had gotten off the road and in some places had gone single file in between the trees.”
“I don’t wonder they were surprised at your turning up,” Billy commented.
“Surprised!” Peggy’s tone was reflective. “I think that is putting the case pretty mildly, Billy. The men were extremely angry at our riding calmly into what they doubtless believed their secret hiding place. Their tents were in a little hollow, with hills and trees around them. The men were sitting before the fire smoking, when I came upon them. As I chanced to be in front, one of them jumped up, said something ugly, and then grabbed my bridle.”
Billy Webster frowned. “Were you frightened, Peggy?”
The girl had dropped back on the ground and was now lying with her hands clasped under her head.
“No, I don’t think so; I was too amazed. Besides, Ralph Marshall rode up almost at once and explained that we had lost our way. The trouble now is, I am so curious. The men were very rough and were undoubtedly in hiding or they would never have behaved so strangely. Yet surely we are past the days in the West when stage coaches and trains used to be held up, aren’t we? Besides, these men had women and children with them.”
Some one was at this instant coming toward them and Billy glanced around. It was odd how much animation, even determination, had lately come into his ordinarily listless face and manner.
“I’ll ride over tomorrow and find out who the men are and why they are hiding so near here,” he announced as calmly as if such an action had been a daily proceeding on his part. “Marshall, you’ll tell me how to get there?” he added, for Ralph, during the moment, had joined them.
He now gazed down with unconscious condescension at the younger boy.
“Oh, I don’t think this group of fellows exactly in your line of business, Billy. If I had not said I would not, I should like to report their hiding place to the nearest sheriff. But, as long as your sister was with me, we simply had to slide out of an uncomfortable situation as easily as we could. I must say she did not mind so much as I did.”
Ralph now looked upon Peggy with an expression no girl or woman could fail to enjoy. It was veiled, of course, and only revealed a reasonable degree of admiration, yet there was nothing excessive and certainly nothing sentimental in it. For Ralph had the wisdom which belongs to the people who know how to make themselves agreeable. He understood something of the temperament of the person he was trying to win. From the first he had known that he must appear to be simple and genuine with Peggy Webster in order to cultivate her intimate friendship and affection.
However, Ralph was sincere. He had admired the calm manner in which Peggy had accepted a disagreeable situation. The type of girl, with whom he usually preferred spending his time, would probably have been both frightened and cross, and would doubtless have blamed him for getting her into an awkward position.
But Peggy had been perfectly reasonable. Indeed, it never seemed to have occurred to her to pretend that she was not equally responsible for their straying off from the others, because she had wished it as much as he had. But, then, Peggy Webster apparently never pretended anything! She was too straightforward to be considered attractive by the men who wish for greater subtleties in their girl friends, as Ralph believed he did.
Nevertheless, it was agreeable to ride quietly back to camp, discussing their recent experience as one would have discussed it with another fellow, simply from the standpoint of curiosity.
The men they had come upon so unexpectedly had looked like an ugly group. However, they had realized that their encounter with them had been an accident, and they had not been particularly rude to Peggy. It would be difficult for any one to be, Ralph decided, as he sat down beside her.
Peggy had gotten halfway up and her dark hair was tumbled about her flushed face. She had not thought to go away and dress as the other girls had, although her costume was dusty from her ride. She had not even a proper share of vanity and self-consciousness.
Nevertheless, Peggy was genuinely pleased at Ralph’s coming directly to her and Billy and taking his place beside them without stopping to talk with any one else.
In the last few days she had found herself liking Ralph very much. In a way this was odd, for she had known him for some time without caring much about him in one way or the other. However, then Ralph had never paid her any particular attention; only recently had he seemed to like being with her more than with any of the other girls. Peggy honestly thought the other Camp Fire girls far more attractive than she could ever be.
Then Ralph did not seem to her nothing but a society fellow, although this was what Bettina Graham insisted. At least he played a good game of tennis, for Peggy had been over to his hotel on two mornings to play with him.
“If we dance this evening, won’t you save most of your dances for me?” Ralph leaned over to murmur in a low voice, so that their other companion could not hear.
And Billy did not overhear, although he arose at this moment and stood staring with a queer, understanding look in his blue eyes at his sister and her friend. “I suppose it won’t hurt Peg a great deal to wake up,” he whispered to himself. “Anyhow, it would do no good for me to interfere.”
But Ralph this time had made a mistake, for Peggy’s dark eyes were gazing at him humorously.
“Don’t be absurd, Ralph,” she returned as good-naturedly and in as matter-of-fact a tone as if she had been talking to one of her brothers. “You know perfectly that I don’t dance very well; certainly not half so well as Bettina, and as you never ask me to dance with you more than once on most evenings, I don’t understand your sudden change of heart. Really you don’t have to be good to me on account of our adventure, because I enjoyed it. Suppose you get Sally or Gerry to amuse you now. I must help a little with dinner.”
Then Peggy and Billy walked off together leaving Ralph to pull himself up and, feeling a little aggrieved, to follow Peggy’s advice.
The Camp Fire table was made of long pine planks set on four logs sawed smooth and to a proper height.
The somewhat informal table was covered with a beautiful damask cloth which the Camp Fire guardian had brought West with her for just such festival occasions. In the center and filled with wild flowers was the great bowl of Indian pottery which she had purchased from old Nampu in her hut near the Painted Desert.
Although it was not yet dark a big camp fire was burning, made bright with pine cones and branches of pine. In the sombre old trees surrounding the open space were a dozen or more golden lanterns. Before dinner could be finished the early darkness would have descended, so the lanterns were merely a preparation for this event.
The girls kept rushing from the kitchen tent and the camp fire with great platters of corn and of freshly baked corn bread and roasted potatoes. At one end of the table was a baked ham and at the other a big dish of broiled chicken. The ham had been secured from the hotel, but if Marie Pepin had not yet learned to enjoy a camping existence, she was true to her French blood and was a wonderful outdoor cook. Marie alone could broil chicken in a perfect fashion above an open camp fire.
Everybody was by this time more than ready for dinner yet they were kept waiting for Dan Webster’s return.
Shortly after his return from the ride Dan had disappeared, saying that he would be back in a short time. At least he had made this statement to Mrs. Burton, for no one else had discussed his intentions with him. And she it was who kept urging that they wait dinner a moment or so longer.
This was most unlike the ordinarily impatient Mrs. Burton; moreover it was a Sunrise Camp Fire rule that meals should wait on no one. However, this rule was not intended as a disagreeable one to punish the offender, but only to protect the guiltless. For, if one were unavoidably late, it was a simple enough matter to find oneself something to eat, and far more comfortable than the sensation of having kept everyone else waiting.
However, just as dinner was served without him Dan Webster drove into camp and the mystery was explained. Seated beside him was the girl who had been an unexpected visitor a few mornings before.
She was using a crutch and Dan had to help her across to a seat beside Mrs. Burton and then took his place on her other side.
Marta Clark was wearing a little grey-green dress, evidently her best, although it was both shabby and old-fashioned. In it she looked tiny and pale; nevertheless, both Mrs. Burton and Dan felt the girl’s charm.
Her eyes seemed to have lights behind them as they shone so oddly, and her lips were a deep red.
“It is awfully good of you to have me here,” she whispered quietly to Mrs. Burton. “You see, I have been living in a tent with my brother for a whole year and this is the first time I have had a meal with any one else.”
She slipped one hand over and touched Mrs. Burton’s.
“Of course, I know you think it stupid and absurd of me, but you can’t guess what it means to me to be sitting so close beside you. I feel as if I must be dreaming. I have so wanted to know a great actress.”
Polly Burton gave the girl’s hand a little friendly pressure in return.
“Then you must wake up,” she said firmly. “You see the girls in my Camp Fire group don’t think of me as an actress, but only as a more or less successful Camp Fire guardian. I don’t like stage-struck girls, even if I was one myself once upon a time, as my sister reminded me. Besides, why should you care, child, anything about me or my work. I really don’t see why it should matter to you whether I am an actress or a – well let us say a sewing woman. I should probably have been as unsuccessful at that as any one could be.”
Mrs. Burton laughed and Marta made no reply. Instead she was wise enough to change the subject immediately.
“In any case you have been wonderfully kind. I am sure I don’t know why, but sometimes it seems as if the wrong things in this life are rewarded, such as my coming here uninvited to see you. I wonder if it was selfish tonight to leave Miss Deal to look after my brother.”
As some one had at that moment distracted Mrs. Burton’s attention by speaking to her from the other end of the table, Marta turned to Dan.
“You have been kindest of all,” she remarked with the sudden gentleness she used as unexpectedly as her sudden flares of temper.
Both amused Dan. He had seen the new girl more frequently than any of the other members of their Camp Fire as, for the past few days he had driven one or two of them over each day to call upon Marta and her brother, or more especially upon Ellen Deal. The visits were naturally not always to the two comparative strangers, but to find out if Ellen were happy and comfortable in her self-appointed task of caring for two invalids unknown to her until a short time before.
After dinner, feeling responsible for their guest, Dan sat beside her while the others danced. But, by and by, Sally Ashton, who did not enjoy having Dan completely absorbed by any one else, came and asked him to dance with her. And Marta insisted that he should.
She was not alone, however, for in a short time Peggy joined her. For some reason Peggy had decided not to dance a single time during the evening. She was not sure of her own reasons, but gave the excuse that she was tired.
She was glad now to have the opportunity of remaining with their guest. For, several times during the evening, Howard Brent had seated himself beside her as if he had something of importance on his mind which he wished to confide. And then he had gotten up and gone away without saying it. Peggy did not wish him to make the attempt again. She was not in a mood for confidences and really rejoiced when, at ten o’clock, all of their guests started for home.
CHAPTER IX
An Adventure
“Very well, Vera, if you won’t go with me, I will go alone,” Billy Webster announced. “It is not too far for you to go back by yourself.”
The two of them were riding slowly away from the Sunrise camp on the following day.
Vera looked distressed.
“It isn’t fair of you, Billy, to put me in this position. You know someone ought to be with you. Won’t you let me at least return and tell your mother what we intend doing,” Vera argued. But she continued riding even as she protested. She was just a little behind Billy and he now turned to look at her.
“Come on then, dear. You are not responsible, and whatever happens the blame is mine. But nothing is going to happen or I would not have you with me. So what is the use of worrying mother? What Peggy told me yesterday interests me and I mean to find out more about what those men are planning to do. No one thinks it extraordinary or tries to prevent Dan from going out to hunt any kind of wild beasts he is lucky enough to discover. But, because I happen to be interested in hunting out human beings, my family is always interfering. I haven’t the least intention of hunting them with a gun.”
Billy smiled half seriously and half humorously and then turned his face away.
But Vera Lageloff and the other people who knew him intimately always understood what this expression meant. Billy had made up his mind; and nothing short of physical force would compel him to stop doing what he had determined upon.
Moreover, Vera rarely opposed him. However unformed his purposes and ideals, however he might appear to other people only as an obstinate and ill-balanced boy, he was Vera’s knight. She, at least, believed in him.
She knew that all his thoughts and all his ideals for the future were bound up in his desire to make life easier for the people whom he did not believe were having a fair deal. Of course, Billy was a youthful and rather ignorant socialist, but for those reasons he was perhaps the more enthusiastic.
Certainly his own family did not understand him and knew but little of what was going on inside his mind; but this was not their fault so much as Billy’s. He was sensitive to ridicule, like many dreamers, and, moreover, he never felt that he had the strength for argument. It was easier for him to do the thing he wished and take the consequences, rather than argue and explain. It was enough if Vera and a few other friends realized that his laziness was in part physical delicacy, and that he only acted when he thought the result worth while.
In a way it was odd that Mr. and Mrs. Webster should have had so queer a son and not strange that they should not understand him. Billy was one of the persons whom no one ever fully understands and who never fully understands himself, because he was intended to travel by a different route than the most of us. There was a streak of genius in the O’Neill family. Polly O’Neill, now Mrs. Burton, was never like other people, besides possessing a great gift as an actress. Perhaps Billy was only odd without her genius, but the future alone could answer this question.
To Vera he now appeared a young Sir Galahad riding in front of her. The boy’s hat was off, his fair hair curling over his white forehead, he was pale and thin from his recent illness. But it was a fact that Billy usually had strength for the things he wished to do.
Naturally, Billy Webster had not developed his socialistic ideas alone. Unknown to his parents there had been a laborer on his father’s place, who had once been a school teacher in Russia and because of his views had been compelled to leave. He had been accustomed to come often to Vera’s father’s house, and when Billy was present to talk for hours on his revolutionary propaganda. Moreover, Billy also had a teacher at the High School who, although saner than the Russian, also wished to make the world over according to his own plan. Besides, as Billy was not strong enough to be outdoors so much as the rest of his family, he had spent many quiet hours in reading books on social questions.
“How do you expect to find your way to the place, Billy?” Vera asked, after five or ten minutes’ more of riding in silence.
Again the boy turned his head, laughing cheerfully.
“Sure I don’t know, but I pumped Peggy as much as I could this morning without actually having my plan found out. Besides, I am trusting somewhat to luck. I meant to get some information out of Marshall when he reached camp this morning, but he and Peg went off somewhere to talk. Queer, their being intimate friends all of a sudden, Vera, don’t you think? I agree with Bettina Graham, I never knew two people so unlike. And I don’t know whether I admire Marshall.”
Vera frowned. She cared for Peggy more perhaps than for any of the other Camp Fire girls and she also had been a little surprised at her recent behavior. Yet she answered sensibly:
“It isn’t important, you know, Billy, whether you like Ralph Marshall or not, so long as Peggy does. You know you have said a hundred times you did not think outsiders had a right to interfere with friendships. And Peggy’s pretty clever! If she likes Ralph there must be more to him than the rest of us can see. She don’t like many people.”
Billy nodded. “Yes, that is why I am puzzled. One does not expect nonsense from Peg. And Ralph is rather inclined toward it with most girls. Still you are right, Vera, and I feel a little snubbed – like the fellow always does who is told to practice what he preaches.”
“I didn’t mean to be disagreeable.”
Billy laughed back. “No, you never do and you never are. But, come, let’s cross the road here. We must manage to get lost in the right place – just as Ralph and Peggy did. But do you know, Vera, something already tells me that I am not going to be happy this afternoon? Fact is, I am abominably hungry and we can’t have been riding an hour.”
“Let’s stop, then, and rest for a little while,” the girl suggested. She had been afraid that her companion might grow overtired, as he had taken no long ride before. “You see, I had an idea that we might both develop an appetite, as lunch is so early, so I brought along lots of sandwiches.”
Billy uttered a boyish whoop of delight which had nothing visionary or unselfish in it.
“Trump!” he declared getting off his pony almost at once and then turning to help Vera.
They were in the pine woods, so it was easy enough to find an agreeable resting place under the trees.
In the most natural fashion, after Vera sat down, Billy stretched himself out resting his head in her lap. It was the same as if she had been Peggy, except that he honestly believed she cared for him more than his sister did.
Then he deliberately stuffed himself with sandwiches and talked, as Billy adored doing when he could find a sympathetic audience.
“I just want to find out what those fellows are in hiding for, Vera – not for any special reason,” he insisted. “You see, it gets a little dull, just lying around all day in the sun. I like scenery, but I like it as a background. I am afraid I want a little – a little more – ”
“Excitement,” Vera finished the sentence.
Three-quarters of an hour later Billy Webster had discovered the secret camp.
He and Vera were riding quietly when they came to the circle of hills which Peggy had described. Stopping their ponies they heard the sound of low voices before seeing any one.
Dismounting, Billy asked Vera to wait until his return.
It seemed best that she should allow him to go on his adventure alone, and yet she watched his slender, boyish figure disappear, feeling wretchedly uneasy.
What absurd reason had Billy for wishing to take part in some trouble which assuredly was no affair of his? If anything happened to him, Vera knew that she would always blame herself.
But Billy was entirely unalarmed and, although he was supposed to be timid, he was not even nervous.
He walked straight ahead with his hands in his pockets and a friendly, curious expression in his big, clear eyes.
Billy could not fully explain the reasons for his interest. The excuses he had made of being bored, of wishing to help if the men were in trouble, or if possible to prevent trouble if it were brewing, these were merely somewhat impudent inventions of his. For, after all, what could he do in any case?
The fact of the matter was that Billy simply had been seized by an overwhelming desire to find out what was taking place, and was more inclined than he should have been to yield to his own wishes.
Just as they had been doing the afternoon before, the men were again sitting about a smouldering camp fire, smoking and talking.
Without being observed Billy walked quietly up to them.
The next instant one of the men swung round and cursed him.
Without the least show of fear or anger the boy waited until the fellow had tired himself out. Then, instead of running away, as they plainly wished him to do, he walked a few steps nearer the group.
“I am tired; would you mind my sitting here with you a while?” he asked in a matter-of-fact voice. He seemed so friendly and so totally unafraid that the men must have been favorably impressed. In any case, as no one answered at once, he dropped to the ground between two of the roughest of the group.
Billy had already observed that the men were not of the character Peggy and Ralph suspected them of being.
One of the men now laughed and, leaning over, thrust his evil smelling pipe at the delicate boy. And Billy, who had never smoked a single whiff of anything in his life, took the pipe gravely, put it to his lips drawing in the smoke with several hard puffs. It made him feel slightly ill, yet he never flinched. When he gave it back the man appeared more friendly.
A little later Billy asked two or three simple questions and some one answered him, afterwards they went on talking as if he were not there.
Certainly the boy had some quality which made certain types of people trust him.
Fifteen minutes passed. Resting in a hiding place they had chosen, Vera grew more and more uneasy. If nothing had happened to prevent, why had Billy not returned? If he were all right certainly it was selfish of him not to care for her anxiety and dullness.
But, then, Billy was selfish about little things and Vera recognized the fact. One had to accept this fault in him, feeling there were other characteristics which made one willing to endure it. In big matters the girl believed he had wonderful stores of unselfishness.
Half an hour afterwards Billy came strolling toward her as nonchalantly as he had gone away. Only his eyes were brighter and his expression less boyish.
“We must hurry to get back to camp before dark,” he said, without apologizing for the delay. “I’ll tell you what I found out while we are riding home; but, of course, I understand I have your promise, Vera, never to repeat anything I tell you – no matter what takes place.”
Vera nodded silently. She was accustomed to Billy’s confidences and did not take them all seriously, and this one did not appear as especially important.
“The men have been working on the railroad out here and have gone on a strike. The railroad has refused to come to terms, but they don’t seem to be planning to go away. They are not exactly in hiding, only they want to be left alone until they decide what they are going to do next.”
