UNDERCURRENTS
A week later and life among the new Sunrise Hill Camp Fire girls
appeared to be moving with entire smoothness.
The girls had their regular schedule of work and it was simple enough to
gain new Camp Fire honors in a land whose every phase was unusual and
absorbing, and where work in itself became an adventure.
In a low camp chair outside her own tent one morning Mrs. Burton was
resting an hour or so after breakfast. She assisted with the work
whenever it was possible, but it was one of her doctor’s orders that she
spend a part of each day as quietly as possible.
Inside her tent she could hear Marie making their beds and sighing with
each movement. Marie was still unreconciled. Still, she insisted upon
wearing her conventional maid’s dress of black cloth in the mornings
with white collars and cuffs and black silk in the afternoons, with
always a tiny piece of white embroidery perched on top her shining black
hair. She was very piquant, was Marie, but one can imagine how absurd
she looked amid a group of Camp Fire girls in camp fire costumes on a
plateau in Arizona.
However, Mrs. Burton was not worrying. Life at present was too
delightful to allow small matters to count. And Marie would doubtless,
become reconciled to the West, as many another equally homesick person
has before her.
The day was blue and silver, the sky almost cloudless, the sun turning
the sands to silver and glistening white on the summits of the cliffs
beyond. But under the pine trees on top of the mesa it remained cool and
serene.
Gerry Williams was lying at full length on the ground near Mrs. Burton.
This she usually managed to accomplish, no matter how the other girls
might try to forestall her. Undoubtedly, except for Peggy Webster, she
appeared to be Mrs. Burton’s favorite, and Peggy was her own niece,
almost her own child, as she had none of her own. But, then, Peggy was
too straightforward, too downright, to let any one get ahead of her,
even so clever a girl as Gerry.
Gerry had been shelling peas for luncheon, but had stopped with her task
only half finished.
At present, a few yards away, Peggy was seated, stripping the husks from
a great pile of sweet corn. Her hair was not long and hung straight and
black just below her shoulders. She wore a band of scarlet about her
head, holding the hair back from her eyes. Peggy’s cheeks were crimson
and her skin browner than ever from the Arizona sun. Partly to tease her
and partly because she did look like an Indian, the other girls had
recently insisted upon naming her Minnehaha, “Laughing Water,” which
Peggy considered ridiculous.
She was not laughing at present, however, but frowning and keeping
resolutely at her task. Bettina sat near her, reading. Vera was on the
other side, peeling potatoes. In some curious fashion the more
unpleasant tasks in camp appeared always to fall to Vera. There are
people in the world like this, so that one wonders if they select the
tasks or if the tasks select them. Alice Ashton and Ellen Deal were
merely sewing on an outdoor costume for Ellen while Sally was pretending
to write a letter.
The cover had been firmly placed on her box of chocolates. She had
produced a box from her pocket a short time before, but, as Camp Fire
guardian, Mrs. Burton had really felt obliged to object.
Too much eating of sweets was against all Camp Fire regulations.
Moreover, where had Sally acquired such an inexhaustible supply? Terry
Benton had been seen to appear with a box which he must have ridden a
great many miles to secure. There must have been something about Sally
which immediately suggested sweets to her young men friends. Although
Mrs. Burton was secretly amused that the serious-minded Dick and Esther
Ashton should have so frivolous a daughter, Sally must be made to
respect rules and preserve her health.
“Mrs. Burton, do you know what I am thinking of?” Gerry asked, with a
soft inflection in her voice which was very attractive. “I wish we had a
Camp Fire name for you, but I can’t think of any title lovely enough.
Bettina,” she called across, “you are everlastingly reading. What name
can we give to the most delightful and gifted person in the world?”
Gerry’s flattery was so transparent that Mrs. Burton laughed.
But Bettina was so absorbed that she did not understand, for she did not
answer at once. And for the first time at Gerry’s words, Polly observed
that Bettina was reading when the girls were supposed to be at some kind
of work.
It was Peggy who replied with an unmistakable lifting of her eyebrows.
“Why not call Tante the Queen of Sheba, Gerry, and be done with it? I
suppose, because we know so little about her, she has always seemed to
me to be the most extraordinary of women. Then, she made Solomon answer
_all_ her questions, and I don’t believe even Tante could accomplish
more than that.”
Naturally the girls laughed at Peggy’s speech and Mrs. Burton as well;
nevertheless she did feel a little aggrieved. There had been a note of
sarcasm in Peggy’s voice which she had never heard there before in any
reference to her. Could the sarcasm have been intended for Gerry or for
her?
Polly was a little worried at the two girls’ attitude toward each other,
yet the fault did appear to be Peggy’s. Could Peggy be a little jealous
at her interest in a strange girl, of whose history she knew nothing.
But Peggy had finished her task by this time and, getting up with a
great kettle of corn swinging on her arm, remarked cheerfully: “Glad I
am through with my work, especially as I won’t be at home to eat any of
the corn. You remember, Tante, that Bettina and Vera and I are going off
for a ride with our new Camp Fire guide. We have finished our share of
the work.”
Vera continued being busy for a few moments, but Bettina got up slowly,
still holding the book half open in her hand.
Something in her manner annoyed Mrs. Burton and she spoke quickly and
thoughtlessly after her old fashion:
“You and Vera seem to have been industrious enough, Peggy, but I cannot
see that Bettina has done a conspicuous share.”
She was sorry the next instant, for Bettina made no reply but, flushing,
walked quietly away.
She was not accustomed to criticism and it had been difficult to keep
her temper.
But Peggy waited until she was out of hearing and then deliberately set
down her kettle.
“That was not fair of you, Tante, and you give a wrong impression of
Bettina to the other girls. She was reading some Indian legends which I
asked her to learn and tell at our camp fire this evening. They form as
much a part of our honor work as other things, and I thought, if we were
to visit the Indian reservations and see their summer festivals, it
would be interesting to know more about them. Good-by; don’t worry about
us; we shan’t be long.”
Then off she and Vera went toward their sleeping tent in order to change
to their riding clothes.
They left Mrs. Burton feeling suddenly discouraged with herself as a
Camp Fire guardian when, a few moments before, the atmosphere had been
so serene. She was particularly sorry that the one girl with whom she
seemed least able to get on was the daughter of her most beloved friend.
But Gerry interrupted her train of thought. She was sitting up now, and
close enough to take hold of Mrs. Burton’s hand. Gerry always appeared
sweet tempered, no matter what occurred.
“You have not told us, nor let us choose a name for you,” she murmured
with the half-affectionate and half-admiring manner which she always
showed to the older woman.
But this time Mrs. Burton was not interested.
“Wait until I have earned a title. I may not be a worthy Camp Fire
guardian. But, in any case, the girl among us whom we shall decide has
done most for our camp fire during this summer shall have from me, if it
is possible, the gift she most desires.”
Then, before any one could answer, a man came toward them over the trail
at the top of the mesa.
He was not a prepossessing figure. He must have been over forty years
old and his skin looked as brown and as hard as the bark on a tree.
Indeed, Sally Ashton insisted that he had once been a tree in the
petrified forest nearby and, in some strange fashion, had been
transformed into a man.
Yet Mrs. Burton looked at him with pleasure. His age and his lack of
attractiveness was greatly in his favor, in her eyes. But, then, he
carried himself erectly; walked with a long, swinging stride which was
peculiar to the West; and obviously had a sense of humor.
Mr. Gardener had brought him to camp a few days before, to act as the
second of the Sunrise Hill Camp Fire guides. Mrs. Burton must have made
the Gardeners see that Terry Benton was an impossibility. Not that any
fault was to be found with Terry himself except that his age or rather
his youth was against him.
The new guide Mr. Gardener introduced as an old friend of his—Mr.
Jefferson Simpson—who was temporarily out of a job. The truth of the
matter was, Mr. Simpson had been a fairly rich man until a few weeks
before, but a silver mine he owned had suddenly ceased producing and Mr.
Simpson’s ranch and his money had gone to keep the stockholders from
loss.
At this moment he lifted his hat and, though he appeared perfectly
polite, one could guess that he was secretly amused at his latest
occupation. He may have had a variety of jobs in his day, but never
anything like this.
“Good morning. The ponies are ready and needing exercise,” he announced.
At this moment Marie appeared at the door of her mistress’ tent.
Her costume was irreproachable; her figure as nearly perfect as a small,
well-rounded person’s figure can be. But Marie’s expression, as she
surveyed the new guide, changed from the disconsolate to the disdainful.
“Evidently this was the type of man the West produced. He had no style,
no manners—and his clothes!” As Marie gazed at the rough gray flannel
shirt, the rusty gray hat and discolored khaki trousers, and her mind
went back to the immaculate persons she was in the habit of seeing in
the lobbies of the theaters on Broadway, she visibly shuddered.
It was barely possible that Mr. Jefferson Simpson understood her
expression.
“Perhaps Mam’selle will come along; the trail may be a bit steep, but we
shall not go far; and perhaps it may be best to have an older person
with us. There is a little trick burro I can have ready in a moment.”
Marie refused to reply; shrugging her shoulders, she vanished inside the
tent.
But Mrs. Burton exchanged a brief glance with the new Camp Fire guide.
Did he also understand that Marie was extremely sensitive about her age
and that she expected to be regarded as a girl, although undoubtedly she
must have been nearer thirty than twenty. The shadow of a smile was
exchanged between them.
At the same instant Peggy and Vera and Bettina came out from their tent,
having changed into their riding costumes—short skirts and trousers and
high boots.
Peggy kissed her aunt farewell and, rather shyly at her invitation, both
Vera and Bettina followed suit. Not that Polly Burton was usually
demonstrative, except with the few persons whom she really loved. But
she wished to make amends to Bettina and, at the moment, this appeared
the only way.
Later, she and the remaining four girls watched the others wind their
way along the trail below the mesa and disappear toward the northwest.
After lunch, when Polly had gone inside her tent to write her husband,
and Alice and Ellen Dean were taking afternoon naps away from the heat
of the early afternoon sun, Sally Ashton and Gerry Williams went down
toward Cottonwood Creek together. They did not mention their going to
any one, but it was cooler in the neighborhood of the creek.