ANTAGONISMS
Dinner was finished and yet it was early evening.
Over in the west the sunset was flaming the sky with the brilliant
colors of this land of clear atmospheres.
Seated in a group about a smouldering outdoor fire were eight
girls—seven of them in ceremonial camp fire costumes and one of them
dressed as an Indian. Curious that the Indian girl should be the fairest
of them all!
Her pale yellow hair was fixed in the elaborate fashion of the Hopi
maidens, with great loops over each ear, her dress of white. About her
throat were several strings of uncut turquoise. The dress itself was
made of a single piece of woolen cloth—really a white blanket—with a
deep border of bright blue and red at the bottom and at the top. Around
her waist was a white belt and on her feet soft white moccasins, with
strings of white leather wound about her legs almost to the knees until
she looked as if she were wearing white top boots.
Dawapa was also in her ceremonial costume, as she was the guest of the
Camp Fire girls. At the moment she was deftly fashioning a baho, or
feather prayer plume. The other girls were watching her with interest.
They were at some distance back from the fire with the evening wind
blowing the smoke away to the northwest among the blue peaks of the San
Francisco hills and the gorges of the Grand Canyon.
Gerry Williams was sitting next to Dawapa, with Sally Ashton on her
other side, Sally’s brown head resting against Gerry’s shoulder and her
lids closing now and then over her big brown eyes. She looked like a
sleepy, sweet-tempered doll.
Opposite were Vera and Bettina, and in front Alice, Peggy and Ellen.
They had broken their usual Camp Fire circle formation in order the
better to observe their guest.
Their Camp Fire guardian was not with them at the moment, having gone to
her tent after dinner. It seemed better, now and then, to Polly that she
leave the girls alone.
On the ground beside Dawapa was a large round basket, flat like a tray
and woven in red and green grasses, with a disk inside to represent the
sun.
In spite of the lateness of the hour, as it was still sufficiently
light, Alice and Ellen and Vera were working at their own weaving. Since
her arrival two days before, the Indian girl had been teaching the
Sunrise Hill Camp Fire club to improve their hand craft in more than one
way. Although Dawapa was not yet an artist to equal her mother, her
skill in basketry, in silver work and more especially in pottery had
awed the American girls. It was one thing to be a modern Camp Fire girl,
no matter how successful in the obtaining of the green honors, and
another to have been born to the life of the camp and the inheritances
of generations of hand workers.
“What is that pretty thing you are making used for, Dawapa?” Gerry
asked, glancing up from her own pretty hands, which were idly crossed in
her lap, toward the other still fairer girl. Gerry did not seem to be
making a great effort to add to her Camp Fire honors and thus attain to
a higher membership.
The Indian girl was almost abnormally shy and timid—or at least she
appeared timid to the Camp Fire girls. But she had been to a government
school and spoke a fair amount of English.
“We plant our prayer plumes on the altar when we pray to the Indian
Gods,” she answered gently, with a faraway look in her light blue eyes.
“Our first prayer is for good thoughts—then that our children may be
wise and strong, and that the God of the Sky may be glad of us.”
Gerry laughed. It was odd how few things seemed to strike her as
serious.
Alice Ashton frowned. She was not pleased at her younger sister’s
intimacy with Gerry, of whose history they knew almost nothing.
“That is lovely, Dawapa; thank you for telling us,” she returned,
wondering if the Indian girl would feel that they had less good manners
than her own people. “After that, do you not pray for something you
especially wish for—the thing you most desire?”
Alice spoke earnestly and the other girls remained silent. Perhaps there
was not one among them who did not cherish a secret wish; perhaps for
some simple, material possession, or perhaps an ambition which only the
future could gratify.
But Dawapa only nodded her head and did not reply.
Gerry leaned over.
“Oh, if that prayer plume thing brings one good luck, give it to me?”
she demanded, reaching over and making an attempt to take the baho from
the Indian girl’s hand.
But Dawapa held to it firmly.
“Don’t do that, Gerry,” Bettina Graham said hastily and with a note of
authority. “Dawapa told you that the prayer plume is a part of the
Indian religious ceremony.”
After all, Bettina Graham was her mother’s daughter, and courtesy and
good breeding had been the rule of her life. She did not dislike Gerry;
indeed, she had not paid a great deal of attention to her, but
occasionally something in the other girl’s behavior offended her almost
unconsciously.
And, in a way, Gerry knew and resented this. In fact, she had
immediately decided that what Bettina’s friends called shyness was only
hauteur, due to her father’s prominence and her own social position.
At Bettina’s speech she now flushed angrily, but drew away from the
Indian girl. Then she laughed a faintly mocking, insinuating laugh.
“I beg your pardon; I had forgotten what a convert you have become to
‘the poor Indian.’”
Just exactly what Gerry meant by this stupid speech, Bettina did not
appreciate. However, she did know that it was her intention to be rude.
“You have extraordinarily bad manners, Gerry. I wonder if it is because
you do not know better?” Bettina returned quietly. By this time she was
also angry, but she had a self-possession which gave her the advantage.
Yet, the moment her sentence was finished, Bettina regretted it. Among
the new Sunrise Hill Camp Fire club this was the first open quarrel, and
the other girls were looking uncomfortable. Bettina had not meant to
make her accusation so sweeping. Having lost her temper, she had simply
said more than she should, as most of us do under similar circumstances.
Moreover, Bettina felt a little stab at realizing that Gerry would
doubtless tell her side of their difficulty to their Camp Fire guardian.
In Bettina’s mind there was little doubt whose part she would take.
“You are hateful, Bettina,” Sally Ashton murmured, still a little
sleepily. She had not listened carefully to what had been said, but
wished to announce herself as Gerry’s champion. The truth was that Alice
had recently lectured her younger sister on the subject of their
intimacy, and Sally intended to show how utterly unimpressed she was by
family advice.
If Gerry intended continuing the quarrel she did not say anything more
at this instant. For, glancing up, she had seen that Mrs. Burton had
come out of her tent and was walking slowly towards them.
Bettina also had seen her and was a little puzzled that Gerry did not
make the best of her present opportunity. Then she concluded that Gerry
was a little ashamed, as she herself was, over their childish lack of
self-control. Perhaps next day there would be a chance to straighten
things out when they were alone, particularly as they were expecting
guests to arrive at their camp fire at any moment.
“Our visitors have not yet appeared, have they?” Polly asked a moment
later, as she sat down next to her niece.
Straightway Gerry kissed her hand to their Camp Fire guardian across the
intervening space, looking as sweet and unruffled as if nothing
unpleasant had occurred.
Really, by this time only Peggy showed any especial expression of
annoyance. Peggy simply refused at all times to pretend to any state of
mind she did not feel. Although she had not spoken, recognizing that she
had no part in Bettina’s and Gerry’s quarrel, none the less was she
ruffled.
Recognizing this fact, but not understanding the cause, Polly slipped
her arm affectionately through Peggy’s and held her close for a moment.
She could feel the girl grow less rigid; see her expression change and
soften. There was no doubting the sincerity of the devotion between the
niece and aunt, even if now and then they did not entirely approve of
each other’s actions. Mrs. Burton, however, had not the faintest idea
that Peggy would at any time oppose her in a matter of importance.
Perhaps she had grown too accustomed to believing in her own charm and
unconsciously in the influence of her own success. So far no one
appreciated the fact that Peggy Webster was one of the few people who
absolutely had to think for herself, and to be faithful to the truth and
to justice as she saw it.
“Terry Benton’s note to me said he wished to bring half a dozen other
friends with him tonight, so that was rather an unnecessary question on
my part,” Mrs. Burton went on, wondering why the group of girls remained
so silent and constrained, and glancing with more attention from one
face to the other.
Some little time before, Mrs. Burton had been compelled to surrender the
idea that she could order her Sunrise Hill Camp Fire club as if it were
a nunnery and she the Mother Superior. At least, this was the accusation
which Mrs. Gardener had certainly made on their arrival. Really, Polly
had only wished to keep clear of entanglements. But Terry Benton,
although not permitted to remain as guide, had manifested no ill
feeling. Indeed, ever since he had been a more or less frequent visitor
at camp, bringing an occasional friend with him. He and Gerry and Sally
seemed to have formed a kind of three-cornered friendship.
Tonight, however, was the first time that he had suggested bringing so
many visitors at one time. But Terry had written to say he had a friend
from the East who had just arrived at the Gardener ranch and wanted to
call. There were also four or five western fellows who declined to be
put off any longer.
Therefore Mrs. Burton had acquiesced and written to say she and the Camp
Fire girls would be glad to see them. After all, she remembered how
important a part their boy friends had played in her own Camp Fire days.
Perhaps it was a sign of age to have expected other girls to be
different. Anyhow, Mrs. Burton had the grace to laugh at herself after
submitting to the inevitable. And she was now first to spy their
expected guests.
But the moment after, Sally also had seen them and jumping quickly to
her feet, all her sleepiness vanished, began waving a yellow scarf.
The newcomers made an effective picture, riding in single file along the
trail which led from the Gardener ranch. Although the sun was not
entirely down, the moon had risen and was showing faintly in the
opposite sky. Later would be revealed, the Pleiades which the Indian
calls the time of the sweet influences.
The young men were wearing rough-rider costumes. Observing Sally’s
signal, Terry Benton, who was leading the line of march, rose in his
saddle and saluted. The next instant six other men followed suit and
together they halloed across the desert the long, curious cry of the
western cowboy.
But the girls had also risen in a picturesque group about their camp
fire, calling back in return the now world-famous camp fire cheer:
“Wohelo for aye, Wohelo for aye, Wohelo, Wohelo, Wohelo for aye!
Wohelo for work, Wohelo for health, Wohelo for love.”
Ten minutes later, leaving their burros below fastened to the trees near
Cottonwood Creek, Terry and his friends, after climbing the mesa, came
directly toward Mrs. Burton. And before Terry could introduce any one of
them, a young man held out his hand.
“I have met you before, Mrs. Burton. You remember you said I could not
be a member of your Camp Fire club? Well, I have done the next best
thing, I am a visitor at the Gardener ranch. Benton and I are old
friends, and when he wrote me of what was going on out here, I guessed
the rest. Besides Mrs. Webster and Mrs. Graham confessed. I think they
want a first-hand report of Miss Bettina and Miss Peggy from me.”
But Peggy had by this time joined her aunt.
“Ralph Marshall; how extraordinary to see you out here! You are the very
last person I would ever have dreamed of. I thought, after your visit to
us, you were to stay on and study scientific farming with father.”
“Oh, well, I have concluded to be a ranchman instead,” Ralph returned,
smiling and shaking hands with Peggy.
Peggy was pleased to see him. He had been a guest at their place several
times while she was growing up and was really a charming fellow, if a
little spoiled by his father’s wealth. Then his people were friends of
Bettina’s mother and father, as well as of her own.