UNDERSTANDING
Just at the door of Mrs. Burton’s tent Bettina stopped a moment.
“May I come in for a little, please, Tante; I have not told you
everything,” she said under her breath, her face, which had been pale
until this moment, flooding crimson.
But it was the first time for several weeks that Bettina had used the
title by which she had always called Mrs. Burton when she was a little
girl.
“Certainly,” Polly answered quietly, opening the flap of her curtain and
entering, the two girls following, for Peggy seemed determined to have a
part in each interview.
Her tent had been a parting gift from her husband and was an unusually
comfortable one, which held a divan, a low table and a chair, beside the
sleeping cots. There were Indian blankets on the floor for rugs.
Polly sat down on the chair, motioning to the girls to be seated on the
divan.
“I am tired,” she apologized.
And Peggy saw with a pang of remorse and regret that her aunt looked ill
as well as unhappy over what she had been through with Bettina and
herself. And Peggy also wondered whether she would ever be forgiven,
realizing what a difference it would make in all her future life should
she lose her affection. Sitting down now beside her aunt she did not
dare speak to her nor touch her.
Bettina, however, would not sit down. Suddenly she looked like a
contrite child, instead of the somewhat arrogant and superior character
she had been pretending to be for the past few hours.
Reaching into her pocket she drew forth a small wooden statuette, carved
and brilliantly colored.
“Tewa gave me this; I thought maybe you ought to have it,” Bettina said
penitently. “It seems absurd to me and yet I did not like to refuse and
hurt his feelings by not accepting. I think it is a kind of an idol
which is supposed to bring good fortune. Anyhow, Tewa won it at an
Indian race this morning, and he gave it me when he returned to the
house and found me there.”
And, like a child giving away a new doll, Bettina handed the little
image to her Camp Fire guardian.
Bettina and Mrs. Burton both looked so absurd that, partly from
nervousness and more from amusement, Peggy giggled irresistibly.
For an instant Polly and Bettina attempted to pay no attention to her;
then Mrs. Burton’s blue eyes lightened and she bit her lips. Bettina
only remained grave.
Then, unexpectedly, because she always had done unexpected things and
always would, Polly Burton, having changed but little from Polly
O’Neill, reached out and impulsively took Bettina’s hand.
“My dear, I wonder if we have both been absurd and I have been unfair?”
she questioned. “It is only because I have cared so much——”
Bettina sat down on the rug and, unlike her usual reserved self, put her
head down on Mrs. Burton’s knees, covering her face.
“Please don’t make me go home; I don’t want to,” she whispered, “but in
any case Peggy shan’t go with me.”
Then, before any one else could speak, Vera, without asking permission,
walked inside the tent.
“I am so sorry to interrupt,” she began, “but Gerry Williams asked me to
come and explain something to you. She says she closed the door on you,
Bettina, in the Indian house this morning, partly for a joke and perhaps
because, in a way she hoped to make Mrs. Burton angry with you.”
Vera spoke in an entirely matter-of-fact fashion, as if there were
nothing unusual in her statement. But the others stared at her in
surprise.
“I thought it was Gerry, but I was not sure enough to say so,” Bettina
murmured, “and I am afraid I don’t understand now.”
“But why should she?” Mrs. Burton questioned.
Peggy, as usual, came directly to the point.
“It wasn’t so extraordinary; Gerry is built that way. I guessed her
measure from the beginning. But the thing that puzzles me, Vera, is not
Gerry’s mischievousness, but how you induced her to confess.”
“Oh, I saw that something troubled her and I simply went to her and
asked what it was. I had been just ahead of her when we left the Indian
room and I suspected. But I did not speak of that. I usually can
persuade people to tell me the things that worry them.”
Mrs. Burton took Bettina’s hand.
“I am glad we were friends before this happened, but I am afraid matters
are still wrong as I now have the problem of Gerry. I did not dream of
the difficulties a Camp Fire guardian might have; certainly not of so
unsuccessful a one as I am. Gerry will have to go back, and I had hoped
we might do something for her.”
Polly stopped and hesitated.
“Please, not on my account,” Bettina urged gently. “After all, it was
only a silly thing that Gerry did—not worth much attention.”
“And after all you have always said, Gerry has not had the chance the
rest of us have had,” Peggy interposed, which was good of her, since she
had not liked Gerry from the beginning, and liked her even less well
now.
Mrs. Richard Burton gave an expressive shrug of her slender shoulders.
“I expect I am more at fault than any one else; but life is a matter of
the future—not of the past—isn’t it? And yet I am sure we have all
learned many worthwhile things from our few months of campfire life
together. So, suppose we let Gerry have another chance. In the meantime
we may be missing a wonderful sight. Let us walk toward Oraibi
together.”
Taking Bettina’s arm in hers, Mrs. Burton left her tent, Vera and Peggy
just behind. Then, after calling the other girls, they went again toward
the road near the mesa crowned with the village of Oraibi.
In the plain above they could faintly see the Snake Priests moving
around in a large circle—then more and more quickly. It was not possible
to appreciate exactly what they were doing, for, although the Camp Fire
party had found a slight elevation to stand upon, the mesa remained many
feet above.
It was just as well, however, that they could not see more distinctly.
They did discover that, when the priests left the circle of dancers,
they ran to the four quarters of the mesa and cast their offerings over
their sides.
And then the Camp Fire party returned again to their camp, since the
crowds of tourists were coming quickly down and darkness was falling.
Neither did they think again of the young Indian, who went away that
night many miles across the plain to plant a feather prayer plume at a
shrine of white shells in the desert. Not until morning did Dawn Light
return to the village of his fathers.
The next volume of the Camp Fire series will be called “The Camp Fire
Girls at the End of the Trail” and will continue to tell of the
adventures and romances of the girls in the far West. New characters
will be introduced and new and interesting developments in the lives of
the present heroines.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
BOOKS BY MARGARET VANDERCOOK
THE RANCH GIRLS SERIES
THE RANCH GIRLS AT RAINBOW LODGE
THE RANCH GIRLS’ POT OF GOLD
THE RANCH GIRLS AT BOARDING SCHOOL
THE RANCH GIRLS IN EUROPE
THE RANCH GIRLS AT HOME AGAIN
THE RANCH GIRLS AND THEIR GREAT ADVENTURE
THE RED CROSS GIRLS SERIES
THE RED CROSS GIRLS IN THE BRITISH TRENCHES
THE RED CROSS GIRLS ON THE FRENCH FIRING LINE
THE RED CROSS GIRLS IN BELGIUM
THE RED CROSS GIRLS WITH THE RUSSIAN ARMY
THE RED CROSS GIRLS WITH THE ITALIAN ARMY
THE RED CROSS GIRLS UNDER THE STARS AND STRIPES
STORIES ABOUT CAMP FIRE GIRLS
THE CAMP FIRE GIRLS AT SUNRISE HILL
THE CAMP FIRE GIRLS AMID THE SNOWS
THE CAMP FIRE GIRLS IN THE OUTSIDE WORLD
THE CAMP FIRE GIRLS ACROSS THE SEA
THE CAMP FIRE GIRLS’ CAREERS
THE CAMP FIRE GIRLS IN AFTER YEARS
THE CAMP FIRE GIRLS IN THE DESERT
THE CAMP FIRE GIRLS AT THE END OF THE TRAIL
------------------------------------------------------------------------
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES
1. Moved “BOOKS BY MARGARET VANDERCOOK” section from the beginning too
the end of the book.
2. Silently corrected obvious typographical errors and variations in
spelling.
3. Retained archaic, non-standard, and uncertain spellings as printed.
4. Enclosed italics font in _underscores_.