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.