The Camp Fire Girls at the End of the Trail

In spite of his wish to be sympathetic, Dan laughed.

“Oh, that is a common enough experience.”

But the girl shook her head.

“No,” she answered quietly, “there are a good many foolish people in the world, I know, but there are degrees. It seems to me I am the most hopeless kind.” She turned her eyes full upon Dan and curiously he was reminded of certain pools in his own New Hampshire woods on a soft grey day.

“My name is Marta Clark. I meant to tell you before. My brother and I are here living in a tent not far away from your camp – a few miles I believe. My brother broke down in health and we had to come out here because of him. He is still very ill and I have been taking care of him. If I can’t even hobble about for a few days I don’t know what is to become of us. Besides he has not the faintest idea where I am. I realized he would not allow me to prowl about trying to see Mrs. Burton if he knew, although he and I had talked of her being here. We had seen her act once and adored her.”

“Oh, you’ll find some one able to look after him for a few days well enough,” Dan replied, not viewing the matter as seriously as his new acquaintance did.

Again the girl flashed what seemed to be an angry glance toward him.

“I don’t enjoy your forcing me to confess the fact,” she went on, “but my brother and I are desperately poor – far too poor to hire any one to take care of us, even for a few days. He was working and taking care of me, and when his illness came we had almost nothing. He was only a reporter on a paper and I was at school.”

“Nevertheless,” said Dan firmly, “I am sure we shall manage in some way to have you cared for until you are all right again.”

The girl’s face cleared, and Dan noticed that she had a rather care-worn look which her words had just explained.

“I don’t know why I should feel it when we are utter strangers, but you do look as if you could make things happen the way they should. I suppose it is because you are strong and patient. I am neither of those things.”

But they could not go on talking because, at this moment, the Camp Fire guardian was coming toward them.

CHAPTER V

The Patient

“But it is awfully kind of you, Ellen.”

Ellen Deal shook her head.

“No,” she answered. “I shall like it. Since I came out West with you and the Camp Fire girls, Mrs. Burton, I have been feeling that perhaps I was here under false pretenses. You see I am older than the other girls, and came partly because Dr. Sylvia told me I might be useful to you. Except for showing you a few first aid remedies I have not been useful at all. I don’t feel that I am a particularly agreeable companion, so I add nothing to the pleasure of the Camp Fire in that way.”

“Nonsense,” the Camp Fire guardian responded. Nevertheless a slight pang of self-reproach assailed her. Had she allowed Ellen Deal to feel that she was of less interest to the Camp Fire group than the other girls? It was true that Ellen was older, that she was midway between the age of a Camp Fire girl and a possible guardian. But, more than this, she seemed to have one of the hard and matter-of-fact natures it is always difficult to reach. Romance, the dreams and desires that are a part of nearly every life, hardly appeared to touch Ellen; or if they did at least she gave no sign. In their months together amid perhaps as beautiful and extraordinary scenery as there is anywhere in the world, Ellen had showed no enthusiasm; in her life with the Camp Fire girls, no especial affection except, perhaps, in friendship with Alice Ashton.

“However, she was looking in a great deal better health,” Mrs. Burton reflected, and the present moment was scarcely the time for introspection by either of them.

“Just the same it is good of you, Ellen, besides not another one of us would be equal to the task. But if it is too much for you, you must let us know. Peggy is going with you now and I’ll drive over in the morning to see how you are getting on.”

“Thank you,” Ellen replied gratefully. Yet she would like to have said so much more – to have told Mrs. Burton how greatly she appreciated her kindness in allowing her, an entire stranger, to be one of her group of Camp Fire girls and also her guest for the past three months. However, words never came easily to her, for she was not one of the fortunate persons who can make themselves charming by the simple gift of expression, which may or may not be sincere.

Then she went away to pack her bag with a few necessary articles for the work ahead of her.

It was to Ellen Deal that Dan Webster had first confided the difficult position of their unexpected guest. Immediately Ellen had suggested that she go with the new girl to her camp and there see what should be done. Besides the fact of her brother’s illness, the girl herself would require looking after for a few days, if not for a longer time.

Later Mrs. Webster and Mrs. Burton had given a more or less enforced consents since, under the circumstances, there seemed nothing else to be done.

“Ellen certainly looks competent,” Polly decided at this moment, watching her move away. Her figure was small and neat, suggesting a great deal of reserve strength; her sandy hair had grown a shade brighter in tone from her months in the sunshine and her always bright color, brighter. It was a pity that she appeared so severe and critical.

This, also, was Marta Clark’s impression, riding beside Ellen, Dan and Peggy occupying the front seat of the wagon which the Camp Fire party ordinarily used for carrying provisions.

Naturally Marta felt under deep obligations to the strange young woman beside her, yet she would like to have been able to prepare her for certain revelations ahead.

Ellen looked so scrupulously tidy. Then Marta knew the Camp Fire ideals and training which Ellen had added to her nursing ones. And her own housekeeping left so much to be desired. In fact Marta realized that she was careless, and her brother equally so. How would Miss Deal survive for even a few days with them, in spite of her spirit of self-sacrifice? Certainly Marta hated to accept so great a favor as the care of herself and her brother must represent. Yet, she too appreciated the fact that there seemed nothing else to be done.

The ride did not occupy half an hour, Marta naturally directing the way.

Nevertheless it was nearly ten o’clock in the morning before the little party reached the new camp.

Two tents were situated in a small clearing at the foot of a rocky hill. Near them was the remains of a camp fire and not far away a litter of old papers and tin cans. In front of one tent there was an invalid’s chair and also a cot. Yet neither of them were occupied.

“I wonder where Rob can be,” Marta said, trying to conceal her evident nervousness from the three strangers.

She need scarcely have asked the question. The moment the wagon stopped, a tall, abnormally thin young fellow came quickly toward them, evidently having heard their approach from some distance off. He was breathless and the color was burning crimson on his high cheek bones. He looked like Marta except that he was handsomer, for his features were more regular, although the brother and sister had nearly the same coloring.

He bowed politely enough to the strangers in the little party. But afterwards, something, perhaps his own illness and weakness, seemed to destroy his self-control.

“Where have you been, Marta? What has happened? I have been searching for you ever since six o’clock. I wakened to find you gone, and after waiting an hour for you to come back I thought, or rather I could not think, what had become of you. You are considerate not to have left me a message.”

There was an angry sarcasm in the young man’s voice and manner which was extraordinarily out of place under the circumstances. Dan felt so sorry for the girl with them, that he would like to have settled with her brother, except for the apparent fact of his illness. But a high temper was evidently a family characteristic. Dan recalled Marta’s mentioning that she and her brother were from Kentucky.

But, even while he was speaking, the young fellow had to grasp hold of the wagon for support.

Marta was trying to explain to him, when Ellen Deal climbed quietly out.

“You are not strong enough to be on your feet any longer; you must have been walking about for several hours, when you know you are not expected to take any exercise,” she said authoritatively. Then, without the least hesitation or embarrassment, she took the perfectly strange young man by the elbow and led him to his chair. He accompanied her without a protest.

Afterwards, while Dan and Peggy were helping Marta to alight from the wagon, Ellen tried to make him understand what had occurred.

Secretly Rob Clark was both ashamed and amused by the situation – ashamed of his own exhibition of temper, for he was good-natured on most occasions. But also he was amused by the strange young woman’s immediate command of him. However he really was too weak to protest and, after discovering his sister’s injury, grateful to the newcomer beyond his present strength to express.

A short time after Ellen was in complete command, both of the situation and her two patients.

Marta was stretched on the cot in front of the tent and her brother had not been allowed to move from his chair.

With Peggy’s and Dan’s aid a fresh fire had been built and beef tea fed the invalid, who confessed to having had no breakfast because of his anxiety. Also the confusion inside the tent had been a little straightened out, although Dan and Peggy were obliged to leave when they might still have been useful.

However, they, too, were under Ellen’s command. She insisted that they drive over to the big hotel not far away in order to secure the advice of a physician. He was to be asked to come at once.

And seeing them depart, promising to return next day, Marta was not sure whether she was sorry or glad of the results of her own impertinence and the accident due to it. These months alone with her brother had been very depressing. They had no friends in the West and now, perhaps, if she behaved herself, the Camp Fire girls might be kind to her.

CHAPTER VI

A Wager

Peggy Webster was standing alone, smoothing the shaggy coat of one of the pair of mules hitched to their wagon. Her brother had gone into the hotel nearby to find a physician for their new acquaintance.

Peggy was not wearing her Camp Fire dress. She was under the impression that it made her more conspicuous in coming to a fashionable hotel, such as this one. The guests might or might not understand the reason for her unusual costume.

However, being Peggy, characteristically her toilet was of the simplest and most convenient kind. She had on a short, tan-colored corduroy skirt and jacket, a cream silk blouse and a corduroy hat. She also wore riding boots of brown leather, finding them more convenient than ordinary shoes.

Yet, in spite of her simplicity, perhaps because of it, she made a charming figure. She was of medium height and slender, with broad shoulders and narrow hips; although Peggy was sixteen, she still suggested in the carriage of her head and body the vitality and grace of a boy rather than a girl. It was difficult to analyze this quality of the girl’s which, however, people recognized at once. It may have come from a certain independence of spirit – a love of outdoor things – a straightforwardness and an avoidance of the emotions which most girls enjoy. Yet none of these qualities are essentially boyish, since ninety-nine boys out of a hundred may not possess them, but the description is used for want of a better one.

From the three months of living outdoors Peggy’s olive skin was a deeper tone and her color more brilliant. In her Camp Fire costume she sometimes wore her hair loose; but on occasions like this, it was braided and fastened close about her small head. In looking close at Peggy, what one was forced to admire in her most was the clearness and beauty of her dark eyes, which stared straight into yours with a perfect faith that the ideals of every human being were as clear and sincere as her own. Another charm was the unconsciously proud tilt of her short, straight nose and chin.

Glancing up to see if her brother had finished his errand, Peggy saw an immaculate figure coming toward her over the carefully tended grounds of the hotel.

She waved a friendly hand toward him, the young man returning her greeting more languidly.

“Gotten up regardless, aren’t you Ralph?” Peggy remarked good-naturedly, as Ralph Marshall joined her.

She did not dislike him as Bettina Graham did; indeed Peggy rarely disliked any one. And Ralph had been coming to their place in New Hampshire for a portion of his holidays for several years. He was ordinarily sweet-tempered and obliging and his affectations and lack of interest in serious matters only amused Peggy, if she happened to think of them at all, while they made Bettina angry.

“Oh, I am showing the West how the thing ought to be done,” he answered with equal good temper, surveying himself with a not unpleasant vanity. For Ralph was extraordinarily good looking – rather too much so to be desirable in a man, according to some ideas. In spite of the fact that it was morning, Ralph was wearing a tennis costume of such amazing perfection that he suggested a magazine advertisement.

“I thought you would soon get tired of roughing it on Mr. Gardener’s ranch,” Peggy went on. “After a while, Ralph, you will have surveyed all human occupations and found none of them worth the effort of pursuing, won’t you?”

Ralph laughed. “I say, Peggy, that is unworthy of you. Such severity should have come from Bettina Graham. Why can’t you think I left the Gardener ranch in order to be nearer the Camp Fire girls, even if you are not enthusiastic over my society? By the way, Terry Benton and Howard Brent are here with me for a few weeks. They both felt a holiday was due them, and naturally, as I was so near, I wished to see the Grand Canyon.”

Peggy nodded. “I am glad Howard Brent is with you, I like him.”

This also was characteristic of Peggy Webster. Most girls would not have been willing to be so straightforward in expressing an interest. But really it did not occur to Peggy that she should not state her liking for Howard Brent as freely as if he had been a girl; and, of course, there was no reason why she should not.

However, Ralph felt slightly annoyed. He was accustomed to being both admired and flattered by his girl acquaintances. Even Bettina Graham’s dislike of him was more agreeable than Peggy’s good-natured indifference.

Moreover, Peggy’s expression had at this instant changed, as she went quickly forward to greet the two young men who were advancing toward them.

“It is awfully good luck to have you so near our camp again; I hope you will both come over to see us,” Ralph heard her say the moment after she had shaken hands with the newcomers. She had not suggested a visit to him.

Howard Brent and Terry Benton in a lesser degree were types of men whom Peggy might have been expected to admire.

Howard Brent was the son of an Arizona ranchman and was himself one. He was a big, strong, fearless fellow of about twenty; having spent most of his life outdoors, he was nearly as dark in appearance as Peggy herself and almost as straightforward. Terry, of course, was an Irishman and, although he also lived outdoors, he had the Irish subtleties and the ability to laugh at himself, which Peggy could not at this time of her life understand.

A short time after, while the little group of four were continuing to talk, Dan Webster came out from the hotel. Ralph Marshall introduced him to his two friends and straightway they fell into a discussion of future plans.

Dan was younger than the other men and had never been west before. But he had spent his life in the New Hampshire woods and was devoted to outdoor sports. Moreover, he was tremendously grateful and enthusiastic over the suggestion of his two new acquaintances, that he join them in the hunting and tramping expeditions which they were then planning.

He knew Ralph Marshall, of course, and they were friendly enough, but had no particular liking for each other.

“You are not going to join in these strenuous enterprises, are you, Ralph?” Peggy asked as she and Dan were about to climb back into their wagon to return to their own camp.

“Why not?” Ralph demanded, flushing a little, not so much from Peggy’s tone, which had been nothing but friendly, but from the attitude which he suspected in the other three men.

“Oh, for no reason at all,” Peggy returned quickly, “only that I thought you liked other amusements better. You know I don’t think a great deal of trying to destroy things, although so long as I like to eat what Dan kills I suppose I can’t criticise his hunting.”

In her first speech Peggy had had no idea of hurting Ralph’s feelings, or even his self-esteem, which is what people are apt to hurt in us. Therefore, appreciating the fact that he seemed a little uncomfortable, she had attempted to change the subject. Moreover, in saying good-bye she gave her hand last to Ralph, looking at him with an appeal for forgiveness for her unconscious awkwardness. Under the circumstances she found it impossible to apologise openly.

Ralph Marshall had not Peggy’s generosity of nature. He said good-bye with perfect politeness, but the girl still felt that he was chagrined.

“Bully girl, isn’t she? As good a sport I should think as the best kind of a fellow!” Howard Brent exclaimed after Dan and Peggy had driven off.

For a moment Terry Benton whistled softly before replying. Then, being an Irishman, he was a little enigmatic.

“They are made differently, aren’t they, girls? We men may be cut after the same pattern, but sometimes I believe no two girls are alike. Personally I like the old-fashioned types better. Peggy Webster would be the best kind of a comrade I expect, but somehow I suppose, being Irish, I could stand for a little more sentiment than she possesses.”

In point of fact Terry was then thinking of Sally Ashton, by whom, since their first meeting, he had been strongly attracted. But there was no distinction in this, as Sally attracted most men. She also made most of them believe that she was filled with exquisite, womanly emotions, when, in reality she had not half the hidden depth of feeling that Peggy’s finer and more sincere nature concealed.

Ralph Marshall had been listening to his two friends, without entering into the conversation, but he now shrugged his shoulders.

“Oh you and Benton are both wrong, Brent; girls are all alike. It is only that they are better actresses than men are and can appear to be different. I’ll bet Peggy Webster is as sentimental and as vain as most of them. I’ll wager I can prove it to you. She is an only girl and has lived surrounded by an adoring family. I don’t suppose she has ever had any man pay her the least attention. If she had she would be like all the rest.”

Terry Benton laughed. “Friend Ralph is a trifle annoyed, isn’t he? Hasn’t Mistress Peggy been sufficiently impressed? Anyhow, Marshall, you can be pretty sure she will never change her temperament for either of us.”

Ralph shrugged his shoulders.

“Oh, I don’t know. I’ll bet you a hundred I could make her like me if I tried hard enough.”

“Taken,” Terry Benton replied quickly.

Until this moment Howard Brent had been silent during the conversation which his own words had innocently provoked. However, his face had crimsoned and he was now looking rather angry.

“You men are a couple of – oh, you know well enough what I would like to call you without my saying the word,” he added. “But, in any case, kindly don’t consider me a third in this transaction. It is rather hard luck to have had to stay and hear this much of your conversation.” He turned angrily away.

Terry Benton followed him.

“Oh, don’t take a joke so seriously, Howard. Marshall is ridiculous about himself, although he is a fine enough chap in some ways. I only took up that proposition of his because I thought it would be a good thing for him to lose. He needs to be taken down by a Peggy or two.”

Although the two men were walking away, it was still possible for Ralph Marshall to overhear what they were saying. He felt fairly uncomfortable.

He had spoken at first without any particular realization of the significance of his words and without any direct intention of involving himself in a wager, which certainly appeared objectionable upon the face of it. Then, as often happens, the situation had gotten beyond him.

He wished now that he had never mentioned Peggy. It was bad form for men to discuss a girl with other men, and certainly it was a good deal worse form to have made so absurd a bet concerning one. It was Benton’s own fault. He should not have taken him up so quickly; he should have understood that he had spoken without thinking.

Nevertheless Ralph was not sure that he would not still like to prove to Terry that he could make good.

CHAPTER VII

A Study in Temperaments

“But, Vera, you must not continue waiting on Billy in this fashion; he is ever so much better and perfectly able to look after himself.”

Mrs. Webster had just walked across from where she had been sitting with her sister sewing, to a particularly beautiful spot where Vera Lageloff and Billy Webster had been spending the afternoon together. It had been cool during the morning but, with the coming of the afternoon, the sun had shone clearly and warmly.

Vera and Billy had chosen a place near the foot of the hill, down which ran the stream of water that supplied the camp, and near the tiny lake which the Camp Fire girls had conventionally named their wishing well.

Here, in spite of the warm weather, they had built a small camp fire, for there was a quantity of wood from the pine trees nearby.

They had been together for an hour or so, and Mrs. Webster had just observed Vera make the third trip to their group of tents and then return to Billy.

She was standing now with her arms filled with papers and magazines, which she had just secured.

Vera laughed. “Oh, Billy hates to move, and I don’t,” she replied a little apologetically.

But Billy, who should have been the apologetic one, did not appear so in the least.

He was sitting on an Indian blanket which had been spread by Vera before their small fire, smiling placidly at his mother and friend.

“Don’t you think people ought to be allowed to do what they like, Mother?”

Billy did not ask this question in a humorous fashion, as one might suppose under the circumstances, but quite seriously. However, Billy nearly always appeared serious, and yet one never could be sure what spirit hid itself behind his large, abstracted blue eyes.

Mrs. Webster sighed as she sat down beside him. Billy was the least satisfying of her three children and she made no pretense of understanding him. Yet his illness and his physical need of her brought him nearer to her than any one in the world.

“I think people ought to do what they like only when they can be perfectly fair to others at the same time,” she answered gently.

This time Billy smiled. “If one is wanting a thing very hard for oneself, it is not always easy to remember other people; although, of course, it is right,” he agreed unexpectedly. “Still I don’t believe I am doing Vera any serious injustice. She does a great deal more of the Camp Fire work than any of the other girls, and yet none of you realize it. The difference between us is that I do realize what she does for me.”

Vera had also taken a place on the ground with her two companions and Billy now reached over and took hold of her hand.

There was nothing sentimental or emotional in the unusual friendship between the boy and girl, although their devotion to each other was so apparent, and neither ever made the least effort at concealing it. But it was the kind of affection that sometimes exists, even if but rarely, between a brother and sister, and only when the sister is older and the brother unusual.

Vera’s hand was the larger of the two, or at least it appeared so, because the palm was broad and the fingers long and capable. It was the hand of a person whose ancestors had worked with their hands, while Billy’s hand was extraordinarily thin and delicate, with blue veins and long tapering fingers. Vera continued to hold it in hers as unconsciously as a mother might have done.