CHAPTER XIII
The Eternal Feminine
This morning there seemed to be a great deal of activity about the new Sunrise Hill camp. But then, no matter how people may talk of leading the simple life, there still remains a good deal of work to be done to make even the simple life agreeable.
The four tents stood in a kind of half circle in front of the small group of pine trees, which had influenced the choice of the camping site. Before the central tent was a tall totem pole, as yet uncolored and uncarved, which was later to record the experiences of the Arizona Sunrise Camp Fire club. It had been purchased from an Indian wood carver and had a strange head on top, resembling a sardonic American eagle.
Below and beyond the chosen mesa, and some distance off, lay Cottonwood Creek. The creek, fringed with tall cottonwood trees, was nearly a mile in length. To the south lay the Gardener ranch and toward the west the beginning of the desert, with the Hopi reservations farther on.
This morning, half a dozen yards from the kitchen tent, the camp fire was burning, and above it hung a huge iron pot.
Nearby, peering through a pair of large round glasses, Alice Ashton was engaged in studying a recipe book. The book had been compiled in Boston and Alice was baking beans for lunch. As the book had been a present from her mother to the Camp Fire club, Alice, although she knew exactly how the beans should be done, preferred resorting to it, as she always did to the wisdom of the printed page.
Ellen Deal was endeavoring to render her assistance but evidently her services were not desired. Nearly a month having passed with the Camp Fire club in Arizona, Ellen and Alice had become great friends. Alice conceded that the other girl had a scientific mind and was an authority on health but, when it came to baking beans, Boston must remain pre-eminent.
Mrs. Burton, sitting under one of the pine trees in her favorite place and reading a lot of mail, now and then glanced about her.
Alice’s earnestness was amusing—what a contrast she and Sally were, although they were sisters with only two years difference in their ages.
There were a good many letters—two from her husband, one from her sister, Mrs. Webster, and another from her beloved Betty Graham in Washington.
Mr. Simpson had driven to the post-office box on the Gardener ranch and returned with the mail only half an hour before. Since then he had been engaged in digging at the pathway up the side of their mesa, so as to make the ascent less difficult for the campers.
“Marie!” Polly called. But when Marie did not answer, she did not call a second time. What was it about their kind, ugly guide that seemed to inspire her maid with a kind of viciousness? Marie had just marched to the side of the mesa and was at this moment shaking Indian blankets just above Mr. Simpson’s head, while he devotedly dug and chiseled at their trail.
Marie did look ridiculously picturesque in her French maid’s costume of black and white, waving the brilliant, many-colored Indian blankets in the breeze, like some small insect with wings all too big, which seemed for the moment about to carry her over the cliff.
Mr. Simpson must have been amused also, for he climbed up his own steps to speak to her, and Mrs. Burton did not hear what he said, but saw Marie flounce and toss her head after his remark.
No one of the other girls was in sight at present.
Vera, Peggy and Bettina had taken one of the burros and gone off to stroll along the creek and gather wood which they stacked on the burro’s back for the camp fire. Sally, who was the acknowledgedly lazy one of the Camp Fire girls, was probably off pretending to read somewhere, and Gerry might possibly be with her.
But the Camp Fire guardian was glad to feel that no one was far away and that things were comparatively peaceful. Indeed, except for Bettina’s accident some little time before, which had amounted to almost nothing, they had spent several delightful weeks at camp. Now and then they, of course, took trips about the country and had seen several of the smaller nearby villages; also they had visited one of the petrified forests, but there had been no difficulties which were not amusing. And the girls seemed to be growing more friendly under the influence of the Camp Fire club life.
Polly was thinking of these facts with a degree of quiet satisfaction. Her husband’s, her friends’ and her sister’s letters had all faintly suggested possible complications. None of them appeared sure of her as a safe and sane Camp Fire guardian, no matter how good her intentions. Her husband naturally was uneasy about her health, realizing she had much responsibility to which she was unaccustomed, while Betty and Mollie were uneasy over their only daughters. Mollie really could be forgiven, for Billy had been ill for several weeks and she herself was worn with nursing. She wrote that he seemed to have greatly missed Vera’s companionship. And Mrs. Burton wondered what her eccentric little nephew could find in the companionship of the quiet Russian girl.
But at this moment she saw Gerry at some little distance off coming across the sands and then more slowly climbing up the steps of the mesa.
She looked very fair and sweet as she came across the trail. She wore no hat and her pale yellow hair was the color of corn silk. It was tied back loosely with a band of ribbon and she wore an ordinary morning camp fire costume. Gerry had not yet gotten beyond the first order of the camp fire.
Her hat, however, was filled with lovely wild flowers, which she cast at once into her Camp Fire guardian’s lap.
“This is my morning tribute, dear lady,” she began. “I have been wandering about looking for them for you.”
Now Polly Burton was aware that Gerry always flattered her, but she did not dream for a moment that this had anything to do with her especial fondness for her. There was an unusual bond between them—one which she had not yet confided to the other girls and probably would not until their camp fire days were over. Besides this, Gerry did seem to have a particularly sweet nature, even though the usually reasonable Peggy did not like her. But, then, the other girls did, and Peggy was a little spoiled and apt to be too blunt. She and Gerry would become more friendly later, was always her aunt’s conclusion.
“Were you alone, Gerry?” Mrs. Burton asked. “You know I would rather you girls did not go far from camp by yourselves. This country is too unfamiliar to all of us.”
But she picked up the flowers and held them lovingly against her face. They had not the usual fragrances, but a kind of aromatic sweetness.
“Oh, I wasn’t alone all the time,” Gerry replied evasively, although the older woman did not notice this. “I followed Vera and Peggy and then came back along the creek.”
“But what about Bettina?” Polly asked carelessly, “I thought she went with the other two girls.”
She was not especially interested in her own question, for she was really thinking of her husband. But something in Gerry’s manner at this instant arrested her attention.
Gerry had not answered, but instead had turned her face and was gazing at the landscape.
“Where was Bettina?” Mrs. Burton asked more sharply, annoyed simply because Gerry had not replied to her question.
Then Gerry turned slowly around.
“She started with the other girls, but said she was tired and sat down to rest under one of the trees by the creek. On my way back I saw that Tewa had joined her there. I did not know you expected him at camp today. He has been here twice already this week to tell us Indian stories. I sometimes wonder how he manages to come so far.”
“Oh, that is no concern of ours,” Mrs. Burton returned lightly, “so long as you girls are interested in what he has to tell us. And Bettina seems to be more entertained than any one else.”
Gerry laughed a curious little laugh and then stopped abruptly.
She was sitting on the ground facing Polly, with her hands clasped gracefully over her knees and her head tilted back so that her blue eyes were upturned.
“I wonder if you will be cross with me, dear lady, if I say something to you?” she asked with a slight flush and tightening of her lips, which were rather thin.
Still Polly was not paying serious attention to her companion.
“Why should I be angry, Gerry? I have not been with you so far in our acquaintance, dear. You have been a more satisfactory Camp Fire girl than I believed you could be at the beginning. Besides, I made up my mind that if I was permitted to be a Camp Fire guardian, I must reform my own temper before I could influence the girls. So fire away, Gerry, and test me,” she ended lightly, slipping her letters back into the envelopes, but glancing at them again as she did so.
Yet Gerry did not speak at once.
“I was just wondering if you knew how intimate Bettina and your Indian protégé are,” she said finally, “and if you mind? It seems odd to me when you were not willing to have Terry Benton continue as our guide, when he was a nice American fellow. And this Indian——”
Impulsively Gerry reached out and took hold of Polly’s hand, looking at her with a kind of playful apology.
“I don’t mean to criticise you, you know. I would never do that, and besides, I wouldn’t dare anyhow. But I feel you cannot have noticed their friendship. It is only because I realize Bettina does not understand some things as I do; has never been up against the world as I have that——”
“Be quiet, Gerry.”
Undeniably Mrs. Burton’s amiability, which she had announced as necessary to her Camp Fire work, had suddenly vanished.
“One thing I shall never allow in my Camp Fire club is for one girl to talk to me unkindly of another. If Bettina is friendly to Tewa it is because she is grateful to him, as I am. He is an unusual fellow and she may help him with his education. I am afraid, Gerry, you do not understand just who Bettina is, nor who her father and mother are.”
Polly hesitated. After all, Gerry’s influences had been so different. She must not be too angry with her.
“Don’t let me hear any suggestions of this kind again about any one of the Camp Fire girls,” she ended more kindly. “It is because I want you to forget a good deal of nonsense that I brought you out here with us.”
Gerry said nothing and, getting up, Polly laid her hand lightly on Gerry’s head.
“Let us forget this past few moments altogether—both of us,” she suggested, and walked away.
She had seen Bettina and Tewa strolling slowly away from the neighborhood of Cottonwood Creek toward their mesa. Bettina was nearly as tall as the Indian and in her picturesque camp fire costume, did not look out of place beside her companion.