The Camp Fire Girls at the End of the Trail

This was his opportunity, nevertheless Ralph evaded it.

“Oh, I have had a disagreeable letter from the governor,” he answered. “Every once and a while father gets down on me and writes that he will cast me off with the proverbial penny, if I don’t find out what kind of work I want to do and start at it. Sometimes it isn’t an easy job to be the only son of a self-made man. When a man thinks he has made himself he is apt to think he can make everybody else do his way.”

“Do you hate the thought of work so much, Ralph?” Mrs. Burton queried.

She did not speak in a disagreeable fashion, merely in a questioning one.

And Ralph Marshall found himself fascinated, watching the color and warmth in her face.

“Do you know I am awfully sorry for people who feel in that way. I don’t suppose you can realize this while you are young, but, as one grows older, doing one’s work is half the joy of living. Still, I don’t mean to preach. I believe the girls say, the fact that I don’t is my chief value as a Camp Fire guardian.”

“I wish you would preach to me,” Ralph answered, “or at least let me talk to you. Because a fellow does not say anything, you need not think he does not realize what a wonderful person you are! It must be great to be famous and to know you have done it all yourself. As for me, it isn’t that I hate work. I don’t know anything about it. The difficulty is getting down to finding out what I want to do.”

Polly Burton nodded, just as Polly O’Neill would have done, with a quick look of understanding.

“Sometimes it is hard luck being born rich, Ralph. But I wouldn’t let it be too much for me, if I were you. Start at anything that comes your way and afterwards you’ll find the right thing. Do you mind my quoting something to you? You see it is my business to repeat what other people write.”

Ralph did not seem to think acquiescence on his part necessary.

This was the first conversation he had ever held alone with Mrs. Burton and he was entirely under the spell of her personal charm. And yet it seemed extraordinary to him that so great a personage could be so simple and unaffected.

Mrs. Burton also took his agreement for granted, for she went on:

“I learned the verse for Billy’s and Dan’s delectation, but I am trying it first on you. I don’t suppose you have read an extraordinary but uncomfortable book called ‘The Spoon River Anthology?’”

Mrs. Burton naturally made no effort at recitation, which, under the circumstances, would have been ridiculous. She merely repeated the verse as any one else would have done, except that it was impossible for her to change the beautiful quality of her voice.

“My boy, wherever you are,Work for your soul’s sake,That all the clay of you, all the dross of you,May yield to the fire of you,Till the fire is nothing but light!Nothing but light!”

To his amazement Ralph Marshall felt tears in his eyes.

“Mrs. Burton, I want to tell you something,” he announced as unexpectedly to himself as to her.

Then, without attempting in any way to exonerate himself, Ralph Marshall told the story of his wager and the effort he had made to win Peggy’s liking, in order to gratify his own vanity.

“It is a nice sensation to find you are a cad, Mrs. Burton, and that the girl you have more respect and more liking for than any other you have ever known thinks so too. Besides, I have recently been informed of the fact by Howard Brent and, as I happened to agree with his judgment of me, I couldn’t very well argue the question with him to my own satisfaction.”

“No,” Mrs. Burton replied, “you couldn’t well argue a fact.”

She was extremely angry with Ralph herself as he told his story.

She would have been scornful in any case, but that he should have chosen Peggy as his game was a little more than her spirit could endure.

But a few moments later she was really sorry for her companion.

Ralph attempted no apology, or excused himself by extenuating circumstances.

“Oh well, Ralph, you need not look as if you had committed all the crimes in the calendar. All of us fall from grace now and then; only, if I were you, I wouldn’t chose this kind again.”

Mrs. Burton had risen from her chair.

“I can’t wait for that tiresome doctor any longer. I think I want to send a telegram, although I am actually not yet sure.”

Her lips twitched with a slightly whimsical grimace at herself. But Ralph Marshall had scarcely noticed her words or her expression.

“Do you think there is anything I can do to make up in any way, Mrs. Burton?” he asked. “Of course, I don’t expect Peggy to have faith in me or care for my friendship again. But I would like to be of some service to one of you, principally for my own self-respect,” he added. “But, of course, there is nothing I can do. I am not much good because Peggy actually saved me from falling the other day, when it should have been the other way round.”

Mn. Burton was thinking quickly, as she usually did.

“There is a favor you can do for me, Ralph; I have just thought of it,” she answered. “I know I can trust you to keep what you find out a secret, and Peggy will appreciate it as well. Don’t allow yourself to think that, because you were capable of doing one ugly thing, you are capable of continuing to do them. That impression has ruined many a human being.

“My extremely trying nephew, Billy Webster, has lately turned himself into a mystery. I think his mother and I have the right to know where he goes each day and what he is doing. He refuses to tell us. If you will find out and not speak of it, except to me, I don’t think it will be playing unfair with Billy, and it may save us all a good deal. But I’ll try to have a talk with the young man tonight, to persuade him to confide in me. In any case will you come over to camp early in the morning, Ralph? I won’t telegraph – at least I won’t telegraph today. I’ll leave a message at the desk for the doctor.”

But, at this instant, the hotel physician entered the room.

CHAPTER XVI

The Pine, Not the Olive

Peggy Webster had her arms filled with pine branches when she met Ralph Marshall coming toward Sunrise camp the following day.

She had gone a short distance into the woods for some light twigs for the camp fire, as the supply had gotten low.

She was walking with her head thrown back to keep the pine needles from touching her face, although their fragrance always thrilled her. They were so spicy, so woodsy, so redolent of a fine sweetness that had no cloying element in it. Surely the pine was a wise choice for the Camp Fire emblem. If a girl can grow into a woman keeping the same kind of spiritual fragrance that the pine tree sheds as a physical one, she has no reason to fear that her value may ever fail.

Peggy had not seen Ralph since the afternoon of his uncomfortable confession and she had not made up her mind just how she should meet him. So now her eyes widened and her lips parted a little; she was already flushed from the exertion of her work and the weight of the burden she carried.

But Peggy spoke naturally enough, as she would have done to any acquaintance, although the past sensation of pleasure she had felt at any chance meeting with Ralph had gone.

Ralph came forward and quietly extended his hands for pine branches and, in spite of the fact that Peggy hesitated, he took the greater number of them from her. A few of the twigs broke and fell on the ground.

“I came over to camp this morning because Mrs. Burton asked me to come, Peggy; otherwise I would not have intruded upon you,” he declared.

The girl shook her head.

“I have not the faintest desire to keep you away from Sunrise camp, Ralph. Indeed, I would be sorry if you let me interfere with your actions in any way. The other girls like you a great deal and I am sure would miss seeing you.”

Ralph did not answer. He had noticed that Peggy had said “other girls,” but also that she had spoken without a pretense of wishing to impress him with the knowledge of her disfavor or her change of attitude toward him. She had spoken with perfectly unconscious sincerity and Ralph Marshall appreciated that, for once in his life at least, he had known a girl who said what she meant. Peggy’s expression “other girls” had really been a slip on her part, as she had not intended bringing herself into the situation in any way.

At camp they parted, Peggy going to announce to her aunt that Ralph wished to see her. And a few moments later Mrs. Burton appeared.

Ralph had been talking to Gerry and Sally, while he was forced to wait, and as they were determinedly planning an excursion in which he was to take part that afternoon, he had to be rescued by Mrs. Burton.

It was never possible to talk with any privacy in the immediate neighborhood of the camp. The girls were constantly going in and out of their tents, rebuilding the camp fire, or doing any one of a hundred things in connection with their work or entertainment. This morning Mrs. Webster was also sewing in front of the fire, with Dan coming back and forth to talk to her.

Ralph Marshall did not see Billy Webster, but, as he had rather a fashion of remaining alone, this did not mean that he had actually vanished from camp.

“Suppose we walk in the direction of the cliffs, Ralph,” Mrs. Burton suggested and then, almost as soon as they had started, she added:

“Yes, Billy has gone; he left before breakfast this morning so there could be no chance of a family argument. Dan says he slipped out of their tent without his knowing when he departed. And this, after I had expended an hour of precious eloquence upon the young man last night, sitting up with him when everybody else had gone to bed, and I was abominably sleepy.”

Mrs. Burton shrugged her shoulders, expressing amusement and chagrin, as well as anxiety.

“I am afraid I haven’t the slightest influence with him; but, then, no one else has – or perhaps I don’t know. I asked Vera if she thought she could influence him and she assured me she could not. She says my sister is mistaken in thinking that she influences Billy; he has always influenced her, although she is older and infinitely more sensible. But, Ralph, I only tell you this about Billy, because I want you to know something of the character of the boy you may have to deal with, if you succeed in doing what I ask of you. I know you have never noticed Billy particularly; few people do at first when Dan is around. Dan is so much better looking and more agreeable. But Billy is the stronger character of the two, strange as it seems to all of us. But whether for good or the other thing,” Mrs. Burton smiled a little ruefully, “I suppose if we live long enough we may find out. No gentleman could have been more courteous to me than my nephew was last night, or more utterly unmoved by my efforts at persuasion or command.

“There is just one thing we have to rely on in order to save Billy from what may turn into a real difficulty. Vera Lageloff has confided in me that she and Billy one afternoon discovered a group of objectionable men. I don’t know anything about them, except that they were on a strike or something of the kind, and that you and Peggy had met them by accident a short time before. But Billy has a passion for the unfortunate. He had only to hear that people are up in arms against something or some one and he is always in the midst of them.

“It was curious, but whenever the laborers on my brother-in-law’s place had any kind of grievance, they first put the matter up to Billy before taking it to his father. And you know Mr. Webster well enough to understand that he is the most just of men.”

Mrs. Burton had been walking slowly along but she now stopped and frowned, facing her companion.

“I don’t know why but I am frightened. I am afraid Billy is mixing himself up in some difficulty in which he has not the slightest concern, or the least reason for taking part in. And Vera is under the same impression, else she would never have told me what she did. She says Billy made her promise not to speak of their excursion, and she hated breaking her word to him. But she, too, is nervous about him and thinks we ought to find out what he is doing. Of course, we may both be on the wrong track. The boy may be off amusing himself somewhere in a perfectly simple fashion. But if you will only find out, Ralph, I shall be everlastingly grateful. I am pretty fond of Billy, though I don’t understand him and he certainly annoys me.”

Ralph smiled in an entirely efficient and satisfying manner.

“Oh, I expect you take the young man too seriously, Mrs. Burton. All boys have cranks of one kind or another, though I must confess Billy’s do not seem to be the ordinary kind. Don’t worry any more; I’ll find him for you and bring him home by the ear. Oh, I don’t mean literally; only from what you have told me I expect the youth takes himself too seriously. He has been ill so much he is probably more or less spoiled. I think the influence of an older fellow may do him good. I am accustomed to taking kinks out of the younger boys at college now and then, when they suffer from swell heads.”

Ralph spoke in a condescending, elderly brother tone which amused Mrs. Burton, although she showed no sign of it. Instead, she gave a little sigh of relief.

“But please be careful, won’t you, Ralph,” she added. “Billy isn’t like other people and he does have to be treated a little differently. Oh, I know you men don’t think this of each other, and Billy’s father will not consider the idea for a moment. But I think if he had talked to Billy more frankly, and asked him to wait a while before he decided so many questions for himself, the boy would not be so difficult.

“Let’s go back now, Ralph, as we have talked over the situation and said as much as there is to say. I don’t suppose you can do anything immediately; but, if, within the next few days you make any kind of discovery, suppose you let me know first. I really am worried over Billy’s realizing I have tried to spy upon him. I should have been dreadfully angry with any one who had done the same thing to me when I was his unreasonable age.”

“Oh, I don’t think Billy will have anything to complain of,” Ralph replied, as if Billy’s attitude held not the slightest interest for him. “And I don’t think I need be forever tracing the young person either – not if he has fallen in with the group Peggy and I met.

“Fortunately, I know where they can be found if they have not disappeared from their camping place. But what there can be in those fellows to interest a youngster, I can’t see.

“I wonder if your man will lend me a burro? I walked over from my hotel, and I think I’ll start out on the trail at once.”

Ralph was really interested in his quest. There was an agreeable element of mystery in it as well as knight errantry. Besides, an older fellow is seldom averse to making a younger one feel small, when he happens to think it good for him. Moreover, Ralph had been considerably out of sorts with himself for several days and it is always pleasanter to dwell on another’s shortcomings.

As soon as Mr. Simpson had allowed him the use of one of the camp ponies for the day, Ralph started off at a leisurely pace.

After all, it was rather good fun to have something definite to do, instead of idling all one’s time. And if one was accomplishing a favor for either Mrs. Burton or Peggy Webster, why all the more was the effort worth while. Billy Webster really played a very small part in Ralph Marshall’s thoughts.

CHAPTER XVII

The Passionate Pilgrim

Ralph Marshall’s pilgrimage was in vain. When he reached the place where the men had been in hiding, every trace of them had disappeared. He might have thought that he had made a mistake in the spot, except that there were marks on the ground where the camp fire had been, and he clearly remembered the circle of small hills.

After remaining in the neighborhood for half an hour or more and seeing no human being, Ralph knew that his task was not to be so easily accomplished. But he had no inclination to return and loiter about his hotel. Even failure was better than boredom, and the last few days had been intensely dull. Ralph was weary of sightseeing and seldom took an interest in viewing things alone. He was no longer friendly with Terry Benton and Howard Brent, whose expressed opinions of him had not been flattering. And, in spite of Peggy’s generosity, he felt himself cut off from the companionship of the Camp Fire girls.

Perhaps Ralph did not realize it, but the fact was that he did not care for the society of the other girls, now that Peggy’s was denied him.

Moreover, even if it were but slight, an ambition had been stirred in him by Mrs. Burton. Actually he wanted to succeed in what she had asked him to do. Rarely in his life had he been stirred by this emotion, except perhaps by the desire to win a game of tennis, or be elected to some special college fraternity.

Getting on his burro again, Ralph started off in another direction. He knew that he was traveling toward the line of railroad and supposed he would find more signs of life there. Certainly he could not discover less. It was also possible that he might run across some one who would have known of the dissatisfied men and might at least offer a suggestion as to what had become of them.

Of course, in finding the strikers one would not necessarily obtain information of Billy Webster’s proceedings. But, so long as one was under the impression that he might be spending his time in their society, they must first be hunted out. Afterwards, if Billy were not with them, then one could pursue some other idea.

After reaching the railroad line, Ralph jogged along on the road that ran alongside of it.

The road had been cut through somewhat more open country, nevertheless he met no one in passing. At present it was past noon, but, although Ralph was usually fond of his own comfort, it had not yet occurred to him that his prospect for food was a very poor one.

Then, half an hour later, when he was not in the least expecting to reach any such place, Ralph came upon a railroad station. There was a small frame building beside a platform and near it a typical western grocery store, which means that it held a great many other things beside groceries.

Ralph was feeling tired and a little hungry. If he was to continue riding about the country all day in this vague fashion, it would be as well to secure food for himself when he could. There was never yet a country store without cheese and crackers.

Ralph tied his pony to the hitching post and strolled up to the door of the store. The door was partly open and he could see a man inside who was probably a customer, as he did not appear to be the proprietor, and was talking with some one.

Ralph walked in and the man stopped talking. He was smoking a short pipe and looked curiously at the newcomer. Ralph’s appearance was a surprise. He looked so exactly like the old-fashioned western phrase which described the Eastern youth as a “tenderfoot.” Ralph’s riding costume was too new, too clean and too fashionable ever to have seen real service. But he knew how to make himself acceptable to most people.

He bowed a curt but friendly nod to the other man as he moved up toward the counter.

“I am a stranger in this part of the country,” he announced, “and I have been riding all morning. I wonder if you can let me eat a little something here?”

The grocery keeper was friendly enough and began shoving out the various supplies that the newcomer had asked for, conscious of the fact that he was a good customer.

Then Ralph climbed up on a stool and began eating his lunch and drinking ginger ale out of the glass bottle. He was enjoying himself a good deal more than he had at many a fashionable luncheon served at an expensive hotel.

By and by he turned to the other man who had not left the store.

“I wonder if you would have a bite with me?” he suggested. “I never did like having to eat alone.”

The man hesitated and then came forward.

“Don’t care if I do,” he answered in a somewhat surly fashion, but Ralph observed that he ate hungrily, and they had to have the supplies renewed a second time.

When they had finished they both strolled out of the store together and, without any discussion of the matter, sat down beside each other on the railroad platform. Each man looked as if he had no other interest or occupation in life except just to wait until a train passed by.

“There isn’t much excitement in this neighborhood, is there?” Ralph finally said.

His companion stared straight ahead of him.

“Oh, you can’t sometimes always tell just by the outside looks of things.”

Ralph hesitated a moment.

“Been any fun lately?” he inquired.

The man shook his head.

“Not much; nothing except some fellows been trying to blow up the track out this way. I’m on the lookout for them for the railroad, as I’m one of the company’s men.”

“Who are they and what is the matter?” Ralph asked, trying to show no especial interest beyond a perfectly natural one.

But his companion showed no sign of wishing to be secretive.

“Don’t know,” he returned. “If I did, I’d have had them out of mischief before this. There has been a gang of strikers hanging around somewhere in this neighborhood – no one knows the exact place. But there is no reason for suspecting them, except that they are down on the company. Funny, I’ve been watching around here for several days and haven’t even run across anybody to talk to before! At least no one but a boy who looked like he ought to be home with his mother.”

Ralph laughed.

“A kind of a tenderfoot like I am?”

The other man grinned.

“Oh, he was a good deal younger than you. We have so many travelers from the East out in this neighborhood now, that we have forgotten to call ’em ‘tenderfeet.’ This boy was a kid – a real kid – tall and sick looking, with light hair and blue eyes and nice manners.”

Ralph nodded.

“Funny, what was he doing around here? There is no hotel very near, is there?”

The older man shook his head.

“Not for several miles back. The boy said he was out here for his health and kind of liked to stay by himself. He said he would keep his eyes open for me. But he was a dreamy kind of kid. I don’t believe he would know trouble if he saw it.”

Ralph whistled.

“I don’t believe he would. Seen him lately?”

“This morning early.”

“Think he’ll come back this way?”

The man had refilled his pipe and was smoking.

“How’d I know?” he returned. “I ain’t seen him any time, except one or two mornings.”

The man then got up and stretched himself.

“Well, so long; I can’t waste any more time around here, much as I’d like to stay and talk. I’ve got to get up and down the track a piece. I wish you would keep an eye open on your way back.”

“Certainly,” Ralph answered, “only I’m not going back just yet. I am kind of tired and I thought I’d sit here awhile and rest.”

The two men nodded and the older one walked away.

Ralph waited for two hours. Then, as the man in the grocery store was beginning to look suspicious, he got up and strolled about. In the meantime the station master had reappeared, after having spent some time at his own midday meal.

Ralph tried to give him the impression that he was expecting some one on the next train.

But between four and five o’clock his patience gave out. It was either this, or he had lost all hope of Billy Webster’s returning the way he had evidently gone, not only this morning, but on several others.

Ralph then made up his mind to ask Mrs. Burton to allow him to remain all night at Sunrise camp.

The wanderer should not disappear the next day without his seeing him go.

CHAPTER XVIII

An Appeal

It was not particularly difficult as Billy had not the faintest suspicion that he was under surveillance. As he had planned beforehand in his own mind, Ralph followed him a few moments after his departure from camp a little after daylight the next day.

Both rode burros – the small, sure-footed ponies, which are used almost entirely in the western states where difficult climbing is to be accomplished. And, except for the pair of mules which were sometimes hitched to their provision wagon, the Sunrise Camp Fire party had no other steeds.

If any were required for their longer excursions they were rented from the hotel stables.