"Nita, Jua-a-an-ita, ask thy soul if we must part!"
came tremulously from Uncle Joe and the We are Sevens.
It was too much. Blue Bonnet collapsed in a heap on the grass.
"Oh, Alec!" she gasped. "Miguel ought to have been singing that,—only he ought to have said—'Jua-a-an-ita, bless my soul if we can part!'"
Twodays later Knight appeared at the table minus his sling, and announced that this must be his last day at the ranch. There were expressions of regret from everybody, and from Blue Bonnet vigorous objections. The boy quite glowed under the tribute.
"I simply must go," he protested firmly. "Though it's a big temptation to stay, I tell you. But it isn't fair to Uncle Bayard for me to be away any longer. Those twelve boys keep things moving for him. I hope you will be able to come up for one of our Sundays," he said to Mrs. Clyde.
"Grandmother has missed her church more than anything else," Blue Bonnet remarked. "It's been pretty warm to drive to Jonah, and none of the Padres has visited the ranch since we came."
"We have an outdoor service in a beautiful grove of trees," Knight explained, "and that setting and the boys' voices in the open air and all—well, it has spoiled me for stuffy meeting-houses. Can't you all come up and stay over next Sunday?" His glance and the eyes of all the We are Sevens were fastened anxiously on Mrs. Clyde's face.
She thought for a moment. "It seems a stupendous undertaking,—for so many of us," she said at length. Camping out in Texas was full of unknown and rather dreadful possibilities, she secretly opined.
"We'll take all the responsibility, Grandmother," Blue Bonnet assured her gravely.
Mrs. Clyde did not meet her granddaughter's eye; that young lady's method of taking responsibility was not such as to inspire one with unlimited confidence.
"I can send Miguel ahead with one of the cook-wagons," Uncle Cliff suggested. "You can have Pancho, too, if you like,—he cooked on the round-up this spring and didn't kill anybody. Lisa's too fat and Gertrudis too old for that ride."
"And we want Lupe for wrangler," said Blue Bonnet. "A wrangler looks after the horses, Sarahmia," she explained, anticipating the question.
"If we go," said Señora, "let us go as simply as possible. Surely we don't need such an army of men."
"But, Grandmother," Blue Bonnet protested, "there has to be a cook, and somebody to pitch tents, and one to look after the horses and—"
"I don't see the necessity. You miss half the pleasure of camping out if you have everything done for you. When I was a girl we used to camp out in the Maine woods, and we girls took turns cookingand washing dishes, while the boys gathered wood for the fires, caught fish and looked after the horses. To take a crowd of servants along would rob the life of all its simplicity."
Blue Bonnet looked rather blank. Cooking and washing dishes did not seem altogether simple to her.
"I can make caramel cake," announced Kitty.
"That's lovely—especially for breakfast," said Blue Bonnet.
"I don't like sweet things for breakfast," said Sarah.
"Beans and bacon are as good camp fare as one needs," said Knight. "It is pretty cool in the mornings and evenings, and one gets hungry enough to eat the dishes."
"We'll agree to anything if Grandmother will only go," said Blue Bonnet eagerly.
Grandmother, however, withheld her decision until she had held a serious conversation alone with Uncle Cliff.
"Don't you think you are encouraging Blue Bonnet in habits of extravagance?" she asked, smiling inwardly at the likeness of her question to some of Lucinda's.
Uncle Cliff pondered for a moment. "That depends on what you call 'extravagance.' According to my definition it means spending more than you can afford."
"Blue Bonnet is certainly spending a great deal this summer. It must cost something to keep up a big place like this, so many servants besides all the guests."
"Mexicans don't draw down princely salaries, you know," he argued. "And we're not used to counting noses at table. Besides, Blue Bonnet has enough to do just about as she likes with. Miss Clyde and I had some talk about it last winter—when she put the poor child on an allowance. Three dollars!" Mr. Ashe made a comical grimace. "Why, Mrs. Clyde, I've been putting by Blue Bonnet's profits every year for nearly sixteen years, and they've been pretty tidy sums, too. Besides, she's going to have every penny of mine, some day. And now she's old enough to enjoy spending, I don't quite see the use of making her skimp." He looked very much in earnest and ready to "have it out" then and there.
"But the possessors of wealth should be taught the value of money, just the same, don't you think so?" Mrs. Clyde urged.
"Surely!" he agreed. "And Blue Bonnet has a very fair idea of its value, I think. She gives more people a good time on it than any one I know. You never knew her to stay awake nights worrying over something for herself, now did you?"
"Blue Bonnet is not given to worrying over anything. Not that I wish her to. She is dear andwarm-hearted and generous like her mother, but a little heedless,—Lucinda thinks. She needs to be taught that wealth entails responsibility."
"Lucinda!" was Mr. Ashe's mental ejaculation. He might have known the source of Mrs. Clyde's arguments. Miss Clyde had undoubtedly sound ideas on the up-bringing of the young, and any amount of New England thrift. He had unlimited respect for her strength of character; but also his opinion as to why she was stillMissClyde. "Maybe I've a queer mental twist," he went on audibly, "but that's just what I don't see the need of. Poor folk have to worry about making ends meet; but if money is of any use at all it's to save one that kind of fretting. When one feels the 'responsibility of wealth,' then it's a burden. I'd hate to think Blue Bonnet would ever get to that pass."
Mrs. Clyde wished for Lucinda just at this moment; Miss Clyde could have met this argument with a worthy rejoinder, she was confident. "Don't you fear that thoughtless spending now may grow into future extravagance?" she asked rather helplessly.
"When the little girl begins to worry about bird-of-paradise aigrettes and pearl pendants for herself, I'll believe she's extravagant. As long as she spends only what she can afford and bestows it all upon others, I'll not begin to fret," he said decidedly.
"Then you don't think this camping-trip an extravagance? She is doing so much for the girls already that it seems rather unnecessary to me."
"It will be a wonderful experience for the girls—and they're just the right age to enjoy it most. A few years later they'll fuss about dirt and want springs on their beds."
Grandmother Clyde smothered a sigh; she had reached the latter stage, but perhaps it was not her place to "reason why." The conversation ended for the present, and during her stay on the ranch was not resumed.
As Uncle Cliff left the veranda after the conference, he was set upon by Blue Bonnet and Kitty and enticed to the lair of the We are Sevens, which chanced this time to be the summer-house in the Señorita's little garden. This rather shaky bower, overgrown by jack-beans which held together the would-be rustic structure, had once been the pride of Blue Bonnet's heart, but now, neglected—as was the garden since the advent of the ranch party—had become the residence of a large and growing family of insects. It served, however, as a very excellent spot for secret sessions such as the present one. A circular bench, very wobbly as to legs, had the advantage of bringing all the members face to face in solemn conclave. It was here their captive was haled.
"What says the noble Señora?" demanded Blue Bonnet, and then before he could answer she exclaimed—"Uncle Cliff, you must help us out. Life without that camping trip will be stale, flat and unprofitable."
"Oh, Blue Bonnet," said Sarah reproachfully, "how can you say that when we are having the most wonderful time that ever was?"
"Sarah, don't weaken our case," Blue Bonnet admonished her. "It's your place to look positivelypining!"
"If you'll allow me to speak," remarked Uncle Cliff, "I'll put an end to your suspense. The Queen Mother says she will sacrifice herself for the weal of her subjects."
"Hooray!" cried Blue Bonnet, and the cry was echoed even by Sarah.
Alec and Knight, hearing the uproar on their way to the house, stopped and begged permission to enter.
"Come right in and sit down on the floor," said Blue Bonnet cordially. "Alec, Grandmother says she'll go!"
"So that's what all the row's about?" asked Knight. "Say, but I'm glad!"
Alec's eyes shone. "Don't you think I'd better go ahead with Knight? I could pick out a camping place and have everything ready for you." He had been awaiting a favorable moment to bring forthhis quietly laid scheme, and the present seemed auspicious.
"I think that would be splendid," cried Blue Bonnet enthusiastically, reading Alec like a book. "But you'll wait and go with us, won't you, Uncle?"
"Can't go this trip. Pete has gone up with some of the boys to cut out a bunch of beef-cattle. I'll have to see to shipping them."
"Oh, Uncle,—we need you," remonstrated Blue Bonnet.
"And it's almost as good to be needed as it is to be wanted. Thank you."
"We want you even more than we need you," she insisted.
"You'll have plenty of men creatures to tyrannize over in camp. How many boys did you say there were, Knight?"
"There are twelve—and they know how to work, too."
"They'll be worked all right," said Uncle Cliff with a wicked twinkle.
"We must all work," said Sarah conscientiously. "I think we had better begin to plan things and get ready right away."
"The first thing to do," said Blue Bonnet, "is to make a huge lot of pinoche."
Sarah regarded her in astonishment. "Do you propose to live on pinoche?"
"No, goose, but with twelve boys in camp—not counting Alec and Knight, a pound won't go very far. And we must send to Jonah for marshmallows."
"Hadn't you better include several tons of angel-cake and fifty gallons or so of ice-cream?" asked Kitty.
"Just you wait, Kitty-Kat. When you see the use to which I put those marshmallows, you'll see that I'm the most practical member of the Club," Blue Bonnet prophesied solemnly.
"Grandmother, you're such a success," she said later, as they two sat discussing ways and means for the camping-trip.
"A success?" Mrs. Clyde questioned.
"As a grandmother, you know. If I'd had you made to order I wouldn't have had you a mite different! I hope our trip isn't going to be too hard for you. I promised Aunt Lucinda to take care of you, and I suspect sometimes that I'm not quite living up to the contract."
"We elderly people must guard against getting 'set in our ways.' Camp-life is certainly a good corrective for that." Mrs. Clyde smiled rather ruefully.
"It surely is," Blue Bonnet laughed. "It would never suit Aunt Lucinda. But she isn't sixty-five years young!"
"Nor fifteen years old."
"Was she ever? Somehow I can't imagine her different. It must give one a very—solid feeling, to be as sure about everything as Aunt Lucinda is. But she misses a lot of fun!"
Early the next morning Alec and Knight rode away; Knight looking very soldierly and capable now that his arm no longer reposed in its scarlet sling; Alec with his blankets in a business-like roll behind his saddle, and both boys provided with a "snack of lunch" to eat on the way. Alec's eyes were shining with anticipation; even Strawberry pranced more joyously than usual as though she knew a good time was in store.
The We are Sevens accompanied the travellers as far as Kooch's, and sent them off from that point weighted with injunctions and messages innumerable. That ride, even Sarah admitted, was a "grand and glorious" success; the air was fresh and sweet, Comanche very tractable, and everybody in the best of humors. The girls returned to the ranch full of plans for the camping trip, and for the rest of the day, and for several days following, made out exhaustive lists of eatables, bedding and utensils such as would have provided amply for a regiment of soldiers. In the midst of the preparations Sarah was caught red-handed packing her drawn-work among her effects.
"She'll have to be watched, girls," said Kitty. "White linen drawn-work on a camping-trip!Next she'll be slipping in white piqué skirts and dancing slippers."
"I suppose you'll object to my taking handkerchiefs, too?" Sarah's look was a mixture of irony and indignation.
"We ought really to bar all hankies except bandanas," said Blue Bonnet, "but we'll stretch a point for Sarah's sake. She can't help having aristocratic tastes, you know."
Sarah was secretly of the opinion that drawn-work was no more out of place than the many boxes of pinoche and marshmallows that Blue Bonnet packed away in the huge "grub-boxes," but she yielded with her usual good grace.
By Wednesday all was pronounced in readiness for the start. Miguel was sent ahead with tents and supplies in one of the big cook-wagons used on the round-ups; with help from Alec and Knight he was to have a camp ready for the rest of the party when they should arrive on the following day.
"I wish Grandmother were not so set on the 'simple life,'" remarked Blue Bonnet, "for I should like to take Juanita along. It's a pity to separate her and Miguel just now, when things are progressing so nicely."
"How do you know?" Kitty looked up quickly.
Blue Bonnet bit her lip. She and Alec had agreed not to tell of the incident of the lasso, and she had kept the secret, though she burned to tell the romance-lovingWe are Sevens. "Just by signs," she answered evasively.
But Kitty could read signs, too, and privately longed to shake the mystery out of her hostess. Suspecting the trend of little Miss Why's thoughts, Blue Bonnet went on hurriedly: "How shall we go—in the buckboard or on horse-back?"
"Horse-back!" exclaimed all four of the others.
"Did I hear you speak, Sarah?" Kitty inquired.
"You did if you were listening," replied Sarah calmly.
"I believe Sarah and Comanche have formed a real attachment for each other," said Blue Bonnet who secretly exulted in Sarah's growing spirit.
"It must be a patent attachment then," laughed Kitty, "—something that keeps Sarah on!"
"Grandmother will have to go in the buckboard—Uncle Joe's going to drive and—" Blue Bonnet did some hasty calculating, "I had better stay with Grandmother—it's smoother riding with two in a seat. Firefly will hate being led, but I reckon some disciplining won't hurt him."
They were up before dawn in order to complete the first stage of the journey before noon. As they gathered about the lamp-lighted table for breakfast, yawning and rubbing their eyes, Blue Bonnet gave an amused laugh.
"'InsummerI get up at nightAnd dress by yellow candle-light.'"
she quoted.
"I think it would have been a good plan to have had breakfast before we went to bed," said Sarah. "Thank you, Mrs. Clyde, I will take coffee, I think it will wake me up."
"Never mind," said Blue Bonnet. "You can just alter the lines a bit—
"'In camp it's quite the other way,We'll all go straight to bed by day'—
and make up for the loss of our beauty sleep. And you'll see something worth getting up for later. Sunrise on the prairie, Kitty, makes the Massachusetts article look like your pink lawn when it came back from the wash."
They were several miles from the ranch when Uncle Joe raised his quirt and pointed to the east. "There she comes!" he warned.
The whole crowd came to a standstill in the middle of the road in a hush that was almost reverent. Blue Bonnet drew a deep breath. The rolling prairie with the long grass stirred by the breeze; the peaceful herds just waking into life; the fleecy clouds glowing from buff to rosy pink—she loved it all.
At eleven every one was ravenous and a halt was made for lunch. From that point the journey washardly so pleasant; the road began to ascend sharply into the sturdy little range of hills that Texans proudly call mountains, and being less frequented than the county road, was rough and full of surprises in the way of snakes and insects. Sarah was just beginning to wonder if she could survive Comanche's next fright, when a loud "Whoa-o-o-pe!" sounded from somewhere above and ahead of them. Blue Bonnet answered immediately with the ranch-call which she and some of the cowboys had adapted years ago from one of Uncle Joe's old-time songs:
Music: O Ho ye ho ho!O Ho ye ho ho!
She had a strong, carrying voice, and the cheery summons of the Twickenham ferryman rang clearly on the air.
The next minute three riders emerged from the trees in whose shade they had been waiting, and galloped to meet the campers.
"It's Alec and Knight," Kitty called from the front. "And there's a girl with them!"
Blue Bonnet shot a quick glance at the approaching trio, and then gave a bounce of delight. That erect little figure, just about her own size, with the two pig-tails flying out behind her as she rode, could be no other than—Carita Judson.
Carita was not so quick at discovering her unknown friend; she gave a bashful, inquiring look at each one of the girls in turn. But as soon as she met Blue Bonnet's eye, full of an eager welcome, she rode straight to the side of the buckboard and held out a slim, brown hand. "You are—you must be—a Texas Blue Bonnet!"
"And you're Carita,—I'm so glad!" Blue Bonnet took the outstretched hand in both her own and gazed with frank pleasure into the girl's smiling face.
Knight came up beside them and presented his cousin to Mrs. Clyde and the other girls, and after a short but merry halt they prepared to move on. Camp was still at some distance and they must get settled before nightfall.
Sarah came up to the buckboard just as the others were starting. "Do you mind changing places with me, Blue Bonnet?" she asked. "I'm tired of riding."
The look Blue Bonnet gave her was ample reward for what Sarah feared was almost an untruth on her part. She scrambled out of the saddle in a manner that Blue Bonnet would have smiled at ordinarily, but now regarded with sober eyes. The other girls, without giving a thought to her natural wish for a few words with Carita had ridden on in a gay whirl of conversation; Sarah with a thoughtfulness that Blue Bonnet was beginning to believe unfailing,had been the only one to read her unspoken wish.
"Isn't Sarah the dearest?" she whispered to her grandmother.
And Mrs. Clyde, mindful of a former comment of Blue Bonnet's, smiled with amusement as she replied—"Not half bad—considering her bringing-up!"
Carita had lingered behind the others and now as she saw Blue Bonnet mount Comanche, she rode back and joined her. They were the last of the procession and practically alone.
"It's so wonderful," Carita's small dark face was alight with pleasure, "—to think of seeing you after—everything!"
They smiled into each other's eyes. Carita did not in the least resemble the Woodford girls. She wore a queer one-piece garment of blue denim, not designed for riding, which pulled up in a bunch on either side of the saddle, showing her feet in thick boyish boots, and an inch or two of much-darned stocking. On her head was an old felt sombrero, sadly drooping as to brim and dented as to crown, secured under her chin by a piece of black elastic. Below it her small face, brown and freckled as it was, was not without a singular attraction. Her eyes were big and soft, her lips scarlet as holly-berries; and the long braids were very heavy and of a glossy chestnut. In spite of her clumsy costumeshe rode her wiry little pinto as Western girls ride—thistle-down in the saddle. She was a bit of the prairie herself, and Blue Bonnet saw it and loved her.
"When did you come?" Blue Bonnet asked her.
"Yesterday. And we're to stay over Sunday. Won't we just have to cram the days full?" Carita's eyes were wistful. "For fear we sha'n't have much time alone, I want to tell you how much it has meant to me—your letters, and the dress and the Christmas box and everything. I can't begin to tell you the—difference they have made. We've always had boxes you know—father has no regular salary. But nothing ever came that was half so wonderful. Last winter wasn't a bit like others—it was full of excitement!"
Blue Bonnet smiled, but she felt nearer tears than laughter. Such a little thing to mean so much! For the second time she had a feeling of thankfulness that she was—not poor. Money was certainly worth while when it could give such pleasure. If Miss Lucinda could have read the girl's mind at this moment, she might have felt some doubts as to her niece's ability to profit by the last winter's lesson in New England thrift. Blue Bonnet's only regret was that her purse which had been slipped into the missionary box, had not contained several times as much!
"I was sure we'd know each other, some day—Ifelt it!" Carita went on in her eager way. "And I believe Knight's meeting you that day was providential!"
"It was certainly providential for Sarah and me," Blue Bonnet laughed. "We'd have had a pretty spill if it hadn't been for him. But as 'all's well that ends well,' we can consider that everything has been for the best."
"That sounds like father." It seemed to Blue Bonnet that Carita smothered a sigh. "Mother and I aren't always sure thateverythingis for the best. But father never has the least bit of doubt." Then with a quick return of animation—"I know you'll love the camp. Knight has picked out the loveliest spot for your tents. There—look! You can see the Spring, and that gleam of white through the trees—that's Camp Judson!"
"Oh, Blue Bonnet, do hurry!" cried Debby as Blue Bonnet galloped into camp. "It's the most wonderful place,—we can't wait for you to see it."
Blue Bonnet slipped from the saddle and flung the reins to Miguel.
"Show me everything!" she cried; and then not waiting to be shown, went from one tent to another in her usual whirlwind fashion.
"Our sleeping-tent," said Kitty; they were all trooping after the late-comer, chattering busily and explaining the most obvious arrangements. "That one's for you and the Señora; this one is the dining-room—see the table and benches Alec and Knight made! The kitchen is under that awning. Isn't that the darlingest stove?"
"And the little creek right handy!"
By the time she had completed her survey, Blue Bonnet was more enthusiastic than any one else. How she loved camping out!
The spot the boys had chosen for them was a beautiful one. Under two giant live-oaks whose branches interlaced overhead in a leafy canopy, thesleeping-tents were pitched, between them stretching an awning that formed both a dining-room and a lounging-place by day. The site had been used as a camping-ground before and still retained many conveniences installed by former campers; the underbrush had all been cut away, and the ground packed hard and level. For the kitchen, a canvas stretched between the camp-wagon and a convenient sycamore served as sufficient protection from sun and arboreal insects. The little sheet-iron stove, set up on a flat boulder, boasted an elbow in its pipe that could be adjusted to suit the direction of the wind.
A thread of a creek, tumbling down the hillside, ran not ten yards from the wagon, and at one point a tiny wooden trough had been inserted, giving the effect of a spout where kettles could be quickly filled. Alec and Knight had labored diligently to have all attractive as well as convenient, and really deserved great praise for the completeness of all details.
"Everything is perfect!" Blue Bonnet declared. "But we must have the buckboard seats in the—er—living-room. Uncle Cliff sent all three so that we could use them as easy chairs,—especially for Grandmo—why, where is she?"
"Here, dear," Mrs. Clyde came up with a tin dipper in her hand. "I've been having a drink,—such a drink, Blue Bonnet!" She held out thedripping cup and Blue Bonnet drank from it thirstily.
As she finished she met the Señora's eyes over the brim. "Oh, Grandmother, I ought to have done that—for you!" She shook her head. "I wonder if I'll ever think in time?"
Mrs. Clyde smiled and pushed the hair back from the girl's hot brow. "Where is Carita?"
"She rode on to tell her mother we had arrived. She'll be over later." Blue Bonnet glanced around the group. Every one looked warm, dusty, tired. And there was supper to get and beds to make! "What shall we do first, Grandmother?" Her manner was not exactly eager.
"First, we must all wash and brush up, for we are invited out to dinner!" Mrs. Clyde departed to suit the action to the words.
"Invited out—?" Blue Bonnet gazed at the girls incredulously.
"The boys of Camp Judson, represented by Knight, have invited us over there—"
"And we didn't waste any time in accepting!"
"Wasn't it thoughtful of them?" Blue Bonnet beamed on every one. "Now aren't you glad we brought the pinoche?"
"Let's go and dress," Debby urged.
"Dress?" echoed Blue Bonnet. "What are you going to wear—your pink panne velvet or your yellow chiffon?"
"Why, Blue Bonnet," said Sarah, "you know we haven't any clothes with us but these!"
Blue Bonnet groaned. "Then why is that worldly-minded Debby talking about dressing for dinner?"
"I meant wash and comb our hair," Debby protested.
"Where's the wash-basin, Blue Bonnet? I saw you with it when we were packing," said Sarah.
Blue Bonnet clapped a hand to her brow. "I think I put it in with the frying-pan."
"Are you sure it isn't in the bread-box?" Kitty asked.
"I wouldn't be sure it isn't." Blue Bonnet began a hasty search in the camp-wagon. Box after box was rummaged through, utensil after utensil picked up hopefully, only to disappoint when brought to the surface.
"There's no help for it," declared Debby, "we'll have to go and wash in the creek."
"Why, there may be campers below," said Sarah in a shocked tone, "and they wouldn't like to—"
"You needn't draw a diagram, Sarah," interrupted Blue Bonnet. "A word to the wise, you know. I'll polish off with cold cream." And she vanished.
Sarah, armed with towel and soap emerged from her tent a few minutes later and made her way through the willows to the creek. Blue Bonnet spying her called tauntingly: "Campers below!"
"I'm only going to wet one corner," Sarah went on calmly.
"Which corner—northeast or southwest?"
"Of the towel, of course." Then a minute later she called, "Girls, come quick!"
There was an immediate stampede to the creek.
"What is it—lions?" asked Amanda.
Sarah pointed without speaking. There, bending over an old tree-stump, admirably fashioned for a wash-stand, was the Señora calmly washing herself—in the basin.
"I found it here all ready for us," she explained. "And see—here's a nail on this little tree ready for a mirror, and branches just made to hang towels on."
"Alec and Knight haven't left a thing for me to see to," remarked Blue Bonnet. "I'm going to stop worrying."
"Oh, you were worrying, were you?" asked Kitty. "We'll know the symptoms next time."
The washing-up that ensued was very animated, if not thorough. Taking turns at the basin the girls, wincing under the cold water, "polished off" the top layer of dust; brushed ruffled locks and retied ribbons; dabbed talcum on noses and straightened creased middies. They were just putting on the finishing touches when the sound of cow-bells, rung lustily and long, came from the direction of the other Camp.
"That must be the dinner-bell," said Blue Bonnet. "I hope they won't expect us to have dainty appetites just because we're girls!"
A moment later Alec and Knight appeared to escort them in state. Midway they were met by Mr. and Mrs. Judson,—the latter with two small boys tugging at her skirts, and a third not far in the rear; a state of things that was later found to be invariably the case whenever Mrs. Judson ventured forth.
Blue Bonnet decided that she was going to like the whole Judson family. She liked the Reverend Mr. Judson with his delicate face and kind, nearsighted eyes. She liked him particularly because he looked so unministerial in his soft shirt and blue overalls. She liked Mrs. Judson, with her sweet, tired face looking out from a cavernous sun-bonnet. Mrs. Clyde's discerning eye read in the patient worn face a history of privation and self-denial; and surmised that the enthusiasm of the missionary was paid for most dearly by this uncomplaining partner.
It was to the tiniest toddler that Blue Bonnet was drawn most of all; she adored babies, and this chubby two-year-old was irresistible. She held out her arms to little Joe, but, to her surprise, he held off shyly. He scanned the row of ingratiating faces slowly, and not until his eyes rested on the kindly round countenance of Sarah did he show any response.
"Pitty lady!" he cried, holding out his arms and making a charge at her.
Sarah's face flushed pink with surprise and pleasure; and then with a rush she gathered Joe in a close hug. She had not realized until then how she had missed the little clinging arms at home.
"He spurns you, Blue Bonnet!" gasped Kitty.
"I reckon he can tell who has had experience with babies," Blue Bonnet remarked. The glance she gave Sarah was almost envious. "Well, pitty lady," she said at length, "you might leave a few kisses for somebody else!"
But Joe was chary and clung tightly to the lady of his choice; while the other girls secretly marvelled at any one's preferring Sarah to Blue Bonnet.
Carita made up for her brother's lack of appreciation; running to meet the girls, she drew Blue Bonnet's arm through her own and gave it an affectionate squeeze every few minutes.
"I hope the other girls won't mind if I monopolize you a little bit," she whispered; "they've had you so long and I'm to have such a short time."
This sort of incense no one could have been proof against; and Blue Bonnet was presently glowing.
"Welcome to Camp Judson!" said Knight proudly, as they neared a second grove of trees.
"Oh, how lovely!" Every one came to a standstill while they took in the pretty scene.
A model camp was Camp Judson. On a high flatknoll to the right was a long row of tiny white tents placed with military precision at regular spaces from each other, and each surrounded by a narrow trench. Among the trees gleamed other tents, and occasionally a gay quilt hung to air. Under one huge oak was the dining-room with a red-white-and-blue awning for a roof. Here were two long tables made of smooth boards laid on barrels, with rude benches running their entire length. They were guiltless of cloth and spread with tin dishes, for simplicity was a law as well as a necessity in this Camp. But a rustic basket of graceful ferns adorned one table, and the sun, hanging low in the sky, threw a pattern of quivering light and shade on the bare boards.
The girls had rather dreaded having to meet a dozen boys all at once. But they found the ordeal not half so bad as they had expected. The youngest boys were already gathered about the smaller table awaiting the signal to be seated; while the second table was reserved for the Judsons and their guests. Standing beside it were three tall lads wearing towels pinned about them for aprons.
"Smith, Brown and Jones—the three props of the world!" explained Knight, with a wave of his hand; and the girls acknowledged the introduction without knowing which was which. "Keep your eye on the waiters, ladies and gentlemen," Knight continued, "and report all incivilities to the management.There's a fine for every cup of cocoa they spill down anybody's neck, and another for every spider they don't see first!"
Everybody stood beside the benches for a moment while Dr. Judson said a simple grace. Blue Bonnet noticed that even the smallest boy there bent his head at once, without even so much as a nudge from his neighbor. There was a second of absolute quiet after the pleasant voice finished the short invocation; then a shoving of benches, a rattle of dishes; and the meal progressed amid peals of laughter and an incessant clucking as of chickens at feeding-time.
"Talk about chattering girls!" Blue Bonnet challenged Alec with an amused glance. She found herself seated between him and Knight, an arrangement that suited all three admirably; while Carita smiled at her across the narrow table. Some of the older boys were beside Kitty, Debby and Amanda, and all three girls seemed to be well entertained. Sarah, with a small Judson on either side of her, was occupied chiefly in alternately kissing and feeding the youthful pair. Steamingfrijolesin a huge earthen bowl; bass from the Spring, fried with slices of bacon; baked potatoes, cocoa and doughnuts formed the menu, which the hearty appetites of all transformed into a banquet; and no one felt compelled to refuse a second or third helping from motives of politeness.
"Where's the Spring?" Blue Bonnet asked suddenly."The only creek I've seen is about as wide as my hand."
"Just a short walk from camp," Knight replied. "I'm saving that to show you in the morning."
There fell a moment of silence.
"Did I hear you sigh?" Alec was looking at Blue Bonnet in astonishment. She had never looked happier or prettier in her life; sun and wind had painted a rose-blush on her cheeks; the blue eyes were positively luminous. Yet he had distinctly heard her sigh.
She nodded. "I had to. I'm just too full for utterance—no, no!—I'll take another doughnut! I didn't mean that literally. But I'm full of content,—I'd like to purr."
Alec laughed. "It's the best fun I've ever had. I believe I must be part Indian, and this is the only time I've ever been able to obey 'the call of the wild.' It makes me sorry for all the misguided folk that spend all their lives in houses."
"Look at Grandmother," Blue Bonnet whispered. "Who would ever have thought that a Colonial Dame would look so natural eating beans with a tin spoon? I wish Uncle Cliff could have come, he's a born camper."
"Why didn't Mr. Terry come to dinner?" Knight asked.
"Uncle Joe!" Blue Bonnet's spoon dropped with a clatter. She hadn't even thought of Uncle Joe!"Mrs. Judson," she stammered, "will you please excuse me? I'll be right back." Hardly waiting for Mrs. Judson's surprised "Certainly," she sprang lightly over the bench and vanished through the trees.
The We are Sevens, used to Blue Bonnet's methods, went on unconcernedly with their dessert; but the Judsons looked mildly amazed.
Blue Bonnet found Uncle Joe smoking contentedly before a cosy gypsy fire on which a coffee-pot was steaming. She burst upon him breathlessly.
"Uncle Joe—I forgot,—you're invited out to dinner!"
He smiled at her over his pipe. "I ain't got a dinner-coat, Honey."
"But, Uncle Joe—it was horrid of me I know—"
"No uncomplimentary remarks, please," he interrupted; then seeing that she was really distressed he went on seriously: "Don't you worry about Uncle Joe, Blue Bonnet. He's used to looking out for Number One. I had to help Miguel hobble the horses, and that's a job that won't wait for any man. Now I've got tortillas and bacon and coffee, and I'm that comfortable I wouldn't stir for a whole company of Texas Rangers!"
As she reluctantly departed Uncle Joe looked after the slim figure with quiet delight. "Same oldBlue Bonnet. Boston folks can't get any high-toned notions into that little head!"
As Blue Bonnet slipped back into her place, she found an animated discussion in progress.
"We're trying to decide on a name for our camp," Debby explained.
"We've run through Ashe, Clyde, Trent and the rest, but they're too—exclusive," said Kitty. "We want one that will include everybody."
"Why not 'Camp We are Seven?'" asked Knight.
"Too clumsy," declared Blue Bonnet.
"Use initials then," urged Knight.
"Camp W. A. S.—sounds rather like a has-been," remarked the bright-faced boy beside Kitty.
Blue Bonnet flashed him an appreciative smile. "That would never do for a crowd as—ahem—up-to-date as we try to be!"
"Let's have something beautiful," said Kitty.
"And romantic," added Debby.
"If you want something typical of this country," Dr. Judson spoke up, "—there's an expressive phrase often used hereabouts. Those of you who know the habits of the 'greasers' don't need to be told why their country is called the 'land ofpoco tiempo.' It means literally 'little time'—but with the Mexicans it usually means 'after a while' or even 'by and by.' 'Always put off till to-morrowwhat should be done to-day' is their version of our old motto."
"That just suits me!" cried Blue Bonnet.
"I love Spanish names," exclaimed Kitty.
Poco Tiempothe camp was straightway christened; and, as they later proved, its inmates had no difficulty in living up to the name.
"I reckonwe'll all sleep without rocking," Blue Bonnet smiled drowsily in on the girls who were disrobing for the night. She had stolen from Grandmother's tent for a last word, but lingered for several before departing. "How's your bed, Sarah?"
"A bit bumpy," the honest girl admitted.
"Mustn't mind a little thing like that," Blue Bonnet admonished her.
"They're not very little—just you wait and see." Sarah squirmed about seeking a level spot for her body.
Alec and Knight, who had spent hours stuffing the bed-ticks with Spanish moss, would hardly have felt repaid could they have seen her discomfort at that moment.
Observing her Blue Bonnet remarked: "I'm glad we brought the canvas cot for Grandmother. I don't mind bumpy beds myself—it isn't right to be too comfortable when you're camping out."
Kitty stood, mirror in hand, ministering unto a blistered nose, and as Sarah gave a final grunt before closing her eyes, she called suddenly: "SarahBlake, don't you dare go to sleep 'til we've drawn lots."
"Lots?" Sarah blinked sleepily.
"To see who's to get breakfast. After that we'll take turns, two at a time."
"But there are five of us," protested Debby.
"Grandmother says to count her in. We'll give her Sarah for a running-mate,—she's about the only one that can keep Sallykins in order."
Sarah woke up at that to give the speaker a surprised and grieved look, at which Blue Bonnet burst into a laugh. "I'll label my next joke, Old Reliable," she said.
Kitty looked about her for something which they could use for lots.
Nothing seeming appropriate, she suddenly tweaked three bright hairs from her own curly head, arranged them in lengths and held them out for the others to draw.
"Shortest gets breakfast; next lunch, longest dinner," she announced tersely.
"Hooray for us!" cried Amanda, catching Blue Bonnet around the waist and hopping about on one foot, the other being unshod. "Lunch for us. Let's think up something easy."
Kitty made a grimace at the short hair left in her hand. "Breakfast! Debby, I call that hard luck."
"The others may call it harder," prophesied Blue Bonnet.
"Never mind, the Señora and Sarah will make up for it at dinner-time," said Kitty.
"Night-night!" said Blue Bonnet, preparing to leave. With her hand on the tent-flap she paused. "Shake out your shoes before you put them on in the morning!" she said; and with this dark warning fled.
Camp Judson had awakened, had had a fiercely contested water-fight, had breakfasted, tidied up, and most of its inmates scattered in quest of adventures, before the tired girls ofPoco Tiempogathered for the morning meal. Kitty and Debby, enveloped in capacious gingham aprons, and appearing somewhat flushed and nervous, stood waiting to serve.
Mrs. Clyde gave the two cooks an approving smile. "Everything looks charming," she said as she took her place at the head of the board.
The table here was spread with white oilcloth, and the dishes of blue enamelled-ware showed bright and cheerful against the immaculate expanse. Bowls of steaming oatmeal porridge stood at each place, and huge mugs of cocoa. But it was at none of these that Blue Bonnet was gazing; her eyes were fastened in wonder on a pitcher of real milk and another of real cream.
"Where did that come from?" she demanded.
"The Spring!" declared Kitty.
"Miguel rode to the Circle Y ranch and got itearly this morning," Debby confessed, "and they're going to let us have it every morning."
"It's a jarring note," Blue Bonnet declared.
"All right, you can have all the 'condemned milk' you want," said Kitty, "—we've a dozen cans of it."
But Blue Bonnet was already helping herself generously to the "jarring note" and seemed to enjoy it as much as any one. Every one was exceedingly polite and made no mention of lumps in the porridge; and finally the anxious puckers in Debby's forehead began to smooth themselves out. There was a moment of veritable triumph for the cooks when they came in with the nicely browned bacon and a plate heaped high with golden corn-bread.
"Who was the artist?" the Señora asked in pleased surprise.
"I didn't know you knew how," Sarah commented.
There was a moment's hesitation, and then Blue Bonnet, who had caught a glimpse of Uncle Joe's face, pointed an accusing finger at him. "Fess up, Uncle Joe!"
Much annoyed at himself, Uncle Joe tried to deny the accusation, but Kitty's face confirmed the suspicion against him, and in the end he "fessed up" rather lamely.
"Have to do something to earn my board and keep," he protested.
"Amanda and I get lunch, you know," Blue Bonnet suggested tactfully; and Amanda telegraphed her approval of this gentle hint.
"Well, this camp is well-named," said Knight, appearing suddenly with a half-dozen boys in his train. "Is this breakfast or lunch?"
"Breakfast, and a very good one," Mrs. Clyde remarked. "Won't you join us?"
"Don't tempt my merry men," Knight begged comically. "They've never yet been known to refuse food, and though it's only an hour since breakfast, I've no confidence in them."
"Won't you please hurry?" Alec asked eagerly. "I can't wait for you all to see the Spring."
"We're ready right now," said Blue Bonnet, jumping up impulsively. "Come on, girls, it's a glorious morning for a tramp."
"Haven't you forgotten something, Blue Bonnet?" her grandmother asked.
Blue Bonnet looked puzzled. "Do you mean hats? I'd much rather go without one, if you don't mind, Grandmother."
But it was not hats that Grandmother was thinking of; gradually it dawned on Blue Bonnet that the other girls were not making ready for the excursion, but were gathering up the dishes and clearing the table. She flashed a reproachful look at them.
"You might let those wait," she protested.
Grandmother smiled. "You do surely belong to the 'land ofpoco tiempo,' Blue Bonnet."
"But the dishes will keep—"
"And so will the Spring!"
The girl gave a discouraged sigh; it was a pity Grandmother had not been brought up in Texas; then she would have understood what were the really necessary things in life. She nodded wistfully at the boys. "Grandmother believes in every girl's doing her duty," she said.
"We'll have the manager hold the performance," said Knight cheerfully. "We'll be back in half an hour,—Carita can go by that time, too."
Blue Bonnet brightened visibly at this, and turned resolutely to the hated tasks.
"Debby and I will wash the dishes; Sarah can 'red up,' and you and Amanda do the beds," Kitty suggested.
Aunt Lucinda's training stood Blue Bonnet in good stead here. The going over the rather bumpy beds got in that half-hour left Amanda breathless with admiration.
"You can do things beautifully when you want to, Blue Bonnet," she remarked.
"When I have to, you mean," Blue Bonnet replied.
"Where's the broom, do you know?" asked Sarah.
"Sh!" Blue Bonnet drew her into the tent andout of every one's hearing. "There isn't any broom, Sarah."
"But I put one in the wagon myself."
"And Ithrew it out!"
"Blue Bonnet!" Something like horror was in Sarah's blue eyes.
Blue Bonnet met her gaze defiantly. "Did you ever see a picture of the Witch of Salem, Sarah?"
Sarah gave a bewildered nod. "What has the Witch of Salem—"
"Wasn't she riding a broom?" Blue Bonnet persisted.
"Yes—but—"
"Well, in my opinion that's the only good use a broom was ever put to! It has no place in a respectable camping party."
Sarah said no more; but when, a few minutes later, Amanda and Blue Bonnet looked out to learn the source of an odd sound, they beheld the indomitable Sarah, armed with an antiquated rake, gathering up the leaves and litter on the hard dirt "floor" of the dining-room.
"Who would have thought to see our Sarah grown rakish?" asked Blue Bonnet,—and then dodged the pillow sent by Amanda's indignant hand.
By the time the allotted half-hour was up,Poco Tiempowas a model of neatness and order. The girls, booted and hatted in spite of Blue Bonnet'sobjections, were ready to the minute, and when the young scouts appeared they set out at once, exactly—as Blue Bonnet remarked—like the third-graders at recess.
Grandmother had settled herself comfortably with a book,—Mrs. Judson was coming over later for a chat,—and so it was with a free mind and a soul ready for a carnival of pleasure that Blue Bonnet stepped forth on the joyous expedition.
"I reckon it is better," she admitted to Alec, "to have everything done first, instead of having them to do when you're tired."
"Oh, wise young judge!" he laughed. "We'll make a New Englander of you yet."
"That reminds me of something Cousin Tracey said once. He thought I was developing a New England conscience, and said it was an exceedingly troublesome thing to have around. I believe him,—it's much more fun to develop Kodak films. There now!" she broke off impatiently, "—if I haven't left my camera in the tent. And I want pictures of the Spring."
"Never mind, we'll be up here every day," said Alec. "There's a jolly little rustic bridge where you can gather the crowd for a group picture. Here we are!"
He and Blue Bonnet had walked faster than the others, and so were first to see this most beautiful of springs. Blue Bonnet gave one look, and thensomething rose in her throat, stifling breath and speech. Alec watched her appreciatively.
"If he speaks to me now, he's not the boy I've always believed him," the girl was saying to herself. She dreaded the first word that should break in on that moment of perfect beauty.
Below them the giant spring surged up, a great emerald in a setting of woods and hills. Clear as air, the water boiled up from the bowels of the earth, revealing every fish and pebble in its mirror-like depths. Shrubs overhung it; wild cresses and ferns clustered about it; below the surface long tresses of pinky-coral grasses floated and waved in the bubbling current.
A voice shattered the blissful moment of peace. "Isn't she a beauty?"
It was a sandy-haired youth with Kitty who had clambered roughly into the picture. Blue Bonnet hated him fiercely for a few seconds. Then the rest came up with a babble of voices and exclamations and she resigned herself, with a sigh, to the fact that the gift of silence, being golden, is given to but few.
Knight gave her a questioning glance and she glowed back at him. "It's perfect—almost too perfect."
"There's a wee spring up higher,—the camp creek flows from it. Do you feel equal to the climb?" he asked her.
She gave eager assent, and, after lingering a fewminutes for the others and finding them too slow for the pace she liked, Blue Bonnet followed Knight up a steep winding path that circled the hill.
He carried a "twenty-two" rifle swung across his shoulders, and in his belt a rather formidable looking knife.
"For use or ornament?" she asked, indicating the weapons. "You look like Dick Danger."
"Strictly for use," he assured her. "The gun has brought down many a toothsome 'possum, and the knife serves to cut anything from firewood to alpenstocks. Shall I cut you one to assist your feeble steps?"
They halted while he selected a sapling for the purpose, trimmed and sharpened it at the end.
"Alpine travellers put sharp iron points on their staffs, Uncle says," he explained, "so that by thrusting them in the ice and snow they keep from slipping. We don't need them for just that purpose, but they are handy on steep paths—and to kill bugs with!"
She accepted the "alpenstock" gratefully and soon found it useful for both purposes.
"When we get back to camp I'll get Sandy to carve your initials in it—he's quite a genius at carving," Knight said.
"Is Sandy the—sandy one?"
"Precisely."
"Then I don't think I like him."
"Oh, but you will when you know him better," Knight protested. "He's tremendously clever,—a born orator. He won a medal last year in a debate."
"That accounts for his talking so much," Blue Bonnet laughed. "He's always at it."
"But unlike most incessant talkers, he says something," Knight urged for his friend. "We'll get him to recite some evening, then you can judge how talented he is."
"Does he do 'Curfew shall not—?'" she asked mischievously.
"Grief, no!" Knight's disgusted tone sent Blue Bonnet off in a fit of laughter. To her surprise the ripple of her laugh came back in a gleeful "ha, ha!" that had something witchlike about it. She turned a startled face to her companion.
"We've reached the 'Whispering Grotto,'" he explained. "The echo is famous." He pushed aside a low-growing bough, and brushing by it Blue Bonnet found herself in a lovely little cave-like spot, in the centre of which was a tiny spring. It bubbled up somewhere back in the hill and had made a long tunnel, coming to the light just here.
"Oh, for a cup. I'm thirsty as—as Tantalus!" sighed Blue Bonnet.
"A Texas girl crying for a cup?" Knight asked teasingly.
"That wouldn't have happened before I went to Woodford. I've been going through what theycall—being civilized. It's mostly learning not to shock the New England sense of propriety."
"I'm not a New Englander!"
Knight's eyes were daring her; and it was fatal. What Sarah would have said if she could have seen Blue Bonnet's method of getting a drink is hard to conjecture. Hardly had she time to spring to her feet when voices were heard close at hand.
"I can hear Sandy." She turned eagerly to Knight. "Let's go on—I don't feel ready for a crowd."
"There's a lovely view from the top of the hill," he suggested.
Her only answer was to push on, plying her alpenstock eagerly in her haste to elude the others. Pausing only when the top of the hill was reached, she sank at length on a fallen tree-trunk. The view was all Knight had promised for it, overlooking a quiet valley.
"Let's call it 'Peaceful Valley,'" she said.
"It may have a different name on the map, but no one can prevent our christening it what we like," he agreed.
Blue Bonnet was content to rest for a while here. There was no sign of life anywhere, except a solitary bird wheeling about far above their heads.
"A swallow-tailed kite," Knight said as the bird dropped suddenly into clearer view. "Graceful, isn't it?"
All at once the big kite alighted on the dead branch of a tree near them.
"What glorious wings!" breathed Blue Bonnet.
"Would you like one for your hat?" Knight asked.
"Oh, wouldn't I!" she cried eagerly.
Quick as flash Knight swung his rifle about, aimed and fired. Blue Bonnet put her fingers in her ears with an exclamation of alarm. The bird toppled as if to fall, then righted itself with a lurch and fluttered out from the tree. Blue Bonnet gave a sigh of relief.
"I was so afraid you had hurt him!" she cried,—and the words died away in a gasp of distress. The kite, pitching headlong, had fallen almost at her feet.
She dropped on her knees beside it; but the bird was still. Knight, bending over her, was suddenly filled with surprise and dismay; she was crying like a child.
"It was so mean and vain of me," she said with quivering lips, "—to want him just for a hat, when he was having such a beautiful time."
Knight was pale with hatred of himself.
She looked up at last and smiled mistily through her tears. "I reckon you think I am pretty much of a baby. But I can't bear to see things—die."
"It's only a big hawk," he said to comfort both himself and her.
She looked up hopefully. "And hawks are mean birds, aren't they,—that kill little chickens and other birds?"
He hesitated, then said unwillingly: "Some hawks do. But this is a different kind. It lives on snakes and insects—"
"Then it is a good bird!—that's what Uncle Cliff calls them." Her face clouded again and she turned towards camp.
"You don't want one of the wings then?"
She shuddered. "Oh, no!" Then she paused. "I will have—I saw some feathers fall. Will you give me one? I want it for a reminder."
Knight picked up one of the tiny barred wing-feathers and handed it to her. "A reminder?"
"I'm never going to wear things like that again—wings and birds and all those cruel ornaments. I never realized before—And whenever I am tempted I shall look at this."
Knight bent, picked up another of the feathers and laid it away in his fly-book. "I need a reminder, too," he remarked.
"But you never wear birds in your hats," Blue Bonnet said wonderingly.
"My reminder shall be: 'Think before you shoot,'" he said quietly.