CHAPTER XXUnderstanding
Just at the door of Mrs. Burton’s tent Bettina stopped a moment.
“May I come in for a little, please, Tante; I have not told you everything,” she said under her breath, her face, which had been pale until this moment, flooding crimson.
But it was the first time for several weeks that Bettina had used the title by which she had always called Mrs. Burton when she was a little girl.
“Certainly,” Polly answered quietly, opening the flap of her curtain and entering, the two girls following, for Peggy seemed determined to have a part in each interview.
Her tent had been a parting gift from her husband and was an unusually comfortable one, which held a divan, a low table and a chair, beside the sleeping cots. There were Indian blankets on the floor for rugs.
Polly sat down on the chair, motioning to the girls to be seated on the divan.
“I am tired,” she apologized.
And Peggy saw with a pang of remorse and regret that her aunt looked ill as well as unhappy over what she had been through with Bettina and herself. And Peggy also wondered whether she would ever be forgiven, realizing what a difference it would make in all her future life should she lose her affection. Sitting down now beside her aunt she did not dare speak to her nor touch her.
Bettina, however, would not sit down. Suddenly she looked like a contrite child, instead of the somewhat arrogant and superior character she had been pretending to be for the past few hours.
Reaching into her pocket she drew forth a small wooden statuette, carved and brilliantly colored.
“Tewa gave me this; I thought maybe you ought to have it,” Bettina said penitently. “It seems absurd to me and yet I did not like to refuse and hurt his feelings by not accepting. I think it is a kind of an idol which is supposed to bring goodfortune. Anyhow, Tewa won it at an Indian race this morning, and he gave it me when he returned to the house and found me there.”
And, like a child giving away a new doll, Bettina handed the little image to her Camp Fire guardian.
Bettina and Mrs. Burton both looked so absurd that, partly from nervousness and more from amusement, Peggy giggled irresistibly.
For an instant Polly and Bettina attempted to pay no attention to her; then Mrs. Burton’s blue eyes lightened and she bit her lips. Bettina only remained grave.
Then, unexpectedly, because she always had done unexpected things and always would, Polly Burton, having changed but little from Polly O’Neill, reached out and impulsively took Bettina’s hand.
“My dear, I wonder if we have both been absurd and I have been unfair?” she questioned. “It is only because I have cared so much——”
Bettina sat down on the rug and, unlike her usual reserved self, put her head down on Mrs. Burton’s knees, covering her face.
“Please don’t make me go home; I don’t want to,” she whispered, “but in any case Peggy shan’t go with me.”
Then, before any one else could speak, Vera, without asking permission, walked inside the tent.
“I am so sorry to interrupt,” she began, “but Gerry Williams asked me to come and explain something to you. She says she closed the door on you, Bettina, in the Indian house this morning, partly for a joke and perhaps because, in a way she hoped to make Mrs. Burton angry with you.”
Vera spoke in an entirely matter-of-fact fashion, as if there were nothing unusual in her statement. But the others stared at her in surprise.
“I thought it was Gerry, but I was not sure enough to say so,” Bettina murmured, “and I am afraid I don’t understand now.”
“But why should she?” Mrs. Burton questioned.
Peggy, as usual, came directly to the point.
“It wasn’t so extraordinary; Gerry is built that way. I guessed her measurefrom the beginning. But the thing that puzzles me, Vera, is not Gerry’s mischievousness, but how you induced her to confess.”
“Oh, I saw that something troubled her and I simply went to her and asked what it was. I had been just ahead of her when we left the Indian room and I suspected. But I did not speak of that. I usually can persuade people to tell me the things that worry them.”
Mrs. Burton took Bettina’s hand.
“I am glad we were friends before this happened, but I am afraid matters are still wrong as I now have the problem of Gerry. I did not dream of the difficulties a Camp Fire guardian might have; certainly not of so unsuccessful a one as I am. Gerry will have to go back, and I had hoped we might do something for her.”
Polly stopped and hesitated.
“Please, not on my account,” Bettina urged gently. “After all, it was only a silly thing that Gerry did—not worth much attention.”
“And after all you have always said, Gerry has not had the chance the rest of ushave had,” Peggy interposed, which was good of her, since she had not liked Gerry from the beginning, and liked her even less well now.
Mrs. Richard Burton gave an expressive shrug of her slender shoulders.
“I expect I am more at fault than any one else; but life is a matter of the future—not of the past—isn’t it? And yet I am sure we have all learned many worthwhile things from our few months of campfire life together. So, suppose we let Gerry have another chance. In the meantime we may be missing a wonderful sight. Let us walk toward Oraibi together.”
Taking Bettina’s arm in hers, Mrs. Burton left her tent, Vera and Peggy just behind. Then, after calling the other girls, they went again toward the road near the mesa crowned with the village of Oraibi.
In the plain above they could faintly see the Snake Priests moving around in a large circle—then more and more quickly. It was not possible to appreciate exactly what they were doing, for, although the Camp Fire party had found a slight elevationto stand upon, the mesa remained many feet above.
It was just as well, however, that they could not see more distinctly.
They did discover that, when the priests left the circle of dancers, they ran to the four quarters of the mesa and cast their offerings over their sides.
And then the Camp Fire party returned again to their camp, since the crowds of tourists were coming quickly down and darkness was falling.
Neither did they think again of the young Indian, who went away that night many miles across the plain to plant a feather prayer plume at a shrine of white shells in the desert. Not until morning did Dawn Light return to the village of his fathers.
The next volume of the Camp Fire series will be called “The Camp Fire Girls at the End of the Trail” and will continue to tell of the adventures and romances of the girls in the far West. New characters will be introduced and new and interesting developments in the lives of the present heroines.