A Campfire Girl's First Council Fire Part 2

"We'll find berries and nuts, and we can easily find a spring where we can drink all we want," said Bessie. "I guess we've got to look out for ourselves now, Zara. There's no one else to do it for us."

And Bessie, the meek, the quiet, the subdued, from that moment took command. Always before Zara had seemed the plucky one of the two. She had often urged Bessie to rebel against Maw Hoover's harshness, and it had been always Bessie who had hung back and refused to do anything that might make trouble. But now, when the time for real action had come, and Bessie recognized it, it was she who made the plans and decided what was to be done.

Bessie knew the woods well, far better than Zara. Unerringly she led the way to a spot she knew, where a farm had been allowed to drift back to wild country, and pointed out some cherry trees.

"Some berries aren't good to eat, but I know those cherries," said Bessie. "They used to be the best trees in the whole county years ago--Paw Hoover's told me that. Some believe that they're no good now, because no one has looked after the trees, but I know they're fine. I ate some only the other day, and they're ripe and delicious. So we'll have supper off these trees."

Zara, as active as a little cat, climbed the tree at once, and in a moment she was throwing down the luscious fruit to Bessie, who gathered it in her ap.r.o.n and called to Zara when she had picked enough of the big, round cherries.

"Aren't they good, Zara? Eat as many as you want. They're not like a real supper of meat and potatoes and things like that, you know, but they'll keep us from feeling hungry."

"They certainly will, Bessie. I'd never have known about them. But then I haven't lived long enough in the country to know it the way you do.

I've been in cities all my life."

"Yes, and if we get to the city, Zara, you'll know lots of things and be able to tell me all about them. It must be wonderful."

"I suppose it is, Bessie, but I never thought of it that way. It must have been because I was used to everything of that sort. When you see things every day you get so that you don't think anything about them. I used to laugh at people from the country when I'd see them staring up at the high buildings, and jumping when an automobile horn tooted anywhere near them."

"I suppose it must have seemed funny to you."

"Yes, but I was sorry when I came out here and saw that everyone was laughing at me. There were all sorts of things I'd never seen or thought about. I'm really only just beginning to get used to them now. Bessie, it's getting pretty dark. Won't the moon be up soon?"

"Not for an hour or two yet, Zara. But it is dark now--we'd better begin walking toward your house. We want to get there while it stays dark, and before the old moon does get up. It'll be just as bright as daylight then, and they'd be able to see us. I tell you what--we want to keep off the road. We'll go through the woods till we get a chance to cut through Farmer Weeks' cornfield. That'll bring us out behind your place, and we can steal up quietly."

"You'd think we'd been doing something wrong, Bessie. It seems mighty mean for us to have to sneak around that way."

"It's all right as long as we know we haven't done anything that isn't right, Zara. That's the chief thing. If you do right, people will find it out sooner or later, even if they think at first that you're bad.

Sometimes it takes a long time, but Paw Hoover says he's never known it to fail that a bad man gets found out sooner or later."

"Then Jake Hoover'd better look out," said Zara, viciously. "He's lied so much, and done so many mean things that you've got the blame for, that he'll have an awful lot to make up for when he starts in. What would Paw Hoover do to him if he knew he'd set the woodshed on fire, Bessie?"

"I don't know. He'd be awful mad. He hasn't got so awful much money, you know, and he needs it all for the farm. But Maw Hoover thinks Jake's all right. She'd find some excuse for him. She always does when he does get found out. That happens sometimes, you know. He can't always make them think I've done it."

"I guess maybe that's why he's so mean, Bessie. Don't you think so?"

"Shouldn't wonder, Zara. I don't believe he stops to think half the time. Here we are! We'll cut through the fence. Careful as we go through--keep to the lanes between the stalks. We mustn't hurt the corn, you know."

"I'd like to pull up every stalk! These people 'round here have been mean and ugly to my father ever since we came here."

"That isn't right, though, Zara. It won't do you any good to hurt them in return. If you do wrong, too, just because they have, you'll be just as bad as they are."

"Oh, I know, but they've said all sorts of awful things, and if they've put him in prison now--" She stopped, with a sob, and Bessie took her hand.

"Cheer up, Zara. We don't know that anything of that sort has happened yet, and, even if it has, it will come out all right. If your father hasn't done anything wrong, they can't punish him. He'll get a fair trial if he's been arrested, and they can't prove he's done anything unless he has, you know."

"But if they lied about him around here, mightn't they lie the same afterward--at the trial, Bessie? I'm frightened; really I am!"

"Hush, Zara! There's your house, and there's a light! That means there's someone there. I hope it's your father, but it might be someone else, and we mustn't let them hear us."

The two girls were out of the cornfield now, and, crossing a little patch of swampy land, came to the little garden around Zara's house, where her father had planted a few vegetables that helped to feed him and Zara.

The house was little better than a cabin, a rough affair, tumbled down in spots, with a sagging roof, and stained and weather-worn boards. It had no second floor at all, and it was a poor, cheap apology for a dwelling, all around. But, after all, it was Zara's home, the only home she knew, and she was so tired and discouraged that all she wanted was to get safely inside and throw herself down on her hard bed to sleep.

"Listen!" whispered Bessie, suddenly.

From the room into which the kitchen led there came a murmur of voices.

At first, though they strained their ears, they could make nothing out of the confused sounds of talk. But gradually they recognized voices, and Bessie turned pale as she heard Paw Hoover's, easy for her to know, since his deep tones rumbled out in the quiet night. Zara recognized them, too, and clutched Bessie's arm.

"My father isn't there!" she whispered. "If he was, I'd hear him."

"There's Farmer Weeks--and I believe that's Jake Hoover's voice, too,"

said Bessie, also in a whisper.

Then the door was opened, and the two girls huddled closer together, s.h.i.+vering, afraid that they would be discovered. But it seemed that Paw Hoover had only opened the door to get a little air, since the night was very hot after the storm. About them the insects were making their accustomed din, and a little breeze rustled among the treetops. But, with the door open, they could hear what was being said plainly enough.

"I ain't goin' to wait here all night, Brother Weeks," said Paw Hoover.

"Got troubles enough of my own, what with the woodshed settin' fire to the house!"

"Oh!" whispered Bessie. "Did you hear that, Zara? It was worse than we thought."

"Huh!" said Weeks, a rough, hard man, who found it hard to get men to work when he needed them for the harvest every summer, on account of his reputation for treating his men badly.

"I allus told you you'd have trouble with that baggage afore you got rid of her, Paw! Lucky that she didn't burn you out when you was all asleep--I say," said Jake.

Bessie listened, every nerve and muscle in her body tense. They blamed her for the fire, then! Her instinct when she had run away had been right.

"I swan, I dunno what all possessed her," said Paw Hoover. "We give her a good home--but Jake here seen her do it, though he was too late to stop her--hey, Jake?"

"That's right, Pop," said Jake. "She didn't know I was aroun' anywhere.

Say, you ought to have her pinched for doin' it, too."

"I dunno--she's only a youngster," said Paw. "I guess they wouldn't hold her responsible, somehow. But say, Brother Weeks, I hate to think of that little Zara runnin' roun' the woods to-night. She ain't done nothin' wrong, even if her paw's a crook. An' now they took him off, who's a-goin' to look out for her?"

"I'll drive her over to the poor-farm when she turns up," said Weeks.

"Then they'll take her, an' apprentice her to someone as wants a girl to work aroun' his place, like. Bind her over till she's twenty-one, and let her work for her keep. I might take her myself--guess 'twouldn't cost such a lot to feed her. She's thin--reckon she ain't ever had much to eat here."

Bessie, feeling the tremor in Zara's rigid body at this confirmation of her worst fears, put her hand quickly over her friend's mouth, just in time to check a cry that was rising to her lips.

"Come, Zara," she whispered, gently. "We'll have to look out for ourselves. Come, we'll get away. We mustn't stay around here."

And, holding Zara's arm, she led her away. For a long time, until Bessie judged that it was safe to return to the road, they kept on through the woods. And, when they came out on the road, the moon was up.

"The world's a beautiful place after all, Zara," said Bessie. "It can't be so bad when everything's so lovely. Come on, we'll walk a little further, and then we'll come to a place I know where we can sleep to-night--a place where wood cutters used to stay. No one's there now, and we'll be dry and safe."

"I'm not afraid if I'm with you, Bessie," said Zara.