Camp Fire Girls The at the Seashore Part 3

"Oh, I guess there's nothing to worry about," said Marcia, cheerfully enough. "We can keep her in order all right, and if she doesn't behave herself decently I guess you'll find that Miss Turner will send her home in a hurry."

"Oh, I hope not," said Bessie. "That wouldn't really do any good, would it? We want to be friends with her--not to have any more trouble."

"I wish I'd kept out of it," said Dolly, dolefully. "I think I can keep my temper, and then I go off and make things worse than ever! I ought to know enough not to interfere. I'm like the elephant that killed a little mother bird by accident, and he was so sorry that he sat on its nest to hatch the eggs!"

"Maybe it's a good thing," said Marcia, laughing at the picture of the elephant. "After all, isn't it a good deal as Bessie said? If there's bad feeling, it's better to have it open and aboveboard. We all know where we are now, anyhow. And I certainly hope that something will turn up to change her mind."

CHAPTER V.

THE COUNCIL FIRE.

"I hope it will, Bessie," said Dolly. "But you know what a nasty temper I've got. If she keeps on talking the way she has, I don't know what I'll say."

"Well, you might as well say what you like, Dolly. I believe she wants a good quarrel with someone--and it might as well be you."

"You mean you think she likes me to get angry?"

"Of course she does! There wouldn't be any fun in it for her if you didn't. Can't you see that?"

Dolly looked very thoughtful.

"Then I won't give her the satisfaction of getting angry!" she declared, finally. "Of course you're right, Bessie. If we didn't pay any attention at all to her it wouldn't do her a bit of good to get angry, would it?"

"I wondered how long it would take you to see that, Dolly."

They were walking back to their own tents as they spoke. Once arrived there, neither said anything about the spirit Gladys had shown. They both felt that it would be as well to let the other girls think that Gladys shared the friendly feelings of the other Halsted girls. And since Bessie and Dolly happened to be the only ones who knew that Gladys had been the prime mover in the trouble that had been made at Lake Dean, it was easy enough to conceal the true facts.

"She can't do anything by herself," said Dolly. "Up at Lake Dean nothing would have happened unless the rest of those girls had taken her part against us."

"I'm going to try to forget about her altogether, Dolly," said Bessie. "I'm not a bit angry at her, but if she won't be friends, she won't and that's all there is to it. And I don't see why I should worry about her when there are so many nice girls who do want to be friendly. Why, what are you laughing at?"

"I'm just thinking of how mad Gladys would be if she really understood! She's made herself think that she is doing a great favor to people when she makes friends of them--and, if she only knew it, she would have a hard time having us for friends now."

Charlie Jamieson and Billy Trenwith accepted Eleanor's pressing invitation to stay for the evening meal, but Trenwith seemed to feel that they were wasting time that might be better spent.

"Not wasting it exactly," he said, however, when Eleanor laughingly accused him of feeling so. "But I do sort of think that Charlie and I ought to keep after this man Holmes. He seems to be a tough customer, and I'll bet he's busy, all right."

"The only point, Billy," said Charlie, "is that, no matter how busy we were, there's mighty little we could do. We don't know enough, you see. But maybe when I get up to the city, I'll find out more. I'll go over the facts with you in Bay City to-night, and then I'll go up to town and see what I can do with Jake Hoover and Zara's father."

"Well, let's do something, for Heaven's sake!" said Trenwith. "I hate to think that all you girls out here are in danger as a result of this man's villainy. If he does anything rotten, I can see that he's punished but that might not do you much good."

"I tell you what would do some good, and that's to let Holmes know that you will punish him, if he exposes himself to punishment," said Charlie Jamieson. "That's the chief reason he's so bold. He thinks he's above the law--that he can do anything, and escape the consequences."

"Well, of course," said Trenwith, "it may enlighten him a bit when he finds that those rascals we caught to-day will have to stand trial, just as if they were friendless criminals. If what you say about him is so, he'll be after me to-morrow, trying to call me off. And I guess he'll find that he's up against the law for once."

"Did they get that telephone fixed up, Nell?" asked Charlie. "You're a whole lot safer with a telephone right here on the beach. Being half a mile from the nearest place where you can ever call for help is bad business."

Eleanor pointed to a row of poles, on which a wire was strung, leading into the main living tent.

"There it is," she said, gaily. "I don't see how you got them to do it so fast, though."

"Billy's a sort of political boss round here, as well as district attorney," laughed Jamieson. "When he says a thing's to be done, and done in a hurry, he usually has his way."

Eleanor looked curiously at Trenwith, and Charlie, catching the glance, winked broadly at Dolly Ransom. It was perfectly plain that the young District Attorney interested Eleanor a good deal. His quiet efficiency appealed to her. She liked men who did things, and Trenwith was essentially of that type. He didn't talk much about his plans; he let results speak for him. And, at the same time, when there was a question of something to be done, what he did say showed a quiet confidence, which, while not a bit boastful, proved that he was as sure of himself as are most competent men.

Also, his admiration for Eleanor was plain and undisguised. Charlie Jamieson, who was almost like a brother in his relations with Eleanor, was hugely amused by this. Somehow cousins who are so intimate with a girl that they take a brother's place, never do seem able to understand that she may have the same attraction for other men that the sisters and the cousins of the other men have for them. The idea that their friends may fall in love with the girls they regard in such a perfectly matter-of-fact way strikes them, when it reaches them at all, as a huge joke.

All the girls were sorry to see the two men who had helped them so much go away after dinner, but of course their departure was necessary. Just now, after the exciting events of the previous night, there seemed a reasonable chance of a little peace, but the price of freedom from the annoyance caused by Holmes was constant vigilance, and there was work for both the men to do. Moreover, the sight of the cheerful fire from the other camp, and the thought of the great camp fire they were presently to enjoy in common consoled them.

"The Halsted girls are going to build the fire," said Eleanor. "It's their first ceremonial camp fire, so I told Miss Turner they were welcome to do it. They're all Wood-Gatherers, you see. So we'll have to light the fire for them, anyhow. See, they're at work already, bringing in the wood. Margery, suppose you go over and make sure that they're building the fire properly, with plenty of room for a good draught underneath."

"Who's going to take them in, and give them their rings, Miss Eleanor?" asked Dolly. "You, or Miss Turner?"

"Why, Miss Turner wants me to do it, Dolly, because I'm older in the Camp Fire than she is. She's given me the rings. I think it's quite exciting, really, taking so many new girls in all at once."

"Come on," cried Margery Burton, then. "They're all ready and they want us to form the procession now, and go over there."

"You are to light the fire, Margery. Are you all ready?"

"Yes, indeed, Miss Eleanor. Shall I go ahead, and start the flame?"

"Yes, do!"

Then while Margery disappeared, Eleanor, at the head of the girls, started moving in the stately Indian measure toward the dark pile of wood that represented the fire that was so soon to blaze up. As they walked they sang in low tones, so that the melody rose and mingled with the waves and the sighing of the wind.

Just as the first spark answered Margery's efforts with her fire-making sticks, they reached the fire, and sat down in a great circle, with a good deal of s.p.a.ce between each pair of girls. Eleanor took her place in the centre, facing Margery, who now stood up, lifting a torch that she had lighted above her head. As she touched the tinder beneath the fire Eleanor raised her hand, and, as the flames began to crackle, she lowered it, and at once the girls began the song of Wo-he-lo: Wo-he-lo means love. Wo-he-lo, wo-he-lo, wo-he-lo. We love love, for love is the heart of life. It is light and joy and sweetness, Comrades.h.i.+p and all dear kins.h.i.+p. Love is the joy of service so deep That self is forgotten. Wo-he-lo means love.

Outside the circle now other and unseen voices joined them in the chorus: Wo-he-lo for aye, Wo-he-lo for aye, Wo-he-lo, wo-he-lo, wo-he-lo for aye!

Then for a moment utter silence, so that the murmur of the waves seemed amazingly loud. Then, their voices hushed, half the Manasquan girls chanted: Wo-he-lo for work!

And the others, their voices rising gradually, answered with: Wo-he-lo for health!

And without a break in the rhythm, all the girls joined in the final Wo-he-lo, wo-he-lo, wo-he-lo for love!

Then Margery, her torch still raised above her head, while she swung it slowly in time to the music of her song, sang alone: O Fire! Long years ago when our fathers fought with great animals you were their great protection. When they fought the cold of the cruel winter you saved them. When they needed food you changed the flesh of beasts into savory meat for them. During all the ages your mysterious flame has been a symbol to them for Spirit, So, to-night, we light our fire in grateful remembrance of the Great Spirit who gave you to us.

Then Margery took her place in the circle, and Eleanor called the roll, giving each girl the name she had chosen as her fire name.

Then Mary Turner, in her new ceremonial robe, fringed with beads, slipped into the circle of the firelight, bright and vivid now.

"Oh, Wanaka," she said, calling Eleanor by her ceremonial name, "I bring to-night these newcomers to the Camp Fire, to tell you their Desire, and to receive from you their rings."

One by one the girls of the Halsted Camp Fire stepped forward, and each repeated her Desire to be a Wood-Gatherer, and was received by Eleanor, who explained to each some new point of the Law of the Fire, so that all might learn. And to each, separately, as she slipped the silver ring of the Camp Fire on her finger, she repeated the beautiful exhortation: Firmly held by the sinews which bind them, As f.a.gots are brought from the forest So cleave to these others, your sisters, Whenever, wherever you find them.

Be strong as the f.a.gots are st.u.r.dy; Be pure in your deepest desire; Be true to the truth that is in you; And--follow the law of the Fire!

One by one as they received their rings, the newcomers slipped into seats about the fire, each one finding a place between two of the Manasquan girls. Marcia Bates, flushed with pleasure, took a seat between Bessie and Dolly.

"Oh, how beautiful it all is!" she said. "I don't see how any of us could ever have laughed at the Camp Fire! But, of course, we didn't know about all this, or we never would have laughed as we did."

"I love the part about 'So cleave to these others, your sisters,'" said Dolly. "It's so fine to feel that wherever you go, you'll find friends wherever there's a Camp Fire--that you can show your ring, and be sure that there'll be someone who knows the same thing you know, and believes in the same sort of things!"

"Yes, that's lovely, Dolly. Of course, we've all read about this, but you have to do it to know how beautiful it is. I'm so glad you girls were here for this first Council Fire of ours. You know how everything should be done, and that seems to make it so much better."

"It would have pleased you just as much, and been just as lovely if you'd done it all by yourselves, Marcia. It's the words, and the ceremony that are so beautiful--not the way we do it. Every Camp Fire has its own way of doing things. For instance, some Camp Fires sing the Ode to Fire all together, but we have Margery do it alone because she has such a lovely voice."

"I think it was splendid. I never had any idea she could sing so well."

"Her voice is lovely, but it sounds particularly soft and true out in the open air this way, and without a piano to accompany her. Mine doesn't--I'm all right to sing in a crowd, but when I try to sing by myself, it's just a sort of screech. There isn't any beauty to my tones at all, and I know it and don't try to sing alone."

"Aren't they all in now?" asked Bessie.

There had been a break in the steady appearance of new candidates before Eleanor. But, even as she spoke, another figure glided into the light.

"No. There's Gladys Cooper," said Marcia, with a little start.

"I wonder if she sees what there is to the Camp Fire now," said Dolly, speculatively.

"What is your desire?" asked Eleanor.

"I desire to become a Camp Fire Girl and to obey the law of the Camp Fire," said Gladys, in a mechanical, sing-song voice, entirely different from the serious tones of those who had preceded her.

"She's laughing to herself," said Marcia, indignantly. "Just listen! She's repeating the Desire as if it were a bit of doggerel."

They heard her saying: "Seek beauty, Give service, Pursue knowledge, Hold on to health, Glorify work, Be happy. This law of the Camp Fire I will strive to follow."

"Give service," repeated Eleanor slowly. "You have heard what I said to the other girls, Gladys. I want you to understand this point of the law. It is the most important of all, perhaps. It means that you must be friendly to your sisters of the Camp Fire; that you must love them, and put them above yourself."

"I must do all that for my chums--the girls in our Camp Fire, you mean, I suppose?" said Gladys. "I don't care anything about these other girls. And, Miss Mercer, all that you're going to say in a minute--'So cleave to these others, your sisters'--that doesn't mean the girls in any old Camp Fire, does it?"

Startled, Eleanor was silent for a moment. Mary Turner looked at Gladys indignantly.

"It means every girl in every Camp Fire," said Eleanor, finally. "And more than that, you must serve others, in or out of the Camp Fire."

"Oh, that's nonsense!" said Gladys. "I couldn't do that."

"Then you are not fit to receive your ring," said Eleanor.

CHAPTER VI.

AN UNHAPPY ENDING.

There was a gasp of astonishment and dismay from the girls. Somehow all seemed to feel as if Eleanor's reproach were directed at them instead of at the pale and angry Gladys, who stood, scarcely able to believe her ears, looking at the Guardian. There had been no anger in Eleanor's voice, only sorrow and distress.

"Why, what do you mean, Miss Mercer?" Gladys gasped.

"Exactly what I say, Gladys," said Eleanor, in the same level voice. "You are not fit to be one of us unless you mean sincerely and earnestly to keep the Law of the Fire. We are a sisterhood; no girl who is not only willing, but eager, to become our sister, may join us."

Slowly the meaning of her rejection seemed to sink into the mind of Gladys.

"Do you mean that you're not going to let me join?" she asked in a shrill, high pitched voice that showed she was on the verge of giving way to an outbreak of hysterical anger.

"For your own sake it is better that you should not join now, Gladys. Listen to me. I do not blame you greatly for this. I would rather have you act this way than be a hypocrite, pretending to believe in our law when you do not."

"Oh, I hate you! I hate the Camp Fire! I wouldn't join for anything in the world, after this!"

"There will be time to settle that when we are ready to let you join, Gladys," said Eleanor, a little sternness creeping into her voice, as if she was growing angry for the first time. "To join the Camp Fire is a privilege. Remember this--no girl does the Camp Fire a favor by joining it. The Camp Fire does not need any one girl, no matter how clever, or how pretty, or how able she may be, as much as that girl needs the Camp Fire. The Camp Fire, as a whole, is a much greater, finer thing than any single member."

Sobs of anger were choking Gladys when she tried to answer. She could not form intelligible words.

Eleanor glanced at Mary Turner, and the Guardian of the new Camp Fire, on the hint, put her arm about Gladys.

"I think you'd better go back to the camp now, dear," she said, very gently. "You and I will have a talk presently, when you feel better, and perhaps you will see that you are wrong."

All the life and spirit seemed to have left the girls as Gladys, her head bowed, the sound of her sobs still plainly to be heard, left the circle of the firelight and made her lonely way over the beach toward the tents of her own camp. For a few moments silence reigned. Then Eleanor spoke, coolly and steadily, although Mary Turner, who was close to her, knew what an effort her seeming calm represented.

"We have had a hard thing to do to-night," she said. "I know that none of you will add to what Gladys has made herself suffer. She is in the wrong, but I think that very few of us will have any difficulty in remembering many times when we have been wrong, and have been sure that we were right. Gladys thinks now that we are all against her--that we wanted to humiliate her. We must make her understand that she is wrong. Remember, Wo-he-lo means love."

She paused for a moment.

"Wo-he-lo means love," she repeated. "And not love for those whom we cannot help loving. The love that is worth while is that we give to those who repel us, who do not want our love. It is easy to love those who love us. But in time we can make Gladys love us by showing that we want to love her and do what we can to make her happy. And now, since I think none of us feel like staying here, we will sing our good-night song and disperse."

And the soft voices rose like a benediction, mingling in the lovely strains of that most beautiful of all the Camp Fire songs.

Silently, and without the usual glad talk that followed the ending of a Council Fire, the circle broke up, and the girls, in twos and threes, spread over the beach.

"Walk over with me, won't you?" Marcia Bates begged Dolly and Bessie. "Oh, I'm so ashamed! I never thought Gladys would act like that!"

"It isn't your fault, Marcia," said Dolly. "Don't be silly about it. And, do you know, I'm not angry a bit! Just at first I thought I was going to be furious. But--well, somehow I can't help admiring Gladys! I like her better than I ever did before, I really do believe!"

"Oh, I do!" said Bessie, her eyes glowing. "Wasn't she splendid? Of course, she's all wrong, but she had to be plucky to stand up there like that, when she knew everyone was against her!"

"But she had no right to insult all you girls, Bessie."