The Camp Fire Girls Behind the Lines Part 6

Finally they climbed to the top of a mesa and brought Sally to a resting place before a clump of dusty, gray-green pepper trees.

On their left was a hedge of untrimmed shrubs and in front an open court. Beyond stood an old Spanish ranch house.

After whispering together, one of the little men rang a bell, which hung on a stand outside this court.

A few moments later a j.a.panese servant appeared and the three men spoke to one another in j.a.panese. Then the servant turned away.

It was all very unusual and puzzling. Before Sally and Gerry could be overwhelmed by uneasiness, to their relief they observed an older man and two young men approaching. They were obviously gentlemen, and one of them Gerry thought the most attractive fellow she had ever seen in her life. Yet he did not look like an American, but what her imagination had pictured as a Spaniard. He must have been about twenty-two or three and possessed unusually dark hair and eyes and skin.

When Gerry had explained their difficulty and apologized for their intrusion, their host led the way through the outer court into the enclosed one.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Their Host Led the Way Through the Outer Court into the Enclosed One]

Sally continued to be borne aloft like a foreign princess upon the shoulders of her faithful Caryatids.

The inside court was a miniature fairyland.

Like all really old Spanish ranch houses, this house was built in the form of a square with the garden in the center. It was of one story with the veranda also on the inside and running the entire length of the house.

In days long past this veranda would have been filled with people, for when the Spanish ranch houses were the center of California's social life all the play and work of the Spanish families, their friends and servants took place outdoors.

Now the two Camp Fire girls saw no one save their hosts and the one man servant; there was no faintest suggestion of the presence of a woman.

The place looked old and ramshackle, as if its owners had preferred to enjoy life rather than to improve their estate. Even the enclosed garden, notwithstanding it was a sheer glory of flowers, showed neglect.

A bougainvillea vine had been allowed to grow so large that it covered one-third of the veranda, hanging like a flowery canopy above one portion of the garden. Along the paths oleanders were set out in unpainted wooden tubs and the rose bushes had gone so long untrimmed that they were now of great size and covered with tiny white and yellow flowers.

Once this garden had been carefully planned and cared for, yet, perhaps, at present it held an even deeper charm.

Naturally, soon after their arrival their host, Mr. Philip Morris, had introduced himself and his younger companions, and Gerry Williams had given her own and Sally's name. Gerry also had explained the circ.u.mstances of Sally's accident and the fact that they were members of a camping party who were spending the summer on the California coast.

The young man who had originally attracted her attention proved to be the son of Mr. Morris. In introducing him the father accorded the Spanish p.r.o.nunciation to his name, "Felipe," which he had not used with his own.

Later it developed that Felipe's mother had been Spanish and the old ranch the property of her family from the days when California was a province of Spain. But as she was dead it was true that at present no woman was a member of their household.

The other young fellow, Merton Anderson, was the son of a neighbor and a guest. As he had ridden over to the Morris ranch on horseback he offered to take back any message Sally and Gerry might care to send their friends, for Mr. Morris insisted that Sally must not be moved again until she had seen a physician.

At last Gerry wrote a note to Mrs. Burton explaining what had occurred and asking advice. If it were possible would she not drive over to the ranch in her automobile and bear Sally safely back to camp?

CHAPTER VII

The Sacrifice of Youth

About ten o'clock on the evening of the same day Mrs. Burton and Mr.

Morris were sitting before the open door of the old Spanish house looking out over the countryside.

In the neighborhood of the California coast the moonlight has a rare brilliancy. The mists of the early morning and late afternoons usually disappear and seem to float overhead in white and silver clouds.

"You are very kind to allow us to impose upon your hospitality in this fas.h.i.+on, Mr. Morris," Mrs. Burton declared, in the voice whose rare quality gave even to her ordinary statements a charm beyond other persons. "I don't believe I have ever seen so beautiful a view in California as I am having from your house tonight, and yet a few hours ago I would not have believed this possible."

Immediately upon receipt of Gerry Williams' note Mrs. Burton had motored over to the Morris ranch, using Merton Anderson as her guide. She was anxious, of course, in regard to Sally's injuries, but anxious also to learn the character of her rescuers. Naturally the girls could not be allowed to remain alone over night with strangers. Unless Sally were in a really critical condition, she could certainly be moved without danger.

Within a few minutes after Mrs. Burton's arrival at the ranch, the physician who had been telephoned for some time before, appeared in answer to the summons.

After seeing Sally he announced that she was not seriously hurt, only bruised and shaken, and could be moved without difficulty. Despite this a.s.surance, the two girls and Mrs. Burton were spending the night at the ranch.

"I don't believe you appreciate, Mrs. Burton, how great a pleasure and an honor your presence in our home is both to my son and me. We are so far out of the world and with no women in our family are often extremely lonely. However, we are not so remote that we have not heard of Mrs.

Burton's distinguished reputation."

Mr. Morris spoke with an old-fas.h.i.+oned courtesy and admiration which no one could fail to appreciate.

His guest preferred not to talk of her professional life during her summer holidays with the Camp Fire girls.

"At least I am sure we shall never forget our own pleasure," Mrs. Burton returned. "The fact of the matter was I discovered at once that Sally and Gerry were determined upon remaining as soon as you and your son were kind enough to invite us. It is my private belief that Sally even pretended to be more seriously hurt in order to influence my decision.

She appears to be enjoying the role of injured heroine, and yet I can scarcely criticise the girls, as I did not require a great deal of persuasion."

As a matter of fact, soon after her arrival she also had fallen a victim to the beauty and romantic aspect of the old Spanish estate and to the charm and hospitality of its owners. Moreover, Mrs. Burton realized that Mr. Morris and his son were sincerely desirous of having them as guests.

Their invitation had not been merely a conventional one and the old house seemed to possess an almost indefinite number of shabby bedrooms.

With an expressive gesture of her hands Mrs. Burton suddenly arose and walked with her host to the edge of the hill which sloped down from the front of his house.

"You are not very far out of the world when, as you tell me, the new National Guard camp is being built on the broad mesa below you. Is it where I see the little row of lights? Wherever our soldiers are is the only world that is of much importance these days! I am to drive over soon and see the new cantonment. My Camp Fire girls and I are anxious to find out if we can be of the least possible service. Recently, for the first time in my life, there have been moments when I was sorry to be a woman."

"And yet it is a sadder thing to be an old man, Mrs. Burton. I offered my services at the beginning, but I am past sixty and--well--well, they were right, of course; I am not a trained soldier and not even a competent business man and I should only have been a nuisance."

In the impetuous fas.h.i.+on which had always been characteristic of her girlhood as Polly O'Neill and which she had never lost, Mrs. Burton turned around.

"Yes, it is hard. Women are not soldiers at heart, in spite of those thrilling Russian women and their great 'Battalion of Death.' We are not intended for the actual fighting and can only do our work behind the lines until the world is purified forever from the scourge of war. But you have your son to take your place."

For a few moments Mr. Morris made no reply. Then he replied slowly in a tone of hesitation and of embarra.s.sment:

"I wonder if you will allow me to make a confidant of you? I am in great trouble, Mrs. Burton, and although we were strangers before this evening I know your life must have taught you to understand human nature. My son does not wish to enter the war. I tried to persuade him to volunteer. He refused. Now the draft has come and his number has been called, he is still making every effort to escape military service, pleading exemption upon entirely unnecessary grounds. The fact is inexplicable to me. When my son was born my wife and I were no longer young and she died a short time after. Felipe has grown up here with me, with his friends and his flowers and his music, to which he is sincerely devoted, and nothing has ever been required of him. I knew he was indolent and selfish perhaps, but until the United States entered the war I failed to appreciate that Felipe was not a man. Another circ.u.mstance which has added to our difficulty, instead of clearing it away, is that Felipe and I have recently inherited a large sum of money. Until recently, as our home must have revealed to you, we have been poor and not very industrious.

Now our inheritance has made my son more than ever eager for a life of ease and pleasure. He has been planning to fix up the old place until it looks as it did many years ago. He wishes also to study singing, as he has a really beautiful voice, and has been talking of going to Spain, now that the other European countries are at present out of the question. You can see I scarcely know what to do. Felipe's exemption claim is almost sure to be denied, and yet I cannot discuss the matter with our friends and neighbors. I do not wish to prejudice them against my boy. What is it I can do, Mrs. Burton, when I confess to you that I appear to have no influence with my son upon the subject of his responsibility to his country?"

Mrs. Burton continued looking down upon the extraordinary view.

The hills toward the east were black and eerie, the sea to the west a s.h.i.+ning mirror, with the valleys like shadows in between.

"Mr. Morris, I wish you and your son would come over to our camp some day soon," she remarked later with apparent irrelevance. "Of course I wish you to know my sister, but I should also like you to meet her sons.

One of them, Dan Webster, is one of the finest type of American boys. He is strong and clean and good looking and has no dearer wish in life than to be allowed to volunteer. In another year I presume my sister will be forced to give her consent--Dan is only seventeen at present. My other nephew, Billy--well, I hardly know how to describe Billy, because he is like no other human being I have ever known. He is one of the most impossible and obstinate boys in the world, and one never knows from one moment to the next what he is going to do or say. At present he is the trial of all our lives at Sunrise camp; he has proclaimed himself a pacifist, and feels called upon to convert everybody he meets. He is filled with Tolstoi's beautiful theories of universal peace. As he is still too young for the draft his ideas so far have not proved a serious menace, and yet I worry over him a good deal. Nevertheless, do you know I am not sure Billy would not be as heroic as Dan if the test ever comes and he is once convinced peace can only follow the tragic sacrifice of war.

"I am not saying all this to you, Mr. Morris, because I am unsympathetic about your son. It is perhaps because I believe I may understand his att.i.tude. Forgive me if you do not agree with me, but I wonder if we older people are fully appreciating what tremendous sacrifices this war is demanding of youth. We have no right to expect all of them to give up their individual hopes and dreams for the future without hesitating and without flinching. They cannot all be made of the blood of heroes. The amazing fact is that so many of them have been. Personally I cannot help being a little sorry for your son. He will do the right thing in time, I am sure, but it cannot be easy to surrender this exquisite home and his ambition for a musical life. Felipe is probably afflicted with the artistic temperament, or else inspired by it, and the ways of the artistic temperament are past finding out," Mrs. Burton concluded, endeavoring to add a somewhat lighter tone to the conversation.

Her host shook his head gravely.

"You are very kind, Madame, and yet I am afraid I cannot accept your defense of my son. His ancestors were Spanish adventurers and soldiers and my own fought with Was.h.i.+ngton. However, I shall be delighted to visit your camp. One of the many reasons I wished to persuade you to remain over night with us was in order that Felipe might learn to know the girls who are with you. I fancied that he was immediately interested in one of them. Perhaps later she may prove an inspiration, a spur to him. American girls must have no patience with slackers these days. But suppose we cease talking about the war which haunts us all so everlastingly. Won't you walk with me and look at some of the other views about the old place by moonlight?"