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diff --git a/39599-8.txt b/39599-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d66c6dd --- /dev/null +++ b/39599-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8157 @@ +Project Gutenberg's The Little Colonel in Arizona, by Annie Fellows Johnston + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Little Colonel in Arizona + +Author: Annie Fellows Johnston + +Illustrator: Etheldred B. Barry + +Release Date: May 2, 2012 [EBook #39599] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LITTLE COLONEL IN ARIZONA *** + + + + +Produced by David Edwards, Emmy and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images generously made available by The +Internet Archive) + + + + + + + + +[Illustration: THE DUCK HUNT + + (_See page 168_)] + + + + +The Little Colonel in Arizona + +By ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON + + + Author of "The Little Colonel Series," "Big Brother," + "Ole Mammy's Torment," "Joel: A Boy of Galilee," + "Asa Holmes," etc. + + Illustrated by ETHELDRED B. BARRY + + [Illustration] + + BOSTON * L. C. PAGE + & COMPANY * PUBLISHERS + + + + + _Copyright, 1904_ + BY L. C. PAGE & COMPANY + + (INCORPORATED) + + _All rights reserved_ + + Published September, 1904 + + _Ninth Impression, March, 1908_ + + + + +CONTENTS + + + CHAPTER PAGE + I. MARY TELLS ALL SHE KNOWS 1 + II. A ROBINSON CRUSOE OF THE DESERT 19 + III. A DAY AT SCHOOL 38 + IV. WARE'S WIGWAM 56 + V. WHAT A LETTER BROUGHT ABOUT 78 + VI. WASH-DAY AND WASHINGTON 94 + VII. A SURPRISE 116 + VIII. IN THE DESERT OF WAITING 137 + IX. LLOYD'S DUCK HUNT 162 + X. THE SCHOOL OF THE BEES 179 + XI. THE NEW BOARDER AT LEE'S RANCH 193 + XII. PHIL HAS A FINGER IN THE PIE 212 + XIII. A CHANGE OF FORTUNE 231 + XIV. THE LOST TURQUOISES 253 + XV. LOST ON THE DESERT 272 + XVI. BACK TO DIXIE 293 + + + + +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS + + + PAGE + THE DUCK HUNT (_See page 168_) _Frontispiece_ + "SHE PROCEEDED WITH A JOYFUL HEART TO PAINT THE AFRICAN LION" 51 + "'WE ALLEE SAMEE LAK CHINAMEN,' HE SAID" 94 + "'I THOUGHT WE'D NEVAH, NEVAH GET HEAH!'" 128 + "ENJOYING EVERY MOMENT OF THE SUNNY AFTERNOON" 162 + "SHE LEANED OVER TO OFFER HIM THE LITTLE BASKET" 209 + "HE WAS HOLDING OUT BOTH FOREFINGERS" 244 + "CLATTERING DOWN THE ROAD AS FAST AS HIS FEET COULD CARRY + HIM" 279 + + + + +THE LITTLE COLONEL IN ARIZONA + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +MARY TELLS ALL SHE KNOWS + + +"JOYCE," said Jack Ware, stopping beside his sister's seat in the long, +Western-bound train, "I wish you'd go back into the observation-car, and +make Mary stop talking. She's telling all she knows to a couple of +strangers." + +"Why don't you do it?" asked Joyce, looking up from her magazine with a +teasing smile. "That dignified scowl of yours ought to frighten anything +into silence." + +"I did try it," confessed Jack. "I frowned and shook my head at her as I +passed, but all the good it did was to start her to talking about _me_. +'That's my brother Jack,' I heard her say, and her voice went through +the car like a fine-pointed needle. 'Isn't he big for fourteen? He's +been wearing long trousers for nearly a year.' They both turned to look +at me, and everybody smiled, and I was so embarrassed that I fell all +over myself getting out of sight. And it was a girl she said it to," he +continued, wrathfully. "A real pretty girl, about my age. The fellow +with her is her brother, I reckon. They look enough alike. He's a cadet +from some military school. You can tell by his uniform. They laugh at +everything that Mary says, and that makes her go on all the worse. So if +you don't want them to know all our family history, past, present, and +to come, you'd better go back and shut up that chatterbox. You know what +Mary's like when she gets started." + +"Yes, I know," sighed Joyce, "but I don't dare move now. Norman has just +fallen asleep, and he's been so restless all day that I don't want him +to waken until mamma has had her nap." She glanced down at the little +six-year-old brother stretched out on the seat beside her with his head +in her lap, and then across the aisle at her mother, lying with her +white face hidden among the shawls and pillows. + +"If I send for Mary to come back here, she'll flop around until she +wakes them both. Can't you get her out on to the rear platform for +awhile? I should think she would enjoy riding out there on one of those +little camp-stools. Slip one of those oranges into your pocket, and +whisper to her to follow you out and guess what you have for her." + +"Well, I'll try," said Jack, dubiously, "but I'm almost sure she won't +budge. It isn't every day she gets an audience like that. It flatters +her to have them laugh at everything she says, and as sure as I stop and +speak to her she'll say something that I don't want to hear." + +"Oh, never mind, then," said Joyce. "They are strangers, and probably +we'll never see them again, so it won't make any difference. Sit down +here and forget about them. You can have this magazine in a minute, just +as soon as I finish reading this half-page." + +But Jack did mind. He could not forget the amused glances that the +pretty girl had exchanged with her big brother, and after standing +irresolutely in the aisle a moment, he strolled back to the +observation-car. Slipping into a wicker chair near the door, he sat +waiting for Mary to look in his direction, so that he could beckon her +to come to him. + +Half the passengers had gone to sleep and forgotten that they were being +whirled across the great American Desert as fast as the limited +express-train could carry them. Some were reading, and some gazing out +of the windows at the monotonous wastes of sand. The only ones who +really seemed to be enjoying the journey were his small sister and her +audience of two. She sat on a footstool in the aisle, just in front of +them, a box of candy in her lap, and a look of supreme satisfaction on +her face. Two little braids of blond hair, tied with big bows of blue +ribbon, bobbed over her shoulders as she talked. Jack was too far away +to hear what she said, but his scowl deepened whenever the girl +exchanged amused glances with her brother. + +"This candy is almost as good as the fudge we used to make at home every +Saturday afternoon," said Mary, putting a chocolate-covered marshmallow +in her mouth, and gravely running her tongue around her lips. "But we'll +never again make any more fudge in that house." + +"Why not, dear?" asked the girl, with encouraging interest. This child +was the most diverting thing she had found on the long journey. + +"Oh, everything has come to an end now. Joyce says you can never go back +when you've burned your bridges behind you. It was certainly burning our +bridges when we sold the little brown house, for of course we could +never go back with strangers living in it. It was almost like a funeral +when we started to the train, and looked back for the last time. I +cried, because there was the Christmas-tree standing on the porch, with +the strings of popcorn and cranberries on it. We put it out for the +birds, you know, when we were done with it. When I saw how lonesome it +looked, standing out in the snow, and remembered that it was the last +Christmas-tree we'd ever have there, and that we didn't have a home any +more, why I guess _anybody_ would have cried." + +"Why did you sell the little home if you loved it so?" asked the girl. +It was not from any desire to pry into a stranger's affairs that she +asked, but merely to keep the child talking. + +"Oh, mamma was so ill. She had pneumonia, and there are so many +blizzards in Kansas, you know, that the doctor said she'd never get rid +of her cough if she stayed in Plainsville, and that maybe if we didn't +go to a warm place she wouldn't live till spring. So Mr. Link bought the +house the very next day, so that we could have enough money to go. He's +a lawyer. It used to be Link and Ware on the office door before papa +died. He's always been good to us because he was papa's partner, and he +gave Jack a perfectly grand gun when he found we were coming out among +the Indians. + +"Then the neighbours came in and helped us pack, and we left in a hurry. +To-morrow we'll be to the place where we are going, and we'll begin to +live in tents on New Year's Day. You'd never think this was the last day +of the old year, would you, it's so warm. I 'spose we'll be mixed up all +the time now about the calendar, coming to such a different climate." + +There was a pause while another marshmallow disappeared, then she +prattled on again. "It's to Lee's Ranch we are going, out in Arizona. +It's a sort of boarding-camp for sick people. Mrs. Lee keeps it. She's +our minister's sister, and he wrote to her, and she's going to take us +cheaper than she does most people, because there's so many of us. Joyce +and Jack and Holland and Norman and mamma and me makes an even +half-dozen. But we're going to keep house as soon as our things come and +we can get a place, and then I'll be glad that Jack has his gun. He +can't shoot very well yet, unless it's at something big like a stable +door, but you always feel safer, when there's Indians around, if you've +got something to bang at them." + +Here she lowered her voice confidentially. "Holland scared Norman and +me most to death one night. We were sitting on the rug in front of the +fire, before the lamp was lighted, saying what would we do s'posen an +Indian should come to the camp sometime, and try to scalp us, and just +when we were so scared we didn't dare look around behind us, he rolled +out from under the bed where he'd been hiding, and grabbed us by the +hair, with the awfullest whoop, that made us feel as if we'd been dipped +in ice-water. Why, we didn't stop yelling for half an hour. Norman had +the nightmare that night. We never did find out how Joyce punished +Holland, but what she did to him was plenty, for he hasn't scared us +since, not yet, though you never know when he's going to. + +"Joyce isn't afraid of anything on earth. You ought to hear about the +way she played ghost once, when she was in France. And she just talked +right up to the old monsieur who owned the Gate of the Giant Scissors, +and told him what she thought of him." + +"How old is this Joyce?" asked the tall young fellow whom his sister +called Phil. "She sounds interesting, don't you think, Elsie?" he said, +leaning over to help himself to a handful of candy. + +Elsie nodded with a smile, and Mary hastened to give the desired +information. "Oh, she's fifteen, going on sixteen, and she _is_ +interesting. She can paint the loveliest pictures you ever saw. She was +going to be an artist until all this happened, and she had to leave +school. Nobody but me knows how bad it made her feel to do that. I found +her crying in the stable-loft when I went up to say good-bye to the +black kitten, and she made me cross my heart and body I'd never tell, so +mamma thinks that she doesn't mind it at all. + +"Things have gone wrong at our house ever since I had the mumps," she +began again, when she had slowly crunched two burnt almonds. "Holland +sprained his wrist and mamma nearly died with pneumonia and Norman upset +the clothes-horse on the stove and burnt up a whole week's ironing. And +after that Jack had both ears frosted in a blizzard, and Bob, our +darling little fox-terrier that Joyce brought from Kentucky, was +poisoned." + +"That _was_ a list of misfortunes," exclaimed Phil, sympathetically, +"enough to discourage anybody." + +"Oh, at our house we never get discouraged to _stay_," answered Mary. +"Of course we feel that way at first, but Joyce always says 'Remember +the Vicar,' and then we stiffen." + +"The vicar," echoed Phil, much puzzled. + +"Yes, the Vicar of Wakefield, you know. Don't you remember what bad luck +they all had, about the green spectacles and everything, and he said, +'_Let us be inflexible, and fortune will at last change in our +favour!_'" + +"Was there ever anything funnier!" exclaimed Phil, in an aside, as this +bit of wisdom was rolled out with such a dramatic toss of the head, that +the big blue bows on the little blond braids bobbed wildly. "The idea of +a child like that reading the 'Vicar of Wakefield.'" + +"Oh, I didn't read him myself," answered Mary, eager to be entirely +truthful. "Joyce read it aloud to all the family last winter, and since +then we've all tried to do as the Vicar did, be inflexible when troubles +come. Even Norman knows that if you'll swallow your sobs and _stiffen_ +when you bump your head, or anything, that it doesn't hurt half so bad +as when you just let loose and howl." + +Jack started to his feet when he heard the laugh that followed, sure +that Mary was saying something that ought to be left unsaid. He reached +her just in time to hear her remark, "We're going to eat in the +dining-car to-night. Our lunch has all given out, and I'm glad of it, +for I never did eat in a dining-car, and I've always wanted to. We're +going to have ice-cream, if it doesn't cost too much." + +Jack's face was crimson as he bent down and whispered in Mary's ear, and +it grew several shades redder as she calmly answered aloud, "No, I don't +want to go out on the platform. It's blowing so hard, I'll get my eyes +full of sand." + +He bent again to whisper, this time savagely, and then turned back +toward the other car, not waiting for her answer. But it followed him +shrilly in an indignant tone: "It's no such a thing, Jack Ware! I'm not +telling all I know." + +A few minutes later a freckle-faced boy of twelve appeared in the door, +looking up and down the car with keen gray eyes. The moment his glance +fell on Mary, he started down the aisle toward her with such an air of +determination that she started up in dismay. + +"Oh, dear!" she exclaimed. "There's Holland beckoning for me. Now I've +got to go." + +"Why should you go for him rather than Jack?" asked Phil. "He isn't +nearly so big." + +"You don't know Holland," said Mary, taking a step forward. "He doesn't +mind making a scene anywhere we happen to be. If he was told to bring +me, he'd do it, if he had to drag me down the aisle by my hair. +Good-bye. I've had a mighty nice time, and I'm much obliged for the +candy." + +The Ware family were already seated in the dining-room when Phil and +Elsie went in to dinner a little later. Mary, over her soup, was giving +an enthusiastic account of her new acquaintances. "They're going to +their grandfather's in California," she said. "It's the most beautiful +place you ever heard of, with goldfish in the fountain, and Gold of +Ophir roses in the garden, and Dago, their old pet monkey, is there. +They had to send him away from home because he got into so much +mischief. And Miss Elsie Tremont, that's her name, is all in black +because her Great-Aunt Patricia is dead. Her Aunt Patricia kept house +for them, but now they live at their grandfather's. Mr. Phil is only +seventeen, but he's six feet tall, and looks so old that I thought maybe +he was thirty." + +"Gracious, Mary, how did you find out so much?" asked Joyce, with a +warning shake of the head at Norman, who was crumbling his bread into +his soup. + +"Oh, I asked him if he was married, and he laughed, and said he was only +seventeen, just a schoolboy, a cadet in a military academy out in +California. There they are now!" she added, excitedly, as the waiter +pulled out two chairs at the little table across the aisle. + +Both the newcomers smiled at Mary, who beamed broadly in response. Then +they gave a quick side-glance at the rest of the family. "What a +sweet-looking woman the little mother is," said Elsie, in a low tone, +"and Joyce _is_ interesting, but I wouldn't say she is exactly pretty, +would you?" + +"Um, I don't know," answered Phil, after another politely careless +glance in her direction. "She has a face you like to keep looking at. +It's so bright and pleasant, and her eyes are lovely. She'd be jolly +good company, I imagine, a sort of a surprise-party, always doing and +saying unusual things." + +In the same casual way, Joyce was taking note of them. She felt strongly +drawn toward the pretty girl in black, and wished that they were going +to the same place, so that she might make her acquaintance. Once when +they were all laughing at something Norman said, she looked up and +caught her eye, and they both smiled. Then Phil looked across with such +an understanding gleam of humour in his eyes that she almost smiled at +him, but checked herself, and looked down in her plate, remembering that +the handsome cadet was a stranger. + +The train stopped at a junction just as Mary finished her ice-cream, +which she had been eating as slowly as possible, in order to prolong the +pleasure. Finding that there would be a wait of nearly half an hour, +Joyce persuaded her mother to go back to the rear platform of the +observation-car, and sit out awhile, in the fresh air. Although the sun +was down, it was so warm that Mrs. Ware scarcely needed the shawl Joyce +drew around her shoulders. + +"I can't believe that this is the last day of December," she said to +Mary, as Joyce hurried into the station to make some inquiry of the +ticket-agent. "The last day of the old year," she added. "These +electric-lights and the band playing over there in the park, and all the +passengers promenading up and down in front of the station, bareheaded, +make it seem like a summer resort." + +Mary peered after the promenading passengers wistfully. The boys had +disappeared to watch the engine take water, and there was no one for her +to walk with. Just then, Phil and Elsie Tremont, sauntering along, +caught sight of her wistful little face. + +"Don't you want to come too?" asked Elsie, pausing. "You'll sleep better +for a little exercise." + +"Oh, yes!" was the delighted reply. "May I, mamma? It's Miss Elsie +Tremont, that I told you about, that ran away with a monkey and a +music-box when she was a little bit of a girl." + +"I'm afraid that with such an introduction you'll think I'm not a proper +person to trust your daughter with, Mrs. Ware," said Elsie, laughing, +"but I assure you I'll never run away again. That experience quite cured +me." + +"Probably Mary has given you just as alarming an impression of us," +answered Mrs. Ware. "She has never learned to regard any one as a +stranger, and all the world is her friend to confide in." + +"Wouldn't you like to walk a little while, too?" asked Elsie, stirred by +some faint memory of a delicate white face like this one, that years ago +used to smile out at her from a hammock in the Gold of Ophir rose +garden. She was only five years old the last time she saw her mother, +but the dim memory was a very sweet one. + +"Yes, come! It will do you good," urged Phil, cordially, influenced +partly by the same memory, and partly by the thought that here was a +chance to make the acquaintance of Joyce as well. According to her +little sister she was an unusually interesting girl, and the glimpse he +had had of her himself confirmed that opinion. + +So it happened to Joyce's great astonishment, as she hurried back to the +train, she met her mother walking slowly along beside Elsie. Phil, with +Mary chattering to him like an amusing little magpie, was just behind +them. Almost before she knew how it came about, she was walking with +them, listening first to Elsie, then to Phil, as they told of the +boarding-school she was going back to in California, and the Military +Academy in which he was a cadet. They had been back home to spend the +Christmas vacation with their father, whom they did not expect to see +again for a long time. He was a physician, and now on his way to Berlin, +where he expected to spend a year or two in scientific research. + +At the warning call of all aboard, they hurried back to the car just as +the boys came scrambling up the steps. Acquaintances grow almost as +rapidly on these long overland journeys across the continent as they do +on shipboard. The girls regretted the fact that they had not found each +other earlier, but Jack and Phil soon made up for lost time. Phil, who +had hunted wild goats among the rocks of Catalina Island, and Jack, who +expected unlimited shooting of quail and ducks at Lee's Ranch, were not +long in exchanging invitations for future hunting together, if either +should happen to stray into the other's vicinity. + +"I feel as if I had known you always," said Elsie to Joyce, as they +separated, regretfully, at bedtime, wondering if they ever would meet +again. "I wish you were going to the boarding-school with me." + +"I wish you were going to stop in Arizona," answered Joyce. "Maybe you +can come out to the ranch sometime, when you are on your way back East." + +"I think that we ought to all sit up together to see the old year out +and the new year in," protested Mary, indignant at being hurried off to +bed at half-past seven. + +"You'll see the change all right," remarked Jack, "and you'll have a +chance to make a night of it. We have to get off at Maricopa a little +after midnight, and there's no telling when that train for Phoenix will +come along. They say it's always behind time." + +Late that night, Elsie, wakened by the stopping of the train, looked at +her watch. The new year had just dawned. A brakeman went through the car +with a lantern. There were strange voices outside, a confusion of calls, +and the curtains of her berth swayed and shook as a number of people +hurried down the aisle, laden with baggage. Somebody tripped over a pair +of shoes, left too far out in the aisle, and somebody muttered a +complaint about always being wakened at Maricopa by people who had no +more consideration for the travelling public than to make their changes +in the dead of night. + +"Maricopa," she thought, starting up on her elbow. "That is where the +Wares are to get off." Raising the window-shade, she peered out into the +night. Yes, there they were, just going into the station. Jack and +Holland weighted down with baggage, Joyce helping the sweet-faced little +mother with one hand, and dragging the drowsy Norman after her with the +other, Mary sleepily bringing up the rear with her hat tipped over one +eye, and her shoe-strings tripping her at every step. + +"Bless her little soul, she's the funniest, fattest little chatterbox of +a girl I ever saw," thought Elsie, as she watched her stumble into the +station. "Good-bye, little vicar," she whispered, waving her hand. "May +you always keep inflexible. I wonder if I'll ever see any of them again. +I wish I were in a big family like that. They do have such good times +together." + +As the train pulled slowly out and went thundering on into the +darkness, she tried to go to sleep again, but for a long time, whenever +she closed her eyes, she saw the little house in Kansas that Mary had +described so vividly. There it stood, empty and deserted in the snow, +with the pathetic little Christmas-tree, left for the birds. And far +away, the family who loved it so dearly were facing blithely and bravely +the untried New Year, in which they were to make for themselves another +home, somewhere out on the lonely desert. + +"Oh, I do hope they'll keep 'inflexible,'" was Elsie's last waking +thought. "I do hope they'll have a happy New Year." + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +A ROBINSON CRUSOE OF THE DESERT + + +JOYCE stood in the door of the little adobe house, and looked out across +the desert with tears in her eyes. If _this_ was to be their home +through all the dreary years that stretched ahead of them, it hardly +seemed worth while to go on living. + +Jack, in the bare unfurnished room behind her, was noisily wielding a +hatchet, opening the boxes and barrels of household goods which had +followed them by freight. He did not know which one held his gun, but he +was determined to find it before the sun went down. + +For nearly three weeks they had been at Lee's Ranch, half a mile farther +down the road, waiting for the goods to come, and to find a place where +they could set up a home of their own. Boarding for a family of six was +far too expensive to be afforded long. Now the boxes had arrived, and +they had found a place, the only one for rent anywhere near the ranch. +Joyce felt sick at heart as she looked around her. + +"Here it is at last," called Jack, triumphantly, dropping the hatchet +and throwing pillows and bedding out of the box in reckless haste to +reach his most cherished possession, the fine hammerless shotgun which +Mr. Link had given him Christmas. He had intended to carry it with him +on the journey, in its carved leather case, but in the confusion of the +hurried packing, some well-meaning neighbour had nailed it up in one of +the boxes while he was absent, and there had been no time to rescue it. +He had worried about it ever since. + +"Oh, you beauty!" he exclaimed, rubbing his hand along the polished +stock as he drew it from the case. Sitting on the floor tailor-fashion, +he began whistling cheerfully as he fitted the parts together. + +"Joyce," he called, peering down the barrels to see if any speck of rust +had gathered in them, "do you suppose we brought any machine-oil with +us? I'll uncrate the sewing-machine if you think that the can is likely +to be in one of the drawers." + +"I don't know," answered Joyce, in such a hopeless tone that Jack +lowered his gun-barrels and stared at her in astonishment. Her back was +toward him, but her voice certainly sounded choked with tears. It was so +unusual for Joyce to cry that he felt that something very serious must +be the cause. + +"What's the matter, sister?" he inquired. "You aren't sick, are you?" + +"Yes!" she exclaimed, with a sob, turning and throwing herself down on +the pile of pillows he had just unpacked. "I'm sick of everything in +this awful country! I'm sick of the desert, and of seeing nothing but +invalids and sand and cactus and jack-rabbits wherever I go. And I'm +sick of the prospect of living in this little hole of a mud-house, and +working like a squaw, and never doing anything or being anything worth +while. If I thought I had to go on all my life this way, I'd want to die +right now!" + +Jack viewed her uneasily. "Goodness, Joyce! I never knew you to go all +to pieces this way before. You've always been the one to preach to us +when things went wrong, that if we'd be inflexible that fortune would at +last change in our favour." + +"Inflexible fiddlesticks!" stormed Joyce from the depths of a bolster, +where she had hidden her face, "I've been holding out against fate so +long that I can't do it any more, and I'm going to give up, right here +and now!" + +"Then I don't know what will become of the rest of us," answered Jack, +raising his empty gun to aim at a butcher-bird in the fig-tree outside +the door. "It's you that has always kept things cheerful when we were +down in the mouth." + +Joyce sat up and wiped her eyes. "I think that it must be that old +camel-back mountain out there that makes me feel so hopeless. It is so +depressing to see it kneeling there in the sand, day after day, like a +poor old broken-down beast of burden, unable to move another step. It is +just like us. Fate is too much for it." + +Jack's glance followed hers through the open door. Straight and level, +the desert stretched away toward the horizon, where a circle of +mountains seemed to rise abruptly from the sands, and shut them in. +There was Squaw's Peak on the left, cold and steely blue, and over on +the right the bare buttes, like mounds of red ore, and just in front was +the mountain they must face every time they looked from the door. Some +strange freak of nature had given it the form of a giant camel, five +miles long. There it knelt in the sand, with patient outstretched neck, +and such an appearance of hopeless resignation to its lot, that Joyce +was not the only one who found it depressing. More than one invalid, +sent to the surrounding ranches for the life-giving atmosphere of +Arizona, had turned his back on it with a shiver of premonition, saying, +"It's just like me! Broken-down, and left to die on the desert. Neither +of us will ever get away." + +It made no difference to Jack what shape the mountains took. He could +not understand Joyce's sensitiveness to her surroundings. But it made +him uncomfortable to see her so despondent. He sat hugging his gun in +silence a moment, not knowing how to answer her, and then began idly +aiming it first in one direction, then another. Presently his glance +happened to rest upon a battered book that had fallen from one of the +boxes. He drew it toward him with his foot. It was open at a familiar +picture, and on the opposite page was a paragraph which he had read so +many times, that he could almost repeat it from memory. + +"Hello!" he exclaimed. "Here's an old friend who was in as bad a fix as +we are, Joyce, and he lived through it." + +Leaning over, without picking up the book from the floor, he began +reading from the page, printed in the large type of a child's +picture-book: + +"'September 30, 1609. I, poor, miserable Robinson Crusoe, being +shipwrecked during a dreadful storm in the offing, came on shore this +dismal, unfortunate island, which I called the Island of Despair, all +the rest of the ship's company being drowned, and myself almost dead. +All the rest of the day I spent in afflicting myself at the dismal +circumstances I was brought to, viz., I had neither house, clothes, +weapons, nor place to fly to, and in despair of any relief saw nothing +but death before me, either that I should be devoured by wild beasts, +murdered by savages, or starved to death for want of food.'" + +A long pause followed. Then Joyce sat up, looking teased, and held out +her hand for the book. "I don't mind old Crusoe's preaching me a +sermon," she said, as she turned the tattered leaves. "Now he's done it, +I'll quit 'afflicting myself at the dismal circumstances I was brought +to.' I've wished a thousand times, when I was smaller, that I could have +been in his place, and had all his interesting adventures. And to think, +here we are at last, in almost as bad a plight as he was. Only we have a +weapon," she added, with a mischievous glance at the gun Jack was +holding. + +"And that means food, too," he answered, proudly, "for I expect to kill +many a quail and duck with this." + +"Oh, we're better off than Crusoe in a thousand ways, I suppose, if we'd +only stop to count our blessings," she answered, now ready to take a +more cheerful view of life since she had had her little outburst of +rebellion. "He didn't have a Chinaman driving by with fresh vegetables +twice a week, as we will have, and we have clothes, and a house, such as +it is, and a place to fly to, for Lee's Ranch will always be open to us +if we need a refuge." + +"So we can start at the place where Crusoe was when he really began to +enjoy his Island of Despair," said Jack. "Shall I go on unpacking these +things? I stopped when you announced that you were going to give up and +die, for I thought there wouldn't be any use trying to do anything, with +you in the dumps like that." + +Joyce looked around the dingy room. "It's not worth while to unpack till +the place has been scrubbed from top to bottom. If we're going to make a +home of it, we'll have to begin right. The landlord won't do anything, +and we could hardly expect him to, considering the small amount of rent +we pay, but I don't see how we can live in it without fresh paper and +paint." + +"I wish we'd find a ship cast up on the sands of the desert to-morrow," +said Jack, "that would have all sorts of supplies and tools in it. The +shipwrecks helped old Robinson out amazingly. I'd make a bookcase if we +did, and put up shelves and all sorts of things. This would be a fine +place to show what I learned in the manual training-school. We need +benches and rustic seats out under those umbrella-trees." + +"We'll have to buy some tools," said Joyce. "Let's make out a list of +things we need, and go to town early in the morning. Mrs. Lee said we +could borrow Bogus and the surrey to-morrow." + +"All right," assented Jack, ready for anything that promised change. + +"And _Jack_!" she exclaimed, after a long slow survey of the room, +"let's paint and paper this place ourselves! I'm sure we can do it. +There's a tape measure in one of the machine drawers. Suppose you get it +out and measure the room, so we'll know how much paper to buy." + +Joyce was her old brave, cheery self again now, giving orders like a +major-general, and throwing herself into the work at hand with +contagious enthusiasm. With the stub of a pencil Jack found in his +pocket, she began making a memorandum on the fly-leaf of Robinson +Crusoe. "Paint, turpentine, brushes, screws, nails, saw, mop, broom, +scrubbing-brush, soap," she wrote rapidly. + +"And a hatchet," added Jack. "This one belongs to the Mexican at the +ranch. And, oh, yes, an axe. He says that Holland and I can get all the +wood we need right here on the desert, without its costing us a cent, if +we're willing to chop it; mesquite roots, you know, and greasewood." + +"It's fortunate we can get something without paying for it," commented +Joyce, as she added an axe to the list. Then she sat studying the +possibilities of the room, while Jack knocked the crate from the +machine, found the tape measure, and did a sum in arithmetic to find the +amount of paper it would take to cover the walls. + +"I can see just how it is going to look when we are all through," she +said, presently. "When this old dark woodwork is painted white, and +these dismal walls are covered with fresh light paper, and there are +clean, airy curtains at the windows, it won't seem like the same place. +Mamma mustn't see it till it is all in order." + +Exhausted by the journey, Mrs. Ware had been too weak to worry over +their future, or even to wonder what would become of them, and had +handed over the little bank-book to Joyce. + +"Make it go just as far as it will, dear," she said. "You are too young +to have such a load laid on your shoulders, but I see no other way now." +Joyce had taken up the burden of responsibility so bravely that no one +but Jack knew of her moments of discouragement, and he was forgetting +her recent tears in her present enthusiasm. + +"Oh, I wish it was to-morrow," she exclaimed, "and we had all our +supplies bought so that we could begin." + +"So do I," answered Jack. "But it's nearly sundown now, and the +supper-bell will be ringing before we get back to the ranch, if we don't +start soon." + +"Well, lock the doors, and we'll go," said Joyce, beginning to pin on +her hat. + +"Oh, what's the use of being so particular! Mrs. Lee says everybody is +honest out in this country. They never turn a key on the ranch, and +they've never had anything taken either by Mexicans or Indians in all +the years they've lived here. It isn't half as wild as I hoped it would +be. I wish I could have been a pioneer, and had some of the exciting +times they had." + +Nevertheless, Jack barred the back door and locked the front one, before +following Joyce across the yard, and over the little bridge spanning the +irrigating canal, into the public road. They stood there a moment, +looking back at the house, just one big square adobe room, with a +shed-kitchen in the rear. Around three sides of it ran a rough sort of +porch or shack, built of cottonwood posts, supporting a thatch of +bamboo-stalks and palm-leaves. While it would afford a fine shelter from +the sun in the tropical summer awaiting them, it was a homely, +primitive-looking affair, almost as rough in its appearance as if +Robinson Crusoe himself had built it. + +"It's hopeless, isn't it!" said Joyce, with a despairing shake of the +head. "No matter how homelike we may make it inside, it will always be +the picture of desolation outside." + +"Not when the leaves come out on that row of umbrella-trees," answered +Jack. "Mrs. Lee says they will be so green and bushy that they will +almost hide the house, and the blossoms on them in the spring are as +purple and sweet as lilacs. Then this row of fig-trees along the road, +and the clump of cottonwoods back of the house, and those two big +pepper-trees by the gate will make it cool and shady here, no matter +how scorching hot the desert may be. We'll have to give them lots of +water. Oh, that reminds me, I'll have to have a pair of rubber boots, if +I am to do the irrigating. The water will be in again day after +to-morrow." + +Joyce groaned as she opened the book she was carrying, and added boots +to the long list on the fly-leaf. "What a lot it's going to take to get +us started. Crusoe certainly had reason to be thankful for the +shipwrecked stores he found." + +"But it'll cost less to get the boots than to hire a Mexican every eight +days to do the irrigating," said Jack. + +Following the road beside the canal, they walked along in the last rays +of the sunset, toward the ranch. Birds twittered now and then in the +fig-trees on their right, or a string of cows went lowing homeward +through the green alfalfa pastures, to the milking. The road and canal +seemed to run between two worlds, for on the left it was all a dreary +desert, the barren sands stretching away toward the red buttes and old +Camelback Mountain, as wild and cheerless as when the Indians held +possession. Some day it too would "rejoice and blossom like the rose," +but not until a network of waterways dug across it brought it new life. + +Once as they walked along, a jack-rabbit crossed their path and went +bounding away in a fright. A covey of quail rose with a loud whirr of +wings from a clump of bushes beside the road, but they met no human +being until Holland and Mary, just from school, came racing out from the +ranch to meet them with eager questions about the new home. + +Chris, the Mexican, had made the round of the tents, building a little +fire of mesquite wood in each tiny drum stove, for in February the air +of the desert grows icy as soon as the sun disappears. Mrs. Ware was +sitting in a rocking-chair between the stove and table, on which stood a +lamp with a yellow shade, sending a cheerful glow all over the tent. +Joyce took the remaining chair, Jack sat on the wood-box, and Mary, +Norman and Holland piled upon the bed, to take part in the family +conclave. The canvas curtain had been dropped over the screen-door, and +the bright Indian rugs on the floor gave a touch of warmth and cosiness +to the tent that made it seem wonderfully bright and homelike. + +"I don't see," said Mary, when she had listened to a description of the +place, "how we are all going to eat and sleep and live in one room and a +kitchen. It takes three tents to hold us all here, besides having the +ranch dining-room to eat in. What if Eugenia Forbes should come from +the Waldorf-Astoria to visit us, or the Little Colonel, or some of the +other girls from Kentucky, that you knew at the house-party, Joyce? +Where would they sleep?" + +"Yes," chimed in Holland, teasingly, "or the Queen of Sheba? Suppose +_she_ should come with all her train. It's about as likely. We would +have to play 'Pussy wants a corner' all night, Mary, and whoever +happened to be 'it' would have to sit up until he happened to find +somebody out of his corner." + +"Goosey!" exclaimed Mary, sticking out her tongue at him and making the +worst face she could screw up. "Honestly, what would we do, Joyce?" + +"We're not going to try to live in just one room," explained Joyce. "The +doctor said mamma ought to sleep in a tent, so we'll get a big double +one like this, wainscoted up high, with floor and screen-door, just like +this. Mamma and you and I can use that, and the boys will have just an +ordinary camping-tent, without door or floor. They have been so wild to +be pioneers that they will be glad to come as near to it as possible, +and that means living without extra comforts and conveniences. In the +house one corner of the room will be the library, where we'll put papa's +desk, and one corner will be the sewing-room, where we'll have the +machine, and one will be a cosy corner, with the big lounge and lots of +pillows. If the Queen of Sheba or the Little Colonel should do such an +improbable thing as to stray out here, we'll have a place for them." + +"There goes the supper-bell," cried Norman, scrambling down from the bed +in hot haste to beat Mary to the table. Joyce waited to turn down the +lamp, close the stove draughts, and bring her mother's shawl, before +following them. + +"How bright the camp looks with a light in every tent," she said, as +they stepped out under the stars. "They look like the transparencies in +the torchlight processions, that we used to have back in Plainsville." + +Mrs. Ware's tent was in the front row, so it was only a step to the door +of the dining-room in the ranch house. The long table was nearly filled +when they took their seats. Gathered around it were people who had +drifted there from all parts of the world in search of lost health. A +Boston law-student, a Wyoming cowboy, a Canadian minister, a Scotchman +from Inverness, and a jolly Irish lad from Belfast were among the +number. + +The most interesting one to Joyce was an old Norwegian who sat opposite +her, by the name of Jan Ellestad. Not old in years, for his hair was +still untouched by gray, and his dark eyes flashed at times with the +spirit of the old vikings, when he told the folk-lore of his fatherland. +But he was old in sad experiences, and broken health, and broken hopes. +The faint trace of a foreign accent that clung to his speech made +everything he said seem interesting to Joyce, and after Mrs. Lee had +told her something of his history, she looked upon him as a hero. This +was the third winter he had come back to the ranch. He knew he could not +live through another year, and he had stopped making plans for himself, +but he listened with unfailing cheerfulness to other people's. Now he +looked up expectantly as Joyce took her seat. + +"I can see by your face, Miss Joyce," he said, in his slow, hesitating +way, as if groping for the right words, "that you are about to plunge +this ranch into another wild excitement. What is it now, please?" + +"Guess!" said Joyce, glancing around the table. "Everybody can have one +guess." + +During the three weeks that the Wares had been on the ranch they had +made many friends among the boarders. Most of them could do little but +sit in the sun and wait for the winter to creep by, so they welcomed +anything that relieved the monotony of the long idle days. Mary's +unexpected remarks gave fresh zest to the conversation. The boys, +bubbling over with energy and high spirits, were a constant source of +entertainment, and Joyce's enthusiasms were contagious. She was +constantly coming in from the desert with some strange discovery to +arouse the interest of the listless little company. + +Now, as her challenge passed around the table, any one hearing her laugh +at the amusing replies would not have dreamed that only a few hours +before she was sobbing to Jack that she was sick of seeing nothing but +invalids and sand and cactus. + +"We haven't any name for our new home," she announced, "and I'm thinking +of having a name contest. Any one can offer an unlimited number, and the +best shall receive a prize." + +"Then I'll win," responded the Scotchman, promptly. "There's nae mair +appropriate name for a wee bit lodging-place like that, than +_Bide-a-wee_." + +"That is pretty," said Joyce, repeating it thoughtfully. "I love the old +song by that name, but I'm afraid that it isn't exactly appropriate. You +see, we may have to bide there for years and years instead of just a +wee." + +"Give it a Spanish name," said the minister. "Alamo means cottonwood, +and you have a group of cottonwoods there. That would be just as good as +naming it The Pines, or The Oaks, or The Beeches." + +"No, call it something Indian," said the cowboy. "Something that means +little-mud-house-in-the-desert, yet has a high-sounding swing to the +syllables." + +"Wait till we get through fixing it," interrupted Jack. "It'll look so +fine that you won't dare call it little-mud-house-in-the-desert. We're +going to paint and paper it ourselves." + +"Not you two children," exclaimed the Norwegian, in surprise. + +"With our own lily fingers," answered Joyce. + +"Then you'll have an interested audience," he answered. "You'll find all +of us who are able to walk perching in the fig-trees outside your door +every morning, waiting for the performance to begin." + +"Whoever perches there will have to descend and help, won't they, Jack?" +said Joyce, saucily. + +"Oh, mamma," whispered Mary, "is Mr. Ellestad really going to climb up +in the fig-tree and watch them? _Please_ let me stay home from school +and help. I know I can't study if I go, for I'll be thinking of all the +fun I'm missing." + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +A DAY AT SCHOOL. + + +IT was with a most unwilling mind and an unhappy heart that Mary began +her third week at school. In the first place she could not bear to tear +herself away from all that was going on at the new house. She wanted to +have a hand in the dear delights of home-making. She wanted to poke the +camp-fire, and dabble in the paste, and watch the walls grow fresh and +clean as the paper spread over the old patches. The smell of the fresh +paint drew her, and gave her a feeling that there were all sorts of +delightful possibilities in this region, yet unexplored. + +In the second place, life in the new school was a grievous burden, +because the boys, seeing how easily she was teased, found their chief +pleasure in annoying her. She was a trusting little soul, ready to +nibble the bait that any trap offered. + +"Never mind! You'll get used to it after awhile," her mother said, +consolingly, each evening when she came home with a list of fresh woes. +"You're tired now from that long walk home. Things will seem better +after supper." And Joyce would add, "Don't look so doleful, Mother +Bunch; just remember the vicar, and keep inflexible. Fortune is bound to +change in your favour after awhile." But the third Friday found her as +unhappy as the third Monday. + +There were two rooms in the school building, one containing all the +primary classes, the other the grammar grades, where Holland found a +place. Mary had one of the back seats in the primary department, and one +of the highest hooks in the cloak-room, on which to hang her belongings. +But this Friday morning she did not leave her lunch-basket in either +place. + +She and Patty Ritter, the little girl who sat across the aisle from her, +had had an indignation-meeting the day before, and agreed to hide their +baskets in a hedgerow, so that there could be no possibility of Wig +Smith's finding them. Salt on one's jelly cake and pepper in one's +apple-pie two days in succession is a little too much to be borne +calmly. Wig Smith's fondness for seasoning other people's lunches was +only one of his many obnoxious traits. + +"There," said Mary, scanning the horizon anxiously, to see that no +prowling boy was in sight. "Nobody would think of looking behind that +prickly cactus for a lunch-basket! We're sure of not going hungry +to-day!" + +With their arms around each other, they strolled back to the +schoolhouse, taking a roundabout way, with great cunning, to throw Wig +Smith off the track, in case he should be watching. But their +precautions were needless this time. Wig had set up a dentist's +establishment on the steps of the stile, his stock in trade being a +pocket-knife and a hat full of raw turnips. Nothing could have been +friendlier than the way he greeted Mary and Patty, insisting that they +each needed a set of false teeth. Half a dozen of his friends had +already been fitted out, and stood around, grinning, in order to show +the big white turnip teeth he had fitted over the set provided by +Nature. As the teeth were cut in irregular shapes, wide square-tipped +ones alternating with long pointed fangs, and the upper lip had to be +drawn tightly to hold them in place, the effect was so comical that they +could hardly hold the new sets in position for laughing at each other. + +In payment for his work, Wig accepted almost anything that his customers +had to offer: marbles, when he could get them, pencils, apples, +fish-hooks, even a roll of tin-foil, saved from many chewing-gum +packages, which was all one girl had to trade. + +A search through Mary's orderly pencil-box failed to show anything that +he wanted of hers, but the neatly prepared home lesson which fluttered +out of her arithmetic caught his eye. He agreed to make her the teeth +for a copy of six problems which he could not solve. Mary had much the +hardest part of the bargain, for, sitting on the stile, she patiently +copied long-division sums until the second bell rang, while he turned +off the teeth with a few masterful strokes of his knife. + +"Let's all put them in as soon as we're done singing, and wear them till +we recite spelling," he suggested. "It's mighty hard to keep from +chawin' on 'em after they've been in your mouth awhile. Let's see who +can keep them in longest. Every five minutes by the clock, if the +teacher isn't lookin', we'll all grin at onct to show that they're still +in." + +Needless to say, the usual Friday morning studiousness did not prevail +in the primary room that morning. Too many eyes were watching the clock +for the moment of display to arrive, and when it did arrive, the +coughing and choking that was set up to hide the titters, plainly told +the teacher that some mischief was afoot. If she could have turned in +time to see the distorted faces, she must have laughed too, it was such +a comical sight, but she was trying to explain to a row of stupid little +mathematicians the mysteries of borrowing in subtraction, and always +looked up a moment too late. + +Mary Ware, having written every word of her spelling lesson from memory, +and compared it with her book to be sure that she knew it, now had a +quarter of an hour of leisure. This she devoted to putting her desk in +order. The books were dusted and piled in neat rows. Everything in her +pencil-box was examined, and laid back with care, the slate-rag folded +and tucked under the moist sponge. There was another box in her desk. It +had bunches of violets on it and strips of lace-paper lining the sides. +It smelled faintly of the violet soap it had once held. She kept several +conveniences in this, pins, and an extra hair-ribbon in case of loss, a +comb, and a little round mirror with a celluloid back, on which was +printed the advertisement of a Plainsville druggist. + +As she polished the little mirror, the temptation to use it was too +great to resist. Holding it under the desk, she stretched her lips back +as far as possible in a grotesque grin, to show her set of turnip teeth. +They looked so funny that she tried it again with variations, rolling +her eyes and wrinkling her nose. So absorbed was she that she did not +realize that a silence had fallen in the room, that the recitation had +stopped and all eyes were turned upon her. Then her own name, spoken in +a stern tone, startled her so that she bounced in her seat and dropped +the mirror. + +"Why, _Mary Ware_! I'm _astonished_! Come here!" + +Blushing and embarrassed at being called into public notice, Mary +stumbled up to the platform, and submitted to an examination of her +mouth. Then, following orders, she went to the door, and with much +sputtering spat the teeth out into the yard. + +"I'll see you about this after school," remarked the teacher, sternly, +as she stumbled back to her seat, overcome by mortification. + +If the teacher had not been so busy watching Mary obey orders, she would +have noticed a rapid moving of many jaws along the back row of seats, +and a mighty gulping and swallowing, as the other sets of teeth +disappeared down the throats of their owners. + +"So this has been the cause of so much disturbance this morning," she +remarked, crossly. "I'm astonished that one of the quietest pupils in +the school should have behaved in such a manner." Then as a precaution +she added, "Is there any one else in the room who has any of these +turnip teeth? Raise your hands if you have." + +Not a hand went up, and every face met Mary's indignant accusing gaze +with such an innocent stare that she cried out: + +"Oh, what a story!" + +"Open your mouths," commanded the teacher. "Turn your pockets wrong side +out." + +To Mary's amazement, nobody had so much as a taste of turnip to show, +and she stood accused of being the only offender, the only one with +judgment awaiting her after school. With her head on her desk, and her +face hidden on her arms, she cried softly all through the spelling +recitation. "It wasn't fair," she sobbed to herself. + +Patty comforted her at recess with half her stick of licorice, and +several of the other girls crowded around her, begging her to come and +play Bird, and not to mind what the boys said, and not to look around +when Wig Smith mimicked the teacher's manner, and called after her in a +tantalizing tone, "Why, Mary Ware! I'm _astonished_!" + +Gradually they won her away from her tears, and before recess was over +she was shrieking with the gayest of them as they raced around the +schoolhouse to escape the girl who, being "It," personated the "bad +man." + +As they dropped into their seats at the close of recess, hot and +panting, a boy from the grammar room came in and spoke to the teacher. +It was Paul Archer, a boy from New York, whose father had recently +bought a ranch near by. He held up a string of amber beads, as the +teacher asked, "Does this belong to any one in this room?" + +They were beautiful beads. Mary caught her breath as she looked at them. +"Like drops of rain strung on a sunbeam," she thought, watching them +sparkle as he turned and twisted the string. Paul was a big boy, very +clean and very good-looking, and as little Blanche Ellert came up to +claim her necklace, blushing and shaking back her curls, he held it out +with such a polite, dancing-school bow that Mary's romantic little soul +was greatly impressed. She wished that the beautiful beads had been +hers, and that she had lost them, and could have claimed them before the +whole school, and had them surrendered to her in that princely way. She +would like to lose a ring, she thought, that is, if she had one, or a +locket, and have Paul find it, and give it to her before the whole +school. + +Then she remembered that she had worn her best jacket to school that +morning, and in the pocket was a handkerchief that had been hung on the +Sunday-school Christmas-tree for her in Plainsville. It was a little +white silk one, embroidered in the corners with sprays of +forget-me-nots, blue, with tiny pink buds. What if she should lose that +and Paul should find it, and hold up the pretty thing in sight of all +the school for her to claim? + +As the morning wore on, the thought pleased her more and more. The +primary grades were dismissed first at noon, so she had time to slip the +handkerchief from her jacket-pocket, tiptoe guiltily into the other +cloak-room, and drop it under a certain wide-brimmed felt hat, which +hung on its peg with a jauntier grace than the other caps and sombreros +could boast. It seemed to stare at her in surprise. Half-frightened by +her own daring, she tiptoed out again, and ran after Patty, who was +hunting for her outside. + +"There won't be any salt in our cake and pepper in our pie to-day," +Patty said, confidently, as they strolled off together with their arms +around each other. "Let's get our baskets, and go away off out of sight +to eat our dinners. I know the nicest place down by the lateral under +some cottonwood-trees. The water is running to-day." + +"It'll be like having a picnic beside a babbling brook," assented Mary. +"I love to hear the water gurgle through the water-gate." + +Seated on a freshly hewn log, after a careful survey had convinced them +that no lizards, Gila monsters, or horned toads lurked underneath, the +little girls opened their baskets, and shook out their napkins. The next +instant a wail rose from them in unison: + +"Ants! Nasty little black ants! They're over everything!" + +"Just look at my chicken sandwiches," mourned Mary, "and all that lovely +gingerbread. They're walking all over it and through it and into it and +around it. There isn't a spot that they haven't touched!" + +"And my mince turnovers," cried Patty. "I brought one for you to-day, +too, and a devilled egg. But there isn't a thing in my basket that's fit +to eat." + +"Nor mine, either," said Mary, "except the apples. We might wash them in +the lateral." + +"And I'm nearly starved, I'm so hungry," grumbled Patty. "An apple's +better than nothing, but it doesn't go very far." + +"It's no use to go and ask Holland for any of his lunch," said Mary. "By +this time he's gobbled up even the scraps, and busted the bag. He always +brings his in a paper bag, so's there'll be no basket to carry home." + +Cautiously leaning over the bank of the lateral, Mary began dabbling her +apple back and forth in the water, and Patty, kneeling beside her, +followed her example. Suddenly Patty's apple slipped out of her hand, +and she clutched frantically at Mary's arm in her effort to save it, and +at the same time keep her balance. Both swayed and fell sideways. Mary's +arm plunged into the water, wetting her sleeve nearly to her shoulder, +but, clawing at the earth and long grass with the other hand, she +managed, after much scrambling, to regain her position. + +Patty, with a scream, rolled over into the water. The ditch was shallow, +not more than waist-deep, but as she had fallen full length, she came up +soaking wet. Even her hair dripped muddy little rivers down over her +face. There was no more school for Patty that day. As soon as her old +yellow horse could be saddled, she started off on a lope toward dry +clothes and a hot dinner. + +Mary looked after her longingly, as she sat with her sleeve held out in +the sun to dry, and slowly munched her one cold apple. She was so hungry +and miserable that she wanted to cry, yet this child of nine was a +philosopher in her small way. + +"I'm not having half as bad a time as the old vicar had," she said to +herself, "so I won't be a baby. Seems to me, though, that it's about +time fortune was changing in my favour. Maybe the turn will be when Paul +finds my forget-me-not handkerchief." + +With that time in view, she carefully smoothed the wrinkles out of her +sleeve as it dried, and pulled the lace edging into shape around the +cuff. Then she combed the front of her hair, and retied the big bows. +She was not equal to the task of braiding it herself, but a glance into +the little celluloid mirror satisfied her that she looked neat enough to +march up before the school when the time should come for her to claim +her handkerchief. + +Every time the door opened before the afternoon recess she looked up +expectantly, her cheeks growing red and her heart beating fast. But no +Paul appeared, or anybody else who had found anything to be restored to +its owner. She began to feel anxious, and to wonder if she would ever +see her beloved forget-me-not handkerchief again. + +At recess she dodged back into the hall after every one had passed out, +and stole a quick glance into the other cloak-room. The handkerchief was +gone. Somebody had picked it up. Maybe the finder had been too busy to +search for the owner. It would be brought in before school closed; just +before dismissal probably. The prospect took part of the sting out of +the recollection that she was to be kept after school that evening, for +the first time in her life. + +During the last period in the afternoon, the A Geography class always +studied its lesson for next day. Mary specially liked this study, and +with her little primary geography propped up in front of her, carefully +learned every word of description, both large print and small, on the +page devoted to Africa. + +"Your hair is coming undone," whispered the girl behind her. "Let me +plait it for you. I love to fool with anybody's hair." + +Mary nodded her consent without turning around, and sat up straight in +her seat, so that Jennie could reach it with greater ease. She never +took her eyes from the page. The teacher, who was putting home +lessons on the board for the D Arithmetic to copy, was too busy to +notice Jennie's new occupation. + +[Illustration: "SHE PROCEEDED WITH A JOYFUL HEART TO PAINT THE AFRICAN +LION"] + +Mary enjoyed the soft touch of Jennie's fingers on her hair. It felt so +good to have it pulled into place with smooth, deft pats here and there. +After the bows were tied on, Jennie still continued to play with it, +braiding the ends below the ribbon into plaits that grew thinner and +thinner, until they ended in points as fine and soft as a camel's-hair +paint-brush. Evidently they suggested brushes to Jennie, for presently +she dived into her desk for something quite foreign to school work. It +was a little palette-shaped card on which were arranged seven cakes of +cheap water-colour paint. The brush attached to the palette had been +lost on Christmas Day, before she had had more than one trial of her +skill as an artist. + +The water-bottle, which held the soap-suds devoted to slate-cleaning, +stood behind the pile of books in her desk. She drew that out, and, +having uncorked it, carefully dipped the end of one of Mary's braids +into it. Then rubbing it across the cake of red paint, she proceeded +with a joyful heart to paint the African lion in her geography the most +brilliant red that can be imagined. + +Mary, still enjoying the gentle pull, little guessed what a bloody tip +swung behind her right shoulder. Then the caressing touch was +transferred to the left braid, and the greenest of green Bedouins, +mounted on the most purple of camels, appeared on the picture of the +Sahara. + +The signal for dismissal, sounding from the principal's room across the +hall, surprised both the girls. The time had passed so rapidly. Mary, +putting her hand back to feel if her bows were properly tied, suddenly +jerked her right braid forward in alarm. The end was wet, and--was it +_blood_ that made it so red? With a horrified expression she clutched +the other one, and finding that wet and green, turned squarely around in +her seat. She was just in time to see the geography closing on the red +lion and green Bedouin, and realized in a flash how Jennie had been +"fooling" with her hair. + +Before she could sputter out her indignation, the teacher rapped sharply +on the table for attention. "Will you _please_ come to order, Mary +Ware?" she said, sternly. "Remember, you are to remain after the others +are dismissed." + +To have been publicly reprimanded twice in one day, to have been kept +after school, to have had one's lunch spoiled by ants, and to have been +left miserably hungry all afternoon, to have had the shock of a plunge +almost to the shoulder in icy water, and the discomfort of having a wet +sleeve dried on one's arm, to have had one's hair used as paint-brushes, +so that stains were left on the back of the new gingham dress, was too +much. Mary could keep inflexible no longer. Then she remembered that no +one had brought back the forget-me-not handkerchief, and with that to +cap her woes, she laid her head down on the desk and sobbed while the +others filed out and left her. + +Usually, Holland found her waiting for him by the stile when the grammar +grades were dismissed, but not seeing her there, he forgot all about +her, and dashed on after the boy who tagged him. Then he and George Lee +hurried on home to set a new gopher-trap they had invented, without +giving her a thought. The faithful Patty, who always walked with her as +far as the turn, had not come back to school after her plunge into the +lateral. So it came about that when Mary finally put on her hat and +jacket in the empty cloak-room, the playground was deserted. As far as +her tear-swollen eyes could see up and down the road, not a child was in +sight. With a sob, she stood a moment on the top step of the stile, then +slowly swinging her lunch-basket, in which there were no scraps as +usual to appease her after-school hunger, she started on the long, +two-mile walk home. + +It looked later than it really was, for the sun was not shining. She had +gone on a long way, when a sound of hoofs far down the road made her +look back. What she saw made her give another startled glance over her +shoulder, and quicken her pace. Half-running, she looked back again. The +sound was coming nearer. So was the rider. Another glance made her stand +still, her knees shaking under her; for on the pony was an Indian, a +big, stolid buck, with black hair hanging in straight locks over his +shoulders. + +She looked wildly around. Nobody else was in sight, no house anywhere. +The biggest man-eating tiger in the jungles could not have terrified her +like the sight of that lone Indian. All the tales that Jack and Holland +had told for their mutual frightening, all that she had read herself of +tortures and cruelties came into her mind. Their name was legion, and +they were startlingly fresh in her memory, for only the evening before +she had finished a book called "On the Borders with Crook," and the +capture of the Oatman girls had been repeated in her dreams. + +Sure that the Indian intended to tomahawk her the instant he reached +her, she gave one stifled gasp of terror, and started down the road as +fast as her fat little legs could carry her. A few rods farther on her +hat flew off, but she was running for her life, and even the handsome +steel buckle that had once been Cousin Kate's could not be rescued at +such a risk. + +She felt that she was running in a treadmill. Her legs were going up and +down, up and down, faster than they had ever moved before, but she +seemed to be making no progress; she was unable to get past that one +spot in the road. And the Indian was coming on nearer and nearer, with +deadly certainty, gaining on her at every breath. She felt that she had +been running for a week, that she could not possibly take another step. +But with one more frantic glance backward, she gave another scream, and +dashed on harder than before. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +WARE'S WIGWAM + + +PHIL TREMONT, driving out from Phoenix in a high, red-wheeled cart, +paused at the cross-roads, uncertain whether to turn there or keep on to +the next section-line. According to part of the directions given him, +this was the turning-place. Still, he had not yet come in sight of +Camelback Mountain, which was to serve as a guide-post. Not a house was +near at which he might inquire, and not a living thing in sight except a +jack-rabbit, which started up from the roadside, and bounded away at his +approach. + +Then he caught sight of the little whirl of dust surrounding Mary in her +terrified flight, and touched his horse with the whip. In a moment he +was alongside of the breathless, bareheaded child. + +"Little girl," he called, "can you tell me if this is the road to Lee's +ranch?" Then, as she turned a dirty, tear-stained face, he exclaimed, in +amazement, "Of all people under the sun! The little vicar! Well, you +_are_ a sprinter! What are you racing with?" + +Mary sank down on the road, so exhausted by her long run that she +breathed in quick, gasping sobs. Her relief at seeing a white face +instead of a red one was so great that she had no room for surprise in +her little brain that the face should be Phil Tremont's, who was +supposed to be far away in California. She recognized him instantly, +although he no longer wore his uniform, and the broad-brimmed hat he +wore suggested the cowboy of the plains rather than the cadet of the +military school. + +"What are you racing with?" he repeated, laughingly. "That jack-rabbit +that passed me down yonder?" + +"A--a--a _Indian_!" she managed to gasp. "He chased me--all the +way--from the schoolhouse!" + +"An Indian!" repeated Phil, standing up in the cart to look back down +the road. "Oh, it must have been that old fellow I passed half a mile +back. He was an ugly-looking specimen, but he couldn't have chased you; +his pony was so stiff and old it couldn't go out of a walk." + +"He _was_ a-chasing me!" insisted Mary, the tears beginning to roll down +her face again. She looked so little and forlorn, sitting there in a +heap beside the road, that Phil sprang from the cart, and picked her up +in his strong arms. + +"There," said he, lifting her into the cart. "'Weep no more, my lady, +weep no more to-day!' Fortune has at last changed in your favour. You +are snatched from the bloody scalper of the plains, and shall be driven +home in style by your brave rescuer, if you'll only tell me which way to +go." + +The tear-stained little face was one broad smile as Mary leaned back in +the seat. She pointed up the road to a clump of umbrella-trees. "That's +where we turn," she said. "When you come to the trees you'll see there's +a little house behind them. It's the White Bachelor's. We call him that +because his horse and dog and cows and cats and chickens are all white. +That's how I first remembered where to turn on my way home, by the place +where there's so awful many white chickens. I was hoping to get to his +place before I died of running, when you came along. You saved my life, +didn't you? I never had my life saved before. Wasn't it strange the way +you happened by at exactly the right moment? It's just as if we were in +a book. I thought you were away off in California at school. How _did_ +it happen anyway?" she asked, peering up at him under his broad-brimmed +hat. + +A dull red flushed his face an instant, then he answered, lightly, "Oh, +I thought I'd take a vacation. I got tired of school, and I've started +out to see the world. I remembered what your brother said about the +quail-shooting out here, and the ducks, so I thought I'd try it a few +weeks, and then go on somewhere else. I've always wanted a taste of +ranch life and camping." + +"I'm tired of school, too," said Mary, "specially after all the terrible +unpleasant things that have happened to-day. But my family won't let me +stop, not if I begged all night and all day. How did you get yours to?" + +"Didn't ask 'em," said Phil, grimly. "Just chucked it, and came away." + +"But didn't your father say anything at all? Didn't he care?" + +The red came up again in the boy's face. "He doesn't know anything about +it--yet; he's in Europe, you know." + +They had reached the White Bachelor's now, and turning, took the road +that ran like a narrow ribbon between the irrigated country and the +desert. On one side were the wastes of sand between the red buttes and +old Camelback Mountain, on the other were the green ranches with their +rows of figs and willows and palms, bordering all the waterways. + +"Now we're just half a mile from Lee's ranch," said Mary. "We'll be +there in no time." + +"Do you suppose they'll have room for me?" inquired Phil. "That's what +I've come out for, to engage board." + +"Oh, I'm sure they will, anyhow, after to-morrow, for we're going to +move then, and that'll leave three empty tents. We've rented a place +half a mile farther up the road, and Jack and Joyce are having more fun +fixing it up. That's one reason I want to stop school. I'm missing all +the good times." + +"Hello! This seems to be quite a good-sized camp!" exclaimed Phil, as +they came in sight of an adobe house, around which clustered a group of +twenty or more tents, like a brood of white chickens around a motherly +old brown hen. "There comes Mrs. Lee now," cried Mary, as a tall, +black-haired woman came out of the house, and started across to one of +the tents with a tray in her hands. Her pink dress fluttered behind her +as she moved forward, with a firm, light tread, suggestive of buoyant +spirits and unbounded cheerfulness. + +"She's doing something for somebody all the time," remarked Mary. "If +you were sick she'd nurse you as if she was your mother, but as long as +you're not sick, maybe she won't let you come. Oh, I never thought about +that. This is a camp for invalids, you know, and she is so interested in +helping sick people get well, that maybe she won't take any interest in +you. Have you got a letter from anybody? Oh, I do hope you have!" + +"A letter," repeated Phil. "What kind?" + +"A letter to say that you're all right, you know, from somebody that +knows you. I heard her tell Doctor Adams last week that she wouldn't +take anybody else unless she had a letter of--of something or other, I +can't remember, because one man went off without paying his board. _We_ +had a letter from her brother." + +"No, I haven't any letter of recommendation or introduction, if that's +what you mean," said Phil, "but maybe I can fix it up all right with +her. Can't you say a good word for me?" + +"Of course," answered Mary, taking his question in all seriousness. "And +I'll run and get mamma, too. She'll make it all right." + +Springing out, Phil lifted her over the wheel, and then stood flicking +the dry Bermuda grass with his whip, as he waited for Mary to announce +his coming. He could hear her shrill little voice in the tent, whither +she had followed Mrs. Lee to tell her of his arrival. + +"It's the Mr. Phil Tremont we met on the train," he heard her say. +"Don't you know, the one I told you about running away with his little +sister and the monkey and the music-box one time. He isn't sick, but he +wants to stay here awhile, and I told him you'd be good to him, anyhow." + +Then she hurried away to her mother's tent, and Mrs. Lee came out +laughing. There was something so genial and friendly in the humourous +twinkle of her eyes, something so frank and breezy in her hospitable +Western welcome, that Phil met her with the same outspoken frankness. + +"I heard what Mary said," he began, "and I do hope you'll take me in, +for I've run away again, Mrs. Lee." Then his handsome face sobered, and +he said, in his straightforward, boyish way that Mrs. Lee found very +attractive, "I got into a scrape at the military school. It wasn't +anything wicked, but four of us were fired. The other fellows' fathers +got them taken back, but mine is in Europe, and it's so unsatisfactory +making explanations at that long range, and I thought they hadn't been +altogether fair in the matter, so I--well, I just skipped out. Mary said +I'd have to have references. I can't give you any now, but I can pay in +advance for a month's board, if you'll take me that way." + +He pulled out such a large roll of bills as he spoke, that Mrs. Lee +looked at him keenly. All sorts of people had drifted to her ranch, but +never before a schoolboy of seventeen with so much money in his pocket. +He caught the glance, and something in the motherly concern that seemed +to cross her face made him say, hastily, "Father left an emergency fund +for my sister and me when he went away, besides our monthly allowance, +and I drew on mine before I came out here." + +While they were discussing prices, Mrs. Ware came out with a cordial +greeting. Mary's excited tale of her rescue had almost led her to +believe that Phil had snatched her little daughter from an Indian's +tomahawk. She was heartily glad to see him, for the few hours' +acquaintance on the train had given her a strong interest in the +motherless boy and girl, and she had thought of them many times since +then. Phil felt that in coming back to the Wares he was coming back to +old friends. After it was settled that he might send his trunk out next +day, when a tent would be vacant, he sat for a long time talking to Mrs. +Ware and Mary, in the rustic arbour covered with bamboo and palm leaves. + +Chris was calling the cows to the milking when he finally rose to go, +and only rapid driving would take him back to Phoenix before nightfall. +As the red wheels disappeared down the road, Mary exclaimed, "This has +certainly been the most exciting day of my life! It has been so full of +unexpected things. Isn't it grand to think that Mr. Phil is coming to +the ranch? Fortune certainly changed in my favour when he happened along +just in time to save my life. Oh, dear, there come Joyce and Jack! +They've just missed him!" + + * * * * * + +Saturday afternoon found the new home all ready for its occupants. Even +the trunks had been brought up from the ranch and stowed away in the +tents. Although it was only two o'clock, the table was already set for +tea in one corner of the clean, fresh kitchen, behind a tall screen. + +Joyce, with her blue calico sleeves tucked up above her white elbows, +whistled softly as she tied on a clean apron before beginning her +baking. She had not been as happy in months. The hard week's work had +turned the bare adobe house into a comfortable little home, and she +could hardly wait for her mother to see it. Mrs. Lee was to bring her +and Norman over in the surrey. Any moment they might come driving up the +road. + +Jack had offered to stay if his services were needed further, but she +had sent him away to take his well-earned holiday. As he tramped off +with his gun over his shoulder, her voice followed him pleasantly: "Good +luck to you, Jack. You deserve it, for you've stuck by me like a man +this week." + +Since dinner Mary and Holland had swept the yard, brought wood for the +camp-fire, filled the boiler and the pitchers in the tents, and then +gone off, as Joyce supposed, to rest under the cottonwood-trees. +Presently she heard Mary tiptoeing into the sitting-room, and peeped in +to find her standing in the middle of the floor, with her hands clasped +behind her. + +"Isn't it sweet and homey!" Mary exclaimed. "I'm so glad to see the old +furniture again I could just hug it! I came in to get the book about +Hiawatha, sister. Holland keeps teasing me 'cause I said I wished I was +named Minnehaha, and says I am Mary-ha-ha. And I want to find a name +for him, a real ugly one!" + +"Call him Pau-Puk-Keewis,--mischief-maker," suggested Joyce. "There's +the book on the second shelf of the bookcase." She stepped into the room +to slip the soft silk curtain farther down the brass rod. + +"I'm prouder of this bookcase than almost anything else we have," she +said. "Nobody would guess that it was made of the packing-boxes that the +goods came in, and that this lovely Persian silk curtain was once the +lining of one of Cousin Kate's party dresses." + +"I'm glad that everything looks so nice," said Mary, "for Mr. Phil said +he was coming up to see us this evening. I'm going to put on a clean +dress and my best hair-ribbons before then." + +"Very well," assented Joyce, going back to the kitchen. "I'll change my +dress, too," she thought, as she went on with her work. "And I'll light +both lamps. The Indian rugs and blankets make the room look so bright +and cosy by lamplight." + +It had been so long since she had seen any one but the family and the +invalids at the ranch, that the thought of talking to the jolly young +cadet added another pleasure to her happy day. + +"Oh, Joyce," called Holland, from behind the tents, "may we have the +paint that is left in the cans? There's only a little in each one." + +"I don't care," she called back. That had been an hour ago, and now, as +she broke the eggs for a cake into a big platter, and began beating them +with a fork, she wondered what they were doing that kept them so quiet. +As the fork clacked noisily back and forth in the dish and the white +foam rose high and stiff, her whistling grew louder. It seemed to fill +all the sunny afternoon silence with its trills, for Joyce's whistle was +as clear and strong as any boy's or any bird's. But suddenly, as it +reached its highest notes, it stopped short. Joyce looked up as a shadow +fell across the floor, to see Jack coming in the back door with Phil +Tremont. + +She had not heard the sound of their coming, for the noise of her +egg-beating and her whistling. Joyce blushed to the roots of her hair, +at being taken thus unawares, whistling like a boy over her cake-baking. +For an instant she wanted to shake Jack for bringing this stranger to +the kitchen door. + +"We just stopped by for a drink," Jack explained. "Tremont was coming +out of the ranch with his gun when I passed with mine, so we've been +hunting together. Come in, Phil, I'll get a cup." + +There was such a mischievous twinkle in Phil's eyes as he greeted her, +that Joyce blushed again. This was a very different meeting from the one +she had anticipated. Instead of him finding her, appearing to her best +advantage in a pretty white dress, sitting in the lamplight with a book +in her hands, perhaps, he had caught her in her old blue calico, her +sleeves rolled up, and a streak of flour across her bare arm. She rubbed +it hastily across her apron, and gathered up the egg-shells in +embarrassed silence. + +"Did you tell those kids that they might paint up the premises the way +they are doing?" demanded Jack. + +"What way?" asked Joyce, in surprise. + +"Haven't you seen what they've done to the front of the house? They +haven't waited for your name contest, but have fixed up things to suit +themselves. You just ought to come out and look!" + +Phil followed as they hurried around to the front of the house, then +stood smiling at the look of blank amazement which slowly spread over +Joyce's face. Down one of the rough cottonwood posts, which supported +the palm and bamboo thatch of their Robinson Crusoe porch, was painted +in big, straggling, bloody letters: "W-A-R-E-S W-I-G-W-A-M." Joyce +groaned. She had made such an attempt to convert the rude shade into an +attractive spot, spreading a Navajo blanket over her mother's +camp-chair, and putting cushions on the rustic bench to make a restful +place, where one could read or watch the shadows grow long across the +desert. She had even brought out a little wicker tea-table this +afternoon, with a vase of flowers on it, and leaned her mother's old +guitar against it to give a final civilizing touch to the picture. But +the effect was sadly marred by the freshly painted name, glaring at her +from the post. + +"Oh, the little savages!" she exclaimed. "How could they do it? Ware's +Wigwam, indeed!" + +Then her gaze followed Jack's finger pointing to the tents pitched under +the cottonwood-trees. The one which she was to share with Mary and her +mother stood white and clean, the screen-door open, showing the white +beds within, the rug on the floor, the flowers on the table; but the +large, circular one, which the boys were to occupy, was a sight to make +any one pause, open-mouthed. + +Perched beside it on a scaffolding of boxes and barrels stood Holland, +with a paint-can in one hand and a brush in the other, putting the +finishing touches to some startling decorations. Mary, on the other +side, was brandishing another brush, and both were so intent on their +work that neither looked up. Joyce gave a gasp. Never had she seen such +amazing hieroglyphics as those which chased each other in zigzag green +lines around the fly of the tent. They bore a general resemblance to +those seen on Indian baskets and blankets and pottery, but nothing so +grotesque had ever flaunted across her sight before. + +"Now, get the book," called Holland to Mary, "and see if we've left +anything out." Only Mary's back was visible to the amused spectators. +She took up the copy of "Hiawatha" from the barrel where it lay, careful +to keep the hem of her apron between it and her paint-bedaubed thumbs. + +"I think we've painted every single figure he wrote about," said Mary. +"Now, I'll read, and you walk around and see if we've left anything out: + + "Very spacious was the wigwam + With the gods of the Dacotahs + Drawn and painted on the curtains." + +"No, skip that," ordered Holland. "It's farther down." Mary's +paint-smeared fingers travelled slowly down the page, then she began +again: + + "Sun and moon and stars he painted, + Man and beast and fish and reptile. + + "Figures of the Bear and Reindeer, + Of the Turtle, Crane, and Beaver. + + "Owl and Eagle, Crane and Hen-hawk, + And the Cormorant, bird of magic. + + "Figures mystical and awful, + Figures strange and brightly coloured." + +"They're all here," announced Holland, "specially the figures mystical +and awful. I'll have to label mine, or somebody will take my turtle for +a grizzly." + +"Oh, the little savages!" exclaimed Joyce again. "How could they make +such a spectacle of the place! We'll be the laughing-stock of the whole +country." + +"I don't suppose that'll ever come off the tent, but we can paint the +name off the post," said Jack. + +"Oh, that's a fine name," said Phil, laughing, "leave it on. It's so +much more original than most people have." + +Before Joyce could answer, the rattle of wheels announced the coming of +the surrey, and Mrs. Lee drove into the yard with Mrs. Ware and Norman, +and her own little daughter, Hazel. Then Joyce's anger, which had burned +to give Holland and Mary a good shaking, vanished completely at sight +of her mother's amusement. Mrs. Ware had not laughed so heartily in +months as she did at the ridiculous figures grinning from the tent. It +seemed so good to see her like her old cheerful self again that, when +she laughingly declared that the name straggling down the post exactly +suited the place, and was far more appropriate than Bide-a-wee or Alamo, +Joyce's frown entirely disappeared. Mrs. Lee caught up the old guitar, +and began a rattling parody of "John Brown had a little Indian," +changing the words to a ridiculous rhyme about "_The_ Wares had a little +Wigwam." + +Mrs. Ware sat down to try the new rustic seat, and then jumped up like a +girl again to look at the view of the mountains from the camp-chair, and +then led the way, laughing and talking, to investigate the new home. She +was as pleased as a child, and her pleasure made a festive occasion of +the home-coming, which Joyce had feared at first would be a sorry one. + +Phil shouldered his gun ready to start off again, feeling that he ought +not to intrude, but Jack had worked too hard to miss the reward of +hearing his mother's pleased exclamations and seeing her face light up +over every little surprise they had prepared for her comfort. "Come and +see, too," he urged so cordially that Phil fell into line, poking into +all the corners, inspecting all the little shelves and cupboards, and +admiring all the little makeshifts as heartily as Mrs. Lee or Mrs. Ware. + +They went through the tents first, then the kitchen, and last into the +living-room, of which Joyce was justly proud. There was only the old +furniture they had had in Plainsville, with the books and pictures, but +it was restful and homelike and really artistic, Phil acknowledged to +himself, looking around in surprise. + +"Here's the Little Colonel's corner," said Mary, leading him to a group +of large photographs framed in passe-partout. "You know mamma used to +live in Kentucky, and once Joyce went back there to a house-party. +Here's the place, Locust. That's where the Little Colonel lives. Her +right name is Lloyd Sherman. And there she is on her pony, Tar Baby, and +there's her grandfather at the gate." + +Phil stooped for a closer view of the photograph, and then straightened +up, with a look of dawning recognition in his face. + +"Why, I've seen her," he said, slowly. "I've been past that place. Once, +several years ago, I was going from Cincinnati to Louisville with +father, and something happened that we stopped on a switch in front of +a place that looked just like that. And the brakeman said it was called +Locust. I was out on the rear platform. I believe we were waiting for an +express train to pass us, or something of the sort. At any rate, I saw +that same old gentleman,--he had only one arm and was all dressed in +white. Everybody was saying what a picture he made. The locusts were in +bloom, you know. And while he stood there, the prettiest little girl +came riding up on a black pony, with a magnificent St. Bernard dog +following. She was all in white, too, with a spray of locust blossoms +stuck in the cockade of the little black velvet Napoleon cap she wore, +exactly as it is in that picture; and she held up a letter and called +out: 'White pigeon wing fo' you, grandfathah deah.' I never forgot how +sweet it sounded." + +"Oh, that was Lloyd! That was Lloyd!" called Mary and Joyce in the same +breath, and Joyce added: "She always used to call out that when she had +a letter for the old Colonel, and it must have been Hero that you saw, +the Red Cross war-dog that was given to her in Switzerland. How strange +it seems that you should come across her picture away out here in the +desert!" + +Mary's eyes grew rounder and rounder as she listened. She delighted in +romantic situations, and this seemed to her one of the most romantic she +had ever known in real life, quite as interesting as anything she had +ever read about. + +"Doesn't it seem queer to think that he's seen Lloyd and Locust?" she +exclaimed. "It makes him seem almost like home folks, doesn't it, +mamma?" + +Mrs. Ware smiled. "It certainly does, dear, and we must try to make him +feel at home with us in our wild wigwam." She had seen the wistful +expression of his eyes a few moments before when, catching Joyce and +Jack by the arms, she had cried, proudly: "Nobody in the world has such +children as mine, Mrs. Lee! Don't you think I have cause to be proud of +my five little Indians, who fixed up this house so beautifully all by +themselves?" + +"Come back and take supper with us, won't you?" she asked, as he and +Jack started on their interrupted hunt. "We'll make a sort of +house-warming of our first meal together in the new wigwam, and I'll be +glad to count you among my little Indians." + +"Thank you, Mrs. Ware," he said, in his gentlemanly way and with the +frank smile which she found so winning; "you don't know how much that +means to a fellow who has been away from a real home as long as I have. +I'll be the gladdest 'little Indian' in the bunch to be counted in that +way." + +"Then I'll get back to my cake-making," said Joyce, "if we're to have +company for supper. I won't promise that it'll be a success, though, for +while it bakes I'm going to write to Lloyd. I've thought for days that I +ought to write, for I've owed her a letter ever since Christmas. She +doesn't even know that we've left Plainsville. And I'm going to tell her +about your having seen her, and recognized her picture away out here on +the desert. I wish she'd come out and make us a visit." + +"Here," said Phil, playfully, taking a sprig of orange blossoms from his +buttonhole, and putting it in the vase on the wicker table. "When you +get your letter written, put that in, as a sample of what grows out +here. I picked it as we passed Clayson's ranch. If it reaches her on a +cold, snowy day, it will make her want to come out to this land of +sunshine. You needn't tell her I sent it." + +"I'll dare you to tell," said Jack, as they started off. + +Joyce's only answer was a laugh, as she went back to her egg-beating. +Almost by the time the boys were out of sight, she had whisked the cake +dough into a pan, and the pan into the oven, and, while Mrs. Ware and +Mrs. Lee talked in the other room, she spread her paper out on the +kitchen table, and began her letter to the Little Colonel. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +WHAT A LETTER BROUGHT ABOUT + + +LLOYDSBORO VALLEY would have seemed a strange place to Joyce, could she +have followed her letter back to Kentucky. She had known it only in +midsummer, when the great trees at Locust arched their leafy branches +above the avenue, to make a giant arbour of green. Now these same trees +stood bleak and bare in the February twilight, almost knee-deep in +drifts of snow. Instead of a green lacework of vines, icicles hung +between the tall white pillars of the porch, gleaming like silver where +the light from the front windows streamed out upon them, and lay in +far-reaching paths across the snow. + +In the long drawing-room, softly lighted by many candles and the glow of +a great wood fire, the Little Colonel sat on the arm of her father's +chair. He had just driven up from the station, and she held his cold +ears in her warm little hands, giving them a pull now and then to +emphasize what she was saying. + +"The first sleigh-ride of the season, Papa Jack. Think of that! We've +had enough snow this wintah for any amount of coasting and sleighing if +it had only lasted. That's the trouble with Kentucky snow; it melts too +fast to be any fun. But to-night everything is just right, moon and all, +and the sleighs are to call for us at half-past seven, and we're going +for a glorious, gorgeous, grandiferous old sleigh-ride. At nine o'clock +we'll stop at The Beeches for refreshments." + +"Yes," chimed in Betty from the hearth-rug, where she sat leaning +against her godmother's knee. "Mrs. Walton says we shall have music +wherever we go, like little Jenny that 'rode a cock-horse to Banbury +Cross.' She has a whole pile of horns and bells ready for us. It's +lovely of her to entertain both the clubs. She's asked the _Mu Chi +Sigma_ from the Seminary as well as our Order of Hildegarde." + +"Oh, that reminds me," exclaimed Mr. Sherman, "although I don't know why +it should--I brought a letter up from the post-office for you, Lloyd." +Feeling in several pockets, he at last found the big square envelope he +was searching for. + +"What a big fat one it is," said Lloyd, glancing at the postmark. +"Phoenix, Arizona! I don't know anybody out there." + +"Arizona is where our mines are located," said Mr. Sherman, watching her +as she tore open the envelope. + +"Oh, it's from Joyce Ware!" she cried. "See all the funny little +illustrations on the edge of the papah! And heah is a note inside for +you, mothah, from Mrs. Ware, and oh, what's this? How sweet!" A cluster +of orange blossoms fell out into her lap, brown and bruised from the +long journey, but so fragrant, that Betty, across the room, raised her +head with a long indrawn breath of pleasure. + +"Listen! I'll read it aloud:" + + "'WARE'S WIGWAM, ARIZONA. + +"'DEAREST LLOYD:--Mamma's note to your mother will explain how we +happened to stray away out here, next door to nowhere, and why we are +camping on the edge of the desert instead of enjoying the conveniences +of civilization in Kansas. + +"'The sketch at the top of the page will give you an idea of the outside +of our little adobe house and the tents, so without stopping for +description I'll begin right here in the kitchen, where I am sitting, +waiting for a cake to bake. It's the cleanest, cosiest kitchen you ever +saw, for Jack and I have been cleaning and scrubbing for days and days. +It has all sorts of little shelves and cupboards and cuddy holes that we +made ourselves, and the new tins shine like silver. A tall screen in the +middle of the room shuts off one end for a dining-room, and the table is +set for supper. To-night we are to have our first meal in the wigwam. +Holland and Mary named it that, and painted the name on the porch post +in big bloody letters a little while ago. + +"'Through the open door I can look into the other room, which is +library, studio, parlour, and living-room all in one. Everything is so +spick and span that nobody would ever guess what a dreadful time we had +putting on the paper and painting all the woodwork. I spilled a whole +panful of cold, sticky paste on Jack's head one day. We had made a +scaffolding of boxes and barrels. One end slipped and let me down. You +never saw such a sight as he was. I had to scrape his hair and face with +a spoon. Then so much of the paper wrinkled and would stick on crooked, +but now that the pictures are hung and the furniture in place, none of +the mistakes show. + +"'Jack has gone hunting with Phil Tremont, a boy staying at Lee's ranch. +I am learning to shoot, too. I practised all one afternoon, and the gun +kicked so bad that my shoulder is still black and blue. Phil said the +loads were too heavy, and he is going to loan me his little rifle to +practise with. He is such a nice boy, and, oh, Lloyd! it's the strangest +thing!--he has seen _you_. I have those pictures of Locust hanging over +my easel, and, when he saw the photograph of you on Tar Baby, he +recognized it right away. He was on the train and saw you ride in at the +gate with a letter for your grandfather, and Hero following you. + + * * * * * + +"'I didn't get any farther than this in my letter (because I spent so +much time making the illustrations) before Phil and Jack came back with +some quail they had shot. They were the proudest boys you ever saw, and +nothing would do but they must have those quail cooked for supper. They +couldn't wait till next day. Mamma had invited Phil to take supper with +us, and help make a sort of house-warming of our first meal in the new +home. + +"'We had the jolliest kind of a time, and afterward he helped wipe the +dishes. I told him that I was writing to you, and he took this little +piece of orange blossom out of his buttonhole, and asked me if I didn't +want to send it to you as a sample of what we are enjoying in this land +of perpetual sunshine. + +"'It isn't a sample of everything, however. The place has lots of +drawbacks. Oh, Lloyd, you can't imagine how lonesome I get sometimes. I +have been here a month, and haven't met a single girl my age. If there +was just one to be chums with I wouldn't mind the rest so much,--the +leaving school and all that. I don't mind the work, even the washing and +ironing and scrubbing,--it's just the lonesomeness, and the missing the +good times we used to have at the high school. + +"'Save up your pennies, or else get a railroad pass, you and Betty, for +some of these days I'm going to give a wigwam-party. It will be a far +different affair from your house-party (could there ever be another such +heavenly time?), but there are lots of interesting things to see out +here: an ostrich farm, an Indian school and reservation, and queer old +ruins to visit. There are scissors-birds and Gila monsters--I can't +begin to name the things that would keep you staring. Mrs. Lee has a +Japanese chef, and a Mexican to do her irrigating, and a Chinaman to +bring her vegetables, and she always buys her wood of the Indians, so it +seems very foreign and queer at first. There is no lack of variety, so I +ought to be satisfied, and I am usually, except when I think of little +old Plainsville, and the boys and girls going up and down the dear old +streets to high school, and meeting in the library, and sitting on the +steps singing in the moonlight, and all the jolly, sociable village life +and the friends I have left behind for ever. Then it seems to me that I +can hardly stand it here. I wish you and Betty were with me this very +minute. _Please_ write soon. With love to you both and everybody else in +the family and the dear old valley, + + "'Your homesick + "'JOYCE.'" + +Mrs. Ware's letter was cheerful and uncomplaining, but there were tears +in Mrs. Sherman's eyes when she finished reading it aloud. + +"Poor Emily," she said. "She was always such a brave little body. I +don't see how she can write such a hopeful letter under the +circumstances,--an invalid sent out into the wilderness to die, maybe, +with all those children. She has so much ambition to make something of +them, and no way to do it. Jack, if you go out to the mines this month, +as you talked of doing, I want you to arrange your trip so that you can +stop and see her." + +Lloyd looked up in surprise. "When are you going, Papa Jack? Isn't it +queah how things happen!" + +"The latter part of this month, probably. Mr. Robeson has invited me to +go out with a party in his private car. He is interested in the same +mines." + +"I wonder--" began Mrs. Sherman, then stopped as Mom Beck came to +announce dinner. "I'll talk to you about it after awhile, Jack." + +Somehow both Betty and Lloyd felt that it was not the summons to dinner +which interrupted her, but that she had started to speak of something +which she did not care to discuss in their presence. + +"Arizona has always seemed such a dreadful place to me," said Lloyd, +hanging on her father's arm, as they went out to the dining-room. "I +remembah when you came back from the mines. It was yeahs ago, befo' I +could talk plainly. Mothah and Fritz and I went to the station to meet +you. Fritz had roses stuck in his collah, and kept barking all the time +as if he knew something was going to happen. You fainted when we got to +the house, and were so ill that you neahly died. I heard you talk about +a fiah at the mines, and evah since I've thought of Arizona as looking +like the Sodom and Gomorrah in my old pictuah book--smoke and fiah +sweeping across a great plain, and people running to get away from it." + +"To me it's just a yellow square on a map," said Betty. "Of course, I've +read about the wonderful petrified forests of agate, and the great cañon +of the Colorado, but it's always seemed the last place in the world I'd +ever want to visit. It's terrible for Joyce to give up everything and go +out there to live." + +"The Waltons were out there several years," said Mrs. Sherman. "They +were at Fort Huachuca, and learned to love it dearly. Ask them about it +to-night. They will tell you that Joyce is a very fortunate girl to have +the opportunity of living in such a lovely and interesting country, and +does not need any one's pity." + +Little else was discussed all during dinner. Afterward they sat around +the fire in the drawing-room, still talking of the Wares and the strange +country to which they had moved, until a tooting of horns and a jingling +of bells announced the coming of the sleighing party. Both the girls +were into their wraps before the first sleigh reached the gate. They +stood waiting by the hall window, looking out on the stretches of +moon-lighted snow. What a cold, white, glistening world it was! One +could hardly imagine that it had ever been warm and green. + +Lloyd put her nose into the end of her muff for a whiff of the orange +blossoms. She was taking Joyce's letter to show to the girls. + +Betty, her eyes fixed on the stars, twinkling above the bare branches of +the locust-trees, caught the fragrance also, and it fired her romantic +little soul with a sudden thought. + +"Lloyd," she exclaimed, "what if that orange blossom was an omen! What +if Phil were the one written for you in the stars!" + +"Oh, Betty! The idea!" laughed Lloyd. "You're always imagining things +the way they are in books." + +"But this happened just that way," persisted Betty. "His passing Locust +on the train and seeing you when you were a little girl, and then +finding your picture away out on the desert several years after, and +sending you a token of his remembrance by a friend, and orange blossoms +at that! If ever I finish that story of Gladys and Eugene, I'm going to +put something like that in it." + +"Heah they come," interrupted Lloyd, as the sleighs dashed up to the +door. "Come on, Papa Jack and everybody. Give us a good send-off." + +She looked back after her father had helped them into the sleigh, to +wave good-bye to the group on the porch. How interested they all were in +her good times, she thought. Even her grandfather had come to the door, +despite his rheumatism, to wish them a pleasant ride. Life was so sweet +and full. How beautiful it was to be dashing down the snowy road in the +moonlight! Was she too happy? Everybody else had troubles. Would +something dreadful have to happen by and by, to make up for all the +unclouded happiness of the present? She was not cold, but a sudden +shiver passed over her. Then she took up the song with the others, a +parody one of the Seminary girls had made for the occasion: + + "Oh, the snow falls white on my old Kentucky home. + 'Tis winter, the Valley is gay. + The moon shines bright and our hearts are all atune, + To the joy-bells jingling on our sleigh." + +Down the avenue they went, past Tanglewood and Oaklea, through the +little village of Rollington, on and on through the night. Songs and +laughter, the jingling of bells and the sound of girlish voices floated +through all the valley. It was not every winter that gave them such +sport, and they enjoyed it all the more because it was rare. It was nine +o'clock when the horses swung around through the wide gate at The +Beeches, and stopped in front of the great porch, where hospitable +lights streamed out at every window across the snow. + +There was such a gabble over the steaming cups of hot chocolate and the +little plates of oyster patés that Lloyd could not have read the letter +if she had tried. For there were Allison and Kitty and Elise passing the +bonbons around again and again, with hospitable insistence, and saying +funny things and making everybody feel that "The Beeches" was the most +charming place in the Valley for an entertainment of that kind. +Everybody was in a gale of merriment. Miss Allison was helping to keep +them so, and some of the teachers were there from the college, and two +or three darkies, with banjoes and mandolins, out in the back hall, +added to the general festivities by a jingling succession of old +plantation melodies. + +However, Lloyd managed to tell Mrs. Walton about the letter, saying: "It +almost spoils my fun to-night to think of poah Joyce being away out in +that dreadful lonesome country." + +"Why, my dear child," cried Mrs. Walton, "some of the happiest years of +my life were spent in that dreadful country, as you call it. It is a +charming place. Just look around and see how I have filled my home with +souvenirs of it, because I loved it so." + +Lloyd's glance followed hers to the long-handled peace-pipe over the +fireplace, the tomahawks that, set in mortars captured during a battle +in Luzon, guarded the hearth instead of ordinary andirons, the baskets, +the rugs, and the Navajo portières, and the Indian spears and pottery +arranged on the walls of the stairway. + +"Even that string of loco berries over Geronimo's portrait has a +history," said Mrs. Walton. "Come down some day, and I'll tell you so +many interesting things about Arizona that you'll want to start straight +off to see it." + +Her duties as hostess called her away just then, but her enthusiasm +stayed with Lloyd all the rest of the evening, until she reached home +and found her father and mother before the fire, still talking about the +Wares and their wigwam. + +"Your mother wants me to take you with me when I go to Arizona," said +Mr. Sherman, drawing her to his knee. "Mr. Robeson had invited her to +go, but, as long as that is out of the question, she wants to arrange +for you to go in her place." + +"And leave school?" gasped Lloyd. + +"Yes, with Betty's help, you could easily make up lost lessons during +the summer vacation. You'd help her, wouldn't you, dear?" + +"Yes, indeed!" cried Betty. "I'd get them for her while she was gone, if +I could." + +"Oh, it's so sudden, it takes my breath away," said Lloyd, after a +moment's pause. "Pinch me, Betty! Shake me! And then say it all ovah +again, Papa Jack, to be suah that I'm awake!" + +"Do you think you could get your clothes ready in ten days?" he asked, +when he had playfully given her the shaking and pinching she had asked +for. + +"Oh, I don't need any new clothes," she cried. "But, Papa Jack, I'll +tell you what I do want, and that's a small rifle. _Please_ get me one. +I used to practise with Rob's air-gun till I could shoot as straight as +he could, and I got so that I could put a hole through a leaf at even +longer range than he could. Christmas, when Ranald Walton was home, we +all practised with his gun. It's lots of fun. Joyce is learning to +shoot, you know. _Please_ let me have one, Papa Jack. I'd rather have it +than a dozen new dresses." + +Mr. Sherman looked at her in astonishment. "And _this_ is my dainty +Princess Winsome," he said at last. "I thought you were going for a +nice, tame little visit. I'll be afraid now to take you. You'll want to +come back on a bucking broncho, and dash through the Valley, shooting +holes through the crown of people's hats, and lassoing carriage horses +when you can't find any wild ones to rope. No, I can't take you now. I'm +afraid of consequences." + +"No, honestly, Papa Jack," laughed Lloyd, "I'll be just as civilized as +anybody when I come back, if you'll only get me the rifle. I'll try to +be extra civilized, just to please you." + +"We'll see," was the only answer he would give, but Lloyd, who had never +known him to refuse her anything, knew what that meant, and danced off +to bed perfectly satisfied. She was too excited to sleep. To see Joyce +again, to share the wigwam life, and make the acquaintance of Jack and +Holland and Mary, who had been such interesting personages in Joyce's +tales of them, to have that long trip with Papa Jack in Mr. Robeson's +private car, and a month's delightful holiday, seemed too much +happiness for one small person. All sorts of exciting adventures might +lie ahead of her in that month. + +The stars, peeping through her curtains, twinkled in friendly fashion at +her, as if they were glad of her good fortune. Suddenly they made her +think of Betty's words: "What if Phil should be the one written for you +in the stars?" It _was_ strange, his having seen her so long ago, and +finding her picture in such an unexpected way. She wondered what he was +like, and if they would be good friends, and if she could ever think as +much of him as she did of her old playmates, Rob and Malcolm. Then she +fell asleep, wishing that it was morning, so that she could send a +letter to Joyce on the first mail-train, telling her that she was +coming,--that in less than two weeks she would be with her at Ware's +Wigwam. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +WASH-DAY AND WASHINGTON + + +IT was wash-day at Ware's Wigwam; the first that Joyce and Jack had +personally conducted, as it was the first Monday after moving from Lee's +ranch. + +[Illustration: "'WE ALLEE SAMEE LAK CHINAMEN,' HE SAID"] + +Out in the back yard a big tin wash-boiler sat propped up on stones, +above a glowing camp-fire. From time to time Jack stooped to poke +another stick of mesquite into the blaze, or give the clothes in the +boiler a stir with an old broom-handle. Then tucking up his +shirt-sleeves more firmly above his elbows, he went back to the tub by +the kitchen door, and, plunging his arms into the suds, began the +monotonous swash and rub-a-dub of clothes and knuckles on the +wash-board. + +"We allee samee lak Chinamen," he said to Joyce, who was bending over +another tub, rinsing and wringing. "Blimeby, when we do heap more +washee, a cue will glow on my head. You'll be no mo' Clistian lady. +You'll be lil'l heathen gel." + +"I believe you're right," laughed Joyce. "I certainly felt like a +heathen by the time I had finished rubbing the first basket full of +clothes through the suds. The skin was off two knuckles, and my back was +so tired I could scarcely straighten up again. But it won't be so bad +next week. Mamma says that we may draw enough out of bank to buy a +washing-machine and a wringer, and that will make the work lots easier." + +A long, shrill whistle out in the road made them both stop to listen. +"It's Phil," said Jack. "He said he would ride past this morning to show +us the new horse he is going to buy. My! It's a beauty bright!" he +exclaimed, peering around the corner of the kitchen, "Come out and look +at it." + +Hastily wiping the suds from his arms, and giving a hitch to the +suspenders of his old overalls, he disappeared around the house. Joyce +started after him, then drew back, remembering her old shoes and wet, +faded gingham, as she caught sight of Phil, sitting erect as a +cavalryman on the spirited black horse. From the wide brim of his soft, +gray hat to the spurs on his riding-boots, he was faultlessly dressed. A +new lariat hung on the horn of his saddle, the Mexican quirt he carried +had mountings of silver on the handle, and the holster that held his +rifle was of handsomely carved leather. While he talked to Jack, the +horse stepped and pranced and tossed its head, impatient to be off. + +"Come on out, Joyce, and look at it," called Phil. + +"I can't," she answered, peeping around the corner of the kitchen. "I'm +running a Chinese laundry back here. Jack says I'm no longer a 'Clistian +lady.'" + +"Do you want any help?" he called, but there was no answer. She had +disappeared. Phil was disappointed. It was for her admiration more than +Jack's that he had ridden by on the new horse. He was conscious that he +made a good appearance in the saddle, and he had expected her to show +some interest in his purchase. Usually she was so enthusiastic over +everything new. The work might have waited a few minutes, he thought. + +But it was not the urgency of the work that sent Joyce back to the tubs +in such a hurry. It was the rebellious feeling that swept over her at +the sight of his holiday appearance. She was tired and hot and +bedraggled, having splashed water all over herself, and the contrast +between them irritated her. + +"If I have to be a Polly-put-the-kettle-on all the days of my life, I'll +just _be_ one," she said, in a half-whisper, giving the towel she was +wringing a vicious twist. "I'm not going out there to have him feel +sorry for me. He's used to seeing girls who are always dainty and fresh, +like his sister Elsie, and I'm not going to let him see me looking like +a poor, bedraggled Cinderella. It isn't fair that some people should +have all the good things in life, and others nothing but the drudgery. + +"Jack doesn't seem to mind it. There he stands out in the road in his +old faded, paint-smeared overalls, and his sleeves rolled up, never +caring how awkward and lanky he looks. He's taking as eager an interest +in that horse's good points as if he were to have the pleasure of riding +it. But then Jack hasn't the artistic temperament. He likes this wild +country out here, and he never can understand what a daily sacrifice it +is for me to live in such a place. My whole life is just a sacrifice to +mamma and the children." + +By the time the basket was full of clothes, ready to be hung on the +line, Joyce had worked herself up to such a pitch of self-pity that she +felt like a martyr going to the stake. She carried the basket to the +sunny space behind the tents, where the line had been stretched. Here, +with her sunbonnet pulled over her eyes, she could see without being +seen. Phil was just riding away whistling. She watched him out of sight. +The desert seemed lonelier than ever when the sound of hoof-beats and +the cheery tune had passed. Her gaze wandered back to old Camelback +Mountain. "We'll never get away, you and I," she whispered. "All the +bright, pleasant things in life will ride by and leave us. Only the work +and the waiting and the loneliness will stay." + +When she went back to the house with her empty basket, Jack was rubbing +away with a vigour that was putting holes in one of Holland's shirts. + +"Why didn't you come out and see Phil's new horse?" he cried, +enthusiastically. "He let me try him, and he goes like a bird. And say, +Joyce, he knows where I could get the best kind of an Indian pony for +almost nothing, at a camp near Scottsdale. It is good size, and it's +broke either to the saddle or buggy, and the people will sell it for +only ten dollars. Just think of that. It's almost giving it away. The +man who had it died, and his wife couldn't take it back East with her, +and she told them to sell it for anything they could get. Don't you +think we could manage in some way to get it, Joyce?" + +"Why, Jack Ware! What can you be thinking of!" she cried. "For us to +spend ten dollars on a horse that we don't need would be just as great +an extravagance as for some people to spend ten hundred. Don't you know +that we can only buy things that we absolutely have to eat or to wear? +You've surely heard it dinned into your ears long enough to get some +such idea into your head." + +"We don't absolutely have to have a washing-machine and wringer," he +declared, nettled by Joyce's unusual tone. "A horse would be lots more +use. We could have it to bring wood up with from the desert when we've +burned all that's close by. And we can't go on all year borrowing a +horse from Mrs. Lee every time we want to go to town, or have to have a +new supply of groceries." + +"But you know well enough that mamma's teaching Hazel, after awhile when +she gets well enough, will more than make up for the borrowing we will +do," answered Joyce. "Besides it would only be the beginning of a lot of +expense. There'd be feed and a saddle to start with." + +"No, there wouldn't! There's all that alfalfa pasture going to waste +behind the house, and Mrs. Lee has a saddle hanging up in her attic +that somebody left on a board bill. She said I might use it as often as +I pleased." + +"Well, we can't afford to spend ten dollars on any such foolishness," +said Joyce, shortly. "So that is the end of it." + +"No, it isn't the end of it," was the spirited answer. "I've set my +heart on having that pony, and I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll take the +place of the washing-machine and wringer. You give me the five dollars +they would cost, and I'll do every bit of the rubbing and wringing every +Monday morning. I'll borrow the other five dollars, and give a mortgage +on the pony. I'll find some way to earn enough to pay it off before the +summer is over." + +Joyce shook her head. "No, a mortgage makes a slave of anybody foolish +enough to chain himself up with one, Grandpa Ware always used to say. +I'm running the finances now, and I won't give my consent. I think it is +best to get the machine, and I don't intend to change my mind. You may +get a position next fall, and then I'd be left to do the work without +any machine to help. Besides, you sha'n't run in debt to get something +that nobody really needs." + +"I do need it," insisted Jack, "and I don't see why, when you are only a +year older than I am, that you should have the say-so about the way all +the money is to be spent." + +"Because mamma wishes me to. Don't you see that the very fact of your +wanting to be extravagant in this case, and go in debt and load yourself +down with a mortgage shows that I have better judgment than you?" + +"Oh, you've got a great head for business!" sneered Jack. "Don't you see +that it wouldn't be the same as buying something to eat up or wear out? +It's an investment. You put the money into the pony instead of the bank, +and any time you want to get it out, you just sell the beast. I might be +able to get twice as much for him next fall when the tourists begin to +come into Phoenix for the winter." + +"Yes, you might, but it would be more like Ware luck for it to cut +itself all to pieces on the barb-wire fences before then, or break its +legs stumbling into a gopher hole, or founder itself by getting into a +neighbour's oat-bin. Something would be sure to happen. The money is +safe where it is, and I believe in letting well enough alone." + +"Banks bust sometimes, too," said Jack, moodily, "and _I_ believe that +'nothing venture, nothing have.'" + +It was the first quarrel they had had in months. Each, feeling firmly +convinced of being in the right, grew indignant with the other, and they +passed from teasing banter to angry words, and then to an angrier +silence. "It won't be any harder for him to give up what he had set his +heart on than it is for me," thought Joyce, as she hung up the last +garment. "I have to do without things I want all the time. And I'm not +going to let him think that I'll give in if he teases long enough. I +wouldn't have any authority at all over the children if I wasn't firm +with them." + +As Jack emptied the last tubful of water, and stood the wash-board up to +dry, he broke the angry silence that had lasted fully ten minutes. + +"Holland has a dollar in his savings-bank, and Mary has seventy-five +cents. We could all chip in with what we have, and then go without +butter or something for awhile till we'd saved enough." + +Joyce only gave an impatient shrug as she replied: "Much comfort we'd +get out of a horse that everybody had a share in. If Holland felt that +he'd sunk a dollar and several pounds of butter in that pony, he'd feel +privileged to ride it any hour of the day or night, no matter who +wanted it, and he'd do it, too. You might as well give it up, Jack. It +is selfish of you to insist on spending so much on just your own +pleasure." + +"Selfish!" blazed Jack. "It's _you_ that's selfish, wanting to be so +bossy and have everything just your way. I haven't asked _you_ to do +without anything, have I, or to put in any of _your_ money? And if I do +the work of the washing-machine and wringer, I don't see why I shouldn't +have what they would cost, to do what I please with. _You're_ the +selfish one!" + +He banged the tub up against the tree and walked off toward his tent, +buttoning his shirt-sleeves, and muttering to himself as he went. + +"Now, he'll go and tell mamma, I suppose, and worry her," thought Joyce, +as she went into the kitchen. "But I'm too tired to care. If I hadn't +been so tired, I probably wouldn't have snapped him off so short, but it +just goes to prove that we can't do without a machine. The washing is +too hard for me without one. I can't afford to get so worn out every +week. It is all right for him to offer to take the place of one. He +might keep it up for weeks, and even months, but next fall, if he should +get a position in Phoenix, the money would be spent and I'd be left +with the bag to hold. I don't think that, under the circumstances, he +has any right to call me selfish. I'm _not_!" + +The word stuck in her memory, and hurt, as she dragged herself wearily +into the sitting-room, and lay down on the couch. After she had pulled +the afghan over her shoulders and buried her face in one of the pillows, +a few hot tears trickled down through her closed eyelids, and made them +smart. The kitchen clock struck eleven. + +"Oh, dear!" she said to herself, "I must get up in a few minutes and see +about dinner." But the next thing she knew, Norman was ringing the +dinner-bell in her ears, shouting that it was one o'clock, and that Jack +had dinner ready, and to come before it got cold. + +"Oh, Jack, why didn't you call me?" she cried. "I didn't mean to fall +asleep. I only stretched out to rest for a few minutes." + +He made no answer, busying himself in carrying a hot dish of poached +eggs and toast to the table, and bringing his mother's tea. He was +carrying on a lively conversation with her. + +"Still mad, I suppose," thought Joyce, when he ignored her repeated +question. "But evidently he hasn't said anything to mamma about it." + +The meal seemed an unusually cheerful one, for although Jack and Joyce +had nothing to say to each other, they kept up such a chatter with their +mother, that she ate her dinner serenely unconscious of their coolness +toward each other. Afterward she insisted upon washing the dishes, so +that Joyce could take a well-earned rest, and Jack go down to the ranch +to see Mr. Ellestad's new microscope, which had just come. Joyce would +not listen to her appeal that she was perfectly able to do that much +work, and that she needed the exercise, but finally consented to her +helping wipe the dishes, while she cleared the table and washed them. +But Jack, after a little urging, started down the road toward the ranch, +to spend a long, interesting afternoon there. As he went whistling out +of sight Mrs. Ware looked after him fondly. + +"I know he's the best boy in the world," she said. "I wish I could +afford to give him some of the pleasures that other boys have." + +"Seems to me he has about as much as the rest of us," said Joyce, +rattling the cups and saucers in the dish-pan. But a picture rose in her +mind as she spoke, that made her wish that she had not been so cross and +so positive. It was Phil Tremont, on his horse, as he had looked that +morning, handsome, fun-loving, and free to do as he pleased, and then +in sharp contrast, Jack, standing in the road beside him, in his old +outgrown, paint-smeared overalls, his fingers red and wrinkled from the +suds, called from his work to see a pleasure in which he could not +share. Now that she was rested and refreshed by her dinner, matters +looked different. She could even see the force of Jack's argument about +the pony being an investment, and she wished again that she had not been +so positive in her refusal. + +But having once said no, Joyce felt that it would not be dignified to +yield. If she changed her mind this time, Jack would think that she was +inconsistent; and such is the unyielding policy of fifteen, that she +felt that she would rather be called selfish than to admit that she was +in the wrong or had been mistaken. + +It was a long afternoon. The fact that she and Jack had quarrelled kept +recurring to her constantly, and made her uncomfortable and unhappy. He +came back from the ranch at supper-time as if nothing had happened, +however, and when she asked him some question about the new microscope, +he answered with a full description that made her feel he had forgotten +their morning disagreement. + +"I don't believe that he cares so much about that pony after all," she +thought. After supper, when Holland and Mary had disposed of the dishes, +she drew out the kitchen-table, and began sprinkling clothes ready for +the next day's ironing. The boys had gone to their tent. The door was +open between the kitchen and the sitting-room so that the heat might +pass in to where Mrs. Ware sat knitting by the lamp. Mary was there +also, and her voice came out to Joyce shrilly, as if she were in the +room with her. + +"It seems a waste of time for me to be learning new pieces to say at +school when I know at least a dozen old ones that I recited in +Plainsville that would be new out here. But teacher picked this out for +me. She's going to keep us in at recess if we don't know our pieces +Friday. This has forty-eight lines in it, and I've only four nights to +learn it in." + +"That is not bad," said Mrs. Ware, consolingly. "Only twelve lines an +evening. Read it all to me, then I'll help you with the first quarter." + +Joyce stopped her humming as Mary began dramatically: + +"'A Boy of Seventy-six.' That's the name of it." She read unusually well +for a child of her age, and the verses were new to Joyce: + + "You have heard the story, time and again, + Of those brave old heroes, the 'Minute Men,' + Who left their homes to fight or fall, + As soon as they heard their country's call. + Let me tell you of one, unnamed, unknown, + A brave boy-hero, who fought alone. + When the breathless messenger drew rein + He had started whistling, down the lane + With his rod and line, to the brook for trout, + But he paused as he heard the warning shout, + And his father called to him, 'Ben, my son, + I must be off to Lexington! + There is little time for fishing now, + You must take father's place behind the plough.' + One quick good-bye! The boy stood still, + Watching him climb the homeward hill-- + In and out of the house again, + With his musket, to join the 'Minute Men.' + Then he turned the furrows, straight and true, + Just as he'd seen his father do. + He dropped the corn in the narrow rows, + And fought for its life with the weeds and crows. + Oh, it was hard, as the days wore on, + To take the place of that father, gone. + The boyish shoulders could hardly bear + All their burden of work and care. + But he thought, 'It is for my country's sake + That father's place at the plough I take. + When the war is over, and peace is won, + How proud he'll be of his little son!' + But they brought him home to a soldier's grave, + Wrapped in the flag he had died to save. + And Ben took up his burden again, + With its added weight of grief and pain, + Saying bravely, 'In all things now + I must take father's place behind the plough.' + Seed-time and harvest came and went, + Steadily still to the work he bent, + For the family needed bread, and then, + So did the half-starved fighting men. + Only a boy! Not a hero bold, + Whose deeds in the histories are told. + Still, there fell under British fire, + No braver son of a patriot sire + Than this young lad, who for duty's sake + Said, 'This is the task I'll undertake. + I cannot fight for my country now, + But I'll take father's place behind the plough.'" + +"I wonder why it is," said Mary, thoughtfully, as she came to the end, +"that all the heroes live so far away that nobody knows them except the +people who write the books and poetry about them. I wish I knew a boy +like that." + +"You do," said her mother, quietly. "One who has been just as faithful +to duty, just as much of a hero in his small way as Ben. Who said the +same thing, 'In all things now, I must take father's place behind the +plough,' and who has done it, too, so faithfully and well that he has +lifted a great burden from his mother's heart, and made living easier +for all the family." + +"Why, mamma, do I know him? Was it somebody in Plainsville? What was his +name?" + +"John Alwyn Ware," said her mother, with a smile, although her lips +trembled. + +"John Alwyn Ware," repeated Mary, with a puzzled expression. "Why, that +was papa's name, and you said that he was a boy that I knew." + +"Isn't it Jack's name, too?" asked her mother. + +"Yes, so it is! But how could _he_ take his father's place behind the +plough? Papa was a lawyer, and never had any plough." + +"Whatever is a man's life-work may be called his plough," explained Mrs. +Ware, gently, "and papa's duties were not all in his law-office. They +were at home, too, and there is where Jack tried to take his place. He +was such a little fellow. My first thought was, 'Oh, how am I ever going +to bring up my three boys without their father's help and noble +example!' and he came to me, his little face all streaked with tears, +and put his arms around me, and said, 'Don't cry, mother, I'll take +papa's place now, and help take care of the family. If I can't do +anything for awhile but just be a good boy, I'll do that much, and set +them a good example.' And from that day to this he has never given me an +anxious moment. He is a high-strung boy, fond of having his own way, and +it has often been a struggle for him to resist the temptation of doing +as his chums did, when they were inclined to be a little wild. But he +has always been true to his promise, and Holland and Norman have both +been easier to manage, because of the example of obedience he has always +set them. So you see the heroes don't always live so far away after all. +You've been living in the same house with one, and didn't know it." + +Norman came clamouring into the kitchen for something that Holland had +sent for, and Joyce lost the rest of the conversation, but what she had +heard stayed with her. Little scenes that she had almost forgotten came +up in her mind. Now she understood why Jack had so often refused to join +in the larks of the other boys. It was not because he was lazy and +indifferent, as she had sometimes thought, when he had settled down with +a book at home, instead of going with them in the evenings. She +understood, too, why he never "answered back" or asked why. Not because +he had any less spirit than Holland, or cared less for his own way. It +was because of the promise he had made beside his father's coffin. He +was setting the highest example he knew of obedience and faithfulness to +duty. + +"How could I have called him selfish?" she asked herself, "when this is +the first time he has asked for anything for his own pleasure since we +have been here. He has stayed at home and dug and delved like an old man +instead of a boy of fourteen, and of course it must be as dull for him +as it is for me. I suppose I didn't realize it, because he never +complains as I do. I've had so many more good times than he has," she +went on in her self-communing. "My trip to Europe, and the Little +Colonel's house-party,--and he was never even out of Plainsville until +we came here." + +As she thought of the house-party, she caught the gleam of the little +ring, the lover's knot of gold on her finger that Eugenia had given her +to remind her of the Road of the Loving Heart, and she stood quite still +for a moment, looking at it. + +"I believe I'll do it," she decided, finally, and fell to work so +energetically that the last damp roll of clothes was soon tucked away in +the basket. Then taking the candle from the shelf, and shading it +carefully with her hand, she hurried out to her tent. Dropping on her +knees beside her trunk, she began turning over its contents till she +reached a pink bonbon-box at the very bottom. + +Inside the box was a letter, and inside the letter was a gold coin, the +five dollars that Cousin Kate had sent her Christmas. She had put it +sacredly away as a nest-egg, intending to add to it as she could, until +there was enough to pay for a course of instruction in illustrating, by +correspondence. The address of an art school which advertised to give +such lessons, was copied on the envelope. + +As she turned the letter irresolutely in her hands, she heard Jack's +voice in the next tent, talking to Holland: + +"I wonder who'll take my place in the high school nine this year? +Wouldn't I give my eyes to pitch for them when they play the Plainsville +'Invincibles'! Wish I could see old Charlie Scudder's red head behind +the bat again! And don't I wish I could hear him giving his call for me +out by the alley gate! I'd walk from here to Phoenix just to hear it +again." + +"I don't miss the fellows much as I thought I would," said Holland, who +was hunting for a certain hook he wanted in what looked to be a hopeless +snarl of fishing-tackle. "There's some first-rate kids go to this +school, and I see about as much fun out here as I did at home." + +"I suppose it would be different with me if I went to school," said +Jack. "But it gets mighty monotonous poking around the desert by +yourself, even if you have got a gun. Now that Phil Tremont has his +horse, that will cut me out from going with him, for I'll have to foot +it wherever I go." + +"Oh, I know where there's a dandy Indian pony for sale over by +Scottsdale," began Holland. "George Lee told me about it. They're going +to put it up at auction Saturday, if they don't sell it before. Don't +you wish you had it?" + +"You can bet your only dollar I do! I tried to talk Joyce into thinking +we could afford it, but she wouldn't be convinced." + +"I don't see why she should always have the say-so," said Holland. +"She's only a year older than you are, anyhow. She sits down on +everything we want to do, as if she was our grandmother. She's too +bossy." + +"No, she isn't," answered Jack, loyally. "She knows what she is talking +about. She's had a mighty tough time trying to make one dollar do the +work of two since we've been out here. And she's worked like a squaw, +and it's powerful hard on her having so much responsibility. What she +says in this wigwam _goes_, even if it doesn't suit our tastes!" + +A warm little glow came into Joyce's heart as she knelt there beside the +trunk, unconsciously playing eavesdropper. How good it was of Jack to +uphold her that way with Holland, who was always resenting her +authority, and inclined to be rebellious. Hesitating no longer, she +reached into the tray of her trunk for the purse which held the monthly +housekeeping allowance. Taking out a crisp five-dollar bill, she folded +the coin in it, and ran out toward the boys' tent. + +The candle-light, streaming through the canvas, made a transparency on +which the green-eyed gods of the Dacotahs stood out in startling +distinctness. Holland's shadow, bending over the fishing-tackle beside +the candle, reached to the top of the tent. Jack's waved its heels over +the foot-board of the bed on which he had thrown himself. + +"Jack," she said, putting her head through the opening of the tent where +the flap was pinned back, "I've changed my mind about that investment. +I've decided to go in with you. I'll put in Cousin Kate's Christmas +money, and if you still want to take the place of the washing-machine +and wringer, we'll use the five dollars they would cost, to buy the +pony. Then I think the most appropriate name we could give it would be +_Washing_-ton!" + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +A SURPRISE + + +IN order to understand the excitement that prevailed at the Wigwam when +it was announced that the Little Colonel was on her way toward it, one +would first have to understand what an important part she had played in +the Ware household. To begin with, the place where she lived had always +seemed a sort of enchanted land to the children. "The Old Kentucky Home" +was their earliest cradle-song, and their favourite nursery-tales were +about the people and places of Lloydsboro Valley, where their mother's +happy girlhood had been passed. + +They might grow tired of Red Riding Hood and Cinderella. Aladdin and +even Ali Baba and the forty thieves might lose their charm, but no story +failed to interest them that began "Once upon a time in Lloydsboro +Valley." These reminiscences had passed from Joyce to Jack, and on down +the line, with the high chair and the Cock Robin book and the red +building-blocks, belonging to each in turn, but claimed by all. Mary's +tears, Holland's tempers, and Norman's tantrums had many a time +disappeared as if by magic, at those familiar words. + +After Joyce's return from the house-party at Locust, the Little Colonel +became the central figure of interest, and all the glamour with which +their childish imaginations had surrounded the place, now gathered +around her like a nimbus around a saint. To Mary, who had read the +"Princess Winsome" until she knew it all by heart, Lloyd was something +between an ideal princess, who played on a golden harp, and an ideal +little schoolgirl, who lived in a real palace, and did exactly as she +pleased. She could talk of nothing else, after the letter came, and +followed Joyce and her mother with innumerable questions, pausing often +before the pictures of Lloyd and Tarbaby. + +The boys' interest in her coming was increased when they found that she +was going to bring a rifle, and that her father had promised to hire a +horse for her as soon as they arrived. + +Phil, who came so often to the Wigwam now that he seemed almost one of +the family, caught so much of its enthusiasm over the coming guest, +that he planned picnics and excursions for every day of her visit. He +even had a voice in what he called the Council of War, in which it was +decided to let the two older boys move their cots out-of-doors. Holland +had been clamouring to sleep outside the tent ever since George Lee told +him that he had begun to do so, and that was what made the cowboys so +strong. + +So the gaily decorated tent, with its "figures mystical and awful," was +made ready for Lloyd, and Norman took Joyce's place in his mother's +tent. + +"She'll know that she's really out West when she once sets her eyes on +those gods of the Dacotahs," Holland said to Mary on their way to school +one morning. "As long as we call this the Wigwam, I think we ought to be +dressed up in war-paint and feathers when she gets here. I'll do it, +Mary, if you will. I'll dare you to. I'll double dare you!" + +Usually a double dare never failed to have the desired effect upon Mary. +She would attempt anything he suggested. But it was too serious a matter +to risk the first impression that such an appearance would make upon +Lloyd, so she trudged on with a resolute shake of her little blond +braids and big blue bows. + +"No, sir-ree, Holland Ware. I'm going to stay home from school that day, +and wear my very best white dress and my rosebud sash. It's just as good +as new if it is two years old, and the little spots on it where I +squirted orange-juice don't show at all when it's tied. And Joyce said +that she is going to put your hands to soak overnight, to see if she +can't get them clean for once, for if there's anything the Little +Colonel abominates, it's dirty hands and finger-nails. And you've got to +wear a necktie every day, and go into Phoenix and have your hair cut. So +there!" + +"Oh, I have, have I?" repeated Holland, mimicking her tone. "If Joyce +has all those plans in her head, she can just get them out again. I'm +not going to be a dude for any old girl in the country, I don't care if +it is Lloyd Sherman. And if she is so dreadful particular as all that, +I'll do something to shock her every day, till she gets used to it. Yes, +I believe I'll come to the table the very first meal in a blanket, with +feathers in my hair, and if you dare tell anybody beforehand, +I'll--I'll--well, I'll get even with you in a way you won't like." + +"Oh, Holland, please don't! _Please_ don't disgrace us," begged Mary, +who always took his threats in earnest. "It would be too dreadful. I'll +give you something nice if you'll promise not to." + +"What will you give me?" + +"What have I got that you want?" + +"Oh, I don't know. I'll have to think about it." + +Holland had no intention of carrying out his threats, but he kept Mary +in a fever of anxiety all week, saying one hour that he'd think about +her offer, and the next that she didn't have anything he cared for, and +that he preferred the fun of tormenting the girls to anything she could +give. + +Joyce drew a star on the kitchen calendar, over the date on which they +expected Lloyd to arrive; a big five-pointed red star. She rejoiced that +it fell on a Wednesday, for by that time the washing and ironing would +be out of the way. Her first experience in laundry-work made her look +ahead to the coming Mondays as weekly bugbears. But the second was not +so hard as the first. True to his promise, Jack did all the rubbing and +wringing, getting up at daybreak to start the fire under the big +wash-boiler out in the yard. + +This morning, as he touched a match to the little pile of kindling, and +fanned the blaze with his hat, the new pony, grazing in the alfalfa +field, came up to the pasture-bars with a whinny, and put his head over +the fence, as if to watch him. + +"Oh, you think you'll boss this job, do you, Mr. Washington?" said Jack, +who, in the short time he had had the pony, had grown as fond of him as +if he were a person, and who talked to him as if he had human +intelligence. "Well, you ought to take an interest in the washing, since +that's the way you got your name, and the reason you are here. Wait till +I get this boiler filled, and I'll bring you a lump of sugar." + +Washington was a wiry little pony. He had a wicked light in his eyes, +and was too free with his heels at times, but he had been raised as a +household pet, and stood like a kitten while Jack rubbed his nose and +fed him sugar. + +"Take it easy while you can," said Jack. "If I have to work like a dog +all morning on your account, to earn half the dollars that you cost us, +I'll put you through your paces this afternoon to make up for it. You'll +think that you are the Wild Mazeppa by the time we get back. Oh, you're +such a nice old fellow!" + +Nobody was near to see the impulsive way in which the boy threw his arms +around the pony's neck and hugged him tight. The feeling of possession +made him happy as a king, as he sat on the topmost bar braiding +Washington's shaggy forelock, while the sun came up over the Camelback, +and the morning chorus of bird-calls swelled louder and sweeter over the +awakening world. + +The fire under the boiler was crackling merrily, and the water was +steaming, when Joyce came out of her tent and started toward the +kitchen. She stopped a moment by the pasture-bars to reach through and +give the pony a friendly stroke, for she was almost as proud and fond of +him as Jack. She had had several delightful rides on him; once with Jack +for company, on Phil's new horse, and twice with Phil, when they had +raced for miles down the sandy road, past olive orchards and orange +groves, sweet with the coming of spring. + +"I'm going to clip his mane to-morrow," said Jack, as he slipped down +from his seat, and followed Joyce toward the kitchen. "He must look his +best when Lloyd comes." + +"We've done everything to that tune for a week," laughed Joyce. "'When +Lloyd comes' has grown to be a sort of refrain, running through all our +conversation. You notice now, at breakfast, and see how often it will be +used." + +Holland was the first to repeat the well-worn phrase, as he took his +seat at the table, and waited hungrily for his plate to be served. + +"When Lloyd comes you'll have some of those good little corn muffins for +breakfast, won't you, Joyce? Kentucky people aren't used to cold bread." + +Joyce smiled at Jack as the words they were waiting for were repeated, +and then almost mechanically used them herself in her answer. "We'll +have them once in awhile, I suppose, but we can't afford a very great +change in our bill of fare. We'll have a mighty skimpy dinner to-day, +for there's not much left over from Sunday, and we'll be too busy +washing to stop to cook. But I want to have a big baking before Lloyd +comes. If I go in to meet her Wednesday, in the ranch surrey, I'll have +to do the extra cooking to-morrow afternoon, I suppose, after the +ironing is out of the way." + +Mary cast an inquiring glance at the red star on the calendar. + +"Only to-day and to-morrow, then I can stay home the day after that when +Lloyd comes, and wear my best white dress and my rosebud sash." + +"Oh, that will be joyful," chanted Holland, imitating her tone. + +"I wish that I were able to help you more with the work," said Mrs. +Ware, wistfully. "Then you would have more time for preparation. Norman +and I can manage the tent work, I think, this morning. Then I'll go down +to the seat under the willows, and finish that Indian head sofa pillow. +We must have that done before Lloyd comes." + +"Seems to me that I can hardly wait," said Mary, giving an impatient +little wiggle that nearly upset her glass of milk. + +"I wish Betty were coming, too," said Joyce. "She would be making up +stories from morning till night about the strange things out here; but +she wouldn't have much peace. You children would never let her out of +your sight." + +"Like Davy did at the cuckoo's nest," said Mary, who knew Betty's +history almost as well as her own, and loved dearly to talk about it. +Betty's devotion to her godmother since she had gone to live at Locust, +and her wonderful gift for writing verses and stories made her almost as +interesting to Mary as the Little Colonel herself. As she moved about +the house after breakfast, doing the little duties that fell to her lot +before school-time, she chanted in a happy undertone all the play of the +"Rescue of the Princess Winsome," from beginning to end. + +Sir Feal, the faithful knight, had been associated in her mind with +Phil, since the day he rescued her from her fright when she was running +away from the Indian. She was the princess, and Phil the gallant knight, +who, she dreamed in her romantic little heart, might some day send her +messages by the morning-glories and forget-me-nots, as Sir Feal had +done. Of course, not now, but some day when she was grown, and wore +long, lovely dresses, and had a beautiful voice. She had pictured +herself many a time, standing by a casement window with a dove clasped +to her breast, and singing the song, "Flutter, and fly, flutter, and +fly, bear him my heart of gold." + +But now that the real princess was coming, she lost interest in her own +little day-dreams, which were of such a far-away time and so vague and +shadowy, and began dreaming them for Lloyd. She wondered what Phil would +think of her when they first met. She had already recited the entire +play to him, and showed him the miniature, and, as he studied the sweet +face at the casement, bending over the dove, he had hummed after Mary in +an absent-minded sort of way: + + "Spin, spin, oh, golden thread, + He dreams of me night and day. + The poppy's chalice is sweet and red, + Oh, Love will find a way." + +She was still humming it this morning when she came out of the back +door, ready to start to school, and her thoughts were full of the play. + +"Joyce," she remarked, critically, pausing to watch her sister put more +wood on the camp-fire and poke the clothes in the boiler with the end of +an old broom-handle, "you look like the witch in the play: + + "'On the fire + I'll pile my faggots higher and higher, + And in the bubbling water stir + This hank of hair, this patch of fur. + Bubble and boil, and snake-skin coil! + This charm shall all plans but the Ogre's foil.'" + +Joyce laughed, and Mary, slipping through the bars, followed Holland +across lots to school. "I do feel like a witch in this old dress and +sunbonnet," she said, "and I must look like one. But no one ever comes +here in the mornings but Phil, and he has had his orders to stay away on +Mondays." + +"What is the use of worrying about how you look?" asked Jack. "Nobody +expects a fellow to play Chinese laundryman with a high collar and kid +gloves on." + +Sousing the tubful of clothes into the rinse-water, Joyce went on +vigorously with her morning's work. She and Jack relapsed into busy +silence as the morning wore on, and when the clock struck eleven, +neither had spoken for nearly an hour. + +Suddenly a sound of wheels, coming rapidly along the road, and a child's +high-pitched voice made them both stop and look up to listen. "Aren't we +getting back-woodsy!" Joyce exclaimed, as Jack shook the suds from his +arms, and ran to the corner of the kitchen to watch a buggy drive past. +"So few people come out this desert road, that it is really an event to +see any one. I suppose we ought not to be blamed for staring." + +"It is Hazel Lee," said Jack. "I'm sure that's her voice. There must be +some new boarders at the ranch, for there's a strange gentleman and a +girl in the buggy with her, and she's standing up in front pointing out +the country to them." + +Joyce came and looked over his shoulder. "Yes, that's Hazel," she said. +"She's the knowingest little thing I ever saw for a child of five. You +couldn't lose her anywhere around this region, and she is as good as a +guide-book, for giving information. Mr. Ellestad was laughing the other +day about her disputing with the White Bachelor over the market price of +chickens. She was in the right, too, and proved it. She hears +everything, and never forgets anything she hears." + +[Illustration: "'I THOUGHT WE'D NEVAH, NEVAH GET HEAH!'"] + +"She's saying something now to amuse those people mightily," said Jack, +as a hearty laugh rang out above the rattle of wheels. Joyce transferred +her gaze from the chubby, bareheaded child, leaning over the dashboard +with eager gestures, to the two strangers behind her. Then she grasped +Jack's elbow with a little cry of astonishment. "It's Lloyd!" she +gasped. "Lloyd Sherman and her father, two days ahead of time. What +shall we do? Everything is in a mess, and nothing in the house for +dinner!" + +That instant Hazel's bright eyes spied them, her plump little finger +pointed them out, and Joyce had no more time to consider appearances; +for, springing over the wheel, Lloyd came running toward her, calling in +the soft Southern accent that was the sweetest music to Joyce's ears, +"Oh, you deah, darling old thing! What made you move away out to the +edge of nowhere? I thought we'd nevah, nevah get heah!" + +In the delight of seeing her again, Joyce forgot all about things being +topsyturvy, and how little there was in the house for dinner. She even +forgot to introduce Jack, who stood awkwardly waiting in the background, +till Mr. Sherman, amused at the girls' absorption in each other, +stepped out of the buggy and came forward, laughing. + +"It looks as if the two Jacks will have to introduce themselves," he +said, holding out his hand. Jack's awkwardness vanished instantly at +this hearty greeting, and a moment later he was shaking hands with Lloyd +as easily as Joyce was welcoming Lloyd's father, wholly indifferent to +his outgrown overalls and rolled-up shirt-sleeves. + +In the meantime, Hazel, who was a major-general in her small way for +comprehending situations, had, of her own accord, raced off to find Mrs. +Ware and bring her to welcome the unexpected guests. + +"And you are Aunt Emily!" exclaimed Lloyd, turning with outstretched +hands as the sweet-faced little woman came toward them. "Mothah said you +wouldn't mind if I called you that, because you and she have always been +such deah friends." + +There were tears in Mrs. Ware's eyes as she returned the impulsive kiss. +She had expected to be fond of Elizabeth's only daughter. She had hoped +to find her pretty and sweet, but she had not looked for this +winsomeness, which had been the Little Colonel's greatest charm since +babyhood. With that greeting, Lloyd walked straight into her heart. + +The surprise ended more satisfactorily than most surprises do, for, +while Jack was unhitching the horse, and Mrs. Ware was talking over old +times with Mr. Sherman, whom she had known in her school-days, some one +went whizzing around the house on a bicycle. + +"It's Jo, the Japanese chef from the ranch," said Joyce, springing up +from the front door-step where she sat with Lloyd, and starting back to +the kitchen to ask his errand. + +"Oh, let me go, too," cried Lloyd, following. "I nevah saw a Jap close +enough to speak to." + +Lloyd could not understand the pigeon-English with which he delivered a +basket he had brought, but it was evidently a funny proceeding to Jo. He +handed it over as if it had been a joke, doubling up like a jack-knife +as he pointed to the contents, and laughing so contagiously that Joyce +and Lloyd could not help laughing, too. + +"He not velly nice pie, maybe," giggled Jo. "But you eat him allee same. +Mis' Lee say you not lookee for comp'nee. You not have nuzzing cook." + +"Did Mrs. Lee tell you to bring the basket, Jo?" asked Joyce. + +He shook his head. "Mis' Lee say take soup," pointing to the large +glass jar of clearest consommé, smoking hot, which Joyce had just lifted +from the basket. "I, _me_, bling along the pie, for my compli_ment_. She +no care. She kind, Clistian lady." + +"She certainly is," laughed Joyce. "Now we can at least begin and end +our dinner in style. That's a _lovely_ pie, Jo; the prettiest I ever +saw." + +The little almond eyes twinkled, as he watched her hold up the dainty +pastry with its snowy meringue for Lloyd to admire. + +"Aw, he not velly good pie," protested Jo, with a self-conscious smirk, +knowing in his soul that it was the perfection of pastry, and eager to +hear Joyce say so again. "I make-a heap much betta nex-a time." + +Then, with another laugh, he whizzed away on his wheel, pausing under +the pepper-trees to catch up Hazel, and take her home on his +handle-bars. + +"Joyce," asked Lloyd, as she watched him disappear down the road, "did +you uncawk a bottle, or rub Aladdin's lamp? I feel as if I had walked +into the Arabian nights, to have a foreign-looking, almond-eyed chef +suddenly appear out of the desert with consommé and pie, like a genie +out of a bottle." + +"It doesn't happen every day," laughed Joyce. "I suppose that after you +stopped at the ranch to inquire the way here, and picked up Hazel for a +guide, that it occurred to Mrs. Lee that we were not looking for you +until Wednesday, and that, as this is our wash-day, maybe we wouldn't +have a very elaborate dinner prepared, and she thought she would help us +out in a neighbourly way. Jo enjoyed coming. When we were at the ranch, +he was always making delicious little extra dishes for mamma." + +"Oh, I hope our coming soonah than you expected hasn't made a +difference!" exclaimed Lloyd. "I nevah thought about yoah doing yoah own +work. Mr. Robeson decided not to stop in New Mexico as long as he had +planned, and, when I found that would put us heah two days soonah, I +wouldn't let Papa Jack telegraph. I'm so sorry." + +"Don't say another word about it," interrupted Joyce. "The only +difference it makes is to you and your father. You've not been received +in quite such good style as if we'd been dressed in our best bibs and +tuckers, but maybe you'll feel more at home, dropping right down in the +middle of things this way." + +Lloyd felt as if she certainly had dropped down in the middle of things, +into a most intimate knowledge of the Ware family's affairs. For, as +Joyce circled around, setting the table, she saw that a pitcher of milk, +bread and butter, and some cold boiled potatoes, sliced ready to fry, +was all that the pantry held for dinner. If Joyce had spoken one word of +apology, Lloyd would have felt exceedingly uncomfortable, but she only +laughed as she put the consommé on the stove to keep hot, and set out +the pie-plates on the sideboard. + +"Lucky for you," she said, "that the genie came out of his bottle. We +were spending all our energy in rushing through the laundry work, so +that we could make grand preparations for to-morrow, but we couldn't +have equalled Jo, no matter how hard we tried." + +While Joyce, talking as fast as she worked, fried the potatoes and +sliced the bread, Jack wrung out the last basketful of clothes and hung +them on the line, and then disappeared in his mother's tent to make +himself presentable for dinner. Lloyd had already had a peep into the +tent that she was to share with Joyce, and had called her father to come +and have a laugh with her over the green-eyed gods of the Dacotahs which +were to guard her slumbers during her visit to the Wigwam. He was to +leave that same night, and go on to the mines with Mr. Robeson and his +party. + +Her trunk was brought out from town soon after dinner, and, while she +partly unpacked it, putting the things she would need oftenest into the +bureau drawers that Joyce had emptied for her, Jack and Mr. Sherman +drove away to look at the horses one of the neighbours kept to hire to +tourists. They came back later with a shaggy Indian pony, which Lloyd at +once mounted for a trial ride. + +Joyce went with her on Washington as far as the White Bachelor's. Lloyd +was not accustomed to a cross saddle, or to guiding a horse by the +pressure of the bridle-reins against its neck, so they rode slowly at +first. When they were almost opposite the camp at Lee's ranch, Joyce saw +a familiar little figure trudging along the road, and wished with +sisterly solicitude that they could avert a meeting. It was Mary on her +way home from school, dusty and dishevelled, as usual at such times, one +hair-ribbon lost, and the braid it had bound hanging loose and limp over +her ear. Joyce was not near enough to see, but she felt sure that her +shoe-laces were dangling, that there was ink on her hands and maybe her +face, and that at least one button, if not more, had burst loose from +the back of her dress. She knew that the child would be overwhelmed +with mortification if she should come face to face with the Princess +Winsome in such a condition, when she had set her heart upon appearing +before her in her white dress and rosebud sash. + +Before Joyce could think of an excuse to turn back, Mary had settled the +matter for herself. Hazel had stopped her at the gate to tell her of the +unexpected arrival, so she was not wholly unprepared for this sudden +meeting. Darting up the high bank of the irrigating ditch like a little +gray lizard, she slid down on the other side into its dry bed and +crouched there till they passed. There had been no water running for +several days, but it would have made no difference to Mary. She would +have plunged in just the same, even if it had been neck deep. She simply +could not let the adored Little Colonel see her in such a plight. + +Joyce almost laughed aloud at the frantic haste in which she scuttled +out of sight, but seeing that Lloyd had been too absorbed in guiding her +pony to notice it, she said nothing, and delayed their return until she +was sure that Mary was safe in her tent. So it was that when Lloyd went +back to the Wigwam one member of the Ware family was arrayed in all her +glory according to the original programme. Mary stood out under the +pepper-trees, washed, combed, and clad, painfully conscious of her +festive garments, which had had so few occasions to be donned on the +desert, and in a quiver of eagerness. It was not only Lloyd Sherman who +was coming toward her up the road. It was the Little Colonel, the Queen +of Hearts, the Princess Winsome, the heroine of a hundred familiar +tales, and the beautiful Dream-Maiden around whom she had woven all she +knew or imagined of romance. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +IN THE DESERT OF WAITING + + +LLOYD sat with her elbows on the white kitchen table, watching Joyce at +her Saturday afternoon baking. Five busy days had passed since her +coming, and she felt almost as much at home in the Wigwam as any of the +Wares. Phil had been there every day. Mrs. Lee had invited her to the +ranch to tea, where she had met all the interesting boarders she had +heard so much about. Jack, Holland, and Norman devoted themselves to her +entertainment, and Mary followed her so adoringly, and copied so +admiringly every gesture and intonation, that Holland called her "Miss +Copy-cat" whenever he spoke to her out of his mother's hearing. + +Lloyd could not fail to see how they all looked up to her, and it was +exceedingly pleasant to be petted and deferred to by everybody, and on +all occasions. The novelty of the place had not yet worn off, and she +enjoyed watching Joyce at her housekeeping duties, and helped whenever +she would allow it. + +"How white and squashy that dough looks," she said, as Joyce turned it +deftly out on the moulding-board and began kneading it. "I'd like to put +my fingahs in it the way you do, and pat it into shape, and pinch in the +cawnahs. I wish you'd let me try to make a loaf next week. Will you, +Joyce?" + +"You may now, if you want to," said Joyce. Lloyd started to her tent to +wash her hands, but Jack's shout out in the road stopped her as she +reached the door. He was galloping toward the house as fast as +Washington could carry him, and she waited to hear what he had to say. + +"Get your rifle, quick, Lloyd!" he called, waving his hat excitedly. +"Chris says that the river is full of ducks. We can get over there and +have a shot at them before supper-time if we hurry. I'll catch your pony +and saddle him while you get ready." + +"How perfectly splendid!" cried Lloyd, her eyes shining with pleasure. +"I'll be ready in almost no time." Then, as he galloped on toward the +pasture, she turned to Joyce. "Oh, I wish _you_ could go, too!" + +"So do I," was the answer; "but it's out of the question. We've only the +one horse, you know, and I haven't any gun, and I can't leave the +baking, so there's three good reasons. But I'm glad you have the chance, +Lloyd. Run along and get ready. Don't you bother about me." + +By the time Jack came back leading Lloyd's pony, she was ready and +waiting at the kitchen door, in her white sweater and brown corduroy +riding-skirt. Her soft, light hair was gathered up under a little +hunting-cap, and she carried her rifle in its holster, ready to be +fastened to her saddle. + +"Oh, I wish you were going, too, Joyce!" she exclaimed again, as she +stood up in the stirrups and smoothed the folds of the divided skirt. +Settling herself firmly in the saddle and gathering up the reins with +one hand, she blew her an airy kiss with the other, and started off at +the brisk pace Jack set for her on Washington. + +Joyce called a laughing good-bye after them, but, as she stood shading +her eyes with her hand to watch them ride away, all the brightness +seemed to die out of the mid-afternoon sunshine. + +"How much I should have enjoyed it!" she thought. "I could ride as well +as Jack if I had his pony, and shoot as well as Lloyd if I had her +rifle, and would enjoy the trip to the river as much as either of them +if I could only leave the work. But I'm like that old Camelback +Mountain over there. I'll never get away. It will be this way all the +rest of my life." + +Through the blur of tears that dimmed her sight a moment, the old +mountain looked more hopeless than ever. She turned and went into the +house to escape the sight of it. Presently, when the loaves were in the +oven, and she had nothing to do but watch the baking, she brought her +portfolio out to the kitchen and began looking through it for a sketch +she had promised to show to Lloyd. It was the first time she had opened +the portfolio since she had left Plainsville, and the sight of its +contents made her fingers tingle. While she glanced over the sketches +she had taken such pleasure in making, both in water-colours and pen and +ink, her mother came into the kitchen. + +"Joyce," she said, briskly, "don't you suppose we could afford some +cookies while the oven is hot? I haven't baked anything for so long that +I believe it would do me good to stir around in the kitchen awhile. I'll +make some gingersnaps, and cut them out in fancy shapes, with a boy and +girl apiece for the children, as I always used to make. Are there any +raisins for the eyes and mouths?" + +It seemed so much like old times that Joyce sprang up to give her +mother a squeeze. "That will be lovely!" she cried, heartily. "Here's an +apron, and I'll beat the eggs and help you." + +"No, I want to do it all myself," Mrs. Ware protested. "And I want you +to take your sketching outfit, and go down to the clump of willows where +Jack put the rustic bench for me. There are lovely reflections in the +irrigating canal now, and the shadows are so soft that you ought to get +a very pretty picture. You haven't drawn any since we left home, and I'm +afraid your hand will forget its cunning if you never practise." + +"What's the use," was on the tip of Joyce's tongue, but she could not +dim the smile on her mother's face by her own hopeless mood, and +presently she took her box of water-colours and started off to the seat +under the willows. Mary and Norman, like two muddy little beavers, were +using their Saturday afternoon playtime in building a dam across the +lateral that watered the side yard. Joyce stood watching them a moment. + +"What's the use of your doing that?" she asked, impatiently. "It can't +stay there. You'll have to tear it down when you stop playing, and then +there'll be all your work for nothing." + +"We don't care, do we, Norman?" answered Mary, cheerfully. "It's fun +while we're doing it, isn't it, Norman?" + +As Joyce walked on, Mary's lively chatter followed her, and she could +hear her mother singing as she moved about the kitchen. She was glad +that they were all happy, but somehow it irritated her to feel that she +was the only discontented one. It made her lonely. She opened her box +and spread out her material, but she was in no mood for painting. She +couldn't get the right shade of green in the willows, and the +reflections in the water were blotchy. + +"It's no use to try," she said, finally. "Mamma was right. My hand has +already lost its cunning." + +Leaning back on the rustic seat, she began idly tracing profiles on the +paper, scarcely conscious of what she was doing. People's faces at +first, then the outline of Camelback Mountain. Abstractedly, time after +time, she traced it with slow sweeps of her brush until more than a +score of kneeling camels looked back at her from the sheet of paper. + +Presently a cough just behind her aroused her from her fit of +abstraction, and, turning hastily, she saw Mr. Ellestad, the old +Norwegian, coming toward her along the little path from the house. He +had been almost a daily visitor at the Wigwam since they moved into it, +not always coming in, usually stopping for only a moment's chat under +the pepper-trees, as he strolled by. But several times he had spent an +entire morning with them, reading aloud, while Joyce ironed and her +mother sewed, and Norman built block houses on the floor beside them. +Once he had taken tea with them. He rarely came without bringing a book +or a new magazine, or something of interest. And even when he was +empty-handed, his unfailing cheerfulness made his visits a benefaction. +Mary and Norman called him "Uncle Jan," such a feeling of kinship had +grown up between them. + +"Mary said you were here," he began, in his quaint, hesitating fashion, +"so I came to find you. I have finished my legend at last,--the legend I +have made about Camelback Mountain. You know I have always insisted that +there should be one, and as tradition has failed to hand one down to us, +the task of manufacturing one has haunted me for three winters. Always, +it seems, the old mountain has something to say to me whenever I look at +it, something I failed to understand. But at last I have interpreted its +message to mankind." + +With a hearty greeting, Joyce moved over to make room for him upon the +bench, and, as he sat down, he saw the sheet of paper on her lap +covered with the repeated outlines of the old mountain. + +"Ah! It has been speaking to you also!" he exclaimed. "What did it say?" + +"Just one word," answered Joyce,--"'_Hopeless_!' Everything out here is +hopeless. It's useless to try to do anything or be anything. If fate has +brought you here, kneel down and give up. No use to struggle, no use to +hope. You'll never get away." + +He started forward eagerly. "At first, yes, that is what I thought it +said to me. But now I know it was only the echo of my own bitter mood I +heard. But it is a mistake; that is not its message. Listen! I want to +read it to you." + +He took a note-book from his pocket. "Of course, it is crude yet. This +is only the first draft. I shall polish it and study every word, and fit +the sentences into place until the thought is crystallized as a real +legend should be, to be handed down to future generations. Then people +will not suspect that it is a home-made thing, spun from the fancy of +one Jan Ellestad, a simple old Norwegian, who had no other legacy to +leave the world he loved. This is it: + +"'Once upon a time, a caravan set out across the desert, laden with +merchandise for a far-distant market. Some of the camels bore in their +packs wine-skins that held the richest vintage of the Orient. Some bore +tapestries, and some carried dyestuffs and the silken fruits of the +loom. On Shapur's camel was a heavy load of salt. + +"'The hope of each merchant was to reach the City of his Desire before +the Golden Gate should close. There were other gates by which they might +enter, but this one, opening once a year to admit the visiting rajahs +from the sister cities, afforded a rare opportunity to those fortunate +enough to arrive at the same time. It was the privilege of any who might +fall in with the royal retinue to follow in its train to the ruling +rajah's palace, and gain access to its courtyard. And wares displayed +there for sale often brought fabulous sums, a hundredfold greater +sometimes than when offered in the open market. + +"'Only to a privileged few would the Golden Gate ever swing open at any +other time. It would turn on its hinges for any one sent at a king's +behest, or any one bearing something so rare and precious that only +princes could purchase. No common vender could hope to pass its shining +portal save in the rear of the train that yearly followed the rajahs. + +"'So they urged their beasts with all diligence. Foremost in the +caravan, and most zealous of all, was Shapur. In his heart burned the +desire to be first to enter the Golden Gate, and the first one at the +palace with his wares. But, half-way across the desert, as they paused +at an oasis to rest, a dire lameness fell upon his camel, and it sank +upon the sand. In vain he urged it to continue its journey. The poor +beast could not rise under its great load. + +"'Sack by sack he lessened its burden, throwing it off grudgingly and +with sighs, for he was minded to lose as little as possible of his +prospective fortune. But even rid of its entire load, the camel could +not rise, and Shapur was forced to let his companions go on without him. + +"'For long days and nights he watched beside his camel, bringing it +water from the fountain and feeding it with the herbage of the oasis, +and at last was rewarded by seeing it struggle to its feet and take a +few limping steps. In his distress of mind at being left behind by the +caravan, he had not noticed where he had thrown the load. A tiny rill, +trickling down from the fountain, had run through the sacks and +dissolved the salt, and when he went to gather up his load, only a +paltry portion was left, a single sackful. + +"'"Now, Allah has indeed forgotten me!" he cried, and cursing the day +that he was born, he rent his mantle, and beat upon his breast. Even if +his camel were able to set out across the desert, it would be useless to +seek a market now that he had no merchandise. So he sat on the ground, +his head bowed in his hands. Water there was for him to drink, and the +fruit of the date-palm, and the cooling shade of many trees, but he +counted them as naught. A fever of unrest consumed him. A baffled +ambition bowed his head in the dust. + +"'When he looked at his poor camel kneeling in the sand, he cried out: +"Ah, woe is me! Of all created things, I am most miserable! Of all dooms +mine is the most unjust! Why should I, with life beating strong in my +veins, and ambition like a burning simoom in my breast, be left here +helpless on the sands, where I can achieve nothing, and can make no +progress toward the City of my Desire?" + +"'One day, as he sat thus under the palms, a bee buzzed about him. He +brushed it away, but it returned so persistently that he looked up with +languid interest. "Where there are bees, there must be honey," he said. +"If there be any sweetness in this desert, better that I should go in +its quest than sit here bewailing my fate." + +"'Leaving the camel browsing by the fountain, he followed the bee. For +many miles he pursued it, till far in the distance he beheld the +palm-trees of another oasis. He quickened his steps, for an odour rare +as the perfumes of Paradise floated out to meet him. The bee had led him +to the Rose Garden of Omar. + +"'Now Omar was an alchemist, a sage with the miraculous power of +transmuting the most common things of earth into something precious. The +fame of his skill had travelled to far countries. So many pilgrims +sought him to beg his wizard touch that the question, "Where is the +house of Omar?" was heard daily at the gates of the city. But for a +generation that question had remained unanswered. No man knew the place +of the house of Omar, since he had taken upon himself the life of a +hermit. Somewhere, they knew, in the solitude of the desert, he was +practising the mysteries of his art, and probing deeper into its +secrets, but no one could point to the path leading thither. Only the +bees knew, and, following the bee, Shapur found himself in the old +alchemist's presence. + +"'Now Shapur was a youth of gracious mien, and pleasing withal. With +straightforward speech, he told his story, and Omar, who could read the +minds of men as readily as unrolled parchments, was touched by his tale. +He bade him come in and be his guest until sundown. + +"'So Shapur sat at his board and shared his bread, and rose refreshed by +his wine and his wise words. And at parting, the old man said, with a +keen glance into his eyes: "Thou thinkest that because I am Omar, with +the power to transmute all common things to precious ones, how easily I +could take the remnant of salt that is still left to thee in thy sack +and change it into gold. Then couldst thou go joyfully on to the City of +thy Desire, as soon as thy camel is able to carry thee, far richer for +thy delay." + +"'Shapur's heart gave a bound of hope, for that is truly what he had +been thinking. But at the next words it sank. + +"'"Nay, Shapur, each man must be his own alchemist. Believe me, for thee +the desert holds a greater opportunity than kings' houses could offer. +Give me but thy patient service in this time of waiting, and I will +share such secrets with thee that, when thou dost finally win to the +Golden Gate, it shall be with wares that shall gain for thee a royal +entrance." + +"'Then Shapur went back to his camel, and, in the cool of the evening, +urged it to its feet, and led it slowly across the sands. And because it +could bear no burden, he lifted the remaining sack of salt to his own +back, and carried it on his shoulders all the way. When the moon shone +white and full in the zenith over the Rose Garden of Omar, he knocked at +the gate, calling: "Here am I, Omar, at thy bidding, and here is the +remnant of my salt. All that I have left I bring to thee, and stand +ready now to yield my patient service." + +"'Then Omar bade him lead his camel to the fountain, and leave him to +browse on the herbage around it. Pointing to a row of great stone jars, +he said: "There is thy work. Every morning before sunrise, they must be +filled with rose-petals, plucked from the myriad roses of the garden, +and the petals covered with water from the fountain." + +"'"A task for poets," thought Shapur, as he began. "What more delightful +than to stand in the moonlighted garden and pluck the velvet leaves." +But after awhile the thorns tore his hands, and the rustle and hiss +underfoot betrayed the presence of serpents, and sleep weighed heavily +upon his eyelids. It grew monotonous, standing hour after hour, +stripping the rose-leaves from the calyxes until thousands and thousands +and thousands had been dropped into the great jars. The very sweetness +of the task began to cloy upon him. + +"'When the stars had faded and the east begun to brighten, old Omar came +out. "Tis well," he said. "Now break thy fast, and then to slumber with +thee, to prepare for another sleepless night." + +"'So long months went by, till it seemed to Shapur that the garden must +surely become exhausted. But for every rose he plucked, two bloomed in +its stead, and night after night he filled the jars. + +"'Still he was learning no secrets, and he asked himself questions +sometimes. Was he not wasting his life? Would it not have been better to +have waited by the other fountain until some caravan passed by that +would carry him out of the solitude to the dwellings of men? What +opportunity was the desert offering him greater than kings' houses could +give? + +"'And ever the thorns tore him more sorely, and the lonely silence of +the nights weighed upon him. Many a time he would have left his task had +not the shadowy form of his camel, kneeling outside by the fountain, +seemed to whisper to him through the starlight: "Patience, Shapur, +patience!" + +"'Once, far in the distance, he saw the black outline of a distant +caravan passing along the horizon where day was beginning to break. He +did no more work until it had passed from sight. Gazing after it with a +fierce longing to follow, he pictured the scenes it was moving +toward,--the gilded minarets of the mosques, the deep-toned ringing of +bells, the cries of the populace, and all the life and stir of the +market-place. When the shadowy procession had passed, the great silence +of the desert smote him like a pain. + +"'Again looking out, he saw his faithful camel, and again it seemed to +whisper: "Patience, Shapur, patience! So thou, too, shalt fare forth to +the City of thy Desire." + +"'One day in the waning of summer, Omar called him into a room in which +he had never been before. "Now at last," said he, "hast thou proven +thyself worthy to be the sharer of my secrets. Come! I will show thee! +Thus are the roses distilled, and thus is gathered up the precious oil +floating on the tops of the vessels. + +"'"Seest thou this tiny vial? It weighs but the weight of one rupee, +but it took the sweetness of two hundred thousand roses to make the +attar it contains, and so costly is it that only princes may purchase. +It is worth more than thy entire load of salt that was washed away at +the fountain." + +"'Shapur worked diligently at the new task till there came a day when +Omar said to him: "Well done, Shapur! Behold the gift of the desert, its +reward for thy patient service in its solitude!" + +"'He placed in Shapur's hands a crystal vase, sealed with a seal and +filled with the precious attar. + +"'"Wherever thou goest this sweetness will open for thee a way and win +for thee a welcome. Thou camest into the desert a vender of salt. Thou +shalt go forth an apostle of my alchemy. Wherever thou seest a heart +bowed down in some Desert of Waiting, thou shalt whisper to it: +'Patience! Here, if thou wilt, in these arid sands, thou mayst find thy +Garden of Omar, and from these daily tasks that prick thee sorest distil +some precious attar to sweeten all life!' So, like the bee that led thee +to my teaching, shalt thou lead others to hope." + +"'Then Shapur went forth with the crystal vase, and his camel, healed in +the long time of waiting, bore him swiftly across the sands to the City +of his Desire. The Golden Gate, that would not have opened to the +vender of salt, swung wide for the Apostle of Omar. + +"'Princes brought their pearls to exchange for his attar, and everywhere +he went its sweetness opened for him a way and won for him a welcome. +Wherever he saw a heart bowed down in some Desert of Waiting, he +whispered Omar's words and tarried to teach Omar's alchemy, that from +the commonest experiences of life may be distilled its greatest +blessings. + +"'At his death, in order that men might not forget, he willed that his +tomb should be made at a place where all caravans passed. There, at the +crossing of the highways, he caused to be cut in stone that emblem of +patience, the camel, kneeling on the sand. And it bore this inscription, +which no one could fail to see, as he toiled past toward the City of his +Desire: + +"'"Patience! Here, if thou wilt, on these arid sands, thou mayst find +thy Garden of Omar, and even from the daily tasks which prick thee +sorest mayst distil some precious attar to bless thee and thy fellow +man." + +"'A thousand moons waxed and waned above it, then a thousand, thousand +more, and there arose a generation with restless hearts, who set their +faces ever westward, following the sun toward a greater City of Desire. +Strange seas they crossed, new coasts they came upon. Some were +satisfied with the fair valleys that tempted them to tarry, and built +them homes where the fruitful hills whispered stay. But always the sons +of Shapur pushed ahead, to pitch their tents a day's march nearer the +City of their Desire, nearer the Golden Gate, which opened every sunset +to let the royal Rajah of the Day pass through. Like a mirage that +vision lured them on, showing them a dream gate of opportunity, always +just ahead, yet ever out of reach. + +"'As in the days of Shapur, so it was in the days of his sons. There +were those who fell by the way, and, losing all that made life dear, +cried out as the caravan passed on without them that Allah had forgotten +them; and they cursed the day that they were born, and laid hopeless +heads in the dust. + +"'But Allah, the merciful, who from the beginning knew what Desert of +Waiting must lie between every son of Shapur and the City of his Desire, +had long before stretched out His hand over one of the mountains of His +continent. With earthquake shock it sank before Him. With countless +hammer-strokes of hail and rain-drops, and with gleaming rills he +chiselled it, till, as the centuries rolled by, it took the semblance +of that symbol of patience, a camel, kneeling there at the passing of +the ways. And to every heart bowed down and hopeless, it whispers daily +its message of cheer: + +"'"_Patience! Thou camest into the desert a vender of salt, thou mayst +go forth an Alchemist, distilling from Life's tasks and sorrows such +precious attar in thy soul that its sweetness shall win for thee a +welcome wherever thou goest, and a royal entrance into the City of thy +Desire!_" + +There was a long silence when Mr. Ellestad closed his note-book. Joyce +had turned her face away to watch the mountain while he read, so he +could not see whether the little tale pleased her or not. But suddenly a +tear splashed down on the paper in her lap, and she drew her hand +hastily across her eyes. + +"You see, it seems as if you'd written that just for me," she said, +trying to laugh. "I think it's beautiful! If ever there was a heart +bowed down in a desert of waiting, I was that one when I came out here +this afternoon. But you have given a new meaning to the mountain, Mr. +Ellestad. How did you ever happen to think of it all?" + +"A line from Sadi, one of the Persian poets, started me," he answered. +"'_Thy alchemist, Contentment be._' It grew out of that--that and my +own unrest and despondency." + +"Look!" she cried, excitedly. "Do you see that? A bee! A bee buzzing +around my head, as it did Shapur's, and I can't drive him away!" + +She flapped at it with her handkerchief. "Oh, there it goes now. I +wonder where it would lead us if we could follow it?" + +"Probably to some neighbour's almond orchard," answered Mr. Ellestad. + +"Oh, dear!" sighed Joyce. "I wish that there was a bee that I could +follow, and a real rose garden that I could find. It sounds so beautiful +and easy to say, 'Out of life's tasks and sorrows distil a precious +attar in thy soul,' and I'd like to, heaven knows, but, when it comes to +the point, how is one actually to go about it? If it were something that +I could do with my hands, I'd attempt it gladly, no matter how hard; but +doing the things in an allegory is like trying to take hold of the girl +in the mirror. You can see her plainly enough, but you can't touch her. +I used to feel that way about 'Pilgrim's Progress,' and think that if I +only had a real pack on my back, as Christian had, and could start off +on a real road, that I could be sure of what I was doing and the +progress I was making. I wish you'd tell me how to begin really living +up to your legend." + +She spoke lightly, but there was a wistful glance in the laughing eyes +she turned toward him. + +"You will first have to tell me what is the City of your Desire." + +"Oh, to be an artist! It has always been that. To paint beautiful +pictures that will live long after I am gone, and will make people +better and happier. Then the work itself would be such a joy to me. Ever +since I have been old enough to realize that I will have to do something +to earn my own living, I've hoped that I could do it in that way. I have +had lessons from the best teachers we could get in Plainsville, and +Cousin Kate took me to the finest art galleries in Europe, and promised +to send me to the Art League in New York if I finished my high school +course creditably. + +"But we had to come out here, and that ended everything. I can't help +saying, like Shapur, 'Why should I, with life beating strong in my +veins, and ambition like a burning simoom in my breast, be left here +helpless on the sands, where I can achieve nothing and make no progress +toward the City of my Desire?' It seems especially hard to have all this +precious time wasted, when I had counted so much on the money I +expected to earn,--enough to keep mamma comfortable when she grows old, +and to give the other children all sorts of advantages." + +"And you do not believe that these 'arid sands' hold anything for you?" +said Mr. Ellestad. + +Joyce shook her head. + +"It takes something more than a trained hand and a disciplined eye to +make an artist," he answered, slowly. "Did you ever think that it is the +soul that has to be educated? That the greater the man behind the brush, +the greater the picture will be? Moses had his Midian before he was +worthy to be 'Lawgiver' to his people. Israel had forty years of +wilderness-wandering before it was fit for its Promised Land. David was +trained for kingship, not in courts, but on the hillsides with his +flocks. + +"This is the secret of Omar's alchemy, to gather something from every +person we meet, from every experience life brings us, as Omar gathered +something from the heart of every rose, and out of the wide knowledge +thus gained, of human weaknesses and human needs, to distil in our own +hearts the precious oil of sympathy. That is the attar that will win for +us a welcome wherever we go,--sympathy. The quick insight and deep +understanding that help us to interpret people. And nobody fills his +crystal vase with it until he has been pricked by the world's +disappointments and bowed by its tasks. No masterpiece was ever painted +without it. A man may become a fine copyist, but he can never make +anything live on canvas until he has first lived deeply himself. + +"Do not think your days wasted, little friend. Where could you learn +such lessons of patience and courage as here on this desert where so +many come to die? Where could you grow stronger than in the faithful +doing of your commonplace duties, here at home, where they all need you +and lean upon you? + +"You do not realize that, if you could go on now to the City of your +Desire, the little you have to offer the world would put you in the rank +of a common vender of salt,--you could only follow in the train of +others. Is not waiting worth while, if it shall give you wares with +which to win a _royal_ entrance?" + +"Oh, yes," answered Joyce, in a quick half-whisper, as the musical voice +paused. She was looking away toward the mountain with a rapt expression +on her uplifted face, as of one who sees visions. All the discontent +had vanished now. It was glowing with hope and purpose. + +As Mr. Ellestad rose to go, she turned impulsively to thrust both +outstretched hands into his. "I can never thank you enough!" she +exclaimed. "Old Camelback will be a constant inspiration to me after +this instead of an emblem of hopelessness. _Please_ come in and read the +legend to mamma! And may I copy it sometime? Always now I shall think of +you as _Omar_. I shall call you that in my thoughts." + +"Thank you, little friend," he said, softly, as they walked on toward +the house. "I have failed to accomplish many things in life that I had +hoped to do, but the thought that one discouraged soul has called me its +Omar makes me feel that I have not lived wholly in vain." + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +LLOYD'S DUCK HUNT + + +MEANWHILE, Lloyd and Jack, riding along toward the river, were enjoying +every moment of the sunny afternoon. Leaving the road at the White +Bachelor's, they followed the trail across a strip of desert. + +[Illustration: "ENJOYING EVERY MOMENT OF THE SUNNY AFTERNOON"] + +"Look out for gopher holes," called Jack. "If your horse should happen +to stumble into one, you'll be over his head before you can say 'scat.' +The little pests burrow everywhere." + +As he spoke, his pony sprang to one side of the road with a suddenness +that nearly threw him from the saddle. + +"You old goose!" he exclaimed. "That was nothing but a stick you shied +at. But it does look remarkably like a snake, doesn't it, Lloyd? That's +the way with all these ponies. They're always on the watch for rattlers, +and they'll shy at anything that looks the least bit like one." + +"I didn't know that we'd find snakes out heah in this dry sand," said +Lloyd, in surprise. + +"Yes, you'll find almost anything if you know just where to look,--a +whole menagerie. There are owls and snakes living together in the same +holes. Wait! It looks as if there might be a nest of them yonder. I'll +stir it up and see." + +Leaving the trail, he rode up between a clump of sage-brush and +greasewood bushes, and threw his hat with all his force toward a hole +beneath them. A great, sleepy owl fluttered out, and sailed off with a +slow flapping of wings to the shelter of a stubby mesquit farther on. + +"If we had time to dig into the nest, we'd find a snake in there," +declared Jack, hanging down from his saddle, cowboy fashion, to pick up +his hat from the ground as he rode along. He could feel that Lloyd +admired the easy grace with which he did it, and that she was interested +in the strange things he had to tell about the desert. He was glad that +Phil was not along, for Phil, with his three years' advantage in age and +six inches in height, had a way of monopolizing attention that made Jack +appear very young and insignificant. He resented being made to feel like +a little boy when he was almost a year older than Lloyd and several +inches taller. + +This was the first time he had been out alone with her, and the first +time that he had had a chance to show her that he could be entertaining +when he tried. Joyce and Mary and Phil had always had so much to say +that he had kept in the background. + +The sun on Lloyd's hair made it gleam like sunshine itself, tucked up +under her jaunty little hunting-cap. The exercise was bringing a deeper +colour to the delicate wild-rose pink of her cheeks, and, as her eyes +smiled mischievously up at him whenever he told some tale that seemed +almost too big to believe, he decided that she was quite the nicest girl +he had ever known, except Joyce, and fully as agreeable to go hunting +with as any boy. + +In that short trip he pointed out more strange things than she could +have seen in a whole afternoon in the streets of Paris or London. There +were the wonderful tiny trap-doors leading down into the silk-lined +tunnels of the cunning trap-door spiders; the hairy tarantulas; the +lizards; the burrows of the jack-rabbits; a trail made by the feet of +coyotes on their way to the White Bachelor's poultry-yard. + +Then he pointed out a great cactus, sixty feet high, branched like a +candelabrum, and told her that the thorny trunk is like a great sealed +cup, full of the purest water, and that more than one traveller has +saved his life by boring into one of these desert wells when he was +perishing of thirst. + +He told her how the Navajo Indians hunt the prairie-dogs, sticking up a +piece of mirror at the entrance to the mound, and lying in wait for the +little creature to come out. When it meets its own reflection, and sees +what it supposes to be a strange prairie-dog mocking it at its own front +door, it hurries out to fight, and the Indian pins it to the ground with +his arrow. + +"Now, we'll have to go faster and make up for lost time," he exclaimed, +as they left the desert and turned into a road leading to Tempe, a +little town several miles away on Salt River. "There is an old ruin near +this road, where the Indians had a fort of some kind, that I'd like to +show you, but it's getting late, and we'd better hurry on to the river. +Let's gallop." + +Lloyd had enjoyed many a swift ride, but none that had been so +exhilarating as this. The pure, fresh air blowing over the desert was +unlike any she had ever breathed before, it seemed so much purer and +more life-giving. It was a joy just to be alive on such a day and in +such a place. She felt that she knew some of the delight a bird must +feel winging its wild, free way through the trackless sky. + +"I'd like to show you the town, too," Jack said, as they came to the +ford in the river leading over to Tempe. "The Mexican quarter is so +foreign-looking. But, as we're out to kill, we'll just keep on this +side, and follow the river up-stream a piece. Chris said that is where +he saw the ducks." + +"Oh, I'd be the proudest thing that evah walked," she exclaimed, "if I +could only shoot one. A peacock couldn't hold a candle to me. It would +be worth the trip to Arizona just to do that, if I nevah did anothah +thing. How I could crow ovah Malcolm and Rob. Oh, Jack, you haven't any +idea how much I want to!" + +"You shall have first pop at them," Jack answered. "You don't stand as +good a show with that little rifle as I do. You'll have to wait till you +get up just as close as possible." + +Compared to the broad Ohio, which Lloyd was accustomed to seeing, Salt +River did not look much wider than a creek. She was in a quiver of +excitement when they turned the bend, and suddenly came in sight of the +beautiful water-fowl. The ponies, trained to stand perfectly still +wherever they were left, came to a sudden halt as the two excited +hunters sprang off, and crept stealthily along the bank. + +"They'll see your white sweater," cautioned Jack. "Stoop down, and sneak +in behind the bushes." + +"Then I'd bettah wait heah," returned Lloyd, "and you go on. I don't +believe I could hit a bahn doah now, I'm in such a shake. I must have +the 'buck ague.' If I bang into them, I'll just frighten them all away, +and you won't get a shot." + +It was a temptation to Jack to do as she urged. This was the first sight +he had had of a duck since he had owned a gun, and the glint of the +iridescent feathers as the pretty creatures circled and dived in the +water made him tingle with the hunters' thrill. + +"No," he exclaimed, as she insisted. "I brought you out here to shoot a +duck, and I don't want to take you back without one." + +"Then I'll get down and wiggle along in the sand so they can't see me," +said Lloyd, "just like 'Lawless Dick, the Half-breed Huntah.' Isn't this +fun!" + +Crawling stealthily through the greasewood bushes, they crept inch by +inch nearer the water, fairly holding their breath with excitement. +Then Lloyd, rising to her knees, levelled her rifle to take aim. But her +hands shook, and, lowering it, she turned to Jack, whispering, "I'm suah +I'll miss, and spoil yoah chance. You shoot!" + +"Aw, go on!" said Jack, roughly, forgetting, in his excitement, that he +was not speaking to a boy. "Don't be a goose! You can hit one if you +try!" + +The commanding tone irritated Lloyd, but it seemed to steady her nerves, +for, flashing an indignant glance at him, she raised her rifle again, +and aimed it with deliberate coolness. _Bang!_ + +Jack, who knelt just beside her, prepared to fire the instant her shot +should send a whir of wings into the air, gave a wild whoop, and dropped +his gun. + +"Hi!" he yelled. "You've hit it! See it floating over there! Wait a +minute. I'll get it for you!" + +Crashing through the bushes he ran back to where Washington stood +waiting, and, swinging himself into the saddle, spurred him down the +bank. But the pony, who had never balked before with him at any ford, +seemed unwilling to go in. + +"Hurry up, you old slow-poke!" called Jack. "Don't you see it's getting +away?" + +He succeeded in urging him into the middle of the river, where the water +was almost up to the pony's body, but half-way across, the pony began to +plunge, and turned abruptly about. Then his hind feet seemed to give +way, and he went suddenly back on his haunches. At the same instant a +gruff voice called from the bank, "Come out of that, you little fool! +Don't you know there's quicksand there? Head your cayuse down the river! +Quick! Spur him up! Do you want to drown yourself?" + +With a desperate plunge and a flounder or two, the pony freed himself, +and struggled back to safe ground, past the treacherous quicksand. As +Jack reached the bank he saw the White Bachelor peering at him from the +back of his white horse. He was evidently on the same mission, for he +wore a hunting-coat, as brown and weather-beaten as his swarthy face, +and carried an old gun on his shoulder. + +"You'd have been sucked clean through to China, if you'd gone much +farther over," he said, crossly. "That's one of the worst places in the +river." Although his tone was savage, there was a pleasant gleam in his +eyes as he added: "Too bad you've lost your duck." + +"Haven't lost it yet," said Jack, with a glance toward the dark object +floating rapidly down-stream. He kicked off his boots as he spoke. + +"Oh, Jack, please don't go in after it!" begged Lloyd. "It isn't worth +such a risk." The word quicksand had frightened her, for she had heard +much of the dangerous spots in the rivers of this region. + +"Bound to have it!" called Jack, "for you might not get another shot, +and I'm bound not to take you back home without one." + +Striking out into the water regardless of his sweater and heavy corduroy +trousers, he paddled after it. By this time the entire flock was out of +sight, and when Jack emerged from the river dripping like a water-dog, +the man remarked, coolly: "Well, your hunt's up for this day, Buddy. +Better skip home and hang yourself up to dry, or you'll be having +pneumonia. Aren't you one of the kids that lives at that place where +they've got Ware's Wigwam painted on the post, and all sorts of +outlandish figgers on the tents?" + +"Yes," acknowledged Jack, in a surly tone, resenting the name kid. Then, +remembering the fate that the man's warning had saved him from, he +added, gratefully: "It was lucky for me you yelled out quicksand just +when you did, for I was so bent on getting that duck that I'd have kept +on trying, no matter how the pony cut up. I thought he had taken a +stubborn spell, and wanted to balk at the water. I'm a thousand times +obliged. Here, Lloyd," he added. "Here's your trophy. We'll hang it on +your saddle." + +He held out the fowl, a beautifully marked drake, but she drew back with +a little shrug of the shoulders. + +"Oh, mercy, no!" she answered. "I wouldn't touch it for the world!" + +"Haw! Haw!" roared the White Bachelor, who had watched her shrinking +gesture with a grin. "Afraid of a dead duck!" + +"I'm not!" she declared, turning on him, indignantly. "I'm not afraid of +anything! But I just can't beah to touch dead things, especially with +fu'h or feathahs on them. Ugh! It neahly makes me sick to think about +it!" + +"Well, if that don't beat the Dutch," said the man, in an amused tone, +after a long stare. She seemed to be a strange species of womankind, +with which he was unacquainted. Then, after another prolonged stare, he +swung his heels against the sides of his old white horse as a signal to +move, and ambled slowly off, talking to himself as he went. + +"Meddlesome old thing!" muttered Lloyd, casting an indignant glance +after him. "It's none of his business. I don't see what he wanted to +poke in for." + +"It was lucky for me that he did," answered Jack. "I never once thought +of quicksand. Queer that I didn't, too, when I've heard so much about it +ever since I came. It's all through Southern Arizona, and more than one +man has lost his life blundering into it." + +Lloyd grew serious as she realized the danger he had escaped. "It was +mighty brave of you to go back into the rivah aftah you came so neah +being drowned, and just fo' my pleasuah--just because you knew I wanted +that duck. I'll remembah it always of you, Jack." + +"Oh, that's nothing," he answered, carelessly, blushing to the roots of +his wet hair. "When I once start out to get a thing, I hate to be +beaten. I'd have swam all the way to Jericho rather than let it get +away. But I hope you won't always think of me as sloshing around in the +water, though I suppose you can't help that, for you know the first +time you saw me I was over my elbows in a washtub." + +"That's so," laughed Lloyd. "But you weren't quite as wet then as you +are now. It's a pity you can't wring yourself as dry as you did those +towels." + +While Jack was tugging into his boots, she went back to the bushes for +the gun he had dropped. Then she stood drawing out the loads while he +tied the duck to his saddle. + +"Poah thing," said Lloyd. "It looked so beautiful swimming around in the +watah a few minutes ago. Now it's mate will be so lonesome. Papa Jack +says wild ducks nevah mate again. Of co'se," she went on, slowly, "I'm +proud to think that I hit it, but now that it's dead and I took it's +life, I feel like a murdahah. Jack, I'm nevah going to kill anothah one +as long as I live." + +"But it isn't as if you'd done it just for sport," protested Jack. "They +were meant for food. Wait till Joyce serves it for dinner, and you'll +change your mind." + +"No," she said, resolutely, "I'll keep my rifle for rattlesnakes and +coyotes, in case I see any, and for tah'get practice, but I'm not going +to do any moah killing of this kind. I'm glad that I got this one, +though," she added, as she swung herself into the saddle. "I'll send +grandfathah a feathah, and one to Mom Beck. They'll both be so proud. +And I'll send one to Malcolm and one to Rob, and they'll both be so +envious, to think that I got ahead of them." + +"May I have one?" asked Jack, "just to keep to remember my first duck +hunt?" + +"Yes, of co'se!" cried Lloyd. "I wouldn't have had any myself, if it +hadn't been for you. You have given me one of the greatest pleasuahs I +evah had. This has been a lovely aftahnoon." + +"Then I can count that quite a 'feather in my cap,' can't I," said Jack, +laughingly. Reaching down, he selected the prettiest feather he could +find, and thrust the long quill through his hatband. Lloyd glanced +quickly at him. She would have expected such a complimentary speech from +Malcolm or Phil, but coming from the quiet, matter-of-fact Jack, such a +graceful bit of gallantry was a surprise. + +"You can save the down for a sofa-cushion, you know," he added. "Even if +you have sworn off shooting any more yourself, you can levy on all that +Phil and I get, to finish it." + +"Oh, thank you," she called back over her shoulder. Her pony, finding +that he was turned homeward, was setting off at his best gait. Slapping +his hat firmly on his head, Jack hurried to overtake her, and the two +raced along neck to neck. + +"This is how they brought the good news from Ghent to Aix," he called. +"I recited it once at school! + + "'Not a word to each other; we kept the great pace,-- + Neck by neck, stride by stride, never changing our place.'" + +"Isn't it glorious?" called back Lloyd. Her cheeks dimpled with +pleasure, and were growing red as a sun-ripened peach from the exercise. +Her hat-pin began slipping out. Snatching at the little cap, she caught +it just in time to save it from sailing off into the desert, but her +hair came slipping down over her shoulders to her waist, in soft, +shining waves. Jack thought that he had never seen anything prettier +than the little golden ripples in it, as it floated back behind her in +the sunshine. + +"You look like Goldilocks when the three bears chased her," he laughed. +"Don't try to put it up again. That's squaw fashion. You ought to wear +it that way all the time you're out here, if you want to be in style." + +Across the road from the Wigwam, Mary and Norman were waiting for the +return of the hunters. They had rolled a barrel from the back yard over +to the edge of the desert, where they could watch the road, and, turning +it on its side, had laid a plank across it, left from flooring the +tents. On this they were seesawing up and down, taking turns at +occupying the end which faced in the direction Jack and Lloyd would +come. Mary happened to have the coveted seat when they came in sight. + +"Gay go up, and gay go down," she chanted, as the seesaw rose and fell +with delightful springiness. "All the way to London town." Norman was +high in the air when she began again, "Gay go up," but it was anything +but gay go down for Norman. With an unexpectedness that he was wholly +unprepared for, Mary's chant ended with a whoop of "Here they come!" She +sprang off, and ran to meet them, regardless of the other end of the +plank. It fell with such a thud that Norman felt that his spinal column +must certainly have become unjointed in the jolt, and his little white +teeth shut down violently on his little red tongue. + +His cries and Mary's shout of "Here they come" brought Joyce to the +door. Mr. Ellestad was just leaving. She had prevailed upon him to read +the legend to her mother, and then he had stayed on till sundown, +discussing the different things that a girl might do on the desert to +earn money. The story of Shapur had inspired her with a hope that made +all things possible. She was glad that Lloyd's triumph gave her an +outlet for her enthusiasm. + +As soon as Mr. Ellestad left, she hustled Jack off to his mother's tent +to change his wet clothes, and then started to build the fire for +supper. "It's a pity that it's too dark for me to take a snap shot of +you with that duck," she said. "But the first one that Jack or Phil +kills we'll have a picture of it. It will do just as well. Then if I +were you I'd make some little blotting-pads of white blotting-paper, put +a blue-print on the top sheet, of you and your rifle and the duck, and +at the top fasten one of the feathers made into a pen. You can split the +end of the quill, you know, just as they used to make the old-fashioned +goose-quill pens." + +"So I can!" cried Lloyd. "I'm so glad you thought of it. Oh, Joyce, I've +had the best time this aftahnoon! I had no idea the desert could be so +interesting!" + +"Nor I, either," began Joyce. "I'll tell you about it some other time," +she added, as Holland burst in, demanding to see the duck that Lloyd had +killed. Mary had run down the road to meet him with the news, but he +stoutly declined to believe that a girl could have accomplished such a +feat, until he had the proof of it in his hands. Then to Lloyd's +delight he claimed the honour of picking it. She felt that she would +rather throw it away than go through the ordeal herself, yet she could +not impose such a task on any one else at such a late hour on a busy +Saturday. + +"Oh, if you only will," she cried, "I'll let you use my rifle all next +Saturday. I didn't see how I could possibly touch it! That down is so +thick undah the long outside feathahs, that it would be as bad as +picking a--a _cat_!" + +Holland ripped out a handful with a look of fine scorn. "Well, if you +aren't the funniest!" he exclaimed. "Girls are awful finicky," he +confided to Mary later. "I'm glad that I'm not one." + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +THE SCHOOL OF THE BEES + + +WITH her slipper toes caught in the meshes of the hammock to keep her +from falling out, and with her head hanging over nearly to the ground, +Mary lay watching something beneath her, with breathless interest. + +"What is it, Mary?" called Phil, as he came up and threw himself down on +the grass beside her, in the shade of the bushy umbrella-tree. + +She pointed to a saucer of sugar and water just below her, on the edge +of which several bees had alighted. "I put it there," she said, in a low +tone, as if afraid of disturbing the bees. "Mr. Ellestad has been +telling us how smart they are, and I wanted to watch them do some of +their strange things myself. He wants Joyce to raise bees instead of +chickens or squabs or any of the things they were talking about doing. +He came up after dinner with some books, and told us so much about them, +that I learned more than I would in a whole week in school. Joyce and +Lloyd were so interested that, as soon as he left, they rode right over +to Mr. Shaw's bee ranch to find out how much a hive costs, and all about +it." + +"Have they been gone long?" asked Phil, more interested in the girls +than in the bees. Finding that they had been away more than an hour, and +that it was almost time for their return, he settled himself to wait, +feigning an interest almost as great as Mary's in the saucer of sugar +and water. There was something comical to him always in Mary's serious +moods, and the grave expression of the little round face, as it hung +over the edge of the hammock, promised enough amusement to make the time +pass agreeably. + +"When one bee gets all he can carry, he goes and tells the others," +explained Mary. "I've had six, so far. I suppose you know about Huber," +she asked, looking up eagerly. "I didn't till Mr. Ellestad read us a lot +about him out of one of the books he brought." + +"I've heard of him," answered Phil, smiling, as he saw how much she +wanted the pleasure of repeating her newly gained knowledge. "Suppose +you tell me." + +"Well, he was born in Switzerland--in Geneva, and when Lloyd found that +out, she was ready to read anything he had written, or to study anything +he was interested in. She just loves Geneva. That was where she met the +major who gave her Hero, her Red Cross war-dog, you know, and that is +where he saved her life, by stopping a runaway horse. + +"Well, Huber went blind when he was just a boy, and he would have had a +terribly lonesome time if it hadn't been for the bees. He began to study +them, and they were so interesting that he went on studying them his +whole life. He had somebody to help him, of course, who watched the +hives, and told him what went on inside, and he found out more about +them than anybody had ever done before, and wrote books about them. It +is two hundred years since then, and a whole library has been written +about bees since then, but his books are still read, and considered +among the best. + +"Holland said, Pooh! the bees couldn't teach _him_ anything. He'd just +as soon go to a school of grasshoppers, and that I'd be a goose if I +spent my time watching 'em eat sugar and water out of a dish. He was +going off fishing with George Lee. He wouldn't wait to hear what Mr. +Ellestad had to say. But all the fish in the canal wouldn't do me as +much good as one thing I learned from the bees." + +"What was that?" asked Phil, lazily, stretching himself out full length +on the grass, and pulling his hat over his eyes. + +"Sometimes it happens that something gets into the hives that don't +belong there; like a slug. Once a mouse got in one, and it told in the +book about a child dropping a snail in one. Well, the bees can sting +such things to death, but they're not strong enough to drag them out +after they're dead, and if the dead bodies stayed in the hives they'd +spoil everything after awhile. So the bees just cover them all over with +wax, make an air-tight cell, and seal them up in it. Isn't that smart? +Then they just leave it there and go off about their business, and +forget about it. Mr. Ellestad said that's what people ought to do with +their troubles that can't be cured, but have to be endured. They ought +to seal them up tight, and stop talking and fretting about them--keep +them away from the air, he said, seal them up so they won't poison their +whole life. That set me to thinking about the trouble that is poisoning +my happiness, and I made up my mind I'd pretend it was just a snail that +had crept into my hive. I can't change it, I can't drag it out, but I +won't let it spoil all my honey." + +"Well, bless my soul!" exclaimed Phil, sitting up very straight, and +looking at her with an interest that was unfeigned this time. "What +trouble can a child like you have, that is so bad as all that?" + +"Won't you ever tell?" said Mary, "and won't you ever laugh at me?" She +was eager to unburden her soul, but afraid of appearing ridiculous in +the eyes of her hero. "Well, it's being so fat! I've always wanted to be +tall and slender and willowy, like the girls in books. I always play I +am, when Patty and I go off by ourselves at recess. I have such good +times then, but when I come back the boys call me Pudding, and Mother +Bunch and _Gordo_. I think that is Spanish for _fat_. My face is just as +round as a full moon, and my waist--well, Holland calls me _Chautauqua_, +and that's Indian for bag-tied-in-the-middle. There isn't a girl in +school that has such legs as mine. I can barely reach around them with +both hands." + +She pulled her short gingham skirt farther over her knees as she spoke, +and stole a side glance at Phil to see if he were taking as serious a +view of her troubles as the situation demanded. He was staring straight +ahead of him with a very grave face, for he had to draw it into a frown +to keep from laughing outright. + +"I'd give anything to be like Lloyd," she continued. "She's so straight +and graceful, and she holds her head like a real princess. But she grew +up that way, I suppose, and never did have a time of being dumpy like +me. They used to call her 'airy, fairy Lillian' when she was little, +because she was so light on her feet." + +"They might well call her that now," remarked Phil, looking toward the +road down which she was to appear. Mary, about to plunge into deeper +confidences, saw the glance, and saw that he had shifted his position in +order to watch for the coming of the girls. She felt that he was not as +interested as she had supposed. Maybe he wouldn't care to hear how she +stood every day in the tent before the mirror, to hold her shoulders as +Lloyd did, or throw back her head in the same spirited way. Maybe he +wouldn't understand. Maybe he would think her vain and silly and a +copy-cat, as Holland called her. Lloyd would not have rattled on the way +she had been doing. Oh, why had she been born with such a runaway +tongue! + +Covered with confusion, she sat so long without speaking that Phil +glanced at her, wondering at the unusual silence. To his surprise there +was an expression of real distress on the plump little face, and the +gray eyes were winking hard to keep back the tears. + +"So that is the trouble, is it?" he said, kindly, not knowing what was +in her thought. "Well, it's a trouble you'll probably outgrow. I used to +go to school with a girl that was nicknamed Jumbo, because she weighed +so much, and she grew up to be as tall and slim as a rail; so you see +there is hope for you. In the meantime, you are a very sensible little +girl to take the lesson of the bees to heart. Just seal up your trouble, +and don't bother your head about it, and be your own cheerful, happy +little self. People can't help loving you when you are that way, and +they don't want you to be one mite different." + +Phil felt like a grandfather as he gave this bit of advice. He did not +see the look of supreme happiness which crossed Mary's face, for at that +moment the girls came riding up to the house, and he sprang up to meet +them. + +"I'll unsaddle the ponies," he said, taking the bridles as the girls +slid to the ground, and starting toward the pasture. By the time he +returned, Mary had carried some chairs out to the hammock, and Joyce +had brought a pitcher of lemonade. + +"Come, drink to the success of my new undertaking," she called. "It's +all so far off in the future that mamma says I'm counting my chickens +before they are hatched, but--I'm going into the bee business, Phil. Mr. +Shaw will let me have a hive of gold-banded Italian bees for eight +dollars. I don't know when I'll ever earn that much money, but I'll do +it some day. Then that hive will swarm, and the new swarms will swarm, +and with the honey they make I'll buy more hives. There is such a long +honey-making time every year in this land of flowers, that I'll be +owning a ranch as big as Mr. Shaw's some day, see if I don't! I always +wanted a garden like Grandmother Ware's, with a sun-dial and a beehive +in it, just for the artistic effect, but I never dreamed of making a +fortune out of it." + +"And I intend to get some hives as soon as I go back to Locust," said +Lloyd. "It will be the easiest way in the world to raise money for ou' +Ordah of Hildegarde. That's the name of the club I belong to," she +explained to Phil. "One of its objects is to raise money for the poah +girls in the mountain schools. We get so tiahed of the evahlasting +embroidery and fancy work, and, as Mr. Ellestad says, this is so +interesting, and one can learn so much from the bees." + +"That's what Mary was telling me," said Phil, gravely. "But I must +confess I never got much out of them. I investigated them once when I +was a small boy--stirred up the hive with a stick, and by the time I was +rescued I was pretty well puffed up. Not with a sense of my wisdom, +however. They stung me nearly to death. So I've rather shrunk from +having any more dealings with them." + +"You can't deny that they gave you a good lesson in minding your own +business," laughed Lloyd. + +"Well, I don't care to have so many teachers after me, all teaching me +the same thing. I prefer variety in my instructors." + +"They don't all teach the same thing," cried Joyce, enthusiastically. "I +had no idea how the work was divided up until I began to study them. +People have watched them through glass hives, you know, with black +shutters. They have nurses to tend the nymphs and larvæ, and ladies of +honour, who wait on the queen, and never let her out of their sight. And +isn't it odd, they are exactly like human beings in one thing, they +never turn their back on the queen. Then there are the house bees, who +both air and heat the hives by fanning their wings, and sometimes they +help to evaporate the honey in the same way, when there is more water in +the flower nectar than usual. There are architects, masons, waxworkers, +and sculptors, and the foragers, who go out to the flowers for the +pollen and nectar. Some are chemists, who let a drop of formic acid fall +from the end of their stings to preserve the honey, and some are capsule +makers, who seal down the cells when the honey is ripe. Besides all +these are the sweepers, who spend their time sweeping the tiny streets, +and the bearers, who remove the corpses, and the amazons of the guard, +who watch by the threshold night and day, and seem to require some kind +of a countersign of all who pass, just like real soldiers. Some are +artists, too, as far as knowing colours is concerned. They get red +pollen from the mignonette, and yellow pollen from the lilies, and they +never mix them. They always store them in separate cells in the +storerooms." + +"Whew!" whistled Phil, beginning to fan himself with his hat as Joyce +paused. "Anything more? It takes a girl with a fad to deluge a fellow +with facts." + +"Tell him about the drones," said Lloyd, meaningly. She resented being +laughed at. "_They_ don't like the school of the bees eithah. If +Aristotle and Cato and Pliny and those old philosophahs could spend time +studying them, _you_ needn't tuh'n up yoah nose at them!" + +Lloyd turned away indignantly, but she looked so pretty with her eyes +flashing, and the colour coming up in her cheeks, that Phil was tempted +to keep on teasing them about their fad, as he called it. His antagonism +to it was all assumed at first, but he began to feel a real resentment +as the days wore on. It interfered too often with his plans. Several +times he had walked up to the ranch to find Mr. Ellestad there ahead of +him with a new book on bee culture, or an interesting account of some +new experiment, or some ride was spoiled because, when he called, the +girls had gone to Shaw's ranch to spend the afternoon. + +Joyce and Lloyd purposely pointed all their morals, and illustrated all +their remarks whenever they could, by items learned at the School of the +Bees, until Phil groaned aloud whenever the little honey-makers were +mentioned. + +"If you had been Shapur you nevah would have followed that bee to the +Rose Garden of Omah, would you?" asked Lloyd, one day when they had +been discussing the legend of Camelback. + +"No," answered Phil, "nothing could tempt me to follow one of those +irritating little creatures." + +"Not even to reach the City of yoah Desiah?" + +"My City of Desire would have been right in that oasis, probably, if I +had been Shapur. The story said, 'Water there was for him to drink, and +the fruit of the date-palm.' He had everything to make him comfortable, +so what was the use of going around with an ambition like a burning +simoom in his breast." + +"I don't believe that you have a bit of ambition," said Lloyd, in a +disapproving tone that nettled Phil. "Have you?" + +"I can't say that it keeps me awake of nights," laughed Phil. "And I +can't see that anybody is any happier or more comfortable for being all +torn up over some impossible thing he is for ever reaching after, and +never can get hold of." + +"Neahly everybody I know is like Shapur," said Lloyd, musingly. "Joyce +is wild to be an artist, and Betty to write books, and Holland to go +into the navy, and Jack to be at the head of the mines. Papa has +promised him a position in the mine office as soon as he learns Spanish, +and he is pegging away at it every spare minute. He says Jack will make +a splendid man, for it is his great ambition to be just like his fathah, +who was so steady-going and reliable and honahable in all he undahtook, +that he had the respect of everybody. Papa says Jack will make just the +kind of man that is needed out heah to build up this new country, and he +expects great things of him some day. He says that a boy who is so +faithful in small things is bound to be faithful to great ones of public +trust." + +"What is your City of Desire?" asked Phil, who did not relish the turn +the conversation had taken. He liked Jack, but he didn't want Lloyd to +sing his praises so enthusiastically. + +"Oh, I'm only a girl without any especial talent," answered Lloyd, "so I +can't expect to amount to as much as Joyce and Betty. But I want to live +up to our club motto, and to leave a Road of the Loving Heart behind me +in everybody's memory, and to be just as much like mothah and my +beautiful Grandmothah Amanthis as I can. A home-makah, grandfathah says, +is moah needed in the world than an artist or an authah. He consoles me +that way sometimes, when I feel bad because I can't do the things I'd +like to. But it is about as hard to live up to his ideal of a +home-makah, as to reach any othah City of Desiah. He expects so much of +me." + +"But what would your ambition be if you were a boy?" asked Phil, lazily +leaning back in the hammock to watch her. + +"If I were a boy," she repeated. A light leaped up into her face, and +unconsciously her head took its high, princesslike pose. "If I were a +boy, and could go out into the world and do all sawts of fine things, I +wouldn't be content to sit down beside the well and the palm-tree. I'd +want something to do that was hard and brave, and that would try my +mettle. I'd want to fight my way through all sawts of dangahs and +difficulties. I couldn't beah to be nothing but a drone, and not have +any paht in the world's hive-making and honey-making." + +"Look here," said Phil, his face flushing, "you girls are associating +with bees entirely too much. You're learning to sting." + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +THE NEW BOARDER AT LEE'S RANCH + + +Mary could hardly wait to tell the news to Phil and Mrs. Lee. She ran +nearly all the way from the Wigwam to the ranch, her hat in her hand, +and the lid of her lunch-basket flapping. + +Long before she came within calling distance, she saw Phil mount his +horse out by the pasture bars, and ride slowly along the driveway which +led past the tents to the public road. With the hope of intercepting +him, she dashed on still more wildly, but her shoe-strings tripped her, +and she was obliged to stop to tie them. Glancing up as she jerked them +into hard knots, she breathed a sigh of relief, for he had drawn rein to +speak to Mr. Ellestad and the new boarder, who were sitting in the sun +near the bamboo-arbour. Then, just as he was about to start on again, +Mrs. Lee came singing out to the tents with an armful of clean towels, +and he called to her some question, which brought her, laughing, to join +the group. + +Thankful for these two delays, Mary went dashing on toward them so +breathlessly that Phil gave a whistle of surprise as she turned in at +the ranch. + +"What's the matter, Mary?" he called. "Indians after you again?" + +"No," she panted, throwing herself down on the dry Bermuda grass, and +wiping her flushed face on her sleeve. "I'm on my way to school. I just +stopped by with a message, and I thought you'd like to hear the news." + +"Well, that depends," began Phil, teasingly. "We hear so little out on +this lonely desert, that our systems may not be able to stand the shock +of anything exciting. If it's good news, maybe we can bear it, if you +break it to us gently. If it's bad, you'd better not run any risks. +'Where ignorance is bliss, 'tis folly to be wise,' you know." + +"Oh, come now, Tremont, that's too bad," laughed Mr. Ellestad. "Don't +head her off that way when she's in such a hurry to tell it." + +"Then go on, Mary," said Phil, gravely. "Mr. Ellestad's curiosity is +greater than his caution, and Mr. Armond hasn't been in the desert long +enough to be affected by its dearth of news, so anything sudden can't +hurt him. Go on." + +Mary stole a glance at the new boarder. The long, slender fingers, +smoothing his closely clipped, pointed beard, hid the half-smile that +lurked around his mouth. He was leaning back in his camp-chair, +apparently so little interested in his surroundings, that Mary felt that +his presence need not be taken into account any more than the +bamboo-arbour's. + +"Well," she said, as if announcing something of national importance, +"_Joyce has an order_." + +"An order," repeated Phil, "what under the canopy is that? Is it +catching?" + +"Don't pay any attention to him, Mary," Mr. Ellestad hastened to say, +seeing a little distressed pucker between her eyes. "Phil is a trifle +slow to understand, but he wants to hear just as much as we do." + +"Well, it's an order to paint some cards," explained Mary, speaking very +slowly and distinctly in her effort to make the matter clear to him. +"You know the Links, back in Plainsville, Mrs. Lee. You've heard me talk +about Grace Link ever so many times. Her cousin Cecelia is to be married +soon, and her bridesmaids are all to be girls that she studied music +with at the Boston Conservatory. So her Aunt Sue, that's Mrs. Link, is +going to give her a bridal musicale. It's to be the finest entertainment +that ever was in Plainsville, and they want Joyce to decorate the +souvenir programmes. Once she painted some place cards for a Valentine +dinner that Mrs. Link gave. She did that for nothing, but Mrs. Link has +sent her ten dollars in advance for making only thirty programmes. +That's thirty cents apiece. + +"They're to have Cupids and garlands of roses and strings of hearts on +'em, no two alike, and bars of music from the wedding-marches and bridal +chorus. Joyce is the happiest thing! She's nearly wild over it, she's so +pleased. She's going to buy a hive of bees with the money." + +Phil groaned, but Mary paid no attention to the interruption. + +"The letter and the package of blank cards for the programmes came this +morning while she was sweeping, and she just left the dirt and the broom +right in the middle of the floor, and sat down on the door-step and +began sketching little designs on the back of the envelope, as they +popped into her head. Lloyd and Jack and mamma are going to do all the +cooking and housework and everything, so Joyce can spend all her time on +the cards. They want them right away. Isn't that splendid?" + +"Whoop-la!" exclaimed Phil, as Mary stopped, out of breath. "Fortune has +at last changed in your favour. I'll ride straight up to the Wigwam to +congratulate her." + +"Oh, I almost forgot what I stopped by for," exclaimed Mary. "Lloyd told +me to tell you that you needn't come to-day to take her riding, for +she'll be too busy helping Joyce to go." + +Phil scowled. "The turn in _my_ fortune isn't so favourable, it seems. +Well, if I'm not wanted at the Wigwam I'll go to town to-day. There's +always something doing in Phoenix. Climb up behind me, Mary, and I'll +give you a lift as far as the schoolhouse." + +As they galloped gaily down the road, Mrs. Lee looked after them with a +troubled expression in her eyes. "There's too much doing in Phoenix for +a nice boy like that," she thought. "I wish he wouldn't go so often. I +must tell him the experience some of my other boys have had when they +went in with idle hands and full purses like his." + +Her boarders were always her boys to Mrs. Lee, and she watched over them +with motherly interest, not only nursing them in illness and cheering +them in homesickness, but many a time whispering a warning against the +temptations which beset all exiles from home who have nothing to do but +kill time. Now with the hope of interesting the new boarder in +something beside himself, she dropped down into the rustic seat near +him, hanging the towels over the arm of it while she talked. + +"You must make the acquaintance of the Wares, Mr. Armond," she began. +"They stayed at the ranch three weeks, and this little Mary and her +brothers kept things humming, the whole time." + +"They'd give me nervous prostration in half a day, if they're all like +that little chatterbox," he answered, listlessly. + +"Not Joyce," interrupted Mr. Ellestad. "She's the most interesting child +of her age I ever knew, and being an artist yourself you couldn't fail +to be interested in her unbounded ambition. She really has talent, I +think. For a girl of fifteen her clever little water-colours and her +pen-and-ink work show unusual promise." + +"Then I'm sorry for her," said Mr. Armond. "If she has ambition and +thinks she has talent, life will be twice as hard for her, always a +struggle, always an unsatisfied groping after something she can never +reach." + +"But I believe that she will reach what she wants, some day," was the +reply. "She has youth and health and unbounded hope. The other day I +quoted an old Norwegian proverb, '_He waits not long who waits for a +feast_.' She wrote it on the kitchen door, saying, 'I'll have to wait +till I can earn enough money to buy one hive of bees, and then I'll wait +for that hive to swarm and make another, and for the two to grow into a +hundred, and that into two hundred maybe, before I'll have enough to go +away and study. It'll be years and years before I reach the mark I've +set for myself, but when I'm really an artist, doing the things I've +dreamed of doing, that will be a feast worth any amount of waiting.' Now +in less than a week she has found her way to the first step, the first +hive of bees, and I'm truly glad for her." + +"But the happier such beginnings, the more tragic the end, oftentimes," +Mr. Armond answered. "I've known such cases,--scores of them, when I was +an art student myself in Paris. Girls and young fellows who thought they +were budding geniuses. Who left home and country and everything else for +art's sake. They lived in garrets, and slaved and struggled and starved +on for years, only to find in the end that they were not geniuses, only +to face failure. I never encourage beginners any more. For what is more +cruel than to say to some hungry soul, 'Go on, wait, you'll reach the +feast, your longing shall be satisfied,' when you know full well that +in only one case in ten thousand, perhaps, can there be a feast for one +of them. That when they stretch out their hands for bread there will be +only a stone." + +"But you reached it yourself, Armond, you know you did," answered Mr. +Ellestad, who had known the new boarder well in his younger days. "To +have had pictures hung in the Salon and Academy, to be recognized as a +success in both hemispheres, isn't that enough of a feast to satisfy +most men?" + +The face turned to him in reply wore the look of one who has fought the +bitterest of fights and fallen vanquished. + +"No. To have a sweet snatched away just as it is placed to one's lips is +worse than never to have tasted it. What good does it do me now? Look at +me, a hopeless invalid, doomed to a year or two of unendurable idleness. +How much easier it would be for me now to fold my hands and wait, if I +had no baffled ambitions to torment me hourly, no higher desires in life +than Chris there." + +He pointed to the swarthy Mexican, digging a ditch across the alfalfa +pasture. "No," he repeated. "I'd never encourage any one, now, to start +on such an unsatisfactory quest." + +"I'm sorry," said Mr. Ellestad. "When I heard that you were coming, I +hoped that you would take an interest in Joyce Ware. You could be the +greatest inspiration and help to her, if you only would." + +"There she is now," exclaimed Mrs. Lee, who sat facing the road. "It +does me good to see any one swing along as she does, with so much energy +and purpose in every movement." + +Mr. Armond turned his head slightly for a view of the girlish figure +moving rapidly toward them. + +"Don't tell her that I am an artist, Ellestad," he said, hurriedly, as +she drew near, "or that I've ever lived in the Latin Quarter or--or +anything like that. I know how schoolgirls gush over such things, and +I'm in no mood for callow enthusiasms." + +Joyce's errand was to borrow some music, the wedding-marches, if Mrs. +Lee had them, from Lohengrin and Tannhauser. She remembered seeing +several old music-books on the organ in the adobe parlour, and she +thought maybe the selections she wanted might be in them. + +Mr. Armond sat listening to the conversation with as little interest, +apparently, as he had done to Mary's. After acknowledging his +introduction to Joyce by a grave bow, he leaned back in his chair, and +seemed to withdraw himself from notice. + +At first glance Joyce had been a trifle embarrassed by the presence of +this distinguished-looking stranger. Something about him--the cut of +the short, pointed beard, the nervous movement of his long, sensitive +fingers, the eyes that seemed to see so much and so deeply in their +brief glances, recalled some memory, vague and disturbing. She tried to +remember where it was she had seen some man who looked like this one. + +"Is it very necessary that you should have the wedding-marches?" asked +Mrs. Lee, coming back from a fruitless search in the parlour. "Wouldn't +a few bars from any other music do just as well? So long as you have +some notes, I should think any other march would carry out the idea just +as well." + +"No," said Joyce. "All the guests will be musicians. They'd see at a +glance if it wasn't appropriate, and ordinary music would not mean +anything in such a place." + +"I know where you can get what you want," said Mrs. Lee, "but you'd have +to go to Phoenix for it. I have a friend there who is a music-teacher +and an organist. I'll give you a note to her, if you care enough to go +six miles." + +"Oh, thank you, Mrs. Lee," cried Joyce. "I'll be glad to take it, if it +isn't too much trouble for you to write it. I'd go twenty miles rather +than not have the right notes on the programmes." + +Mr. Armond darted a quick glance at her through half-closed eyelids. +Evidently she was more in earnest than he had supposed. + +As Mrs. Lee went to the house to write the note, Mr. Ellestad said, +smilingly, "Mary told us that this piece of good fortune will bring you +your first hive of bees, give you your first step toward the City of +your Desire. It seems appropriate that this bridal musicale should give +you your hives. Did you ever hear that the bow of the Hindu love-god is +supposed to be strung with wild bees?" + +"No," she answered, slowly, "but it's a pretty idea, isn't it?" Then her +face lighted up so brightly that Mr. Armond looked at her with awakening +interest. + +"Oh, I'm so glad you told me that! It suggests such a pretty design. +See! I can make one card like this." Taking a pencil from her hair, +where she had thrust it when she started on her errand, and catching up +the old music-book Mrs. Lee had brought out, she began sketching rapidly +on a fly-leaf. + +"I'll have a little Cupid in this corner, his bow strung with tiny bees, +shooting across this staff of music, suspended from two hearts. And +instead of notes I'll make bees, flying up and down between the lines. +Won't that be fine?" + +Mr. Armond nodded favourably when the sketch was passed to him. "Very +good," he said, looking at it critically. Slipping a pencil from his +pocket, he held it an instant over the little fat Cupid, as if to make +some correction or suggestion, but apparently changing his mind, he +passed the sketch back to Joyce without a word. + +Again she was baffled by that vague half-memory. The gesture with which +he had taken the pencil from his pocket and replaced it seemed familiar. +The critical turn of his head, as he looked at the sketch, was certainly +like some one's she knew. She liked him in spite of his indifference. +Something in his refined, melancholy face made her feel sorry for him; +sorrier than she had been for any of the other people at the ranch. He +looked white and ill, and the spells of coughing that seized him now and +then seemed to leave him exhausted. + +When Mrs. Lee came out with the note, Joyce rose to go. She had learned +in the short conversation with Mr. Ellestad that this stranger was an +old acquaintance of his, so she said, hospitably, "We are your nearest +neighbours, Mr. Armond. I know from experience how monotonous the desert +is till one gets used to it. Whenever you feel in need of a change +we'll be glad to see you at the Wigwam. It's always lively there, now." + +He thanked her gravely, and Mr. Ellestad added, with a laugh, "He is +just at the point now where Shapur was when the caravan went on without +him. He doesn't think that these arid sands can hold anything worth +while." + +"Oh, I know!" exclaimed Joyce, with an understanding note in her voice. +"It's dreadful until you follow the bee, and find your Omar. You must +tell him about it, Mr. Ellestad." + +Then she hurried away. Half an hour later she galloped by on the pony, +toward Phoenix. Lloyd was riding beside her. As they passed the ranch +she waved a greeting with the note which Mrs. Lee had given her. + +"What do you think of her work?" asked Mr. Ellestad of his friend. + +"One couldn't judge from a crude outline like that," was the answer. +"She's so young that it is bound to be amateurish. Still she certainly +shows originality, and she has a capacity for hard work. Her willingness +to go all the way to Phoenix for a few bars of music shows that she has +the right stuff in her. But I wouldn't encourage her if I were in your +place." + +When Mr. Ellestad called at the Wigwam that afternoon, he found Joyce +hard at work. A row of finished programmes was already stretched out on +the table before her. Through the door that opened into the kitchen, he +could see Lloyd at the ironing-board. Her face was flushed, and there +was an anxious little frown between her eyes, because the wrinkles +wouldn't come out of the sheets, and the hot irons had scorched two +towels in succession. But she rubbed away with dogged persistence, +determined to finish all that was left in the basket, despite Joyce's +pleading that she should stop. + +"Those things can wait till the last of the week just as well as not," +she insisted. But Lloyd was unyielding. + +"No, suh," she declared. "I nevah had a chance to i'on even a +pocket-handkerchief befoah, and I'm bound I'll do it, now I've begun." + +There was a blister on one pink little palm, and a long red burn on the +back of her hand, but she kept cheerfully on until the basket was empty. + +"Tell me about Mr. Armond," said Joyce, as she worked. "He reminds me of +some one I've seen. I've been trying all afternoon to think. You've +known him a long time, haven't you?" + +"Yes, I met him abroad when he was a mere boy," answered Mr. Ellestad, +wishing that he had not been asked to say nothing about his friend's +career as an artist. The tale of his experiences and successes would +have been of absorbing interest to Joyce. + +"Armond doesn't like to have his past discussed," he said, after a +pause. "He made a brilliant success of it until his health failed +several years ago. Since then he has grown so morose that he is not like +the same creature. He has lost faith in everything. I tell him that if +he would rouse himself to take some interest in people and things about +him,--if he'd even read, and get his mind off of himself, then he'd quit +cursing the day he was born, and pick up a little appetite. Then he +would live longer. If he were at some sanitarium they'd make him eat; +but here he won't go to the table half the time. Jo fixes up all sorts +of tempting extras for him, but he just looks at them, and shoves them +aside without tasting. The only thing I have heard him express a wish +for since he has been at the ranch is quail." + +"Oh, we're going to have some for supper to-night," cried Joyce. "Jack +shot seven yesterday. He gets some nearly every day. I'll send Mr. +Armond one if you think he'd like it. That is, if they turn out all +right. My cooking isn't always a success, especially when my mind is on +something like this work." + +[Illustration: "SHE LEANED OVER TO OFFER HIM THE LITTLE BASKET"] + +Everybody in the family helped to get supper that night, even Norman, so +that Joyce might work on undisturbed till the last moment. The only part +that she took in the preparations was to superintend the cooking of the +quail, and to call out directions to the others, as she painted garlands +of roses and sprays of orange-blossoms on one programme after another. + +"Spread one of the white fringed napkins out in the little brown covered +basket, Mary, please, and put in a knife and fork. And Lloyd, I wish +you'd set a saucer on the stove hearth where it'll get almost red-hot. +Jack, if you'll have the pony ready at the door I'll fly down to Mr. +Armond with a quail the minute they are done, so that he'll get it +piping hot. No, I'll take it myself, thank you. You boys are as hungry +as bears, and I've painted so hard all afternoon that I haven't a bit of +appetite. I'll feel more like eating if I have the ride first." + +The ranch supper-bell was ringing as she started down the road on a +gallop, holding the basket carefully in one hand, and guiding the pony +with the other. Everybody had gone in to the dining-room but Mr. Armond. +Wrapped in a steamer-rug and overcoat, he sat just outside the door of +his tent, his hat pulled down over his eyes. Turning from the driveway +she rode directly across the lawn toward him. She was bareheaded, and +her face was glowing, not only from the rapid ride, but the kindly +impulse that prompted her coming. + +He looked up in astonishment as she leaned over to offer him the little +basket. + +"I've brought you a quail, Mr. Armond," she said, breathlessly. "You +must eat it quick, while it's blazing hot, and eat it every bit but the +bones, for it was cooked on purpose for you. It'll do you good." + +Without an instant's pause she started off again, but he called her. +"Wait a moment, child. I haven't thanked you. Ellestad said you were +working at your programmes like a Trojan, and wouldn't stop long enough +to draw a full breath. You surely haven't finished them." + +"No, it will take nearly two days longer," she said, gathering up the +reins again. + +"And you stopped in the middle of it to do this for me!" he exclaimed. +"I certainly appreciate your taking so much time and trouble for me--an +entire stranger." + +"Oh, no! You're not a stranger," she protested. "You're Mr. Ellestad's +friend." + +"Then may I ask one more favour at your hands? I'd like to see your +programmes when they're finished,--before you send them away. There is +so little to interest one out here," he continued, apologetically, "that +if you don't mind humouring an invalid's whims----" + +"Oh, I'd be glad to," cried Joyce, flushing. "I'll bring them down just +as soon as they're done. That is," she added, with a mischievous smile +dimpling her face, which made her seem even younger than she was, "if +you'll be good, and eat every bit of the quail." + +"I'll promise," he replied, an answering smile lighting his face for an +instant. An easy promise to keep, he thought, as he lifted the lid, and +took out the hot covered dish. The quail on the delicately browned toast +was the most tempting thing he had seen in weeks. + +"What a kind little soul she is," he said to himself, as he tasted the +first appetizing morsel, "fairly brimming over with consideration for +other people. As Ellestad says, I could do a lot for her, if it seemed +the right thing to encourage her." + +Whether it was the quail, which he ate slowly, enjoying it to the last +mouthful, or whether it was the remembrance of a pair of honest, +friendly eyes, beaming down on him with neighbourly good-will and +sympathy, he could not tell, but as he went into his tent afterward and +lighted the lamp, somehow the desert seemed a little less lonely, the +outlook a trifle less hopeless. + + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +PHIL HAS A FINGER IN THE PIE + + +PHIL went up to the Wigwam early next morning. Breakfast was just over, +and Joyce had begun painting again. He paused an instant at the front +door to watch her brown head bending over the table, and the quick +motion of her deft fingers. She was so absorbed in her task that she did +not look up, so after a moment he went on around the house to the +kitchen. + +Mrs. Ware was lifting the dish-pan from its nail to its place on the +table, and Lloyd was standing beside her, enveloped in a huge apron, +holding a towel in her hands, ready to help. Norman, beside a chair on +which a clean napkin had been spread, was filling the salt-cellars. +Jack, having carried water to the tents, was busy chopping wood. + +"Good mawning!" called Lloyd, waving her towel as Phil appeared in the +door. Mrs. Ware turned with such a cordial smile of welcome, that he +took it as an invitation to come in, and hung his hat on the post of a +chair. + +"I want to have a finger in this pie," he announced. "I was told to stay +at home yesterday, but I don't intend to be snubbed to-day. + +"Wait, Aunt Emily, that kettle is too heavy for you!" + +He had called her Aunt Emily since the first time he had heard Lloyd do +it. "You don't care, do you?" he had asked. "It makes a fellow feel so +forlorn and familyless when he has to mister and madam everybody." She +was sewing a button on his coat for him at the time he asked her, and +she gave such a pleased assent that he stooped to leave a light kiss on +the smooth forehead where gray hair was beginning to mingle with the +brown. + +Now he took the kettle from her before she could object, and began +pouring the boiling water into the pan. "Let me do this," he insisted. +"I haven't had a hand in anything of the sort since I was a little +shaver. It makes me think of a time when the servants were all away, and +Stuart and I helped Aunt Patricia. She paid us in peppermint sticks and +cinnamon drops." + +"You'll get no candy here," she answered, laughing. "You might as well +go on if that's what you expect." But there was no resisting the +coaxing ways of this big handsome boy, who towered above her, and who +took possession in such a masterful way of her apron and dish-mop. His +coat and cuffs were off the next instant, and he began clattering the +china and silverware vigorously through the hot soap-suds. + +Mrs. Ware, taking a big yellow bowl in her lap, sat down to pick over +some dried beans, and to enjoy the lively conversation which kept pace +with the rattle of the dishes. It was interrupted presently by a +complaint from Lloyd. + +"Aunt Emily, he doesn't wash 'em clean! He's left egg all ovah this +spoon. That's the second time I've had to throw it back into the watah." + +"Aunt Emily, it isn't so," mocked Phil, in a high falsetto voice, +imitating her accent. "It's bettah than she could do huhself. She's no +great shakes of a housekeepah." + +"I'll show you," retorted Lloyd, throwing the spoon back into the pan +with a splash. "I'm going to make a pie foh dinnah to-day, and you won't +get any." + +"Then probably I'll be the only one who escapes alive to tell the tale. +Aunt Emily, please invite me to dinner," he begged, "and mayn't I stay +out here, and watch her make it?" + +"Of co'se I can't help it if she chooses to ask you to dinnah," said +Lloyd, loftily, when he had received his invitation, "but I most +certainly won't have you standing around in my way, criticizing me when +I begin to cook. You can fill the wood-box and brush up the crumbs and +hang these towels out on the line, if you want to, then you may go in +and watch Joyce paint." + +"Oh, thank you!" answered Phil. "_Such_ condescension! _Such_ +privileges! Your Royal Highness, I humbly make my bow!" + +He bent low in a burlesque obeisance that a star actor might have +envied, and, throwing up a saucer and catching it deftly, began to sing: + + "The Queen of Hearts she made some tarts, + Upon a summer day. + But none could look--that selfish cook + Drove every one away." + +It was all the most idle nonsense, and yet, as they worked together in a +playful half-quarrel, Lloyd liked him better than she had at any time +before. He reminded her of Rob Moore. He was big like Rob, tall and +broad-shouldered, but much handsomer. Rob had teased her since +babyhood, and, when Phil began his banter in the same blunt, big-brother +fashion, it made her feel as if she had known him always. And yet he was +more like Malcolm than Rob, in some respects, she thought later. The +courteous way he sprang to pick up her handkerchief, the quick turn he +gave to some little remark, which made it a graceful compliment, his +gentlemanly consideration for Mrs. Ware--all that was like Malcolm. + +Phil would not be driven out of the kitchen until he had exacted a +promise from Mrs. Ware that he might come the next day, and make the +dessert for the morrow's dinner, vowing that, if it were not heels over +head better than Lloyd's, he would treat everybody at the Wigwam and on +the ranch to a picnic at Hole-in-the-rock. + +"Prop the door open, please," called Joyce, as he went into the +sitting-room from the kitchen. "I need some of that heat in here. It's +chilly this morning when one sits still." + +So Lloyd, moving back and forth at her pastry-making, could see their +heads bending over the table, and hear snatches of an animated +discussion about a design he proposed for her to put on one of the +programmes. + +"Put a line from 'Call me thine own' on this one," he said, "and have a +couple of turtle-doves perched up on the clef, cooing at each other, and +make little hearts for the notes." + +"How brilliant!" cried Joyce. "Phil, you're a genius. Do think up some +more, for I'm nearly at my wits' end, trying to get thirty different +designs." + +"Don't make them all so fine," he suggested. "Some of those people will +get it into their heads that matrimony is all roses." He lifted his +voice a little, so that Lloyd could not fail to hear. She was standing +before the moulding-board now, her sleeves tucked up, and a look of +intense seriousness on her face as she sifted flour, as if pie-making +were the most important business in the universe. + +"Make the Queen of Hearts with a rolling-pin in her hand and a scowl on +her face, as she will look after the ceremony, when she takes it into +her head to make some tarts. Put a bar of 'Come, ye disconsolate,' with +a row of tiny pies for the notes, and the old king doubled up at the end +of it, with the knave running for a doctor." + +"You horrid thing!" called Lloyd, wrathfully, from the kitchen. "You +sha'n't have a bite of these pies now." + +"Nothing personal, I assure you," called Phil, laughing. "I'm only +helping the artist." But Joyce said, in a low tone, "It _is_ a little +personal, because she used to be called the Queen of Hearts so much. Did +you ever see her picture taken in that character, when she was dressed +in that costume for a Valentine party? It was years ago. Miss Marks made +some coloured photographs of her. You'll find one in that portfolio +somewhere, if you'll take the trouble to look through it. She's had so +many different nicknames," continued Joyce. Norman was hammering on +something in the kitchen now, so there was no need for her to lower her +voice. + +"She is 'The Little Colonel' to half the Valley, and I suppose always +will be to her grandfather's friends. Then when she started to school, +about the time that picture was taken, she was such a popular little +thing that one of her teachers began calling her Queen of Hearts. Both +boys and girls used to fuss for the right to stand beside her in +recitations, and march next her at calisthenics, and she was sure to be +called first when they chose sides for their games at recess. + +"Then, after she was in that play with her dog Hero, that Mary told you +about, the girls at boarding-school began calling her the Princess +Winsome, and then just Princess. Malcolm McIntyre, who took the part of +the knight who rescued her, never calls her anything but that now. There +she is, as she looked in the play when she sang the dove song." + +Joyce pointed with her brush-handle to another photograph in the pile. +It was the same picture that Mary had showed him, the beautiful little +medallion of the Princess Winsome, holding the dove to her breast as she +sang, "Flutter and fly." The same picture which had swayed on the +pendulum in Roney's lonely cabin, repeating, with every tick of the +clock, "For love--will find--a way!" + +Phil put it beside the other photograph, and studied them both intently +as Joyce went on. + +"Then the other day, when her father was here, I noticed that he had a +new name for her. He called her that several times, and when he went +away, he said it in a tone that seemed to mean so much, 'Good-bye, my +little _Hildegarde_!'" + +Phil looked from the pictures on the table to the original, standing in +the kitchen wielding a rolling-pin under Mrs. Ware's direction. The +morning sun, streaming through the window, was making a halo of her +hair. Somehow he found this last view the most pleasing. He said +nothing, however, only thrummed idly on the table, and hummed an old +song that had been running through his head all morning. + +"What's that you're humming?" asked Joyce, when she had worked on in +silence several minutes. + +Phil came to himself with a start. "I'm sure I don't know," he laughed. +"I wasn't conscious that I was making even an attempt to sing." + +"It went this way," said Joyce, whistling the refrain, softly. "It's so +sweet." + +"Oh, that," said Phil, recognizing the air. "That's a song that Elsie's +old English nurse used to sing her to sleep with. + + "'Maid Elsie roams by lane and lea, + Her heart beats low and sad.' + +She liked it because it had her name in it, and I liked it because of +the jingle of the chorus. It always seemed full of bells to me." He +hummed it lightly: + + "'Kling, lang ling, + She seems to hear her bride-bells ring, + Her bonny bride-bells ring.' + +It must have been these bridal musicale programmes that brought it up to +me, for I haven't thought of it in years." + +"And that suggests something to me," answered Joyce. "I haven't used +any wedding-bells on these programmes. Now, let me see. How can I put +them on?" She sat studying one of the empty cards intently. + +"Here! This way!" cried Phil. "I can't draw it as it ought to be, but I +can see in my mind's eye what you want. Put a Cupid up in each top +corner, with a bunch of five narrow ribbons, strung across from one to +the other in narrow, wavy lines, and hang the little bells on them for +notes. Then the ends of the ribbons can trail down the sides of the +programmes sort of fluttery and graceful. Pshaw! I can't make it look +like anything, but I can see exactly how it ought to look." + +He scribbled his pencil across the lines he had attempted to draw, and +started to tear the paper in disgust, when she caught it from him. + +"I know just what you mean," she cried. "And Phil Tremont, you _are_ a +genius. This will be the best design in the whole lot." She was +outlining it quickly as she spoke. "You ought to be a designer. You'd +make your fortune at it, for originality is what counts. Why don't you +study it?" + +"I did have it in mind for a week or so," answered Phil, "but I wanted +most of all to be an architect, or something of the sort. Father wanted +me to study medicine, and grandfather thought I'd do better at civil +engineering. But I couldn't settle down to anything. I suppose the truth +of the matter was I was thinking too much about the good times I was +having, and didn't want to buckle down to anything that meant hard +digging. So last year father said I wasn't getting any kind of +discipline, and that I had to go to a military school for it. That there +I would at least learn punctuality and order, and that military training +would fit me to be a good citizen just as much as to be a good soldier." + +"What does he think about it now?" answered Joyce. "I beg your pardon," +she added, hastily. "I had no right to ask such a personal question." + +"That's all right," answered Phil. "I don't care a rap if you do talk +about it. It's worried me a good deal thinking how cut up the old pater +will feel when he finds out about it. He thought he'd left me in such +good hands, shut up where I couldn't get out into any trouble, and I +hated to write that they'd fired me almost as soon as his back was +turned. If I could have talked to him, and explained both sides of it, +how unfair the Major was, and all that, and how we were just out for a +lark, with the best intentions in the world, I could have soon +convinced him that I meant all right, and he wouldn't have minded so +much. But I never was any good at letter-writing, so I kept putting it +off the first two weeks I was here. I wrote last week, but it takes a +month to send a letter and get an answer, so it'll be some time yet +before I hear from him. In the meantime, I'm taking life easy, and +worrying as little as possible." + +Joyce made no reply when he paused, only bent her head a little lower +over her work; but Phil, unusually sensitive to mental influences, felt +her disapprobation as keenly as if she had spoken. The silence began to +grow uncomfortable, and finally he asked, lightly, toying with a +paper-knife while he spoke, "Well, what do you think of the situation?" + +"Do you want to know honestly?" asked Joyce, her head bending still +lower over her work. + +"Yes, honestly." + +Her face grew red, but looking up her clear gray eyes met his +unflinchingly. "Well, I think you're the very brightest boy that I ever +knew, anywhere, and that it would be a very easy thing for you to make +your mark in the world in any way you pleased, if you would only make up +your mind to do it. But it's lazy of you to loaf around all winter +doing nothing, not even studying by yourself, and it's selfish to +disappoint your father when he is so ambitious for you, and it's--yes, +it's _wicked_ for you to waste opportunities that some boys would almost +give their eyes for. There!" + +"Whew!" whistled Phil, getting up to pace the floor, with his hands in +his pockets. "That's the worst roast I _ever_ got." + +"Well, you asked for it," said Joyce. "You said for me to tell you +honestly what I thought." + +"What would you have me to do?" asked Phil, impatiently, anxious to +justify himself. "A fellow with any spirit couldn't get down and beg to +be taken back to school, when he knew all the time that he was only +partly in the wrong, and that it was unjust and arbitrary of the +officers to require what they did." + +"That isn't the only school in the country," said Joyce, quietly, "and +for a fellow six feet tall, and seventeen years old, a regular athlete +in appearance, to wait for somebody to lead him back to his books does +seem a little ridiculous, doesn't it?" + +"Confound it!" he began, angrily, then stopped, for Joyce was smiling up +into his face with a friendliness he could not resist, and there was +more than censure in her eyes. There was sincere admiration for the +handsome boy whom she found so entertaining and companionable. + +"Now don't get uppity," she laughed. "I'm only saying to you what Elsie +would say if she were here." + +Phil shrugged his shoulders. "Not much!" he exclaimed. "You don't know +Elsie. She thinks her big brother is perfection. She has always stood up +for me in the face of everything. Daddy never failed to let me off easy +when she patched up the peace between us. _She_ wouldn't rake me over +the coals the way you do." + +Joyce liked the expression that crossed his face as he spoke of Elsie, +and the gentler tone in which he said Daddy. + +"All the more reason, then," she answered, "that somebody else should do +the raking. I hope I haven't been officious. It's only what I would say +to Jack under the same circumstances. I'm so used to preaching to the +boys that I couldn't help sailing in when you gave me leave. I won't do +it any more, though. See! Here is the design you suggested. I've +finished it." + +Mollified by her tone and her evident eagerness to leave the subject, he +dropped into the chair beside her again, and sat talking until Lloyd +called them both out to admire her pies. There were two of them on the +table, hot from the oven, so crisp and delicately browned, that Lloyd +danced around them, clicking a couple of spoons in each hand like +castanets, and calling Mrs. Ware to witness that she had made them +entirely by herself. + +"Don't they look delicious?" she cried. "Did you evah see moah tempting +looking pies in all yoah life? I wish grandfathah could have a slice of +that beautiful custa'd with the meringue on top. He'd think Mom Beck +made it, and he'd nevah believe, unless he saw it with his own eyes, +that I could make such darling cross-bahs as are on that cherry taht." + +"I wish you'd listen!" cried Phil. "Don't you know that proverb about +letting another man praise thee, and not thine own mouth?" + +"I'm not praising _me_," retorted Lloyd. "I'm just praising my pies, and +if they're good, and I know they're good, why shouldn't I say so? +They're the first I evah made, and I think I have a right to be proud of +their turning out so well. Of co'se they wouldn't have been this nice if +Aunt Emily hadn't showed me what to do." + +"Let's sample them now," proposed Jack, who had been called in from the +wood-pile to pay his respects to the pastry. + +Lloyd threw herself between the table and Jack with a little scream of +remonstrance, as he advanced threateningly with a knife. + +"I believe Lloyd is prouder of making those old pies than she was of +shooting the duck. Confess, now, aren't you?" he insisted. + +"Yes, I am," she answered, emphatically. + +"You had your picture taken with a duck," suggested Phil. "Suppose you +have one now with the pies to add to your collection. Come on and get +your camera, and I'll take a companion piece to the hunting-picture. +We'll call this the 'Queen of Tarts.' Stand out back of the tent, and +hold the custard pie in one hand, and the cherry tart in the other." + +With the dimples deepening in her cheeks as the whole family gathered +around to watch the performance, Lloyd took her position out-of-doors, +with the white tent for a background. Holding her hands stiffly out in +front of her, she stood like a statue, while Jack and Joyce each brought +out a pie, and balanced them in the middle of her little pink, upturned +palms. + +"I want to take two shots," said Phil, waiting for them to step out of +range. "There are several blank films left on this roll. Now," he +ordered, when the shutter clicked after the first exposure, "hold still, +we'll try another. Suppose you put the plates up on the tips of your +fingers, the way hotel waiters do. They carry things that way with such +an easy offhand grace. I always admired it." + +"I should say it was offhand!" cried Jack. For Lloyd, obeying orders, +clutched frantically after the cherry tart, with a shriek of dismay. It +had refused to stay poised on her finger-tips. + +"Topside down, of co'se," she wailed, as the broken plate fell in one +place, and the pastry in another. "And the juice is running all ovah me, +and the darling little cross-bahs are all in the sand!" + +Phil hastily clicked the shutter again. He was sure that the second snap +had caught the tart in the act of falling, and with the third film he +wanted to preserve the expression of surprise and dismay that clouded +Lloyd's face. It was one of the most ludicrous expressions he had ever +seen. + +"Pride goeth before destruction," he quoted, laughingly. + +"I wish you'd hush up with yoah old proverbs, Phil Tremont," cried +Lloyd, half-laughing and half-angry. "It's all yoah fault, anyway. You +knew I'd spill that taht if I held it that way, and I just believe you +did it on purpose. You knew when you first saw those pies it would be +useless for you to try to make any dessert to-morrow that would half-way +come up to them, and you deliberately planned to get them out of the +way, so you wouldn't have to stand the test. You were afraid you'd have +to give the picnic you promised." + +"Sputter away, if it will ease your mind any," laughed Phil. "It was +worth the picnic to see your frantic grab after that tart. But honestly, +Lloyd," he said, growing serious as he saw she really cared, "I'm as +sorry as I can be that it happened, and I'll do anything you say to make +atonement. I'll withdraw from the contest, award you the laurels, and +give the picnic, anyhow." + +"There's nothing the matter with the custard pie," piped up Norman, +"'cept'n you can see where Joyce's fingers jabbed into the meringue when +she caught it from Lloyd. I think it would be safer to eat it now before +anything else happens." + +"No, we'll set mamma to guard it till the rest of the dinner is ready," +said Joyce, leading the way back to the kitchen. "If everybody will fly +around and help, we'll have it a little earlier to-day." + +It was one of the jolliest meals that Phil had had in the Wigwam. +"Let's all go to Phoenix this afternoon," proposed Phil, when they had +gone back to the sitting-room. "We can take the films in to the +photographer, and have them developed. Joyce, you may ride my horse, and +I'll get one from Mrs. Lee." + +"Oh, thank you!" cried Joyce, looking wistfully through the window. "The +outdoors never did look so tempting, it seems to me, and those +programmes are getting so monotonous I can hardly make myself go back to +them. I wish I could go. But I can't shirk even for a few hours, or they +might miss getting there in time." + +"Couldn't anything tempt you to go?" urged Phil. + +She shook her head resolutely. "'Not all the king's horses and all the +king's men' could draw me away from these programmes till they are +finished." + +"No wonder she preached me such a sermon on loafing, this morning," +thought Phil, as he rode away beside Jack, with the roll of films in his +pocket. "Anybody with that much energy and perseverance doesn't need to +go to the School of the Bees. It makes her all the harder on the drones. +And I know that's what she thinks I am." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +A CHANGE OF FORTUNE + + +IT was nearly two o'clock next day when the thirtieth programme was +finished and placed in the last row of dainty cards, laid out for the +family's farewell inspection. While Lloyd cut the squares of +tissue-paper which were to lie between them, Joyce brought the box in +which they were to be packed and the white ribbons to tie them. + +Jack, having saddled Washington, was blacking his shoes and making other +preparations for his ride to town. A special trip had to be made, in +order to get the package to the Phoenix post-office in time. + +"They might wait until morning, I suppose," said Joyce, as she began +placing them carefully in piles of ten. "But it is best to allow all the +time possible for delays. Then the programmes have to be written on them +after they get to Plainsville. Oh, I _hope_ Mrs. Link will like them!" + +"I don't see how she can help it!" exclaimed Lloyd. "They're lovely, and +I think you'd be so proud of them you wouldn't know what to do." + +"I am pleased with them," admitted Joyce, stopping to take one last peep +at the pretty rose-garlanded Cupids ringing the bride-bells, which Phil +had suggested. It was the best design in the lot, she thought. + +"Oh, I forgot!" she exclaimed, suddenly, looking up in dismay. "What +shall I do? I promised Mr. Armond that I'd let him see these cards +before I sent them away." + +"You won't have time now," suggested Lloyd. + +"I suppose Jack could wait a few minutes, but I thought we'd start over +to Shaw's ranch just as soon as the cards were off. I didn't want to +lose a minute in getting my hive of bees, after I'd earned them. It's +such a long walk over there and back, that I don't feel like going to +the ranch first." + +"Let Jack stop and show them to Mr. Armond," suggested her mother. "He's +always so careful that he can be trusted to tie the box up safely +afterward." + +"Oh, he's _safe_ enough," answered Joyce, "but he'd make such a mess of +it, tying and untying the white ribbons on the inside of the package. +He can't make a decent bow to save his life. He'd have them all in +knots and strings, and after all the care I've taken I want Mrs. Link to +find them just as they leave me." + +For a moment Joyce stood undecided, regretting her promise to Mr. +Armond, and sorely tempted to break it. + +"He won't really care," she thought, but his own words came back to her +plaintively: "There is so little to interest one here,--if you don't +mind humouring an invalid's whims." + +She couldn't forget the hopeless melancholy of his face, and what Mr. +Ellestad had said to her about him: "He's just where Shapur was when the +caravan went on without him." And she remembered that in the story +Shapur had cursed the day he was born, and laid his head in the dust. + +"I'll go," she exclaimed. "Jack can follow as soon as he is ready, and +I'll hand the package to him as he passes. I'll be back as soon as I +can, Lloyd, and then we'll start right over to Mr. Shaw's. You explain +to Jack, please, mamma, and give him the money to pay the postage." + +Stopping only long enough to write the address on the wrapper, she +hurried down the road, bareheaded, toward the ranch. Lloyd sat down on +the front door-step to wait for her return. Opening a book, in which she +had become interested, she was soon so deep in the story that she +scarcely noticed when Jack rode away, a quarter of an hour later, +glancing up for just an instant as she waved her hand mechanically in +answer to his call. + +The kitchen clock struck half-past two, then three. With the last stroke +came a vague consciousness that it was growing late, and that Joyce was +long in coming, but the absorbing interest of the story made her +immediately forgetful again of her surroundings. + +It was nearly four when Mrs. Ware, coming out beside her on the step, +stood shading her eyes with her hand to peer down the road. + +"I can't imagine what keeps Joyce so long," she said, anxiously. "It +will soon be too late for you to go to the Shaws." + +But even as she spoke, Joyce came in sight, running as Lloyd had never +seen her run before. She had left the dusty road, and was bobbing along +on the edge of the desert, where the hard, dry sand, baked into a crust, +made travelling easier. + +"Oh, you'll never, never guess what kept me!" she called, as she hurried +up to the door, eager and breathless. Seizing her mother around the +waist, she gave her a great squeeze. + +"Oh, I'm so happy! So happy and excited that I don't know whether I'm on +my head or my heels. I feel like a cyclone caught in a jubilee, or a +jubilee caught in a cyclone, I don't know which. There never was such +glorious good fortune in the world for anybody!" + +"Do stop yoah prancing and dancing and tell us," demanded Lloyd, "or +we'll think that you've lost yoah mind." + +Joyce sank down beside her on the door-step. Her face was shining with a +great gladness, and she could hardly find breath to begin. + +"Oh, there aren't words good enough to tell it in!" she gasped. + +"Mr. Armond is an artist, mother, a really great one, who has had +pictures hung in the Salon and the Academy. Mr. Ellestad walked part of +the way home with me, and told me about him. He studied for years in +Paris, and lived in the Latin Quarter, and had a studio there, just like +Cousin Kate's friend, Mr. Harvey. And _that's_ the man Mr. Armond looks +like," she added, triumphantly. "I've been trying to think ever since I +first met him, who I had seen before with a short Vandyke beard like +his, and long, alive-looking fingers, that seem to have brains of their +own." + +"And that's what makes you so glad," laughed Lloyd, "to think you've +discovered the resemblance? Do get to the point. I'm wild to know." + +"Well, he liked my work, thought it showed originality and promise, and, +if mamma is willing, he wants to give me lessons. Think of that, Lloyd +Sherman,--lessons from an artist, a really great artist like that! Why, +it would mean more for me than years of class instruction in the Art +League, or anywhere else. He seemed pleased when I told him that I +wanted to do illustrating, because he said that that was something +practical, and work that would find a ready market. He told me so many +interesting things about famous illustrators that he has known, that I +have come away all on fire to begin. My fingers fairly tingle. Oh, +mamma!" she cried, two great happy tears welling up into her eyes. +"Isn't it splendid? The story of Shapur is true! For me the desert holds +a greater opportunity than kings' houses could offer!" + +"But the price, my dear little girl--" + +"And that's the best of it," interrupted Joyce. "He asked to be allowed +to do it for nothing. Time hangs so heavily on his hands that he said it +would be a charity to give him something to do, and Mr. Ellestad told +me afterward, as we walked home, that I ought to let him, because it's +the first thing that he has taken any interest in for months; that with +something to occupy his mind and make him contented, he would get better +much faster. + +"When I tried to thank him, and told him that he had showed me a better +way to the City of my Desire than the one I had planned for myself, he +said, with the brightest kind of a smile, 'I expect to get far more out +of this arrangement than you, my little girl. _You_ are the alchemist +whose courage and hope shall help me distil some drop of Contentment out +of this dreary existence.' + +"He is going to drive up here to-morrow, to ask you about it, and to see +the work I have already done. I'm glad now that I saved all those +charcoal sketches of block hands and ears and things. And I'm going to +get out all those still life studies I did with Miss Brown, and pin them +up on the wall, so he'll know just how far I've gone, and where to start +in with me." + +"Get them out now," said Lloyd. "You never did show them to me." + +There was some very creditable work hidden away in the old portfolio, +and, while they talked and looked and arranged the studies on the wall, +time slipped by unnoticed. + +"Aren't you mighty proud, Aunt Emily?" asked Lloyd, stepping back for a +final view, when the exhibit was duly arranged. + +"Proud and glad," answered Mrs. Ware, with a happy light in her eyes. +"It was always my dream to be an artist myself, and now to see my +unfulfilled ambitions realized in Joyce more than compensates for all my +disappointments." + +"Phil's coming," called Norman, from the yard. + +"And we haven't started for the bees!" exclaimed Joyce. "It's so late, +we'll have to put it off until to-morrow." + +But all plans for the morrow were laid aside when Phil told his errand. +He would not dismount, but paused just a moment to invite them to the +promised picnic at Hole-in-the-rock. + +"Everybody on the ranch is going," he explained. "Even Jo, to make the +coffee and unpack the lunch. There'll be a carriage here for you, Aunt +Emily, at three o'clock, and you must let Mary and Holland stay home +from school to go. No, don't bother to take any picnic baskets," he +interrupted, hastily, as Mrs. Ware started to say something about lunch. +"This is my affair. Jo is equal to anything, even cherry tarts and +custard pies, and I must make the atonement I promised to Lloyd, for +spilling hers." + +Waiting only long enough to hear their pleased acceptance, he dashed off +down the road again. Ever since her arrival in Arizona Lloyd had wanted +to see the famous hole in the rock. It lay several miles across the +desert, in a great red butte. There was a picture of it in the ranch +parlour, and nearly every tourist who passed through Phoenix made a +pilgrimage to the spot, and took snap shots of this curious freak of +nature. + +Climbing up the butte toward it, one seemed to be going into a mighty +cave, but when he had passed up into the opening, and down over a ledge +of rock, he saw that the cave led straight through the butte, like an +enormous tunnel, and at the farther end opened out on the other side of +the mountain, giving a wide outlook over the surrounding desert. It was +a favourite spot for picnic parties, but of all ever gathered there, +none had had so many preparations made for the comfort of the guests. +Phil rode over several times; once to be sure that the wood he had +ordered for the camp-fire had been delivered, and again to take a load +of canvas chairs, rubber blankets, rugs, and cushions, so that even the +invalids on the ranch could enjoy the outing. + +It was the first of March. Where the irrigating ditches ran, almond and +peach orchards were pink with bloom. California poppies, golden as the +sunshine, nodded on the edges of the waving green wheat. Even the dry, +hard desert was sweet in its miracle of blossoming. A carpet of bloom +covered it. Stems so short that they could scarcely raise the buds they +bore above the sand bravely pierced the hard-baked crust. Great masses +of yellow and blue, white, lavender, and scarlet transformed the bleak +solitary places for a little while into a glory of colour and perfume. +An odour, sweet as if blown across acres of narcissus, made Mrs. Ware +turn her head with a little cry of pleasure as they drove along toward +the butte the afternoon of the picnic. + +"It's the desert mistletoe," explained Phil, who was following on +horseback with Lloyd and Joyce the surrey which Jack was driving. + +"It is in blossom now, hanging in bunches from all those high bushes +over yonder. Mrs. Lee says it isn't like ours. The berries, instead of +being little white wax ones like pearls, shade from a deep red to the +palest rose-pink." + +"How lovely!" exclaimed Lloyd. "I hope I'll see some of the berries +befoah I go home. Oh, deah! the days are slipping by so fast. The month +will be gone befoah I know it." + +Phil, seeing the wistful expression in the eyes raised to his for a +moment, laid a detaining hand on her bridle-rein. "Let's walk the +horses, then," he said, laughingly, "and make the minutes last just as +long as possible. We'll have to fill the few days left to us so full of +pleasant things that you'll never forget them. I don't want you to +forget this day anyhow, because it's in your especial honour that this +picnic is given--because you're such an accomplished Queen of Hearts." + +"Tahts you mean," she answered, correcting him. + +"Maybe I mean both," he replied, with an admiring glance that sent a +quick blush to her face, and made her spur her pony on ahead. + +There were more things than that fragrant, breezy ride across the desert +to make her remember the day. There was the delicious supper that Jo +spread out under the sheltering ledge of rock at the entrance to the +great hole. There were the jokes and conundrums that passed around as +they ate, the witty repartee of the boy from Belfast that kept them all +laughing, and the stories gathered, like the guests, from all parts of +the world. + +"This is the first picnic I have been to since the one at the old mill, +when you had your house-party," said Joyce, snuggling up beside Lloyd +against a pile of cushions, after supper, as the blazing camp-fire +dispelled the gathering shadows of the twilight. + +"There is as much difference between the two picnics as there is between +a cat and a tigah," said Lloyd, tingling with the horror of an Indian +story that the cowboy had just told. "Mine was so tame and this is so +exciting. I'm glad that I didn't live out West in the times they are +telling about. Just listen!" + +Phil had asked for an Indian story from each one, and Mrs. Lee had begun +to tell her experiences during her first years on the ranch. No actual +harm had come to her, but several terrible frights during a dreadful +Apache uprising. She had been alone on the ranch, with only George, who +was a baby then, and a neighbour's daughter for company. They had seen +the smoke and flames shoot up from a distant ranch, where the Indians +fired all the buildings and haystacks; and they had waited in terror +through the long hours, not knowing what moment an arrow might come +hurtling through the window of the little adobe house, where they +cowered in darkness. + +In frightened whispers they discussed what they should do if the +Apaches should come, and the only means of escape left to them was to +take the baby and climb down the jagged rocks that lined the walls of +the well. The water was about shoulder deep. Even that was a dangerous +proceeding, for there was the fear that the baby might cry and call +attention to their hiding-place, or that some thirsty Indian, coming for +water, might discover them. + +Mrs. Lee told it in such a realistic way that Lloyd almost held her +breath, feeling in part the same fear that had seized the helpless women +as they waited for the dreaded war-whoop, and watched the flames of +their neighbours' dwellings. She shuddered when she heard of the scene +that was discovered at the desolated ranch next morning. An entire +family had been massacred and scalped, and left beside the charred ruins +of their home. Even the little blue-eyed baby had not escaped. + +As the twilight deepened, the stories passing around the camp-fire +seemed to grow more dreadful. Mary was afraid to look behind her, and +presently, hiding her face in her mother's lap, stuck her fingers in her +ears. It was a relief to more than Mary when Jo, who had been packing +the dishes back into the baskets behind the scenes, came rushing into +the circle around the fire so excited that, in his wild mixture of +Japanese and broken English, he could hardly make himself understood. He +was holding out both forefingers, from each of which trickled a little +stream of blood. Each bore the gash of a carving-knife, which had +slipped through his fingers in his careless handling of it, as he kept +his ears strained to hear the Indian stories. + +[Illustration: "HE WAS HOLDING OUT BOTH FOREFINGERS"] + +He laughed and jabbered excitedly, with a broad grin on his face. +Finally he succeeded in making Mrs. Lee understand that the cutting of +both forefingers at the same moment was the sign that there was some +extraordinary good fortune in store for him. It was the luckiest thing +that could have befallen him, and he declared that he must go at once to +the Chinese lottery in Phoenix. + +"If I toucha ticket with these," he cried, holding up his bleeding +fingers, "I geta heap much money; fo', five double times so much as I +puta in. I be back fo' geta breakfus'," he called, suddenly darting +away. Before Mrs. Lee could protest, he was on his wheel, tearing across +the desert trail toward Phoenix like some uncanny wild thing of the +night. + +"The superstitious little heathen!" exclaimed Mrs. Lee. "If he should +win, I may never lay eyes on him again. He's not the first good cook +that I've lost in that way. I have found that, if one once gets the +gambling fever, I may as well begin to look immediately for a new one." + +"Chris says that he has seen men lose ten thousand dollars at a time," +broke in Holland, his eyes big with interest. "Prospectors used to come +in from the mines with their gold-dust and nuggets, and they'd spread +down a blanket right on the street corner and play sometimes till they'd +lose everything they had." + +"It's the curse of the West," sighed Mrs. Lee. "I could tell some +pitiful tales of the young men and boys I have known, who came out here +for their health, got infatuated with the different games of chance, and +lost everything. One man I knew was such a nervous wreck from the shock +of finding himself a pauper as well as an invalid that he lost his mind +and committed suicide. Another had to be taken care of in his last days +and be buried by a charitable society, and another had to write to his +sister that he was penniless. She sewed for a living, and she sewed then +to support him, till she worked herself ill and died before he did. He +spent his last days in the almshouse." + +"We should have showed Jo Alaka's eyes, and told him the Indian legend," +said Mr. Ellestad, pointing up to the stars. "Do you see those two +bright ones just over Camelback Mountain? Look up in a straight line +from the head, and you will see two stars unusually brilliant and +twinkling. Those are the eyes of the god Alaka. He lost them in +gambling. An old settler told me the story. He got it from an Indian, +and, as I read something like it in a Chicago paper this winter, I think +we may be justified in believing it. At least it is as plausible as the +old myths the ancients told of the stars,--Cassiopeia's chair, for +instance, and Leo's sickle." + +"Tell it," begged Lloyd. "I'd rathah heah them than those blood and +thundah Apache stories. I'll not be able to close my eyes to-night." + +Every voice in the circle joined in the chorus of assents that went up, +except Phil's, and no one noticed his silence but Lloyd. + +It seemed to her that he had looked uncomfortable ever since Mrs. Lee +had spoken so feelingly of the curse of the West; but she told herself +that it must be just her imagination,--that it was the flickering +shadows of the camp-fire that gave his face its peculiar expression. He +moved back into the darkness against the rock, with his hat over his +eyes, as Mr. Ellestad began the story: + +"Once there was a young god named Alaka sent by the Great Spirit to live +awhile among the cliff-dwellers of the Southwest. Now in that country +there is a fever that lays hold of the children of the sun. It comes you +know not how, and you cannot stop it. And this fever that runs hot in +the veins of men began to course through the blood of Alaka, a fierce +fever to gamble. + +"At first, when men challenged him to pit his skill against theirs, he +refused, knowing that the Great Spirit had forbidden it; but they jeered +him, saying: 'Ah, ha! He is afraid that he will lose. This can be no +god, or he would not fear us.' So when they had made a mock of him until +he could no longer endure it, he cried: 'Come! I will show you that I am +a god! that I fear nothing!' + +"Forgetting all that the Great Spirit had enjoined upon him, he plunged +madly into the game. Now the most precious thing known to that people is +the turquoise, for it is the stone that stole its colour from the sky. +Around the neck of the young god hung a string of these turquoises, and +one by one he lost them, till the morning found him with only an empty +string in his hand. + +"Still the fever was upon him, and he could not assuage it, so he put up +his shells from the Great Water in the west. These people had heard of +a great water many days' journey toward the setting sun, but to the +dwellers in the Land of Thirst it seemed incredible to them that there +could be so much water in the world as Alaka told them of. But they +looked upon the exquisite colour of the shells he brought, which held +the murmur of the sea in their hearts, and counted them wonderful +treasures. And they gambled all day with Alaka to gain possession of +them. + +"Still the fever waxed hotter than ever within him, and, when he had +lost his shells, he put up his measure of sacred meal. When he lost +that, they made a mock of him again, saying not that he was afraid to +lose, but that he had no skill, that he was not a god. He was less than +a man,--he was only a papoose, and that he should play no more until he +had learned wisdom. + +"Then Alaka was beside himself with rage. 'I will show you,' he cried. +'I will venture such mighty stakes that I must win.' He plucked out his +right eye and laid it where the turquoises, the shells, and the sacred +meal had lain. But the eye was lost also, and after that the left eye, +so that, when morning dawned, he staggered into the sunrise, blind and +ruined. + +"Then he called upon the Great Spirit to give him back his sight, but +the Great Spirit was angry with him, and drove him away into the Land of +Shadows. And He caught up the eyes and said: 'I will hang them up among +the stars to be a warning for ever to the children of men not to +gamble.' + +"So they hang there to this day, and the wise look up, and, seeing them, +pray to the Great Spirit to keep them from the fever; but the unheeding +go on, till, like Alaka, they lose their all, and are lost themselves in +the Land of Shadow." + +That was the last story told that evening around the camp-fire. The moon +was coming up, and Phil brought out Mrs. Ware's old guitar, which he had +restrung for the occasion. Striking a few rattling chords, he started +off on an old familiar song, calling on all the company to join. His +voice was a surprise to every one, a full, sweet tenor, strong and +clear, that soared out above all the others, except Mrs. Lee's full, +high soprano. The Scotchman rumbled along with a heavy bass. One by one +the others caught up the song, even little Norman joining in the chorus. +Lloyd was the only one who sat silent. + +"Sing," whispered Joyce, giving her a commanding nudge. Lloyd shook her +head. "It's so heavenly sweet I want to listen," she replied, under +cover of the song. The music and the mountains and the moonlight, with +the wide, white desert stretching away on every side, seemed to cast +some sort of witchery over her, and she sat with hands clasped and lips +parted, almost afraid to breathe, for fear that what seemed to be a +beautiful dream would come to end. + +A tremulous little sigh escaped her when it did come to an end. "It's +time to strike the trail again," called Mrs. Lee. "That is the worst of +these outings. We can't stay singing on the mountains. We have to get +down to earth again. My return to valley life will take me into the +deepest depths if Jo doesn't come back in the morning to get breakfast." + +"Oh, it was so beautiful!" sighed Lloyd, later, when the party finally +started homeward across the moon-whitened desert. It had taken some time +to collect all the chairs, hampers, and cushions which George and +Holland took home in the ranch wagon. The moon was directly overhead. + +Lloyd was riding beside Phil a little in advance of the others. "It was +the very nicest picnic I evah went to, Phil," she said, "and it's the +loveliest memory that I'll have to take home with me of this visit to +Arizona." + +"I'm glad you enjoyed it," he answered, taking off his hat, and riding +along beside her bareheaded in the moonlight. How big and handsome he +looked, she thought, sitting up so erect in his saddle, with his eyes +smiling down into hers. + +"I don't want you ever to forget--" he hesitated an instant, then added +in a lower tone, "Arizona." + +The sweet odours of the night came blowing up from every direction, the +ethereal fragrance of the mistletoe bloom, the heavy perfume of the +orange-blossoms hanging white in distant orchards. Behind them the +picnickers began to sing again, "Roll along, silver moon, guide the +traveller on his way." + +Lloyd looked around for Joyce. She was riding far in the rear of the +caravan, beside the carriage where Mrs. Lee led the chorus. Presently +the old tune changed, and some one started the Bedouin love-song, "From +the desert I come to thee." + +Looking down at her again with smiling eyes, Phil took up the words, +sending them rolling out on the night in a voice that thrilled her with +its sweetness, as they rode on side by side across moonlighted desert: + + "_Till the sun grows cold, + And the stars are old, + And the leaves of the Judgment + Book unfold!_" + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +THE LOST TURQUOISES + + +THAT night there was a whispered consultation in Mrs. Ware's tent while +Lloyd was undressing in the other one. Sitting on the edge of her +mother's bed, Joyce rapidly outlined a plan which she had thought of on +her way home. + +"You see, I haven't done anything special at all to give Lloyd a good +time," she began. "This picnic was Phil's affair. When I was at her +house-party, there was something new on the programme nearly every day. +She's been here nearly a month now, and her visit will soon be over. I'd +like to give her one real larky day before she goes. Mrs. Lee said that +I could have Bogus to-morrow, and, as it is Saturday, the children will +be at home to help you. So I thought it would be fun for Jack and Lloyd +and me to ride over to the Indian school. It's so interesting, and it +doesn't cost anything to get in. Then we could go on to the ostrich +farm just outside of Phoenix. Lloyd wants to get some kodak pictures of +the ostriches. The admission fee will only be seventy-five cents for the +three of us. I can pay that out of the money that Mrs. Link sent, and +get a nice little lunch at Coffee Al's restaurant, and still have enough +left to pay for my hive of bees. We can spend the rest of the afternoon +prowling around the curio shops and picture stores. Lloyd wants to get +ever so many things to take home,--bead belts and moccasins, and things +made out of cactus and orangewood. I haven't said anything to her about +it yet, but Phil said that if we went he would join us." + +"I think that is a very good plan," said Mrs. Ware, entering into +whatever Joyce proposed with hearty interest. "You'd better not tell her +to-night, or you'll lie awake talking about it too long, and you'll need +to make an early start, you know." + +By half-past eight next morning the little cavalcade was on its way, +Jack and Lloyd riding on ahead, and Phil and Joyce following leisurely. +The road they took led through irrigated lands, and green fields and +blooming orchards greeted them at every turn, instead of the waste +stretches of desert that they were accustomed to seeing. + +"I wish you'd look!" exclaimed Lloyd, drawing rein to wait for Joyce +and Phil, and then pointing to a field where a boy was ploughing a long, +straight furrow. "That's an _Indian_ ploughing there! An Indian in a +cadet unifawm, with brass buttons on it. Doesn't it seem queah? Jack +says it's the unifawm of the school, and that they have to weah it when +they hiah out to the fahmahs. This is paht of their education. I like +them best in tomahawks and blankets. It seems moah natural." + +"This isn't Hiawatha's land," laughed Phil, "nor the Pathfinder's +country. I was disappointed, too, to find them so tame and +unromantic-looking, but they're certainly more pleasant as neighbours +since they have taken to civilization. You remember the horrible tales +we heard last night." + +Lloyd had expected to see a large school-building, but she was surprised +to find in addition so many other buildings. Dormitories, workshops, a +public hall, and the fine, wide streets leading around the central +square gave the appearance of a thrifty little village. They lingered +long in the kindergarten, where the bright-eyed little papooses were so +interested in watching them that they almost forgot the song they were +singing about "Baby's ball so soft and round." They went through the +great kitchens, where Indian girls were learning to cook, and the +tailoring establishment where the boys were turning out the new +uniforms. Down in one of the parlours a little eagle-eyed girl, with +features strikingly like those of Sitting Bull, practised the +five-finger exercises at the piano. Only twice did they see anything +that reminded them of the primitive Indians. In one of the workshops a +swarthy boy sat before a loom such as the old squaws used to have, +weaving patiently a Navajo blanket. And in one of the buildings where +dressmaking was taught there was a table surrounded by busy +bead-workers, working on chains and belts and gaily decorated trinkets +that made Lloyd wish for a bottomless purse. They were all so tempting. + +So much time was occupied in watching the classes in wood-carving, and +in listening to recitations in the various rooms, that it was nearly +noon when they reached the ostrich farm. It was not the ranch where the +great birds were hatched and raised, but a large enclosure near the +street-car line, where they were brought to be exhibited to the +tourists. So, after watching the foolish-looking creatures awhile, +laughing at their comical expressions as they tilted mincingly up and +down in what Lloyd called the perfection of cake-walking, and taking +several snap-shots of them, Joyce proposed that they should leave their +horses at a corral farther down the street, and go at once for their +lunch. + +It was the first time that Jack had been inside the restaurant, and he +was glad that Phil, who often lunched there, was with them to take the +lead. He felt very young and inexperienced in the ways of the world, as +he marched in behind him, and, while he secretly admired the lordly air +with which Phil gave his orders, he saw that the girls were impressed by +it, too, and he inwardly resented being made to appear such an +insignificant small boy by contrast. + +He had supposed that they would sit up on the stools at the +lunch-counters which one could see from the street. That is where he, in +his ignorance, would have piloted the party. But Phil, passing them by, +led the way up-stairs. An attractive-looking dining-room opened out from +the upper hall, but, ignoring that also, Phil kept on to a balcony +overlooking the street, where there were several small tables. + +"They serve out here in hot weather," he said, "and it's warm enough +to-day, I'm sure. Besides, we'll be all by ourselves, and can see what +is going on down below. Here, Sambo!" + +He beckoned to a coloured waiter passing through the hall, and soon had +him scurrying around in haste to fill their orders. It was the most +enjoyable little lunch Lloyd could remember. Phil, who somehow naturally +assumed the part of host, had never been so entertaining. Time slipped +by so fast while they laughed and talked that the hour was finished +before they realized that it had fairly begun. + +Then Phil, putting Lloyd's camera on an opposite table, and focussing it +on the group, showed the waiter how to snap the spring, and hurried back +to his chair to be included in the picture which they all wanted as a +souvenir of the day's excursion. + +They made arrangements for the rest of the afternoon after that. Jack +was to take the camera to a photographer's and leave it for the roll of +films to be developed, and then go to a shoestore and the grocery. Phil +had an errand to attend to for Mrs. Lee and a few purchases to make. +Lloyd had a long list of things she hoped to find in the Curio Building. +They agreed to meet at a drug store on that street which had a corner +especially furnished for the comfort of its out-of-town patrons. Besides +numerous easy chairs and tables, where tired customers could be served +at any time from the soda-fountain, there were daily papers to help +pass the time of waiting, and a desk provided with free stationery. + +It was just four o'clock when Joyce and Lloyd, coming back to the drug +store with their arms full of packages, found Jack already there waiting +for them. He was weighing himself on the scales near the door. + +"I've been knocking around here for the last half-hour," he said. "I'll +go out and look for Phil now, and tell him you are ready, and we'll get +the horses and bring them around." + +"How long will it take?" asked Joyce. + +"Fifteen or twenty minutes, probably. He's just up the street." + +"Then I'll begin a lettah to mothah," said Lloyd, depositing her bundles +on a table, and sitting down at the desk. Joyce picked up an illustrated +paper and settled herself comfortably in a rocking-chair. + +The big clock over the soda-fountain slowly dropped its hands down the +dial, but Joyce, absorbed in her reading, and Lloyd in her writing, paid +no attention until half an hour had gone by. Then Lloyd, folding her +letter and slipping it into an envelope, looked up. + +"Mercy, Joyce! It's half-past foah! What do you suppose is the mattah?" + +Before Joyce could answer, she caught sight of Jack, through the big +show-window, hurrying down the street by himself. He was red in the face +from his rapid walking when he came in, and had a queer expression about +his mouth that he always had when disgusted or out of patience. + +"Phil's busy," he announced. "He wants me to ask you if you'd mind +waiting a few minutes longer. He wouldn't ask it, but it's something +quite important." + +"We ought to get back as soon as we can," said Joyce, "for I've been +away all day, and there's the ride home still ahead of us. I'm afraid +mamma will start to get supper herself if I'm not there." + +"I think I'll put in the time we're waiting in writing to the Walton +girls," said Lloyd, drawing a fresh sheet of paper toward her. Joyce +picked up her story again, and Jack went out into the street, where he +stood tapping one heel against the curbstone, and with his hands thrust +into his pockets. Then he walked to the corner and back, and peered in +through the show-window at the clock over the soda-fountain. When he had +repeated the performance several times, Joyce beckoned for him to come +in. + +"It's after five o'clock," she said. "It must be very important business +that keeps him so long." + +"It is," answered Jack. "I'll go back once more, and if I can't get him +away, I'll go around and get the horses and we'll just ride off and +leave him." + +"Can't get him away!" repeated Joyce. "Where is he?" + +"Oh, just up the street a little way," said Jack, carelessly, pointing +over his shoulder with his thumb. + +Joyce looked at him steadily an instant, then, as if she had read his +mind, said, with startling abruptness: "Jack Ware, you might as well +tell me. Is he doing what Mr. Ellestad says all the boys out here do +sooner or later, getting mixed up in some of those gambling games?" + +There was no evading Joyce when she spoke in that tone. Jack had learned +that long ago. But, with a glance toward Lloyd, who sat with her back +toward them, he only nodded his reply. Startled by the question, Lloyd +turned just in time to see the nod. + +"I didn't intend to tell on him," blurted Jack, "but you surprised it +out of me. He put some money on a roulette wheel, and lost all the first +part of the afternoon. Now his luck has begun to change, and he says +he's got to stick by it till he makes back at least a part of what he +started with." + +Joyce looked up at the clock. "We ought to be going," she said, drumming +nervously on the arm of her chair with her fingers. Then she hesitated, +a look of sisterly concern on her face. "I hate, though, to go off and +leave him there. No telling when he'll come home if he feels he is free +to stay as long as he pleases. Goodness, Jack! I'm glad it isn't you. +I'd be having a fit if it were, and I can't help thinking how poor Elsie +would feel if she knew it. Lloyd, what do you think we ought to do?" + +"I think we ought to go straight off and leave him!" she answered, +hotly. "It's perfectly horrid of him to so fah fo'get himself as a +gentleman as to pay no attention to his promises. He made a positive +engagement with us to meet us heah at foah o'clock, and now it's aftah +five. I nevah had a boy treat me that way befoah, and I must say I +haven't much use for one that will act so." + +Presently, after some slight discussion, the girls slowly gathered up +the bundles and walked up the street to the corral. Jack hurried on +ahead, so that by the time they reached it, the men there had the ponies +saddled and were waiting to help them mount and tie on the packages by +the many leather thongs which fringed the saddles for that purpose. + +It was a quiet ride homeward. A cloud seemed to have settled over their +gay spirits. Nobody laughed, nobody spoke much. The story of Alaka was +still fresh in each mind, and what Mrs. Lee had said about the curse of +the West, and the fate of the men she had known who had become possessed +by the same fever. + +They remembered how Jo had come in at daylight, red-eyed and sullen, +after his night's losses, for the lucky feeling which seized him at the +sight of his cut fingers had been a mistaken omen of success. All that +he had saved in months of service had vanished before sunrise in the +same way that Alaka's turquoises and shells and eyes had gone. + +Deeper than the indignation in Lloyd's heart, deeper than her sense of +wounded pride that Phil should have been so indifferent about keeping +his engagement to meet them, was a sore feeling of disappointment in +him. He had seemed so strong and manly that she had thought him above +the weakness of yielding to such temptations. + +She recalled the expression of his face the night before when he drew +back from the firelight into the shadow, and pulled his hat over his +eyes, as Mr. Ellestad began the story of Alaka. Evidently he had played +Alaka's game before. + +Ah, that night before! How the whole moonlighted scene rolled back over +her memory, as she rode along now, slightly in advance of Joyce and +Jack. Phil had been with her that night before, and, as the sweet +strains of the Bedouin love-song floated out on the stillness of the +desert, something had stirred in her girlish heart as she looked up at +him. A vague wonder if it were possible that in years to come this would +prove to be the one the stars had destined for her. And, as if in answer +to her unspoken wonder, his voice had joined in, higher and sweeter than +all the others, as he smiled down into her eyes. But now--there was a +little twinge of pain when she thought that he wasn't a prince at all +when measured by the yard-stick of old Hildgardmar and her father, much +less the one written in the stars for her. He wasn't strong, and he +wasn't honourable if he gambled, and she told herself that she was glad +that she knew it. And now that she had found out how much she had been +mistaken in him, she didn't care any more for his friendship, and that +she never intended to have anything more to do with him. + +A dozen times on the way home Joyce said to herself: "Oh, what if it had +been Jack!" And, thinking of Elsie and the father so far away across the +seas, she wished that she could do something to get him away from the +surroundings that were sure to work to his undoing if he persisted in +staying there. + +Supper was ready when they reached home. Afterward there were all +Lloyd's purchases to be unwrapped and admired. Mary had hoped for a +candy-pull, as it was Saturday, and they had not had one during Lloyd's +visit; but the girls were too tired after so many miles in the saddle, +and by nine o'clock all lights were out and a deep quiet reigned over +Ware's Wigwam and the tents. + +The moonlight flooding the white canvas kept Lloyd awake for awhile. As +she lay there, listening to the distant barking of coyotes, and going +over the events of the day, she heard the approaching sound of hoof +beats. Some lonely horseman was coming down the desert road. She raised +herself on her elbow to listen, recognizing the sound. It was Phil's +horse clattering over the little bridge. But it paused under the +pepper-trees. + +"I suppose Phil has come up to apologize," she said to herself, "but he +might as well save himself the trouble. No explanation could evah +explain away the fact that he was rude to us and that he _gambled_. I +could forgive the first, but I nevah can forgive being so disappointed +in him." + +A moment later, seeing no light, and evidently concluding that his visit +was untimely, he turned and rode back toward the ranch. Lloyd, still +leaning on her elbow, strained her ears to listen till the last footfall +died away in the distance. + +"He'll be back in the mawning," she thought, as she laid her head on the +pillow. "He always comes Sunday mawnings; but he'll not find us this +time, because we'll be gone befoah he gets heah." + +Joyce had arranged to keep Bogus part of the next day, so that they +could ride into Phoenix to church. So it happened that when Phil came up +next morning, it was to find nobody but Mary in sight. Mrs. Ware had +gone to the seat under the willows to read to Norman and Holland. + +The beehive had been brought over during Joyce's absence the day before, +and placed in the shade of the bushy umbrella-tree where the hammock +swung, and Mary was swinging in the hammock now, with a book in her lap. +It was closed over one finger to keep the place, for she was listening +to the droning of the bees, breathing in the sweetness that floated in +across the desert from its acres of vivid bloom, and paying more +attention to the sunny, vibrant world about her than to the hymn she was +learning. + +"What are you doing, Mary?" he called, as his step on the bridge made +her look around. She held up a battered old volume of poems, and moved +over in the hammock to make room for him beside her. + +"I'm learning a hymn. That's the way we always earned our missionary +money back in Kansas. I'm going to Sunday school with Hazel and George +this afternoon in the surrey over to the schoolhouse. Her uncle has one +there. I didn't have any pennies to take, so mamma said I could begin +learning hymns again, as I used to do back home." + +As usual Mary rattled on, scarcely pausing to take breath or give her +listener a chance to make reply. + +"This isn't one of the singing hymns, the kind they have in church. It's +by Isaac Watts. I like it because it's about bees, and it's so easy to +say: + + "How doth the little busy bee + Improve each shining hour, + And gather honey all the day + From every opening flower.' + +"Joyce picked it out for me, and said that she guessed that Isaac Watts +must have gone to the School of the Bees himself, and that was where he +learned that 'Satan finds some mischief still for idle hands to do.' The +bees hate idle hands, you know, that's the drones, and, although they +are patient with them longer than you'd suppose they'd be, it always +ends in their stinging the drones to death. + +"And Lloyd said it was a pity that some other people she knew not a +thousand miles away couldn't go to school to the bees and learn that +about Satan's finding mischief for idle hands to do. + +"And Joyce said yes, it was, for it was too bad for such a fine fellow +to get into trouble just because he was a drone, and had no ambition to +make anything of himself. And I asked them who they meant, but they just +laughed at each other and wouldn't tell me. I don't see why big girls +always want to be so mysterious about things and act as if they had +secrets. Do you?" + +"No, indeed!" answered Phil, in his most sympathetic manner. He stooped +and picked a long blade of grass at his feet. + +"And Joyce said that if Alaka had gone to school to the bees, he +wouldn't have lost his eyes, and Lloyd said that if somebody kept on, +he would lose at least his turquoises. When I asked her what she meant, +she said, oh, she was just thinking of what Mr. Ellestad told at the +picnic, that the Indians thought the turquoises were their most precious +stones because they stole their colour from the sky, and she called +turquoise the friendship stone because it was true blue." + +Phil began whistling softly, as he pulled the blade of grass back and +forth between his fingers. + +"So they think that somebody is like Alaka, do they?" he asked, +presently, "in danger of losing his turquoises, his friendship stones. +Well, I can imagine instances when that would be as bad for Alaka as +losing his eyes." + +Phil had walked up to the Wigwam more buoyantly than usual that morning. +He knew that he owed the girls an apology for not meeting them as he had +promised, and he was prepared to make it so penitently and gracefully +that he was sure that they would accept his excuses without a question. +The big roll of bills in his pocket, which he had won by a lucky turn of +the wheel, did not lie heavy on his conscience at all. It rather added +to his buoyance of spirit, for it was so large that it would enable him +to do several things he had long wished to do. Because of it, too, he +had come up to plan another picnic, this time an excursion to Paradise +Valley on the other side of Camelback. + +But Mary's report of the conversation which had puzzled her gave him an +uncomfortable feeling. He could not fail to understand its meaning. +Evidently the girls knew what had detained him in town and were +displeased with him. + +"Oh, aren't you going to stay for dinner?" asked Mary, as he slowly rose +and stretched himself. "It's Sunday, you know, and we always expect you +on Sunday." + +"No, thank you," he answered, yawning. "I've changed my programme +to-day." + +"Aren't you coming back this afternoon?" she asked, anxiously. "They'll +all be home then." + +He studied the distant buttes a moment before he answered, then squared +back his shoulders in a decided way, settling his hat firmly on his +head. + +"No," he answered, finally, "I promised a fellow I met in town at the +hotel the other day that I'd ride over and see him soon. He has a camp +over on the other side of Hole-in-the-Rock, with an old duffer that's +out here for rheumatism. I took a fancy to the fellow the minute I saw +him, and it turns out that he's the cousin of a boy I knew at military +school. It's funny the way you run across people that way out here." + +One of Phil's greatest charms to Mary was the deferential way he had of +talking to her as if she were his age, and taking the trouble to explain +his actions. Now, as he turned away, with a pleasant good morning, it +was with as polite a lifting of his hat as if she had been nineteen +instead of nine. + +She watched him swing down the road with his quick, military step, never +dreaming in her unsuspecting little heart that _he_ was the mysterious +person who, the girls wished, could learn about Satan and the work he +finds for idle hands. Nor did she dream that the words she had so +innocently repeated were still sounding in his ears: "If somebody keeps +on, he'll at least lose his turquoises. It's the friendship stone--true +blue!" + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +LOST ON THE DESERT + + +IF Washington had not lost a shoe on the way home from church, and if +Joyce had not been seized with a violent headache that sent her to bed +with a bandage over her eyes, the day would have ended far differently +for Lloyd. + +The afternoon went by quickly, for, lulled by the drowsy hum of the +bees, she had fallen asleep in the hammock under the umbrella-tree, and +slept a long time. Then supper was earlier than usual, as Jack wanted +his before starting to the ranch. Chris, the Mexican, was taking a +holiday, and had offered Jack a quarter to do the milking for him that +evening. Holland strolled down the road with him, since the lost +horseshoe prevented him taking the ride he had expected to enjoy. + +Scarcely were they out of sight when an old buggy rattled up from the +other direction, bringing a woman and her two little girls from a +neighbouring ranch for an evening visit. Lloyd, who was on her way to +the tent to see if she could do anything for Joyce's comfort, heard a +voice which she recognized as Mrs. Shaw's, as the woman introduced +herself to Mrs. Ware. + +"I've been planning to get over here ever since you came," she began, +"and specially since I got acquainted with your daughter over them bees, +but 'pears like there's nothing in life on week-days but work; so this +evening, when my little girls begged to come over and see your little +girl, says I to myself, it's now or never, and I just hitched up and +came." + +"Oh, deah!" sighed Lloyd. "I don't want to spend the whole evening +listening to that tiahsome woman. The boys are gone, and Joyce's head +aches too bad for her to talk. I don't know what to do." + +She stepped softly into the tent, insisting on rubbing Joyce's head, or +doing something to make her more comfortable, but Joyce sent her away, +saying that the pain was growing less, and that she didn't want her to +stay shut up in the tent that smelled so strongly of the camphor she had +spilled. + +Lloyd turned away and wandered down to the pasture bars, where she stood +looking over toward the west. The sun was dropping out of sight. For +the first time since she had come to the Wigwam she felt lonesome. She +was so full of life after her long sleep, so fresh and wide-awake, that +she looked around her restlessly, wishing that something exciting would +happen. She was in the mood to enjoy an adventure of some kind, no +matter what. + +While she stood there, her pony, who had often been coaxed up to the +bars for sugar, now came up through curiosity, evidently wondering at +her silence. "Come on, old boy," she said, reaching through the bars to +grasp the rope that trailed from his neck. "You've settled it. We'll go +off and have a ride togethah." + +With some difficulty, she saddled him herself, and then because she did +not want to disturb Joyce by going back to the tent to change her white +dress for her divided skirt, she mounted as if the cross-saddle were a +side-saddle, and rode slowly out of the yard bareheaded. + +Mrs. Ware fluttered her handkerchief in response to the wave of Lloyd's +hand, and looked after her as she took the road to the ranch. "She's +going to see Mrs. Lee," she thought, and then turned her attention to +her talkative visitor. + +It was merely from force of habit that Lloyd had taken the ranch road. +She was in sight of the camp before she became aware of where the pony +was carrying her. + +Then she turned abruptly, hardly knowing why she did so. Phil was at the +ranch. She would not have him think that she had gone down with the hope +of seeing him. She did not put the thought into words, but that is what +influenced her to turn. In front of her Camelback Mountain loomed up, +looking larger and more lifelike than usual, with the reflected light of +the sunset lying rosy red on its summit. She knew that there is +something extremely deceptive in the clear Arizona atmosphere, and had +been told that the distance to the mountain was over five miles. But it +was hard to believe. It looked so near that she was sure that she could +reach it in a few minutes' brisk ride,--that she could easily go that +far and back before daylight was entirely gone. + +An old game that she had played at the Cuckoos' Nest sent a verse +floating idly through her memory: + + "How many miles to Barley-bright?" + "_Three score and ten!_" + "Can I get there by candle light?" + "_Yes, if your legs are long and light-- + There and back again!_ + _Look out! The witches will catch you!_" + +With somewhat of the same eerie feeling that had affected her when she +joined in the game with Betty and the little Appletons, she turned the +pony into the narrow trail that led across the sand in and out among the +sage-brush. Later, those same gray bushes might look startlingly like +witches reaching up out of the gloaming. + +"It's a good thing that yoah legs _are_ long and light," she said to the +pony, as he started off with a long, rabbit-like lope. "And it's a good +thing that you seem as much at home heah as Br'er Rabbit was in the +brush-pile when Br'er Fox threw him in for stealing his buttah. I'm glad +it isn't old Tar Baby that I'm on. He wouldn't be used to these gophah +holes, and would stumble into the first one we came to. Oh, this is +glorious!" + +She shook back her hair as the soft, orange-perfumed breeze blew it +about her face. Her full white sleeves fluttered out from her arms. +Again she had that delightful sense of birdlike motion, of free, wild +swinging through space. On and on they went, never noticing how far they +had travelled or how dark it was growing, till suddenly she saw that she +was not on any trail. A thick growth of stubby mesquit bushes made +almost a thicket in front of her. An enormous cactus, thirty feet high, +stood in her way like one of the Barley-bright witches. From its thorny +trunk stretched two great arms, thrown up as if to ward off her coming. +Its resemblance to a human figure was uncanny, and she stood staring at +it with a fascinated gaze. + +"It's big enough to be the camel-drivah of the camel in the mountain," +she said in a half-whisper to the pony. Then looking on toward the +mountain, she realized that she had to strain her eyes to see it through +the rapidly gathering gloom. Night had fallen suddenly, and the mountain +seemed farther away than when she started. + +"Oh, it will be black night befoah we get home," she thought, turning in +nervous haste. Then a new trouble confronted her. She was facing a dim, +trackless wilderness, and she did not know how to get home. She had kept +the mountain steadily in view as she rode toward it, but now she +realized that it was so large that she could easily do that, and still +at the same time go far out of her course. + +"You'll have to find the way home," she said, helplessly, to the pony, +failing to remember that the Wigwam pasture had been his home for only a +few weeks, and that, left to himself, he would go directly to his native +ranch. + +[Illustration: "CLATTERING DOWN THE ROAD AS FAST AS HIS FEET COULD CARRY +HIM"] + +In a few minutes Lloyd found herself carried along a narrow road, not +more than a wagon track. While she knew that she had never been over it +before, it was some comfort to find that she was on a human +thoroughfare, and not lost among the tracks of wandering coyotes and +jack-rabbits. + +The pony, feeling that he was headed toward his own home, went willingly +enough, and Lloyd began to enjoy her adventure. + +"How exciting it will sound back in that tame little Valley," she +thought, "lost in the desert! I'll give the girls such a thrilling +description of it that they'll feel cold chills running up and down +their spines. It's a wondah that the cold chills don't run up and down +me! But I'm not one bit afraid now. This road is bound to lead to +somebody's house, and everybody is so friendly out heah in the West that +whoevah finds me will take me home." + +The pony swung along a few rods farther, then, startled by an owl rising +suddenly out of the wayside bushes with a heavy flopping of wings, +jumped sideways with such a start that Lloyd was almost thrown from her +seat. It was an insecure one at best, and she was about to throw her +foot over into the other stirrup when a forward plunge sent the pony +into a gopher hole, and Lloyd over his head. + +When she picked herself up from the road and looked dizzily around, she +gave a little gasp of horror. The pony, freed of his burden and spurred +on by his fright, was clattering down the road as fast as his feet could +carry him, and she was left helpless in what seemed to her the very +heart of the great, desolate desert. She stood motionless till the last +faint thud of the pony's hoofs died away down the road. Then she looked +around her and shivered. The possibility of the pony's not going +straight to the Wigwam had not yet occurred to her, but she felt that +under any circumstances she was doomed to stay in the desert until +morning. They would be badly frightened at the Wigwam, and would rouse +the ranch to send out a searching-party, but they might as well look for +a needle in a haystack as to make an attempt to find her in the +darkness. She did not know where she was herself. She was within a +stone's throw of one of the buttes, out which one she could not tell. +She stood peering around her through the twilight with eager, dilated +eyes. A twig crackled near her, trampled underfoot by some little wild +creature as startled as she. The desert had seemed so still before, but +now it was full of strange whisperings and rustlings. Remembering what +Jack had told her when he showed her the nest shared by snakes and owls, +she dared not sit down for fear some snake should come crawling out of +the hole from which the owl had flown. She felt that it would be useless +to walk on, since every step might be carrying her farther away from the +Wigwam. + +How long she stood there in the road she could not tell, but presently +it seemed to her that it was growing lighter. She could see the outlines +of the butte more distinctly, and the sky behind it was growing +gradually luminous. Then she remembered that the moon would be up in a +little while, and her courage came back as she stood and waited. When +its round, familiar face came peeping up over the horizon, she felt as +if an old friend were smiling at her. + +"I'm neahly as glad to see you as if you were one of the family," she +said, aloud, with a little sob in her throat. The feeling that this was +the same moon that had looked down on her through the locusts, all her +life, and had even peeped through the windows and seen Mom Beck rocking +her to sleep in her baby days, gave her a sense of companionship that +was wonderfully comforting. + +It was tiresome standing in the road, and, as she dared not sit down and +risk finding snakes, she decided to climb up the side of the butte and +look out over the country. Maybe she might see the light from some ranch +house. At least on its rocky slope she would be freer from snakes than +down among the bushes and the owls' nests. + +Scrambling over a ledge of rock she stumbled upon a pile of tin cans and +broken bottles, which told of many past picnic parties near that spot. A +little higher up she clasped her hands with a cry of pleased +recognition. She was at the beginning of the great hole that led through +the rock. Only two nights before she had sat on that very boulder, and +speared olives out of a bottle with a hat-pin. There were their own +sardine cans, and the fragments of the teacup Hazel had dropped. A mound +of ashes and some charred sticks marked the spot where the camp-fire had +blazed. + +She looked around, wondering if by some happy chance Jo could have left +any matches. A brilliant idea had come to her of lighting a bonfire. She +knew that it could be seen from the ranch, and would draw attention to +her at once. A long search failed to show any stray matches, and she +wondered if she could find flint among the rocks, or how long it would +take to get fire by rubbing two sticks together. + +Some of the gruesome tales of Apache warfare that had been told around +the fire came back to her as she stood looking at the ashes, but she +resolutely turned her thoughts away from them, to the Indian school she +had seen the day before. It was wonderfully comforting to think of that +little Indian girl at the piano, patiently practising her five-finger +exercises, and of the Indian boy in the brass-buttoned uniform ploughing +in the fields. It made them seem so civilized and tame. The time of +tomahawks and tortures was long past, she assured herself, and there was +not nearly so much to fear from the peaceful Pimas and Maricopas as +there was sometimes from the negroes at home. + +So, quieting herself with such assurances, she climbed up to a +comfortable seat on a rock, where she could lean back against the +cavelike wall, and sat looking out through the great hole, as the moon +rose higher and higher in the heavens. Half an hour slipped by in +intense silence. Then her heart gave a thump of terror, so loud that she +heard the beating distinctly. There was a fierce, hot roaring in her +ears. + +Down at the foot of the butte, going swiftly along with moccasined +tread, was a stalwart Indian. Not one of the peaceful Pimas she had been +accustomed to seeing, but a cruel-mouthed, eagle-eyed Apache. At least +he looked like the pictures she had seen of Apaches. + +He had a lariat in his hand, and he stooped several times to examine the +tracks ahead of him, as if following a trail. Instantly there flashed +into Lloyd's mind what Mrs. Lee had told them about the Indians allowing +their ponies to run loose on the desert. Sometimes the settlers' +children used to catch them, and keep them all day to ride. But woe be +it, she said, if the owner tracked his pony to a settler's house before +it was turned loose. He always took his revenge. Lloyd was sure that +this was what the Indian was after, as she noticed the lariat, and the +way his keen eyes followed the trail. She almost held her breath as she +waited for him to pass on. But he did not pass. + +Throwing up his head he looked all around, and then, leaving the trail, +started swiftly up the butte toward her. Almost frozen with fear, Lloyd +drew back into the shadow, and, rolling over the ledge, drew herself +into as small a space as possible, crouching down to hide her white +dress. Through a crevice between the rocks she watched his approach with +wide, terrified gaze, sure that some savage instinct, like a +bloodhound's sense of smell, had warned him of her presence. + +For an instant, as he reached the remains of the camp-fire, he stood +motionless, looking out across the country, silhouetted darkly against +the sky, like the head on the leather cushion she was taking home to her +grandfather, she thought, or rather that she had intended to take. Maybe +she would never live to see her home again. + +She crouched still closer against the rock, rigid, tense, scarcely +breathing. With a grunt the Indian stooped, and began poking around +among the scraps left by the picnickers. He turned the blackened brands +with his foot, then moved farther along, attracted by the gleam of a bit +of broken bottle. Evidently the coyotes had been there before him, for +not a scrap was left of sandwiches or chicken bones; but, like the +coyotes, he knew from past experiences that it was profitable to prowl +where picnics were almost weekly occurrences. + +The gleam of something steely and bright caught his eye. Lloyd saw the +object flash in the moonlight as he picked it up. It was the +carving-knife Jo had dropped in his excitement, when he found the "lucky +cuts" on his forefingers. With another grunt he turned it this way and +that, examined the handle and tried the edge, and then looked stealthily +around. Lloyd closed her eyes lest the very intensity of their gaze +should draw him to her hiding-place. She knew that another step or two +would bring him to higher ground, where he could look over the ledge and +see her. + +How she ever lived through the moments that followed, she never knew. It +seemed to her that her heart had stopped beating, and she was growing +clammy and faint. It could not have been more than a few minutes, but it +seemed hours to her, when, the suspense growing unbearable, she opened +her eyes, and peered fearfully through the crack again. + +He had disappeared. Trembling so that she could scarcely stand, she +ventured, little by little, to raise herself until she could look over +the rock. Then she saw him moving leisurely down the path at the foot of +the butte. In a moment more he had reached the road, and, striding +along, he grew smaller and smaller to her sight till he disappeared +among the dark patches of sage-brush. + +Lloyd sank limply down among the rocks again, so exhausted by the +nervous strain that the tears began to come. The night was passing like +a hideous dream. Half an hour went by. She could hear the distant +barking of coyotes, and a nervous dread took possession of her, a fear +that their long, gaunt forms might come sneaking up the path after +awhile in search of other picnic leavings. She eyed the swaying shadows +apprehensively. + +Presently, as she sat and watched, tense and alert, she saw some one +coming along the wagon track far below. He was on horseback, and riding +slowly, as if enjoying the calm beauty of the night. She could hear him +whistling. As he reached the foot of the butte the whistling changed to +singing. The full, strong voice that rang out on the deathlike stillness +was wonderfully rich and sweet: + + "From the desert I come to thee!" + +It was the Bedouin song. Lloyd listened wonderingly, her lips half-open. +Was this part of the dream? she asked herself. Part of the strange, +unreal night? That was certainly Phil's voice, and yet it was past +belief that he should be riding by this out-of-the-way place at such an +hour of the night. But there was no mistaking the voice, nor the song +that had been haunting her memory for the last two days: + + "Till the sun grows cold, + And the stars are old." + +Lloyd hesitated no longer. Scrambling up from the rocks, she went +running down the steep path, calling at the top of her voice, "Phil! Oh, +Phil! Wait!" + +It was Phil's turn to think he was dreaming. Flying down the path with +her white dress fluttering behind her in the moonlight, and her long, +fair hair streaming loosely over her shoulder, Lloyd looked more +wraithlike than human, and to be confronted by such a figure in the +heart of a lonely desert was such a surprise that Phil could scarcely +believe that he saw aright. + +A moment more, and with both her cold, trembling little hands in his big +warm ones, Lloyd was sobbing out the story of her fright. The reaction +was so great when she found herself in his protecting presence, that she +could not keep back the tears. + +He swung her up into his saddle in the same brotherly way he had lifted +Mary into the cart, the day he found her running home from school, and +proceeded to comfort her in the same joking fashion. + +"This is the second time that I have been called on to play the bold +rescuer act. I'll begin to think soon that my mission in life is to +snatch fair maidens from the bloody scalpers of the plains." Then more +gently, as he saw how hard it was for her to control herself, he spoke +as he often spoke to Mary: + +"There, never mind, Lloyd. Don't cry. It's all right, little girl. We'll +soon be home. It's only a few miles from here. It isn't as late as you +think--only half-past eight." + +Slipping his watch back into his pocket, he began to explain how he +happened to be passing. He had stayed to supper at the camp where he had +gone to call on his new acquaintance, and had purposely waited for the +moon to come up before starting home. + +He had put the rein into her hands at first, but now, taking it himself, +he walked along beside her, leading the horse slowly homeward. With the +greatest tact, feeling that Lloyd would gain her self-possession sooner +if he did not talk to her, he began to sing again, half to himself, as +if unmindful of her presence, and of the little dabs she was making at +her eyes with a wet handkerchief. + +"Maid Elsie roams by lane and lea." It was the song that his old English +nurse had sung: + + "Kling! lang! ling! + She hears her bonny bride-bells ring." + +When he had sung it through, Lloyd's handkerchief was no longer making +hasty passes at her eyes. + +"I wonder what my little sister Elsie is doing to-night," he said. "That +song always makes me think of her." + +"Tell me about her," said Lloyd, who wanted a little more time to regain +her composure. He understood why she asked, and began to talk, simply to +divert her mind from her recent fright. But presently her eager +questions showed that she was interested, and he talked on, feeling that +it was good to have such an appreciative listener. He began to enjoy the +reminiscences himself, and as he talked, the old days seemed to draw +very near, till they gave him a homesick feeling for the old place that +would never welcome him again. It had gone to strangers, he told her, +and Aunt Patricia was dead. + +"Poor old Aunt Patricia," he added, after laughing over one of the +pranks they had played on her. "She never did understand boys. We tried +her patience terribly. She did the best she could for us, but I've +often thought how different it would have been if my mother had lived. I +had a letter from Daddy to-day, in answer to the one I wrote about +leaving school. It broke me all up. Made me think of the time when I was +a little fellow, and he rocked me to sleep one night when I had been +naughty, and explained why I ought to be a good boy. It almost made me +wish I could be a little kid again, and curl up in his arms, and tell +him I was sorry, and would turn over a new leaf." + +Lloyd liked the affectionate, almost wistful way in which he spoke of +his father as Daddy. Whatever indignation she had felt toward him was +wiped away by those confidences. And when he apologized presently, in +his most winning way, for not keeping his engagement, and told her +frankly what had prevented, she liked him better than she had done +before. She wondered how it could be so, but she felt now that she knew +him as well as Malcolm or Rob, and that their friendship was not the +growth of a few weeks, but that it reached back to the very beginning of +things. + +"You can't imagine what a fascination there is in seeing that roulette +wheel whirl around," he said, "but I'm done with that now. Daddy's +letter settled the question. And even if that hadn't come, I would have +stopped. I don't want to lose my precious turquoises--my friendship +stones," he added, meaningly. "I know how you and Joyce feel about it. +Look at old Alaka's eyes, twinkling up there over Camelback. They seem +to know that I have heeded their warning." + +Presently, as they went along, he glanced up at her with a smile. "Do +you know," he said, "you look just as you did the first time I saw you, +as you rode up to the gate at Locust, all in white, and on a black +horse. Maybe having your hair hanging loose as you did then makes me +think so. I never imagined then that I'd ever see you again, much less +find you away out here on the desert." + +"It is queah," answered Lloyd. "I thought I must be dreaming when I +heard you sing 'From the desert I come to thee.'" + +"And I certainly thought I was dreaming," answered Phil, "when, in +answer to my call, you appeared all in white. You could have knocked me +down with a feather, for an instant. I was startled. Then I thanked my +lucky stars that led me your way." + +He began again humming the Bedouin song. Lloyd, looking out across the +wide, moonlighted desert and up at the twinkling stars, wondered if it +was fate that had brought him to her rescue; if it could be possible +that through him was to come the happiness written for her in the stars. + +"There's the Wigwam light," said Phil, presently, pausing in his song to +point it out to her. "We're almost there. I'll never forget this +adventure--till--" He took up the refrain again, smiling into her eyes +as he hummed it. The refrain that was to ring through Lloyd's memory for +many a year to come, whenever she thought of this ride across the +moonlighted desert: + + "_Till the sun grows cold, + And the stars are old, + And the leaves of the Judgment + Book unfold!_" + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +BACK TO DIXIE + + +THERE was another mark on the kitchen calendar now; not a red star, +betokening some happy event to come, but a deep black border, drawn all +around the date on which Lloyd's visit was to end. The heavy black lines +marked the time as only a few days distant. + +It was Saturday again, a week after the excursion to the Indian school. +Joyce had gone down to the ranch, for Mr. Armond to criticize the +drawings which she had made since the last lesson, and Lloyd, on the +seat under the willows, was waiting for Phil. He was to come at four, +and ride over to one of the neighbouring orange groves with her. + +She had a book in her hand, but she was not reading. She was listening +to the water gurgle through the little water-gate into the lateral, and +thinking of all that had happened during her visit, especially since +the night she was lost on the desert, and Phil had found her. + +Monday he had spent the entire day at the Wigwam, and, since Joyce had +forbidden him to come near the spot where the washing was in progress, +he and Lloyd had brought a jar of paste and the little wicker table down +to this very seat under the willows, and had mounted all her photographs +in the book she had bought for the purpose. There were over a hundred, +beginning with a view of the Wigwam and ending with the four laughing +faces around the table on the balcony of Coffee Al's restaurant. There +was Lloyd on her pony, coming back from the duck hunt, and again in the +act of dropping her cherry tart. There was Mary in the hammock watching +the bees, Jack in his irrigating boots, and Holland on a burro. There +were a dozen different pictures of Joyce, and family groups, and picnic +groups, in which was represented every acquaintance Lloyd had made in +Arizona. Turning the pages was like living over the pleasant days again, +for they brought the scenes vividly before her. + +When the last picture was mounted, Phil proposed that they write an +appropriate quotation under each one. So they spent another hour over +that, Phil suggesting most of them, and at Lloyd's request writing the +inscriptions himself in his strong, dashing hand. Some of his apt +phrases and clever parodies seemed really brilliant to Lloyd, and they +had laughed and joked over them in a way that had ripened their +friendship as weeks of ordinary intercourse would not have done. + +"Do you know," he said, when the last inscription was written, "I've +kept count, and I'm in twenty-five of these pictures. You won't have +much chance to forget me, will you? I haven't put my collection in a +book, but I have a better reminder of this last month than all these put +together." + +Opening the little locket that hung from his watch-fob, he held it +toward her, just long enough for her to catch a glimpse of her own face +within it. Then, closing the locket with a snap, he put the fob back in +its place. It was a picture he had taken of her one day as she sat on +this same seat under the willows, watching Aunt Emily braid an Indian +basket. He had cut out a tiny circle containing her head, from the rest +of the group, just the size to fit in the locket. + +Lloyd, leaning forward unsuspectingly to look at it, was so surprised at +seeing her own picture that a deep blush stole slowly over her face, +and she drew back in confusion, not knowing what to say. If he had +asked her permission to put her picture in his locket, she would have +refused as decidedly as she had refused Malcolm the tip of a curl to +carry in his watch. + +But Phil had not asked for anything; had not said a word to which she +could reply as she had replied to Malcolm. He had showed her the locket +in the same matter-of-course way that Rob had showed her the four-leafed +clover which he carried. Yet deep down in her heart she knew that there +was a difference. She knew that her father would not like Phil to have +her picture in his locket, but she didn't know how to tell him so. + +It was only an instant that she sat in shy, embarrassed silence, with +her heart in a flutter, and her eyes fastened on the book of photographs +which she was fingering nervously. Then Jack came out with a pitcher of +lemonade, and the opportunity to speak passed. She hadn't the courage to +bring up the subject afterward. + +"Phil might think that I think that it means moah than it does," she +told herself. "He weahs the pictuah just as he would Elsie's, and if I +tell him that I don't want him to, he'll think that I think that he +cares for me the way that Malcolm does. I don't suppose that it really +makes any difference whethah he has it in his locket or not." + +He did not mention it again, but it did make a difference. The +consciousness of it embarrassed her whenever she met his eyes. She +wondered if Joyce noticed. + +Tuesday he came again, and read aloud all morning while they ironed. +Wednesday he spent the day without bringing anything as an excuse. +Thursday he rode with them over to the Indian reservation. Her pony had +been brought back to her the day after it ran away. When he left them at +the Wigwam that evening he said that he would not be back the next day +as he had to go to Phoenix, but that he would be up Saturday afternoon +to ride with Lloyd to the orange grove while Joyce took her +drawing-lesson. + +It was of all this that Lloyd was thinking now, as she sat under the +willows. And she was thinking, too, of the tale Mrs. Walton told her of +The Three Weavers; the tale that had been the cause of the Shadow Club +turning itself into the Order of Hildegarde. + +Mrs. Walton had spoken truly when she said that "Little girls begin very +early sometimes to dream about that far-away land of Romance." Lloyd's +dreams might not have begun so soon, perhaps, had it not been for the +meetings of the Shadow Club at boarding-school, when Ida Shane fired +their imaginations with the stories of "Daisy Dale" and "The Heiress of +Dorn," and made Lloyd the bearer of her letters to her "Edwardo." The +unhappy ending of Ida's romance had been a grave warning to Lloyd, and +the story of Hildegarde in the Three Weavers was often in her thoughts. +Part of it floated through her memory now, as she realized, with a +start, how large a place Phil had occupied in her thoughts the last +week. + +"Hildegarde worked on, true to her promise, but there came a time when a +face shone across her mirror, so noble and fair that she started back in +a flutter. 'Oh, surely, 'tis he!' she whispered to her father. 'His eyes +are so blue they fill all my dreams!' But old Hildgardmar answered her, +'Does he measure up to the standard set by the sterling yardstick for a +prince to be?'" + +"That is just what Papa Jack would ask," mused Lloyd. "And he'd say that +little girls outgrow their ideals as they do their dresses, and that if +I'm not careful that I'll make the same mistake that Hertha and Huberta +did. Besides, there's my New Yeah's promise!" + +For a moment she ceased to hear the gurgle of the water, and heard +instead the ticking of the clock in the long drawing-room at Locust, as +she and Papa Jack kept watch beside the embers, waiting for the old year +to die and the new one to dawn. And in the solemn hush she heard her own +voice repeating Hildegarde's promise: + +"_You may trust me, fathah, I will not cut the golden warp from out the +loom until I, a woman grown, have woven such a web as thou thyself shalt +say is worthy of a prince's wearing!_" + +A woman grown! And she was not yet quite fourteen! + +"I'll not be the only one of all the Lloyds that can't be trusted to +keep a promise," she said, aloud, with a proud lifting of the head. +Resolutely shaking herself free from the day-dreaming that had been so +pleasant, she picked up her book and started to the house. + +Listening to Aunt Emily's conversation over her stocking darning, about +the commonplace happenings of the household, was not half so +entertaining as letting her thoughts stray back to the moonlight ride, +to the smile in Phil's eyes as he showed her the locket, or the sound of +his voice as he sang, "From the desert I come to thee." There were a +dozen such memories, so pleasant to dwell upon that a girl of less +will-power would not have pushed them aside. Even Lloyd found it +difficult to do. + +"It's like trying to drive away a flock of cherry birds," she thought. +"They keep coming back no matter how often you say _shoo_! But I won't +let them stay." + +Such a resolution was easier to make than to keep, especially as she was +expecting to see Phil ride up to the door at any moment. But the time +set for his coming passed, and when a step on the bridge made her glance +up, it was Joyce she saw, walking along slowly. Usually she danced in +after her lesson-hour with Mr. Armond in the gayest of spirits. To-day +it was apparent that she was the bearer of bad news. + +"Oh, mamma!" she began, dropping her sketches on the table, and fumbling +to find her hat-pin. "They're all so worried down at the ranch, over +Phil! Mrs. Lee says he went to town yesterday morning, expecting to be +back in time for dinner, but he hasn't come yet. Jo went in on his +wheel, last night, and he saw him at one of those places where they play +faro, and all those games, and he was so excited over his winnings that +he didn't even see Jo, although he stood and watched him ever so long. +This morning Mr. Ellestad went in, and he came across him, wandering +about the streets. He had lost not only every cent he had deposited in +the bank, but he put up his horse, and lost that, too. He didn't have +any way to get out to the ranch. + +"He wouldn't drive out with Mr. Ellestad. He was so mortified and +disgusted with himself that he said he couldn't face them all. He said +his father would never trust him again, and that he had lost not only +his father's confidence, but our respect and friendship. He said he was +going to look for work of some kind, he didn't care what, and it didn't +make any difference what became of him now. + +"Mr. Ellestad left him at a hotel, and he felt so sorry for him that, +tired as he was, he rode over to Tempe, after he got home, to see a +friend of his who is a civil engineer. This friend is going to start on +an expedition next week, surveying for some canals. Mr. Ellestad +persuaded him to take Phil in his party, and give him some work. Phil +said he didn't intend to touch a cent of his usual monthly allowance +until he had earned back all he lost. Mr. Ellestad telephoned to him +from Tempe, and he is to start in a few days. Mrs. Lee says that losing +everything is the best thing that could have happened to Phil. It's +taught him a lesson he'll never forget; and this surveyor is just the +sort of a man he ought to be with,--clean, and honourable, and strong." + +As Joyce finished her excited telling with these familiar words, the +colour that had faded completely out of Lloyd's face rushed back again. +"Clean, and honourable, and strong!" These were the standards of the +yardstick that Papa Jack had given her. How far Phil had failed to +measure up to the last two notches, and yet-- + +Mrs. Ware finished the unspoken sentence for her. + +"He is so young that I can't help feeling that, with something to keep +him busy and some one to take a helpful interest in him, he will turn +out all right. He has so many fine traits, I am sure they will prevail +in the end, and that he will make a manly man, after all." + +Joyce openly wiped away the tears that came at the thought of this +ending to their happy comradeship, but Lloyd stole away to the tent to +hide her face in her pillow, and sob out the disappointment of her sore +little heart. She would never see him again, she told herself, and they +had had _such_ good times together, and she was so sorry that he had +proved so weak. + +Presently, as she lay there, she heard Holland come clattering up on +the pony, inquiring for her. He had killed a snake, she could hear him +telling his mother, and had brought it home to skin for Lloyd. It was a +beautifully marked diamond-back with ten rattles, and now she could have +a purse and a hat-band, like some she had admired in Phoenix. + +Lloyd listened, languidly. "An hour ago," she thought, "I would have +been out there the instant I heard him call. I would have been admiring +the snake and thanking him for it and asking a hundred questions about +how he got it. But now--somehow--everything seems so different." + +She started up as he began calling her. "I wish he'd let me alone," she +exclaimed, impatiently. "Aunt Emily will think it strange if I don't +answer, for she knows I'm out heah, but I don't feel like talking to +anybody or taking an interest in anything, and I don't want to go out +there!" + +The call came again. She drew back the tent-flap and looked out. "I'll +be there in a minute, Holland," she answered, trying to keep the +impatience out of her voice. As she went over to the wash-stand to bathe +her eyes, she brushed a magazine from the table in passing. It was the +one Phil had brought up several days before to read aloud. She replaced +it carefully, almost as one touches the belongings of some one who is +dead. + +There were so many things around the tent to remind her of him, it would +be almost impossible to keep him out of her thoughts. She confessed to +herself that it was growing very hard to keep her Hildegarde promise. +She started to whisper it as one might repeat some strengthening charm: +"You may trust me, fathah--" She stopped with a sob. This sudden ending +of their happy companionship was going to shadow all the rest of her +visit. + +As her eyes met her reflection in the little mirror hanging against the +side of the tent, she lifted her head with determination, and looked at +it squarely. + +"I _will_ stop thinking about it all the time!" she said, defiantly, to +the answering eyes. "It will spoil all my visit if I don't. I'll do the +way the bees do when things get into the hive that have no right there. +I'll seal it up tight as I can, and go on filling the other cells with +honey,--doing things that will be pleasant to remember by and by. I'll +_make_ myself take an interest in something else!" + +The same spirit that looked from the eyes of the proud old portraits at +home looked back at her now from the eyes in the mirror--that strong, +indomitable spirit of her ancestors, that could rise even to the +conquering of that hardest of all enemies, self, when occasion demanded +it. + +Running out to the wood-pile, where Holland impatiently awaited her, she +threw herself into the interests of the hour so resolutely that she was +soon absorbed in its happenings. By the time the snake was skinned, and +the skin tacked to the side of the house to dry, she had gained a +victory that left her stronger for all her life to come. She had +compelled herself to take an interest in the affairs of others, when she +wanted to mope and dream. Instead of an hour of selfish musing in her +tent, she had had an hour of wholesome laughter and chatter outside. It +would be a pleasant time to look back upon, too, she thought, +complacently, remembering Mary's amusing efforts to help skin the snake, +and all the funny things that had been said. + +"Well, that hour's memory-cell is filled all right," Lloyd thought. +"I'll see how much moah honey I can store away befoah I leave." + +There was not much more time, for Mr. Sherman came soon, with the +announcement that they would leave in two days. Numerous letters had +passed between the Wigwam and the mines, so Lloyd knew what was going +to happen when her father arranged for her and Joyce to spend part of +one of those days in town. She knew that when they came back they would +find a long rustic arbour built in the rear of the tents--a rough shack +of cottonwood poles supporting a thatch of bamboo and palm-leaves. +Underneath would be a dozen or more hives, humming with thousands of +golden-banded bees. And for all the rest of their little lives these +bees would spend their "shining hours" in helping Joyce on toward easier +times and the City of her Desire. + +Something else happened that day while they were in town. Phil made his +last visit before starting away with the surveying party. Nobody knew +what passed between him and Aunt Emily in the old Wigwam sitting-room, +but he came out from the interview smiling, so full of hope and purpose +that her whispered _Godspeed_ seemed already to have found an answer. + +She told the girls afterward a little of their conversation. His +ambition was aroused at last, she said. He was going to work hard all +summer, and in the fall go back to school. Not the military academy, but +a college where he could take the technical course this friend of Mr. +Ellestad recommended. Phil admired this man immensely, and she was sure +that his influence would be exceedingly helpful. She was sure, too, that +he would be all right now, and he had promised to write to her every +week. + +As Phil came out of the Wigwam he heard Mary's voice, in a sort of happy +little chant, as she watched the settling of the bees in their new home. +She had heard nothing of Phil's troubles, and did not know that he was +going away until he told her. + +"I want you to tell Lloyd and Joyce something for me," he said. + +"Try to remember just these words, please. Tell them that I said: 'Alaka +has lost his precious turquoises, but _he will win them back again, some +day_!' Can you remember to say just that?" + +Mary nodded, gravely. "Yes," she said, "I'll tell them." Then her lip +trembled. "But I don't want you to go away!" she exclaimed, the tears +beginning to come. "Aren't you ever coming back?" + +"Not for a long time," he answered, looking away toward old Camelback. +"Not till I've learned the lesson that you told me about, the first time +I saw you, that day on the train, to be inflexible. When I'm strong +enough to keep stiff in the face of any temptation, then I'll come back. +Good-bye, little Vicar!" + +Stooping, he kissed her gently on each plump cheek, and turned hastily +away. She watched him go off down the road through a blur of tears. Then +she rubbed her sleeve across her eyes. He had turned to look back, and, +seeing the disconsolate little figure gazing after him, waved his hat. +There was something so cheery and hopeful in the swing he gave it, that +Mary smiled through her tears, and answered with an energetic fluttering +of her white sunbonnet, swung high by its one string. + + * * * * * + +Joyce's delight on her return, when she found the long row of hives, was +something good to see. She could hardly speak at first, and walked from +one hive to another, touching each as she passed, as if to assure +herself that it was really there, and really hers. + +"Joyce is so bee-wildered by her good fortune that she is almost +bee-side herself," said Holland, when he had watched her start on her +third round of inspection. + +"That's the truth," laughed Joyce, turning to face Lloyd and her father. +"I'm so happy that I don't know what I'm doing, and I can't begin to +thank you properly till I've settled down a little." + +There was no need of spoken thanks when her face was so eloquent. Even +the mistakes she made in setting the supper-table spoke for her. In her +excitement she gave Mr. Sherman two forks and no knife, and Lloyd three +spoons and no fork. She made the coffee in the teapot, and put the +butter in a pickle-dish. Only Mary's warning cry saved her from skimming +the cream into the syrup-pitcher, and she sugared everything she cooked +instead of salting it. + +"Oh, I'm sorry," she cried, when her mistakes were discovered, "but if +you were as happy as I am you'd go around with your head in the clouds +too." + +After supper she said to Mr. Sherman, as they walked out to the hives +again, "You see, I'd been thinking all day how much I am going to miss +Lloyd, and what a Road of the Loving Heart she's left behind her on this +visit. We've enjoyed every minute of it, and we'll talk of the things +she's said and done for months. Then I came home to find that she's left +not only a road behind her, but one that will reach through all the +years ahead, a road that will lead straight through to what I have set +my heart on doing. I'm going into bee culture with all my might and +main, now, and make a fortune out of it. There'll be time enough after +that to carry out my other plans. + +"To think," she added, as Lloyd joined them, "when I first came to the +Wigwam I was so lonesome and discontented that I wanted to die. Now I +wouldn't change places with any other girl in the universe." + +"Not even with me?" cried Lloyd, in surprise, thinking of all she had +and all that she had done. + +"No, not even with you," answered Joyce, quoting, softly, "For me the +desert holds more than kings' houses could offer." + +The last two days of Lloyd's visit went by in a whirl. As she drove away +with her father, in the open carriage that had been sent out of town for +them, she stood up to look back and wave her handkerchief to the little +group under the pepper-trees, as long as the Wigwam was in sight. Then +she kept turning to look back at old Camelback Mountain, until it, too, +faded from sight in the fading day. Then she settled down beside her +father, and looked up at him with a satisfied smile. + +"Somehow I feel as if my visit is ending like the good old +fairy-tales--'They all lived happily evah aftah.' Joyce is _so_ happy +ovah the bees and Mr. Armond's lessons. Aunt Emily is lots bettah, the +boys have so much to hope for since you promised to help Holland get +into the Navy, and make a place for Jack at the mines. As for Mary, she +is so blissful ovah the prospect of a visit to Locust next yeah, that +she can't talk of anything else." + +"And what about my little Hildegarde?" asked Mr. Sherman. "Did the visit +do anything for her?" + +"Yes," said Lloyd, growing grave as the name Hildegarde recalled the +promise that had been so hard to keep, and the victory she had won over +herself the day she turned away from her day-dreams and her +disappointment to interest herself in other things. She felt that the +bees had shown her a road to happiness that would lead her out of many a +trouble in the years to come. She had only to follow their example, seal +up whatever had no right in her life's hive, or whatever was spoiling +her happiness, and fill the days with other interests. + +"Oh, I'm lots wiseah than when I came," she said, aloud. "I've learned +to make pies and coffee, and to i'on, and to weave Indian baskets." + +"Is that the height of your ambition?" was the teasing reply. "You don't +soar as high as Joyce and Betty." + +"Oh, Papa Jack, I know you'll be disappointed in me, but, honestly, I +can't help it! I haven't any big ambitions. Seems to me I'd be contented +always, just to be you'ah deah little daughtah, and not do any moah than +just gathah up each day's honey as it comes and lay up a hive full of +sweet memories for myself and othah people." + +"That suits me exactly," he answered, with an approving nod. "Contented +people are the most comfortable sort to live with, and such an ambition +as yours will do more good in your little corner of the world than all +the books you could write or pictures you could paint." + +The engine was steaming on the track when they drove up to the station. +Waffles, the coloured man whom Mr. Robeson had brought with him as cook, +hung over the railing of the rear platform, whistling "Going Back to +Dixie." + +"How good that sounds!" exclaimed Lloyd, as her father helped her up the +steps. "Now that we are really headed for home, I can hardly wait to get +back to the Valley and tell mothah and Betty about my visit. I don't +believe anybody in the whole world has as many good times to remembah as +I have. Or as many good times to look forward to," she added, later, +when, with a mighty snorting and puffing, the engine steamed slowly out +of the station, and started on its long homeward journey. + +As they rumbled on, she began picturing her arrival, the welcome at the +station, and her meeting with her mother and Betty and the Walton girls. +How much she had to tell them all, and how many delightful meetings she +would have with the club! Her birthday was only two months away. Then +the locusts would be white with bloom, and after that vacation. With the +coming of summer-time to the Valley would come Rob to measure with her +at the measuring-tree, to play tennis, and to share whatever the long +summer days held in store. + +With a vague sense that all sorts of pleasantness awaited her there, her +thoughts turned eagerly toward Kentucky. Even the car-wheels seemed to +creak in pleased anticipation, and keep time to the tune she hummed half +under her breath: + + "My heart turns back to Dixie, + And I--must--go!" + +THE END. + + + + +BOOKS FOR YOUNG PEOPLE + + + THE LITTLE COLONEL BOOKS + (Trade Mark) + +_By ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON_ + + Each 1 vol., large 12mo, cloth decorative, per vol. $1.50 + + + =The Little Colonel Stories.= + (Trade Mark) + +Illustrated. + +Being three "Little Colonel" stories in the Cosy Corner Series, "The +Little Colonel," "Two Little Knights of Kentucky," and "The Giant +Scissors," put into a single volume. + + + =The Little Colonel's House Party.= + (Trade Mark) + +Illustrated by Louis Meynell. + + + =The Little Colonel's Holidays.= + (Trade Mark) + +Illustrated by L. J. Bridgman. + + + =The Little Colonel's Hero.= + (Trade Mark) + +Illustrated by E. B. Barry. + + + =The Little Colonel at Boarding School.= + (Trade Mark) + +Illustrated by E. B. Barry. + + + =The Little Colonel in Arizona.= + (Trade Mark) + +Illustrated by E. B. Barry. + + + =The Little Colonel's Christmas Vacation.= + (Trade Mark) + +Illustrated by E. B. Barry. + + + =The Little Colonel, Maid of Honour.= + (Trade Mark) + +Illustrated by E. B. Barry. + + + =The Little Colonel.= + (Trade Mark) + + =Two Little Knights of Kentucky.= + + =The Giant Scissors.= + + =Big Brother.= + + +Special Holiday Editions + +Each one volume, cloth decorative, small quarto, $1.25. + +New plates, handsomely illustrated, with eight full-page drawings in +color. + +"The books are as satisfactory to the small girls, who find them +adorable, as for the mothers and librarians, who delight in their +influence."--_Christian Register._ + + These four volumes, boxed as a four volume set $5.00 + + + =In the Desert of Waiting=: THE LEGEND OF CAMELBACK + MOUNTAIN. + + + =The Three Weavers=: A FAIRY TALE FOR FATHERS AND + MOTHERS AS WELL AS FOR THEIR DAUGHTERS. + + + =Keeping Tryst.= + + + =The Legend of the Bleeding Heart.= + + Each one volume, tall 16mo, cloth decorative $0.50 + Paper boards .35 + +There has been a constant demand for publication in separate form of +these four stories, which were originally included in four of the +"Little Colonel" books. + + + =Joel: A Boy of Galilee.= By ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON. + Illustrated by L. J. Bridgman. + + New illustrated edition, uniform with the Little Colonel + Books, 1 vol., large 12mo, cloth decorative $1.50 + +A story of the time of Christ, which is one of the author's best-known +books. + + + =Asa Holmes=; OR, AT THE CROSS-ROADS. A sketch of + Country Life and Country Humor. By ANNIE FELLOWS + JOHNSTON. With a frontispiece by Ernest Fosbery. + + Large 16mo, cloth, gilt top $1.00 + +"'Asa Holmes; or, At the Cross-Roads' is the most delightful, most +sympathetic and wholesome book that has been published in a long +while."--_Boston Times._ + + + =The Rival Campers=; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF HENRY + BURNS. By RUEL PERLEY SMITH. + + Square 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated $1.50 + +Here is a book which will grip and enthuse every boy reader. It is the +story of a party of typical American lads, courageous, alert, and +athletic, who spend a summer camping on an island off the Maine coast. + +"The best boys' book since 'Tom Sawyer.'"--_San Francisco Examiner._ + + + =The Rival Campers Afloat=; OR, THE PRIZE YACHT + VIKING. By RUEL PERLEY SMITH. + + Square 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated $1.50 + +This book is a continuation of the adventures of "The Rival Campers" on +their prize yacht _Viking_. An accidental collision results in a series +of exciting adventures, culminating in a mysterious chase, the loss of +their prize yacht, and its recapture by means of their old yacht, +_Surprise_. + + + =The Rival Campers Ashore.= By RUEL PERLEY SMITH, + author of "The Rival Campers," "The Rival Campers + Afloat," etc. + + Square 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated $1.50 + +"The Rival Campers Ashore" deals with the adventures of the campers and +their friends in and around the town of Benton. Mr. Smith introduces a +new character,--a girl,--who shows them the way to an old mill, around +which the mystery of the story revolves. The girl is an admirable +acquisition, proving as daring and resourceful as the campers +themselves. + + + =The Young Section-Hand=; OR, THE ADVENTURES OF ALLAN + WEST. By BURTON E. STEVENSON, author of "The Marathon + Mystery," etc. + + Square 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated by L. J. Bridgman $1.50 + +Mr. Stevenson's hero is a manly lad of sixteen, who is given a chance as +a section-hand on a big Western railroad, and whose experiences are as +real as they are thrilling. + + + =The Young Train Dispatcher.= By BURTON E. STEVENSON, + author of "The Young Section-hand," etc. + + Square 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated $1.50 + +The young hero has many chances to prove his manliness and courage in +the exciting adventures which befall him in the discharge of his duty. + + + =Captain Jack Lorimer.= By WINN STANDISH. + + Square 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated by A. B. Shute $1.50 + +Jack is a fine example of the all-around American high-school boy. He +has the sturdy qualities boys admire, and his fondness for clean, honest +sport of all kinds will strike a chord of sympathy among athletic +youths. + + + =Jack Lorimer's Champions=; or, Sports on Land and + Lake. By WINN STANDISH, author of "Captain Jack + Lorimer," etc. + + Square 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated $1.50 + +All boys and girls who take an interest in school athletics will wish to +read of the exploits of the Millvale High School students, under the +leadership of Captain Jack Lorimer. + +Captain Jack's Champions play quite as good ball as do some of the teams +on the large leagues, and they put all opponents to good hard work in +other summer sports. + +Jack Lorimer and his friends stand out as the finest examples of +all-round American high school boys and girls. + + + =Beautiful Joe's Paradise=; OR, THE ISLAND OF + BROTHERLY LOVE. A sequel to "Beautiful Joe." By + MARSHALL SAUNDERS, author of "Beautiful Joe." + + One vol., library 12mo, cloth, illustrated $1.50 + +"This book revives the spirit of 'Beautiful Joe' capitally. It is fairly +riotous with fun, and as a whole is about as unusual as anything in the +animal book line that has seen the light. It is a book for +juveniles--old and young."--_Philadelphia Item._ + + + ='Tilda Jane.= By MARSHALL SAUNDERS. + + One vol., 12mo, fully illustrated, cloth decorative, $1.50 + +"It is one of those exquisitely simple and truthful books that win and +charm the reader, and I did not put it down until I had finished +it--honest! And I am sure that every one, young or old, who reads will +be proud and happy to make the acquaintance of the delicious waif. + + "I cannot think of any better book for children than + this. I commend it unreservedly."--_Cyrus Townsend + Brady._ + + + =The Story of the Graveleys.= By MARSHALL SAUNDERS, + author of "Beautiful Joe's Paradise," "'Tilda Jane," + etc. + + Library 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated by E. B. Barry $1.50 + +Here we have the haps and mishaps, the trials and triumphs, of a +delightful New England family, of whose devotion and sturdiness it will +do the reader good to hear. + + + =Born to the Blue.= By FLORENCE KIMBALL RUSSEL. + + 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated $1.25 + +The atmosphere of army life on the plains breathes on every page of this +delightful tale. The boy is the son of a captain of U. S. cavalry +stationed at a frontier post in the days when our regulars earned the +gratitude of a nation. + + + =In West Point Gray.= By FLORENCE KIMBALL RUSSEL. + + 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated $1.25 + +West Point forms the background for the second volume in this series, +and gives us the adventures of Jack as a cadet. Here the training of his +childhood days in the frontier army post stands him in good stead; and +he quickly becomes the central figure of the West Point life. + + + =The Sandman; His Farm Stories.= By WILLIAM J. + HOPKINS. With fifty illustrations by Ada Clendenin + Williamson. + + Large 12mo, decorative cover $1.50 + +"An amusing, original book, written for the benefit of very small +children. It should be one of the most popular of the year's books for +reading to small children."--_Buffalo Express._ + + + =The Sandman: More Farm Stories.= By WILLIAM J. + HOPKINS. + + Large 12mo, decorative cover, fully illustrated $1.50 + +Mr. Hopkins's first essay at bedtime stories met with such approval that +this second book of "Sandman" tales was issued for scores of eager +children. Life on the farm, and out-of-doors, is portrayed in his +inimitable manner. + + + =The Sandman: His Ship Stories.= By WILLIAM J. + HOPKINS, author of "The Sandman: His Farm Stories," + etc. + + Large 12mo, decorative cover, fully illustrated $1.50 + +"Mothers and fathers and kind elder sisters who put the little ones to +bed, and rack their brains for stories, will find this book a +treasure."--_Cleveland Leader._ + + "Children call for these stories over and over + again."--_Chicago Evening Post._ + + + =Pussy-Cat Town.= By MARION AMES TAGGART. + + Small quarto, cloth decorative, illustrated and decorated + in colors $1.00 + +"Pussy-Cat Town" is a most unusual delightful cat story. Ban-Ban, a pure +Maltese who belonged to Rob, Kiku-san, Lois's beautiful snow white pet, +and their neighbors Bedelia the tortoise-shell, Madame Laura the widow, +Wutz Butz the warrior, and wise old Tommy Traddles, were really and +truly cats. + + + =The Roses of Saint Elizabeth.= By JANE SCOTT + WOODRUFF, author of "The Little Christmas Shoe." + + Small quarto, cloth decorative, illustrated and decorated in + colors by Adelaide Everhart $1.00 + +This is a charming little story of a child whose father was caretaker of +the great castle of the Wartburg, where Saint Elizabeth once had her +home. + + + =Gabriel and the Hour Book.= By EVALEEN STEIN. + + Small quarto, cloth decorative, illustrated and decorated in + colors by Adelaide Everhart $1.00 + +Gabriel was a loving, patient, little French lad, who assisted the monks +in the long ago days, when all the books were written and illuminated by +hand, in the monasteries. + + + =The Enchanted Automobile.= Translated from the French + by MARY J. SAFFORD. + + Small quarto, cloth decorative, illustrated and decorated in + colors by Edna M. Sawyer $1.00 + +The enchanted automobile was sent by the fairy godmother of a lazy, +discontented little prince and princess to take them to fairyland, where +they might visit their storybook favorites. + + + =The Red Feathers.= By THEODORE ROBERTS, author of + "Brothers of Peril," etc. + + Cloth decorative, illustrated $1.50 + +"The Red Feathers" tells of the remarkable adventures of an Indian boy +who lived in the Stone Age, many years ago, when the world was young, +and when fairies and magicians did wonderful things for their friends +and enemies. + + + =The Wreck of the Ocean Queen.= By JAMES OTIS, author + of "Larry Hudson's Ambition," etc. + + Cloth decorative, illustrated $1.50 + +This story takes its readers on a sea voyage around the world; gives +them a trip on a treasure ship; an exciting experience in a terrific +gale; and finally a shipwreck, with a mutineering crew determined to +take the treasure to complicate matters. + +But only the mutineers will come to serious harm, and after the reader +has known the thrilling excitement of lack of food and water, of attacks +by night and day, and of a hand-to-hand fight, he is rescued and brought +safely home again,--to realize that it's only a story, but a stirring +and realistic one. + + + =Little White Indians.= By FANNIE E. OSTRANDER. + + Cloth decorative, illustrated $1.25 + +The "Little White Indians" were two families of children who "played +Indian" all one long summer vacation. They built wigwams and made camps; +they went hunting and fought fierce battles on the war-trail. + +A bright, interesting story which will appeal strongly to the +"make-believe" instinct in children, and will give them a healthy, +active interest in "the simple life." + + + + +PHYLLIS' FIELD FRIENDS SERIES + +_By LENORE E. MULETS_ + + +Six vols., cloth decorative, illustrated by Sophie Schneider. Sold +separately, or as a set. + + Per volume $1.00 + Per set 6.00 + + =Insect Stories.= + =Stories of Little Animals.= + =Flower Stories.= + =Bird Stories.= + =Tree Stories.= + =Stories of Little Fishes.= + +In this series of six little Nature books, it is the author's intention +so to present to the child reader the facts about each particular +flower, insect, bird, or animal, in story form, as to make delightful +reading. Classical legends, myths, poems, and songs are so introduced as +to correlate fully with these lessons, to which the excellent +illustrations are no little help. + + + + +THE WOODRANGER TALES + +_By G. WALDO BROWNE_ + + + =The Woodranger.= + =The Young Gunbearer.= + =The Hero of the Hills.= + =With Rogers' Rangers.= + + Each 1 vol., large 12mo, cloth, decorative cover, + illustrated, per volume $1.25 + Four vols., boxed, per set 5.00 + +"The Woodranger Tales," like the "Pathfinder Tales" of J. Fenimore +Cooper, combine historical information relating to early pioneer days in +America with interesting adventures in the backwoods. Although the same +characters are continued throughout the series, each book is complete in +itself, and, while based strictly on historical facts, is an interesting +and exciting tale of adventure. + + + + +THE LITTLE COUSIN SERIES + + +The most delightful and interesting accounts possible of child life in +other lands, filled with quaint sayings, doings, and adventures. + +Each one vol., 12mo, decorative cover, cloth, with six or more full-page +illustrations in color. + + Price per volume $0.60 + +_By MARY HAZELTON WADE_ (_unless otherwise indicated_) + + =Our Little African Cousin= + =Our Little Alaskan Cousin= By Mary F. Nixon-Roulet + =Our Little Arabian Cousin= By Blanche McManus + =Our Little Armenian Cousin= + =Our Little Brown Cousin= + =Our Little Canadian Cousin= By Elizabeth R. Macdonald + =Our Little Chinese Cousin= By Isaac Taylor Headland + =Our Little Cuban Cousin= + =Our Little Dutch Cousin= By Blanche McManus + =Our Little English Cousin= By Blanche McManus + =Our Little Eskimo Cousin= + =Our Little French Cousin= By Blanche McManus + =Our Little German Cousin= + =Our Little Hawaiian Cousin= + =Our Little Hindu Cousin= By Blanche McManus + =Our Little Indian Cousin= + =Our Little Irish Cousin= + =Our Little Italian Cousin= + =Our Little Japanese Cousin= + =Our Little Jewish Cousin= + =Our Little Korean Cousin= By H. Lee M. Pike + =Our Little Mexican Cousin= By Edward C. Butler + =Our Little Norwegian Cousin= + =Our Little Panama Cousin= By H. Lee M. Pike + =Our Little Philippine Cousin= + =Our Little Porto Rican Cousin= + =Our Little Russian Cousin= + =Our Little Scotch Cousin= By Blanche McManus + =Our Little Siamese Cousin= + =Our Little Spanish Cousin= By Mary F. Nixon-Roulet + =Our Little Swedish Cousin= By Claire M. Coburn + =Our Little Swiss Cousin= + =Our Little Turkish Cousin= + + + + +COSY CORNER SERIES + + + It is the intention of the publishers that this series + shall contain only the very highest and purest + literature,--stories that shall not only appeal to the + children themselves, but be appreciated by all those + who feel with them in their joys and sorrows. + + The numerous illustrations in each book are by + well-known artists, and each volume has a separate + attractive cover design. + + Each 1 vol., 16mo, cloth $0.50 + + + + +_By ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON_ + +=The Little Colonel.= (Trade Mark.) + + +The scene of this story is laid in Kentucky. Its heroine is a small +girl, who is known as the Little Colonel, on account of her fancied +resemblance to an old-school Southern gentleman, whose fine estate and +old family are famous in the region. + + + =The Giant Scissors.= + +This is the story of Joyce and of her adventures in France. Joyce is a +great friend of the Little Colonel, and in later volumes shares with her +the delightful experiences of the "House Party" and the "Holidays." + + + =Two Little Knights of Kentucky.= WHO WERE THE LITTLE + COLONEL'S NEIGHBORS. + +In this volume the Little Colonel returns to us like an old friend, but +with added grace and charm. She is not, however, the central figure of +the story, that place being taken by the "two little knights." + + + =Mildred's Inheritance.= + +A delightful little story of a lonely English girl who comes to America +and is befriended by a sympathetic American family who are attracted by +her beautiful speaking voice. By means of this one gift she is enabled +to help a school-girl who has temporarily lost the use of her eyes, and +thus finally her life becomes a busy, happy one. + + + =Cicely and Other Stories for Girls.= + +The readers of Mrs. Johnston's charming juveniles will be glad to learn +of the issue of this volume for young people. + + + =Aunt 'Liza's Hero and Other Stories.= + +A collection of six bright little stories, which will appeal to all boys +and most girls. + + + =Big Brother.= + +A story of two boys. The devotion and care of Steven, himself a small +boy, for his baby brother, is the theme of the simple tale. + + + =Ole Mammy's Torment.= + +"Ole Mammy's Torment" has been fitly called "a classic of Southern +life." It relates the haps and mishaps of a small negro lad, and tells +how he was led by love and kindness to a knowledge of the right. + + + =The Story of Dago.= + +In this story Mrs. Johnston relates the story of Dago, a pet monkey, +owned jointly by two brothers. Dago tells his own story, and the account +of his haps and mishaps is both interesting and amusing. + + + =The Quilt That Jack Built.= + +A pleasant little story of a boy's labor of love, and how it changed the +course of his life many years after it was accomplished. + + + =Flip's Islands of Providence.= + +A story of a boy's life battle, his early defeat, and his final triumph, +well worth the reading. + + + +_By EDITH ROBINSON_ + + + =A Little Puritan's First Christmas.= + +A Story of Colonial times in Boston, telling how Christmas was invented +by Betty Sewall, a typical child of the Puritans, aided by her brother +Sam. + + + =A Little Daughter of Liberty.= + +The author introduces this story as follows: + +"One ride is memorable in the early history of the American Revolution, +the well-known ride of Paul Revere. Equally deserving of commendation is +another ride,--the ride of Anthony Severn,--which was no less historic +in its action or memorable in its consequences." + + + =A Loyal Little Maid.= + +A delightful and interesting story of Revolutionary days, in which the +child heroine, Betsey Schuyler, renders important services to George +Washington. + + + =A Little Puritan Rebel.= + +This is an historical tale of a real girl, during the time when the +gallant Sir Harry Vane was governor of Massachusetts. + + + =A Little Puritan Pioneer.= + +The scene of this story is laid in the Puritan settlement at +Charlestown. + + + =A Little Puritan Bound Girl.= + +A story of Boston in Puritan days, which is of great interest to +youthful readers. + + + =A Little Puritan Cavalier.= + +The story of a "Little Puritan Cavalier" who tried with all his boyish +enthusiasm to emulate the spirit and ideals of the dead Crusaders. + + + =A Puritan Knight Errant.= + +The story tells of a young lad in Colonial times who endeavored to carry +out the high ideals of the knights of olden days. + + + + +_By OUIDA_ (_Louise de la Ramée_) + + + =A Dog of Flanders=: A CHRISTMAS STORY. + +Too well and favorably known to require description. + + + =The Nurnberg Stove.= + +This beautiful story has never before been published at a popular price. + + + + +_By FRANCES MARGARET FOX_ + + + =The Little Giant's Neighbours.= + +A charming nature story of a "little giant" whose neighbours were the +creatures of the field and garden. + + + =Farmer Brown and the Birds.= + +A little story which teaches children that the birds are man's best +friends. + + + =Betty of Old Mackinaw.= + +A charming story of child-life, appealing especially to the little +readers who like stories of "real people." + + + =Brother Billy.= + +The story of Betty's brother, and some further adventures of Betty +herself. + + + =Mother Nature's Little Ones.= + +Curious little sketches describing the early lifetime, or "childhood," +of the little creatures out-of-doors. + + + =How Christmas Came to the Mulvaneys.= + +A bright, lifelike little story of a family of poor children, with an +unlimited capacity for fun and mischief. The wonderful never-to-be +forgotten Christmas that came to them is the climax of a series of +exciting incidents. + + * * * * * + +Transcriber's Notes: + +Varied hyphenation was retained as in yardstick and yard-stick. + +Page 138, "kneeding" changed to "kneading" (and began kneading) + +Page 321, the author of The Wreck of the Ocean Queen was not +small-capped in the original. This was fixed in this copy. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Little Colonel in Arizona, by +Annie Fellows Johnston + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LITTLE COLONEL IN ARIZONA *** + +***** This file should be named 39599-8.txt or 39599-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/9/5/9/39599/ + +Produced by David Edwards, Emmy and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images generously made available by The +Internet Archive) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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