The Camp Fire Girls at the End of the Trail

CHAPTER XII
The Man From Above

There are times when circumstances act in one’s favor with surprising quickness.

Howard Brent had scarcely a moment of wondering whether it were humanly possible that he could trust himself to crawl downward over the crumbling rock and reach his companions. By this method he might rescue Peggy, but not Ralph. He could not, of course, pull them both up together, the moment Peggy released her hold Ralph had no chance.

Howard simply did not consider the saving of Ralph first.

But he did turn his head to look up the trail for help, and he did call out as loudly as possible. They were not so far down, that some one of the Camp Fire party might not hear him. The chance was a slim one, yet every desperate chance must be taken.

Howard was greatly surprised when his call was immediately answered.

The next instant there appeared above him the wise grey head of a small burro, with a long-legged man seated on his back. But, best of all, the burro had a rope thrown carelessly about his neck.

The man and the burro did look as if they represented a special act of Providence, but the reason for their sudden appearance was a very simple one indeed.

Mrs. Burton had not known of Peggy’s and Ralph’s intention to go on farther down the trail, until five or ten minutes after their disappearance with Howard Brent, when Bettina came to her and mentioned the fact. Mrs. Burton had been occupied with other things and, after the safe arrival of the Camp Fire party on this plateau of rock where they were to spend the day, had gone away from the others and laid down for a few minutes.

Indeed, her eyes were closed and she was half asleep when Bettina found her. But Bettina was too uneasy not to confide in her at once.

Mrs. Burton immediately shared Bettina’s anxiety. If Mrs. Webster had given her consent, it was because she knew nothing of the dangers of the rocky trails and Peggy had clouded her judgment.

But she did not go to her sister. It was Mrs. Burton’s idea, as it had always been Polly O’Neill’s, that Mollie should be spared whenever possible. So she found one of their guides and sent him on down the trail after the wanderers as quickly as he could be started.

The burro was to save Peggy the fatigue and danger of the ascent, and the rope was merely a safeguard in case one of the two young men should slip.

The guide was down by Howard Brent and had his rope coiled like a lasso in an incredibly short time. He had been a ranchman and the art was entirely familiar to him.

A moment later it was safely around Ralph’s body and Peggy was able to let go, while the two men drew Ralph up to safety.

It was curious but it seemed more difficult for Peggy to hold on after her burden had been taken from her, than it had been before. It happens this way in life with other burdens. She was so stiff and so tired that her own volition was gone.

But, something, a something that is oftentimes stronger than one’s will – an inherited instinct – made her continue her clutch on the small tree.

It was only a brief time. For with the rope now about his own waist, Howard Brent soon after crawled down to her. Holding her in one arm he climbed with the other using his feet as well and assisted by the guide from above.

The two men had simply laid Ralph aside in a crevice of rock above the trail, as soon as his rescue had been effected.

He was still unconscious when Peggy reached safety.

She did not feel frightened about herself – only incredibly tired. But Ralph’s face frightened her.

Peggy had never seen any one unconscious before – the whiteness and the drawn look of the nose and mouth were startling.

She went over to him at once.

“Ralph,” she said, shaking him gently.

Then she turned to Howard Brent.

“Is Ralph dead?” she asked quietly, yet with a queer note in her voice.

Howard stared at her.

“Oh, Lord, no,” he returned, not with much show of feeling. “There is nothing the matter with Ralph except that he bumped his head as he went over. He will be all right in a little while. He was a good deal of a chump to have gone so near the edge of the cliff and more of a chump to have dragged you along with him.”

Peggy did not answer. She knew, of course, that Ralph had not intended any harm should befall her, but it was not worth while arguing the point then.

Instead, she managed to seat herself in a half upright position, but so she could get Ralph’s head in her lap.

“Ralph,” she kept repeating over and over in a gentle, penetrating voice. She believed her voice would somehow reach her companion’s consciousness. She had the control and the sense of having braced herself to meet an emergency, which was characteristic of Peggy Webster. But there was no doubting the depth of her feeling; nor of how much affection she felt for her friend.

It was there in her face, as well, and Ralph saw it when he first opened his eyes. Howard Brent was also a witness. If Ralph had wished proof that he had won his wager and had made Peggy Webster care for him by a few weeks of careless attention, his proof was undeniable.

Yet Ralph had no thought except gratitude and admiration. Peggy Webster was the clearest-eyed, the bravest, and the truest girl he had ever known in his life. Ralph remembered his own instinctive clutch after her and would have given five years of his life to wipe out the memory.

But Peggy was perfectly sensible and matter of fact by this time.

In her pocket she had the usual first aid Camp Fire necessities. Ralph’s head was only cut and not deeply, as far as one could see. She merely bandaged it until they could reach the flat table-land above. There they would find water and whatever else was required.

In spite of his protest Ralph was made to ride the burro, with the guide ahead leading them both, and Howard assisted Peggy.

It was a sorry little party and not impressive. If Peggy had not been so tired she would have been amused at the spectacle they presented, after only about a half an hour’s exploration of the Grand Canyon.

But she really did wish to make as light of the situation as possible.

“Please don’t say a great deal about how stupid Ralph and I were, Mr. Brent. That is, let us agree not to tell any more than we positively must. If mother and my aunt learn that I pitched over a cliff they will be so wretched over what might have happened to me – and did not – that it will spoil their pleasure, and perhaps everybody’s. I am awfully grateful to you,” she ended shyly; “of course, we would both have come to grief without you.”

“No; the guide would have looked after you, and I was of no value without him,” Howard Brent returned brusquely. He was in a bad temper and, although he did not wish to vent it upon Peggy, he found it almost impossible to conceal his anger.

He never had thought much of Ralph Marshall and he thought considerably less of him at present. That a girl like Peggy Webster should waste her affection upon him was annoying under any circumstances. But that she should do so under the particular conditions which he had heard being arranged by Ralph and Terry Benton was unendurable.

Yet Howard had not altogether made up his mind. He thought Peggy should be told of their wager and yet had not finally decided to tell her himself.

It was on the tip of his tongue to tell her at once, but here was of course neither the time nor the place. She was such a plucky little person and looked so used up, although insisting that she was perfectly fit. Howard had suggested that he carry her a part of the way, but Peggy had only laughed at him.

Nevertheless, the young man felt perfectly capable of doing it and he probably was. He was four or five years older than Peggy Webster and really had believed, ever since their first meeting, that he would like her for a friend. He had no sister of his own, but if he had had one, Howard Brent felt that he would have been proud to have her like Peggy.

In the last ten days he had been made wretchedly uncomfortable by her innocent straightforwardness in accepting Ralph Marshall’s attentions. Therefore, as he considered the confession must be made, he might as well meet the situation. Later in the day when Peggy had rested, Howard at length concluded he must tell her himself. There was no one else for the unpleasant task.

But during their walk up the trail Howard did but very little talking and Peggy was grateful. She did wish to appear as self-controlled and as indifferent to her experience as she could, before rejoining her mother and friends. Bettina and her aunt might be angry as well as alarmed, for she should not have insisted upon going down the second trail against Bettina’s advice and her aunt’s knowledge.

Nevertheless, there was considerable excitement when the three adventurers returned. And, because of the injury to his head, all day Howard Brent had to see Ralph being made more or less a hero of by the Camp Fire girls.

Peggy was more exhausted from her experience than she had realized and remained a great part of time quietly seated by her mother.

Mrs. Webster was not entirely comfortable because she had left Billy at camp with only Marie for a companion. But he had insisted that he did not wish to join the Camp Fire expedition and would not allow even Vera to stay behind with him.

About four o’clock the entire party started back for camp. They wished to arrive in time for an early dinner and Marta Clark had first to be taken home.

Marta, as well as Peggy Webster, felt that she had not had so satisfactory a day as she had dreamed of. In the first place, Mrs. Burton had been so absorbed in the day’s arrangements that she had paid but little attention to her outside guests.

Then, Dan Webster had not been so agreeable as Marta expected him to be. Perhaps she had no right to have taken his interest a little for granted. His past kindness must have been due to sympathy caused by her accident, for Dan was undeniably one of the physically strong people to whom weakness made an appeal. Now, as she was a great deal better, she no longer required his physical assistance. So today he devoted the most of his time and attention to Sally Ashton. Sally, declaring that the grandeur and coldness of the great stone cliffs made her lonely and afraid, had appealed to Dan to be with her whenever he could. So, as Marta had made no such appeal, she was neglected.

However it was arranged for them that Dan should drive Marta home in one of the small carriages and that Peggy was to accompany them.

By his own request Howard Brent was allowed to make the fourth and to sit by Peggy.

“After dinner, tonight, when you have rested I should like to speak to you alone a few minutes,” Howard asked unexpectedly, just before their arrival at Sunrise camp. “Mrs. Burton said I might stay on until bedtime.”

CHAPTER XIII
Disillusion

For an hour before dinner Peggy remained alone in her tent, Bettina having seen that she was comfortable, had then gone away.

She was annoyed at finding herself so stiff and sore and for some reason so oddly depressed. For Peggy was not as accustomed to depression as most girls, being too fond of outdoor life and not given to introspection. But it was natural enough that the nervous shock, as well as the physical strain of her recent experience, should tell on her more as the hours passed than at the beginning.

Ralph and Terry Benton had gone home at once to their hotel on the return of the Camp Fire party to camp.

Through dinner Peggy sat quietly between her mother and Dan, not talking very much.

From the other end of the table Howard Brent watched her furtively whenever he had the opportunity. He was not happy over what he was intending to do, although from his point of view it was the only fair thing. Peggy ought not to be deceived by a pretense of friendship into giving her own sincere affection in return.

Several times the young man had thought of confiding in Bettina Graham and asking her to undertake the task of enlightening Peggy in his stead. Bettina, Howard realized, did not like Ralph Marshall any better than he did. But, afterwards, he had put this thought away from him, feeling that, as an actual witness to the wager between Ralph and Terry, his telling of the story would be more convincing.

As soon as they had gotten up from the table Peggy joined their only outside guest that evening. Together they walked away from the others.

But they did not go very far, as it was almost dark and turning a good deal cooler.

Peggy had put on a golden yellow sweater and, with her hair so closely bound about her head and her hands in her pockets, she had again the slightly boyish appearance characteristic of her.

But Howard Brent did not see this. To him she looked very young and sweet and ardent, with a lack both of vanity and self-consciousness which set her apart from a good many girls, but only made her more attractive to him.

“Can’t we find a place and sit down? You can’t be feeling fit enough for much of a walk,” Howard suggested.

At first Peggy shook her head, declaring she was all right, but later they went to a favorite spot near the foot of the hill and not far from the small lake. This was a favorite Camp Fire place, since it was near enough to have the rest of the Camp Fire party in sight and yet far enough away for confidences.

Peggy was not particularly interested in what Howard Brent had to say to her. He had seemed to be in the act of confiding something or other whenever they had met recently. But she had not considered deeply what the confidence could be, and really since he had asked her to give him a few minutes alone, she had not thought of the matter at all. She was much too tired.

But Peggy was always friendly and willing to listen when her friends wished to talk to her.

She sat now on an overturned log with Howard Brent on the ground beside her and facing her.

There was not much light except from the big camp fire many yards off. The pine trees and the hill made a rather gloomy background, and the stars were just struggling to show through the dusk.

“That was a pretty close shave you had this afternoon, Miss Peggy,” Howard began. It was awkward – this beginning of an awkward conversation, but as well one way as another.

Peggy nodded. “Let’s don’t talk about it tonight, if you don’t mind. It is silly, I know, but the more I think about the accident the more nervous I become. Why, I seem to be more afraid now than I actually was when I was hanging over that wretched precipice. I suppose, I was too paralyzed with terror then to realize what had happened. I just kept thinking that I was going to hold on to that tree and to Ralph, and that even if I died I wouldn’t let go. But now I keep having a vision of Ralph and myself sliding down forever and ever, with nothing to stop us. It would have been pretty awful, wouldn’t it?”

Peggy tried to laugh but the effort was faint-hearted.

Howard Brent frowned.

“It would have been about the most horrible thing I can imagine,” he answered gravely and with just the right amount of steadying sympathy in his voice. “As far as you are concerned I simply refuse to think of it. And, even though I don’t like Marshall, there isn’t any human being I dislike enough to care to contemplate such a fate overtaking him.”

Peggy’s lips parted and she flushed a little.

“Why don’t you like Ralph?” she asked quietly, but without any show of anger. “I have seen that you did not like him and I have been wondering about it lately. You see, Bettina Graham feels the same way and usually I have great respect for Bettina’s judgment. But I think she is mistaken about Ralph. You see, I have known him for several years, but not very intimately. He has been coming to our place in New Hampshire for a part of his holidays whenever he has liked, as his father and mine are great friends. Ralph and I have always been friendly enough, but he has never paid any particular attention to me until lately. I suppose I always seemed pretty young to him and a kind of tomboy. I really am one, you know, even if I am nearly grown. So, now, it seems awfully good of him to be interested in me, and I like him very much. That is why I think it is funny you and Bettina don’t like him. I know he wasn’t a good student at college and can’t make up his mind what kind of work he wishes to undertake. But there is time enough for him to find out later on.”

“Marshall is a cad,” Howard Brent interrupted. He had not intended to speak so abruptly, nor to show so much anger, but Peggy’s defense annoyed him.

However, she did not contradict him, nor reveal any of the petulance at being overruled, which most people would have expressed.

Instead, she looked at her companion with the clear, level glance he was beginning to know fairly well.

“That is a pretty hard thing to say about a human being, Mr. Brent. Sometimes I think it is perhaps the cruelest thing anybody can ever say about another,” she repeated slowly. “You see it really means everything. A man or a woman who is a cad is capable of almost any dishonor. And, worst of all, a cad does not even know when he is dishonorable.”

“Yes,” Howard Brent repeated. “I expect that is a pretty good definition of a cad. You may not think Marshall so bad as all that, but unfortunately I do.” He stopped a moment, his skin tanned from the Arizona winds and suns reddening faintly.

No matter how valiantly he had approached the moment of his confidence to Peggy Webster, the actual telling was to be no more agreeable then he had conceived it.

At this instant he hesitated.

“I think you owe it to Ralph to tell me why you think he is a cad,” she declared.

Peggy’s hands were clasped quietly in her lap and she was leaning forward, looking with earnestness at her companion. But she did not appear disturbed. She was sorry that he had so unfortunate a point of view about Ralph, but she did not feel in the least danger of being convinced by his opinion. For Peggy’s points of view were her own.

“Oh, it is pretty hard to tell,” Howard went on, “and you may not think I ought to tell you. Somehow it does seem impertinent of me to dare speak of it. But I just can’t stand your being influenced by Ralph Marshall’s attentions to you. The truth is about ten days or two weeks ago I overheard him making a bet with Terry Benton. He insisted that he could influence you to care for him as easily and in the same way that other girls do by paying you attention. He bet Benton a hundred dollars.”

Howard Brent’s face stiffened. The thing sounded even uglier in the telling than when it had occurred, and he had not intended that it should.

But Peggy merely stared at him incredulously.

“It must have been a joke!” she exclaimed.

Howard Brent shook his head.

“Well, even if it were a joke, it strikes me as being of a not very well-bred kind. I didn’t know how you might feel concerning it, but I felt that you ought to know. If you wish to continue friends with Marshall, now that you know, why of course it is not my affair. Perhaps girls are all alike!” Howard concluded.

Peggy was still looking at him, surprised, but not overwhelmed and apparently not entirely convinced.

“Somehow making a bet of that kind sounds so stupid,” she argued – not so much with her companion as with the impressions struggling for first place in her own mind. “It isn’t that I doubt what you have told me, Mr. Brent, only that I think you have made a mistake. Why should Ralph care enough one way or the other whether I like him? I am not a very important person.”

Howard Brent got up. “If you would like confirmation of my story you can speak to Terry Benton,” he announced, looking decidedly angry. “Personally, I am sorry I spoke to you of it.”

But Peggy had also gotten up and now put her hand on her companion’s arm.

“No; you are not sorry,” she returned. “Of course, I don’t want to speak of what you have told me to Terry Benton. But I would like to ask Ralph. Will you tell him to come over to see me in the morning, if he is well enough.”

And Peggy walked back with Howard Brent to say good night to her mother and aunt, serenely talking of other things.