A Campfire Girls First Council Fire | Page 3

begged Bessie. "Please, Jake, if you
do, I'll help you do your chores to-night--I will, indeed!"

"You'll have to do 'em anyhow," said Jake, still holding poor Zara. "I've
got a dreadful headache. I'm too sick to do any work to-night."
He made a face that he thought was comical. Zara, realizing that she
was helpless against his greater strength, had stopped struggling, and he
turned on her suddenly with a vicious glare.
"I know why you're hangin' 'round here," he said. "They took that
worthless critter you call your paw off to jail jest now--and you're tryin'
to steal chickens till he comes out."
"That ain't true!" she exclaimed. "My father never stole anything.
They're just picking on him because he's a foreigner and can't talk as
well as some of them--"
"They've locked him up, anyhow," said Jake. "An' now I'm goin' to
lock you up, too, an' keep you here till maw comes home--right here in
the woodshed, where you'll be safe!"
And despite her renewed struggling and Bessie's tearful protests, he
kept his word, thrusting her into the woodshed and locking the great
padlock on the door, while she screamed in futile rage, and kicked
wildly at the door.
Then, with a parting sneer for Bessie, he went off, carrying the key
with him.
"Listen, Zara," said Bessie, sobbing. "Can you hear me?"
"Yes. I'm all right, Bessie. Don't you cry! He didn't hurt me any."
"I'll try and get a key so I can let you out before she comes home. If she
finds you in there, she'll give you a beating, just like she said. I've got
to go churn some milk into butter now, but I'll be back as soon as ever I
can. Don't you worry! I'll get you out of there all right."
"Please try, Bessie! I'm so worried about what he said about my father.
It can't be true--but how would he ever think of such a story? I want to

get home and find out."
"You keep quiet. I'll find some way to get you out," promised Bessie,
loyally.
And, stirred to a greater anger than she had ever felt by Jake Hoover's
bullying of poor Zara, she went off to attend to her churning.
Jake, as a matter of fact, was responsible for a good deal of Bessie's
unhappiness. As a child he had been sickly, and he had continued, long
after he had outgrown his weakness, and sprouted up into a lanky,
raw-boned boy, to trade upon the fears his parents had once felt for him.
Among boys of his own age he was unpopular. He had early become a
bully, abusing smaller and weaker boys.
Bessie he had long made a mark for his sallies of wit. He taunted her
interminably about the way her father and mother had left her; he
pulled her hair, and practiced countless other little tricks that she could
not resent. His father tried to reprove him at times, but his mother
always rushed to his defence, and in her eyes he could do no wrong.
She upheld him against anyone who had a bad word to say concerning
him--and, of course, Bessie got undeserved rebukes for many of his
misdeeds.
He soon learned that he could escape punishment by making it seem
that she had done things of which he was accused, and, as his word was
always taken against hers, no matter what the evidence was, he had
only increased his mother's dislike for the orphaned girl.
The whole village shared Maw Hoover's dislike of Zara and her father.
He had settled down two or three years before in an abandoned house,
but no one seemed to understand how he lived. He disappeared for days
at a time, but he seemed always to have money enough to pay his way,
although never any more. And in the village there were dark rumors
concerning him.
Gossip accused him of being a counterfeiter, who made bad money in
the abandoned house he had taken for his own, and that seemed to be

the favorite theory. And whenever chickens were missed, dark looks
were cast at Zara and her father. He looked like a gypsy, and he would
never answer questions about himself. That was enough to condemn
him.
Bessie finished her churning quickly, and then went back, hoping either
to make Jake relent or find some way of releasing the prisoner in the
woodshed. But she could see no sign of Jake. The summer afternoon
had become dark. In the west heavy black clouds were forming, and as
Bessie looked about it grew darker and darker. Evidently a thunder
shower was approaching. That meant that Maw Hoover would hurry
home. If she was to help Zara she must make haste.
Jake, it seemed, had