A Campfire Girls First Council Fire | Page 6

funny to you."
"Yes, but I was sorry when I came out here and saw that everyone was
laughing at me. There were all sorts of things I'd never seen or thought
about. I'm really only just beginning to get used to them now. Bessie,
it's getting pretty dark. Won't the moon be up soon?"
"Not for an hour or two yet, Zara. But it is dark now--we'd better begin
walking toward your house. We want to get there while it stays dark,
and before the old moon does get up. It'll be just as bright as daylight
then, and they'd be able to see us. I tell you what--we want to keep off
the road. We'll go through the woods till we get a chance to cut through
Farmer Weeks' cornfield. That'll bring us out behind your place, and we
can steal up quietly."
"You'd think we'd been doing something wrong, Bessie. It seems
mighty mean for us to have to sneak around that way."
"It's all right as long as we know we haven't done anything that isn't
right, Zara. That's the chief thing. If you do right, people will find it out
sooner or later, even if they think at first that you're bad. Sometimes it
takes a long time, but Paw Hoover says he's never known it to fail that
a bad man gets found out sooner or later."
"Then Jake Hoover'd better look out," said Zara, viciously. "He's lied
so much, and done so many mean things that you've got the blame for,
that he'll have an awful lot to make up for when he starts in. What
would Paw Hoover do to him if he knew he'd set the woodshed on fire,
Bessie?"
"I don't know. He'd be awful mad. He hasn't got so awful much money,

you know, and he needs it all for the farm. But Maw Hoover thinks
Jake's all right. She'd find some excuse for him. She always does when
he does get found out. That happens sometimes, you know. He can't
always make them think I've done it."
"I guess maybe that's why he's so mean, Bessie. Don't you think so?"
"Shouldn't wonder, Zara. I don't believe he stops to think half the time.
Here we are! We'll cut through the fence. Careful as we go
through--keep to the lanes between the stalks. We mustn't hurt the corn,
you know."
"I'd like to pull up every stalk! These people 'round here have been
mean and ugly to my father ever since we came here."
"That isn't right, though, Zara. It won't do you any good to hurt them in
return. If you do wrong, too, just because they have, you'll be just as
bad as they are."
"Oh, I know, but they've said all sorts of awful things, and if they've put
him in prison now--" She stopped, with a sob, and Bessie took her
hand.
"Cheer up, Zara. We don't know that anything of that sort has happened
yet, and, even if it has, it will come out all right. If your father hasn't
done anything wrong, they can't punish him. He'll get a fair trial if he's
been arrested, and they can't prove he's done anything unless he has,
you know."
"But if they lied about him around here, mightn't they lie the same
afterward--at the trial, Bessie? I'm frightened; really I am!"
"Hush, Zara! There's your house, and there's a light! That means there's
someone there. I hope it's your father, but it might be someone else, and
we mustn't let them hear us."
The two girls were out of the cornfield now, and, crossing a little patch
of swampy land, came to the little garden around Zara's house, where

her father had planted a few vegetables that helped to feed him and
Zara.
The house was little better than a cabin, a rough affair, tumbled down
in spots, with a sagging roof, and stained and weather-worn boards. It
had no second floor at all, and it was a poor, cheap apology for a
dwelling, all around. But, after all, it was Zara's home, the only home
she knew, and she was so tired and discouraged that all she wanted was
to get safely inside and throw herself down on her hard bed to sleep.
"Listen!" whispered Bessie, suddenly.
From the room into which the kitchen led there came a murmur of
voices. At first, though they strained their ears, they could make
nothing out of the confused sounds of talk. But gradually they
recognized voices, and Bessie turned pale as she heard Paw Hoover's,
easy for her to know, since his deep tones rumbled out in the quiet
night. Zara recognized them, too, and clutched Bessie's arm.
"My father isn't there!" she whispered. "If he was, I'd