The Camp Fire Girls in the Woods | Page 6

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'd 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 hear him."
"There's Farmer Weeks -- and I believe that's Jake Hoover's voice, too,"
said Bessie, also in a whisper.
Then the door was opened, and the two girls huddled closer together,
shivering, afraid that they would be discovered. But it seemed that Paw
Hoover had only opened the door to get a little air, since the night was
very hot after the storm. About them the insects were making their
accustomed din, and a little breeze rustled among the treetops. But,
with the door open, they could hear what was being said plainly
enough.
"I ain't goin' to wait here all night, Brother Weeks,"