The Camp Fire Girls in the Woods | Page 9

were in the water, and Bessie and
Zara had been taken into different boats. Then, at a word from Wanaka,
the paddles rose and dipped into the water, and with two girls paddling
each canoe, one at the stern and one at the bow, they were soon

speeding across the lake, which, at this point, was not more than a
quarter of a mile wide.
Once ashore, Wanaka said a few words to other girls who were busy
about the fire, and in less than a minute the savory odor of frying bacon
and steaming coffee rose from the fire. Zara gave a little sigh of perfect
content.
"Oh, doesn't that smell good?" she said.
Bessie smiled.
"It certainly does, and it's going to taste even better than it smells," she
answered, happily.
They sat down, cross-legged, near the fire, and the girls of the camp,
quiet and competent, and asking them no questions, waited on them.
Bessie and Zara weren't used to that. They had always had to wait on
others, and do things for other people; no one had ever done much for
them. It was a new experience, and a delightful one. But Bessie, seeing
Wanaka's quiet eyes fixed upon her, realized that the time for
explanations would come when their meal was over.
And, sure enough, after Bessie and Zara had eaten until they could eat
no more, Wanaka came to her, gently, and took her by the hand. She
seemed to recognize that Bessie must speak for Zara as well as for
herself.
"Now suppose we go off by ourselves and have a little talk, Bessie,"
she suggested. "I'm sure you have something to tell me, haven't you?"
"Yes, indeed, Miss Wanaka," said Bessie. She knew that in Wanaka she
had found, by a lucky chance, a friend she could trust and one who
could give her good advice.
Wanaka smiled at her as she led the way to the largest of the tents.
"Just call me Wanaka, not Miss Wanaka," she said. "My name is

Eleanor Mercer, but here in the camp and wherever the Camp Fire Girls
meet we often call one another by our ceremonial names. Some of us --
most of us -- like the old Indian names, and take them, but not always."
"Now," she said, when they were alone together in the tent, "tell me all
about it, Bessie. Haven't you any parents? Or did they let you go out to
spend the night all alone in the woods that way?"
Then Bessie told her the whole story. Wanaka watched her closely as
Bessie told of her life with the Hoovers, of her hard work and drudgery,
and of Jake's persecution. Her eyes narrowed slightly as Bessie
described the scene at the woodshed, and told of how Jake had locked
Zara in to wait for her mother's return, and of his cruel and dangerous
trick with the burning embers.
"Did he really tell his father that you had set the shed on fire -- on
purpose?" asked Wanaka, rather sternly.
"He was afraid of what would happen to him if they knew he'd done it,"
said Bessie. "I guess he didn't stop to think about what they'd do to me.
He was just so frightened, and wanted to save himself."
Wanaka looked at her very kindly.
"These people aren't related to you at all, are they?" she asked. "You
weren't bound to them -- they didn't agree to keep you any length of
time and have you work for them in return for your board?"
"No," said Bessie.
"Then, if that's so, you had a right to leave them whenever you liked,"
said Wanaka, thoughtfully. "And tell me about Zara. Who is her father?
What does he do for a living?"
"I don't think she even knows that herself. They used to live in the city,
but they came out here two or three years ago, and he's never gone
around with the other men, because he can't speak English very well.
He's some sort of a foreigner, you see. And when they took him off to

prison Zara was left all alone. He used to stay around the cabin all the
time, and Zara says he would work late at night and most of the day,
too, making things she never saw. Then he'd go off for two or three
days at a time, and Zara thought he went to the city, because when he
came back he always had money -- not very much, but enough to buy
clothes and food for them. And she said he always seemed to be
disappointed and unhappy when he came back."
"And the people in the village thought he was a counterfeiter -- that he
made bad money?"
"That's what Maw Hoover and