CHAPTER XVI
The Pine, Not the Olive
Peggy Webster had her arms filled with pine branches when she met Ralph Marshall coming toward Sunrise camp the following day.
She had gone a short distance into the woods for some light twigs for the camp fire, as the supply had gotten low.
She was walking with her head thrown back to keep the pine needles from touching her face, although their fragrance always thrilled her. They were so spicy, so woodsy, so redolent of a fine sweetness that had no cloying element in it. Surely the pine was a wise choice for the Camp Fire emblem. If a girl can grow into a woman keeping the same kind of spiritual fragrance that the pine tree sheds as a physical one, she has no reason to fear that her value may ever fail.
Peggy had not seen Ralph since the afternoon of his uncomfortable confession and she had not made up her mind just how she should meet him. So now her eyes widened and her lips parted a little; she was already flushed from the exertion of her work and the weight of the burden she carried.
But Peggy spoke naturally enough, as she would have done to any acquaintance, although the past sensation of pleasure she had felt at any chance meeting with Ralph had gone.
Ralph came forward and quietly extended his hands for pine branches and, in spite of the fact that Peggy hesitated, he took the greater number of them from her. A few of the twigs broke and fell on the ground.
“I came over to camp this morning because Mrs. Burton asked me to come, Peggy; otherwise I would not have intruded upon you,” he declared.
The girl shook her head.
“I have not the faintest desire to keep you away from Sunrise camp, Ralph. Indeed, I would be sorry if you let me interfere with your actions in any way. The other girls like you a great deal and I am sure would miss seeing you.”
Ralph did not answer. He had noticed that Peggy had said “other girls,” but also that she had spoken without a pretense of wishing to impress him with the knowledge of her disfavor or her change of attitude toward him. She had spoken with perfectly unconscious sincerity and Ralph Marshall appreciated that, for once in his life at least, he had known a girl who said what she meant. Peggy’s expression “other girls” had really been a slip on her part, as she had not intended bringing herself into the situation in any way.
At camp they parted, Peggy going to announce to her aunt that Ralph wished to see her. And a few moments later Mrs. Burton appeared.
Ralph had been talking to Gerry and Sally, while he was forced to wait, and as they were determinedly planning an excursion in which he was to take part that afternoon, he had to be rescued by Mrs. Burton.
It was never possible to talk with any privacy in the immediate neighborhood of the camp. The girls were constantly going in and out of their tents, rebuilding the camp fire, or doing any one of a hundred things in connection with their work or entertainment. This morning Mrs. Webster was also sewing in front of the fire, with Dan coming back and forth to talk to her.
Ralph Marshall did not see Billy Webster, but, as he had rather a fashion of remaining alone, this did not mean that he had actually vanished from camp.
“Suppose we walk in the direction of the cliffs, Ralph,” Mrs. Burton suggested and then, almost as soon as they had started, she added:
“Yes, Billy has gone; he left before breakfast this morning so there could be no chance of a family argument. Dan says he slipped out of their tent without his knowing when he departed. And this, after I had expended an hour of precious eloquence upon the young man last night, sitting up with him when everybody else had gone to bed, and I was abominably sleepy.”
Mrs. Burton shrugged her shoulders, expressing amusement and chagrin, as well as anxiety.
“I am afraid I haven’t the slightest influence with him; but, then, no one else has – or perhaps I don’t know. I asked Vera if she thought she could influence him and she assured me she could not. She says my sister is mistaken in thinking that she influences Billy; he has always influenced her, although she is older and infinitely more sensible. But, Ralph, I only tell you this about Billy, because I want you to know something of the character of the boy you may have to deal with, if you succeed in doing what I ask of you. I know you have never noticed Billy particularly; few people do at first when Dan is around. Dan is so much better looking and more agreeable. But Billy is the stronger character of the two, strange as it seems to all of us. But whether for good or the other thing,” Mrs. Burton smiled a little ruefully, “I suppose if we live long enough we may find out. No gentleman could have been more courteous to me than my nephew was last night, or more utterly unmoved by my efforts at persuasion or command.
“There is just one thing we have to rely on in order to save Billy from what may turn into a real difficulty. Vera Lageloff has confided in me that she and Billy one afternoon discovered a group of objectionable men. I don’t know anything about them, except that they were on a strike or something of the kind, and that you and Peggy had met them by accident a short time before. But Billy has a passion for the unfortunate. He had only to hear that people are up in arms against something or some one and he is always in the midst of them.
“It was curious, but whenever the laborers on my brother-in-law’s place had any kind of grievance, they first put the matter up to Billy before taking it to his father. And you know Mr. Webster well enough to understand that he is the most just of men.”
Mrs. Burton had been walking slowly along but she now stopped and frowned, facing her companion.
“I don’t know why but I am frightened. I am afraid Billy is mixing himself up in some difficulty in which he has not the slightest concern, or the least reason for taking part in. And Vera is under the same impression, else she would never have told me what she did. She says Billy made her promise not to speak of their excursion, and she hated breaking her word to him. But she, too, is nervous about him and thinks we ought to find out what he is doing. Of course, we may both be on the wrong track. The boy may be off amusing himself somewhere in a perfectly simple fashion. But if you will only find out, Ralph, I shall be everlastingly grateful. I am pretty fond of Billy, though I don’t understand him and he certainly annoys me.”
Ralph smiled in an entirely efficient and satisfying manner.
“Oh, I expect you take the young man too seriously, Mrs. Burton. All boys have cranks of one kind or another, though I must confess Billy’s do not seem to be the ordinary kind. Don’t worry any more; I’ll find him for you and bring him home by the ear. Oh, I don’t mean literally; only from what you have told me I expect the youth takes himself too seriously. He has been ill so much he is probably more or less spoiled. I think the influence of an older fellow may do him good. I am accustomed to taking kinks out of the younger boys at college now and then, when they suffer from swell heads.”
Ralph spoke in a condescending, elderly brother tone which amused Mrs. Burton, although she showed no sign of it. Instead, she gave a little sigh of relief.
“But please be careful, won’t you, Ralph,” she added. “Billy isn’t like other people and he does have to be treated a little differently. Oh, I know you men don’t think this of each other, and Billy’s father will not consider the idea for a moment. But I think if he had talked to Billy more frankly, and asked him to wait a while before he decided so many questions for himself, the boy would not be so difficult.
“Let’s go back now, Ralph, as we have talked over the situation and said as much as there is to say. I don’t suppose you can do anything immediately; but, if, within the next few days you make any kind of discovery, suppose you let me know first. I really am worried over Billy’s realizing I have tried to spy upon him. I should have been dreadfully angry with any one who had done the same thing to me when I was his unreasonable age.”
“Oh, I don’t think Billy will have anything to complain of,” Ralph replied, as if Billy’s attitude held not the slightest interest for him. “And I don’t think I need be forever tracing the young person either – not if he has fallen in with the group Peggy and I met.
“Fortunately, I know where they can be found if they have not disappeared from their camping place. But what there can be in those fellows to interest a youngster, I can’t see.
“I wonder if your man will lend me a burro? I walked over from my hotel, and I think I’ll start out on the trail at once.”
Ralph was really interested in his quest. There was an agreeable element of mystery in it as well as knight errantry. Besides, an older fellow is seldom averse to making a younger one feel small, when he happens to think it good for him. Moreover, Ralph had been considerably out of sorts with himself for several days and it is always pleasanter to dwell on another’s shortcomings.
As soon as Mr. Simpson had allowed him the use of one of the camp ponies for the day, Ralph started off at a leisurely pace.
After all, it was rather good fun to have something definite to do, instead of idling all one’s time. And if one was accomplishing a favor for either Mrs. Burton or Peggy Webster, why all the more was the effort worth while. Billy Webster really played a very small part in Ralph Marshall’s thoughts.
CHAPTER XVII
The Passionate Pilgrim
Ralph Marshall’s pilgrimage was in vain. When he reached the place where the men had been in hiding, every trace of them had disappeared. He might have thought that he had made a mistake in the spot, except that there were marks on the ground where the camp fire had been, and he clearly remembered the circle of small hills.
After remaining in the neighborhood for half an hour or more and seeing no human being, Ralph knew that his task was not to be so easily accomplished. But he had no inclination to return and loiter about his hotel. Even failure was better than boredom, and the last few days had been intensely dull. Ralph was weary of sightseeing and seldom took an interest in viewing things alone. He was no longer friendly with Terry Benton and Howard Brent, whose expressed opinions of him had not been flattering. And, in spite of Peggy’s generosity, he felt himself cut off from the companionship of the Camp Fire girls.
Perhaps Ralph did not realize it, but the fact was that he did not care for the society of the other girls, now that Peggy’s was denied him.
Moreover, even if it were but slight, an ambition had been stirred in him by Mrs. Burton. Actually he wanted to succeed in what she had asked him to do. Rarely in his life had he been stirred by this emotion, except perhaps by the desire to win a game of tennis, or be elected to some special college fraternity.
Getting on his burro again, Ralph started off in another direction. He knew that he was traveling toward the line of railroad and supposed he would find more signs of life there. Certainly he could not discover less. It was also possible that he might run across some one who would have known of the dissatisfied men and might at least offer a suggestion as to what had become of them.
Of course, in finding the strikers one would not necessarily obtain information of Billy Webster’s proceedings. But, so long as one was under the impression that he might be spending his time in their society, they must first be hunted out. Afterwards, if Billy were not with them, then one could pursue some other idea.
After reaching the railroad line, Ralph jogged along on the road that ran alongside of it.
The road had been cut through somewhat more open country, nevertheless he met no one in passing. At present it was past noon, but, although Ralph was usually fond of his own comfort, it had not yet occurred to him that his prospect for food was a very poor one.
Then, half an hour later, when he was not in the least expecting to reach any such place, Ralph came upon a railroad station. There was a small frame building beside a platform and near it a typical western grocery store, which means that it held a great many other things beside groceries.
Ralph was feeling tired and a little hungry. If he was to continue riding about the country all day in this vague fashion, it would be as well to secure food for himself when he could. There was never yet a country store without cheese and crackers.
Ralph tied his pony to the hitching post and strolled up to the door of the store. The door was partly open and he could see a man inside who was probably a customer, as he did not appear to be the proprietor, and was talking with some one.
Ralph walked in and the man stopped talking. He was smoking a short pipe and looked curiously at the newcomer. Ralph’s appearance was a surprise. He looked so exactly like the old-fashioned western phrase which described the Eastern youth as a “tenderfoot.” Ralph’s riding costume was too new, too clean and too fashionable ever to have seen real service. But he knew how to make himself acceptable to most people.
He bowed a curt but friendly nod to the other man as he moved up toward the counter.
“I am a stranger in this part of the country,” he announced, “and I have been riding all morning. I wonder if you can let me eat a little something here?”
The grocery keeper was friendly enough and began shoving out the various supplies that the newcomer had asked for, conscious of the fact that he was a good customer.
Then Ralph climbed up on a stool and began eating his lunch and drinking ginger ale out of the glass bottle. He was enjoying himself a good deal more than he had at many a fashionable luncheon served at an expensive hotel.
By and by he turned to the other man who had not left the store.
“I wonder if you would have a bite with me?” he suggested. “I never did like having to eat alone.”
The man hesitated and then came forward.
“Don’t care if I do,” he answered in a somewhat surly fashion, but Ralph observed that he ate hungrily, and they had to have the supplies renewed a second time.
When they had finished they both strolled out of the store together and, without any discussion of the matter, sat down beside each other on the railroad platform. Each man looked as if he had no other interest or occupation in life except just to wait until a train passed by.
“There isn’t much excitement in this neighborhood, is there?” Ralph finally said.
His companion stared straight ahead of him.
“Oh, you can’t sometimes always tell just by the outside looks of things.”
Ralph hesitated a moment.
“Been any fun lately?” he inquired.
The man shook his head.
“Not much; nothing except some fellows been trying to blow up the track out this way. I’m on the lookout for them for the railroad, as I’m one of the company’s men.”
“Who are they and what is the matter?” Ralph asked, trying to show no especial interest beyond a perfectly natural one.
But his companion showed no sign of wishing to be secretive.
“Don’t know,” he returned. “If I did, I’d have had them out of mischief before this. There has been a gang of strikers hanging around somewhere in this neighborhood – no one knows the exact place. But there is no reason for suspecting them, except that they are down on the company. Funny, I’ve been watching around here for several days and haven’t even run across anybody to talk to before! At least no one but a boy who looked like he ought to be home with his mother.”
Ralph laughed.
“A kind of a tenderfoot like I am?”
The other man grinned.
“Oh, he was a good deal younger than you. We have so many travelers from the East out in this neighborhood now, that we have forgotten to call ’em ‘tenderfeet.’ This boy was a kid – a real kid – tall and sick looking, with light hair and blue eyes and nice manners.”
Ralph nodded.
“Funny, what was he doing around here? There is no hotel very near, is there?”
The older man shook his head.
“Not for several miles back. The boy said he was out here for his health and kind of liked to stay by himself. He said he would keep his eyes open for me. But he was a dreamy kind of kid. I don’t believe he would know trouble if he saw it.”
Ralph whistled.
“I don’t believe he would. Seen him lately?”
“This morning early.”
“Think he’ll come back this way?”
The man had refilled his pipe and was smoking.
“How’d I know?” he returned. “I ain’t seen him any time, except one or two mornings.”
The man then got up and stretched himself.
“Well, so long; I can’t waste any more time around here, much as I’d like to stay and talk. I’ve got to get up and down the track a piece. I wish you would keep an eye open on your way back.”
“Certainly,” Ralph answered, “only I’m not going back just yet. I am kind of tired and I thought I’d sit here awhile and rest.”
The two men nodded and the older one walked away.
Ralph waited for two hours. Then, as the man in the grocery store was beginning to look suspicious, he got up and strolled about. In the meantime the station master had reappeared, after having spent some time at his own midday meal.
Ralph tried to give him the impression that he was expecting some one on the next train.
But between four and five o’clock his patience gave out. It was either this, or he had lost all hope of Billy Webster’s returning the way he had evidently gone, not only this morning, but on several others.
Ralph then made up his mind to ask Mrs. Burton to allow him to remain all night at Sunrise camp.
The wanderer should not disappear the next day without his seeing him go.
CHAPTER XVIII
An Appeal
It was not particularly difficult as Billy had not the faintest suspicion that he was under surveillance. As he had planned beforehand in his own mind, Ralph followed him a few moments after his departure from camp a little after daylight the next day.
Both rode burros – the small, sure-footed ponies, which are used almost entirely in the western states where difficult climbing is to be accomplished. And, except for the pair of mules which were sometimes hitched to their provision wagon, the Sunrise Camp Fire party had no other steeds.
If any were required for their longer excursions they were rented from the hotel stables.
This morning Billy got ready his own burro and Mrs. Burton had asked Mr. Simpson to have Ralph’s waiting in case he wished it.
The order was an extraordinary one, yet Mr. Simpson, being one of the wisest of men, had asked no questions.
Naturally he had been aware of Billy’s daily disappearances, but as nothing was told him concerning them, he had appeared comfortably blind.
Now the morning was slightly misty, as many of the early fall mornings are apt to be in the neighborhood of the greatest canyon in the world.
But the mist was colored like an opal as the sun sifted its warm light slowly through.
Ralph did not attempt to keep the younger boy in sight. Only now and then he would send his pony a little more swiftly forward for a fleeting glimpse of him. He was, of course, afraid that Billy would hear him, or that he might suddenly turn around and see him.
It was not necessary that he constantly watch the other rider at the beginning of their travels, as he had a fairly good impression of the route the younger boy would take.
Ralph had been a little bored at getting up so early in the morning, as his outdoor bed had been extremely comfortable. He had slept not far away from Billy’s and Dan’s own tent, declining the offer of Dan’s cot which he had generously insisted upon his taking. Therefore, his bed had been a mattress of balsam and a pair of heavy Indian blankets.
As a matter of fact this was the first morning which Ralph Marshall had honored by arising early since his coming to Arizona. Now, quite apart from his interest in Billy Webster’s mysterious behavior and his own desire to be of service, Ralph felt repaid for his effort.
“The great point was to get started at a thing,” he argued with himself. “After that the doing of it wasn’t half bad.” It occurred to Ralph that this might be true of more important issues than the present one.
There was a possibility that Billy had only a desire to spend his days in freedom and adventure. But, if this were true, no one would have had a reasonable right to interfere with him. Now, in spite of the fact that Ralph suggested this idea to himself, he was not convinced by it.
The tiresome journey of the day before Ralph was not required to repeat. There was a more direct route to the track and from there to the small railroad station.
But, once arriving along the more open road which ran beside it, Ralph was forced to keep farther behind.
However, this was unimportant if he could manage to arrange to have Billy in sight when he reached the station. After that, he did not know what direction the boy would take, as he might continue down the track or else strike across the country.
Half a mile from the little railroad station Ralph Marshall’s saddle girth suddenly broke. As the burro he was riding was so small in comparison with his own height, Ralph’s legs almost reached the ground on either side of his mount. There was, therefore, no danger in connection with his mishap, only there was a short delay. However, the time consumed was not a matter of five minutes, required for pulling the leather straps together and rebuckling them in a fresh place.
Ralph was not seriously concerned, although having remounted he did ride on more rapidly than he had since starting out. But, for some reason he did not again come in sight of Billy Webster. Arriving at the railroad station there was still no sign of Billy.
This was puzzling. The pursuer stopped for reflection. His acquaintance of the day before was not in evidence, but there was a chance that the station master, who, at present, was in his small box, or else the keeper of the shop, would have seen Billy go by and noticed what route he had followed.
Both men declared that no boy had been seen by either of them during the entire morning.
Ralph Marshall argued the question. One or the other of them must have seen the boy, since undoubtedly a boy had passed by. But, although argument did not shake their testimony, it did make the men angry so that he was finally obliged to desist.
Then, undoubtedly in his own phraseology, Ralph felt himself up against it. He simply did not know what to do next. He must follow Billy, but one cannot well follow without knowing the plan or the direction of one’s leader.
In this life it is the first failures which are most difficult to endure. Ralph Marshall had made so few efforts of any kind in his existence, that he was profoundly disturbed by this small one.
Moreover, Ralph was at last becoming affected by Mrs. Burton’s obvious nervousness. Perhaps a successful culmination of his quest was not so unimportant as he had previously conceived it. He had wished to accomplish what he had set out to do, because Mrs. Burton was uneasy and because he was anxious to do her a favor. Incidentally he was not averse to doing one for Peggy, should conditions develop in that way. But the question of Billy’s own welfare he had never taken seriously. Therefore, it was curious that he should find himself suddenly growing uncomfortable over the boy.
Well, as one must inevitably go somewhere in this world – either forward or backward – Ralph appreciated that he could not remain indefinitely at an entirely uninteresting and apparently uneventful railroad station.
So, following an impulse – not a purpose, or even an idea – he rode away from the station and into the country.
He continued riding the greater part of the day, feeling as absurd as any foolish follower of Don Quixote’s bent upon an impossible quest.
Nevertheless, Ralph did not give up. He was tired and bored and hungry, and frequently had to get off his pony in order to allow it to rest. He found food for his burro and a little for himself at a small ranch house, but only now and then did he came in contact with a human being.
Most of the country through which he traveled was pine forest. It was ridiculous to imagine that Billy Webster could have any interest or any purpose in this unfamiliar and comparatively uninhabited region. Yet Ralph could not make up his mind to return to Sunrise camp bringing back with him no Billy, no information – nothing but a confession of failure.
An hour before twilight, however, Ralph was forced to start for camp.
He carried a compass with him; indeed he had been using one ever since his arrival in Arizona, and had been wise enough to watch the route he had followed with great care. For the latter part of the afternoon he had been traveling in a homeward direction. But now, of course, he must push straight on without further loitering.
To spend the night in the woods was entirely feasible, but without covering it would not be agreeable and nothing would be accomplished by it.
Sometimes it appears as if one must give up a desire in this world in order to accomplish it.
Certainly Ralph Marshall surrendered all thought of discovering Billy – at least on this particular day. He would try again, however, on the next day and on as many days as were necessary.
The early dusk had fallen. Ralph was walking along, leading his burro and fearing that he had overtaxed its strength, although these small ponies are supposed to be able to survive almost any test of endurance.
Then, quite unexpectedly, he heard noises. They were unmistakably human noises. Tying his burro to a nearby tree, Ralph walked cautiously toward them.
He had not, however, in any way associated the noises with the success of his own quest. For, temporarily at least, he had forgotten Billy, or rather he believed that the boy must by this time have returned to Sunrise camp.
The fact which made him most curious was, that at the present moment he was not far away from the spot where he and Peggy Webster had accidentally discovered the unknown group of men some little time before. These were the men who were apparently the strikers on the railroad.
If these were the same men whom he now overheard, Ralph was not anxious to thrust himself into their society against their wishes.
Nevertheless he was amazed when he finally saw them. Yet the men were the ones he had expected them to be.
The amazement was due to Billy Webster.
Billy was with them! But not only was he with them. In spite of his long legs he had been lifted high in the air and was seated on the shoulders of two of the biggest and strongest of the men. And Billy was making a speech!
From his hiding place Ralph could catch a glimpse of the boy’s white face in the half dusk. He could also overhear what Billy was saying.
“I tell you men it won’t do,” he argued persuasively. “You know they are on the look out for you. Haven’t I been all up and down the track for days getting reports for you? You say your strike has failed and other men are at work at your old jobs, but I can’t see how it will help you or your cause to try wrecking the track, or doing any kind of mischief. Please don’t.” His voice had a high sweetness.
He had leaned over from the men’s shoulders and spoke like a child asking a favor. Yet the older men were listening to him with serious faces.
Ralph could not believe what he actually saw and heard.
“You’ve got to win some day, if you’ll only have patience; we have all agreed on that fact,” Billy continued, still in his sweet boy’s voice. “Of course it may take a long time, but it is the biggest fight on earth, to win justice for the poor; so you know everybody has got to have a lot of patience. If you are going to do wrong things because you think the rich have done wrong to you, I can’t see how you are any better than they are. And I wouldn’t trust you any more than I do them, once you get the same power.”
It was occurring to Ralph Marshall, as he stood absorbedly listening to the youthful speaker, that Billy Webster was discussing in a simple, school-boy fashion certain of the biggest social problems of the day.
But what most impressed him was not what Billy said – almost any clever, visionary boy might have read the views he expressed and repeated them parrot fashion. The extraordinary thing was the way the men listened.
Actually, by some strange gift of nature, Billy was a leader among them – an influence they respected, even if they would not follow it.
“You made a mistake with that ugly piece of work you did the other night,” he went on pleadingly, “but no one was hurt and you have not been found out. Promise me you’ll never do a job like that again?”
Then Billy slid down to the ground again.
Afterwards Ralph Marshall could see that he went about from one of the men to the other, talking, and that in most cases the men shook their heads. But he could not hear either what Billy said, or his companion answered, when they were speaking directly to each other. It was due to the fact that Billy had been addressing the group and that he had been lifted up in the air, that had made his words audible to Ralph.
Whatever conclusion was finally reached Ralph eventually realized that the younger boy was intending to leave for home. For he solemnly went about and shook hands with each of the men, as if he were a personal friend. And, although some of them received the attention awkwardly, none of them refused it.
A little later Billy passed Ralph without observing him. He mounted his pony and began riding slowly toward Sunrise camp.
In about five minutes Ralph followed, but he allowed about twenty to elapse before he rode up alongside the younger boy.
When he did and Billy discovered his identity, he nodded in his impersonal but friendly fashion.
“Have you been on the lookout for me?” he inquired. “I had half an idea Tante would try to discover what I was doing, when I refused to tell her.
“She isn’t accustomed not to having her own way. Well, I am glad you did not run across me today. After this, perhaps, it won’t make much difference if I do give up my daily disappearances and remain at camp. I don’t think I can have any more influence as I have said all I have to say.”