The Camp Fire Girls on the Farm by Jane L. Stewart

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[Illustration: She turned--and looked up into the evil eyes of Farmer
Weeks.]

CAMP FIRE GIRLS SERIES, VOLUME II

The Camp Fire Girls On the Farm

or

Bessie King's New Chum

by

JANE L. STEWART

* * * * *

THE SAALFIELD PUBLISHING COMPANY
Chicago AKRON, OHIO New York
MADE IN U.S.A.

COPYRIGHT, MCMXIV
BY
THE SAALFIELD PUBLISHING CO.

* * * * *

The Camp Fire Girls On the Farm

CHAPTER I

IN THE CITY

"I never dreamed of such a lovely room, Zara, did you?"

Bessie King, her eyes open with admiration and wonder, asked her chum
the question in a room in the home of Eleanor Mercer, Guardian of the
Manasquan Camp Fire, of the Camp Fire Girls. Both the girls were new
members of the organization, and Bessie, who had lived all her life in
the country, and had known nothing of the luxuries and comforts that
girls in the city, or the luckier ones of them, at least, take almost as
a matter of course, had found something new to astonish her in almost
every hour since they had come to the city.

"I've dreamed of it--yes," said Zara. "You see I've been in the city
before, Bessie; and I've seen houses like this, and I've guessed that
the rooms inside must be something like this, though I never lived in
one. It's beautiful."

"I almost wish we were going to stay here, Zara. But I suppose it will
be nice when we go to the farm."

Eleanor Mercer, who had been standing for a moment in the doorway, came
in then, laughing merrily. She had overheard the remark, and Bessie was
greatly distressed when she discovered it.

"Oh, Miss Eleanor!" she exclaimed. "Please, please don't think I'm
ungrateful. I want to do whatever you think is right--"

"I know that, Bessie, and I know just what you were thinking, too. Well,
you're going to have a surprise--I can promise you that. This farm isn't
a bit like the farm you know about. I guess you know too much about one
sort of farm to want ever to see another, don't you?"

"Maybe there are different sorts of farms," admitted Bessie. "I don't
like Paw Hoover's kind."

Eleanor laughed again. She was a fresh, bright-cheeked girl, not so many
years older than Bessie herself. One might guess, indeed, that she, as
Guardian of her Camp Fire, didn't much more than manage to fulfill the
requirement that Guardians, like Scoutmasters among the Boy Scouts, must
be over twenty-one years of age.

"Indeed there are different sorts of farms from that one, Bessie," she
said. "You'll see a farm where everything is done the way it should be,
and, while I think Paw Hoover's a mighty nice man, I've got an idea that
on his farm everything is done just about opposite to the proper
fashion."

"When are we going, Miss Eleanor?"

Zara asked that question. In the last few days a hunted look had left
Zara's eyes, for with relief from certain worries she had begun to be
happier, and she was always asking questions now.

"I don't know exactly, Zara, but not right away. We want all the girls
to go out together. We're going to have our next Council Fire at the
farm. And some of them can't get away just now. But it will be fairly
soon, I can promise you that. You like the country, don't you, Zara?"

"Indeed I do, Miss Eleanor! Until they took my father away I was ever so
happy there."

"And just think, you're going to see him tomorrow, Zara! He's well, and
as soon as he heard that you were here and safe, he stopped worrying.
That was his chief trouble--he seemed to think more about what would
happen to you than that he was in trouble himself."

"I knew he'd be thinking about me," said Zara, "He always did, even when
he had most to bother him."

"I was sure he was a good father, Zara, when I heard you talk about
him--and I've been surer of it than ever since I've had a chance to find
out about him. My cousin, who's a lawyer, you know, is going to see that
he is properly treated, and be says that Mr. Weeks, who tried so hard to
make you stay behind and work for him, is at the bottom of all the
trouble."

Zara shuddered at the name.

"How I hate that Farmer Weeks!" she exclaimed.

Eleanor Mercer sighed and shook her head. She couldn't blame Zara for
hating the man, and yet, as she well knew, the spirit in the little
foreign girl that cherished hatred and ideas of revenge was bad--bad for
her. But how to eradicate it, and to make Zara feel more charitable,
was something that puzzled the Guardian mightily, was, as she foresaw,
likely to puzzle her still more. She left the two girls together, then,
to answer a call from outside the room.

"I don't exactly _like_ Farmer Weeks myself," said Bessie,
thoughtfully, when they were alone. "But what's the use of hating him,
Zara?"

"Why, Bessie! He made us run away from Hedgeville--he made me anyhow.
And if he'd had his way, he'd have taken me back, and had me bound over
to work for him just for board until I was twenty-one, if I hadn't
starved to death first. You know what a miser he is."

"Yes, that's true enough, Zara. But, after all, if it hadn't happened
that way, we'd never have met Miss Eleanor and the Camp Fire Girls,
would we? And you're not sorry for that, are you?"

Zara's face, which had grown hard, softened.

"No, indeed, Bessie! They're the nicest people I ever did know, except
you. But, even after we were with them, and had started to come to the
city with them, he caught me, and if it hadn't been for you following us
and guessing where he'd put me, I'd be with him now."

"Well, you're not, Zara. And you want to try to think of the good things
that happen. Then you won't have time to remember all the bad things,
and they won't bother you any more than if they'd never happened at all.
Don't you see!"

"Well, I'll try, Bessie. I guess they can't hurt us here, anyhow, or on
the farm. I think we're going to have lots of fun on the farm."

"I hope so, Zara. But I've often read about how jolly farms are--in
books. In the books, you don't have to get up at four o'clock on the
cold winter mornings to do chores, and you don't have to work all the
time, the way I had to do for Maw Hoover."

"I guess that was just because it was Maw Hoover, Bessie, and not
because it was on a farm. She'd have been mean to you, and made you work
all the time, just the same, if it had been a farm or wherever it was. I
think it's people that make you happy or unhappy, not other things."

"I guess that's about right, Zara. I'm awfully glad you're going to see
your father in the morning. I bet he'll be glad to see you."

"Bessie! Zara!" Miss Eleanor was calling from downstairs, and they ran
to answer the call.

"Come into the parlor," she said, as she heard them approaching.

They obeyed, and found her talking to a tall, good looking young man,
who smiled cheerfully at them.

"This is my cousin, Charlie Jamieson, the lawyer, girls," said Miss
Eleanor. "I've told him all about you, of course, and now he wants to
talk to you."

"I'm going to be your lawyer, you know," Charlie Jamieson explained.
"Girls like you don't have much use for a lawyer, as a rule, but I guess
you need one about as badly as anyone I can think of. So I'm going to
take the job, unless you know someone better."

"No, indeed," they chorused in answer, and both laughed when they saw
that he was joking.

"I wish about a thousand other people were as anxious as that to be my
clients. Then maybe I'd make enough money to pay my office rent."

"Don't you believe him, girls," said Eleanor, laughing, too. "He's one
of the smartest young lawyers in this town, and he's busy most of the
time, too. He always is, lately, when I want him to come to one of my
parties or anything like that."

"Well, let's be serious for a while," said Jamieson. "I'm going to try
to help your father out of his trouble, Zara, and I'm finding it pretty
hard, because he doesn't want to trust me, or tell me much of anything.
Perhaps you'll be able to do better."

Zara looked grave.

"I don't know much," she said. "But I do know this. My father used to
trust people, but they've treated him so badly that he's afraid to do it
any more. Like Farmer Weeks--I think' he trusted him."

"That's more than I'd do," said the lawyer, with a grin, "From all I've
heard of him I wouldn't trust him around the corner with a counterfeit
nickel--if I wanted it back. And--well, that sort of helps to get us
started, doesn't it? You know why your father's in trouble? It's because
they say he's been making bad money at that little house where you lived
in Hedgeville."

"He didn't!" said Zara. "I know he didn't!"

"Well, the district attorney--he's the one who has to be against your
father, you know--says that everyone in Hedgeville seems to think he
did. And he says that where there's so much smoke there must be some
fire; that if so many people think your father was crooked, they must be
right. I told him that was unfair, but he just laughed at me."

"You may have to be a witness, Zara," said Eleanor.

"A witness?" said Zara, puzzled.

"Yes. You may have to go to court, and tell them what you know. They'll
ask you questions, though, and you'll just have to answer them, and tell
the truth just as you know it."

"Yes, that's why I'm here," said Jamieson, nodding his head. "You see, I
may need you very badly and I want to make sure that they can't take you
back to Hedgeville. You never saw anyone who told you that as long as
your father couldn't look after you any more, you would have to stay
with this Weeks, did you? A judge, I mean?"

"No. But when Farmer Weeks caught me that time, and carried me away in
his buggy, he said he was going to take me to Zebulon--that's the county
seat, you know--and have everything fixed up. But Bessie got me away
from him before that could happen, so it was all right."

"And when he came after you at Pine Bridge--after you'd crossed the line
into this state--the policeman there wouldn't let him touch you, would
he?"

"No. Farmer Weeks showed him a paper, with a big red seal on it, but the
policeman said it was no good in this state."

"That sounds all right. I guess they can't touch you. I had to make sure
of that, you see. But, young lady, you want to be mighty careful. If
they can get you over the state line, no matter how, they've got you.
And I shouldn't be surprised if they tried just to kidnap you."

Eleanor Mercer looked frightened.

"Do you think there is any real danger, Charlie?" she asked.

"I certainly do. And it's because I don't know just what it is they're
after. There's something funny here, something we don't know about at
all yet. Maybe her father could tell us, but he isn't ready to do it.
And I don't blame him much. I guess, from all I've heard, that he's had
about as bad a time here with spies and enemies as he could have had
anywhere in Europe."

"You hear that, Zara? You must be very careful. Don't go out alone, and
if anyone tries to speak to you, no matter what they tell you, you pay
no attention to them. If they keep on bothering you, speak to a
policeman, if there's one around, and say that you want him to stop them
from bothering you."

"Good idea," said Charlie Jamieson. "And if you do have to speak to a
policeman, you mention my name. They all know me, and I guess most of
them like me well enough to do any little favor for a friend of mine."

Then Jamieson turned to Bessie.

"We've got to think about your case, too," he said. "Miss Mercer tells
me that you don't know what's become of your father and mother. Just
what do you know about them?"

"Not very much," said Bessie, bravely, although the disappearance of her
parents always weighed heavily on her mind. "When I was a little bit of
a girl they left me with the Hoovers, at Hedgeville, and I lived with
them after that. Maw Hoover said they promised to come back for me, and
to pay her board for looking after me until they came, and that they did
pay the board for a while. But then they stopped writing altogether, and
no one has heard from them for years."

"H'm! Where did the last letter they wrote come from?"

"San Francisco. I've heard Maw Hoover say that, often. But that was
years and years ago."

"Well, that's better than nothing, anyhow. You see, the Hoovers wouldn't
have known how to start looking for them, even if they'd been
particularly anxious to do it."

"And I don't believe they were," said Eleanor Mercer, indignantly. "They
treated her shamefully, Charlie--made her work like a hired girl, and
never paid her for it, at all. Instead, they acted, or the woman did,
anyhow, just as if they were giving her charity in letting her stay
there. Wasn't that an outrage?"

"Lots of people act as if they were being charitable when they get a
good deal more than they give," said the lawyer dryly.

"Maw Hoover was always calling me lazy, and saying she'd send me to the
poor-farm," said Bessie. "But it was she and Jake that made things so
hard. Paw Hoover was always good to me, and he helped me to get away,
too."

"That's what I'm driving at," said Jamieson. "You had a right to go
whenever you liked, if they hadn't adopted you, or anything like that.
Really, all you were in their place was a servant who wasn't getting
paid."

"I knew she had a right to go," said Eleanor. "That's why I helped her,
of course."

"Then we're all right. If she'd really run away from someone who had
a right to keep her, it would be harder. I might be able to prove that
they weren't fit guardians, but that's always hard, and it's a good
thing we don't need to do it. Hullo, what's the matter now?"

"Look!" said Zara, who had risen, and was looking keenly at a figure
across the street. "See, Bessie, don't you know who that is, even in
those clothes?"

Bessie followed her eyes, and started to her feet.

"It's Jake Hoover!" she cried. "What can he want here?"

CHAPTER II

AN OLD ENEMY TURNS UP

Startled and frightened by Bessie's cry, Eleanor jumped up and followed
her to the window.

"Well," said Eleanor, "I never saw him before, but I can't say I'm sorry
for that. He looks mean enough to do all the things you've told us about
him, Bessie."

"Who is this Hoover? One of the people Bessie lived with, in
Hedgeville?" asked Jamieson.

"Yes; he's the son of the old farmer and his wife."

"H'm!" said the lawyer. "Then evidently he knows where she has come.
That looks bad."

"Yes. You see, he was always his mother's pet," said Eleanor, "and I
suppose he'll tell her all about the girls."

"Let him! I guess it can't do any harm. I don't see how it can now,
anyhow, unless he's in with this Weeks or someone we don't know anything
about, who has some interest in this affair. That's one of the things
that's going to give me trouble, I'm afraid."

"What do you mean, Charlie?"

"Just that there's so much I don't know. You see, there's something
mighty queer loose here. I can see that. There's a mystery and we
haven't the key. The chances are that the people we've got to fight know
everything there is to be known, while we don't even know who they are,
except this Weeks. And I'm not a bit sure about him."

"I am, Charlie. If you'd seen him, and heard all about the way he acted,
you'd know he was an enemy all right."

"That's not just what I mean, Eleanor. I'm thinking that perhaps he
isn't just making this fight on his own account; that maybe he's working
for someone else."

"I hadn't thought of that at all--"

"No reason why you should! But it's my business to think of every little
thing that may happen to have an influence on any case that I'm mixed up
in, you see. And, as I understand it, this Weeks is pretty close--pretty
fond of money, isn't he?"

"He's a regular old miser, that's what he is!" said Zara, her eyes
flashing.

"There's a motive for him, you see. Someone might have a reason for
wanting to keep Zara where they could get her easily, and if they
offered Weeks a little money to get hold of her, I judge he'd do it fast
enough."

"But why shouldn't they try to get hold of her themselves, if that's
what they want?"

"There might be lots of reasons for that. They might want to keep out of
it, so that no one would know they were doing it, you see. That would be
one reason. And then this Weeks is a bit of a politician. He's got a
good, strong pull in that county, I guess. Lots of men who have a little
money saved up can get a pull. They lend money, and then they can make
the men to whom they lend it do about as they like, by threatening to
take their land away from them if they don't pay up their mortgages as
soon as they're due. It's pretty bad business, but that's the way things
are. I'm afraid we're going to have a lot of trouble, and until I know
just what's what, I've got to do a lot of my work in the dark. But I'm
going to do my best."

"I know how Jake Hoover found I was here, I bet," said Bessie, who had
been thinking hard.

"How, Bessie?"

"Well, you know General Seeley thought I'd frightened his pheasants and
taken the eggs. And then, later, I found Jake was the one. General
Seeley didn't punish him, but let him go with a warning."

"He's too soft-hearted," commented Jamieson, angrily. "A lad like that
ought to be sent to the reformatory--proper place for him!"

"Well, anyhow," Bessie resumed, smiling at the young lawyer's vehemence,
and at the look of approval that Zara shot at him, since she had felt
just the same way about Jake, "he was turned away, and I guess he just
hung around to see what I'd do, and where I'd go. I think he'd like to
get even with me, if he could."

"He'd better behave himself if he's going to stay around here," said
Jamieson. "His mother won't be around to make people believe that he
hasn't done anything wrong, and he won't find everyone as lenient and
forgiving as General Seeley when he's caught in the act of doing
something he can be sent to jail for. Not if I've got anything to say
about it, he won't!"

"I don't believe he'll be able to stay around here very long," said
Bessie, pacifically. "It must cost him a lot of money to stay here in
the city, and I don't know how he can manage that. Maw Hoover always
gave him money whenever he wanted it, if she had it, but she never had
very much."

"That's good," said the lawyer. "We'll hope that he'll be starved out
pretty soon, and have to go home. But I guess we'd better not count very
much on that. He may find someone who's anxious enough to make trouble
for you two to pay him to stay here for a while. He'd be pretty useful,
I imagine."

"I think we're foolish to do so much guessing," said Eleanor, suddenly.
"You can know much better what to do when you've really found something
out, Charlie. Now, listen. I was thinking of letting these two go to
work for a little while before we went to the farm, so that they could
earn some money for themselves."

"Yes," said Bessie and Zara, in one breath, eagerly. "We're so anxious
to do that. We mustn't keep on living here and taking charity--"

But the lawyer shook his head vigorously.

"Not right away," he said. "It's just because I'm doing so much guessing
that we mustn't take any chances, Eleanor. You want to keep them close
to you for a while. I spoke about that before Bessie saw our young
friend Hoover, and I think so more than ever now. Don't you see that
they're being spied on already?"

"I certainly do," said Eleanor. "And I just want to do whatever is best
for them. Bessie, you mustn't think you're getting charity when you stay
here. You're here as my guests, and we love to have you--both of you."

"That's right, Bessie," said Jamieson, smiling. "She means that, or she
wouldn't say it. I can tell you you were mighty lucky when you ran into
Eleanor the way you did."

"We know that, Mr. Jamieson; we do, indeed!"

"Nonsense!" said Eleanor, flushing, but not really displeased by the
compliment, which was evidently sincere. "I believe anyone would have
done just what I did."

"I wish I had your faith in human nature, Eleanor, but I haven't and I
know that mighty few people would have been willing to do it, even if
they'd been able. You've got to remember that, too. Lots of people
couldn't have done what you did. Well, I've got to be going."

"You'll call for us tomorrow, though, won't you, Charlie, to take Zara
to see her father?"

"Yes, indeed. I won't fail you. He's looking forward to it, and I've got
an idea, or I hope, at least, that when he finds I've kept my promise
and brought Zara to see him, he'll feel more like trusting me."

"I'm sure he will when I tell him how good you've been to us, Mr.
Jamieson," said Zara.

"Better not tell him about my goodness until I've done something beside
talk, Zara. But I'm going to do my best anyhow, and I'm sure things will
come out right in the end. Just keep smiling, be cheerful, and don't
worry any more than you can help."

From the porch they watched him walk off down the street. He carried
himself like the athlete he was, and his broad shoulders and fine, free
stride were those of a man who inspires confidence and trust, even in
those who only see his back.

"Look!" said Zara, suddenly. "Why is Jake Hoover going down that way?
And isn't he acting queerly?"

"Why, I believe he's following Mr. Jamieson!" said Bessie. "See, he
keeps getting behind trees and things, and he's staying on the other
side of the street. Whenever Mr. Jamieson turns, Jake hides himself."

Eleanor frowned thoughtfully.

"I think you're right, Bessie," she said. "And I know what I'm going to
do. I'm going to telephone to his office and tell his clerk to slip out
and meet him, so that he can warn him. He ought to know about that."

She went in hurriedly to use the telephone.

"I'm going upstairs to get my handkerchief," said Zara. "My, isn't it
warm?"

So Bessie was left alone on the piazza. She was afraid of Jake Hoover;
afraid of the mischief he might do, that is. No longer was she afraid of
him as she had been in the old days on the farm, when he had bullied her
and made her the scapegoat for all the offences he could possibly load
on her slim shoulders. One night in the woods, when Bessie, wrapped in a
sheet and playing ghost, had frightened Jake and his mischievous friends
away before they could terrify the Camp Fire Girls as they lay asleep,
had taught Bessie that Jake was a coward.

"It's Zara they're after--not me," Bessie thought to herself. "I've been
out alone ever and ever so often, and there's no one here to hurt me.
I'm going to go after Jake myself, and try to see what he's up to."

At first Bessie's pursuit led her along the pleasant, tree-shaded
streets of the suburb where the Mercers lived. Bessie had never been
in the city before and all was strange to her. But here it seemed to
her that the stories she had read of crowded streets must have been
exaggerated, for she saw few people. Sometimes automobiles passed her,
and delivery wagons, and a few children were playing here and there. But
there were no high buildings, and it seemed almost as peaceful as it had
around Hedgeville.

But then gradually, as she went on, conditions changed. She crossed a
street on which there ran a street car line, and there many people were
passing. Still she managed to keep Jake Hoover in sight, and, though she
could not always see Charlie Jamieson, she supposed that Jake could, and
it was Jake she was following, after all.

More than once Jake turned and looked behind him, and Bessie had to be
constantly on her guard lest he discover her. At first it was easy
enough to escape his eye--she had only to dodge behind a tree. But as
she drew nearer and nearer to the business part of town the trees began
to disappear. There was no more green grass between the pavement and the
street itself; the pavements were narrower, and they were needed for the
crowds that passed quickly along. But in those very crowds Bessie found
a substitute for the trees. She felt that they would protect her and
cover her movements, and she increased her pace, so that she could get
nearer to Jake, and so run less risk of losing him in the crowd.

No one paid any attention to her, and that seemed strange to Bessie,
used to the curiosity of country folk regarding any stranger, although
Zara, who knew more about city life, had told her that it would be so.
She was grateful, anyhow; she wanted to be let alone. And evidently Jake
was profiting by the same indifference.

Her chase led her before long into the most thickly settled part of the
city. Trolley cars clanged past her all the time now; the center of the
street was full of vehicles of all sorts, and, as she hurried along, she
was hard put to it to keep her feet, so great was the rush and the hurry
of those with whom she shared the pavement.

Then she came to a sort of central square, where all the business of
the town seemed to be concentrated. On one side was a great building.
Outside were cabs and newsboys, and Bessie recognized it as the station
through which, with Eleanor Mercer and the rest of the Camp Fire Girls,
she had come to the city. Bessie stopped at the curb, dazed and
confused. Here she lost sight of Jake.

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