“Wait until you visit the Alameda ranch, and then you’ll know why. Nobody can explain it.”
Miss Calvert knew where they were going, and Polly wondered and wondered why she never spoke of it, never talked about her sister, or sent messages out to her. But she did not ask questions, much as she longed to.
Finally, after eight strenuous and industrious weeks, school closed, and they could turn with free hearts to the journey. Each girl had followed Miss Murray’s advice, and bought a pair of stout, high boots for rugged walking and climbing, and a short khaki skirt, buttoning on the side, with pockets, and bloomers of the same material.
“These are what all the girl-scouts wear, with shirtwaists, and belts,” Jean told them. “And from now on that is what you must be, girl-scouts and ranchers.”
Each girl took a suit-case, and Polly was rigid in her inspection rules on the contents. Unnecessary articles were strictly tabooed. Underwear, kimonos, one best dress apiece, toilet articles, a few favorite books, and that was about all she permitted them.
“Land, I should suttinly say you chilluns were going to rough it,” said Aunty Welcome, indignantly, as she looked over Polly’s outfit. “What you-all gwine to do if a big snake gets you by yo’ hind heel?”
“Dance, Aunty,” Polly answered, merrily. “I’m sure we’d dance. Maybe that’s how the Snake Dance first started. Don’t you wish you were going along with us?”
“Mis’ Polly chile, I declar’, I wouldn’t go wanderin’ an’ a-mousin’ ’round de face ob de earth like dat, not for de world. But it makes mah ole heart ache when I think how mah lamb’s going away for de first time in her natural life from her ole mammy.”
“Don’t you cry, dear,” Polly begged, putting her arms around Aunty’s neck in a vigorous hug of sympathy. “I’ll be so careful, and I’ll remember everything—not to climb trees, not to hunt bears, not to get too friendly with Indians, not to—”
“Go ’long, you’s jest laughing now. Ah ain’t got a mite ob confidency in yo’. Go ’long, chile.”