“We ought to make him an honorary member of our Camp Fire group,” suggested Ruth gaily. “I’m going to propose it to him—”
“Not to-night,” cut in Jane. “He has gone to his shack. I saw him when he went. He didn’t even stop to say good-night, how, ugh, or anything else.”
“He’s a wise Indian. He knows what’s ahead of him to-morrow,” declared Anne.
“And so do we,” reminded Miss Drexal slyly. “It’s time for ‘Taps,’ girls. We must make the most of our bough beds while we have them. To-morrow night will find us sleeping in ordinary four-posters.”
“Just as soon as we get settled in the buckboard to-morrow for our ride back to Tower, I am going to make you girls decide that the next reunion is to be held at that incomparable hanging-out place of the Bliss Family, known as ‘Sweet Water Ranch.’” It was Frances who made this bold announcement.
“You won’t have a chance to say a word,” warned Sarah. “I shall do all the talking in favor of Red Rock Ranch, the home of the hospitable Mannings.”
“Don’t either of you be too sure. You may all find yourselves down in old Kentuck next summer,” asserted Jane stoutly. “The Pellews are going to have their chance at entertaining.”
During this lively controversy, Miss Drexal had slipped away from the would-be entertainers and entered the tents. The mournfully sweet call of “Lights Out” cut in two a spirited harangue to which Frances had been moved by Jane’s entering the lists.
“To be continued in the buckboard,” laughed Emmy.
“I name Frances now as the winner,” predicted Marian. “She has the original gift of gab uncommon strong.”