July’s golden sun had faded and the blistering dog-days’ sun of August arrived, and with it the time for the Sunrise Camp Fire girls and their guardian to make their pilgrimage to the nearby Indian villages to witness their August ceremonial dances. For then the Indian priests performed great magic that the gods might send down much rain on the corn crops.
Therefore, under the direction of Mr. Jefferson Simpson, the Camp Fire tents were transferred from the neighborhood of Cottonwood Creek to the valley near the base of the three mesas, where the five Hopi villages stand.
The Camp Fire party went a few days in advance of any of the important ceremonies, knowing a great number of tourists would come crowding in as the time of the flute and snake dances drew near.
It was the evening of the second day after their arrival at the new tenting place, and Mrs. Burton and her niece were taking a walk a little after their camp fire supper. The other girls were busy with the work, but Polly had asked that Peggy be spared to her.
They were strolling along hand in hand, like two girls, looking up toward the summit of a mesa several hundred feet in height. To the north and left was the largest of the Hopi villages—the town of Oraibi. Below in the valley were the cornfields of the Indians, now tall and green, although with only small ears of corn showing on the waving stalks. Here, also, were their peach orchards and gardens.
But the woman and girl had come away from these and were walking along a road almost at the bottom of the mesa. It was difficult to see the village in detail from below, as the houses seemed to be colored like the living rock.
“Tewa says his town of Oraibi was on this very spot, in 1540, when Coronado discovered the province of Tusayan,” Peggy remarked. She was in a reflective mood, since neither she nor her aunt had been talking for the past five minutes, so intent were they both on the strangeness of their surroundings. “Odd, isn’t it, Tante, that the civilization out here is really older than one finds in many places in Europe, only we know so little of it. You’ll take me to Europe some day, won’t you?”
Polly nodded. “Take you any place in the world you wish to go, Peggy mine, if I am free and you think you love me enough to endure my society. Sometimes I am afraid, however, I am not a very successful Camp Fire guardian. What do you girls honestly think of me?”
Polly looked directly at her niece and her lips twitched, a little with amusement and a little with concern.
One knew that, to a straightforward question, Peggy Webster was unable to return anything but a truthful answer. She flushed slightly.