CHAPTER I
Flower of Gold
The last flames of the camp fire were slowly dying. But, as the sun was sinking, the little space in the woods surrounding the fire was lit with the color of flame.
A girl sat there alone in her ceremonial camp fire dress. A band of bright gold braid bound her head. One could learn from the insignia on her costume that she was already a torch bearer. Above the orange and red of the flame was the touch of white in her emblem, portraying the ascending smoke. She was like a guardian spirit of the fire.
Perhaps she may have been dreaming or merely repeating something aloud to herself. For, seated on the ground, the girl was leaning forward with her chin resting in her hand, and, although her eyes were closed, a book lay open in her lap. Between the leaves of the book was a sheet of paper upon which some lines were written in lead pencil. Here and there a word was marked out and another inserted in its place.
Finally the camp fire girl, unclosing her eyes, picked up this paper and, after first glancing around to be sure that the trees and grass about her had no ears, read aloud in a low voice:
In the moon of the peach blossoms,
Towards the land of the setting sun,
Ghosts of old camp fires keep calling;
Camp fires whose race has been run.
I can see the sands of the desert;