The Camp Fire Girls on the edge of the desert

by Margaret Vandercook

That instant she seized Gerry by the shoulders and, as she was much the stronger, threw her down in the sand, pinioning herself on top of her and holding her still. She was not a moment too soon, for almost at once the storm passed over them. And all this, of course, has taken longer in the telling than in the time of action.

The column of sand drew nearer, like a vast herald of disaster with the wind roaring behind it.

And in the face of the terrific sound, Marie began screaming.

It was so nonsensical and yet it set on edge the nerves of everybody who was close enough to hear her.

She was kneeling with her face buried in her hands, crying as loud as a frightened child, and occasionally murmuring a word or two of a Latin prayer, when she could gather sufficient self-control.

Mrs. Burton chanced not to be near enough to speak to her, but she did see Mr. Simpson go to Marie and sit down beside her. What he said must have had a somewhat soothing effect, for she did not cry quite so noisily, or it may have been that the storm was at the instant passing over them.

Any one who has ever experienced a western storm will tell you of having gone through almost the same physical experience. First, there is a terrible sense of oppression, then, a sound of a tremendous roaring in the ears and of heavy pressure, followed by a queer tingling and burning of the skin.

However, as a matter-of-fact, the Sunrise Camp Fire party did not meet the real force of the storm. In the eccentric fashion that a hurricane often shows, it turned as it neared their mesa and swerved toward the south. But they had at least a portion of it and were bathed in fine sand like a down-pouring of rain.

Yet the whole incident was over in such a little while! And the entire party got up almost simultaneously, as if they had been Mohammedans praying in the desert—the early morning prayer of every true follower of the Prophet. For it is the Mohammedan custom at a given moment at sunrise and at sunset to kneel and, burying the face in the hands, pray with the face turned toward Mecca. And, also, at a given moment, in Moslem countries the prayer is over with the ringing of a great muezzin bell.

Naturally, as Camp Fire guardian, Polly was most anxious to learn the effects of the past few moments upon the girls, whose welfare she took almost too seriously perhaps.