CHAPTER XIII
Human Psychology
Billy Webster, who had difficulty in living peacefully and happily withthe people in his own walk of life, possessed a curious genius formaking himself popular with the so-called "working classes."
At first the workmen at the new National Guard camp paid no especialattention to the delicate looking boy who suddenly appeared among them.But in a short time Billy proved unexpectedly useful.
For one thing he made no effort to talk. He merely stood about in placeswhere he thought he might be of service, doing what he was told andasking no questions. Several times he displayed an intelligentinitiative. And when each man is trying to do the work of two or three,every small saving of unnecessary effort through some one else counts.
At the present time there were fifteen hundred laborers employed on thecantonment. They were building barracks and small wooden bungalows andlarge store-houses for provisions and supplies from the ordnance andquartermaster departments. Every hour or so freight had to be unloadedfrom cars, so that they might be removed from the tracks and others taketheir place.
The soldiers were more often employed in the construction of roads andthe clearing away of a century's growth of underbrush.
There was little in the camp that escaped Billy's quiet observation. Thevery fact that he did not talk, when ordinarily he had a passion as wellas a gift for conversation was in itself a suspicious circumstance.
For once in his life Billy was finding it more worth while to listen andreceive information rather than to impart his own ideas.
At first the great drawback was that the laborers did not have time, orelse they did not feel the inclination to talk at all seriously. Theywould simply exchange jokes with one another, or sing snatches ofpopular songs.
The laborers belonged to a company under bond to the government thatthere would be no traitors employed at the war camps. Therefore if themen held any views connected with the war, they gave no expression tothem. Moreover, the officers and soldiers were constantly in and outamong the men at all hours. Nevertheless, Billy became more and moreconvinced that if a man were willing to sacrifice his own life in casehe were discovered, it was impossible even with the strictestregulations to avoid the peril of a spy.
One day at lunch time the boy was sitting alone in the shadow made by apile of lumber, which afforded a little relief from the heat of the noonsun, when two of his fellow laborers came and sat down only a few feetaway. They saw him, of course, but seemed not to resent his presence;so, after smiling with the innocent, boyish expression peculiar to him,Billy continued eating. He brought his lunch with him every day in abasket as the other laborers did.
One of the two men, whom he thought a Swede, was rather an especialfriend, although the only fashion in which they so far had expressedtheir friendliness was by smiling whenever they met.
He was a dull, good-natured fellow, blond and mild of manner. "Seems apity to have to bring all these boys away from their homes and theirmothers and sweethearts to plant them down in this desert in the heat ofsummer," he remarked to his companion, after he had bitten off a largehunk of sour bread and was slowly chewing on it like a cud. Finally,taking out his soiled handkerchief, he wiped the perspiration from hisforehead.
"I have not been in the West very long, and it is sure enough God'scountry?" the blond workman went on. "But what a lot of waste landwaiting for men to water and then plough and sow it! I thought all thisdesert land was soon to be redeemed and now all the young men have to goaway from their own country into another land to fight. Sometimes it's ahard thing for a dull, common man to understand the good of war."
Billy stopped eating and slid over a few feet nearer. His blue eyes werebeginning to shine.
"Wouldn't it be great if each man who has pledged his life to serve hiscountry would do some deed which would _save_ life instead of _taking_it?" he demanded. Then Billy paused and grew hot and cold by turns. Hewas not very sure of what he was trying to argue except in a vaguefashion, and there was something about his last remark which held asuggestion of treason. He did not intend being disloyal. It was onlythat his preconceived ideas of right and wrong had been greatly troubledby the present war, and Billy was not willing to accept conditions as hefound them, possessing the spirit which must solve its own problems.
He reddened as he found his new acquaintances staring at himsuspiciously.
"Then you think peace brings the great mass of the people better fortunethan war?" asked the other man, who had been quiet until now. He was alittle, dark man, probably of Italian origin.
Billy hesitated. "I don't know," he answered, "I only believe peaceshould make men wiser and kinder to each other. But recently everythinghas gotten so dreadfully mixed in my mind, I can't be sure of anything.Perhaps I am mistaken."
"War has to be, young man," Billy's mild-mannered friend announced,nodding his head.
"Yes, that is what everybody says," the boy agreed.
Then the somewhat pointless conversation was obliged to end, as the hourfor lunch had passed.
Among the experiences which Billy Webster was particularly enjoying atthis time were his long walks back and forth from the place where he wasspending his nights to the scene of his daily labors.
For, literally, he only spent his nights at the Sunrise camp. He arrivedat home after the others had finished dinner, and rose and went awayeach morning just after daylight. But instead of the long, fatiguingwalks, added to the unusual work of the war camp, injuring Billy'shealth--never had he appeared so strong and well.
Not that any one, aside from his mother, was paying particular attentionto Billy's vagaries. Even Vera Lagerloff, for the first time in theirlong friendship, temporarily was neglecting Billy's welfare in herenthusiasm over the approaching production of "As You Like It."
However, Billy rejoiced in his new freedom.
He took pleasure in slipping out of his tent in the early morning,leaving Dan still asleep. Then he would prepare his own breakfast ofcoffee, fruit and eggs which were always left where he could readilyfind them. Afterwards, with his basket of lunch that his mother madeready the night before, Billy would move quietly off.
Even the dawns in this southwestern world were unlike the dawns Billyremembered in his own New Hampshire hills. Not that he would haveclaimed the New Hampshire hills as his possession because of a mereaccident of birth. Billy cared infinitely more for the softness, thewarmth and strangeness of this new country and climate than he had evercared for the austerity of New England. It was awakening in him newstrength and new purposes which so far he scarcely understood.
The way the dawn broke here in the western coast Billy particularlyloved; it was so serene. There was not the drear, melancholy darknessand then the swift coming of light. But first a pearl-gray mist coveredthe sky, afterwards lavender and rose shone behind it and finally a puregold, with the ocean as a mirror of the sky.
A part of the trip he could make by street car, nevertheless this leftmany miles to be traveled at either end of the line.
However, as Billy wished to think things out for himself, these walksafforded a wonderful opportunity. The difficulty of his life had alwaysbeen due to his refusal to accept any judgment except his own. Hehonestly could not understand why his family even thought they had theright to interfere with him. Yet now he was up against the great fact ofhuman discipline, the law which so often forces us to submit to a higherpower.
The boys at the National Guard camp were not much older than himself, atleast some of them were not. Nevertheless they were engaged upon taskswhich he knew must be hard and distasteful and were prepared to face farworse things later on. Some of them had thought the question over for along time, nearly three years in fact, until they were prepared to fightthe enemy, body and soul, to a finish. Others of the soldiers were notgiven to thinking, but were obeying a good fighting instinct. All ofthem, however, were acknowledging an authority higher than their own andobeying a higher will.
Ofte
n Billy wondered how he should feel if the war lasted long enough tomake the same demand upon him? Would he give up his belief in peace andthe unrighteousness of war to serve as a common soldier in the ranks?And even if he did do this, was it in him to make a good soldier, tosacrifice himself for a common cause? Sometimes Billy prayed to bedelivered from the test.
Yet whatever his own mental problems, there was one big fact of whichBilly became daily more assured and that was his tremendous personaladmiration for the new National Guard soldiers. Certainly theirs was theroad of heroism and self-sacrifice, while the pacifists, even if rightin principle, were skulking behind the protection the soldiers gave tothem.
There were moments when Billy became a little scornful of the pacifists,himself included, who preferred the easiest way.
Ordinarily the boy took his long tramps to and from camp alone, but onthe day after his brief conversation with the two workmen, the menjoined him at the close of the day, walking for a short distance one oneither side. Billy felt absurdly proud, as if the men at last regardedhim as one of them. They even spoke of labor unions in his presence andBilly was glad to announce that he approved of unions.
Afterwards, perhaps four or five days later, Billy did not return to theSunrise camp, even at the comparatively late hour which had become hishabit.
Mrs. Webster suffered a good deal of uneasiness. Billy explained that hehad been compelled to go into the nearest town on important business, soshe was not to worry. One could scarcely say beforehand what demands warwork might make upon one's time and strength.
Mrs. Webster steeled herself to bear the strain, even when Billy's newpassion for helping to win the war kept him away from the Sunrise campuntil nearly midnight for several nights in succession.
Just at this time she was extremely busy assisting with the preparationof the costumes for the Sunrise Camp Fire production of "As You LikeIt." In spite of the fact that Mrs. Burton had sent east for severaltrunks of costumes, there were many alterations to be made, and everymember of the entire cast, maid and man, asked of Mrs. Webster eitheradvice or aid, or both.
No matter how great her weariness, Mrs. Webster always remained awakeuntil her son's return, in order that she might know he was well andhave him eat a carefully saved-over dinner.
Gently Billy endeavored to persuade his mother to give up this plan,insisting that he always had food in town. But although Mrs. Webstermade no effort to interfere with his actions, on this one point she wasadamant. She must be sure that her son was safely at camp in order to beable to sleep.
Realizing this to be true, for several nights Billy returned to camp atthe usual time. Then a night arrived when he reached home even laterthan before.
It chanced that on this night, without Billy's being aware of the fact,Mrs. Burton and her cast had been going through a dress rehearsal oftheir play.
When Billy finally reached camp, the Sunrise Hill tents were dark andstill.
Yet to the left a camp fire was burning and a woman's figure was seatednear it.
A pang of remorse stirred Billy, in spite of his own weariness.
Coming forward with his arms outstretched, instead of his mother, hediscovered Vera Lagerloff.
"Goodness, Vera, I never saw you look so wonderful!" Billy exclaimed,bowing with the air of a courtier and a grace which he knew well how toassume.
For Vera was wearing a court costume, a skirt of a deep rose-coloredsatin and a polonaise and basque of white with a design of roses.
Her dark hair was piled high on her head and her cheeks were slightlyrouged, since every preparation for the actual stage performance hadbeen made.
Billy had never seen Vera so handsome, nor dreamed it possible that shecould ever look as she did tonight. But then Billy had thought little ofVera's appearance, or of that of any other girl. He had simply cared forher with a curious boyish selfishness and affection. Unconsciously healways planned his future with Vera beside him to hear of his trials andconquests, but had never thought of how this could be managed.
Yet tonight Vera paid no attention to his unusual flattery.
Her expression suggested annoyance and reproach.
"Wait here, Billy, I'll find you something to eat. I made your mother goto bed and she and Mrs. Burton agreed that I might wait for you."
But Billy would not let her go. "I'm not hungry, Vera. Besides you looklike a queen, not a kitchen maid. What's up? Fire away."
"That is what I wish to have you tell _me_," Vera returned, with thedeep and abiding gentleness, which usually overcame Billy's obstinacywhere other people and other methods failed.
He laughed. "I thought as much. Nothing doing, Vera. I am not going totell anybody anything. Yes, I know I promised not to get into mischiefagain, after that last escapade of mine. But what did it amount to,going to jail for a little while, it was merely an interestingexperience!"
Billy took Vera's hand in his own almost equally slender one, sinceVera's was the hand of a peasant ancestry and Billy's the opposite.
"See here, dear, I am not sorry to have you and mother and Tante beginworrying about me, fearing I am going to do something foolish. You neverseem to think me capable of anything else. But this time, between youand me, Vera, if I could tell you what is interesting me right now--andI confess it is not only my work at the war camp, although it has aclose connection--well, I don't believe you would consider me foolish."
"Then, why won't you tell me what is interesting you, Billy? You know Idon't always think ideas are foolish, but oftentimes I don't think yourjudgment wise. Besides, I am afraid something may happen to you!"
Billy shook his head, still holding her hand with boyish affection.
"These are war times, Vera. You and I used to disagree on thesubject--one of the first questions we have ever seriously disagreedupon since we were little children. Anyhow, what I am interested in atpresent has something to do with the war. I cannot tell you details, asI must not confide in any one just now. Only promise me you'll see thatmother does not worry and that neither she nor Tante makes a scene totry to force me into giving up my present work. I should simply go onwith it anyhow, Vera."
Vera sighed. The problem of Billy Webster had always been too much forother people. Was he in the future to become a problem too big for her?