The Children of Cupa

SUMMER PLANS.--THE CUPEÑOS.

The mother had been very ill, and the question was, where shall we take her so that she may get thoroughly well? It must be some place where the family might accompany her. She had declared that she would not go without papa and Nellie and Walter.

It was nearing the close of schooltime, and papa's yearly vacation was at hand, so there would be no difficulty on that score. Some one had suggested Santa Monica as affording a complete change of scene, but the doctor tabooed that place and she herself did not care for it.

"She is already too near the sea," the man of medicine said. "She needs entire change; she would only grow ill again and nervous amid the clatter of hotel life and the crowds on the beach."

"But we might take a cottage," suggested Aunt Mary.

"Yes--I know those seaside cottages," said the doctor, "that is, those which are built to rent for the season. A few boards thrown together, and only a pretence made of papering the walls inside--draughts rushing through the rooms continually and underneath the house as well. Why, my dear sir, you can actually see the carpet rising in waves from the floor. They are all erected on piles, you know. No seaside cottage for our invalid--no, indeed."

"What do you say to the mountains, doctor?" asked Mr. Page.

"The very thing," was the reply. "But there are objections to be made in that case also. Accommodations are not usually comfortable--the food is always plentiful, but not always choice."

"I was thinking of camping," said Mr. Page. "I have a complete camping outfit and at my call a man, Charlie Dorner, who is the prince of cooks. He is, besides, a fine general utility man--can do anything."

"That would be the ideal; but," sighed the doctor, "I wish I could go along."

"And so you can; or join us later."

"Well, we'll see about that. Just now we're talking of Mrs. Page. If you have an outfit of your own you need not be at anybody's mercy. But you must not choose too high a location, nor where it is likely to be too warm, nor an utterly inaccessible place. By that I mean she must not be too far from the railroad--or her doctor. What do you say to the Springs? I have an idea that the air and the hot water together would complete her cure."

"The air!" exclaimed Aunt Mary. "Why, it is only fourteen miles from here; there can't be any difference in the atmosphere. Besides, those springs are in a valley; you can't have seen them. The fogs are dreadful in the early morning I have been told."

"Not at my Springs," said the doctor with a smile. "I'm speaking of Warner's Ranch, although I've stayed at the others and have seen wondrous cures effected there, I assure you."

Aunt Mary had not been long in California, but she was fond of "reading up," and she had been reading about Warner's Ranch.

"Do you mean the springs which belong, or were supposed to belong, to the Indians, from whose possession they are now going to be taken?"

"Yes," replied the doctor; "and I think the whole proceeding is an infamous outrage."

Nellie and Walter had been sitting quietly listening to their elders. But at this point in the conversation Walter, who was thirteen, exclaimed:

"Oh, papa, let us go there, won't you?

"Just think, Aunt Mary," he continued, "it is a regular Indian village, and in the summer the Indians move out of their houses and rent them to the white people. I knew a boy who lived in one, and he said it was fine. Wouldn't it be grand making believe to be an Indian!"

"I sympathize with those poor creatures very much," said Aunt Mary. "I think it is heartless to evict them from their homes; but I don't believe I should care to occupy one of the houses. It might not be clean, you know."

"Well, that's as may be," said the doctor. "I have known persons loud in their praises of the place, and others whining about dirt and discomfort. You would not be subject to anything of that kind. You would have your large, clean, comfortable tents."

"Let's tell mother. Let's ask her if she would like to go," said Nellie, speaking for the first time.

"Of course she'll like it; she's certain to like it," cried Walter, springing to his feet. They were not long in ascending the stairs, though they went quietly, having become accustomed to making as little noise as possible during their mother's long and serious illness. Now that she was so much better they had not renounced the habit, which had become a sort of second nature to them.

"Come in," said a sweet, low voice as Nellie tapped on the door. In a moment they were both kneeling beside the lounge where their mother lay.

"You don't feel very bad this afternoon, mamma?" inquired Walter, anxiously.

"Oh, no," she replied. "On the contrary, I am feeling particularly well and strong to-day. But the doctor says I must lie down the greater part of the time. I thought I heard his voice just now. Hasn't he gone yet?"

"No; that's why we came, mother," said Nellie. "They're discussing things in the library. They think now they'll take you to Warner's Hot Springs, and we want you to go there, we do, badly. Oh, it will be great fun."

"Papa is talking of getting out the tents and the camping wagon and taking Charlie Dorner along. Oh, it will be lots of fun. I hope you like the plan."

"I am sure I shall like it," replied their mother. "I am very fond of camping. Don't you remember the summer we spent at Broad Beach?"

"Yes, that was lots of fun," said Walter. "But that wasn't anything to what this will be. Fancy, mother, an Indian village--a real Indian one. And you can live in their houses if you want to--though Aunt Mary says she doesn't believe they are very clean."

"We would have our tents," said Nellie. "Dr. Madden says he thinks the water would do you a great deal of good, mother."

"I feel better already," said the mother, sitting up and smoothing back her hair. "I want to start at once."

They all laughed, and presently the children were seated beside her, each holding a hand, wondering when everything would be in readiness for the start.

"We don't have to get any new clothes, do we?" inquired Nellie, to whom the bugbear of a summer outfit was receding into the background.

"No; we shall wear our oldest things," replied the mother. "Still, we shall not aim to make scarecrows of ourselves, my dear, as some people really seem to do when they go camping."

The children laughed again. "As though you could make a scarecrow of yourself!" exclaimed Nellie, looking fondly at her fair, delicate mother in her dainty white wrapper, and shoulder shawl of soft, scarlet wool.

"But suppose they would put the Indians out while we are there; then what would we do, mother?" asked Nellie. "I couldn't bear to be near and see it," said the tender-hearted child. "I think it's dreadful, don't you, mother?"

"Yes, it is," rejoined her mother. "Yet it does not seem possible to avoid it."

"Tell us about it, mother, will you?" pleaded Walter. "There has been much fuss over it in the papers. Why do the Indians have to go away from this place where they have lived so long?"