east, who claimed his head was big­ger than Daniel Webster’s.”

“Yuck!” Dawn said with a shudder. “And what about that other thing you said—a friendologist or something. What’s that?”

“Phrenologist, not friend,” Kelly corrected. “Phrenology was a supposed science that’s now considered bogus. During the eigh­teen hundreds, phrenologists believed they could tell how people would behave by studying the size and shape of their heads.

“But getting back to the Apaches, you have to remember that history books are usually written by the winners. That’s why Indi­ans always end up being the bad guys while the U.S. soldiers who turned the various tribes out of their native lands are regarded as heroes or martyrs.”

“You mean like General Custer?” Cassie asked.

Kelly smiled. “Exactly,” she said. “Now, tomorrow Amber and I will be leading a hike up to the ruins of Fort Bowie. But wher­ever you go tomorrow or later on, when you visit places like the Wonderland of Rocks or Cochise Stronghold, I want you to bear in mind that Anglos weren’t the first people here. I’d like you to look at the land around here and try to see it through some of those other people’s points of view.”

Abruptly, Kelly Martindale sat down. After that, Mrs. Lambert saw to it that the evening turned into the usual kind of campfire high jinks. There were games and songs and even an impromptu skit. Finally, a little after ten, she told the girls it was time for lights-out and sent them off to their tents.

“It’s too early to go to bed,” Dora muttered, as she and Jenny approached their tent. “I never go to bed at ten o’clock. I’m going for a walk.”

“You can’t do that,” Jenny said. “You’ll get it in trouble.”

“Who’s going to tell?” Dora demanded. “You? Besides, I need a cigarette. If I smoke it here, Mrs. Lambert or those two snooty college girls who think they’re so rad might smell the smoke and make me put it out because I might start a fire or something. You wanna come along?”

Jenny was torn. On the one hand, she didn’t want to get into trouble. On the other hand, she wasn’t ready to go to sleep yet, either. Not only that, their tent seemed to be far enough away from the others that it was possible no one would notice if they crept out for a little while.

“I’ll go,” she said after a moment’s hesitation. “But first we’d better climb into our bedrolls and pretend like we’re going to sleep.”

“Why?”

“Because I’ll bet Mrs. Lambert will come around to check on us, that’s why.”

“Okay,” Dora grumbled. “We’ll do it your way.”

It turned out Jenny was right. Ten minutes after they lay down on their bedrolls, they heard the stealthy rustle of shoe leather approaching through dry grass. Moments later, the light from a flashlight flickered on the outside of the tent..

“Everybody tucked in?” Faye Lambert asked.

“Tucked in,” Jenny returned. With the tent flap closed, the stench of Dora’s body odor was almost more than Jenny could bear. She could hardly wait for their leader to go away so they could slip back out into the open air.

“Well, good night then,” Mrs. Lambert said. “I’ve made out the duty roster. The two of you will be cleaning up after breakfast. Is that all right?”

“It’s fine,” Dora told her. “I’m better at cleaning up than I am at cooking.”

The flashlight disappeared. Jenny listened to the sound of Mrs. Lambert’s retreating footsteps and then to the slight squeak as the door to the motor home opened and closed. Kelly Martindale and Amber Summers were sleeping in their own two-man tent. Mrs. Lambert would spend the night in the motor home.

“Shall we go then?” Dora demanded.

“Wait a few minutes longer,” Jenny cautioned.

Ten minutes later, the

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