The Campfire

 

Many of the scouts were there for the warmth.  A few sat mesmerized by the flames, but one in particular was watching the sparks drift up and disappear into the night sky.

“Scoutmaster, where do they go?”

I could give him the simple explanation, they simply burn out and fall back to the ground, but I knew this kid was a thinker.  He wouldn’t want a dry, school-book explanation, so I told him the story Squaw One-Feather.  A young Indian girl who always hoped that some day she would land a job as a dealer in the big Indian casino.

She pictured herself surrounded by the “White man’.  She would enjoy seeing their hard-earned dollars drift up and disappear into the night sky, as she flipped over the nine of clubs, mentally envisioning it as an actual club, that she had just knocked them on the head with.

“Scoutmaster, this sounds a lot like that dealer prep story you just told.”

 

“Oh, sorry.  Where was I?”