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diff --git a/old/66956-0.txt b/old/66956-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 26fa45b..0000000 --- a/old/66956-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,5497 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Silver Rags, by Willis Boyd Allen - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Silver Rags - -Author: Willis Boyd Allen - -Release Date: December 16, 2021 [eBook #66956] - -Language: English - -Produced by: MWS, David E. Brown, and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was - produced from images generously made available by The - Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SILVER RAGS *** - - -[Illustration: “READY FOR ANYTHING, IN THE SHAPE OF FUN.”] - - - - - SILVER RAGS - - BY - WILLIS BOYD ALLEN - - Author of “PINE CONES” - - “Like beggared princes of the wood, - In silver rags the birches stood.” - - BOSTON - D. LOTHROP AND COMPANY - FRANKLIN AND HAWLEY STREETS - - - - - COPYRIGHT, 1886, - BY - WILLIS BOYD ALLEN - - - - - TO - THE LITTLE PRINCESS - ISADORE - - - - -CONTENTS. - - - CHAPTER PAGE - - I. Overboard! 7 - - II. Where is the Watch? 21 - - III. The Trial 41 - - IV. Fire! 52 - - V. In the Den 74 - - VI. A Small Hero 92 - - VII. Oak Leaves and Hay 110 - - VIII. Poor Tom! 129 - - IX. A Mountain Camp 137 - - X. The Storm 158 - - XI. The Great Base-Ball Match 172 - - XII. Hunted to Earth 185 - - XIII. Found at Last 196 - - XIV. Quiet Days at The Pines 207 - - XV. Good-bye! 216 - - - - -SILVER RAGS. - - - - -CHAPTER I. - -OVERBOARD. - - -“Help! Help!” - -It was a girl’s voice, clear and sharp with distress. The cry echoed -over Loon Pond, and rang through the woods which surrounded its dimpled -waters. - -In a small, flat-bottomed boat, about fifty yards from the shore, -crouched a young girl of perhaps sixteen years, her face blanched with -terror as she gazed into the depths beneath and uttered again and again -that piercing cry: - -“Help! O quick, quick! Help!” - -Something dark rose slowly to the surface of the pond, and a small -white hand waved frantically in the air a moment, then sank, -struggling, out of sight. Again it came up, this time more quietly, -and again disappeared, while the occupant of the boat screamed louder, -her voice breaking into sobs. The only oar to be seen was floating -quietly on the water, almost within reach. - -“Help!” - -Would no one come? The birches that crowned the hill-top close by -shivered in the sunlight; on the farther shore, the pines stood -motionless in dark, silent ranks. - -Just as the object in the water rose for the third and last time, -scarcely breaking the surface, the bushes hiding the nearest bank -suddenly parted, and a boy dashed out into the pond which was shallow -at this point, with a smooth, sandy beach. - -“Hold on, Kittie, I’m coming!” he shouted lustily, splashing ahead with -all his might, and making the water fly in every direction. - -Presently he sank deeper, and began to swim with such powerful strokes -that half a dozen of them brought him nearly alongside the boat. - -“There, there, Randolph!” screamed Kittie Percival, pointing to the -sinking form. - -Randolph gave one look, doubled over in the water, and with a desperate -effort dived headlong in a line to cut off the drowning girl before -she reached the bottom. After a few seconds which to Kittie seemed -days, he reappeared, holding his helpless burden, and clutched the -stern of the boat. The poor girl’s head lay back on his shoulder, -white, cold, and motionless. - -“Haven’t--you--got--an oar?” puffed Randolph. - -“It fell out when I wasn’t noticing,” sobbed Kittie, “and floated off. -We both leaned over to reach it, and Pet fell into the pond.” - -“All right, I’ll swim for it. Here goes.” And allowing his feet to -rise behind him, with one arm around the girl and the other hand -still grasping the boat, he struck out, frog-fashion, for the shore. -Presently he resumed his upright position, but found the water was -still over his head. A dozen more pushes, and the second experiment -was successful. He announced that he felt bottom under his feet, and -presently the bow of the boat grated on the sand. Kittie now jumped -into the water beside him, regardless of skirts and boots, and assisted -him in raising the unconscious girl, from whose garments and long, -bright hair the water streamed as they lifted her tenderly in their -arms, and carried her to the shore. - -While they were thus engaged, a third actor appeared on the scene, -no other than “Captain Bess” Percival herself, whom, with her sister -Kittie, the readers of _Pine Cones_ will remember. - -“O Kittie, Kittie, what has happened? Did she fall overboard? Is she -alive?” - -“We don’t know,” panted Randolph, answering her last question. “She was -just going down the third time. Where shall we take her?” - -“Up to the Indians’ tent,” said Bess. “It’s only a few steps from here. -I left Tom and Ruel there, while I came to look for you. Here, let me -help.” - -“Bring her lilies,” added Kittie sadly. “Poor little Pet, she had only -gathered two!” - -The mournful procession took up its march through the woods, Bess and -Randolph carrying Pet between them. Kittie followed, with the lilies, -helping when she could. - -Pet Sibley was a girl slightly younger than her companions, who lived -near the Percivals in Boston. When the invitation came from uncle Will -Percival in June for them to spend their summer vacation, or a part -of it, with him and aunt Puss--as the children called his wife--at -The Pines, the girls begged permission, which was heartily granted, -to bring their friend Pet with them. She was a frank, good-hearted -girl, with light, rippling hair, blue eyes, and a sunny disposition -which always looked on the bright side of everything and perhaps was -a bit too forgetful of the earnest in life. If that, and her evident -pleasure in her own pretty face, were faults, they were very forgivable -ones; for she was sweet and true at heart, after all. The fun of the -whole thing was, that she had never lived in the country. She was a -thoroughly city-bred girl; had travelled in Europe when she was a wee -child, had lived two or three years in hotels and “apartments,” and -knew absolutely nothing of field and forest. A more complete contrast -to sober, thoughtful Kittie, and energetic “Captain Bess,” could hardly -be imagined. So it came about that, as often happens with people of -widely varying dispositions, all three loved one another dearly. - -Randolph was in the second class at the Boston Latin School, and had -won three prizes that spring, two for scholarship, and one for drilling. - -On this particular morning Ruel, a guide, trapper, and man-of-all-work -at Mr. Percival’s farm in the heart of the Maine woods, had taken the -young folks off for a tramp to Loon Pond, a pretty sheet of water some -four miles long by one and a half broad. They had enjoyed themselves -immensely--Randolph, Tom, and the three girls--running races along the -forest paths, gathering mosses, ferns and queer white “Indian pipes,” -or listening to Ruel’s quaint sayings as he talked of birds and wild -creatures of the wood, with not a little philosophy thrown in. - -At the distance of about a furlong from the pond, they had come out -upon a little clearing, on the further edge of which was a rude tent -of canvas. In the doorway sat an Indian squaw, with one tiny brown -pappoose in her arms, and another playing on the grass near by. The -father of the babies she said, on inquiry, was off somewhere in the -woods. She had a few baskets for sale, and while Bess and the two boys -stopped to look at these and play with the babies, Kittie and Pet had -run on ahead, and having reached the shore of the pond, had come upon -an old boat, apparently used for a long time past by no one, except -perhaps the Indian when he was not too lazy to fish. Into this boat -they had climbed, screaming and laughing, girl-fashion, and hastily -pushing it off with the one oar which lay in the bottom, had been -trying to collect a bunch of lilies to surprise the rest, when the -accident happened as Kittie described it. - -It took but a few minutes for the mournful little group to reach the -camp, though the distance seemed miles. Pet showed not the slightest -sign of life and her pretty hair almost touched the ground as it hung -over Randolph’s shoulder and swayed to and fro as he walked. - -Ruel’s quick eye was the first to catch sight of them, and to take in -the situation. - -“Bring her here,” he said sharply, springing to his feet and wasting no -time in questions. “Now turn her on her face--so--there, that’ll do. -Poor little gal! I dunno whether we c’n bring her to, but we c’n try, -anyhow.” - -“Shall I run for the doctor, Ruel?” asked Tom, trembling from head to -foot. - -“No doctor nearer’n six mile,” said the guide grimly. “By the time he’d -git here we shouldn’t need him, either ways. Bess, you’n’ Kittie take -her inside the tent--here, let me lift her--git her wet clothes off an’ -roll her in blankets. Grab ’em up anywhere you c’n find ’em. I’ll fix -it with the Injuns. Randolph, you’re wet’s a mink yourself. Take Tom -with you and run fer home. Mis’ Percival will give ye some hot tea and -put ye to bed.” - -“But what shall I do, Ruel?” asked Tom again. - -“You git a couple of them big gray shawls of your aunt’s an’ bring -’em in the double team to the back road, where this path comes -out--remember it?” - -“Yes, Ruel, but--” - -“Git Tim to put the horses in, and drive. He’ll hurry ’nuff, once git -him goin’.” - -Tom and Randolph were off like a flash, and Ruel turned to the squaw, -who had been standing motionless, after having picked up her pappoose -that Ruel had tipped over when he jumped up. - -“Say, Moll, can’t ye take holt and help the gals a little?” - -The squaw came forward crossly enough, mumbling and grumbling to -herself, and, entering the tent, pulled the flap down behind her. Once -inside, she worked harder than any of them, with hands as gentle and -skilful as those of a hospital nurse. - -Fifteen minutes passed. It was a hot day in late June, and Ruel wiped -his brow repeatedly as he paced to and fro before the tent. The Indian, -he knew, would bear no interference, and her knowledge and experience -were invaluable. - -[Illustration: “SHE HAD ONE PAPPOOSE IN HER ARMS.”] - -“Any signs of life?” he asked aloud, when he could bear the suspense no -longer. - -Kittie put a white face out between the hangings, and said “No.” - -Twenty minutes. A thrush from a thicket near by, sang a few notes, and -stopped. The air went up in little waves of heat, from the tree-tops. -It was very still. - -Suddenly there was an exclamation inside the tent; both girls cried out -at once, and were hushed by the guttural tones of the Indian. - -Another long silence, almost unendurable to the big-hearted man -outside, who felt in some way accountable for what had happened. - -He hid his face in his hands, and walked slowly off toward the thicket -where the thrush had sung. - -Again there was a stir within the tent. - -“See!” cried Bess joyfully. “She moved her eyelids! She’s alive! She’s -alive!” - -Soon a new voice was heard behind the canvas--a low, troubled moan, -then a pitiful crying, like that of a beaten child. Poor little Pet, -it was hard, coming back to life again! She writhed in agony for a -few minutes, crying and catching her breath brokenly. But at last -her sweet blue eyes opened. “Mamma!” she said, with trembling lips, -looking about wonderingly at her strange surroundings. - -“O Pet, darling, I’m so glad!” sobbed Kittie, falling on her knees and -kissing the pale face again and again. “You’re all safe and alive! It -was my fault, taking you out--of course you thought it was like the -Public Gardens--oh, dear, and here are your two lilies!” And Kittie -burst out crying afresh at sight of them. - -While she had been talking, Pet had gazed at her and the dark face of -the Indian alternately. Slowly came back the memory of the walk in -the woods, the first view of the shining lake, the laughing scramble -into the boat, the fair lily faces, looking up at her. Then, the -terrible moment when she felt herself falling down, down, with all the -world flying away from her, and only the thick, green, stifling water -pressing against her face. - -She tried to put up her little hands to shut out the picture, but she -was too tightly rolled in the blanket. Then she looked up and--laughed! -At the same moment the Indian threw back the tent-flap, and beckoned to -Ruel, who was hurrying toward her at the sound of the voices. Pet lay -swathed in cloths and blankets of all colors, as old Moll had snatched -them from bed and floor, so that up to her chin she looked like a -gay-colored little mummy. Her head, with its long golden hair, rested -in Bessie’s lap; and a smile was on her lips. - -“Thank God!” exclaimed Ruel, taking off his woodsman’s cap. Then he -dropped into his old-fashioned, easy drawl once more, and commenced -active preparations for the homeward trip. - -“I--think I--can--walk--” whispered Pet faintly, wriggling a little in -her cocoon. - -“Wall, I’ve no doubt you c’d fly, ef we’d let ye,” remarked the guide, -busying himself in wringing out her wet clothes and rolling them into -a bundle; “but I guess we’ll hev the fun of carryin’ of ye, this time. -Tom’ll be back soon--” - -“Here he comes, now!” interrupted Bess, as the boy hurried forward with -his arms full of shawls. - -“Is she--is she--?” he stammered, halting a few paces distant. - -“She’s all right, my boy,” said Ruel kindly. “She’s ben a laughin’, and -is all high fer walkin’ home, ef we’d let her.” - -The boy’s face twitched with emotion, and in spite of himself he could -not prevent two or three tears from rolling over his cheeks. - -“Here’s some cordial,” he managed to say, “that aunt Puss said -would--would be good for her. And uncle Will himself was at home, and -will meet us at the cross-road with his team.” - -Before leaving the tent, Ruel, at Tom’s request, tried to make Moll -accept a small sum for her services. But she would not take a cent. - -“These Injuns are queer people,” said Ruel, leading the way with Pet -in his arms, toward the road. “Sometimes they do act like angels from -heaven, an’ sometimes--they don’t! You never know whar to hev ’em.” - -“Where does this family come from?” asked Tom, trudging beside Ruel and -holding twigs aside from Pet’s face. - -“From up North somewhars. They won’t tell who they are, and I shall be -glad, fer one, when they leave.” - -“I shall be thankful to them as long as I live, for what that woman did -for Pet,” said Kittie warmly. - -“Wall, that’s so; she was a master hand, an’ no mistake. Give me an -Injun fer any kind of a hurt you kin git in the woods.” - -Right glad were they all to find uncle Will and his noble grays, -waiting for them at the road. Just what the kind old man had suffered, -sitting there helplessly for the last five minutes, no one will ever -know--except perhaps his gentle wife Eunice--“aunt Puss”--with whom he -talked the whole matter over, after the children had gone to bed that -night. - -In a moment he had Pet in his trembling arms, and with Ruel at the -reins they were all soon comfortably disposed in the big wagon, and -rattling homeward. - -How they drove up to the door of the farm-house, with Pet waving her -slender white hand feebly, between Bess and Kittie; how aunt Puss, -strong woman as she was, broke down utterly at sight of her, and -afterward hugged her, and cried over her, and “cosseted” her, the -rest of that memorable day, need not be described. Enough to say that -Pet steadily regained her strength, and by night was able to sit with -the rest under the broad elms before the house and listen to uncle -Percival’s stories. - -It was not until bedtime that as the girls were going slowly up-stairs, -arm in arm, she stopped suddenly, and exclaimed “My watch!” - -“Your watch?” echoed the others. “Why, what’s the matter with it?” - -“It’s lost!” - -“Lost?” - -“I wore it to the pond this morning. It was that lovely little watch -that mamma gave me last Christmas, gold and blue enamel, with my name -in it. There was a chain, too, and a tiny key. Oh, dear, what shall I -do! Where can it be? It couldn’t have fallen out, for ’twas hooked into -my button-hole, just as tight!” - -“I can tell you what’s become of your watch, Pet,” exclaimed Randolph, -from the hall below. - -“What?” - -“The Indians!” - - - - -CHAPTER II. - -WHERE IS THE WATCH? - - -“I’m afraid,” said Mr. Percival at breakfast next morning, “that your -watch will not be recovered, Pet. I sent Ruel over to the pond two -hours ago, and he reports that the Indians are gone, bag and baggage. -They generally stay only a few weeks at a time in any one spot.” - -“I thought I saw a queer look in old Moll’s face when we left,” put in -Ruel, joining the conversation with a down-East “hired-man’s” freedom. -“You know she wouldn’t take any money, which, with an Injun, is ’nuff -to make you suspect somethin’s up.” - -Tom was sleeping late, and had not come down to breakfast. At The -Pines, one of the comforts was that you could sleep just as long as you -wanted to in the morning. - -“They’re growing young things,” aunt Puss would say, “and they have to -get up early all winter to get ready for school. It’s a pity if they -can’t lie abed here, so long’s they’re resting, till afternoon, if they -like.” - -The real fact was that ordinarily the days were so filled with good -times that nobody wished to lose an hour in the morning, and so all -hands were up bright and early. - -“How much do you think the watch was worth, Pet?” asked her aunt. -“Bessie, let me give you another mug of milk.” - -Pet sat next to aunt Puss, looking very pale and quiet this morning. It -was observed that she started nervously every time she was addressed; -but this remnant of yesterday’s fright wore off during the day. - -“I don’t know exactly,” she answered, “but I think mamma paid six -hundred francs for it in Geneva last year.” - -“That’s about one hundred and twenty dollars,” said Mr. Percival. “It -would be worth at least a hundred and fifty in America, when it was -new.” - -“Can’t it have dropped out of her pocket?” suggested Kittie. - -“Ruel searched every foot of ground where you went.” - -“Why can’t the thieves be pursued?” exclaimed Randolph, starting to his -feet. “I’ll join a party, for one, to overtake them and recover the -property!” - -“Sit down and finish your coffee, my boy,” said his uncle, smiling. -“The sheriff and two assistants started on their track half an hour -ago. But I fear it won’t be of much use, as they are too cunning to be -easily caught. Of course they will deny all knowledge of the watch, -probably having hidden it when they heard the officers coming.” - -“Will they be arrested?” - -“Yes.” - -The girls began to look frightened. - -“And where will they be brought, sir?” - -“Here. I am a Trial Justice in this county,” said Mr. Percival, rising. - -Just then Tom entered the room, looking as if he had not slept very -soundly, after all. - -“Uncle,” he said in a low voice, glancing at the rest as they left -their places at the table with a clatter of chairs on the kitchen -floor, “uncle, can I see you alone for a moment?” - -Mr. Percival patted him on the shoulder. “Better eat your breakfast, my -boy, the first thing you do. I have some matters to look after in the -barn and you can find me there, if you want to. You must forget about -the accident yesterday,” he added kindly, seeing the boy’s pale face. -“Pet’s all right now, and we sha’n’t let her fall in again, you may be -sure.” - -“I know, sir, but--” - -Here aunt Puss bustled up with a plate of hot flapjacks, and uncle Will -stepped aside with a laugh. - -“Eat ’em while they’re hot, Tom,” said Ruel gravely, pausing a minute -at the door, “or Mis’ Percival will have her feelin’s awfully hurt.” - -So Tom was fain to put off his interview with his uncle, till some -better season. Ah, Tom, if you had but spoken a moment earlier, or -insisted one whit more strongly! But Mr. Percival went off where his -duties called him, and Tom found no chance to see him alone that day, -nor the next. Whatever the subject was, it did not seem to disturb him -so much after a good breakfast; and he promised himself he would attend -to it a little later. - -The forenoon was spent quietly in the barn, in the capacious bays of -which the mounds of fragrant hay had just been stored, still warm -with the midsummer sunshine, and furnishing an occasional sleepy -grasshopper, by no means startled out of his dignity by his sudden -change of residence. The west wind blew softly in at the open doors, -through which one could look, as one lay on the mow, into the sunny -world outside, and catch a few bars of an oriole’s call, or of robin’s -cheery note. The cattle were all out to pasture. Over the floor -walked the hens, in serene meditation, placidly clucking, or uttering -a remonstrative and warning “Wha-a-a-t!” as a swallow careened too -near them in the bars of dusty sunlight. The only other noise was the -occasional bird-twitter from one of the dozen or more nests upon the -rafters overhead, and the tapping of bills on the floor as the sober -fowls now and then gleaned a stray insect or bit of seed-food. - -“I don’t see,” said Tom lazily, gazing up toward the ridge-pole, where -a swallow was busily engaged in feeding her clamorous family, “I don’t -see what people ever want to live in the city for!” - -“If people could spend their time on hay-mows, half asleep, -or--Ow!--tickling their sisters’ ears with straws!--” - -“Well, that’s all girls do, anyway. A feller might just’s well stretch -out here as curl up on a sofa and _crochet_ all day!” Tom delivered -this remark with emphasis, expressive of his manly disgust at all -fancy-work in general, and “crochet” under which head he classed every -home industry connected with worsted--in particular. - -“I should like to see a ‘feller’ do Kensington,” remarked Bess calmly. -“Seems to me I remember one who wanted to knit on a spool, one time -when he was sick, and--” - -“O let up, Bess; that don’t count?” - -“--And after he had knit two inches and dropped thirteen stitches, gave -it up because ‘it made his head tired!’” concluded Bess mercilessly. - -When the laugh had subsided, and Bess had emerged from the armful of -dried clover and red-top under which Tom had extinguished her, Kittie -spoke up, more soberly. - -“I guess I know what Tom means, and he isn’t so far out of the way -either. We do waste lots of time now, really, don’t we, girls?” - -“So do boys,” said Bess, stoutly. - -“I know; but boys have something hard and useful to do, ’most every -day,” persisted Kittie, whom the five Justices of the Supreme Bench -couldn’t have diverted from her point. “Boys go to school until they’re -ready to work or enter college. Then they never stop working, till they -die.” - -“Yes,” said Tom solemnly, “that’s what uses me up so; it’s just hard -work.” - -“You look like it!” exclaimed Randolph, burying Tom in his turn. “I’ll -tell you what it is, girls,” he added, as he gave Tom a final shot, -“there’s a good deal in what Kittie says. But work is good for us, -anyway; and besides, when we do get in a little play, betweenwhiles, we -have a glorious time, I can tell you!” - -“But I know lots of boys, and young men too,” put in Pet eagerly, “who -just go to parties and don’t work hard at all.” - -“O, I don’t count those things _boys_,” said Kittie. “They’re just -dolls; and if there’s anything I always despised, it’s boy-dolls.” - -“What do you think girls could do, Kittie?” asked Bess, “when they -don’t have lessons to get, I mean.” - -“I think they could make useful things to give poor people,” answered -Kittie, her gray eyes sparkling with earnestness. “If we put the -same amount of time into making up nice, plain clothes for poor -people--special poor people, I mean, that we could find out about, -ourselves--that we do into ‘crochet,’ as Tom says--what a lot of things -we could make and give away in one winter!” - -“I never could bear to sew,” sighed Pet, surveying her pretty, plump -fingers. “It seems just old ladies’ work, pulling over rag-bags and -‘piecing’ together. It’s dreadful, trying to save.” - -“It depends on what you do with the rags,” said Randolph. “My -grandmother had one of those bags that she was always using out of, and -yet ’twas always full of rags, just crammed, so you couldn’t pull the -puckers of the bag together at the top.” - -“What ever did she make with them?” - -“Mats and carpets, mostly. That is, she didn’t make ’em herself, but -used to hire poor people to make ’em, after she’d showed them how. -She’d always arrange it so’s to help two at once. ‘It’s better,’ she -used to say, ‘to feed two birds with one crumb, than kill them with a -stone.’” - -“Why, how did she do it?” queried practical Bess, much interested. - -“She’d find out through the city missionaries generally, some woman -that was awfully poor, and she’d send for her and say, ‘I know a family -down in such a street that are very poor; they earn just enough to live -on--not enough to _walk_ on, for they haven’t any carpets on their bare -floors, this cold weather.’” - -“Well?” - -“Well, then she’d show the poor woman, the first one, how to ‘pull’ a -rag mat, and would hire her to make one, giving her enough rags from -that bag. When ’twas done, she’d praise it up and say how pretty ’twas, -’specially this row, or that flower, and so on; and then pay her for -the work.” - -“And did your grandmother give the first poor woman’s carpet to the -second poor woman?” asked Pet, knitting her brows over the algebraic -difficulty of the problem. - -“Not herself. She sent it by the first poor woman so’s to let her have -the pleasure of giving.” - -“How lovely!” exclaimed Pet. “I’m going to have a rag-bag of my very -own this winter--with nothing but plush in it!” - -“No,” said Bess, “that won’t do; plush catches dust.” - -“Who’s up in my hay-mow!” The voice was deep and strong, but entirely -pleasant, and so nearly underneath them that the girls jumped. - -“O uncle Will,” they all cried at once, “do come up here--it’s just -perfect--and tell us a story!” - -“If it’s ‘just perfect’ already, I don’t think I’d better come!” -Nevertheless the good-natured old man mounted the steep ladder, and was -at once allotted the breeziest and softest seat. - -“Well, well,” he said, baring his head to the gentle west wind, “this -is comfortable. How many times I’ve lain on the hay here, when I was a -boy, and dreamed what I would do--sometime!” - -“You never dreamed yourself such a dear uncle as you are,” said Bess -softly, stroking his hair. - -“Now you are trying to spoil me! What story shall I tell, I wonder? -It must be short, because I may be called away at any moment. Let me -see--how would one of my younger day scrapes do?” - -[Illustration: PET.] - -“Splendid! splendid!” - -“Well, this wasn’t much of an adventure for youngsters like you who -travel about over the country, a hundred miles a day. But to us, -Fred and me, it seemed a good deal at the time. Fred always loved -mountain-climbing. He went to Europe while still a young man, and only -last week he sent me a paper containing an account of his ascent of one -of the loftiest among the Bernese Alps.” - -“Is he the stout gentleman that we saw here last summer, uncle, and who -told us so much about Switzerland?” - -“The same one, Kittie. ‘Frederic Cruden, Esq., F. R. S.,’ he is now. -But in those days he was just a slim, fun-loving boy, and the only -‘Fellow’ he was, was a very good fellow indeed. Well, while we were -both in our teens, our two families made up a party and visited the -White Mountains.” - -“There was no railroad through the Notch then?” - -“I should say not! If one wished to see the grandest localities of the -White Mountains, he must either foot it or ride over the rough roads -in the big, jolting stage-coach which often carried more outside than -in, and occasionally tipped its passengers out upon the moss-banks -beside the road. Bears, too, were more abundant than now, and that’s -saying considerable; for in many of the little New Hampshire towns of -Coos County, farmers are to-day prevented from keeping sheep by the -inroads of Bruin, who loves a dainty shoulder of mutton for supper -only too well. I saw by the papers recently that the selectmen of one -township during last year paid bounties on eleven bears and two wolves!” - -Here Tom uttered a series of ferocious growls, but was covered with hay -and sat upon by his cousin until he promised to behave himself. - -“We were stopping at the fine, new Profile House,” continued Mr. -Percival, “Fred and I, with our fathers and mothers, as I said. -Being of nearly the same age, we were always planning some sort of -excursion together. One day we had begged to be allowed to ascend Mount -Lafayette, a peak about twenty miles southwest of Mount Washington, -and only second to the latter in point of interest. A guide-book which -we had procured told of a fine house on the summit, and we would just -stop there long enough to cool off after our walk, before coming down -by the ‘well-worn bridle-path.’ We were sturdy little fellows, and -though we had never yet accomplished such a feat as the ascent of a -five thousand-foot mountain, felt quite equal to the task.” - -“How old did you say you were, uncle?” asked Randolph. - -“About fourteen, but large of our age. We started off at about two -o’clock in the afternoon, with many injunctions to be back by tea-time, -and on no account to linger by the way. - -“It was in the highest of spirits that we strode away on the level -road, up the valley, toward the peak that lay so softly brown against -the blue sky just beyond. Before long we struck into the bridle-path, -which was exceedingly muddy near the base, and became constantly more -steep and slippery as we ascended. Boy-like, we were quite heedless -of the lapse of time, and often stopped to gather birch bark, climb -after squirrels’ nests, or take a bite of the sandwiches we had stuffed -into our pockets at the last moment. The forest, I remember, was -singularly silent, no breeze among the stiff tops of the hemlocks, no -merry singing of birds; only now and then the muffled gurgle of a -brook among the mossy stones beside the path, or the single, plaintive -whistle of a thrush, far away on the mountain-side. - -“When we had stopped for breath, about half-way up, a descending -horseback-party passed us. We asked them about the house on the summit, -but they only laughed, and said it had good walls and a high roof. -This disturbed us a little, but we soon forgot our apprehensions, -and pressed forward. Half a mile beyond this point, we came to that -strange, nameless pool of water, seeming half cloud, half dream, -hanging like a dew-drop on the slope of the mountain. As we stamped our -feet on the moss which composed its banks, the whole surface of the -ground, for rods away, trembled as if with an earthquake, and made us -feel as if we were walking in a nightmare. It occurred to us that it -would add to the glory of our exploit if we could catch some dream-fish -out of this strange, unreal pond among the clouds; so we spent an hour -or more in useless angling in its clear depths. - -“Then Fred looked up at the sky, and uttered an exclamation. I followed -his glance--and dropped my pole. The sun was almost resting on the -edge of the mountains in the west, and it was plain that it would be -dark in less than an hour.” - -“And all those bears!” murmured Pet, gazing at the narrator with round -eyes. “O, I should think you _would_ have been scared!” - -Mr. Percival smiled. “If I had been as old as I am now, I should have -said ‘Fred, we’re caught this time by our own thoughtlessness. We can -go down in half or quarter of the time it took us to climb up; and -once on the main road in the valley, we shall be all right.’ But a boy -of fourteen doesn’t reason in that way. We were tired and hungry. We -thought of the welcome we should receive from the people on the summit, -and of the good things they would doubtless have for supper.” - -“‘Besides,’ said Fred, ‘we must be nearly up now. The trees don’t last -much longer--they aren’t higher than our heads here. It’ll be all rocks -pretty soon, and then we shall be right at the top, just like Mt. -Washington.’ - -“So we started up again, with, we afterward confessed to each other, -uncomfortable misgivings in our breasts. It was really my fault, -though, for I was the older of the two, and ought to have known better. - -“Well, in ten minutes the sun was out of sight behind the hills, and -I tell you, boys, the shadows felt cold. It was like walking into a -running brook in the middle of a hot day, and we shivered and buttoned -our jackets tight around our throats as we clambered along over the -rocks, panting in the thin air, and stopping for breath every few rods. - -“It was tough work, especially as the wind began to rise and dodge at -us from behind great bowlders, cutting like knives with its chilling -breath. Darker and darker it grew, so that we could hardly distinguish -the path, that was now a mere series of scratches over the rocks. In -vain we strained our eyes for a friendly twinkle of light from the -windows ahead. All was still, silent, dark. I confess, Pet, I thought -of the bears, and halted half a dozen times, with beating heart, at -sight of some dark rock that crouched behind the path. We were just -thinking, Fred and I, of curling up for shelter under some overhanging -ledge, and so spending the night, when a queer object caught our eyes. -It was like a tree, stripped of every branch, and standing grimly -alone there in the rocky desert, like a solitary Arab. A few steps -more showed us what it was, and, at the same time, the tremendous -mistake we had made, from the very outset of our plan, flashed upon -us. It was clear that we were at last standing upon the very tip-top -of Mount Lafayette, lifted in the air nearly a mile straight up, above -the level of our home by the sea-shore. But alas, where was the inn, -with its longed-for fires, its well-spread table, its comfortable beds -and friendly hosts? The little weather-beaten flag-pole (for such was -our naked tree), stood stiffly erect beside a blackened and crumbling -stone wall, which enclosed a small space partially floored with charred -boards, partially choked with rubbish that had fallen in long ago. - -“‘Seems to me I remember something about its being burned up once,’ -said Fred, faintly. ‘I s’posed of course they built it again!’ - -“Yes, there were the openings, where windows and door had been set, and -which now looked out into the dreary night like eyeless sockets. - -“There was no time to be lost. The air was growing colder every moment, -and the bitter wind was driving up a huge bank of clouds from the east. -Although it was early in September, we afterward learned that ice -formed in many places through the mountains that night. Such cases are -by no means rare, and, indeed, in some of the ravines and gorges of the -White Mountain group, snow and ice may be found the whole year round. - -“Entering the roofless walls, and placing our sandwiches in a small -niche which probably had once served for a cupboard, we set vigorously -to work, ripping up the pieces of boards that still remained, and -piling them in one corner where the wall was highest. In five minutes -we had a roaring fire, by the light and warmth of which we constructed -a rude shelter in the form of a ‘lean-to,’ against the rocks, and crept -under it to sup off our scanty provisions, and reflect.” - -“Were you frightened, sir?” asked Tom slyly. - -“Well, I suppose there was no great danger, Tom, but to boys who had -spent their lives in comfortable homes, surrounded by care, and gentle, -watchful attentions from those they loved most, it was a thrilling -experience. There, alone on the mountain-top, high in air, far above -any trace of vegetation save a few frightened Alpine flowers that -huddle together under the rocks for a few weeks in summer, the darkness -about them like a shroud, the wind rising and moaning over the bare -ledges, and a storm creeping up through the valleys to assault their -fortress at any moment. At last it came. Like a tornado, an icy blast -rushed upon us with a howl and a roar, blowing our fire out in a moment -while the red flames leaped back to the glowing brands only to be -hurled off into the darkness again and again. - -“And the rain! In less time than it takes to tell it, we were drenched -to the skin, and pinched and pulled by the fingers of the storm that -were thrust in through a hundred little crannies in our almost useless -shelter. The thunder crashed, the rain rattled on the loose boards, the -fire hissed feebly and turned black in the face, and the night closed -in about us colder and drearier than ever. All we could do was to lie -still, and shiver, and hope for morning. - -“A little after midnight the tempest abated, and, tired, healthy boys -as we were, we dropped into a troubled sleep. At the first glimmer of -daylight, however, we stretched ourselves with groans and moans, and -crawled stiffly out into the open air. It was bitter, bitter cold; so -that I remember it was a long while before I could manage my fingers -well enough to light a match. - -“What did we do for kindling? Why, I forgot to say that when it first -began to rain, I took out all the birch bark I had gathered on my way -up, and tucked it under my shoulder; so that for the most part the -inner strips were pretty dry, and sputtered cheerily when I touched -them off. I believe nothing ever did me so much good as that fire. -Under its influence, we were so much cheered that we actually walked -out to see the sunrise, which was glorious. - -“It didn’t take us long to descend that mountain, I can tell you; and -we reached the Profile House in season to tell the whole story to -the family (who, in truth, had slept little more than we) over the -breakfast-table.” - -Just as the story was completed, a rattle of wheels was heard in -the driveway leading to the house. Presently a wagon drove up, -containing--besides a short, thick-set man whom Randolph recognized -as the sheriff, and the two young fellows who served as deputies--an -Indian half covered in a blanket, a squaw, and two dignified brown -pappooses. It was easy to recognize them as the Loon Pond campers. - - - - -CHAPTER III. - -THE TRIAL. - - -It was decided to give the Indians their dinner before examining them. -Mr. Percival knew they would be more likely to tell the truth if -well-treated; and all he wanted was to obtain the watch, not to punish -the thieves. Accordingly they were conducted to the kitchen, and there, -under charge of the sheriffs, they were provided with a bountiful meal -by aunt Puss. - -The captors meanwhile explained that they had found their prisoners -encamped about ten miles down the road. They had been very angry at -first, but the sheriff, who was really a good-natured farmer living -about three miles from Mr. Percival’s place, had managed to pacify -Sebattis, the father of the family, and he kept Moll in good order. -They all, added Mr. Blake, the sheriff, had denied any knowledge of the -watch, from first to last. - -After dinner, to which the Indians did ample justice, the whole party -were conducted to the sitting-room. Mr. Percival took his seat beside a -table, at one end of the room, and asked Sebattis to hold up his right -hand. He then administered the oath to the prisoner with a dignity and -solemnity which impressed the young people, and which were specially -admired by Randolph, who had several times seen the ceremony flippantly -performed in the city courts. - -The magistrate now proceeded with the examination. - -“What is your name, sir?” he asked gravely but pleasantly. - -The Indian, gratified by the title given him, answered with promptness: -“Sebattis Megone.” - -“That is your wife with you?” - -“Yis. She Moll Megone.” - -“Where have you been camping for the last month?” - -Sebattis hesitated a moment, then glanced at his wife and replied, -“Tent down by Loon Pond. No good. Bad place. Me leave him.” - -“What was the matter with the place?” - -“No fish. Water bad drink.” - -“Then why didn’t you go away before?” - -Again the Indian paused, scowled slightly, and threw his blanket across -his shoulder with a gesture not without dignity. - -“Me go when like; stay when like.” - -Here Moll gave a sharp look at her husband, which Randolph was just in -time to catch. Seeing that her glance was noticed, she made the best of -it and spoke up boldly. - -“We go sell baskit,” she said. “Plenty folk in big town to buy ’em--” - -“Wait a moment,” interrupted Mr. Percival. “You shall tell your story -in a moment. Eunice, you give this woman a comfortable place in the -kitchen with her babies, will you?” - -Both Indians seemed inclined to resent this move, but the magistrate -was evidently not a man to be trifled with, and Moll sullenly withdrew, -bearing a pappoose on each arm. - -“Now,” continued Mr. Percival once more, “did you, Sebattis, see any of -these young people yesterday?” - -“No. Me hunt on furder side Loon Pond.” - -“Did your wife tell you about it when you came back to the tent at -night?” - -“When me come wigwam, Moll say girl-with-gold-hair fall in pond, come -near drown. Ver’ hard make alive ag’in. That all.” - -“Didn’t she show you something she had found?” - -“Yis.” And the Indian gravely held up his hand, making a circle with -his thumb and forefinger. - -“What was it?” - -The children leaned forward expectantly, Pet’s eyes sparkling. - -The Indian never showed by the movement of a muscle nor a glance of the -eye the irony with which he had purposely led his questioners to this -point. - -“Half dollar,” he replied, in his slow, guttural tones. “Moll find it -where white hunter, _that_ man,” indicating Ruel, who was standing -near, “drop it in bushes when he go pray.” - -All turned and looked at Ruel, who flushed to his hair, but stood his -ground. - -“How do you know he prayed?” asked Mr. Percival gently. - -“Wife find where he two knees go down on moss. Half dollar drop out. -Wife say no keep. I say yis, keep him for work an’ wet blankit.” - -Mr. Percival smiled in spite of himself at the man’s confession; -nevertheless he looked troubled. - -“Do you mean to tell me, Sebattis,” he said sternly, after a moment, -“that you have never seen this girl’s watch? If half a dollar fell out -of a pocket, so could a watch. Come, my man, own up and give it back, -and I’ll let you go this time.” - -The Indian’s brow darkened, and he drew himself up to his full height. - -“Sebattis no see watch. Know nothing ’bout him.” - -He delivered himself of this remark with more emphasis than he had yet -used; then sat down, pulling his blanket around him; and not another -word would he speak, save a few guttural sentences in his own language -to his wife, who was now called in once more. The scowl remained on -his forehead, and Kittie whispered to Bess that she saw him eying the -windows and their fastenings. - -Moll was now sharply questioned, but with no better result. She had -seen the gold watch-chain, she admitted, when the girls first reached -the tent. It was dangling from _her_ pocket--pointing to Kittie! - -“O,” cried Kittie, “but that’s impossible, for I haven’t any watch nor -chain myself, and I never even touched Pet’s but once, and that was the -day we all got here and she was showing it to aunt.” - -Mr. Percival looked grave; the sheriff shut one eye knowingly; the -girls edged off, half-scared, after Kittie had spoken. Moll alone -appeared to retain her perfect self-possession. - -“It was in that one’s pocket,” she persisted, using much better English -than her husband. “I was ’fraid pappooses grab it, and break. Maybe she -take it,” she added, with a malicious look at poor Kittie. - -“Silence!” said uncle Will sternly. “Answer my questions, and nothing -more. When did you say you saw this chain?” - -“When gal first come.” - -“Not after they returned from the pond?” - -“No. Forget all about it. Too much drown,” said the squaw grimly. -“Didn’t see him no more.” And no other answer nor admission could be -obtained. - -Ruel, Randolph and the girls were now asked a few questions each, to -bring out their story in the hearing of the Indians. The latter denied -nothing, and admitted nothing. - -Mr. Percival looked perplexed. To him the guilt of the Indians seemed -plain, especially after the palpable falsehood of the squaw. Nothing -could have been easier, in the excitement of the restoration of the -half-drowned girl, than to draw the watch from her cast-off clothes, -and conceal it. The ground over which the party had passed had been -scrutinized inch by inch, as well as the smooth, hard bottom of the -lake where the accident had occurred; and by eyes that were as sharp -as those of the Indians themselves. When Ruel said quietly after his -morning search, that the watch was not in the woods nor the lake, that -possibility was dropped, as settled beyond doubt. There had not been -much ground to examine, for Pet distinctly remembered, and in this she -was corroborated by Randolph, that she had taken out her watch and -named the time of day, just before they first reached the wigwam. - -Still, the magistrate could not commit the prisoners without some -shadow of real proof; and he was obliged to admit to himself that there -was none whatever. He called Mr. Blake aside, and held a consultation -with him in low tones. The attention of the others was for the moment -taken up with the pappooses, who were indulging themselves in various -grunts and gasps and queer noises, accompanied by energetic struggles -as if they were attacked by some internal foe, such as occasionally -invades babyland. Moll sat holding them, sullen and silent. - -“It must be a pin--” began aunt Puss, with a sympathetic movement -toward the baby whose uncouth wails were the wildest; but she did -not finish her sentence. A crashing of glass close at hand startled -everybody in the room; and one glance at the shattered window-sash told -the whole story. Sebattis, watching his opportunity, and seeing both -doors of the room blocked by his persecutors, had sprung through the -lower half of the window, carrying glass and all before him, and in an -instant was out of sight in the forest. - -The babies, strange to say, had become perfectly quiet and no one -having seen the quick gleam of triumph in the squaw’s eyes, she was -not suspected of having been the cause of their previous outcries, by -various sly pinches under the blanket. - -The officers of the law at once sprang toward the door, but Mr. -Percival checked them. “It’s of no use,” he said. “The only real -misdemeanor that can be proved against the fellow is assault and -battery on my window,” he added, gazing ruefully at the ragged edges -of the glass. “It rather relieves us, Blake, of the necessity of a -decision in the watch matter, for you might scour the woods for a month -without finding an Indian who wanted to keep out of the way.” - -“I only hope,” said the sheriff, “that he won’t lay it up against us, -round here. These chaps are ugly enough to burn a barn, if no worse, -for sheer revenge.” - -Here Ruel whispered to Mr. Percival, who proceeded to act at once upon -what was evidently the guide’s suggestion. - -“Moll,” he said to the squaw, who had watched the faces of the men with -hardly concealed eagerness, “I’m sorry your husband ran away, for I -should have let him go, anyway. Now these men will carry you back to -your tent. If you ever find that watch,” he added meaningly, looking -her full in the eye, “bring it to me and you shall have twenty dollars -reward.” - -Without a word the woman rose, and passing out, seated herself once -more in the wagon, which drove off rapidly down the road in the -direction of her wigwam. The trial was over, and the prisoners -discharged; but the vexed question still remained, Where was the watch? - -In the afternoon, while Ruel and Tim repaired the broken window--for -panes of glass, putty and carpenter’s tools were always ready at hand -in the workshop--the boys walked over to the pond and examined the -path and its vicinity carefully for themselves, and even took turns -diving to the bottom of the pond, in a vain search for the missing -article. Wherever it might be, it clearly had been carried off by some -human agency. Pet’s father and mother were at this time stopping in -a large hotel near Boston, and had written for her to come up for a -day or two, as there were friends visiting them from the West whom -they were particularly anxious for her to meet and help entertain. She -could return to Mr. Percival’s, her mother wrote, by the middle of the -following week. - -With a sad heart, both at leaving her friends, and because she felt -she was abandoning all hope of her watch, she started off early on -the morning after the trial, with Ruel as driver, for the Pineville -Station where she was to take the cars on a Branch of the Maine Central -Railroad, for Boston. - -All the young folks except Tom, who unexpectedly declined to go, on the -plea of a headache, accompanied Pet to the station, telling her about -their “Camp Christmas” of the preceding winter, and waving hats and -handkerchiefs until the train rounded a curve and crept out of sight. - -Meanwhile Tom languidly rose from his bed, as soon as he heard the -laughing wagon-load drive away; went down to breakfast with a sulky -face and red eyes, as if he had been up late the night before, or -had been crying--and hardly waiting to reply to his uncle’s cheery -good-morning, walked off with his hands in his pockets, in the -direction of Loon Pond. After an absence of a couple of hours, he -returned, looking tired out, and passed the rest of the forenoon in the -barn, lying on the hay-mow with a book. But if you had peeped over his -shoulder, you would have seen that the pages were upside-down, and that -now and then a tear rolled slowly over the boy’s cheeks, while his lips -twitched nervously. Tom was evidently, on this bright June day, one of -the unhappiest of boys. What could have happened? - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - -FIRE! - - -“I wonder if they _are_ so different!” Pet Sibley found the summer -hotel very pleasant. She was fond of gayety and pretty dresses and -music; and of these she found a plenty at the “Everglades.” The hotel -was within a half-hour’s ride of Boston, but was situated in the very -heart of a beautiful, shadowy grove of pines, whose breath made the -air sweet all through the long hours of the languid summer day. If the -trees were more civilized and conventional in their appearance than the -wide-branching, free-tossing pines in Uncle Percival’s upland pastures -and hundred-acre wood-lot, Pet was not yet enough waked-up to know the -difference; in fact, found it rather nice to be able to stroll about -the well-kept grounds of the “Everglades,” without fear of tearing her -skirts in the underbrush, or losing her way if she left the path. There -was no underbrush here, and it was pretty much all path. - -Within a few minutes’ walk, and bordering the grove on the further -side, a river wound pleasantly and peacefully through a bright strip -of meadow-land. On this river the Sibleys kept a boat, with carpet and -cushioned seats--not much like the rough little affair which had tipped -Pet over into Loon Pond. - -Life at the Everglades flowed softly and calmly, like the river; and on -the surface floated, like its radiant lilies, the fair ladies, young -and old, who fanned and smiled and danced away the summer, without a -thought of the suffering thousands in the hot city, fifteen miles away. - -Without a thought? Yes, there were some who thought, and who brought -poor and ailing children out to a Country Home near by; but these were -few. - -Pet Sibley, I am glad to say, was one of those who remembered the -narrow streets of the North End, and the swarms of ragged men, women -and children who panted, dog-like, on curbstone and doorstep, along the -foul streets as the sun went down each night. - -The people from the West, Pet learned, were relatives, and though -their views of life hardly agreed with her own--if, indeed, she had any -views--she found the new-comers very pleasant. On the third day after -her return, her cousin Mark, whose home was in Chicago, and with whom -already, in the free intimacy of hotel life, she felt well acquainted, -had taken her out on the river. - -A half-hour had slipped by, during which her cousin had instructed her -how to sit safely in a boat, and even how to row a little. Just as they -turned a bend in the stream and floated into a cove where birches and -wild grape-vines afforded a grateful bit of shade, the girl stopped -rowing, and looking up at Mark, who sat indolently in the stern of the -boat, made the remark with which this chapter began: - -“I wonder if they are so--_different_!” - -Pet’s pretty young forehead had a puzzled little wrinkle as she leaned -forward, with the oar-blades rippling through the water, and the muslin -sleeves falling back from her brown wrists. - -“_Are_ they so different, cousin Mark?” - -Her companion gave an impatient twitch to his straw hat. - -[Illustration: THE PIAZZA AT “THE EVERGLADES.”] - -“Why, of course! They are not like you, Pet. They are ignorant and -poor and--and not clean, you know. They were born to it and they like -it.” - -“But it doesn’t seem right. I heard a lady on the piazza this morning -say something about ‘those creatures’ in such a way that I thought she -was speaking of rats or snakes. It turned out she meant the convicts -who attacked their keepers at the prison last July.” - -Pet spoke warmly, as she was apt to do when she once took up a subject. -If she was yet a gay young creature, very fond of “good times,” and -ready for any sort of fun, she yet was one of those girls with whom -shallow young men at summer hotels are rather shy of entering into -conversation. She was only fifteen, and one by one the terribly real -problems of the day were marshalling themselves before her. She would -not pass them by with a gay laugh, after the prevailing mode of her -merry companions. She felt somehow that it belonged to her to help the -world and make it better, as well as to the missionaries and other good -people upon whose shoulders we so willingly pack responsibilities. - -For this childish enthusiasm she was smiled on indulgently by her -friends. Kitty and Bess knew the best there was in her, and loved her -for it. - -Pet gave two or three quick strokes, and paused. - -“Isn’t there any way to help these poor people, Mark? It must be the -way these people live and are brought up that makes them so rough and -bad. Isn’t there any way to help them?” - -“None that amounts to much. Besides, that isn’t our business. There are -men enough who do nothing else--are paid for it--missionaries and the -like. And you can’t make everybody rich, you know. The Bible itself -says, ‘Ye have the poor always with you.’” - -“Perhaps that doesn’t mean that we ought to have them,” replied Pet, -slowly. - -“Well, they’re here, and we may as well make the best of it.” - -“But what is the best? That’s just it.” - -“What is the use of your thinking about it? You can’t do anything, -and you don’t even know the kind of people we’re talking of; the -North-Enders, for instance. You have never seen and touched them; and -if you should meet them face to face, I don’t believe you would care -for any further acquaintance. They’re simply disgusting.” - -Pet said no more on the subject, and just as the sun dropped into the -arms of the waiting pines on the hill they reached the little wharf on -the river-bank, moored the boat, and walked up to the hotel. She went -straight to her mother’s room, and, after her fashion, as straight to -the point. - -“Mother, I want to go into the city right away, and spend the night -with aunt Augusta.” - -“But, my child, it’s tea-time already, and there’s a hop this evening. -You had better wait till morning.” - -“Mother, I so much want to go now. The train leaves in fifteen minutes. -I don’t care for the hop, anyway; it’s too warm to dance. Please, -mother?” - -Of course impulsive little Pet had her way, and was soon whirling along -toward the city, with a strong resolve in her mind. - -“I’ll walk up to auntie’s from the depot, and to-morrow I’ll go down to -North Street with uncle.” - -The train stopped at all the small stations, and was delayed by various -causes, so that it was quite dark when she started on her walk. She -was glad, after all, to find the streets well-lighted, and filled with -respectable-looking people. - -On reaching Washington Street, however, everything appeared weird -and unnatural. The sidewalks along which one could hardly pass in -the daytime, for the crowd, were nearly deserted. All the spots that -were bright by sunlight, were now dark, and all the ordinarily dark -places light. It was exactly like the negative of a photograph, and -gave Pet a sense of looking on the wrong side of everything. Once she -saw something move behind the broad plate-glass windows of a railroad -agency, on a corner that in the daytime was a business centre. She -approached, and was startled to find the object a huge rat, trotting -silently about, over the polished engravings and placards, behind the -glass, a very spirit of solitude and evil. It was all like a nightmare, -and she began most heartily to wish herself back at the Everglades, -dancing the Lancers with cousin Mark. - -Coincidences happen; not in stories simply, but in real life. The -vessel is wrecked in sight of port; the day the owner dies; the man we -meet on the steamboat at the headwaters of the Saguenay River, has, -unknown to us until then, ate, drank, and slept in the next house all -winter, within ten feet of us; the dear friend we have known so long, -is at last discovered to be intimate with that other dear friend we -love so well, and finally it comes out that all three of us were born -in the same little town in New Hampshire. - -Now the coincidence that happened on this particular evening was as -follows: - -While Pet was making her way along Washington Street in the dark, -another girl about thirteen years of age, named Bridget Flanagan, was -standing on the third gallery of the Crystal Palace, in the same good -city of Boston, looking down into Lincoln Street. Like Pet, she was -wondering whether anything could be done to aid the poor. Not that -any such words passed through her mind. Dear me, no! I doubt if she -would have even known what “aid” meant, that word being in her mind -associated solely with lemons of a shrivelled and speckled character. -If she had spoken her thoughts, which she sometimes had a queer way of -doing, she might have said something like this: “Don’t I wish I could -git out o’ this! An’ the rich folks wid all the money they wants, an’ -nothin’ to do but buy fans an’ use ’em up. My! ain’t it hot?” - -It _was_ hot. There was a man playing on a bag-pipe in the street -below, and not only had a crowd of children and idlers surrounded him -as he stood before a brilliantly lighted (and licensed) liquor store, -but the long rickety galleries which run in front of each floor in the -“Palace” were full of half-dressed, red-faced women and children, who -leaned on the dirty railing and listened to the music, just as the -guests at the “Everglades” at the same time were listening to their -orchestra of a dozen pieces. - -In the gallery overhead Bridget heard two women dancing and shouting -noisily. Somewhere in the building a child was crying loudly in a -different key from the bag-pipe. Bridget didn’t notice these things -particularly; she was used to them. Only there came over the young -human girl-heart which was beating beneath the rags and in the midst of -this wretchedness a sick longing for--what? Bridget did not know. - -“It’s the hot weather it is,” she said to herself; “it’s usin’ me up -intirely. I’ll jist go an’ have a bit av a walk.” - -Accordingly she issued forth, shortly afterward, with a broken-nosed -pitcher in her hand, and made her way to one of the shops across the -street. There were plenty to choose from--the city had looked out for -that. Their licenses were as strong as the Municipal Seal, stamped on -one corner, with its picture of church steeples and clouds, and heavens -above and pure, broad sea beneath, could make them. Nearly every second -house in the street beckoned with flaring lights to its pile of whiskey -barrels and shining counters; the dark intervals along the street, -between these shops, were the ruined homes of those who went in at the -lighted doors. - -Opposite, the Crystal Palace, then at its filthiest and worst, reared -its ugly shape like a fat weed, watered day and night by whiskey and -gin. - -[Within the last twelvemonth this building has been torn down, and -Lincoln Street largely reclaimed from the squalor and wretchedness -which marked it on the evening of which I am speaking; but within a -stone’s throw of the same spot, the same sights may be witnessed any -night in the week. The district is popularly known as the “South Cove.”] - -As Bridget pattered along the sidewalk with her bare feet, a -coarse-looking woman in front of her threw something down on the -bricks and laughed hoarsely. The “something” resolved itself into a -kitten, which picked itself up and walked painfully over to a burly, -broad-shouldered man who was sitting on the steps of a basement alley, -so that his arms rested on the sidewalk. The kitten curled up beside -him. The man put out his big, red hand and stroked it once, then went -on with his smoking. The kitten was purring and licking its aching -feet as Bridget, who had paused a moment from some dull feeling of -compassion, went on her way. - -Leaving her pitcher at the bar, with the injunction that it should be -filled and ready for her return, she passed out of the store and walked -slowly down Lincoln Street toward the Albany Station. The street was -full of children running to and fro with shouts and screams of laughter -or pain; some of them going in and out of the shops with pitchers and -mugs, some lying stupidly in the gutter. The air was stifling, and -as Bridget reached the corner she saw the groups of belated people -hurrying out to the Newtons and Wellesley, where they might cool -themselves in the pure air, with whatever means of comfort money could -purchase. - -Pet Sibley and Bridget Flanagan both reflected upon this as they -unconsciously drew nearer and nearer together. Pet was tired, and was -beginning to look for a horse-car to take her to her aunt’s house. The -little Irish princess had turned and left her “Palace” until she was -now near the head of Summer Street. - -Ten steps further, and they met upon the corner, with the great gilded -eagle’s wings outstretched above their heads. Both paused for a moment. -Pet was dressed as she had been in the boat--all in white, with a -pretty fluffy ostrich feather curving around her broad straw hat, and a -fleecy shawl thrown over her shoulders. Bridget’s shawl was not fleecy, -and her dress was not white. Nor did she wear lawn shoes. - -What either would have said I do not know. Perhaps nothing. Perhaps -their lives, just touching at this point, would have glided farther and -farther apart, until there was no room in this earth for them to meet -again. But at that moment something happened. - -“Look o’ that!” cried Bridget. - -“See!” cried Pet at the same moment; and they both pointed to the -third story of a high granite block across the street. One of the -windows was slightly open, and through this narrow space a delicate -curl of blue smoke floated softly out, laughed noiselessly to itself, -and disappeared. They could hardly have seen it at all, but for the -powerful electric light upon the corner. Another puff of smoke, and -another; then a steady stream, growing blacker and larger every moment. -A faint glow, reflected from somewhere inside, shone upon the window -panes. - -“What shall we do?” cried Pet; “it’s all on fire, and nobody knows!” -Instinctively she looked at Bridget for an answer. Somehow the -difference between herself and the ragged little Irish girl did not -seem so great just then. - -The fire had broken out near the place where the great fire of 1872 -started. Each of the girls could remember dimly that awful night of red -skies and glittering steeples. The massive blocks had been rebuilt, -business had rolled through the streets once more, property of value -untold lay piled away in those great warehouses on every side, and only -these two slender, wide-eyed girls knew of that ugly black smoke, with -its gleaming tongues of flame, gliding about over counter and shelf, as -Pet had seen the rat, a few minutes before. - -“Sure we must give the alar-r-m,” said Bridget, hurriedly, gathering -the faded shawl about her neck. - -“But I don’t know how. Do you?” - -“Don’t I? You jist come along wid me--run, now!” - -They almost flew down the street, dainty shoes and bare brown feet side -by side. - -“Here’s the box,” panted Bridget, pausing suddenly before an iron box -attached to a telegraph pole. “Can yer read where it says the key is?” - -Pet read: “Key at Faxon’s Building, corner of Bedford and Summer -Streets.” - -To reach the corner, rouse the watchman, snatch the key from his sleepy -hands, rush back again, and whisk open the iron box was the work of two -minutes. - -Perfect silence everywhere. - -“Look a-here, now,” said Bridget, breathlessly, standing on tiptoe. -“I’ve seen ’em do it.” - -She pulled the handle once, twice. Then they waited, their hearts -beating fiercely. They were off the travelled ways, and no one passed -by them. All this time the smoke was creeping up the stairways of the -lofty building, and the red fire was quietly devouring yard after yard -of wood-work. - -Bridget raised her hand to pull the lever for the third and last -time--when they both started. - -All over the broad, restless, wakeful city, the heavy bells rang out, -one following another like echoes. Sick people turned wearily in their -beds; babies awoke to bewail their broken naps; men and women stopped -at the corners of streets to count the number, and shook their heads. - -“Bad place, down by Summer and Chauncey Streets--let’s go!” said one to -another. - -ONE--TWO--THREE--FOUR--FIVE----ONE--TWO. - -Miss Augusta Vernon consulted her fire-alarm card, which always hung by -the sitting-room mantel-piece; then she went to the front window and -threw open the blinds. There was a faint flush on the sky, like the -coming dawn. - -“Dear me!” exclaimed aunt Augusta. “It’s a real fire. And this hot -night, too! I do hope they’ll have it out soon, poor fellows!” - -As she took her seat by the window, and watched the light growing -broader and redder every moment, her strong, kind features showed much -more anxiety than one would expect, considering that it was not her -store that was burning, nor her firemen fighting the fire. But aunt -Augusta, in the city, had a curious way like that of aunt Puss up in -the Maine woods, of concerning herself with other people’s troubles -and trying to lighten them, with loving-kindness or with money. As she -had a plentiful supply of both, her sympathy in such cases was apt to -be a substantial affair, really worth counting upon--as many a poor -creature, sick and in prison, could testify. - -As soon as the bells rang out, a great awe fell upon the two girls. -What mighty host of giants had they roused from sleep, calling hoarsely -to one another over the housetops? - -Pet drew closer to Bridget, and grasped her hand. Even Bridget seemed -dismayed at first, but quickly recovering herself, she half pushed, -half drew Pet up a flight of high stone steps near by. - -“Yer’ll git yer dress all kivered wid mud, if yer don’t kape out o’ the -strate,” she said, as she turned away. “I’m a-goin’ ter stay down an’ -tell ’em where the fire is. It says so on them little cards.” - -“But the crowd! When they come you will get hurt.” - -“Hm! I’m used to worse crowds nor ever you saw. There! I hear ’em now!” - -As Pet listened there rose a faint, far-off rattle of wheels upon the -pavement, mingled with a jangling sound of gongs and horns. - -“It’s the ingine!” cried Bridget, in great excitement. “It’s comin’!” - -But other things were coming too. Bridget had taken her stand directly -in front of the alarm-box, and a stream of men and boys who poured -around the corner jostled her roughly and pushed her to and fro. - -“Come!--come quick!” called Pet, just able to make herself heard above -the noise of the crowd. But Bridget shook her head, and pointed down -the street. - -It was a grand sight--the engine, with its scarlet wheels, and its -polished stack sending out a long trail of brilliant sparks like -shooting stars, the two powerful black horses tearing furiously over -the pavements, yet subject to the slightest word or touch of their -driver, who sat behind them firmly braced against the foot-board, the -reins taut as steel, and the gong sounding beneath without pause. - -“Get out of the way here!” shouted a burly policeman, forcing his way -through the crowd. - -The men surged back, and nobody noticed the little barefooted figure -who was hurled violently against the building. She uttered a faint -cry, and held up one foot, as a lame spaniel might do. A young man -with delicate clothes and a light cane, who had stopped on his way to -the station to “see the fun,” had set his heavy boot on the little, -shrinking foot. She might have got out of the way more quickly, but she -_must_ keep to the front to tell the firemen. - -The engine thundered up to the box and stopped, hissing and smoking -furiously. The black horses quivered and pawed the pavement, shaking -white flecks of foam over their sleek bodies. - -“Where’s the fire?” called the driver sharply. - -“Blest if I know--” began one of the men addressed, but he was -interrupted. - -“Sure it’s on Summer Street, sir, ’most up to Washington, on the other -side.” - -It was a surprisingly small, shrill voice for such an important piece -of information, but it sounded reliable. The driver knew that every -moment now might mean the loss of thousands of dollars, and, giving -his horses the rein, was galloping off up the street again, almost -before Bridget’s words were out of her mouth. A few moments after, the -panting engine and the distant shouts of the firemen told of the work -they were doing. - -Well, the block was saved. A few thousand dollars’ damage on goods -fully insured was all. Next morning the papers, being somewhat hard -pressed for news, gave “full particulars” of the fire. - -“It was fortunate,” said the eloquent reporter, in closing his account, -“that the fire was discovered by some passer-by, who promptly pulled in -an alarm from box fifty-two. Five minutes later, and the loss must have -been almost incalculable.” - -“Full particulars?” Perhaps not quite full. - -When the engine rattled away, with the crowd after it, Pet had come -timidly down the steps. Bridget had been borne away by the crowd, and -was not to be found. - -“Where are you?” she called. “I do not know your name--oh-h!” She -stopped with a pitiful little cry. - -Bridget was crouched in a miserable heap just around the corner. She -was stroking her bruised foot with trembling hands, and crying softly -to herself. Somehow she felt like the kitten, only she had no one to go -to; and her head was so dizzy! - -Then she looked up, and saw the white shawl and the ostrich feather and -Pet’s eyes. And once more Pet forgot the difference. - -A policeman found them there a few minutes later. Pet had her arms -around the faded shawl, and Bridget’s tously little head was lying -wearily against her shoulder. The poor trampled foot was bound up in -somebody’s embroidered handkerchief. - -Pet did not give the officer time to speak. She was on her own ground -now. - -“Will you call a hack or a herdic, please? This girl is sick.” - -The tone was quiet, but plainly said it was accustomed to giving -directions, and having them obeyed, too. - -The policeman had approached with a rough joke on his tongue’s end, but -it turned into a respectful “Yes’m, certainly.” - -Of course they went straight to aunt Augusta, who was still sitting by -the window, and who was so used to emergencies that she took the whole -affair quite as a matter of course. - -“I’ve told the Lord I’m not worth it,” she had been heard to say, once, -“but such as I am, I want to help. So I’m always expecting Him to give -me something of the sort, just as my father used to let me hold the -tacks when he was at work on pictures or carpets.” - -Bridget was promptly put to bed and her foot dressed by Miss Augusta’s -own deft hands. Before long she was fast asleep, which probably didn’t -make much difference with her state of mind, as the whole scene, with -Pet and the motherly woman hovering about her, was the best kind of a -dream. - -Meanwhile Pet told the story to her aunt; she had learned from the -Irish girl, on the way to the house, that she had no father or mother -living, but made her home with a dissipated uncle and brother, who -took turns in the prisoner’s dock of the criminal court; where, likely -enough, Bridget would have taken her own turn, before long. - -“I know what I’m going to do,” said Miss Augusta, decisively. “I’m -going to send her up to Mrs. Percival. When are you going back, Pet?” - -“Day after to-morrow, I think.” - -“Well, you can take her along as well as not.” - -“But her family--” - -“I’ll see Mr. Waldron--he’s the City Missionary--and he’ll fix it all -right. We’ve often arranged matters like this.” - -“But do you suppose Mrs. Percival will take her?” asked Pet rather -doubtfully. - -“I don’t see’s she can help it,” said Miss Augusta, with a short laugh. -“Don’t you fear. I know ‘aunt Puss’ better than you do, though I never -’ve seen her. Kittie and Bess told me all about her, last spring.” So -it came about that when Pet took her seat in the Northern train, a few -days later, a neatly dressed little Irish girl sat beside her, awed -into silence by the furniture of the car and, shortly afterward, by its -rapid motion. - -When the conductor came round for the tickets, her hand furtively stole -over and clutched a fold of Pet’s rich dress, for protection from the -man in uniform. And Pet had to reassure her, and point out interesting -bits of landscape as they flew northward toward The Pines, side by -side. - - - - -CHAPTER V. - -IN THE DEN. - - -At The Pines, during Pet’s absence, the summer days passed swiftly -and joyously; joyously at least for all but one of the party. Tom was -no longer the bright, merry, mischievous Tom of old. He joined in the -sports and rambles of the others, it is true, but with a sober face and -lagging step quite unnatural for him; and he was often away from the -house, alone. As these strange ways grew more marked, Randolph tried to -get at the source of the boy’s trouble. But Tom shrugged his cousin’s -arm off from his shoulders where it had been affectionately laid, and -told him gruffly to “let a fellow alone--nothing was the matter!” - -It was almost time for Pet to return. The young people had arranged to -ride over to the railroad and meet her, with Ruel and the big wagon. -They had received a letter from her, telling a little about her -experience at the fire, and they were extremely anxious to hear the -whole story, and to see little Bridget, the heroine of the occasion. -Mr. Waldron, with his great, kindly heart, had given Miss Augusta all -the aid she asked, and more; so there was no obstacle in the way of -Bridget’s coming, unless it were aunt Puss. And the idea of aunt Puss -being an obstacle--! - -On the day before, Kittie and the captain had planned to go into the -woods and gather oak leaves for trimming, to decorate Pet’s room. What -was their dismay, on waking that morning, to hear the rain pouring -steadily on the shingles over their heads. - -“Now we can’t get any leaves!” exclaimed Bess sorrowfully, as she stood -at the window, looking out at the blurred landscape and the slanting -lines of rain between her and the wood-lot. “What ever _shall_ we do, -all day?” - -“O, I don’t know,” laughed Kittie, giving her sister’s long brown -hair a toss up backward and down over her eyes. “Uncle Percival will -think of something nice, I guess. And I’m glad the storm didn’t come -to-morrow, anyway!” - -“Perhaps it will.” - -“Perhaps it won’t!” Kittie’s face and voice were full of sunshine. - -“That’s right, Kittlin’,” said aunt Puss, coming in at that moment, and -kissing the girls. “That’s right, dear, always look on the bright side; -and if you can’t find it in to-day, borrow it from to-morrow. The Bible -doesn’t anywhere say, ‘sufficient unto the day is the _good_ thereof.’” - -“Please, ma’am,” said Kittie, returning the kiss affectionately, “what -did you call me?” - -“It’s the old Scotch form of ‘kitten,’” said aunt Puss, smiling. “I -first came across it in George MacDonald’s story of Alec Forbes--which -you both must read before you’re much older.” - -The sunshine from Kittie’s face began to rest on Bess, and to shine -back a little. - -“That’s what Kit always does, auntie,” she declared; “looks on -the bright side. When anybody’s sick at our house, and there’s no -particular change, she always says to people that inquire, ‘No worse, -thank you!’ instead of ‘No better,’ the way some folks do.” - -[Illustration: THE WEST WINDOW.] - -At the kitchen table, the subject was started up again, and Randolph -volunteered one of the little rhymes his brother had written. It was as -follows: - -DANDELION. - - A dandelion in a meadow grew - Among the waving grass and cowslips yellow; - Dining on sunshine, breakfasting on dew, - He was a right contented little fellow. - - Each morn his golden head he lifted straight - To catch the first sweet breath of coming day; - Each evening closed his sleepy eyes, to wait - Until the long, dark night should pass away. - - One afternoon, in sad, unquiet mood, - I passed beside this tiny, bright-faced flower, - And begged that he would tell me, if he could, - The secret of his joy through sun and shower. - - He looked at me with open eyes, and said: - “I know the sun is somewhere shining clear, - And when I cannot see him overhead, - I try to be a little sun, right here!” - -When the applause had ceased, and the talk had drifted in other -directions, Mr. Percival looked around the circle and with a twinkle in -his eye proposed that after breakfast the young people should make him -a visit in his den. - -“And we’ll have a rag fire,” he added soberly. - -“A _rag_ fire?” - -“Yes. In the summer time I rarely burn anything but rags in the den.” - -Now this “Den” was a most mysterious locality, which they had often -heard alluded to, but where little company was admitted. Mr. Percival, -I should add, was, as you may have guessed from aunt Puss’ remarks -about the “kittlin’,” a most earnest reader and lover of George -MacDonald’s books, which perhaps accounts for the curious arrangement I -am about to describe. - -“Are we to put on our wraps, Uncle?” asked Kittie, in some doubt -whether the Den was out-of-doors. “O, I _wish_ Pet was here!” - -“Pet shall come too, the very first rainy day. No; you’ll need no -wraps, dear. Only follow me softly, and don’t speak aloud!” And his -eyes twinkled again as he led the way out of the kitchen, and toward -the front part of the house. - -I have already, in the former volume of this series, partly described -this old “mansion-house” which the Percivals had occupied for -generations. The earliest of the family, Sir Richard Percyvalle, -came over from the north of England in 1690 or thereabouts. Half a -Scotchman, he brought with him alike the love of wild country, and of -the ancient castles and baronial halls so dear to the Englishman. This -“mansion-house,” as it was called throughout the county, situated -in the heart of a pine forest, near rugged hills and dancing brooks, -was the result. And here some branch of the Percival stock had lived -contentedly ever since, respected and loved by their few neighbors; -some, indeed, finding their way to the great cities and universities -and even back across the Atlantic, in pursuit of their education and -professional studies; but at least one manly representative of the -family always inhabiting the old house, which stood as stanchly as -ever against the blasts of the North Wind and the rigors of the New -England winter. It had all sorts of wings, ells and additions built -on, extending the original structure as the occupant’s whims or needs -demanded. The portion in actual use by the family throughout the year -was but a small fraction of the whole house. - -The injunction not to speak aloud considerably increased the fun -as well as the awe of the occasion, as Randolph, with his cousins, -followed their uncle in a dumb but not altogether silent row. - -Leaving the kitchen, they crossed a narrow passage-way leading into the -sitting-room. Beyond this was a sort of closet or cloak-room, and then -the front entry, a cold, cheerless place with a green fan-light over -the door which was now entirely disused. - -“Here the carriages used to drive up in ancient days,” said Mr. -Percival, “the postilions cracking their whips and the clumsy wheels -lumbering heavily over the driveway. Then elegant ladies would alight, -and passing through the open door ascend that staircase, their long -gowns, stiff with silk and brocade, trailing behind them. Hark! Do you -hear them rustling past us and up the stairs?” - -The girls listened, partly for the fun of the thing, and partly because -of the impressiveness of their uncle’s manner. The rain beat drearily -upon the door, and long, hanging vines brushed against it on the -outside. Within, it was so dark that they could scarcely distinguish -the staircase. - -On they went again, up the very stairs the bygone beauties had -ascended, through two broad chambers whose shutters were closed and -nailed tight. Then down again, over a narrow flight of steps, and along -a crooked passage, so dark that they had to feel their way. - -Kittie laughed nervously, as she clutched Bessie’s hand. - -“Did you ever see anything like it!” she whispered. “I feel exactly as -if I were in a story.” - -“I wish we’d stayed in the kitchen,” said Tom. “What’s the good of -coming into this dark hole? I’m going back.” And in spite of the -remonstrances of the others, he turned and retraced his steps. - -The sound of his footfalls, echoing down the passage, made the place -drearier than ever. - -“Hush!” said Mr. Percival, out of the darkness. “Listen!” - -They paused and strained their ears to catch a sound above that of the -storm, whose dull roar beat indistinctly, like ocean waves, on the -gables overhead. - -“I hear something!” exclaimed Randolph under his breath, entering fully -into the spirit of the adventure. - -“So do I!” said both girls at once. “It’s a kind of creaking, snapping -noise!” - -“Here,” added Mr. Percival solemnly, throwing open a door they had not -before perceived, “is the entrance to the Den.” - -The room into which they now emerged from the narrow entry was -apparently once intended for a dining-hall, though the young people had -never before known of even its existence. It was of oblong shape, and -had at one end a huge fireplace. The windows were heavily shuttered; -the air was damp and musty. In the dim light they could make out -clusters of old-fashioned candelabra, projecting here and there from -the walls like spectral arms. - -“Come on!” said Mr. Percival, advancing toward the end of the shadowy -room. To the surprise of all three, he walked straight into the -fireplace, stooping but slightly to avoid the mantel. The rest followed -him, wondering. The snapping noise was now louder than ever. Outside, -the wind moaned drearily. - -Mr. Percival now turned sharply to the left and pressed with the flat -of his hand against a projecting brick upon that side of the fireplace. - -What was the utter amazement of Randolph and the girls, as they crowded -up to discover what he was about, to see--not a brick wall where had -been one a moment before, but mere black space. - -“Come on!” said their uncle again, stepping into the opening. - -Randolph went in after him, and the girls next, not without their -misgivings. - -“It’s exactly like a dream!” - -“Or the Arabian Nights. Pinch me, Bess, to see if I’m asleep!” - -As soon as they found themselves in the new passage, they heard the -wall close behind them. Half a dozen steps further, and-- - -“This is my Den!” said Mr. Percival. - -The girls rubbed their eyes, and stared silently. This is what they saw: - -A small room, perhaps ten feet square. One window, with a deep -casement, making a window-seat at least two feet wide. A warm-tinted -carpet on the floor, where three Maltese kittens tumbled over each -other in solemn play; walls lined with books from floor to ceiling; -an open fire of twigs and stiff birch bark, blazing cheerily in a wee -fireplace--and in front of it, rocking serenely to and fro with her -knitting, aunt Puss! She looked up with her pleasant smile as the young -people entered. - -“He gave you a good surprise this time, dears, didn’t he?” - -“I never saw anything like it!” they exclaimed in a breath. “How in -the world did _you_ get here, ma’am?” - -Mrs. Percival looked at her husband, who took his seat in the large, -old-fashioned arm-chair which played an important part during the “Pine -Cone stories” in the winter; at the same time motioning to the others -to lie down on a bear-skin rug, before the fire. It must be borne in -mind that in Northern Maine it is cool enough for fires, on stormy -days, throughout the year. - -“I suppose,” he began, “it’s of no use making a mystery of it any -longer. The fact is, you are in a chimney at this minute. Look!” - -He pointed to the ceiling, which they now noticed was of some dark -wood. In the centre, or nearly so, was an opening, about eighteen -inches square and cased in the same wood, through which they could see -the sky. The opening was covered at the top, far above the level of the -ceiling, by a dull, glazed window, which could be raised or closed from -below by means of strong cords. - -“But what--what has become of the fire and the bricks, and all that, -sir?” - -“I’ll tell you,” said uncle Will, stooping to pick up two of the -kittens in one hand. “In old times, when my great-grandfather lived -here, there was always danger of attack of some kind. The woods were -full of Indians, though most of them hereabout were friendly, and there -was a large Indian village on the shores of the pond, where the old -gentleman and his family were held in equal love and respect. However, -roving bands were likely to turn up at any time, with tomahawk and -scalping-knife. Then there were privateering squads of outlaw French -and Canadians, who made raids on the frontier; and as we were always -stanch Whigs, the family was not safe even from the English, the -royalist partisans having suspicions of a spy in this locality.” - -“I thought ‘Whigs’ were the government party in England,” put in -Randolph. - -“So they are, to-day; but in the old Revolutionary times the Tories -were for the king, and the Whigs for independence. Well, for all these -reasons, it was thought best to have some secret hiding-place and way -of escape, in case of need. Where we are now, stood a huge chimney, -some eight feet square, supported on stone-and-brick arches in the -cellar. Around this chimney, as a precaution against fire, was left -a space of two or three feet between the bricks and the wall of the -house on that side where you see my little window. A sliding door was -constructed in the side of the dining-hall fireplace, by which one -could enter this space, and from that a trap-door opened upon a rough -staircase, into the cellar under the masonry.” - -“It doesn’t seem possible that such things can really be, right here in -Maine!” exclaimed Bess. “It’s like stories.” - -“If they can really be--as they are--in thousands of ancient dwellings -in Europe and the East, why not in America, where the dangers were -quite as terrible? Besides, dear, you will find out some day that the -real life of people going on everywhere around you is much more strange -than any story-book you ever read.” - -“But please, wouldn’t one starve or smother in that place down cellar?” - -“From the narrow space under the arches, I am told there led a long, -underground passage-way, which came to the surface within a quarter of -a mile of the house. I always fancied it was in the pasture, but never -could find it. This end was tightly closed up--if indeed the whole -passage-way was not an empty tale--years before I was born.” - -“And what has become of the chimney?” - -“It was taken out as useless and unsafe, when I was a boy. A few years -ago it occurred to me to wall in and fit up the space as a little -study. The ordinary entrance is from the sitting-room closet, only ten -feet from where you sit now. That is the way your aunt Puss came in.” - -The girls gave a relieved laugh as the vague terrors of the winding and -shadowy halls melted. - -“It’s as cosey as it can be,” said Kittie, stroking one of her -namesakes, and glancing over the books, the writing desk in one corner, -and the dancing flames. - -“But the rags, the rags!” cried Bess. “You said you only burned rags, -Uncle. Now I’ve caught you!” - -“Randolph,” remarked Mr. Percival, without directly answering her -question, “will you please hand me that small book on the third shelf -behind you--no, the next--that’s it.” - -He ran the leaves over rapidly, and handed the book back, open, to -the boy. “Please read that verse. The writer, who you will see is Mr. -Trowbridge, is supposed to be searching the woods for a bird whose song -he has just heard.” - -Randolph turned his back a little to the fire, as he lay on the -bear-skin, and read as follows: - - Long-drawn and clear its closes were-- - As if the hand of Music through - The sombre robe of silence drew - A thread of golden gossamer; - So pure a flute the fairy blew. - Like beggared princes of the wood, - In silver rags the birches stood; - The hemlocks, lordly counselors, - Were dumb; the sturdy servitors, - In beechen jackets patched and gray, - Seemed waiting spell-bound all the day - That low, entrancing note to hear,-- - “_Pe-wee! pe-wee! peer!_” - -The reader looked up, and seeing the interested faces of his listeners, -begged leave to read two more verses, they were so quaintly lovely: - - I quit the search, and sat me down - Beside the brook, irresolute, - And watched a little bird in suit - Of sombre olive, soft and brown, - Perched in the maple branches, mute; - With greenish gold its vest was fringed, - Its tiny cap was ebon tinged, - With ivory pale its wings were barred, - And its dark eyes were tender-starred. - “Dear bird,” I said, “what is thy name?” - And twice the mournful answer came, - So faint and far, and yet so near,-- - “_Pe-wee! pe-wee! peer!_” - - For so I found my forest bird,-- - The pewee of the loneliest woods, - Sole singer in these solitudes, - Which never robin’s whistle stirred, - Where never blue-bird’s plume intrudes. - Quick darting through the dewy morn, - The redstart trilled his twittering horn - And vanished in thick boughs; at even - Like liquid pearls fresh showered from heaven, - The high notes of the lone wood-thrush - Fell on the forest’s holy hush; - But thou all day complainest here,-- - “_Pe-wee! pe-wee! peer!_” - -“It _is_ lovely!” said Bess. - -“There’s one word in it that I don’t like, though,” remarked aunt Puss, -making her needles gleam in the firelight as they flew faster than ever. - -“I know,” cried Kittie, catching her eye, “it’s ‘complainest’!” - -Just then Tom came in, evidently from the guidance of Ruel, outside. -His sisters were too much interested in the room and the poem to notice -that his clothes were wet, as if he had been in the rain. - -“Better come up by the fire, old fellow,” said Randolph, so quietly -that the others did not hear. Tom started, but did as his cousin -suggested, without a word. - -“You are right, dear,” continued aunt Puss, “no bird ever ‘complains’.” - -“Oh! but it’s just poetry, you know, Aunt,” said Bess eagerly. “Of -course the birds don’t _really_ complain--” - -“Good poetry is always true,” said Mr. Percival. “Your aunt seems to me -quite right, my girl. The lovely things that our Father has made should -not be described as ‘complaining,’ even in fancy. After what is said -in the Book, about sparrows, surely no bird ought to complain even of -falling to the ground. The real secret of it was, I suspect, that the -writer was himself in an unquiet mood, and made the ‘little bird in -suit of sombre olive’ sing out his own discontent--as we are very apt -to do.” - -“But the rags--O, I see, I see, it’s just birch bark hanging on the -trunks and boughs of the trees!” - -“Let me see,” said uncle Percival, smiling, “whose favorite tree was -the white birch, when we were talking around our pine-cone fire last -winter?” - -“Mine,” said Bess. “But I never thought of the bark as ‘silver rags’; -nor of the trees as princes.” - -“Why not have a silver-rag story as well as pine-cone stories?” asked -Randolph. “We can throw on bits of bark to keep the fire up, just as we -did the cones; we only want a little blaze, anyway.” - -“I was afraid of it, I was afraid of it!” exclaimed Mr. Percival in -mock dismay. “I think I have an engagement in the lower pasture!” - -An immediate assault followed, from which the good-natured old man -rescued himself at last, breathless and rumpled, on promise of a story. -Several broad sheets of birch bark were drawn from a little cupboard -beside the fireplace and given to the girls, who tore them into thin, -silky strips, to be tossed on the fire during the progress of the -story. - - - - -CHAPTER VI. - -A SMALL HERO. - - -“Did you ever hear how a small boy--a very small boy indeed--saved -Holland?” began Mr. Percival, after reflecting a moment. - -“O no, sir. Is it a true story?” - -“Absolutely true, with the exception, perhaps, of the name.” - -“We never heard of him, anyway.” - -“If you were a set of Dutch young people, you would have! The boy Hans, -that did this brave deed, was a far finer fellow than Casabianca, who -‘stood on the burning deck,’ and supposed his father wanted him to -burn to death for nothing but sheer obedience. For Hans accomplished -something by his grand courage and endurance; he saved a whole nation!” - -“Do tell us about him. Kittie, throw on another piece of bark, and -don’t let that cunning little Maltee tumble into the fire!” - -“Well, Holland, you see, is a queer place. Hundreds of years ago people -came upon a great swampy piece of land, running far out into the sea, -and said, ‘Now if we could only keep out the ocean in some way, this -would be a nice place to live in. We could have towns and cities all -along the coast, and we could build ships to sail around the world, and -at last we should become so powerful that any nation would be glad to -call us friends.’ - -“Accordingly they set their wits to work to devise some plan for -holding back the salt tides, which rose and fell as they pleased all -through the borders of this country. Then they began to build huge -mounds of earth, or ‘dykes,’ along the shore; and they kept on building -until they had a strong earthen wall nearly or quite around their land. -Randolph, do you know any similar place in the Western Continent?” - -“In some parts of Nova Scotia, I believe, sir.” - -“And along the Mississippi,” added Tom. - -“Right, both of you. The result was that the sea could no longer -flood the fields, but threw its great waves and white foam against -the outside of the dykes as if it were always trying to push its way -in. As soon as people were sure their farms would not be washed away -and their cattle drowned, they built towns, which grew and prospered -amazingly. There was so little high land that there were but few -streams powerful enough to turn mill-wheels, so they made wind-mills to -grind their wheat and corn. Finally the country was named ‘Holland,’ -and, as the first dyke-builders had expected, great nations were glad -to win their good-will. - -“Not many years ago there lived in Holland a small boy, rather strong -for his age and size, whom we will call Hans Van Groot. His home was -near the sea; and after he had attended to all his duties about home, -he liked nothing better than to take a walk with his father along the -top of the dyke, and watch the white cows, as he called the foamy -waves, come rushing up to the shore, shaking their heads and bellowing -at him. - -“‘No, no!’ he would cry out, laughing gleefully, ‘you can’t get in, you -can’t get in! The fence is too strong for you!’ - -[Illustration: “THE WAVES WERE RUNNING ENORMOUSLY LARGE.”] - -“He might well say so; for this was a peculiarly dangerous point on the -coast, and the people knew that if the ocean should break the dyke all -Holland would be in peril, and thousands of lives, as well as no end of -valuable property, would be lost. So they had made the sea-wall doubly -thick and high for several miles in each direction.” - -“I’ve seen the waves dash up that way on Star Island, at the Shoals,” -said Bess. “They are awful, after a storm.” - -“On one of these quiet evening walks Hans’ father had been talking to -him about little faults. - -“‘If you do wrong once, my boy,’ he said, ‘no matter how little a wrong -it is, there will some other bad thing be pretty apt to follow it; -and so all the good in you may be swept away, bit by bit, until it is -almost impossible to stop it.’ - -“‘But it could be stopped very easily at first, father, you mean?’ - -“‘Yes, Hans; just as you could stop with one finger a tiny leak in this -dyke, which before morning would be a roaring flood so strong that no -human power could hold it back. And Holland would be lost.’ - -“Hans pondered over this a great deal, in his quiet way, as he went to -bed that night and drove the cattle back and forth from their pasture -during the next few days. He was thinking of it as he walked along the -sea-shore about a week later. His father was not with him this time, -having gone to a city several miles away to spend the night with a sick -friend.” - -As Mr. Percival reached this point in his story, a gust of wind arose -that made the old house creak and tremble in every joint; floods of -rain dashed against the little window, and the smoke at intervals -puffed from the fireplace out into the room. - -“There had been a long storm, and to-night the waves were running -enormously large--larger than Hans had ever seen them. It was flood -tide; and as they rolled up, one by one, like long green hills, they -would topple over and break with a sound like thunder, so near that -the spray flew all over Hans and soaked him through before he had been -there two minutes. He was plodding along, with head bent down against -the wind, when all at once his heart stood still, and he could almost -feel his hair start up in terror at what he saw. If you had seen it, -perhaps you wouldn’t have noticed it; but he knew what it meant. It was -a very, very small stream of water trickling out through the soil and -gravel on the _inside_ of the dyke. Hans knew it was the sea, which had -at last found its way through. ‘Before morning,’ his father had said! -Hans thought one moment of the awful scene that was coming, and the -picture of his own home, surrounded by the terrible waves, rose before -him. - -“He threw himself flat upon the dyke, and thrusting the forefinger of -his right hand into the hole, shrieked for help. - -“It was about sunset, and the good Dutch country people were all at -home for the night. The nearest house was half a mile away.” - -“Why didn’t he put a rock or a stick of wood in?” demanded Kittie -eagerly. - -“There was no wood handy, I suppose; and even if there had been, the -water would have soon forced it out of the hole. A pebble would have -been useless for the same reason. No, the boy must hold the ocean with -his one little hand--the wind pushing, the moon pulling against him. - -“‘Help! help! The dyke is breaking!’ - -“Nobody came. The night-fogs began to creep up from the sea, the wind -shifted back to the old stormy quarter and blew hard toward the land. -The tide was still rising, and the ‘white cows’ outside bellowed more -and more terribly. The stars went out, one by one. - -“‘Help!’ Hans felt his finger, his hand, his whole arm, beginning to -ache from the strained position, but he did not dare to change. Would -nobody come? - -“Blacker and blacker grew the night. The awful booming of the sea -drowned entirely the now feeble cry of the boy. The leak was stopped: -but could he bear it much longer? The pain shot up and down his arm and -shoulder like fire-flashes, until he groaned and cried aloud. He said -his prayers, partly for somebody to come and partly for strength to -hold out till they did. - -“The temptation came to him powerfully to take out his aching hand and -run away. Nobody would know of it; and the pain was so keen! But he -said his little Dutch prayers the harder, and--held on. - - * * * * * - -“In the early gray of the morning a party of men came clambering along -the dyke, shouting and swinging lanterns. At last one of them--can -you guess which?--espied what looked like a heap of rags lying on the -ground. - -“‘It’s his clothes!’ he cried, in a trembling voice. Then, ‘It’s -Hans himself, thank God! thank God!’ - -[Illustration: “CALLING ANXIOUSLY FOR HIM.”] - -“He had ‘held on,’ you see, until he fainted with pain and exhaustion. -Wet through, cold as ice, his whole hand and arm swelled terribly, he -still held on, unconsciously, with his finger in the leak. - -“So Hans prevented the destruction of the great dyke. He lost his own -right hand in doing it, to be sure; but in losing that he had saved -Holland.” - -“One more! One more!” chorused the children, as their uncle concluded. -“That was so short!” - -“Well,” said he, good-naturedly, “throw on a few more ‘silver rags’, -Tom; there’s just time for a very short one before dinner. Do you -remember that little Fred Colebrook who came here for a few minutes, -the day the Indians were tried?” - -“The one with the curly hair? Yes, sir. He’s visiting at Mr. -Thompson’s, isn’t he?” - -“Yes; his home is in a queer place--at least, what was his home till -last year, when his folks moved to the city. - -“It was a little valley, with huge mountains on every side, so steep -and so close together that you would think there was no way to get -through to the world outside. Some of the mountains were covered with -pine and spruce trees, clinging to their sides like the shaggy fur of -a Newfoundland dog; others were bare from top to bottom, with bits of -red stone tumbling over their ugly-looking ledges almost every day. -The valley itself was pretty enough, with its tiny green meadow, and -a brook which laughed and played in the sunshine all day long. It was -rather a lonesome place, to be sure, but Fred did not mind that; for -did he not have his father, and his mother, and the workingman for -company; besides the old red cow, the horses, and five small gray -kittens? These kittens were Fred’s special pets. He was never tired -of feeling their soft fur and cool little feet against his cheek, and -hearing their sleepy _purr-r-purr-r_. Sometimes he would carry one of -them slyly up to the sober cow, feeding quietly in front of the house, -and place the kitten on her back. It was hard to tell which was more -astonished, the kitten or the cow. At any rate, they both would jump, -with such funny looks of surprise, and the kitten would run away as -fast as ever she could, to tell her adventure to the other four. - -“One warm afternoon in June, Fred was sitting on the piazza watching -the kittens, as they tumbled about after their own tails, scampered -across the green, or hunted grasshoppers from spot to spot. The breeze -blew softly, and there was no sound in the air but the rush of the -brook, just below the hill. - -“The kittens raced about harder than ever. One of them in particular, -whose name was Mischief, was more active than all the rest. She would -jump up into the air, turn somersaults, and finally took several steps -on her hind paws in her eagerness to catch a bright red butterfly, just -over her head. All this amused Fred greatly as he sat there in the warm -sunlight, with his head leaning against the door-post. But Mischief -still kept on, becoming more and more daring. She seemed to have fairly -learned to keep her balance on two feet, with the aid of her bushy -tail, for she ran about, to and fro, with her fore-paws stretched out -after the butterfly, like a child. Once or twice she laughed aloud. It -did not seem so strange, when she was standing up in that fashion, nor -was Fred at all surprised to notice that she seemed much larger than -ever before. - -“‘Of course,’ he thought, ‘one is taller standing up than when one -is on one’s hands and knees.’ The other kittens had by this time -disappeared entirely from sight, leaving only Mischief, who now walked -about more slowly, and, having caught the butterfly, came sauntering up -to where Fred was sitting. - -“‘Mischief,’ he began severely, ‘you’ve no right to treat that poor -butterfly’--Here he stopped, rather puzzled; what she held in her hand -was certainly no butterfly; it was a fan, covered with soft black and -scarlet feathers, and richly ornamented with gems. - -“‘Well,’ said the kitten, carelessly, ‘go on. You were saying it was -nothing but-a-fly, I think;’ and she stooped slightly to arrange the -folds of her dress. This was of delicate gray velvet, fitting closely -to her pretty figure and trailing on the grass behind her. Indeed, Fred -now saw that she was not a kitten at all, but a dainty little lady, -about as high as his shoulder. She watched him with an amused smile, -and continued to fan herself. ‘I had such a run for this fan,’ she went -on, as if to put the boy at his ease; ‘the wind blew it quite out of my -hand, and--dear me, there it goes again!’ - -“As she was speaking, the fan made a queer sort of flutter in her -hands, and floated off into the sunshine. She sprang lightly into the -air, whirled around after it until Fred’s head was giddy, then walked -back quietly and stood before him again, fanning herself slowly, as if -nothing had happened. - -“Fred felt that to be polite he ought to say something. - -“‘I don’t understand, Miss ---- Miss ----’ he paused doubtfully. - -“‘That’s right; Mischief,’ she said promptly. ‘You needn’t trouble -yourself to name me over again.’ - -“‘But you’re not Mischief,’ persisted Fred. ‘At least not the one I -know. She’s a kitten.’ - -“‘Well, what am I, pray?’ Fred rubbed his eyes; there she stood, -looking almost exactly as she had a minute before; yet that was -certainly a fuzzy gray tail resting on the grass, and these were -certainly his kitten’s paws and round eyes. She was purring softly. - -“‘Now, Mischief,’ he cried out eagerly, ‘you’ve been playing tricks, -and I’m going to stroke you the wrong way, to pay up for it.’ - -“The kitten stopped purring. ‘Don’t,’ she said, sharply; ‘you’ll -crumple my dress! There,’ she added, in a gentler tone, seeing his -dismay, ‘you didn’t mean any harm. Be a good boy and I’ll let you take -a walk with me.’ She threw away her fan, and held out her little gloved -hand to him, as she spoke, for she was a lady again beyond all doubt. -Fred took her hand with some hesitation, and off they started together. -As they walked along, side by side, Mischief kept up such a steady, -soft little flow of talk that Fred could not tell it from purring half -the time. At last they reached the foot of one of the high mountains, -and Mischief began to scramble up, pulling him along as she did so. - -“‘But I--never--was here before,’ he tried to say, as his little guide -leaped from rock to stump, catching them gracefully, and swinging him -up after her. Mischief never stopped, however, until they reached the -very tip-top. Then they sat down to rest on a mossy rock. The view was -glorious; Fred could see his house, nestling in the valley far, far -below him, and looking no bigger than a pin in a green pincushion. - -“‘Speaking of pins,’ said Mischief, as if she read his thoughts, ‘how -many pine needles are there in a bunch? I suppose you learned that at -school.’ - -“‘No,’ said Fred, ‘we had how many shillings there are in a guinea, -and how many rods make a furlong, and--’ Here Mischief appeared so -intensely interested that he was quite confused, and stopped short. - -“‘Go on,’ she cried, impatiently; ‘how do you make your fur long?’ - -“Fred was dreadfully puzzled. ‘Excuse me,’ he said, ‘I don’t think you -quite understood me.’ - -“‘Well, never mind. How about the needles?’ - -“‘I never learned that table.’ - -“‘Humph! I thought everybody knew there were three in a bunch on a -pitch pine, and five in a bunch on a white pine. It’s in the catechism.’ - -“‘No, it’s not,’ said Fred, decidedly. - -“‘It ought to be, then, which is precisely the same thing with us -kittens.’ - -“‘It isn’t with folks,’ said Fred. - -“‘Well, let me see if you know anything at all. Do you see that black -cloud coming up over the hills?’ - -“‘Yes’m.’ - -“‘Probably it will rain to-night, will it not?’ - -“‘Yes’m,’ replied Fred again, meekly. - -“‘Why should it?’ - -“Fred looked at the cloud blankly; he really had never thought of this -before. - -“‘Of course you don’t know,’ said Mischief, after waiting a moment for -him to answer. ‘It’s because every drop of water in that cloud has -thin, gauzy wings of fog, and when they happen to come across a cold -breeze--as they often do in these high mountains--they shiver and fold -up their wings so they can’t fly any more, and down they come in what -you call a rain storm. I knew that before I had my eyes open. Now,’ she -continued, ‘I’m going to try you just once more, and then we must be -going. Did you ever see a kitten walk on tip-toes?’ - -“‘Never,’ said Fred. ‘Except,’ he added slyly, ‘when they jump after -butterflies.’ - -“Mischief laughed outright. ‘Dear me, you funny boy,’ she said, ‘where -_have_ you been to school? Why, _all_ kittens walk on tip-toes, from -morning till night. That little crook that looks like a knee is really -a kitten’s heel. Horses walk the same way, only they have just one -toe to walk on, and that longer then your arm. You ask that little -gray-bearded man with the blue spectacles, that comes here once in a -while, and he will tell you that many thousand years ago horses had as -many toes as kittens, but they are such great, awkward things that all -their other toes have been taken away from them. A cow has--’ - -“‘I know!’ cried Fred. ‘She has a cloven hoof, without any toes at all.’ - -“‘You’re all wrong, as usual,’ said Mischief briskly; ‘what you call -hoof is her two toes. Though why she should be allowed to keep more -than a horse, I never could see. Great red thing!’ Just then, a big -drop of rain came down, spat! on Mischief’s nose. She rubbed it off -hastily with her nice little mouse-gray gloves, and looked about her -with a frightened air. ‘It never will do for me to be caught in a -shower,’ she said, ‘or my gloves and dress will be spotted. They’ve -been in the family a long time and were imported from Malta.’ Another -drop struck her face, tickling her so that she sneezed violently. - -“‘Come!’ she cried, and started off at a full run, down the -mountain-side, pulling Fred after her as before. ‘Hurry, hurry,’ she -screamed; ‘faster, faster!’ - -“Fred now saw, to his horror, that instead of descending the side on -which they had come up, she was making straight toward the slope where -the rocks were bare and red. - -“‘Stop, stop, Mischief!’ he cried breathlessly, ‘we shall go over the -cliff!’ - -“Before the words were fairly out of his mouth they were on the -crumbling edge of a precipice. In that instant Fred could see the road -and the brook a thousand feet below them. - -“He braced his feet against the stones and tried to snatch his hand -away, but Mischief held it more tightly than ever. With one wild bound -they were over the brink, out in the empty air, falling down, down-- - -“Come, come, Fred, you’ll be wet through!” - -“Fred looked about him in amazement. He was sitting on the piazza, and -there was Mischief in his lap. She was shaking off the rain-drops as -they fell thickly upon her soft fur, and was struggling to get away -from his hand, which was tightly clasped about one of her fore-paws. -His other hand was held by his mother, who stood over him, laughing -and talking at the same time. ‘Why, Fred, have you been here all the -afternoon? I guess the kitten has had a nice nap; and just see how it -rains!’ - -“‘Mischief,’ began Fred solemnly, letting go her paw, ‘what have you -been--?’ but Mischief had already jumped and run off to the barn, to -find her brothers and sisters.” - - - - -CHAPTER VII. - -OAK LEAVES AND HAY. - - -How it did pour that afternoon! It was of no use to think of going into -the woods for leaves, and the girls had just about given up all idea of -decorating Pet’s room, when the kitchen window was obscured by a queer -object. - -Kittie came flying out from the sitting-room, closely followed by the -rest. - -“What can it be?” she cried. “O, I know! It’s Ruel--just see what he’s -brought!” - -Sure enough, the kindly trapper, who loved the young folks almost as -if they were his own children, had tramped off quietly to the wood, -gathered a huge armful of green oak boughs--and now stood, beaming out -of the midst of them, like a good-natured Faun, fairly dripping from -head to foot. - -“I thought you mout like to be workin’ while your uncle was tellin’ -stories,” he called out. “Where’ll you have em?” - -“O, in the barn, the barn. We’ve been cooped up in the house all day, -and I’m just longing for a breath of fresh air.” - -Thus the energetic Bess. - -“But the leaves are all wet,” objected Kittie. “Won’t they hurt the -hay, Uncle?” - -Mr. Percival smiled, and patted the eager brown head. “I guess they -won’t spoil the whole mow,” he said. “But of course I can’t tell you -any stories, because I’m going to toast my feet all the afternoon in -the Den.” - -Kittie saw a twinkle in his eye. - -“Ah,” she said coaxingly, “you’re just teasing us. You’re going to -come out where you can see to Tim and Ruel while they work, and then -you’re going to climb up into the hay-mow and _tell_, while we make -trimming--aren’t you, Uncle?” - -“‘_Aren’t_ you, Uncle?’” repeated Mr. Percival in a whimsical tone. -“Why, if you’re such a very earnest little puss about it, I suppose--I -must!” - -It didn’t take long to prepare for the barn. Hooded and water-proofed, -the girls ran across the little open space as fast as they could go, -wagging in and out under a big umbrella, screaming and laughing, -girl-fashion. - -Tom and Randolph followed in more military style, double-quicking in -fine order from porch to barn. The men were already there. In one of -the broad bays on the ground level of the barn was a mow of new hay; -and on the centre of this was deposited a huge heap of leaves, wet and -shining, pretty material for busy fingers to transform into links and -wreaths and festoons for Pet’s chamber. - -Mr. Percival was soon made comfortable in a hay-nest especially -hollowed out for him, and the rest seated themselves in a semi-circle -before him. The boys were set to work at once, stripping off leaves. - -“There,” said Bess, beginning to turn the stout stems and piercing the -tough green tissue of the leaves, “this is really--” - -“Nice,” furnished Randolph gravely. “That’s a good Boston word. Girls -always say that the weather is nice, and ice cream is nice, and going -to Europe is nice, and the sermon was nice, and--” - -“O hear him, hear him!” interrupted Kittie. “I guess ‘nice’ is as good -a word as ‘jolly.’ Boys all say that.” - -“Many a nice time, yes, and jolly too,” said uncle Will, as he watched -the swallows overhead, and listened with an amused smile to the -children’s funning, “I’ve had in this barn, in old times.” - -“Were there many fellows about here?” asked Tom. - -“Not many, but perhaps we appreciated one another all the better. The -district school was about a half a mile from the cross-roads, and we -boys were always ready for a good time. Once, though, our sport came -near turning out pretty seriously for me.” - -“How was that, sir?” The rest looked up with interested faces, but kept -on with their work. - -“Why, it was on a Saturday afternoon, I remember, at about this time of -year--no, it must have been later--in August, I think. - -“There were seven of us, just out of school, and ready for anything in -the shape of fun. It had been a clear race from the schoolhouse--we -never could go anywhere without a run or a leap-frog, or something of -the sort--till we reached the shade of an apple-tree, laughing, panting -and eating apples. The ground was covered with small, juicy fruit, -mellow on the upper side, and hard underneath. They were pretty sour, -but we didn’t care. - -“It was only half-past four, and we had two good hours before -supper-time all to ourselves. So we lay there, filling our pockets with -apples after we had eaten enough, and began to propose plans. - -“‘Let’s go down to the mill and see ’em saw logs.’ - -“‘Too far.’ - -“Well, who says ‘I spy,’ then? - -“This suggestion was well received, and I, who had made it, proceeded -to count off, one dropping away every time until the last, who happened -to be Bob Andrews--poor fellow, he was shot at Antietam!--was ‘It,’ and -was posted against the tree with his eyes covered. - -“‘Fifteen, twenty, twenty-five, thirty--I’m comin’ when I get to three -hundred!’ he shouted, as we scattered in all directions. - -“At first I made for a low wall near the house, and had hardly -time to gain it when Bob gave a flourish, and with a loud ‘Three -hundred--comin’!’ started for his prey. - -“Peeping through a crevice in the wall, and finding he was coming in my -direction, I hurriedly glanced about for a new hiding-place. - -“At that moment a red squirrel bounded lightly along the tops of the -stones, and disappeared in a crevice between two boards of the barn. - -“Instantly I followed the hint. Creeping on my hands and knees, I soon -reached the corner of the old gray building, and a moment later was in -the centre of the mow, burrowing down out of sight, until I was pretty -confident that it would take a smarter boy than Bob Andrews to find me -that time. - -“It was remarkably comfortable in that mow. The hay was fresh on top, -and although I had reached the under layer of last year’s crop, I -took care not to disturb it much, so that the dust did not trouble -me. I could hear the shouts of the boys as they were discovered, one -after the other, and the complaining tones of Bob, who, to my great -satisfaction, was ransacking every nook and corner of the place except -the right one. - -“A couple of swallows flew in and out over my head, twittering softly. -Perhaps they were returning for a last look at their old home, for it -was almost time they were away. - -“Whether it was the soft August air, or the distant, faint shouts of -the boys, or the voice of the swallows, I never knew; but when I roused -myself to climb down and have my laugh at the rest of the fellows, -to my surprise I found it was quite dark. At the same time I began to -experience a smothering sensation, and an almost unbearable heat. - -“I put up my hand. It instantly came into contact with hay so dry that -it made me sneeze. - -“I tried to push it aside and to rise; but, to my dismay, found myself -held down tightly by an immovable mass above, below, on all sides. I -had at first supposed the hay had tumbled or been thrown down for fun -upon me; but all in a flash, I realized the truth. I had fallen asleep, -and while unconscious, had been covered, by some of the farm-hands, -who, I remembered, had been directed that very morning to pitch the -entire contents of another mow upon this, as the flooring of the first -needed repairs. - -“I was sixteen, then, and pretty rugged for a boy of my years; but I -confess I felt a lump in my throat and a faint, dizzy terror sweep over -me from head to foot. - -“Buried alive in a hay-mow! For a few minutes I was quite frantic. I -shrieked for help; I dug furiously with hands and kicked with feet, -until my smarting eyes, nostrils and throat, half-choked with fine -hay-dust, compelled me to desist. - -“Then I began to plan more deliberately. It was pitch-dark, remember, -and so close that I could hardly breathe. The perspiration, too, was -streaming from every pore. If I had known my points of compass, I -could have made a bee-line for the nearest limit of the mow, but I had -turned in sleeping, and struggled so violently afterward, that I was as -completely lost as though I had been in the Maine wilderness. - -“There was no time to spare. My breath came in a quick, heavy panting. -I felt my strength growing plainly less. At the same time, I began to -be hungry and thirsty. How much time had elapsed since I had hidden -away I could not tell. Perhaps it was supper-time. - -“What would I have given to have been sitting in the smooth-floored, -old kitchen, with my bowl of bread and milk before me, relating my -strange adventure to the half-sympathizing, half-laughing faces around -the table? - -“I began slowly to loosen the hay upon my right side, which I judged -was toward the centre of the barn. If so, my course would bring me out -through the side of the mow, twenty feet above the floor. - -“It was tedious work, for I dared not hurry lest I should be overcome -with heat and the dust, which kept me coughing almost incessantly. - -“Handful after handful I pulled out and crowded behind me. Every muscle -ached with the cramped position, and the air became more and more -close. Still, I worked on steadily, desperately. How long it was I -cannot tell--I never knew. - -“I was drawing away the tightly-packed masses of hay, a small bunch at -a time, when the air suddenly became perceptibly cooler and sweeter. I -dug at the cruel hay wall more furiously. Somewhere beneath me I heard -a slight scrambling and rustling, which soon ceased. - -“A moment later, my finger-ends struck the rough surface of boards, -and, as they did so, a cold, delicious draught of air, like -spring-water in a desert, blew upon my hot cheek. - -“I felt about eagerly, still seeing nothing, and soon came upon a small -hole or interstice, with roughened sides, as if gnawed by some animal, -between the edges of two of the boards which formed the partition I had -met. It did not take me long, country boy as I was, to reason out the -nature of that opening. It was a squirrel’s hole, without doubt the -very spot where my bushy-tailed guide had disappeared, as I watched him -from behind the stone wall. - -“I put my eye to the opening, and looked out. To my astonishment, the -stars were shining brightly. Yes, and the moon! By its position in the -eastern sky--for it was past the full--I knew at last how long I had -been in that hay-mow. It was between twelve and one o’clock, and for -eight hours I had been buried, lost, in the hay. - -“I say had been, for now I felt quite at ease. No more exploring for -me that night! When morning came, I could easily call through my -squirrel’s front-door, and the men who came out early to milk would -pitch off the hay, and release me. - -“The only trouble was hunger and thirst, which, now that I had time to -think of them, oppressed me more than ever. Then I remembered those -apples. I suppose nothing will ever taste so good as that sour, hard -apple did that night. After I had made a bountiful lunch, I enlarged -my quarters a little, settled back comfortably, and waited for -milking-time. - -“That’s all there really is to tell. In due time, the stars faded, one -by one; the sky flushed all sorts of lovely roses and pinks; the cattle -began to stir about uneasily underneath; a distant door creaked, and -heavy boots slowly approached. - -“I placed my lips to the crack, and called in a low tone. You see, I -didn’t want to rouse all the folks. I knew they wouldn’t be worried, -because I had planned to go over to Merritt’s and stop with him that -very night. - -“Well, ten minutes later I stood on the barn-floor, brushing the -hay-seed from my hair and clothes, and stretching my aching limbs. I -found the witch-grass had cut my fingers a little, and that was about -all the harm that came of it. - -“I expected them all to laugh at the breakfast-table, and told my -story rather sheepishly; but when I got through, and looked round, the -folks had anything but smiling faces, and two of them passed me the -doughnuts, both at once. Mother cried outright. - -“‘If he hadn’t taken the right direction,’ she said, ‘or had kept going -in a circle’-- - -“Then she stopped; and so will I.” - -“Ah,” said Kittie, drawing a long breath, “that was a narrow escape. -It makes me feel stifled just to think of it.” - -“Was it this very barn, Uncle?” - -“Yes, Tom; and that further mow on the other side, where Kittie found -the man last winter, and had such a fright.” - -The trimming was nearly completed, but it still needed to be brought -into better shape, and a special yard or two of smaller leaves made for -the looking-glass, Bess said. “And can’t you tell us one more hay-mow -story, uncle Will.” - -“Let me speak to Tim a minute,” said Mr. Percival. “After I’ve given -him some directions, I’ll see if I can remember one. - -“It was a warm day in the early part of April,” he began, as soon as he -returned. “The air was mild, the sky was blue, with sunlight, and the -gentle spring breezes were full of all sorts of nice smells of fresh -earth and green, growing turf. The turf was in the moist places on the -sunny side of the old wall; above it, in their willow-baskets, pussies -were beginning to stretch out their little gray paws sleepily, as they -awoke one by one from their long nap. - -“As Zip spattered along the muddy roadside on his way home from -Sunday-school, he thought the world a pretty nice place to live in, on -the whole. ‘Zip,’ by the way, was short for ‘Zephaniah,’ which was his -long name. Folks only called him that when they were full of fun or -very cross; indeed, you could generally tell which by their tone. - -“A robin in the overhanging boughs of an apple-tree whistled cheerily -as Zip drew near. Instantly the boy seized a stone, and threw it at the -red feathers. The bird uttered a shrill cry of alarm, but flew away -unharmed, and presently was heard again far away in the orchard. Zip -was rather glad of this, after all. He wasn’t a cruel boy, but whenever -he saw a bird or a squirrel, something in him, he couldn’t tell what, -made him throw stones at it. - -“Now Zip, as I said, had just been to Sunday-school, and had been -thinking almost all the way home of the lesson. It was the story of -the very first Christian people, who started so bravely to be good and -true, and who tried to do just as Christ of Nazareth had taught them -and their fathers a few years before. - -“‘What a beautiful world it would be,’ the teacher had said, at the -close of school, ‘if everybody tried to do so now!’ - -“Zip was only twelve years old, and didn’t know much about the world -any way, but he had seen some acts that were quite unlike those of the -apostles so long ago. His father and mother were plain country people, -working hard from morning till night, and giving no anxious thought to -the morrow, but a great deal to to-day, which was pretty much the same -thing, only they were one day behind, and somehow could never catch -up. The hard-featured man at the counter of his country store, and the -tired-looking woman in the kitchen, each spent their lives, it seemed -to Zip, in getting dinner or clearing it away. So it happened that the -boy was glad enough of his Sunday afternoon, when, after returning from -school, he had three hours to himself before supper. - -“As he neared home he saw the small cattle-door of the barn left -invitingly open. He turned aside, picking his way among the brown -pools and streamlets that dimpled and twinkled in the sunlight, and -entered the great fragrant cave, lighted only by cracks between the -uneven boards, and a knot-hole here and there far above his head. The -oxen raised their broad foreheads, knocking their horns against the -stanchions. Zip gave them each a little pat between their meek brown -eyes, and scrambled up the ladder into the hay-mow. - -“It was a delicious place for a quiet Sunday afternoon. He waded over -to the very centre of the mow, dug a little hollow with his hands, and -cuddled down into it. Over his head were the dark beams with their -dusty webs and last year’s swallow’s nests; beneath him he could hear -the cattle munching away at their hay and grain, and now and then -putting down a heavy foot on the floor of their stalls. A dozen hens -were stalking about, picking wisely at various bits of grass-seed, and -clucking in soft tones. All around was the sweet scent of the hay. - -“As Zip lay in his snug nest he thought drowsily of what the teacher -had said about everybody being good. How comfortable and happy it would -be! The more he thought about it the pleasanter it seemed. Just then -there came a long, low note from one of the hens on the wide floor -below. The sound had so many quirks and turns in it, that Zip half -thought for a moment that it was some one speaking to him, and started -up to answer. Then he remembered it was only a hen, and leaned back -with a smile. - -“Presently he heard the same hen clucking, or cackling, again, and so -slowly and clearly did the notes come that he could have stated to -a positive certainty that something had been said down there on the -barn-floor, and that, too, about himself. He crept to the edge of the -mow and looked over. There were the hens just as he had often seen -them, only looking wiser than ever. Even while he looked the brown -pullet gave a vigorous scratch or two, pecked at the dusty boards once -or twice, shook her feathers, and said distinctly, - -“‘If they only knew!’ - -“Zip stared. Then a deep, soft voice, hardly more than a long, long -sigh, came from directly beneath him, ‘They would soon learn to be as -quiet as we are.’ - -“It was Star, the off-ox; there couldn’t be a doubt of it. - -“‘I don’t know,’ answered the brown pullet, winking upside-down after -her custom, ‘you great things are almost too quiet. One has to be -lively to get one’s supper, you know.’ - -“As she spoke she made a quick run after a tiny insect which had been -called out of its cranny by the warm sun, caught it on the wing, and -went on with what she had been saying. - -“‘In the first place, Star,’ she said, more gravely, ‘no one would be -angry without good reason, and then they wouldn’t beat animals for -nothing, would they, Billy?’ - -“The horse who was thus addressed seemed to shake his mane, and said -something which Zip took to be a very prolonged ‘nay,’ but he wasn’t -quite sure he answered at all. - -“‘Nobody would be selfish, and everybody would be kind,’ continued -Brown Pullet, ‘and trying to please others instead of themselves. They -wouldn’t hurt the feelings of anybody nor any thing. There’s Zip, now, -he wouldn’t throw stones at a robin; he would think how the poor little -bird-heart was beating faster and faster, and the soft red feathers -throbbing on her breast, as the ugly stone came whizzing through the -air to take her life!’ - -“Zip did think, and was sorry he threw the stone. It was a comfort that -he didn’t hit the bird, however, and he made up his mind to throw out -some crumbs on the well-curb that very night. - -“‘I declare,’ said Brown Pullet, with her feathers just a bit ruffled, -‘when I think of how pleasant and kind and polite and gentle folks -might be, and how they do say sharp, hurtful things (which I’ve -heard people say do bruise one more even than rocks), it makes me -really--there!’ she interrupted herself, ‘I declare, I’m getting angry -myself, which don’t help matters much. The best way for me to bring on -the good times is to begin myself. Speckle, Speckle,’ she called to one -of her companions, ‘here’s the plumpest barleycorn I’ve found to-day. I -sha’n’t have any peace till I see you eat it, to make up for my being -cross to you this morning when you tipped the water over on my toes. It -was cold, to be sure, but ’twas all an accident, and I oughtn’t to have -pecked you for it. Dear, dear, how late it’s getting! It’s quite dark, -da-a-rk, da-r-r-rk!’ - -“Zip gave a little jump, he hardly knew why, and looked about him. The -hens were still walking about the floor below, for he heard them as -plainly as before, only he couldn’t seem to make out what they said, -and somehow, too, he was back in his soft hay-nest again. He rubbed his -eyes, and stretched his sturdy little arms, found his way down the -ladder, and looked hard at the brown pullet. But she merely clucked -in her old way, and, turning her head on one side, looked up at him -curiously out of her wise, round eyes. - -“Zip then went over to see the two oxen, but they only lifted their -heads and watched him in silence for a moment, then gave two great, -soft, sweet-breathed sighs, and went on eating their hay.” - - * * * * * - -The oak-leaf decorations were now quite finished. The remainder of the -day, until dark, was spent in festooning them about Pet’s room, over -the doorways, and even in the chamber to be occupied by poor little -Bridget Flanagan, the unrecognized heroine of the Summer Street fire. - -Ruel, coming in to supper, reported bright streaks in the west, and -predicted fair cool weather on the morrow. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. - -POOR TOM! - - -That Ruel was a good weather-prophet, there could be no doubt. Long -before blue eyes and brown were opened at The Pines, the sun was -shining over hill and valley, and birds singing in every thicket, to -welcome the bright day. - -Plans were eagerly discussed at breakfast, and by eight o’clock the -great wagon was before the door, ready for a start. Tom alone hung back -and refused to go, saying he wanted to walk over to the Pond; so they -drove off without him, toward the Pineville Station. - -The horses, who had just enjoyed a rainy day’s rest in their stalls, -stepped off merrily. How sweet the air was! The girls and Randolph -drew in long breaths, and shouted and sang till they were tired. Mr. -Percival listened, and watched them with kindly eyes, now and then -engaging in the conversation himself. - -“Aren’t there any boys and girls around here except ourselves?” asked -Randolph as they whirled along over the road, here carpeted with pine -needles. - -“O there are plenty in Readville and Jamestown,” replied his uncle, -touching the glossy flank of the off horse with his whip. “There’s a -good-sized school in each town, and they draw the young folks together, -from all parts.” - -“What do they do for fun, I wonder?” - -“Well, just now they’re full of base-ball. The boys do the hard work, -out in the sun, and the girls make caps and badges for them and watch -them play. There’s a club in each town, I’m told.” - -“How nice!” exclaimed Bess. “I do so like to see real exciting games!” - -“Don’t you believe we could drive over sometime, Uncle?” asked Kittie. - -“Yes indeed, yes indeed; take you over to-morrow if you like--or send -you with Ruel.” - -“They’d be glad enough to git the boys to play with ’em,” remarked -Ruel, chiming in as his name was spoken. “They always think city boys -must know how, because they’ve seen the big clubs.” - -[Illustration: “HE WAS OFTEN AWAY FROM THE HOUSE, ALONE.”] - -It might as well be added right here that the boys did go over to -Readville, though not on the following day; and the village club were -so well pleased with their playing, that they invited the new-comers to -join their nine, during vacation, and to take part in any matches that -might occur. Randolph, indeed, so gained in favor by his pleasant ways -and cool head that he was regularly elected Captain. Tom did well, too, -being a more graceful player than his cousin, but not so reliable in an -emergency. All this I have mentioned, to explain how the great Match -Game came about, of which we shall hear before long. - -Meanwhile the ride to the railroad progressed pleasantly. An excursion -to Bessie’s mountain (where she had lighted the birch-tree torch during -the thunder-storm) was planned in all its details. - -“Pet will soon be rested,” said Kittie in gleeful tones, “and then -we’ll have our picnic. Ruel, you must take plenty of matches, and your -axe.” - -“What’s the axe fer?” - -“O tables, and a tent, perhaps.” - -“And birch bark,” added the guide. - -“Birch bark? I thought you cut that off with penknives. O, can we get a -lot, to carry home?” - -“Don’t see why not, ef you c’n stan’ the work.” - -“Has Pet another watch?” asked Randolph suddenly. “She said something -about it in her last letter to you, Bess, didn’t she?” - -“No. Her father thinks it was careless of her to lose it, now that it’s -certain it didn’t go into the pond when she fell overboard.” - -“I should like to know what’s the matter with Tom,” broke in Kittie. -“He’s acted queer, ever since that day.” - -“Yes,” said Mr. Percival soberly. “I’m troubled about the boy. He isn’t -his old merry self at all.” - -“What did he say about the Indians that afternoon, Uncle?” - -“Said he believed they took the watch and hid it; and that he hadn’t -seen it himself, and knew nothing about it.” - -“Was that at the trial?” - -“Just before. He wasn’t in the house when we examined the Indians.” - -“Well, he thinks everything of Pet,” said Randolph. “I guess he feels -bad about her losing it, and that’s what ails him. Hulloa, see that -crow on the fence just ahead there!” - -“He’s gone, he’s gone! O what are those little birds fluttering round -him?” - -“Them’s king-birds,” said Ruel. “They can’t put up with crows, nohaow.” - -“What, are they fighting him now?” - -“Teeth an’ claws. Look at him dive, to git out o’ their way!” - -“Do crows do any good, Ruel?” - -“Wal, I d’no. I s’pose, when you come right daown to it, the creeturs -ought ter be killed off. They do suck small bird’s eggs, an’ they’re a -powerful nuisance in a cornfield. But thar, I do hate to shoot anything -with wings on ’em, in these big woods.” - -“Why, Ruel?” inquired the boy curiously. - -“Wal, fer one reason, they’re good company, even those black rascals. -Many’s the time I’ve been off alone in the woods, in the winter, when -I couldn’t see nor hear a livin’ thing fer a week together. An’ some -mornin’ I’d hear a queer croakin’ noise near my cabin, an’ thar’d be a -crow--head on one side, a-talkin’ to a neighbor over’n a pine. Their -talkin’ ain’t anything like their reg’lar cawin’.” - -“What does it sound like?” - -“O, I d’no. Like a hoarse old man, talkin’ to himself, p’raps. Anyway, -it sounds sort o’ human, and I couldn’t knock ’em over, to save me.” - -By this time the girls had found something else to interest them by the -roadside, in the tree-tops, or the sky overhead; and so the ride went -on, happily, toward Pineville. - -But it is time to look back a little, and see what Tom is about, left -alone at The Pines. - - * * * * * - -As soon as the rest were gone, Tom glanced carelessly over his -shoulder, and sauntered off toward the woods. At a distance of about a -thousand feet from the house, he paused and looked curiously about him. -He had entered a clump of oaks and birches, just on the edge of the -pine forest; before him lay a little valley, into which he descended, -and leaving the path, followed the course of what was evidently in the -spring season a small stream, now entirely dry. Stepping cautiously, -to avoid treading upon dry twigs, he kept on down the ravine until he -reached a large bowlder, forming the outworks of a picturesquely broken -cliff whose fern-draped front towered some forty feet or more above his -head. - -An aged beech-tree, rooted about half-way up the juncture of the -boulder and the cliff, had bent downward in the course of years, until -its lowermost branches almost touched the ground. Seizing the nearest -of these, and aiding himself by slight projections and crannies in the -ledge itself, Tom drew himself up to the thick end of the tree, upon -the curving trunk of which he seated himself, breathless. He was now -in a sort of cavity, formed by the fall of the bowlder in ages past, -which had given shelter to the young beech and collected soil for its -nourishment. Ferns grew thickly above, below, on every side, along the -shelving surfaces, which, projecting over Tom’s head, made a snug nook -some five or six feet deep. This hiding-place the boy flattered himself -was entirely his own discovery, and thither he was accustomed to betake -himself on long summer afternoons; then, stretching out comfortably -at full length in the green shade, he would fancy himself in a wild -country, flying from Indians; or would pull a book from his pocket, and -lose himself in tales of peril and adventure. - -On this occasion, however, he had no book, and gave himself up to no -day dreams. Instead, he seemed worried and frightened, and peering -downward through the leaves, listened for any footstep that might be -approaching. - -No, he was quite alone. Only a thrush, singing musically, near by; and -from beyond, the solemn, never-ceasing murmur of the pines. - -With slow and careful movements, taking care not to disturb the loose -rocks or soil in the cavity, the boy turned and thrust his arm into a -narrow cleft that had been concealed by a clump of ferns. - -When he drew back his hand, something bright gleamed in it. It was -round, and shone gayly in an innocent bit of sunlight that came -flickering down through the tree-tops. It was talking to itself, too, -in a very busy and wise little way, as Tom satisfied himself at once, -holding it to his ear and listening anxiously. - -What would Pet have thought, as she whirled along in the North-bound -express from Boston that fair morning, could she have seen Tom -crouching on the shadowy ledge, trembling at every sound in the forest, -pale and frightened, clasping in his hand--her lost watch? Poor Tom! - - - - -CHAPTER IX. - -A MOUNTAIN CAMP. - - -“I should like to know,” said Pet breathlessly, as she clambered up the -steep slope of Saddleback, a day or two after her return to The Pines, -“whether there really is any top to this hill! Where was the birch you -set on fire, Bess?” - -The party paused a minute beside the path, to rest and get breath. - -“O, ever so far from here, away over on the Readville side of the -mountain.” - -“It spiles the looks of the tree,” observed Ruel, leaning on his axe, -“or I’d start one for ye naow. Leaves ’em all black, an’ sometimes -kills ’em, right aout--not to say anything ’bout settin’ the rest o’ -the woods on fire.” - -“What sort of a birch is that, over by that rock, uncle Will?” asked -Randolph. - -“That? That’s a black birch. Nice tasting bark. When we get to the top -and have lunch, we’ll talk about birches a little, if you like. Let me -see, whose favorite tree was it last year? Tom’s?” - -“Bessie’s, of course. Tom’s was the oak, because it wore squirrels and -oak-leaf trimming!” - -“Anyway,” said Tom, who, though a shade paler than in the old days, -seemed to have partially recovered his spirits, “oak trees are stronger -and tougher than pines or birches either; and I notice that uncle Will -has a white oak cane, this very minute!” - -“Time’s up!” interrupted Ruel, who always assumed the place of guide, -not to say leader, in such tramps as these. “It’s eleven o’clock naow, -and we’ve got a good piece to go yet, ’fore we’re onto the top of old -Saddleback.” - -The woods were very still, the air cool and fragrant, the moss deep and -soft under their feet, as they passed onward and upward. - - Climbing, climbing, - Climbing up Zion’s hill! - -sang the girls, over and over, till the rest caught the air and joined -in heartily, keeping step with the music. Now they turned an abrupt -corner, and from the summit of a high ledge could look far off over -the valley, with its piney woods and peaceful columns of smoke rising -here and there. Loon Pond glistened gayly in the full radiance of the -noon sun; now they attacked a rough natural stairway of bowlders and -fallen trees, the boys clambering up first, baskets on arm, and then -reaching down to give the others a helping hand. Pet, who was not used -to such rough travelling, had to stop and rest every few feet; but no -face was sunnier or laugh merrier than hers. Tom kept as near her side -as possible, and gave her many a helpful lift with his strong arm, over -the worst places. At one time she suddenly remembered that she had left -her handkerchief at the last halting-place; her cavalier was off before -she could stop him, racing down the steep path and returning with the -missing article in an incredibly short time. - -Still upward. The bowlders were prettily draped with ferns, which had -sunbeams given them to play with. In the underbrush close by, a flock -of partridges walked demurely and fearlessly along beside the party, -clucking in soft tones their surprise and curiosity. Tiny brooks -crossed the path and ran off laughing down the hill. Now there arose a -rushing sound, louder and more steadily continuous than the wind-dreams -in the tree-tops. - -It was a cataract, falling some eight feet into a black pool, covered -with little floating rafts of foam. And now they could see sky between -the trunks of trees ahead. - -“Hurrah!” shouted Tom. “There’s the top!” - -But the top was a good walk from there, and when at last they emerged -upon the little rocky plateau forming the summit, they were both tired -and hungry. - -“Rest for thirty minutes,” proclaimed Mr. Percival. “Then we’ll take -the back track.” - -“The back track! Oh-h-h!” - -“How about dinner, uncle?” - -“I’m just _starving_, sir!” - -“What time is it? Who’s got a watch?” - -Tom turned fiery red at this last question, and a sober look crossed -Pet’s face; but a moment later she was merry again. - -“_Please_, uncle Will,” she pleaded, “mayn’t we have lunch before we go -down?” - -“_Please_, Miss Pet, turn one of those brooks upside-down, and bring -up a few nice large birch trees--and this will be quite a comfortable -spot for dinner! No, dear, we’ll look all we want to at this beautiful -view, and then we’ll walk down a bit--only a few steps, and not just -the way we came--to a spot Ruel knows of, where shade, fuel and fresh -water are all at hand.” - -The view was indeed lovely: lakes shining here and there in the -woods; far-away villages, with tiny white church spires; mossy green -acres--thousands on thousands--of forest; the dim blue of Katahdin, to -the northeast; overhead, the tenderest and bluest of midsummer skies. - -“How beautiful that mountain looks!” said Pet slowly, from the turfy -couch where she had thrown herself down. “I wonder if there are strange -Indian stories and legends about it?” - -“A good many, I expect,” replied Mr. Percival, baring his forehead -to the cool breeze. “The Indians have always had a great respect for -mountains, especially where there was some peculiar formation or -feature which impressed their imagination--the ‘Profile,’ for instance, -in the White Mountains.” - -“I have heard the same about the Mount of the Holy Cross in Colorado,” -added Randolph. “That was one of the--” he paused and flushed a little, -as if uncertain whether to go on. - -“Yes, yes,” laughed uncle Will, guessing from his manner what he was -about to say. “It’s that famous brother of yours again. You ought to -bring him up here sometime, to recite his own verses. However, you do -it very well, for him.” - -“What has he written about that mountain, Randolph?” asked Kittie in a -respectful tone that made the rest laugh. - -“O, only three or four verses,” said Randolph. “You know the Cross is -formed by two immense ravines near the summit of the mountain, where -the ice and snow lie all the year round. These are the verses. - - -THE MOUNT OF THE HOLY CROSS. - - Down the rocky slopes and passes - Of the everlasting hills - Murmur low the crystal waters - Of a thousand tiny rills; - - Bearing from a lofty glacier - To the valley far below - Health and strength to every creature,-- - ’Tis for them ‘He giveth snow.’ - - On thy streamlet’s brink the wild deer - Prints with timid foot the moss; - To thy side the sparrow nestles,-- - Mountain of the Holy Cross! - - Pure and white amid the heavens - God hath set His glorious sign: - Symbol of a world’s deliverance, - Promise of a life divine.” - -[Illustration: THE MOUNT OF THE HOLY CROSS.] - -A little pause followed the poem, which Randolph had repeated in low, -quiet tones. At length it was time to go, and with Ruel for guide once -more, they threaded their way over fallen trees, around stumps and -treacherous ledges, down the mountain side until, at a distance of -perhaps a furlong from the summit, the guide threw down his axe. - -“I guess this’ll dew,” said he. - -“This” was a small cleared spot, some fifty feet across, along the -further side of which ran the brook, forming half a dozen mimic -cataracts. The woods on all sides were composed of evergreens, -interspersed with clumps of white birch showing prettily here and there -among the darker shadows. - -“Now,” said Mr. Percival briskly, “you and the girls can start a fire -and set the table, Randolph, while Tom helps Ruel and me to build a -camp.” - -“O, a camp! Where shall we make the fire?” - -“Over against that rock, on the lee side of the clearing, so the smoke -sha’n’t bother us.” - -All hands were soon at work vigorously. Ruel cut two strong, crotched -uprights, and a cross-pole, which Tom carried to their position near -the brook, as directed by his uncle. A frame-work was soon erected, and -long, slender poles stretched from the cross-piece back to the ground. -Next, Ruel took his sharp axe, and calling for the rest to follow, -plunged into the woods. In two minutes they came to a halt in the midst -of a group of fine birches, whose boles shone like veritable silver. - -The guide raised his axe, and laying the keen edge against the bark of -the nearest, as high as he could reach, drew it steadily downward. The -satiny bark parted on either side at the touch, asking for fingers to -pull it off. Ruel served a dozen other trees in the same way, and then -all set to work, separating bark from trunk. Tom found that his was -apt to split at every knot, but by watching his uncle he soon learned -to work more carefully, often using his whole arm to pry off the bark -instead of merely taking hold with his fingers. - -In this way they soon had a lot of splendid sheets, averaging about -four feet wide by five or six long. These they rolled into three -bundles, each taking one, and bore them back in triumph to the camp. -They found the table set, fire crackling, and company waiting with -sharpened appetites. Ruel declared, however, that he must “git the -bark onto the camp afore he eat a crumb;” and the rest helping with a -will, the task was soon accomplished. If Ruel had taken a quiet look -at the sky, and had his own reasons for finishing the hut--he kept his -forebodings to himself, and worked on in silence. The sheets of bark -were laid upon the rafters, lapping over each other like shingles, -while other poles were placed on top, to keep the bark in place. By the -aid of stout cord, side sheets were lashed on roughly, but well enough -for a temporary shelter on a summer day; and the camp was complete. - -“What shall we name it?” asked Kittie. - -“‘Camp Ruel’!” cried Pet, clapping her hands. “Three cheers for Camp -Ruel!” And they were given lustily, with many additional “tigers” and -cat-calls by the boys. - -After the more serious part of lunch was disposed of, the party were -comfortably seated in front of the camp, on rocks and mossy trunks. -Close at hand ran the brook, talking and laughing busily to itself. - -“I wish, Uncle,” said Bess, taking her favorite position by his side, -“you’d tell us a story about this brook. If you don’t know any, you can -make it up.” - -“I suppose,” said Mr. Percival reflectively, “I could tell you about -Midget. Only Midget was such a little fellow, and you boys and girls -are so exceedingly mature nowadays!” - -“O, do!” - -“Well, Midget, you see, is an odd little fellow. He has long, light -hair, which the other boys on the street would make fun of if they were -not so fond of him; a rather pale face, though it is browner now, after -half a summer in the country; and big blue eyes, that seem like bits of -sky that baby Midget caught on his way down from heaven, ten years ago, -and never lost. - -“Last September, Midget was at Crawford’s, in the White Mountains: -and one bright morning he took a walk, all alone, in a path that runs -beside a little brook leaping down the mountain-side near the hotel. -Now there is this curious thing about Midget--and that’s why I began by -calling him odd--namely, that when he is alone, all sorts of things -about him begin to talk; at least, he says they do, with a funny -twinkle and a sweet look in his blue eyes, which make me half believe -that the talk he hears comes from heaven too. At any rate, Midget had a -wonderful report to make of his walk that morning; and, as nearly as I -can remember, this was his account: - -“He said he had not gone far into the forest when he was startled, for -a moment, by hearing a group of children, somewhere in the woods, all -laughing and talking together, and having the merriest time possible. -Through the tumult of their happy cries he could distinguish a woman’s -voice, so deep and musical and tender that it filled him with delight. -He hurried up the path, turned the corner where he expected to find -them, and behold! it was the brook itself talking and laughing. - -“Every separate tiny waterfall had its own special voice, as different -from the rest as could be, but all chiming together musically and -joining with the grander undertone of what most people suppose to be -merely a larger cataract, but which Midget plainly perceived was a -tall, lovely lady, with flowing, fluttering robes of white. - -“And now she was singing to him. How he listened! Her song, he says, -was something like this: - - Down from the mosses that grow in the clouds - My children come dancing and laughing in crowds; - They dance to the valleys and meadows below, - And make the grass greener wherever they go. - -“‘But they have to go always just in one place,’ said Midget, -addressing the waterfall Lady. - -“‘That’s true,’ said the Lady. - -“‘It can’t be much fun,’ said Midget. - -“‘Oh, yes!’ said the Lady, merrily, letting a cool scarf of spray drift -over the boy’s puzzled face. - -“‘But I like to go wherever I like,’ said Midget. - -“‘So do my children. They like to go wherever they’re sent. They know -they’re doing right, so long as they do that, and doing right makes -them like it.’ - -“‘H’m,’ said Midget. - -“‘Besides,’ added the Lady, ‘once in a while, in the spring, they’re -allowed to take a run off into the woods a bit, just for fun.’ - -“‘I should like that,’ said Midget decisively. ‘But who--who sends -them, ma’am?’ - -“‘Ah!’ said the Lady, softly, ‘that’s the best part of all. It is our -Father, who loves us, and often walks beside his brooks and through the -meadows.’ - -“As she spoke, the end of the white scarf floated out into the -sunshine, and instantly glistened with fair colors. And at the same -moment the Lady began to sing: - - Down from the mountain-top - Flows the clear rill, - Dance, little Never-stop, - Doing His will; - Through the dark shadow-land, - Down from the hill, - To the bright meadow-land, - Doing His will, - Loving and serving and praising Him still. - -“Just then a low rumble was heard, far off on the slopes of Mt. -Washington, across the valley. - -“‘There!’ exclaimed Midget, ‘I must be going. Good-by, dear Lady-fall!’ - -“‘Good-by, good-by!’ sang the brook, as Midget hurried away down the -path toward the hotel. - -“He arrived just in time to escape a wetting. How it did rain! The -lightning glittered and the thunder rolled until the people huddled -about the big fire in the parlor were fairly scared into silence. - -“But Midget, with wide-open eyes, was not a bit frightened, and kept -right on telling me this story.” - -“Ah,” said Pet, “that’s lovely. But I suspect it was a dear old -gentleman, and not a small boy, who heard the waterfall lady sing.” - -“She is there, anyway,” said uncle Will, “and I can show her to you at -Crawford’s, within two minutes’ walk of the hotel, the very next time -we go there.” - -Pet looked puzzled, but said nothing. - -“Uncle,” said Kittie, throwing a few strips of bark on the fire, “you -said something about having a talk on birches.” - -“Well, dear--it must be a short one--how many kinds of birches do you -suppose there are in our woods?” - -“O, two--no, let me see--three. White, and Black--” - -“And Yellow,” put in Tom with an air of wisdom. - -“And Red and Canoe,” added Mr. Percival, with a smile. - -“So many! What are they good for?” - -“Canoes, tents and--nurses.” - -“Nurses!” - -“The growth of birches is so rapid that they are excellent for planting -beside other trees which are less hardy, so that the birches, or -‘nurses,’ as the gardeners call them, may shelter the babies from -extreme heat or cold.” - -“How funny! I knew, of course, that a garden of young trees was called -a nursery!” - -“Then the real Canoe Birch, which isn’t common hereabouts, was formerly -much used by the Indians for canoes and wigwams.” - -“How did they make the pieces stay?” - -“Sewed them.” - -“Thread?” - -“The slender roots of spruces. See!” And pulling up a tiny spruce that -grew by the rock on which he sat, he showed them the delicate, tough -rootlets. “Then,” he added, “of course the bark is very useful for -kindling, in the woods. The White Birch is almost always found with or -near the White Pine.” - -“I like to think of their being ‘princes,’ in ‘silver rags’,” said -Pet. “I should think there ought to be a legend about that, among the -Indians.” - -Something in their uncle’s expression made them all shout at once, -“There is! There is! O, please tell it!” - -“Well, well,” laughed Mr. Percival, “fortunately for all of us, it -isn’t very long. Tom, keep the fire going, while you listen. The rest -of you may interrupt and ask questions, whenever you wish. - -“A great, great many years ago, centuries before Columbus dreamed of -America, the Indians say the country was ruled by a king whose like was -never known before nor since. In an encampment high up on the slopes of -the Rocky Mountains he lived, and held his royal court. No one knew his -age, but though his beard fell in white waves over his aged breast, his -eye was as bright as an eagle’s and his voice strong and wise in every -council of the chiefs.” - -“What was his name?” asked Randolph. - -“He was called Manitou the Mighty. In his reign the Indian people grew -prosperous and happy. So deeply did they love and revere him that it -was quite as common to speak of him as ‘father,’ as to address him as -‘king.’ - -“‘Yes,’ said the monarch, when he heard of this, ‘yes, truly they are -my children. They are all princes, are they not?--my forest children!’ - -“So the years sped by. The king showed his age not a whit, save by his -snowy locks; and peace ruled throughout the land. - -“At last Manitou the Mighty called his chiefs, his ‘children,’ together -in council. - -“‘I am going away,’ he said, ‘to far-off countries, perhaps never to -return. But I shall know of my subjects, and shall leave them a book of -laws and directions, and they shall still be my children, and I shall -be their father and king.’ - -“Then the chiefs hid their faces and went out to the people with the -sorrowful tidings. And when the next morn broke, the Manitou had -vanished. - -“A week passed; and now began jealousies, hatred, avarice, tumults.” - -“Why didn’t they obey the laws in that book?” asked Kittie. - -“Well, in the first place, some professed to believe that the chiefs -made up the story about the book altogether, and had written the laws -themselves; though a child might have known that no other than Manitou -could possibly have thought and written out such glorious and gentle -words as the law book contained. Others pretended to live by the book, -but so twisted the meaning of its words that the result was worse than -if they had openly transgressed the law. - -“So matters went on, from bad to worse. Messages arrived now and then -from the king, with pleading and warning words, but in vain. - -“There came a day, in the dead of winter, when the chiefs met in stormy -conclave. Each one would be king. ‘Manitou,’ cried one and another, -‘called me his child, said I was a prince! Who shall rule over me!’ - -“The sound of a far-off avalanche, high up among the ice-fields of -the mountains, interrupted the assembly. Clouds gathered, black and -ominous. Rain-drops fell, hissing, upon the pine-tops and the wigwams -of Manitou’s wayward children. A hurricane arose, and swept away into -the roaring flood of the rapidly rising river all the wealth they had -been so eager to gain. The rumbling of avalanche upon avalanche grew -more terrible, nearer, nearer. The people turned to fly, with one -accord, but it was too late. Behold, the Manitou stood in their midst, -his long white beard tossed in the storm, his terrible eyes flashing -not with rage, but with grieved love. - -“‘Children, children!’ he cried, in a voice that, with its sad and -awful sweetness, broke their very hearts for shame and remorse, ‘Is it -thus that the princes of our race obey their father and fit themselves -to rule with him in the land beyond the great waters!’ - -“Then the people bowed their heads and moaned and threw up their arms -wildly, and swayed to and fro in the storm, and wailed, until--until--” - -The girls leaned forward breathlessly. Tom forgot to heap bark upon the -fire. Ruel had slipped away to the summit, some minutes before. - -“Until there was no longer a prince to be seen, but only a vast -assembly of writhing, tossing, quivering forest trees, the rain -dropping from their trembling leaves, their branches swaying helplessly -in the wind which moaned sadly through the forest. Only one trace -remained of their former greatness. Their bark, unlike that of every -other tree, was silvery white, and hung in tatters about them--as you -have seen them to-day, along this mountain side. For since that hour -the beggared princes have wandered far and wide, still wearing their -silver rags, still weeping and moaning when the storms are at their -highest, and they recall that awful day.” - -Pet drew a long breath. “And Manitou, what became of him?” - -“He still reigns, the legend goes, in the bright land beyond the great -waters.” - -“And must the princes always be birches?” - -“Ah, Pet, that is the most beautiful part of the tradition. By patient -continuance in well-doing, by self-sacrifice, by living for others, the -poor trees may at last make themselves worthy to see the king once more -as his children, leaving the withered tree-house behind. But not until -life is done, and well done. - -“So you see, every white birch is eager to give its bark for fuel and -protection, which is nearly all it can do, save to watch over the young -trees of the forest, as I have told you, to shield them from harm. - -“It is a long time for a birch to wait, sometimes many, many years -before even a little child will strip off one of its tattered shreds -and laugh for delight at the pretty bit of silver in its hand, little -dreaming of the prince whose garment it is; but the tree quivers with -joy at the thought that it has made one of these little ones happy for -even a moment, for so it has become more worthy to meet the king.” - -As Mr. Percival finished, Ruel returned from the summit of Saddleback. - -“You’d better get the things into camp, and foller ’em yourselves. -There’s a storm comin’. The wind’s jest haowlin’, over in the birches -on the west side of the maounting.” - - - - -CHAPTER X. - -THE STORM. - - -It was fortunate that Ruel made that little exploring expedition, all -by himself, for the storm was evidently rising fast. The sun went out; -clouds rolled up over the western sky until it seemed as if evening -were coming on; the forest was perfectly silent, except for a troubled -rustling of the birches, the plash of the brook, and a dull, far-off -sound like the waves of a distant ocean. - -Mr. Percival drove all the party into the camp, and Ruel busied himself -in laying on extra poles and closing every crack where the rain might -beat in at the sides. - -Kittie and Bess had been out in a storm before with their uncle, so -they didn’t much mind it. Pet nestled up close beside them, and waited -with wide-open eyes, hardly knowing whether to be more frightened or -delighted at the prospect. Tom was by far the most nervous of the -party, fidgeting about, begging Ruel to come inside, and behaving so -queerly that Bess declared with a laugh that she believed he felt like -the princes, when the Manitou was coming. As she spoke there was an -ominous and prolonged roll of thunder, and the tree-tops bent under the -first rush of the on-coming tempest. - -Tom started and turned white to the very lips, but answered never a -word. - -“Don’t bother the boy,” said Mr. Percival kindly. “See--the storm is -really upon us now!” - -A glittering flash of lightning accompanied his words, and was followed -by a rattling discharge of thunder. Up to this time, not a drop of rain -had fallen, but now it began to patter like bullets on the dry leaves, -the fire, and, loudest of all, on the bark roof above them. - -Ruel crept in at last, and all seven curled up in as small compass, as -far from the half-open front, as possible. How it did pour! It came -down in torrents, in sheets, with an uninterrupted roar. - -“Fire’s gittin’ tired,” remarked Ruel, after about two minutes of this; -and sure enough, nothing was left but a few charred brands, steaming -sulkily. - -The lightning and thunder now came almost simultaneously, flashing and -booming until the very sky above them seemed ablaze. - -After a few attempts at conversation the young folks gave it up, -and remained silent. Pet was very much frightened and hid her face -on Kittie’s shoulder, giving a little involuntary cry whenever an -unusually loud peal of thunder crashed overhead. - -For a full half-hour the fury of the storm lasted. Then it rolled away -over the hills and left only a light rain falling. It was still far -too wet for them to leave their shelter, but the party recovered their -spirits, and Ruel even managed to coax a new fire to blaze on the ruins -of the old, with the aid of some dry bark and sticks he had prudently -stowed away at the first alarm. The cheerful blaze and hissing crackle -of the fire were reassuring, and voices soon rose again, as merrily as -ever. - -“What time do you s’pose it is?” - -“Three o’clock!” - -“Say, aren’t you _awfully_ stiff? Do let me move my foot a little!” - -“Kit, let’s have a song. That one about the pines.” This was from Tom. - -Kittie accordingly sang the following lines, to a bright little air. -They were written by Randolph’s brother, she admitted with a blush and -a laugh; the tune was in Whiting’s Third Music Reader: - - The pines have gathered upon the hill, - To watch for the old-new moon; - I hear them whispering--“Hush, be still, - It is coming, coming soon; - Coming, coming soon!” - - The brown thrush sings to his small brown wife - Who broods below on her nest, - “Of all the wide world and of all my life, - It is you I love the best, - You I love the best!” - - But the baby moon is wide awake, - And its eyes are shining bright; - The pines in their arms the moon must take - And rock him to sleep to-night, - Rock him to sleep to-night! - -Kittie’s voice was a soft contralto, and though not strong, was very -sweet. There were hand-clapping and thanks in profusion; then a -unanimous cry for a story--something about a thunder-shower. - -These young people, be it said, always called on their uncle Will for a -story upon any subject, with as much confidence as you would have in -ordering roast beef or cake at a hotel, without looking at the bill. - -“Very well,” said the story-teller, after a moment’s reflection, “I’ll -tell you about Patsy’s Prayer.” - -“It was a sultry afternoon in August. In the government offices, from -the Alleghanies to Eastport, men were busily making up weather reports -of what promised to be the hottest day of the season. Pretty soon, some -of them began to find difficulty in managing their telegraph wires; the -air seemed charged with electricity; the men took their observations, -and worked harder than ever. At length the sergeant in charge of one -of the largest and busiest stations glanced up quickly from a bunch of -dispatches he had just read, examined the barometer with a great deal -of care, made a few notes in a huge memorandum book, and scratched off -a message, which was handed at once to the telegraph operator sitting -a few feet away. In five minutes the government weather officials -throughout New England knew that a dangerous storm-centre was rapidly -moving toward them; and up went their signals accordingly. - -“The Brookville farmers had heard nothing of all this, but they looked -at the sky knowingly, and hurried a little at their work. At the quiet -old Coburn house the ‘women folks’ were up-stairs asleep, in the lull -between dinner and supper; the men were afield, working with all their -might. - -“‘I dunno,’ said Patsy, ‘but I’ll take a bit av a walk wid Shock. Sure, -they won’t mind ef I’m back before tay.’ - -“Patsy Dolan and his four-year-old sister Shock (probably so-called in -reference to the usual state of her hair) were Boston children, who -had been sent into the country for a week by the Missionary Society. -Patsy himself was only nine, and knew nothing of the world outside of -his native city. As he stepped out of the back door of the old house, -leading his little sister, he instinctively glanced over his shoulder. -Then he laughed a little at himself. - -“‘No p’leecemen here!’ he said aloud, with a chuckle. ‘A feller can -kape onto the grass all he wants.’ - -“It was very slow walking, for Shock was not an accomplished -pedestrian, even on brick sidewalks; and here the ground was very -uneven. Besides, it must be confessed that her temper was rather -uncertain, and on this particular hot afternoon she constantly -required soothing. But Patsy cared little for this. He had been used -to taking care of his baby sister almost ever since she was born, and -he patiently submitted to her whims, now stopping to disentangle her -little bare feet from briery vines, now lifting her in his arms and -bearing her over an unusually rough spot. So they went on, across the -field, over a tiny brook, through a narrow belt of woods, and out upon -an open pasture, which bulged up here and there like a great quilt, -with patches of moss and grass, and with round juniper bushes for -buttons. At least, this was the image that vaguely suggested itself to -Patsy as he tugged his hot little burden along farther and farther away -from home. - -“Suddenly he stopped and looked up. - -“‘Sure, it’s comin’ on night,’ said he. ‘The sun’s gone entirely, it -is. We must be goin’ back.’ - -“But Shock had reached the limit of feminine endurance, and declined, -with all the firmness of her nature, this unexpected move. She objected -to that extent that she sat down hard on the ground, and wailed with -heat and weariness. - -“Patsy was a little nonplussed, for it was growing very dark. He was -acquainted with Shock’s resources of resistance, and hesitated to call -them forth. While he deliberated he winked and winced at the same -moment; a broad drop of water had struck full upon his upturned face. - -“‘Come out o’ that, Shockie,’ he cried, ‘we _must_ go now. The rain is -a-comin’!’ - -“Thereupon Shock made her next move, which was to lie flat on her back -and cry louder. She hadn’t begun to kick yet, but Patsy knew she would. - -“Another great drop fell, and another. It grew bright about them, then -suddenly darker than ever, as if somebody had lighted the gas and blown -it out. - -“Hark! Rumble, rumble, boom, bo-o-m--bo-o-m! Patsy pricked up his ears; -for even a city boy knows thunder, though it is half drowned by the -roar of the wagons and pavements. Without more words he dived at Shock, -and bore her away struggling, across the pasture. It had grown so dark -that he could not well see where to put his feet, so he fell once or -twice, bruising his wrists badly. But he managed to tumble in a way to -save Shock, so it didn’t matter. - -“There was a moaning and rustling sound in the far-off forests that -notched the horizon on every side. Then the wind and the rain joined -hands, and rushed forward wildly with a mighty roar that appalled the -boy, staggering under his heavy load. - -“He halted, and crouched in a little hollow. The voice of the storm now -quite swept away the feeble crying of the exhausted child in his arms. -As he cast a wild look about him, like a hunted rabbit, a brilliant -flash of lightning showed for an instant what promised a refuge which, -slight though it might be, seemed blessed compared with this bare field -where the storm was searching for him with its terrible, gleaming eyes -and hollow voice. If he could only reach that spot, Patsy thought, -he would feel easy. It was a single huge elm-tree, like those on the -Common, only standing quite alone in the pasture. It would be such a -nice place in a thunder-storm--poor Patsy! - -“A dim recollection of the prayers the mission people had taught him, -came into his mind. But he couldn’t think of anything but, ‘Now I lay -me,’ so he concluded to try for the tree first, and say his prayers -after he got there. - -“He lifted Shock once more in his aching arms, and started. - -“But God heard his little heart-prayer above all the booming of the -thunder; and this was how He answered it. - -“The boy was getting on bravely, when Shock, whose fright was renewed -by the motion, gave a sudden struggle. His foot slipped,--down, down he -went, into a gully that had lain, unseen, across his path. The bushes -broke his fall, but he lay a moment quite breathless and discouraged. -But it would not do to remain so; for there was Shock, by no means -injured, and crying lustily. Patsy picked himself up, and felt about -him until his hand struck the side of a large rock. There was a dry -place under one side, which projected slightly. He reached for Shock, -and deposited her in this sheltered spot, on some leaves the wind had -blown in there last autumn. He wished he could get in, too; but there -was barely room for one. - -“‘Told, told,’ moaned Shock, shivering, and drawing up her little limbs. - -“Without an instant’s hesitation Patsy threw off his wet jacket, and -tucked it round her. In three minutes he knew by her stillness and -regular breathing that she was asleep. - -“Then he began to be cold--very cold himself. Every whizzing rain-drop -seemed like ice, striking on his bare feet and bruised hands. If he -could only have that jacket, or put his feet in with Shock under it -just for a minute! - -“‘I don’t s’pose she’d know,’ he said to himself, with chattering -teeth. ‘But I won’t--no, I won’t. A feller must look out fer his -sister.’ - -“Then he remembered the prayers again; and the best thing he could -think of was the psalm he had been taught only the Sunday before. He -cuddled up as close to the rock as he could, and began: - -“‘The Lord is my shepherd--I shall--I shall--’ Here he forgot, and had -to commence again. - -“‘The Lord is my shepherd, I shall--not--want nothin’. He maketh me -to lie down in green pastures--’ Patsy paused, and peered into the -darkness doubtfully. ‘I dunno,’ he said, ‘as I want--’ - -“He never finished that sentence. And this was what interrupted him. A -great shimmering, glittering flash, that filled all the air, and at the -very same moment an awful crash--and the storm beat down upon a little -white face, upturned silently to the black sky. - - * * * * * - -“‘Hallo--hallo--o--o!’ The shout rang out clear and strong on the -evening air. Far off among the hills the last rumble of thunder was -dying away. - -“‘They must have gone along here,’ cried Farmer Coburn; ‘hold your -lantern, Tom--see, there’s their tracks.’ - -“‘Hallo! hallo--o--o!--Why, what--’ What makes Farmer Coburn stop so -suddenly, and then dart forward with one of the lanterns? A wee sound, -and a sad, sad sight. The sound is the waking voice of Shock, who turns -uneasily on her bed of dry leaves; the sight is a little white face, -upturned to the star-dotted sky. - -“How those rough men bent over the little fellow, the tears running -over their cheeks, as they noticed the jacket! - -“‘He’s alive!’ shouts Tom, with a half-sob, catching the boy up in his -arms, ‘he’s only stunned. The lightnin’ must have struck round here -somewhere, just near enough to knock him over. He’s comin’ to now!’ - -“And Patsy comes. He soon as he can talk, he tells them about it. - -“‘Why,’ he says, straightening up in Tom’s arms (Shock is sound asleep -again, with her tousled head bobbing on Farmer Coburn’s shoulder at -every step)--‘why, there’s the tree, sure--’ - -“The men looked, and turned away with a shudder. The noble elm would -never again lift its green boughs toward the sky. Scorching, rending, -shattering, the red lightning had torn its way down the huge trunk, -throwing the fragments on every side, and leaving the twisted fibres -thrust into the air, white and bare, in a way that told of the terrible -force that had had the mastery of them. - -“Patsy thought it all over very soberly. He remembered his prayer and -his psalm. - -“‘I dunno--’ he said.” - - * * * * * - -As uncle Will ceased, his auditors were very still; thinking, perhaps, -how they too had been kept safely from the fury of the tempest on the -lonely mountain-side. - -Ruel now looked out and announced that the storm was over; and indeed -there was hardly need of telling it, for the sunbeams came dancing -down to the little birch camp with the same story. Out poured the -young folks, the girls holding their skirts daintily from contact with -the dripping undergrowth, of which, fortunately, there was not an -abundance. The brook was much higher than before, and laughed and spoke -in deeper tones; as if, like many a young human life, it had grown old -during the storm, and was no longer a child. - -The whole party now “broke camp” and turned their faces homeward. Their -feet they could not keep dry, of course; but they were not far from The -Pines, and they knew that aunt Puss was waiting for them with dry socks -and a good supper. - -Down the path they ran, filling the air with their shouts and laughter. -Ruel came last, with a huge bundle of bark, made from the sheets they -had used on the hut. - -“No use to leave it there,” he said, in answer to Randolph’s laughing -question. “In a week ’twould jest be good fer spiders to live in--all -curled up in the sun. Daown ’t the house we c’n use it fer your uncle’s -fires, this tew months.” - - - - -CHAPTER XI. - -THE GREAT BASE-BALL MATCH. - - -There was great excitement at The Pines. Randolph and Tom had practised -several times with the Readville Base-Ball Nine, as I have said, -Randolph taking the lead, finally, of the whole club. On a certain -afternoon, about a week after the mountain tramp, a dozen or more boys -were gathered on the little open plot of ground which the Readville -people called the “Common,” eagerly discussing a subject which was -interesting enough to make their eyes sparkle and their voices all -chime in together as they talked. - -“Now, hold on, fellows,” exclaimed one of the tallest, raising his hand -for silence. “We may as well do this business up squarely on the spot. -I’ll read the challenge, if you’ll all keep still.” - -The boys threw themselves on the ground, and in various easy attitudes -prepared to listen. - -Randolph, who was speaker, remained standing, and drawing a paper from -his pocket, read as follows: - - “The Jamestown High School Nine hereby challenge the Readville Nine - to a game of base-ball, to be played on Readville Common, on the - afternoon of next Saturday, at three o’clock--” - -“Next Saturday!” interjected one of the listeners. - - “--five innings to count a game if stopped by rain. League rules to - be followed. - - “HIRAM BLACK, - “Captain Jamestown B. B. Nine.” - -A chorus of cheers and cat-calls broke out immediately on the -conclusion of the challenge; but Randolph raised his hand once more. - -“The question is, Shall we accept? Those in favor say ‘Aye!’” - -A tremendous shout rent the air. - -“Those opposed, ‘No!’” - -Dead silence. - -“It is a vote. Now for positions and players.” - -So far, there had been no dispute as to Randolph’s authority. He had -such a pleasant way of getting on with the boys that they followed his -lead willingly. - -When they came to the choice of positions, however, there was a little -more feeling. As to first, second and third base, the matter was easy -enough. There were two fellows who played shortstop well, but they were -warm friends, and each was ready to yield to the other. - -Dick Manning was acknowledged to be the best pitcher in town, having a -“drop twist” which he had gained by days of practice, at odd moments, -behind his father’s barn, and upon which he greatly prided himself in a -modest way. - -Up to this point all went smoothly. - -“Now, as to catcher,” said Randolph. “I know it’s a show place, and I -don’t want to put myself forward. But it’s an important game, and I -_think_ I understand Dick’s delivery better than the rest of you. Bert -Farnum is a tip-top hand behind the bat, I know; but--” - -Randolph hesitated as he saw Bert look down and dig his heel into the -ground, half sullenly. - -Bert was a graceful player, a strong hitter and swift thrower. His -chief trouble was uncertainty. You couldn’t depend either on his temper -or his nerve in a closely-contested game. Randolph knew this, and now -endeavored to smooth over matters by suggesting that Bert should play -centre-field at first, and come in for a change during the close of -the game, if necessary. - -Right and left-fielders were easily appointed, and the boys seized -their bats and balls for a couple of hours’ practice. - -Bert excused himself gruffly, and wandered down by the river alone. -He wanted catcher’s position for that game, and felt defrauded by his -captain. - -All the girls from the institute would be sure to come and cluster -around the in-field, while the centre-fielder would be stationed away -off by himself, with, perhaps, not a single chance to win applause. - -Bert’s father was one of the wealthiest men in town, and the boy was -used to having his own way. - -Only yesterday, a fine new catcher’s mask had come up from the city. Of -course, he had meant to lend it freely to the nine in all their games; -but now he resolved he would say nothing about it. The old mask was -nearly worn out, and, if struck at certain points, was sure to hurt the -wearer. - -If Randolph Percival was so particular about catching, he could wear -the old thing, for all Bert cared. - -Having gone so far as this, the unhappy boy suddenly hit upon another -scheme to obtain his revenge. He stopped short and scowled darkly. - -“I’ll do it,” he said to himself; then turned and walked homeward, -meditating all the way on the surest means to accomplish his purpose. - -It was no less than to bring about the defeat of his own companions. -How he succeeded will be seen. - -There were only four days before the afternoon set for the match, and -uncle Will found his young folks so full of the coming game that they -could think of nothing else. Tom, who made a lively third base, seemed -for the time to have forgotten his troubles, and entered heartily into -the sport. Dick Manning came over from the village every afternoon, and -tried his favorite “delivery” with Randolph, who practised catching -whenever he could get anybody to throw balls at him. He was continually -enticing little Bridget out to perform this duty, which she did with -such earnestness and energy that he had to fairly beg for mercy. - -[Illustration: KITTIE AT WORK.] - -It was wonderful to see how the little North Street waif expanded and -grew, mentally, physically and morally, in this pure air, and under -the gentle teaching of aunt Puss, who had received her with open -arms. The girl’s sallow cheeks grew plump and wholesome to look at; -her dull eyes brightened; she worked, or tried to, all day, and slept -soundly all night. She even learned to play a little, which was the -hardest of all. When Randolph had gravely suggested that she could -make herself useful by throwing a ball at him, out in the orchard, she -accepted the proposition in perfect good faith. - -“Sure I wull,” said Bridget, taking the ball from Randolph’s hand. - -Her throws, he found, were just wild enough to give him practice; while -their velocity left nothing to be desired. She flung the ball at him -as if she were determined to annihilate him on the spot. It was only -when he rolled over in the grass, laughing and crying for mercy, that a -bewildered smile came into her face. - -“Sure ye tould me fire hard, thin,” she said slowly, tossing back her -long hair. - -“So I did, Bridget. And if ever I get back to Boston, I’ll propose your -name as champion pitcher in the League team!” - -The little Irish girl having retired, Pet, who just then came up, -offered to take her place; but her services were gratefully declined. -Pet’s soft but erratic tosses were already only too familiar to the -boys. - -Well, the great day came at last. The wagon was filled, immediately -after dinner, and the whole party, with uncle Will at the reins, -drove over to Readville. They stationed themselves on the edge of -the base-ball grounds, where Randolph said they could obtain a good -view, and their team would not be in the way of the players. The air -was warm, but a gentle westerly breeze, mountain-cooled, prevented -discomfort from the heat. - -By two o’clock, groups of young people, in twos and threes, began to -stroll toward the Common. - -Already a number of players were on hand engaged in vigorous -practice, their jaunty uniforms showing prettily against the green, -closely-cropped ball-field. The Jamestown nine wore blue stockings and -gray suits; the “Readvilles,” white, with red stockings. - -The crowd increased. At about a quarter before three, two of the -players, one from each nine, separated at a distance from the Common, -and came to it from different directions. - -One of them was the captain of the “Jamestowns,” a rough, black-eyed -fellow, whom nobody liked, but who was a fine player. The other was -Bert Farnum. - -As the hour for the game drew near, the excitement in the Percival -wagon was at fever heat. Tom and his cousins were in the field, -practising, and the girls watched eagerly every play the two made. -Randolph wore the old mask, and worked steadily with Dick, a little to -one side. Quite a crowd of Jamestown people had come over to witness -the game and cheer for their nine, who were considerably heavier than -their opponents. The knowing ones among the spectators gave their -opinion that if the “Readvilles” were to win, they would have to do it -by spryness in the field; the “Jamestowns” would bat more effectively, -and throw well. Bert Farnum was spoken of as a splendid thrower, on -whom much depended. - -“They say that Boston fellow, Percival, is a master hand,” said one -broad-shouldered young farmer who had sauntered up within hearing of -the wagon-party. “Jest look at him now, practisin’! He ketches them -swift, twisty balls like clockwork!” - -Kitty and Bess pinched each other, and their faces glowed with pride. - -“I knew it,” whispered Kittie confidentially to Pet, “but I like to -hear somebody else say it, just the same.” - -Further conversation was suddenly hushed by a movement among the -players. Three o’clock had arrived, and in presence of the umpire the -two captains tossed up a cent. The “Readvilles” won the toss, and sent -their opponents to the bat. - -As the red-stockings walked past them into the field, the Jamestown -captain winked at Bert, who nodded slightly in return, blushing at the -same time and glancing over his shoulder to see if he was observed. - -“Low ball--play!” called the umpire. - -Dick Manning drew himself up, looking carelessly about the field; then -suddenly, with a swift movement, sent the white ball whizzing directly -over the plate, about two feet from the ground. - -“One strike!” shouted the umpire. - -The Jamestowner looked surprised, and before he had gathered himself -for the next ball it was past him again and in the hands of Randolph, -who waited till the umpire called “Strike, two!” and then ran up -behind the bat, adjusting the old mask over his face. - -The next two balls delivered were wide. The third was just right, and -the Jamestowner hit with all his force. It soared far up in the air, -toward the centre-field. - -“Bert! Bert Farnum!” cried Randolph as two or three of the fielders -started for the ball. - -Bert ran, and stretched out his hands--a little awkwardly, his friends -thought. The next moment the ball struck the ground six feet away, and -the striker was safe on second base. - -A prolonged “Oh-h-h!” came involuntarily from the crowd, and Bert -returned with a sullen air to his station, after fielding the ball. - -The Jamestowns now succeeded in getting the striker and another man -round the bases. Randolph put out the third, by running a long distance -under a foul fly, almost reaching the wagon before he secured it. - -The “Readvilles” were retired without making a run. Score, 2 to 0, in -favor of Jamestown. The girls clenched their hands in silence, while -the Jamestown people on the other side of the grounds cheered lustily. - -The game proceeded, and was contested hotly at every point. The -visitors seemed possessed with but one ambition, and that was to knock -the ball down to centre. Time and again it started in that direction, -but dropped short, or into the hands of one of the other fielders. - -At last the ninth inning was reached. The score was a tie--eight to -eight. “Jamestown” came to the bat, and two men went out in quick -succession, one on afoul fly, the other at first base. The third -striker got the ball just where he wanted it, and sent it high up in -Bert’s direction. - -Now, Bert had already begun to repent of the treacherous part he was -playing. Here was a chance to redeem himself. He made a desperate run -backward for the ball, but tripped and fell just as it was coming to -his hands. Again he heard that long note of dismay from his friends. -The sound nerved him. Leaping to his feet, he darted after the ball -like a deer, and, picking it up lightly, as it rolled, faced about. The -runner was making the round of the bases, amid the shouts and jeers of -the Jamestown people who had come over to see the game. - -Bert gathered himself for a mighty effort, and, drawing back his arm, -threw the ball with all his strength. Randolph was waiting for it -eagerly, with his foot on the home-plate. It seemed impossible that the -ball could get there in time, and the Jamestowners cheered more lustily -than ever, as the blue stockings went flying along the base-line toward -home; but still more swiftly came the ball, sent with unerring aim from -Bert’s far-away arm. - -Just a wee fraction of a second before the runner touched the plate the -ball settled into Randolph’s hands, which swung round like lightning, -and Jamestown was out--score, 8 to 8. - -On coming in with his side for their last turn at the bat, Bert found -himself all at once a hero. - -“Never was such a throw seen on the grounds!” they said; and poor Bert -hung his head, and answered not a word. - -The spectators were now fairly breathless with excitement. The score -tied, and Readville at the bat for the last time. - -Tom, whose turn it was, took his place amid encouraging shouts from his -side. After a nervous “strike,” he made a good hit that carried him -to second, where he seemed likely to be left, as the next two at the -bat struck easy flies, and went out. It was Bert’s turn. Heretofore -he had purposely struck out every time he came to the bat. Now his -hands clenched the stick firmly, and he braced his feet as if he meant -business. The crowd saw the slight movement, and cheered to encourage -him. - -“Strike one!” called the umpire, as the ball flew over the plate a -little higher than Bert wanted it. - -“Strike two!” - -Still not just right. Bert waited calmly. The crowd were silent, and -looked downcast. Suddenly they gave a wild cheer. Hats were flung into -the air, and handkerchiefs waved. Bert had made a terrific hit, sending -the ball far beyond the rightfielder. In another moment Tom had reached -home, and scored the winning run--score, Readvilles, 9; Jamestowns, 8. - -The great match was finished. - - - - -CHAPTER XII. - -HUNTED TO EARTH. - - -As soon as the excitement over the base-ball match had died away, Tom’s -moodiness returned. It was now near the end of August, and the little -party at the Pines began to show signs of breaking up. Kittie and her -sister, with Tom, were to meet their father and mother at Portland -on the twenty-fifth of the month, returning to Boston in season for -school. Randolph, too, was due in the Latin School ranks on September -fifth; Pet received a letter from her family, telling her to join them -at the mountains at about the same time. - -As the remaining days of vacation rapidly dwindled, the fun, on the -contrary, increased. Bert Farnum had a long talk with Randolph, shortly -after the match, and made a clean breast of his treachery, telling -him how he had suffered from remorse at the unmanly part he had -played in the earlier part of the great game, and how repentant he -was for the whole affair. The result of this confession was that the -two boys became firm friends, and Bert, in company with Dick Manning -and a good-natured sister Polly, often joined the Bostonians in their -mountain tramps, hay-cart rides, and other good times. - -Old Sebattis and his wife were reported as encamped near the county -road, fifteen miles away. Of course, nothing had been heard of the -watch, the secret of its whereabouts being locked in the breast of one -unhappy boy. - -One hot, sultry afternoon, when the rest had gone off to the woods on -a picnic, Tom started alone for his favorite hiding-place in the cliff -near the alder run. He walked slowly down the path, looking neither to -right nor left, and seeing nothing of the beauty of flower and bird and -tree about him. He was saying over and over to himself, “I’ll do it! I -won’t stand it any longer! I’ll do it this very afternoon!” - -He made his way across the field, down through the pasture, and along -the dry brook-channel to the drooping beech-tree. Glancing about him -carelessly, from mere habit, he swung himself up to the trunk and -clambered into the snug nook among the ferns. - -Had he, for once, scrutinized his surroundings more earnestly, and -peered around the corner of the large fallen bowlder at the foot of -the cliff, he might have seen two dark eyes fastened upon him, from -among the undergrowth. Their gaze was so full of spite and low cunning -that it would have been well for Tom had he caught a glimpse of them -and sprung away at once. But without a thought of danger, his mind -concentrated on one object alone, he reached his high perch, and seated -himself on a rock to regain his breath. - -Already his face had a better expression than it had worn for weeks. -His lips were set, as if with a firm and noble resolve; his eyes -flashed with the light that always shines full on the face that is -turned toward the Right. It was plain that Tom had made up his mind at -last, and was happier for it, whatever might be the consequences. - -After resting a few moments, he carefully removed a few odd bits of -stone and moss from the mouth of a crevice in the rock, and drew out -Pet’s watch. He at once examined it thoroughly, holding it to his ear -as he had done on a previous occasion. - -“Yes,” said he to himself, with great satisfaction, “it’s all right. -One good rub, to brighten it up, and in fifteen minutes it shall be in -uncle Will’s hands.” - -He drew a piece of flannel from his pocket, and polished the case of -the pretty little timepiece, inside and out, until it shone so that -he could see his own face reflected in the gold. Then he placed it -carefully in an inner pocket, and rising to his feet with a sigh of -relief, stepped down toward the slanting trunk of the beech, on which -he was prepared to descend, as usual. - -He had no sooner stooped for this purpose, however, when he started -back with an involuntary cry of alarm. - -About six feet below him, staring upward with a face full of malignant -cunning, was Sebattis Megone, in the very act of seizing the swaying -limbs of the tree to mount the ledge. The moment he saw that he was -detected, he released his grasp on the boughs, and stood still, looking -up at Tom with an ugly grin. - -“Ugh!” he grunted, Indian-fashion. “What boy do on rocks? What he want -in woods?” - -Tom glanced about him hastily. If the man had evil intentions, there -was no way of escape. It seemed as if he could feel the little watch -beating against his own heart. He tried to answer with an appearance of -carelessness. - -“I come here most every day and read,” he said. “It’s cool in the -woods.” - -“What climb up high for?” - -“There’s a good place here to sit down. I like to be alone, sometimes, -don’t you, Sebattis?” - -The good-will of the tone was lost on the Indian, who evidently knew -more than he cared to tell. - -“Where Gold-hair’s watch?” he asked suddenly and fiercely, to throw Tom -off his guard. - -“It was lost that day she fell into the lake.” - -“Yis. Me remember. See!” and Sebattis scowled darkly as he laid his -hand on a scar where the broken window, probably, had cut his forehead. - -“I am sorry you were hurt,” began Tom, nervously. - -“You know where watch is. Give me!” - -“Why do you think I know about it?” Tom wanted to gain time. His only -hope was that some one might stray down into the woods within reach -of his voice. As to the cliff, he knew well enough, for he had often -examined it, and even tried the feat in fun once or twice, that it -could not be scaled. From the hollow where he stood, the face of the -rock slanted outward above him, rendering escape in that direction out -of the question. - -“If you no give me, I come up and take watch--maybe hurt you!” snarled -the Indian in his guttural tones. - -“Hold on,” said poor Tom, at his wit’s end; more anxious, now, for the -safety of the watch than for himself. “It will be easier for me to come -down than for you to climb way up here.” - -“You come then--quick!” - -The man was plainly growing angry, and laid his hand on his knife as he -spoke, by way of menace. - -But Tom had no idea of coming down. Instead of that, he suddenly drew -back a step, and shouted at the top of his lungs, - -“_Help! Help! Tim, uncle Percival! Help!_” - -For a moment the Indian seemed taken aback at this unlooked-for move, -glancing fearfully over his shoulder as if he expected to hear Tim’s -sturdy footfalls. Then his rage got the better of him, and, grasping -the branches once more, he began to clamber upward. - -Fortunately, being rather stout, he could not manage the ascent quite -so nimbly as Tom. The boy, pale as death, sprang back into the furthest -corner of the cavity, intending to fight to the last, in defence of -the watch, the loss of which had brought such sorrow to Pet, and such -disgrace and unhappiness to his own summer vacation at his uncle’s. - -What would have been the result of such a struggle, I cannot tell. The -Indian was armed, and the boy would have been but a baby in his hands, -if the issue depended upon mere strength. But at this moment a strange -thing happened. - -When Tom drew back into the hollow formed by the angle of the rocks, -he crowded in among the ferns and thick moss further than he had ever -been before. As he did so, he threw one despairing look about him for a -weapon. What seemed to be a loose stone caught his eye. It was covered -with many years’ growth of lichens, but it came up easily in his hand. -As he was stooping to raise it, what was his astonishment to find -beneath it a dark opening into what appeared a sort of inner cave, the -mouth of which had been concealed by rubbish. - -With the instinct of a hunted animal, as he heard the boughs of the -beech-tree creak under the weight of his enemy, he tore aside the rocks -and moss which were easily dislodged and in a moment more he was in -the hole, pulling the largest stone within reach over the mouth of his -strange retreat as he disappeared within it. - -His first sensation was one of relief. The Indian, he knew, would -hesitate about entering a trap like this, where his unseen foe might -spring upon him from any side. Already his footsteps were heard, on the -stones above, and his short, surprised grunt when he found his victim -had sunk into the ground like a mole. He was beginning to cautiously -remove the rubbish from the opening, when Tom thought it was time to -beat a further retreat. - -At first, plunging suddenly into darkness out of the sunny afternoon, -he had been able to see nothing. Now the few rays of light that entered -enabled him to distinguish the nature of his surroundings. He found -that he was in a little rocky chamber, perhaps ten feet square and half -as many high, partly natural and partly cleared by the hand of man; -as he could tell by the regular arrangement of stones here and there. -At the further end was a blacker space than anywhere else. He moved -across the cave, and found that this was the entrance to an inner -tunnel or passage-way, apparently leading to still further recesses. -The Indian had now ceased work, and Tom felt more nervous than when he -could hear him scratching and digging at the mouth of the cave. There -seemed nothing for it but to keep on, in the black passage, where the -darkness, at least, would favor him. He had to get down on his hands -and knees, as this inner opening was less than three feet in diameter; -and in this way he crawled ahead, into the depths of the little cave. - -Up to this moment he had never stopped to reason out the possible cause -for such a queer, underground chamber. Now it suddenly flashed upon -him that it must be the secret passage-way that his uncle had told -about; for although Tom had not been in the room when Mr. Percival had -described this ancient provision for escape in case of sudden attack, -he had heard his sisters speak of it afterward. Where it came out, he -did not know; but the thought that he must be moving toward the house -gave him new courage. - -Making as little noise as possible, he crept along the passage-way, -hoping every minute that it would expand to a size sufficient to allow -of his walking erect. After a short halt for rest, he started on again, -having made such good progress that he believed he must be half-way to -the house. Two or three times he bumped his head, but he paid little -attention to bruises. So far he was safe, with the watch in his pocket, -from his ugly pursuer. - -He had not gone a dozen feet, however, when he came to a second halt, -his heart beating fast. What was the matter with the boy? With a good -chance of escape before him, and half of the tunnel passed, he ought -to have been pressing forward. But here he was, crouching almost flat -to the earth, stock still, as if afraid to advance another inch. What -could be the matter? Tom could have told you very quickly, what he had -been suspecting for the last five minutes, and what was now true beyond -a question. _The passage-way was contracting!_ Instead of growing wider -and higher it was now so small that he could barely squeeze through -on his hands and knees. Presently he lay down at full length, and -wriggled along, the perspiration pouring from every inch of his body, -the earth falling in a fine shower about his hair and neck. What if -the tunnel should come to an end? Should he remain there wedged in -this terrible place, _buried alive_? Ah, this was not all that made Tom -tremble, and urge his way still more earnestly through the narrowing -tunnel. When he had paused, a moment before, he had heard, plainly as -through a speaking-tube, a slight disturbance, a sound of scratching, -the fall of a distant rock in the passage behind him. He could not hide -from himself the meaning of those sounds. The Indian had explored the -cave, had discovered his method of escape, and was now actually in the -tunnel, in close pursuit. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII. - -FOUND AT LAST. - - -Mr. Percival had spent a busy half-day in the open air, superintending -matters on his farm. There were early potatoes to be dug, heavily -laden branches of apple and pear trees to be propped up, and a small, -low-lying piece of meadow-land to be mown. Slowly the deliberate oxen -had plodded to and fro, with the heavy cart creaking and thumping -behind them; while Tim or Ruel tramped beside, urging them on with an -occasional “Haw! Ha’ Bright! Gee! Star!” - -Mr. Percival was a good farmer, and nothing “shiftless” could be found -on his place. The barn was always fresh and sweet, fences and walls -upright; and even the pigs seemed to enjoy a clean, dry corner in their -pen where they could lie in the sunshine and grunt contentedly in their -sleep. - -In the afternoon the men had their work well laid out, and the master -retired for an hour or two, as was often his custom, to the “Den.” The -little windows, above and on the side, were wide open, the air that -floated in was cooled by the shadows of the many-elled old house. Now -and then came the faint sounds of Tim’s encouraging shout to his oxen, -a cackle or long-drawn crow from the poultry-yard, the bark of a dog, -digging at a squirrel-hole under the wall. - -Mr. Percival stretched himself out comfortably in an old cane-seat -chair, having taken from its shelf a copy of Thackeray’s “Henry -Esmond,” and began to read. As the story was perfectly familiar to him, -he opened the book in the middle, striking into the narrative where -Colonel Esmond--one of the finest gentlemen in story--went to the wars -under gallant old General Webb. - -The air was soft and warm, and the out-door rustle of wind and bough -so soothing, after the hard forenoon’s work, that Mr. Percival’s fancy -began to play him queer tricks. He thought that lovely Beatrix Esmond -was nodding and smiling to him through the little casement, and he was -about to speak to her when he returned to consciousness with a start, -laughed to himself as he saw the bit of apple-bough, with sunlight -playing on the leaves, that had tricked him; fixed his eyes on the -book again, read six lines, and went sound asleep. - -His dreams still followed the course of the book he had been reading. -He thought he was in England, and that Ruel was the exiled heir to -the throne, whom it was his business to support; but that aunt Puss -persisted in wearing diamonds at court and purring constantly (the -maltese kittens had trotted into the Den and one of them jumped into -Mr. Percival’s lap) while Ruel himself proceeded to ride about the -room on a base-ball bat, in a manner quite inconsistent with royal -dignity. Beatrix then came on the scene, but she talked with a brogue -and confided to him, Mr. Percival, that her real name was Bridget, and -that she had a yoke of oxen which were trained to gallop off with a -fire-engine at every alarm. In fact, the oxen (who had been all the -time eating hay behind Ruel’s throne) now advanced, and holding a -hose-pipe in their paws--they were now very large red cats, he noticed -carelessly--began to play on the fire. - -The curious part of it was that the hose-pipe did not play water at -all, but cannon-balls. Indeed, it was not hose, on closer view, but -cannon, which aunt Puss, commanding the English forces, was firing -against the French. - -_Boom! Boom!_ went the cannon. The noise of the conflict was terrible. -Aunt Puss stopped purring and rode off on one of the cats, which were -now oxen once more. - -_Boom! Boom! Boom!_ It fairly shook the room--no, the fort--that -is--yes--what!--could it be? Mr. Percival rubbed his eyes and sat -upright in his chair. Thackeray had dropped upon the floor; a few -gray hairs in his lap, and a fading sensation of warmth in the same -locality, betrayed the recent presence of Kittie. But-- - -_Boom! boom! boom!_ The cannonading went on! Now fairly awake, Mr. -Percival recognized the fact that there was an energetic pounding -against the floor directly beneath his feet. - -“Bless me!” exclaimed the good man aloud, jumping up and surveying the -carpet suspiciously, “what can it be?” - -The cellar, he knew, extended under the Den. That is, the base of -the old chimney had been there, and--ah! that long disused passage! -The little stone chamber under the arches, where one could stifle so -easily, the girls had thought! A muffled cry, sounding strangely like -“Help!” now accompanied the blows, which seemed lessening in force. - -Hesitating no longer, and dismissing from his mind the silly -ghost-stories that had been handed down in the family, from old times, -he knelt and tore up the strip of straw matting that covered the spot -at which the blows seemed to be directed; at the same time knocking -back, in answer. - -“It may be some of the boys’ fun,” he said to himself, “but it won’t do -to run any risks.” - -The straw matting being removed, there appeared a square, dimly marked -out in the flooring, by the edges of boards which had apparently been -let in, long after the neighboring portions. - -“The old trap-door!” - -Mr. Percival recognized the place instantly; at the same time he was -puzzled to know how to act. For the door had long ago been removed, and -these short sections of planks nailed down in its place. - -“Hold on!” he shouted. “I’ll be back in a minute!” - -Very nimbly, for a man of his years, he hurried out of the room, and -presently returned with tools--an axe, a large, heavy chisel, a saw, -and a kind of sharp-pointed hammer, like an ice-pick. With the aid of -these, he soon had the end of one board, then another, pried up. It -must be confessed that he was startled by the apparition that emerged -from the opening thus effected. Could that be Tom! A face, deadly -white, but streaked with perspiration and dust, and bleeding from a -bruise on the forehead; clothes, hands, every part of him, covered with -dirt; eyes half-blinded by the sudden light, form trembling from head -to foot; it was altogether a strange figure to come up through uncle -Will’s floor--but Tom it was, beyond a doubt. - -“O uncle Will,” he sobbed brokenly, the tears running over his -mud-stained cheeks, “I’m so sorry. Here’s the watch!” - -And to Mr. Percival’s utter bewilderment, the boy laid Pet’s little -watch in his hands, safe and whole. - - * * * * * - -It was a long story, but Tom managed to tell it. At the very first, -he spoke with a shudder of the Indian, and Mr. Percival despatched -Ruel and Tim to the woods, rightly judging that the pursuit of Tom -had ceased. The men returned within a few minutes and reported that -Sebattis had been seen limping away toward the road, covered with mud. -He had turned and shaken his fist at them, but on the whole seemed more -frightened than angry, and mainly anxious to get as far away from the -farm as possible. - -“And now about the watch,” said Mr. Percival gravely, but kindly, as -soon as the farm-hands had left the room. - -Tom hung his head still lower, but launched manfully into his -confession. - -“I took it out of Pet’s pocket for fun,” he said, “very soon after -we started on our walk, that morning. Then I tucked it into Kitty’s -sacque, with the chain hanging out.” - -“Where Moll saw it!” exclaimed Mr. Percival, a light breaking in on him. - -“Yes, sir, I suppose so. After that, we came to the Indians, and Pet -fell into the pond, and I forgot all about it. Just as I was going to -bed, I heard the girls say something about a watch being lost, and it -came to me that it was my fault. I felt awfully about it that night, -and hardly slept a bit. Next morning I tried to get a chance to tell -you about it--do you remember, sir? but you were busy; and instead -of _making_ you hear, or owning up at once, about my carelessness and -foolish trick, I thought I would put it off; perhaps the watch would be -found; perhaps the Indians took it, after all.” - -“But why didn’t you tell me frankly, that afternoon, my boy?” - -“I was ashamed to; and after the trial, it was all the harder. Then--I -found the watch! It was tucked into an old stump, near the spot where -the Indian babies, the little pappooses, had been playing. I suppose -one of them had picked it up and hidden it there. - -“Now was the time, I know, sir, when I ought to have told. But every -minute made it harder. I was afraid Randolph would be ashamed of me, -and the girls wouldn’t like me, and you would be angry for all the -trouble I had made, and the expense of the sheriffs and everything. -Besides,” continued the boy eagerly, “really and truly, sir, I did -mean, every day, to give the watch back--every day. But--somehow--it -grew harder and harder, and I didn’t. It began to seem now as if I had -stolen it!” - -It was a poor, miserable story of a weak boy’s foolishness; for Tom -was weak, and cowardly, too. A little manliness at the start would have -prevented all the shame and wretchedness. - -Don’t you see how he could do it? Do you wonder how he could wish to -keep the secret, for such silly reasons? - -Stop a moment. Are you quite sure that you yourself would have done -differently? Have you not, even now, some little uncomfortable secret -hidden in your heart, that you had rather father or mother would not -know? If you have, let me beg you to turn down a leaf, or put in a -book-mark, at this very page, and go this moment to those dear hearts -who are so ready to hear everything and forgive everything with that -wonderful love of theirs which is most of anything on earth, like the -love of our Father above. - -Tom kept nothing back, but related all his faults, his concealments, -his misgivings. At length his narrative reached the point at which we -stopped in the last chapter, where he felt the passage narrowing, and -the Indian following behind. - -“I made one more push,” he said, “and this time wasn’t I glad to find -that the tunnel was just a little larger? It was like an hour-glass; -and I had passed the narrowest part, in the middle! As soon as I was -sure of this, I felt about for some means to block the passage of the -Indian. I dug with all my might into the earth, and pretty soon struck -a good-sized rock. This almost filled the space, and, with the loose -dirt around it, I hoped would discourage Sebattis--as I guess it did. - -“I struck my forehead on a sharp stone and made it bleed, though I -didn’t know that till just now. At the end of the tunnel was a little -stone chamber and a half a dozen wooden steps leading up to the floor. -These were so old that they crumbled when I stepped on them; but I -managed to climb up on the side wall, and strike with a rock on the -boards overhead. I was afraid every moment that the Indian might be -upon me, and oh! I was so glad when I heard your voice!” - -What further words passed between the repentant boy and his uncle, Tom -never told. An hour later he came out of the Den, walked up to Pet -(who had returned from her ride) with a white face but firm step, and -placing the watch and chain in her hands, said, with trembling lips, - -“I took it for fun, Pet, and was ashamed to tell--” - -He could get no further, and Pet, after one glance at his face, forgave -him on the spot. Nor did she ever ask him a single question about her -lost watch. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV. - -QUIET DAYS AT THE PINES. - - -Who can describe the long, peaceful days of early autumn in the -country? To our boys and girls at uncle Will’s, the hours were full -of delight, though there were no more hair-breadth escapes, and no -fatiguing expeditions undertaken. - -On the day after Tom’s adventure with the Indian, Mr. Percival visited -the old ledge with his men, and placing a charge of blasting powder in -the mouth of the cave, tumbled the overhanging rocks together in such -a way that the passage was closed forever. The boy slowly regained his -cheerfulness, and, rather shyly, took part in the pleasuring of the -rest. - -Only two days now remained before the party was to break up. - -There was little time for story-telling, for the girls were busy, -packing various collections of ferns, moss, and other memorials of -their good times in field and forest; and their kind host was occupied -from morning till night, in overseeing the fall work on the farm. - -One evening, however, as they were sitting under one of the aged elms, -near the house, the conversation turned upon mountains and mountain -climbing. - -“Did you and that boy--wasn’t his name Fred?--ever have any more -adventures together?” asked Pet. - -“Oh, yes, a good many, my dear. If you’re not too sleepy, I can tell -you about a bit of a dangerous climb I once had myself, when we two -were abroad together.” - -The moonlight rested softly on the little circle, and on uncle Will’s -face, as he talked. Pet put her hand in his, and begged him to go on. -It was their last story for the summer. - -“We were both pretty well tired out, one July evening when we reached -Chamounix. Fred could bear mountain-climbing, and, what was worse, -mule-back riding, much better than I, so that, while I was glad to find -my way to my room, in the top of the queer old hotel, at an early hour -in the evening, Fred remained in the parlor, busily studying up maps -and guides for an excursion over the Mer de Glace to the ‘Garden,’ a -small, fertile spot, surrounded by eternal ice, in the very heart of -the mountains. - -[Illustration: QUIET MOMENTS.] - -“Next morning, he was off at four o’clock, leaving me to spend the day -quietly in the valley. I was disturbed but once more before rising; -this time by a herd of goats, who scrambled along under my windows, -with bells tingling merrily enough. - -“In the course of the forenoon, I strolled away, book in hand, -following the course of the Arve for a little while, and then striking -off at right angles, up the banks of a small brook, which joins the -larger stream just above the village. - -“The air was soft and sweet with summer sunlight and the breath of the -silent forests, reaching from my feet, higher and higher, until the -front rank looked on those desolate, glittering fields of snow that -crown Mount Blanc. - -“Beside the brook the velvety turf was dotted with wild forget-me-nots -and pansies, growing there as peacefully as if they were not in the -very track of last year’s avalanche. - -“At length I came to a spot where the brook had in ages past strewn -its own path with fragments of huge rocks, which it had loosened and -thrown down from some far-off height, where the foot of man never trod. - -“One gigantic bowlder lay completely across the original bed of the -stream, and rose like a wall beside the water, that turned out of its -way, and ran off with a good-natured laugh. - -“The sun here lay warm and bright, just counteracting the chill breeze -that came from the glaciers through the narrow gorge. I gathered a few -dry sticks, kindled a fire, merely for company, and nestled comfortably -down into an easy corner to read the rocks, the brook, the sky, and, -if there were time left, my book, which, if I remember rightly, was -‘Redgauntlet.’ - -“How long I sat there I cannot tell. It must have been two or three -hours, for it was past noon when I looked at my watch, threw the -smouldering firebrands into the brook, and rose to return to the hotel. - -“As I did so, I noticed half a dozen footsteps in the steep, sandy bank -that formed the side of the ravine at this point. It suddenly occurred -to me that I had read in my guide-book, while I was sitting in my -own room, six months before, of a certain waterfall, which, from the -description, must surely be on this brook. Yes, I recollected the base -of the zig-zag path, that we had seen as we rode along the valley, on -our way from Tête Noire, late the preceding afternoon. - -“I was feeling much refreshed and rested by my siesta, and, by a short -cut up over this embankment, I could doubtless strike that path after a -three minutes’ scramble, as some one had evidently done before me. - -“So I would have a little adventure, and see one of the sights of -Chamounix all by myself. - -“Certainly there was nothing rash in this resolve, or formidable in the -undertaking; though a certain feebleness resulting from a recent ill -turn at Geneva should have warned me against tasking my strength too -severely. - -“At any rate, at it I went, laughing at the easiness of the ascent as -I followed the broad footsteps of my predecessor. My calculation was -that I should come out on the path at a point about seventy-five to one -hundred feet above my starting-place. - -“Before I had proceeded far, however, the convenient tracks abruptly -ceased. Beyond, and on each side, there was nothing but the gravelly -bank, with here and there a big rock ready to drop at the lightest -touch. - -“Plainly enough, the first climber had become discouraged at this -point, and had picked his way to the bottom again. As I looked back -I was startled to observe the elevation which I had reached, and I -involuntarily crouched closer to the earth, with a sensation as of -tipping over backwards. - -“The movement, slight as it was, dislodged a clump of stones and sand, -which went rolling and plunging down at a great rate to the brook, the -sound of whose waters was now hardly audible. No wonder the man had -given it up! Should I go on, or literally back down, as he had done? - -“My pluck was stirred, and although I heartily wished Fred was on hand -with his sympathetic courage, I resolved to complete what I had begun. - -“It was tough work. Hands and knees now--and carefully placed every -time, at that. Once I nearly lost my balance by the unexpected yielding -of a large stone, which gave way under my foot. How fearfully long -it was before I heard it smite on the bowlders below! I knew if I -slipped, or missed one step, the impetus of a yard would send me after -the stone. As I looked over my shoulder, it seemed like clinging to the -slope of a cathedral roof, where a puff of wind might be fatal. - -“There was no question now as to the course I must take. It was -‘Excelsior’ in sober earnest--only I didn’t have the inspiration of a -maiden, with a tear in her bright blue eye, looking on. - -“Steeper and steeper! I was panting heavily in the rarified atmosphere, -and trembling from exhaustion. It was so terribly lonely. Nothing but -the dark forms of the trees, the waste of ice and snow, and now and -then a bird, winging its way silently over the gulf, until my brain -whirled as I watched its slow flight. - -“By to-morrow they would miss me, and organize a search, with Fred at -their head. They would find my footprints beside the brook, where I -had leaped carelessly across after pansies; then they would come upon -the blackened traces of the little fire, and the loosened gravel of -the steep bank; they would look upward with a shudder, and search the -harder. Pretty soon one of them would lean over a crevice among the -bowlders, shrink back with a cry of horror, and beckon to the others. -All this if I failed by one step! - -“Still I worked on laboriously, often pausing for giddiness or a want -of breath, and digging with my finger-nails little hollows in the hard -bank for my feet. - -“Once or twice a long, tough root of grass saved me; and soon, to -my joy, straggling bushes, strong enough to support a few pounds of -weight, thrust their tops through the sand-bed. - -“Then came scrubby trees, cedar and fir, oftentimes growing straight -out from a vertical face of rock, and quivering from root to tip as I -drew myself cautiously up. - -“I shall never forget the agony of the moment when one of them came out -entirely, and let me fall backward. Fortunately its comrades were near -enough to save me, though it was with rough hands. - -“To shorten the story, I climbed at last out upon a small, level spot, -which proved to be the longed-for path. - -“Following it painfully up for a few rods, I reached a little hut, -where I found a kind old Frenchwoman, who refreshed me with food and -drink, helped me to make my tattered clothes presentable, and held up -her hands after the demonstrative fashion of her nation, when she heard -of my climb. - -“‘Had any one ever ascended to the cataract upon that side?’” I asked. - -“‘_Jamais, monsieur; jamais, jamais!_’” (Never, monsieur; never, never.) - -“And could she tell me the height from the valley?” - -“_Mille pieds._” - -“A thousand feet! Well, I had had mountain-climbing enough for one -day, and after a visit to the Cascade, which was close by, I hobbled -down the easy path and back to the hotel, to read ‘Redgauntlet,’ until -bedtime. - -“When Fred got back, and heard the story, his eyes were round enough, -as he declared he would not leave me behind again, to play invalid, -until we came in sight of the wharf in East Boston. And he kept his -promise.” - - - - -CHAPTER XV. - -GOOD-BYE! - - -The morning of the last day at The Pines was full of sunshine. Ruel’s -voice was heard, as early as five o’clock, out by the barn. The young -folks, by a preconcerted plan, all rose at sunrise, in order to make as -long a day as possible, and joined the men, who were milking. - -“Well, well,” said Ruel, looking up from his foaming pail, into which -the white streams were drumming merrily, “you _hev_ got up with the -birds this time, sartin!” - -“We didn’t want to lose a minute,” answered Kittie rather sadly. “O -Ruel, I wish we could stay till winter!” - -“’Twouldn’t do,” replied the other, shaking his head. “Thar’s plenty to -do in the city, an’ everybody has his place. Sometimes I’ve wished--” -but Ruel did not say what he had wished. - -“Ruel,” said Bess, after a moment’s silence, “why couldn’t you come to -Boston in the winter and work. Surely you could earn more money there?” - -Ruel shook his head again, more soberly than before. - -“My place is here with your uncle,” he replied. “I was born and brought -up in these parts. I’m at home in the woods, an’ I couldn’t bear to -walk raound on bricks an’ stones. No, here I be, an’ here I must stay.” - -“But wouldn’t you like to spend a month in the city? You said the other -day you had never been there.” - -The old trapper seemed at a loss for words, but presently answered: “I -can’t jest tell ye haow I feel abaout it, Bess, but somehaow I sh’d -feel shet in, and kept away from the blue sky. What with lookin’ aout -fer teams an’ horses an’ folks, an’ seem’ all sorts o’ strange sights, -an’ p’raps thinkin’ o’ makin’ money--why, I’m afeerd I shouldn’t feel -so much of a man. In the woods it’s all so still that I can almost hear -the trees a-growin’. Then a bird flies through the baoughs overhead, -an’ I look up an’ see all the firs with their leetle crosses, and the -pines pointin’ up, an’ so I keep lookin’ higher, an’ thar’s the blue, -an’ the clouds, an’ I remember who’s up thar, an’ who made woods an’ -birds an’ all!” - -The little company of daintily dressed boys and girls felt awed into -silence as they listened to this outburst from the rough preacher, -sitting on a milking-stool, and never forgetting his work, as he -talked. It was a sermon they would remember long after the old barn and -The Pines and Ruel himself were hundreds of miles away. - -“What hev ye planned fer to-day?” said Ruel in his ordinary, quiet -tones, breaking the silence that had followed his earnest words. - -“O, there’s a lot of packing. The ‘silver rags’ are to be tied up, to -take home. And we’re going to every spot on the farm where we’ve had -good times this lovely summer!” - -“I was thinkin’ that p’raps you might like to wind up with a little -fishin’ trip this afternoon.” - -“O good! Where shall we go?” - -“Right daown by where we were cuttin’ wood last -winter--remember?--thar’s a little brook that always has plenty of -trout in it.” - -“That’s first-rate!” exclaimed Randolph. “The girls can take a -lunch--just a small one, without much fuss--and Tom and I will furnish -a string of trout.” - -“They’re awful little,” added Ruel, “but they’re sweet’s nuts. You can -ketch a dozen in fifteen minutes.” - -The boys had been fishing several times during their vacation, but had -never taken the girls along. - -The forenoon was full of both duty and play. Trunks were filled to -the brim and sat upon; great bundles of birch bark were tied up and -labeled. All the cattle received toothsome bits of their favorite -varieties of food, and were bidden goodbye, with strokings and -pattings, all of which they received with abundance of patience and -long sighs. - -Meanwhile aunt Puss busied herself in preparing an appetizing little -lunch for the last picnic, and for the morrow’s journey. All the men -were hard at work in the potato patch and the orchard. At about three -o’clock Ruel threw down his hoe and informed the boys, with one of his -quiet laughs, that Mr. Percival had given him a half-day vacation. - -“Get your party together,” said he, “and meet me in fifteen minutes out -here by the pasture bars. I’ll have the bait ready. You can bring the -poles you used last Monday.” - -With baskets for lunch and for final collections of fresh ferns, the -girls joined the rest, and all started down the long pasture lane -through which they had watched the cattle wandering slowly homeward -so many times during the past weeks. By special invitation the little -Irish girl was included in the party, much to her delight. - -In a few minutes they were in the shade of the forest. The pines -whispered softly to them, and the birches, in the little clearings here -and there, fluttered their dainty leaves in the sunlight overhead. No -one felt much like talking and almost the only sound was the occasional -call of a thrush or the piping of a locust in the tree-tops. At length -the brook was reached. The boys rigged their fishing tackle and were -soon busily creeping down the banks of the little stream, uttering an -exclamation now and then, as they captured or lost a lively trout. - -The girls threw themselves down on a mossy bank, close beside a tiny -spring which Ruel pointed out. There were fir-trees intermingled with -the pines and hemlocks around it; and on its brink a fringe of ferns -bent over the clear water. Randolph had known of the place before, but -his cousins had never found it. - -When the fishermen came back, they found lunch spread upon napkins, and -awaiting only the trout. These Ruel took in hand, dressing and broiling -them with the deftness of an old camper. Sheets of birch bark served -for plates, and the boys whittled out knives and forks from the twigs -of the same tree. Bridget, whose first camping experience it was, sat -motionless, in a state of stupefied wonder and delight. - -“Now, sir,” said Pet, addressing Randolph, “we need one thing more. As -it’s a farewell meeting, we ought to have a poem, an original poem.” - -“O, his brother--” exclaimed Kittie. - -“No,” said Pet decisively, “that won’t do. We’ll give you just twenty -minutes to write one, Randolph. If your brother can do it, of course -you can. One, two, three, begin!” - -Fortunately for the boy, who was extremely confused by the sudden -request and the six bright eyes bent upon him, he had been in the habit -of scribbling in a note book such bits of verse as occurred to him when -he was by himself; and this very spring had suggested itself as a -pretty subject for a poem. When the time was up, accordingly, he came -forward with the following, handing it with a low bow to Miss Pet, who -read it aloud: - - -DOLLIE’S SPRING. - - Deep within a mountain forest - Breezes soft are whispering - Through the dark-robed firs and hemlocks, - Over Dollie’s Spring. - - Swiftly glides the tiny streamlet, - While its laughing waters sing - Sweetest song in all the woodland-- - “I--am--Dollie’s Spring!” - - Round about, fleet-footed sunbeams, - In a golden, fairy ring - Dancing, scatter brightness o’er it, - Pretty Dollie’s Spring! - - In the dim wood’s noontide shadow - Nod the ferns and glistening - With a thousand diamond dew-drops - Bend o’er Dollie’s Spring. - - Shyly, on its mossy border, - Blue-eyed Dollie, lingering, - Views the sweet face in the crystal - Depths of Dollie’s Spring. - - Years shall come and go, and surely - To the little maiden bring - Trials sore and joys uncounted, - While, by Dollie’s Spring, - - Still the firs shall lift their crosses - Heavenward, softly murmuring - Prayers for her, where’er she wanders-- - Far from Dollie’s Spring. - -“Oh, oh, oh!” cried Kittie and Bess together, as Pet concluded, “who -is Dollie? which one of us is Dollie?” But Randolph only laughed and -wouldn’t tell. - -With their gay spirits fully restored--for it is as hard for boys and -girls to keep solemn as for squirrels to keep from climbing--they -told stories, laughed, talked, and raced, all the way home. Supper -over, the evening passed swiftly, and bidding uncle Will and aunt Puss -good-night, they trooped off to their rooms for the last time. Tom and -Randolph were soon asleep, but the girls, I suspect, stayed awake for a -good while, talking over the long, sweet summer days that were ended. -At last brown eyes and blue were closed. High above, out of all reach -of night, but shining down lovingly into it, the stars kept watch over -the old farm-house; and He who neither slumbers nor sleeps, held the -weary child-world in His arms. - - * * * * * - -Did our young friends return home safely? Did they see much of each -other that winter in Boston? Was Randolph successful in school; and how -did they all pass Christmas? There is no room here for answering so -many questions; but you can find out all about them in the next number -of this series, - - “THE NORTHERN CROSS.” - - - - -TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES: - - - Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_. - - Obvious typographical errors have been corrected. - - Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized. - - Archaic or alternate spelling has been retained from the original. - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SILVER RAGS *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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