CHAPTER IIITHE CHASE
AT last through the trees, appeared the yellow ends of hewn logs attesting to their newness, and a sudden turn into the clearing brought the house into view. It was a roomy affair and much better than the pioneer dwellings of former days. The main room below was supplemented by a lean-to which was divided; while the loft overhead gave ample accommodation for sleeping arrangements and could be partitioned off if necessary. Alison’s eyes were scanning the new house eagerly, but Christine gazed in the direction of the little old cabin which had done service for John and Stephen, and which she knew Stephen still occupied. No smoke came from its chimney, and there was no sign of life anywhere. Christine looked at her brother wistfully. “Where do you suppose Steve is?” she asked faintly.
“Like as not he didn’t look for us just yet or he would have been on hand,” John hastened to say. “I shouldn’t wonder if he had gone to some of the neighbors. Got lonely, I reckon. Come to think of it, that’s just what he has done. He could ride over here every day and look after things and go back again. Isuppose that accounts for Hero’s appearance; he got loose and made tracks for his own stable. Neal and I will go and hunt up Steve and give him a surprise.” After having given orders for the unloading of the goods he nodded to Neal, and the two galloped in the direction of the silent little cabin, while the wagons were stopped at the larger house.
The fact that Stephen’s presence was lacking did not prevent Alison from taking a keen interest in the moment of arrival, whatever may have been her sister’s sensations, and it was Alison who was the first to spring lightly down from the wagon and to enter the house. She ran from room to room, then gave a ready hand to the carrying in of the lighter articles, chatting all the while. “Home at last, Tina. Louisa, do help me with this basket; I am sure it has some breakables in it,” and so the removing went on till the main room was full of pieces of furniture, with the boxes, bags and barrels which were set there ready to unpack.
Meanwhile John and Neal had returned from their tour of investigation. “Not a sign of Steve and not a horse on the place,” they reported. “It looks like horse thieves had been about,” said Neal to the other men, “whether Injuns or no we ain’t able to tell, but we lay out to chase after them and I reckon you boys don’t want to miss the fun.”
“Who’s to stay with the gals?” asked one, turning to John.
“I hadn’t thought about that part of it,” he acknowledged.
“I suppose bein’ new to the country they’d be skeered to death to be left alone, and it mightn’t be safe nuther,” said the other.
“They ain’t no war and the Injuns is quiet, if they will steal hosses,” said Ira Korner, unwilling to give up the prospect of the chase.
“That’s so,” returned John. “Suppose we get old Pedro and his Greasers to stay till we get back. He’s a reliable old soul and as good-hearted a yellow-faced, skin-dried old Mexican as I ever met. Feed the men up well and give them nothing to do and they’ll be willing to camp out here for a week.” They hunted up the girls and made the proposition to them.
“I don’t see why we need any one,” said Alison. “You will be back before night, you say, and I should think three women were as good as one man, and not one of you would hesitate to stay here alone.”
“I should think if we three girls can’t look out for ourselves for a few hours we must be poor shakes,” put in Louisa.
“Go, John. Do go. We shall not mind. I am sure Pedro will be an excellent protector,” was Christine’s comment. And so, after a conference with the Mexicans, John and Neal, in company with Ira Korner and Reub Blakely, started off, leaving the girls looking after them. The old Mexican grinnedsociably at his charges and in slow halting speech tried to talk to them. “No is to distress the self, the yong lade. Is to return ver soon. Is wish me to make a useful at time all is depart,” he said.
Christine, in whose eyes the tears were standing, turned to Alison who stood by smiling broadly. “Can you make out what he is trying to say?” she asked.
“Why yes, I think I know what he means. We are not to distress ourselves. They will be back soon and then it will be all right. In the meantime he will make himself useful.”
“You are cleverer at translating than I am,” acknowledged Christine. “I wish they did not need to go.”
“The best thing for us to do is to get to work,” said Alison. “The time will pass much more quickly if we do. There is no use in our sitting still and moping. Besides we want to make the place comfortable as soon as possible.”
“But if I only knew what had become of Steve,” said Christine wofully. “Suppose the Indians should have captured him. Suppose they should be torturing him.”
“Nonsense,” said Louisa briskly. “I don’t believe a word of that. You heard Mr. John say that he had probably gone to a neighbor’s and they’ll easy find him. Don’t get yourself all worked up, Miss Tina. It ain’t as if it were Mr. John, your own brother.”
Christine gave her a look which a less simple girl would have understood, but Louisa, blissfully unconscious of the reason for these terrors, went on unpacking and felt that the last word had been spoken upon the subject.
Christine went on murmuringly: “And I was so happy this morning and thought he would be here to meet us.”
This time it was Alison who listened to her plaint, and who began to have a dawning idea that this was a real grief to her sister. “Why, Tina,” she said with some show of indignation, “I believe you are in love with Steve Hayward.”
CHRISTINE DROPPED HER HEAD ON THE TABLE AND BURST INTO TEARS“CHRISTINE DROPPED HER HEAD ON THE TABLE AND BURST INTO TEARS.”
“CHRISTINE DROPPED HER HEAD ON THE TABLE AND BURST INTO TEARS.”
“CHRISTINE DROPPED HER HEAD ON THE TABLE AND BURST INTO TEARS.”
At this charge Christine dropped her head on the table and burst into tears, to Louisa’s astonishment and Alison’s distress. “Why, Tina, why, Tina,” said the latter kneeling down by her side. “I didn’t mean to make you cry. I didn’t know you cared, though I might have suspected. Don’t cry, Tina dear.” She murmured her words caressingly and the little Mexican, standing by with his head to one side, assumed an expression of interest and sympathy.
“Pobrecita,” he said. “Mientras mas alto es al monte mas profundio es el valle.” Then shaking his head he tried to say in English, “More high is the hill; more low is the val. The sister is so high as the hill and now she make the tear.” He wiped his eye in such a mockingly funny way that Alison had tolaugh in spite of herself, and realizing that the old man understood English better than he spoke it Christine restrained herself from further exhibition of feeling and set to work with the rest.
By nightfall the place began to look quite habitable. Pedro and his men had worked with a will, Christine’s tears and Alison’s smiles having been strong factors in urging on their efforts. As dusk approached the wagoners retired, old Pedro alone remaining indoors. The cows came lowing home, the chickens gathered about the hen-house; it was the hour which most strongly carried back the thoughts of the girls to the home they had so lately left. Even Louisa gave a little sigh and said: “That red cow reminds me of Mis’ Brown’s Cherry. I wonder how they’re gittin’ along.”
“I think I should like to feed the chickens myself,” said Alison. “It seems kind of homelike to have something like that to do.”
“And I reckon I may as well do the milking; it will get my hand in,” returned Louisa.
But Pedro had forestalled her in this occupation and was bringing in the brimming buckets as she went into the kitchen. Alison, however, went out and made friends with the chickens and stopped to speak to Steve’s horse which was safe in the stable. Here, to her surprise, she found Christine who had stolen out to comfort herself with ministering to theone thing which was very near and dear to Stephen. Hero had responded cordially to her advancements and was rubbing his handsome head against the girl’s shoulder and nickering softly, as she fed him with apples and talked to him caressingly. Alison backed out of the stable without being observed by her sister and hurried back to the house to help Louisa with the supper.
The men, bivouacked a little distance away, near the wagons, were feasting on the viands with which they had been generously supplied, and were making merry. The girls had not stopped to prepare a meal earlier in the day, but now Alison insisted that they should make a feast in the new home, for, tired though she was, she told Louisa that when the men returned they would probably be more tired still. “And nothing rests one like a good meal,” she remarked.
Louisa was in her element. She had already stowed away the stores, and though books occupied one half the potato bin and fine china stood side by side with wooden platters, she knew where everything was and was ready to produce any article asked for. Soon the fragrance of coffee filled the big room and from the kitchen came the sound of sizzling ham and the odor of browning biscuits. “Just you set still and rest,” said Louisa to the others. “I came here to earn my keep and I mean to do it. You two ain’t used to running your legs off, and you’re all tuckered out whileI’m as fresh as a lark. I ain’t lived with Mis’ Brown all these years without getting pretty strong in the muscles. I reckon I’d better cook a-plenty, for there’s no telling when them men will be coming along and they’ll be mortal hungry.”
Such a cheerful possibility had a good effect upon Christine, and as for Alison she would hear nothing but that the entire company, Steve included, would be with them before the meal was ready. “I shall set the table for eight,” she said, “and I mean to put on all our best dishes and things, for this is our house-warming.” Pedro had started a fire in the big fireplace, for the October night was chill, and so industrious had all been that the room presented a very cozy and lived-in appearance. Christine, who had taken her place at the window, was anxiously peering out into the gathering gloom. Presently she started and called out: “Alison, Alison, come here.” Her sister obeyed the summons. “What is that over there?” said Christine eagerly. “Does it seem to you that some one is coming? or is it only the waving branches of a tree? I have looked so long I cannot tell. See if you can make it out.”
Alison bent her eyes in the direction her sister indicated. “It is—one—two—three—— Oh, Christine, they are coming.”
“Are you sure?”
“I am sure.”
“You don’t think it could be Indians?”
Alison laughed. “You are so full of notions you will say next that they are Esquimaux or something equally absurd. Of course it is not Indians. I can see their hats and, unless I am much mistaken, they are John and the rest.” Christine clasped and unclasped her hands in an agony of agitation while Alison ran to the door and called: “Pedro, Pedro, they are coming.”
The old man abandoned his companions and came running. He and Alison had struck up quite a friendship. He had a daughter her own age, he had told her. She was his youngest and his treasure, Alison had discovered, and had won the old man’s heart by the interest she displayed in this Mexican maid. He joined her now by the door and assured her that she was right in her conjectures. “I am sure it is Mr. Jordan riding ahead,” Alison called in to her sister. “There are five of them, I verily believe. I can see them quite easily now. What did I tell you when I set the table?”
Nearer and nearer the horsemen galloped. Now they had passed Steve’s cabin, now they were at the gate and came clattering towards the house at full tilt. Alison fairly danced up and down with excitement. This was something like. Adventure to start with and no dull hours to drone away that evening.
John was the first to alight and Neal followed him.Christine watched breathlessly as one after another emerged from the dimness and stepped into the full light of the room. After John and Neal came Ira Korner, then Reuben Blakely; the fifth man was a stranger. Christine went swiftly up to her brother. “Where is he?” she asked. “Why didn’t you bring him?”
John looked down at her and patted her shoulder in awkward confusion. “Well, the fact is, we didn’t find Steve,” he said, “and we have about concluded that he went off hunting, lost his horse and is footing it back. He’ll likely get along between this and to-morrow night. We’ve about made up our minds that while he was away some pesky redskins, who had been watching their chance, sneaked in and got the horses. We made out by the tracks that it is just about that way. We followed up the thing as far as it seemed any use and then we passed on the word. Pike Toles is going to take a squint at the tracks beyond his place and maybe we can get wind of something. That’s why we brought Pike along. I wouldn’t worry, Tina. Steve’ll be tramping in first thing you know.”
At this report Christine looked so woebegone that Alison flounced out of the room to give vent to her feelings in the kitchen. “The idea of Christine’s looking as if she had lost her last friend. Suppose Steve hasn’t come, that’s no reason why she should be goingabout looking like a dying calf. I’d be ashamed to let any one know I cared. Big sisters are such sillies sometimes. You can be mighty sure I’d never do that way.”
Louisa laughed. “Just wait till your time comes,” she said, as she began to busy herself in dishing up the supper. All this excitement was having its effect upon her and her head was jerking more than usual, though this did not interfere with her activity, and by the time the horses were put up the supper was on the table.
Neal Jordan looked at the well-served fare and remarked as he took his place: “Reminds me of home, boys. I’ve not seen such a lay-out since I came down here.”
“Looks like somebody here’s a mighty good cook,” remarked Ira Korner, surveying the smoking, light biscuits.
“That coffee smells as good as a weddin’,” said Reub Blakely.
“Speakin’ of weddin’s,” began Ira, looking towards Christine.
“But we’re not speaking of weddings and we don’t want to,” Alison interrupted him by saying. “What we want to speak about is where you have been all day and what your adventures were.”
“Give us leave to eat our supper first,” returned Ira. “I tell you when a fellow gits grub like this hewants to give his whole attention to it without side-tracking onto a narrative. Just you let us get outside that ham and coffee and a pile or so o’ them biscuits and we’ll talk to ye.”
Just then Louisa skurried off saying, “I guess I’ll lose my head next. I clean forgot that honey Pedro got for us. I ain’t got the best head in the world, for I’ve most jerked it off already.”
Ira observed her gravely. Any one who could make such biscuits and coffee appealed to his tenderest sensibilities. “What’s the young lady’s name?” he whispered audibly to Alison by whose side he sat. “I didn’t catch her cognomen, as Pike likes to call it.”
“Her name is Sparks, Louisa Sparks,” Alison told him.
Ira nodded in answer. His eyes followed Louisa when she went from the room to replenish the supplies and when he had finished his thirteenth biscuit he looked across the table and said: “Any kin o’ old Cy Sparks? Old man with a red head, he is.”
Louisa looked up surprised. “Why, my father’s name was Cyrus, but he’s been dead these fifteen years.”
“That so? Orphin?”
“Yes, I lost my mother when I was eight and I was fetched up by Mis’ Brown, aunt o’ Mr. John’s.”
“Humph!” Ira returned to an appreciation of his biscuits and honey.
“Queer there should be another Cyrus Sparks down here in Texas,” said Louisa breaking the silence, for all the men were eating steadily, solemnly and ravenously.
“’Tis queer,” returned Ira. “Old Cy don’t live so terrible far from here. He’s a mean old cuss, though, and I reckon you kin thank your stars that you don’t need to call him pop. No, thank you, miss, I’m sorry to say that I’ve reached my limit. Jerusalem, but I’ve eat hearty!”
Christine had scarcely tasted her supper, but gave her attention to the hungry men. Alison was eagerly alert, her bright little face framed by its bands of fair hair was turned interestedly from one to another. “I think it is time that you told us where you have been all these hours,” she said, her curiosity refusing to be satisfied. “Out with your story, Mr. Jordan.”
“Pretty tame sort of story, isn’t it, boys?” he began. “If we had come back without our scalps it might have been interesting, though we wouldn’t have looked as pretty.”
“And if we’d have left our hides with a lot of bullet holes in ’em we’d have missed one good supper,” remarked Ira. “I reckon it’s a good thing we didn’t come to closter quarters with the redskins. I ain’t to say skeered of ’em, though I’m blest if I wouldn’t rather die in a good rational fight with the boys all yellin’ around me than be kilt by some sneakin’ varmintketchin’ you unawares when you’re out alone. I must say I don’t ache to play cock-robin and git kilt by a bow and arrer neither. I reckin I’m a sort of skeery fellow.”
A roar of laughter went up at this. “It don’t seem to keep you much at home,” said Neal.
“Well, no, it don’t. I hev to hev my constitutional every day or I git sick. I ain’t sayin’ I’d set at home alone like a toad ketchin’ flies rather’n go out by my lone. I ain’t such a drivelin’ pasty-faced baby as thet. I’m only expressin’ my druthers and a-sayin’ that we were lucky to git back to supper. When I ponder on these here wittles, I tell you, Miss Sparks, I wisht I was twins, so I could eat ’em twicet over.” These remarks met the applause he meant they should, and after the laughter had settled down to an occasional chuckle Neal turned to Alison to give her an account of the day’s adventures.
“We surmised it was Injuns,” Neal began. “We found moccasin tracks and other signs. There must have been about half a dozen of the redskins. We found, too, the tracks of a single horse and that we concluded was Hero. So we put this and that together and made up our minds that Steve went off hunting and the Injuns sneaked in after the horses. Well, we were in a dilemma; we wanted to find Steve and we wanted the horse stealers, so we divided; twoof us followed up Hero’s tracks and two went for the other horses. Hero worked around in a sort of circle and brought us out on the road where he came up this morning. We’d looked close all the way and there wasn’t any sign of Steve, so we surmised he had struck out for home after he lost his horse and had taken a different way. We knocked around for awhile but after a bit we concluded that we’d better start up the road and see after the other boys; then we met up with Pike. He was to wait at his house for Ira and Reub and get their report. They had come along by there and had gone on. Well, in about half an hour back they came. No luck. Injuns had got so far off that there was no good following them and so we joined forces and came home together about as disgusted a lot as you ever saw. Not a blessed bit of fun the entire time.”
“But suppose Steve doesn’t come back, what then?” Christine spoke up sharply.
“We’ll scour the country for him.”
And this indeed they came to do, for no Stephen appeared that day nor the next nor, indeed, did it seem after a while that he ever would appear. In time it came to be whispered about that he had been captured by the Indians, who must have come upon him as he was trudging home. No one made this explanation of his disappearance to Christine but she intuitively understood that it was the general opinion,yet she did not give up hope, though many a night her fast-flowing tears moistened her pillow, and the joy she had felt in the prospect of life in this new home was overshadowed by dread.