Ginkle had found his way once more out upon the front veranda. Ginkle, you understand, was the name of a tousle headed boy just out of bed. The morning sun shone brightly across the lake. The air was still fresh with the early dew. Grandfather sat on the lower step, smoking his after-breakfast pipe. The early day was so clear and still, and the lake so quiet under the hills, covered with pine forest and second growth, brush and grass, that the pipe he smoked might well have been called the pipe of peace. This did not mean that there were any Indians about. Ginkle came down the steps and found his way out to the tall trees which crowned the curved edge of the hill, just as it began to slope gently toward the water’s edge. The bank itself was rather sharp and high, so that the little boy climbed down a series of steps, and so reached the shore, and went upon thedock or boat-landing to sit down and look about him. It is hard telling what a little boy of five will think about when he first gets out of bed in the morning, and begins the new day.
“Ginkle! Where’s Ginkle!” This is what they had come to call him. His right name was Sylvester.
“Ginkle—come to breakfast.”
Granny was calling, and soon our little friend made his way up hill again, and was busy with his morning meal.
“Granny goin’ ’way?” was his question, as he looked up from his oatmeal. He had happened to notice that Grandma was busy about preparations.
“Yes, Ginkle. Granny’s going away for the day with some friends,” was the answer.
Grandfather’s summer home was a pleasant place for Ginkle to visit. A five-year-old boy always likes his grandfather and grandmother. This was now the second summer that he was spending at Three Pines. The cottage took its name from the three splendid big pine trees that stood right in front of the house, crowning the hill. The shore line below formed a semi-circle, against the foot of which the bright waves of the lake beat in the early sunshine. The sand was not so thick as to preventa fresh growth of grass over the hill-top and about the house. The lake was somewhat over a half mile wide at this place. The launches sped back and forth on their errands up and down the lake. On the other side, under the shadow of the pine woods that lined the shore, could be seen the boats of the early fishermen.
Our little boy had hardly waked up yet, in spite of his breakfast, to judge from the quiet way in which he stood under the three pines, sucking his thumb. He was tall and slim for a boy of his age. A big head rose above his shoulders, covered with a shock of light brown hair. He was about to toddle forward once more toward the steps that led down to the water, when there was a call—
“Hey—little boy—Ginkle!”
This time it was Grandfather who called.
“Come on, Ginkle—Granny’s leaving now.”
On the chair by the table was Granny’s bag, all ready, and soon they were following her along the path to the rear fence, where a car stood waiting. Mrs. Joyce was going out for a ride, apparently, and Granny was to go with her.
“Ginkle wants a ride?”
Certainly he did. It was unnecessary forMrs. Joyce to ask. But as Granny climbed in, Grannyfather took him from the running board of the car, and held him in his arms, while he watched the car disappear down the road among the trees and bushes.
“Now Ginkle, you must be a good boy; Granny is going away all day, and you must take good care of Grannyfather.” This had been the good-bye message.
“Aw wight.” Ginkle was willing, even if disappointed about the ride.
“Grannyfather will see that you get lots to eat.”
“Granny bring me something?”
“Oh, maybe.”
Grandfather and Ginkle then walked together along the path back to the house.
“Now Ginkle,” said Grandfather, “I guess we’ll take a trip too. What do you say?”
“Aw wight.” Ginkle was agreeable.
For some time they were busy about the house. On the table they found a big basket. Grandfather lifted the cover just enough to see that it was filled with good things to eat. Then he hunted up his ax, sharpened it, and put on some working clothes. He and Ginkle set out, carrying the basket between them. Along the sandy brush-lined road they went,Grandfather carrying his ax upon his shoulder. After something more than a half-mile walk they found themselves at a particularly wild and wooded part of the shoreline. In among the pines were gray rocks at intervals, and Grandfather hunted up a fresh bubbling water spring.
“Now, Ginkle, we must get to work,” said Grandfather.
“What do?” inquired the lad.
“Oh, we’ll just cut down a tree or two,” was the answer.
Soon a tree was selected, and to work went the ax. The woods fairly rang with the blows, the chips flew so that Ginkle had to dodge them, and very shortly two tall pines had fallen to the ground with a crash. The little boy ran away at first as if scared. However, he soon learned that there was no danger, and began to climb over the logs and run about, shouting till the woods rang.
“Grannyfader cut nudder tree?”
“Provided Ginkle will lend a hand,” said Grandfather, as he looked about. “Which one shall we take?”
“Dis one,” said Ginkle, petting the bark of a big tree.
“Not a bad choice,” answered the other,measuring the tree with his eye. In a moment Grandfather was in position and hard at work. Ginkle in the meantime ran about on the dry bedding of spines that covered the ground, ran in and out among the bushes, climbed upon the fallen logs of the trees that had been cut, and ran back and forth on their stems.
“Oh, boy,” exclaimed Grandfather, wiping the sweat from his brow, “I think we’ll eat our lunch.”
“Aw wight,” exclaimed Ginkle, who had been so busy as to forget to be hungry. They hunted up a shady place, not far from the spring, and Grandfather opened the basket. Sandwich after sandwich disappeared, and both ate and drank heartily.
“Cold, isn’t it?” said Grandfather as he held the cup fresh from the spring to the lad’s lips. “Yes—cool and refreshing. And now we’ll be ready for work again.”
“Yep,” said Ginkle; “Grannyfader, what makes the water bubble that-a-way?” Ginkle was pointing at the spring.
“Oh,” explained the other, “The water’s trying to talk, and bubbles are the best it can do.” Setting to work at the tree, his ax rang for some time very vigorously.
“That pine’s big,” exclaimed he, as he stopped to wipe the sweat from his face.
“Uh-huh,” agreed Ginkle.
This time Grandfather went to work in earnest, cutting away some brush in order to make room. He chopped away more vigorously than ever, and for a time he forgot his little grandson altogether. Suddenly he remembered.
“Ginkle, oh Ginkle, where are you? Keep away—look out!” he called. He had cut at the tree from both sides and had gone deeper than he thought. Suddenly the big pine began to totter. Glancing about for fear the boy might be caught, he cried out in warning. Ginkle was at a safe distance, but Grandfather forgot himself. As he turned he found the tree falling fast in his direction, and as he sought to jump away, his foot caught in some brush and he fell headlong, the tree across his prostrate body. Swish went the branches among the brush. Face down lay Grandfather, groaning under the fall and the heavy pressure of the fallen trunk. The cry that Ginkle gave was a relief, even in spite of his own danger, and the little fellow came to Grandfather’s side and tugged at his arm, crying big tears of fear and grief.
“Grannyfader hurted? Grannyfader hurted?” sobbed the lad.
“Help—we’ll need help,” groaned the prostrate man, “I—I’ll never get out of this without help.”
“What do, Grannyfader, what do?” exclaimed Ginkle, still tugging at his sleeve.
“Might run and tell Granny,” groaned Grandfather.
No sooner said than to his astonishment the little fellow disappeared, running down the path toward the road. For some time thereafter Grandfather lay struggling with his groans and his pain. It hardly seemed possible that Ginkle could bring help, and Grandma was far away, as he remembered, alas.
The birds chirped cheerfully, and the insects hummed. The wind sounded among the pines. From the lake he could hear the distant sound of the passing launch. Otherwise the only sound was his own groaning.
What had become of Ginkle? He had set out at a full run, and a short time later appeared at the gate to the cottage, and rushing up the path and the steps, threw the door wide open yelling—
“Granny—Granny!”
There was no answer. Grandmother wasnot yet at home. Crying loudly, and still calling for “Granny,” the lad ran down the path to the road, as tho not knowing what to do next. There he stood crying by the open gate, both his fists in his eyes. He stopped suddenly at an unexpected sound.
“Hi there, little boy, what’s the matter?”
In his crying he had not noticed that a car had stopped in which sat two men.
“That’s right, little boy, quit your crying,” shouted one of them.
Ginkle stared a moment, then he yelled—
“You lie, I don’t quit. I just stop a little while and then I begin again.” Ginkle once more set up a loud bawling.
“Well, boy, what’s the matter? Can’t you stop long enough to tell us?” asked one of the men as he climbed down and started for the gate.
“Guess he’s purty near too young to explain,” remarked the chauffeur.
“My grannyfader, he hurted. He tumble on de tree,” sobbed Ginkle. The moment he saw the man coming toward him he set out at a run, “Grannyfader, he here,” continued the lad, as he ran and sobbed.
“Believe me, that kid c’n run,” exclaimed the stranger, as he climbed back into the machine.The Ford started, rattled its usual way, and in a moment they were following the boy up the sandy road. When they caught up, one of the men jumped out and ran to catch the hurrying lad, and for the rest of the way he followed him, for the little chap jumped about and refused to be picked up. On ahead they hurried, and the car followed behind them until they reached the place where Ginkle insisted on going into the woods.
“Grannyfader, he here,” he explained. There was nothing to do but to follow the little guide. The stranger had not yet been able to get an idea as to what might be the matter. His companion stopped the machine and came hurrying after into the bushes.
“Oho!” exclaimed the man leading Ginkle, “so this is what’s the matter. Believe me, friend, you’re in bad.”
“So he got help, did he?” groaned Grandfather, as he twisted his head to look.
“The little feller sure raised some holler,” assured the man, as he bent down, touched Grandfather on the head, and felt of his hand.
“Say,” said the companion, who had also now come up, and was bending to look, “It’s lucky, all right, there seems to be a kind o’ hollow.”
The two found themselves unable to move the heavy tree, and so the one hurried back to the car for a shovel, and the other began to cut away more brush. For a time they looked around for something with which to pry, but they were not successful.
“You block it up, and I’ll begin diggin’,” said the man who had been with Ginkle. Ginkle now sat beside Grandfather, talking to him. Gently one of the men picked him up and put him in a safe place so that they could work, explaining to the little fellow what they were about to do. He himself hurried to find pieces of log which he could put under the tree for safety, while the other dug away with the shovel. They exchanged work, and so kept at it actively for some minutes.
“Say, friend, do you think you can stand some pulling?” asked one.
“Oh, I guess. Just try me,” answered Grandfather. Ginkle cried loudly again, but they were too busy to notice. In a few moments Grandfather sat against a tree, recovering from his terrible experience.
“Grannyfader tick? Grannyfader hurted?” Ginkle’s cheeks were still wet with tears as he spoke.
“Not so bad, I guess,” answered Grandfather, “not so bad as it looked, I hope.”
“Awkward place to turn, looks to me,” remarked the chauffeur as he set out thru the brush toward the road. Soon they heard the machine purring, and in a few moments he reappeared. Both men now took Grandfather by the arms, and with their help he was able to make his way with some groaning out to the car.
“Granny—Granny, she not home, maybe,” said Ginkle, climbing close to Grandfather in the rear seat.
“Oh—my back—feels like it’s broken,” groaned Grandfather, as he clung to the cushions. Soon the car started. The men drove very slowly and carefully on their way back to the house. From the machine they helped the injured man carefully on his way into the house, and had just placed him among pillows in a big, comfortable-looking rocker, when Ginkle ran suddenly for the door.
“Granny—here Granny coming,” he shouted.
In a twinkling he was down the hill at the water’s edge. She had returned by the afternoon boat. He met Grandmother on the landing, and was so busy telling all about whathad happened to “Grannyfader” that Granny was thoroly scared, and absolutely confused as to whether it had been a tornado or a band of robbers, between Ginkle’s description of fallen trees and strangers suddenly appearing, so that she hurried breathless up the steps, across the porch, into the house, Ginkle pulling vigorously at her hand all the way and hurrying her on.
“Why, what’s the matter? What do you mean? Grannyfather hurt? How can that be?” exclaimed Granny, all out of breath, as she jostled into the room along with the lad.
“Why—what has happened?” was her anxious question, as she hurried to the rocker.
“Not so bad, Granny. Don’t get scared,” was the reassuring word from Grandfather. All the rest were silent, and the little grandson stood by with open eyes, chewing his thumb, as the injured man went on to explain what had happened. By this time Granny was straightening the pillows, and bustling about to help him into a more comfortable position.
“Mighty lucky the little feller was around,” remarked the chauffeur, “believe me, he c’n run. We had a hard time to keep up with ’im.”
“Yes,” added Grandfather, “you ought to have seen him start off for help. He disappeared like a shot, without even stopping for me to instruct him,” said Grandfather, stroking the bushy head as he spoke.
Grandmother was profuse in her gratitude to the men as they left, and went immediately on their departure to telephone for a doctor. On his arrival he made a careful examination, and assured them that no bones were broken, that aside from bruises and a severe wrenching of the back-bone there was likely no injury. After a few days, if Grandfather was careful, he would quite surely be about again as usual. The escape certainly was a fortunate one, and the service rendered by our little friend remarkable. The doctor patted Ginkle on the head and left.
While the doctor came again the following day, and then again later, all went as he had at first judged. After a few days Grannyfather and grandson were again seated in the warm morning sunshine out under the pines.
“Grannyfader feel well?” inquired Ginkle looking out toward the fresh blue water of the lake.
“Remarkably so, boy, remarkably,” was the answer; “shall we go tree cutting again?”
“Grannyfader want to go?”
“Well, maybe, how about Ginkle?”
“Um.”
“Big tree here,” exclaimed the lad, pointing at the three tall pines just in front of the bench on which they were seated. “Jus’ like big Kismas Tree.”
“Yes, indeed. They would make great Christmas trees, wouldn’t they? Does Ginkle remember the Christmas story?”
“Tree wise men, too,” remarked he—“tree, jes’ like big trees here, aint they.”
“In number, yes. I suppose you’re right there,” answered Grandfather. “What’s that got to do with our pines? What do you mean, Ginkle?”
“Um—I dno.”
“Well, anyway, you remember, don’t you Ginkle.”
The lad looked out across the lake and apparently began to think about something else.
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