The Project Gutenberg eBook ofBrother BillyThis 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 atwww.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: Brother BillyAuthor: Frances Margaret FoxIllustrator: Etheldred B. BarryRelease date: January 9, 2014 [eBook #44637]Most recently updated: October 23, 2024Language: EnglishCredits: E-text prepared by Juliet Sutherland, haragos pál, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BROTHER BILLY ***
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 atwww.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: Brother BillyAuthor: Frances Margaret FoxIllustrator: Etheldred B. BarryRelease date: January 9, 2014 [eBook #44637]Most recently updated: October 23, 2024Language: EnglishCredits: E-text prepared by Juliet Sutherland, haragos pál, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team
Title: Brother Billy
Author: Frances Margaret FoxIllustrator: Etheldred B. Barry
Author: Frances Margaret Fox
Illustrator: Etheldred B. Barry
Release date: January 9, 2014 [eBook #44637]Most recently updated: October 23, 2024
Language: English
Credits: E-text prepared by Juliet Sutherland, haragos pál, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BROTHER BILLY ***
The Project Gutenberg eBook, Brother Billy, by Frances Maragret Fox, Illustrated by Etheldred B. Barry
Works ofFrances Margaret FoxFarmer Brown and the Birds $ .50The Little Giant's Neighbours .50Mother Nature's Little Ones .50Betty of Old Mackinaw .50Brother Billy .50Little Lady Marjorie 1.50
L. C. PAGE & COMPANYNew England BuildingBoston, Mass.
'THAT'S MY AUNT FLORENCE'S LOCKET'
"'THAT'S MY AUNT FLORENCE'S LOCKET'"
(See page 31)
Cosy Corner Series
BROTHER BILLY
ByFrances Margaret Fox
Author of "Farmer Brown and the Birds," "Little LadyMarjorie," "Betty of Old Mackinaw," etc.
Illustrated byEtheldred B. Barry
BostonL. C. Page & Company1905
Copyright, 1904
By L. C. Page & Company
(INCORPORATED)
All rights reserved
Published October, 1904
COLONIAL PRESSElectrotyped and Printed by C. H. Simonds & Co.Boston, Mass., U. S. A.
TOMY DEAREST ONE
Lee Everett Joslyn, Jr.
CONTENTS
ILLUSTRATIONS
BROTHER BILLY
Billy was cross. The twins from Grand Rapids who were living in the green cottage wanted him to play Indians on the beach. The boy from Detroit, whose mother didn't know where he was half the time, had been teasing him to go swimming. 'Phonse LeBrinn, child of Mackinaw, was throwing stones at the boat-house, a signal Billy well understood. When 'Phonse had a plan that promised more fun than usual, he always threw stones at the boat-house. Other boys came to the door and rang the bell or knocked when they wanted Billy.'Phonse knew better. Billy longed to find out what was on his mind, but it wouldn't do to let any one know that the ragged little playmate had a particular reason for throwing stones.
Suddenly a light dawned on Billy's face. "Mamma," said he, "let me go down on the beach and tell Frenchy he must quit that, he'll spoil the paint. I won't be gone but a minute."
"Now, see here," remonstrated Billy's mother, "never mind what 'Phonse is doing, and keep away from the window, Billy, so he won't see you. Come, child, Aunt Florence will soon be ready."
"Oh, shoot the luck! I don't want to go with Aunt Florence. I want to play with the boys. What made Betty go and tell her all about old fort relics, I'd like to know."
"Hush, hush, Billy! Aunt Florence may hear you."
"Well, but, mamma, I don't want to go to the old fort and dig beads all the afternoon. It's too warm. I'm roasting."
Billy's mother laughed. One look at the child's face was enough to make anybody laugh. He was so cross. "Maybe auntie won't care to stay long, Billy. Strangerswho are not accustomed to our woods often feel pretty lonesome at the old fort."
"She'll stay, mamma; I know all about bead-diggers; they stay and stay. Besides that, she won't be afraid, because there are about a million thousand resorter folks up there every day digging relics. I wish that Betty had kept something to herself. She just reads that old Pontiac's history all the time, and then tells all she knows to anybody that wants to find out. She makes me tired. I don't like to go to the old fort, anyway."
"Why not, Billy?"
"'Cause everybody up there that don't know you asks questions. They say, 'There's a little boy, ask him;' then 'cause you don't want to talk, they say, 'Lost your tongue,' and silly things like that. Aunt Florence is a question asker, too, mamma. Oh, shoot the luck!"
"I'll tell you a good plan, Billy dear," suggested his mother. "You help Aunt Florence dig beads, like a good boy, and very likely she'll be willing to come home sooner. Then you can play with the boys the rest of the afternoon."
"May I play with Frenchy?"
"Ye-es, yes, you may this time."
Billy's face brightened suddenly. "Oh, goody, goody, there comes Betty," he cried. "Now I won't have to go. Where's my hat? Oh, Bet, you came just in time," continued the boy. "Aunt Florence wants you to go to the old fort with her to dig beads, because the missionary meeting's going to be here, and mamma says to entertain Aunt Florence. You've got to go, that's all."
"Of course she must go," echoed Aunt Florence, who came down-stairs in time to hear Billy's last words. "Didn't you find your little girl at home, Betty?"
"No, auntie, she had gone to the island, but I only came home for a minute to ask—"
"Well," interrupted Aunt Florence, "then of course you can go with Billy and me to the old fort."
"Guess—guess I won't go, Aunt Florence; there's a boy down there wants me," and Billy waved his hand to 'Phonse.
"Yes, Billy'll go with you," Betty hastened to say, "because—because, Aunt Florence, I can't. I'd love to, but I must go to see another girl. I'd love to walk up there with you, but—but I—"
"You needn't go if you don't want to, children," Aunt Florence looked the least bit grieved.
"Certainly they want to go," declared Billy's mother, in a tone that Betty and Billy understood. "Go find your little shovels, children, and bring Aunt Florence the fire shovel from the wood-shed."
Billy was about to venture a protest, but, catching a look from Betty that meant a great deal to him, he followed her out of the room.
"What is it, Bet?" he whispered.
"Well, Billy, don't you see it won't do a bit of good to make a fuss. We'll have to go to the old fort; mamma'll make us. But I know one way to fix it so we won't have to stay long. The Robinsons are making pineapple sherbet, and they've invited me to it, so I can't waste time up to the old fort this afternoon. I told Lucille I'd come right straight back soon's I asked mamma."
"And I want to play with Frenchy," put in the little brother.
"But don't you see, Billy, we've got to bedecent to company first, so we'll take her to the old fort all right enough, but we'll scare her to death when we get her there, so she'll want to come right straight home. Don't you see? I'll tell her true wild Indian stories, and she won't want to stay."
"And I know another thing we can do," agreed Billy.
"What is it?"
"We'll take your old fort beads and then, Betty, we'll break the string and scatter the beads in the dirt, and then we'll call her to come and find them. She'll be satisfied to come home after that."
"Why, of course, Billy, and your plan is so much better than mine, we'll try it first. We won't scare her unless we have to, though a good scare never hurts anybody. You get the beads while I get the shovels. Hurry now, we'll have some fun."
Mrs. Grannis was much relieved when the children returned with pleasant faces. Aunt Florence, too, was pleased.
"I truly wouldn't want you to go a step unless you were perfectly willing," she said, as they were leaving the house.
"Well, auntie, we're always willing to go anywhere, Billy and I, if we think we can have some fun, and we're going to have a jolly time this afternoon, aren't we, Billy?"
The little brother's round face beamed as he felt of the beads in his trousers' pocket.
"You are the dearest children," exclaimed Aunt Florence. "I wish I could take you back to New York with me. You can't remember your grandfather and grandmother at all, can you, Billy?"
"No, wouldn't know 'em if I'd meet 'em."
"It's a shame. Never mind, I'll tell them all about you two and Gerald, and some day I'm coming north on purpose to take you all home with me, and we'll have the best kind of a time."
"Guess you wouldn't think of coming after us if we lived where we do now, and it was a hundred years ago," suggested Betty.
"Why not?"
"Oh, because you would have had to comefrom Detroit in a canoe, and this was all woods then, deep, deep woods full of Indians."
"Dear me, Betty, don't speak of it! It seems to me there are woods enough here now. My! What a dreary place! the undergrowth is so thick you can't see the water, and yet you can hear every wave. Betty Grannis, do you mean to tell me that you ever come out here to the old fort alone?"
"Oh, not very often; it is rather dreary, isn't it, auntie? You see, this is an old, old Indian trail, and that is why the pines meet overhead. Let's walk faster. I don't believe you'll want to stay long, auntie, after you get to the fort."
"I agree with you, Betty, this is a lonesome walk. I almost wish we'd stayed at home."
"Let's turn around and go back," suggested Billy.
"Oh, I must find some beads," Aunt Florence insisted. "Do you ever see Indians around here nowadays?"
"Oh, just tame ones," Billy was honest enough to say.
"You must be brave children," the younglady remarked, as she followed Betty through the gloomy forest.
Isn't it queer about Indian trails?
"We're used to it," Betty sung over her shoulder, and Billy knew she was laughing. "Besides that, we can run like the wind if we have to. Then you know, auntie, the awful things that happened here happened over a hundred years ago, and there isn't any real danger now, of course. It just makes you feel shivery, that's all. Isn't it queer about Indian trails, how they wind in and out so often? This trail is exactly as it used to be.Did you ever read 'The Conspiracy of Pontiac,' auntie?"
"No, Betty, I never read it all; I simply know about the massacre here. Have you read it?"
"She knows it by heart," said Billy. "She can say bushels of Indian speeches. Tell her one, Betty. Tell her that one where the Indian said to Alexander Henry, 'The rattlesnake is our grandfather.'"
"Yes, do, Betty, only tell me first who Alexander Henry was."
"Why, auntie, don't you know? He was the English fur-trader whose life was saved by the Indian chief Wawatam. I like him best of any fur-trader I ever knew."
"Do tell me his story, Betty."
"Oh, I can't tell it, it is too long. Do you want to know what happened to him in the spring of 1761, two years before the massacre?"
"Yes, certainly."
"Well, of course, you know all about the French and Indian War, auntie?"
"Yes, I know something about it."
"Then, auntie, you know that the Frenchliked the Indians, and the Indians liked them, but the English despised the Indians, and treated them so badly the Indians hated all Englishmen. That was why the Indians helped the French in their war. They wanted to drive the English out of the country. Well, when the war was over, the Indians didn't know that the English came out ahead, and that the French soldiers would have to march out of every fort and that the English soldiers would march in. Even my Pontiac didn't know it."
"He'd have known all about his own war and where he died if he'd had you for a sister," mocked Billy.
"Don't talk quite so loud, Billy dear," cautioned Aunt Florence.
"'Fraid?" questioned Billy.
"Oh, not exactly; go on, Betty, we're listening. How much longer is this Indian trail, anyway?"
"Only half a mile, auntie. Billy, you'll punch a hole through your pocket if you aren't careful."
"Go on with your story, Bet, and don't turn around so much."
"Well," continued Betty, giving Billy a look that meant "Don't you dare lose those beads," "well, auntie, in the spring of that year, 1761, the French soldiers had left this fort, and only Canadian families were living in it. The English soldiers hadn't come yet, but they were on the way. The fort was over a hundred years old then. Only think of it!
"Alexander Henry, my Englishman, wasn't afraid of anything, that's why I like him. He came up here with canoes full of beads and things to trade with the Indians for furs. On the way he was warned again and again to go back if he didn't want to be killed. He probably would have been killed long before he got here if he hadn't put on the clothes of a Canadian voyageur."
"They're the ones," interrupted Billy, "that used to paddle the canoes and sing 'Row, brothers, row,' and—"
"She knows that," sniffed Betty; "even our baby knows that much. Well, auntie, when Alexander Henry got here, the Canadians were bad to him and tried to scare him. They wanted him to go away before anything happened. He hadn't been here but a short timewhen Minnavavana, a Chippewa Indian chief, came with sixty warriors to call on him. They marched to his house single file, auntie. Their faces were painted with grease and charcoal, and they had feathers through their noses and feathers in their hair. Their bodies were painted with white clay. That isn't the worst of it. Every warrior carried a tomahawk in one hand and a scalping-knife in the other. I suppose they came along this very trail.
"Alexander Henry says they walked into the house without a sound. The chief made a sign and they all sat on the floor. Minnavavana asked one of the interpreters how long it was since Mr. Henry left Montreal, and then he said it seemed that the English were brave men and not afraid to die, or they wouldn't come as he had, alone, among their enemies. Then all the Indians smoked their pipes, and let Alexander Henry think about things while it was nice and quiet. Just think of it, auntie!
"When the Indians were through smoking, Minnavavana made a speech. I don't know it by heart, but it was something like this:
"'Englishman, it is to you that I speak. Englishman, you know that the French kingpromised to be our father. We promised to be his children. We have kept this promise. Englishman, it is you that have made war with our father. You are his enemy. How could you have the boldness to venture among us, his children? You know his enemies are ours.
"'Englishman, our father, the King of France, is old and infirm. Being tired of war, he has fallen asleep. But his nap is almost at an end. I think I hear him stirring and asking for his children, the Indians, and, when he does awake, what must become of you? He will destroy you utterly.'"
Betty, becoming much in earnest, was walking backward.
"'Englishman, we have no father, no friend among the white men but the King of France,'" the child went on. "'But for you, we have taken into consideration that you have ventured your life among us in the expectation that we should not molest you. You do not come to make war; you come in peace to trade with us. We shall regard you, therefore, as a brother, and you may sleep tranquilly, withoutfear of the Chippewas. As a token of friendship, we present you this pipe to smoke.'"
Whereupon, Betty, making a serious bow, offered her little shovel to Aunt Florence. For the moment, she actually believed herself Minnavavana, the Indian chief, though Billy's face quickly brought her back to the present.
"I am thankful to say," resumed Betty, joining in the laugh following the presentation of the shovel, "that after three hundred warriors of another tribe came and were going to make trouble, the English soldiers arrived, and the red flag of England soon floated above the fort. Then, for two years, nothing much happened, but I'm glad I wasn't here then. I wouldn't have slept a wink, I know."
"Neither should I, Betty," Aunt Florence agreed.
"Frenchy'd have been all right, though," remarked Billy. "There's the fort, Aunt Florence, straight ahead; the trail ends here. Now we will find an old cellar-hole and hunt for beads. Let me go first, Betty."
"The fort," repeated Aunt Florence, "where is it?" She saw nothing but a wilderness of wild-rose blooms.
"Oh," laughed Betty, "there's nothing left of the fort but part of the old palisades. Most of the buildings were burned the day of the massacre."
"It's unspeakably dreary, in spite of the sunshine and the roses," commented Aunt Florence, "but I do want some beads."
"Come on, come on," cried Billy. "Oh, hurry up, Aunt Florence, I'm finding beads by the bushel."
"Where is the child? can you see him, Betty?"
"'Way over there, auntie, in that cellar-hole near the old apple-tree. We think that is where one of the storehouses used to be, because all around it is where most of the beads have been found."
For awhile Aunt Florence forgot the surrounding woods, in her eager search for beads. Had she known Betty and Billy as their mother knew them, she might have understood that there was more of mischief than pure joy in their smiles.
"Never found so many beads in one place in my life," declared Billy.
"Nor anybody else in the last hundred years," added Betty. "Fun, isn't it?"
"Fun!" echoed Aunt Florence, "why, children, I won't want to go home until dark."
Betty stared, and Billy made faces. This was an unexpected blow. At last the beads that Betty had collected, after working hours and hours through many a day, were all found.
"Now we'll look for another place," announced Aunt Florence.
"I guess we are alone out here," suggested Betty, glancing about, as though she felt uneasy.
"Oh, no," was the cheerful reply, "down there nearer the lake I saw two sunbonnets not three minutes ago. We're all right, children; I'm not the least bit timid."
Patiently Aunt Florence continued her search for beads, encouraged by the hope of finding another place equal to the first.
"It seems strange that there should have been so many beads in one spot of earth, and so few everywhere else," she said, "but I'm not going to give up now, after such luck in the beginning."
"You'll just have to scare her to death, Iguess," grumbled Billy. "Lost your beads for nothing, too."
"Trouble is," confessed Betty, moving nearer Billy and farther from her aunt, "this isn't a good place to tell Indian stories."
"Why not?"
"Because, Billy, I get scared myself. Honest and truth, I don't even like to think of such horrible things right here where they happened."
"Don't make any difference, you've got to," protested Billy. "Don't you know she said she'd stay here till dark?"
"I know it, Billy; let me see, how'll I begin. Oh, I know, Alexander Henry was in his room in the fort writing letters home. Perhaps, Billy, we are standing on the very place where his house was. He was so busy with his letters he didn't want to take the time to go down to the beach to see the canoes that had just arrived from Detroit. First thing he knew, he heard the war-whoops. Mercy, Billy! Don't scream like that again!"
"Billy Grannis," called Aunt Florence, "what's the matter?"
"Why, that was just an Indian war-whoop,auntie. Frenchy and I have been practising whoops lately."
"Well, please don't practise any more now; you made me jump so I lost three beads. I don't believe an Indian could give a worse yell."
"Oh, yes, he could," exclaimed Betty, "my, that's nothing!" and, seeing her opportunity, she began telling stories. Even Billy grew solemn in his very mind as he listened, and it wasn't long before Betty succeeded in scaring herself, however Aunt Florence may have felt.
Suddenly the air was filled with shrieks. Aunt Florence became white as the daisies, as she stared at Betty, while terror seized Billy.
"It's the sunbonnet girls," gasped Betty; "what do you s'pose is the matter? What is the matter?" she demanded of the flying maidens.
"Indians, Indians, run quick, run, run! I tell you they're after us!"
One glance toward the lake was enough for Betty. She saw canoes being drawn up on the beach, and Indians coming straight toward them. The child was never more frightenedin her life. Forgetting Billy, she and Aunt Florence fairly flew over the rough ground. Billy, poor fellow! never could run because he was too plump. He hadn't gone ten breathless steps before he fell into a cellar-hole, and, before he could scramble out, a big Indian overtook him.
"Match," grunted the Indian, "want match."
"N-n-no, I don't want any matches," answered Billy, trying to steady his trembling knees.
"Humph! Indian want match. Give Indian match. Indian build fire," was the explanation.
Billy shook his head, and the Indian turned away disappointed.
"That Betty'd leave you to be eaten up by Indians," grumbled Billy, and, because he was so angry and because he had been so badly frightened over nothing, he began to cry.
"Billy, Billy, don't cry, I came back after you, you poor child." It was the voice of Aunt Florence, though Billy couldn't see her.
"Here I am, behind this clump of goose-berry bushes, Billy. I didn't dare comestraight back, so I kept behind trees and bushes. Come quick; now let's run."
"There isn't anything to run for, Aunt Florence," sobbed Billy. "Don't you see, they're just tame Indians, and wouldn't hurt anybody? Don't you see the little Indian children and the squaws, too? I s'pose they've come with baskets to sell. Yes, there comes a squaw, going to town now with a load of baskets."
"Then I guess I'll sit down and rest a minute," said Aunt Florence, "for I'm tired out. It's dreadful to be so frightened. I'm trembling yet."
"Me, too," confessed Billy. "Where's that Betty?"
"Home by this time, I presume," was the laughing reply, "unless she couldn't stop running when she got there, in which case she's probably in the lake. Well, Billy, let's walk on now, or the whole missionary society will be coming to our rescue."
"Oh, Billy, I've been crying my eyes out, fear something had happened to you," was Betty's greeting when she saw her little brother.
Billy made a face, as he replied in scornfultones: "'Fore I'd run away from tame Indians!" For many a day thereafter, if Billy wanted anything that belonged to Betty, it was his if he but threatened to say "Tame Indians."
Early the following afternoon, Billy saw 'Phonse LeBrinn throwing stones at the boat-house, and, as he liked to play with 'Phonse much better than with his nearest neighbours, the twins in the green cottage, he flew down the bank fast as he could go.
"Oh, Frenchy," he panted, "I wish I could run like a deer, way you do. I can't run worth a cent."
"Shouldn't think you could," grinned 'Phonse.
"Let's go the other side of the boat-house," suggested Billy, "I'm 'fraid, if my mother sees me down here, she'll think of something she wants me to do."
'Phonse was sure of it, so he and Billy straightway sought a hiding-place.
"What have you got that tog on for?" asked 'Phonse.
"Going to be a thimble party at our house," explained Billy, "and Bet made such a fuss I had to be dressed up fear somebody might see me."
"Where's Gerald?"
"He's camping this week at the Snow Islands with some folks. Wish he was home. What'll we do this afternoon, 'Phonse?"
"Catch minnows; don't you want to?"
"I'd rather hunt for Aunt Florence's locket than anything else. See, 'Phonse, that girl up there on the bank looking through my father's spy-glass, she's my Aunt Florence, and she's a brick."
"Ain't she pretty!" exclaimed 'Phonse. "She's the prettiest lady I ever saw. She wouldn't like me, though; nobody does."
"I do; all the trouble is, 'Phonse, nobody's acquainted with you. Now, if you could find Aunt Florence's locket that she lost yesterday, she'd like you for ever and ever. I know she would."
"Where'd she lose it, Billy?"
"She thinks she lost it at the old fort yesterday. It's a gold locket that her father gave her when she graduated last summer, and Aunt Florence and I hunted for it all the forenoon. We had to give up. 'Phonse, you stay here, and I'll run up to the house and tell my mother I'm going to hunt for the locket. You be walking up the beach, and I'll meet you around the point."
When Billy rejoined his ragged playmate, the two began a diligent search for the locket.
"If anybody can find it, you can, 'Phonse."
"Aw, somebody's picked it up 'fore this, Billy. Nobody could help seeing it on this black ground. Gold shines, you know."
"Maybe," suggested Billy, "maybe she didn't lose it; perhaps she lost it where we were digging for beads. Surely, this morning we hunted over every inch of this trail, and you know Betty."
'Phonse nodded his black head. "She'd find it if it was here. Don't you want to go swimmun, Billy?"
"Too cold, 'Phonse; we'd freeze."
"We can make a bonfire on the beach, see?" 'Phonse showed Billy a handful of matches. "Swiped 'em," he commented. "We'll godown on the sand under the bank and start a fire beside of the tramp's raft. Nobody'll see us there, you know, and we can go swimmun and get dressed where it's warm."
"All right, sir," assented Billy, "only don't run, 'Phonse, whatever you do."
Beyond the fort was an old raft of planks, upon which years before tramps crossed the straits in a storm. It was a favourite resort among the boys. Billy instantly began gathering driftwood for a bonfire.
"Guess the Indians had a fire in this same place yesterday, 'Phonse," he said, "because just see the new-looking ashes. Wonder if they started it with flint or by rubbing two sticks together. Do you know?"
"No, I don't. Hustle up, Billy, and don't stop to talk."
When the pile of driftwood was high enough to suit 'Phonse, he started the fire. Thanks to the west wind, it burned, and the boys were soon ready for the water. Billy walked into the lake, screaming at every step. 'Phonse climbed upon a rock and plunged in.
"Silly," he shouted, "course you'll be coldacting that way; get down in the water, Billy, then you'll be warm."
"It's too—too—too early to go swimming," gasped Billy, shivering in the wind and the icy water. "I—I'm—I'm glad we started the fire."
"Come out where it's deeper; here, give me your hand," said 'Phonse, "I'll show you how to go swimmun."
Soon Billy declared that the water was warm, and he and 'Phonse played in the lake for an hour. They splashed, laughed, and shouted, with only the gulls to hear, until 'Phonse said it was time to get dressed. The fire was out. 'Phonse threw some bark upon the coals, and looked for his clothes. There was not a thread of them left.
"Oh, Billy," he wailed "we left our clothes too near the fire, and they're all burned up; what can we do?"
"Oh, what shall we do?" cried Billy. "Oh, b-b-but m-my c-c-clothes are all r-right," he added in the next breath. "I'll divide with you, 'Phonse."
"Your clothes ain't either all right," insisted 'Phonse. "They're burning yet. Look at them."
"Here's one all right s-stocking, just the same, 'Phonse."
"Let me take it, then, Billy, and I'll put out the fire with it that's burning the rest of the things."
"You may wear the stocking," offered Billy. "The other one's gone, and the shoes are spoiled. Why, 'Phonse, there isn't anything left of my clothes but my shirt and my blouse and my trousers,—and look at my trousers, will you, all full of holes!"
"What if you didn't have anything left," grumbled 'Phonse. "I've got some shoes and stockings at home, Billy, but that's all. I don't know what dad will do, but I'll catch it, sure."
"Oh, 'Phonse, my mother'll give you some clothes to wear, if we can ever get to my house, but, oh, dear, it is so cold! Which do you want to wear, 'Phonse, my shirt or my white blouse; there's one sleeve burned out of both of 'em, and my waist is all gone."
"I'll take the shirt," 'Phonse decided."Don't cry, Billy, I'm the one that ought to cry."
"B-but, but I'm s-s-so c-cold, and, oh, dear, I'm going to put on the s-s-stocking if you—you don't want it."
"I do, though," insisted 'Phonse; "give her here. You've got more on than I have, anyway. Come on, Billy, we'll be warmer if we run."
"Only I can't run, and—and—and the s-s-stones h-hurt m-my fee-feet," protested Billy, his teeth chattering.
"Don't be a baby," 'Phonse advised. "Oh, Billy, what if there is a lot of folks at the old fort? We better keep back from the lake. It's too cold here, anyway. Let's sneak around where the bushes grow."
"All right, go ahead, 'Phonse."
Cautiously the boys made their way around the clearing. They were nearly past the old fort grounds when they heard voices.
"Duck, Billy, duck; it's some boys from out of town," whispered 'Phonse, "and if they see us, I don't know what'll happen! Let's crawl!"
"Listen," Billy replied; "they've found awonderful relic, I guess; hear them quarrel. Oh, 'Phonse, it's my Aunt Florence's locket, that's what it is, and they've got to give it up!"
Without stopping to think further, Billy darted from the thicket, followed closely by 'Phonse.
"That's my Aunt Florence's locket, so please give it to me," demanded the child, springing toward the largest boy in the group.
"Listen to him, will you," replied a taunting voice. "Here's the Wild Man of Borneo wants his Aunt Florence's locket. Well, I guess not. Have you two escaped from a circus, or do you want to join one, which?"
"Give me that locket," cried Billy. "I say that belongs to my Aunt Florence."
Great fun the big boys had then, teasing poor Billy, who begged, threatened, and jumped for the locket held just beyond his reach.
"Tell you what," suggested the roughest-looking boy, "let's tie these youngsters together, and leave them here until we can get out of town. Them's diamonds in that locket, boys."
At that moment 'Phonse sprang like a wild-cat upon the boy with the locket, and, snatching the treasure, ran with it to the woods. Billy was never more astonished, and at first the boys were too surprised to chase the strange little figure flying across the clearing. When they ran after 'Phonse, Billy hid. He wasn't afraid any one could catch 'Phonse, the swift-footed French boy, but he did fear being caught himself. Like an old-time Indian, Billy managed to keep out of the enemy's sight all the way home. 'Phonse was waiting for him in the edge of the woods.
"Here," said 'Phonse, offering Billy the locket, "take it to her."
Billy shook his head. "'Phonse, you come in the wood-shed, and sit in the corner where nobody'll see you, while I ask my mother for some clothes for us. Then you can give auntie the locket yourself."
"Won't you catch it?" asked 'Phonse; "you don't look very nice, Billy."
"You do what I tell you," remarked Billy. "My mother's the kind you can explain things to. I don't want the company to see me, though, so I guess I'll whistle for Betty."
Betty quickly appeared in answer to the whistle.
"Why, Billy Grannis!" she began, and then how she laughed.
"Keep still, Bet, there is a boy in the wood-shed that's cold. He hasn't on very much clothes, and he wants something to wear home."
That was all 'Phonse heard, as Billy was led into the house. The little fellow returned in a moment, dragging a cape. "Here, 'Phonse, Betty sent you this to wrap up in, and Betty says come in by the kitchen fire."
"I won't do it," was the reply.
"All right, then, I'll have to bring your 'freshments out here. It's a shivering kind, though,—ice-cream and cake; want some?"
"Don't I? You bet!" was the answer.
"Come, 'Phonse, come in the kitchen," urged Betty, again appearing at the door. "Please come. Billy has told auntie and me about the locket, and Aunt Florence just loves you. Quick as the company goes, mamma'll find you something to wear."
Trailing the cape behind him, 'Phonsewalked into the kitchen, where Betty introduced him to Aunt Florence.