The little girl pouted, and shed a few quiet tears to which Desiré wisely paid no attention. Slowly they strolled along the main street, pausing to look in the window of a stationer’s where the books and English magazines attracted Desiré’s eye; stopping to gaze admiringly at the jewelry, china, pictures, and souvenirs attractively displayed in another shop.
“Just see the lovely purple stones!” cried Priscilla, who had recovered her good humor.
“Those are amethysts,” explained Jack. “They come from Cape Blomidon,” adding to Desiré, “I heard that another vein split open this year.”
“Isn’t it strange that the intense cold nearly every winter brings more of the beautiful jewels to light?” commented the girl.
“A kind of rough treatment which results in profit and beauty,” mused Jack.
“Yes; and, Jack, maybe it will be like that with us. Things are hard now, but perhaps soon we’ll find—”
“Some am’thysts?” asked René excitedly.
“Perhaps,” replied Jack, giving Desiré one of his rare sweet smiles.
The stores had been left behind now, and on every hand were green tree-shaded lawns enclosed by carefully trimmed hedges of English hawthorne in full bloom. Desiré exclaimed with rapture over their beauty, and the size and style of the houses beyond them. On a little side street they paused before a small cottage, half hidden in vines.
“This must be the place,” decided Jack, opening the white gate which squeaked loudly as if protesting against the entrance of strangers. The sound brought a woman to the door.
“I’m looking for Simon Denard,” began Jack.
“You’ve come to the right place to find him,” she replied, smiling, as she came toward them and put out one hand to pat René’s head. “Simon Denard is my father. I’m Mrs. Chaisson. Come right in.”
In the small living room to which she led them sat old Simon, propped up with pillows in a big chair.
“So here ye are,” was his greeting, as the children dashed across the floor to his side.
“Be careful,” warned Desiré quickly. “You might hurt Simon.”
“Let ’em be! Let ’em be!” protested the old man, beaming upon his visitors. “What’s an extra stab of pain, or two?”
“Father has told me about you people so often that I feel as if I knew you,” Mrs. Chaisson was saying to Jack, after he introduced Desiré and the children; “so I want you to stay here as long as you’re in town; that is, if you haven’t made other plans.”
The expression on her kindly face indicated clearly that she hoped they hadn’t.
“But there are so many of us,” objected the boy.
“It’s perfectly all right, if you don’t mind kind of camping out a bit.”
“That’s what we expect to do all summer,” said Desiré; “and we’ll surely be glad of any arrangements you make for us, as long as we don’t put you about too much. You are very kind indeed.”
“Then it’s all settled,” said their hostess briskly; “I’ll get supper right away; for you must be hungry.”
The cottage boasted of a living room, dining room, kitchen, and two small bedrooms; so stowing away four extra people was something of an achievement. Immediately after they had finished the simple but delicious meal that Mrs. Chaisson prepared, Desiré shyly offered to help her hostess in preparation for the night.
“Thank you, my dear; if you will clear up the supper table and do the dishes while I hunt up some bedding, it will be very nice.”
“Please don’t trouble yourself about me,” said Jack, detaining Mrs. Chaisson on one of her many trips through the room; “I can sleep on the porch, or anywhere.”
“I’ll fix some place for you,” she replied, putting her hand on his shoulder. “Just go on with your business arrangements.” He and Simon had been discussing the route, customers, stock, and other details.
Like so many childless women, Mrs. Chaisson had a passion for children; and the thoughts of this little family starting out so bravely in search of a living moved her strongly.
“How I wish I could adopt them all,” she thought as she hurried on. “If only we had a little more money; but then, there’s Father, too, now; it couldn’t be done, even with the help of that fine big boy. I don’t wonder that his sister almost worships him.”
Nine o’clock saw them all settled for a good sleep. Old Simon in his own room, Mrs. Chaisson sharing hers with Priscilla, Desiré on the couch in the living room, and Jack and René in hammocks on the screened porch. It had been decided before they slept that as soon as breakfast was over, they would start out upon the great adventure.
“There is no use in hanging around here,” Jack had said to Desiré in their goodnight talk on the front steps.
“Wouldn’t it seem rather odd, or ungrateful, to hurry away so soon?” suggested the girl. “Mrs. Chaisson has been so very good to us.”
“I know that,” replied Jack quickly; “and for that very reason, we can’t take advantage of her. Then too, the longer we stay, the harder it will be for both sides when we do go.”
The boy had immediately sensed the good woman’s distress over their undertaking, and felt that the kindest act would be their immediate departure.
“Of course I realize,” he went on, “that it’s nice for you to have a little rest, and a woman’s companionship; but—”
“Don’t worry over me, Jack dear,” replied his sister, slipping her hand into his. “Whatever you decide is all right. So we’ll all be ready early in the morning.”
“You’re a good little soul,” answered Jack, with an affectionate goodnight kiss. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
Completely happy at his words of commendation, Desiré entered the house; and soon everyone was fast asleep. Shortly after midnight, she was suddenly awakened by the sound of a screen door closing, and steps crossing the porch.
The thought that perhaps Jack was ill immediately flashed across Desiré’s mind. Throwing on a kimono, she hurried to the door. Down the walk which led to the street, through the gate which had been left part way open, and along the road walked—Priscilla!
No mistaking, even in the shadows, that plump childish form. Where was she going? Without stopping to do more than catch up the child’s coat, and her own which hung beside the door, Desiré followed her. Not wanting to call lest she should waken the neighborhood, she had to run to catch up to her sister; for Priscilla had quickened her pace as she approached the end of the road and turned onto the main street. Coming abreast with her at last, Desiré took the child’s arm; and, stooping to look at her face, was startled to see that her eyes, though open, were unseeing. Shaking with fright, Desiré asked softly—
“Where are you going, Prissy?”
“To the Grand Hotel,” was the prompt and surprising reply.
“But, darling,” protested the older girl, “it’s night, and everybody is in bed and asleep.”
“I’m going to sleep there. I’ve always wanted to.”
Then Desiré realized in a flash that Priscilla must be walking in her sleep. She remembered now that Mother had once spoken of her doing it when she was a very little girl and had become greatly excited over something. The splendors of the hotel must have been on her mind as she went to sleep.
How to get the child back without arousing her was a problem; she had heard that sleepwalkers must not be wakened suddenly.
“Well, dear,” she said quietly, “it’s getting cool. Let’s put on our coats before we go any farther.”
Priscilla stopped obediently, and, after both girls had put on their coats, Desiré took the little girl’s arm and turned her gently around, beginning a low monologue as she did so.
“You’re going in the wrong direction; we must go this way. Soon we’ll be there. Just down this street. We must be very quiet so no one will hear us. Step softly. Quiet!”
Leading, coaxing, hushing, Desiré finally got her sister into the house without waking any one, and settled her upon the living-room couch; for she dared not trust her out of her sight again that night.
“Now you’re all right,” she whispered, removing the child’s coat. “Isn’t that a lovely bed?”
“Yes,” breathed Priscilla, curling up under the blanket.
Noiselessly Desiré drew a big rocking chair close to her sister’s side, propped her feet up on the edge of the couch, and with the two coats spread over her, prepared to spend the rest of the night. No one must know of this escapade. Mrs. Chaisson would be distressed at not having awakened; Jack would be disturbed at having slept so soundly, and perhaps disapprove of her not calling him; and old Simon would be troubled by the idea of what might have happened. Also, Priscilla would probably be made nervous. Too excited to sleep, she dozed, dreamed, started, and wakened again until the first far-away call of a robin pierced the faint grey dawn. Immediately one in a tree beside the cottage answered; then a cock crowed; a song sparrow began its short sweet strains; and the day of the great adventure had really begun.
“Prissy,” she whispered, a little later, bending over the child.
The blue eyes opened lazily.
“Let’s get dressed, Prissy, and surprise Mrs. Chaisson by having the table set and things started before she wakens.”
“All right,” agreed the little girl, sitting up; “but—but—how did I get here?”
“You were rather restless; so I brought you out here with me—” began Desiré.
“And you slept in the chair! Oh, you must besotired, Dissy. Why did you do it?”
“I’m all right, dear. Never mind about it. Don’t say anything of it toany one!”
“Why?” asked Priscilla, wondering at her sister’s earnestness.
“Because Jack might be afraid I was too tired to start out today, and—”
“Oh, are we really going this morning?” demanded Priscilla, her mind immediately occupied with the exciting prospect.
“Yes; and it’s going to be a glorious day.”
The sound of their voices roused the others; and while breakfast was being prepared, and the house set in order—for Desiré would not leave their hostess any extra work—Jack got the team and wagon ready for departure. At nine o’clock, after reluctant and affectionate farewells had been exchanged, Jack gathered up the reins. Beside him sat Desiré, and directly back of them on little stools were Priscilla and René.
“Now, remember,” repeated Mrs. Chaisson, handing a lunch basket to Desiré, “that this is your home whenever you are in Yarmouth, or any other time you need one. And whenever you can, let me hear how you’re getting on. We’ll be thinking of you all the time.”
“Thank you,” said Desiré, kissing Mrs. Chaisson affectionately, and adding for the tenth time—“You’ve been so very good to us.”
“We shall never forget it,” said Jack, tightening the reins; and Dolly and Dapple, moving away from the gate, put an end to the farewells.
No one saw, hidden away among the maple saplings, scrub pine, and underbrush which covered the field beside the house, the bulky figure of a man. Neither did they hear softly muttered words of anger and revenge.
After they had left Yarmouth behind and were jogging along the road back over the same route they had covered on the train the day before, Desiré turned sidewise in the seat to inspect once more the interior of their “store.” At the back was their trunk, and next to it their box; and on either side, reaching to the very top of the wagon, shelves tightly packed with jars, cans, rolls of material. The small tent which they had bought on their way out of town was laid along the floor at one side.
“I must get acquainted with all the stock,” she observed; “so I’ll be able quickly to find what people want.”
“The first time we stop, you can look things over,” replied Jack. “You’d lose your balance and be rolling out if you tried to do it while we’re moving.”
The younger ones laughed hilariously. They were in high spirits now, and even Jack felt a thrill of excitement under his sober, staid manner.
Up and down the long hills they drove, past numberless lakes and ponds, in and out of woods sweet with the odor of sun-warmed pine, and across rivers whose red mud flats made a vivid splash of color on the landscape.
“So many, many little bodies of water,” murmured Desiré.
“The ground is so uneven,” explained Jack, “that the water settles and forms lakes.”
“Why are the river banks so wide, and so very muddy?” asked Priscilla, leaning on the back of the seat.
“Out there,” answered Jack, waving his arm toward the West, “is the Bay of Fundy, a big, windy, rough body of water, an arm of the Atlantic Ocean. This bay has huge tides, rising in some places to a height of fifty or seventy feet. When the tide is high, the water rushes into all the rivers on this side of the country and fills them to overflowing; then all these banks are covered up. The tide comes twice a day; so you see the flats have no time to dry out.”
Through Brazil, Lake Annes, and Hectanooga they had passed without stopping, and then the children began to get hungry. Jack drew up to the side of the road in the open country, and stopped in the shade of a huge oak tree. There they ate the lunch which Mrs. Chaisson had put up for them, and rested a while, breathing in deep breaths of clover-scented air.
“See the chipmunk, René,” said Jack, pointing to a little animal who was regarding them doubtfully from the trunk of a nearby tree. “See the stripes along his back? Well, once upon a time, many years ago, a wonderful being called Glooscap lived up on Cape Blomidon. He was half god and half man, and tried to make Nova Scotia a very happy, safe place to live in. But there were wicked witches who lived here also, and they wanted to do all kinds of harm. The strongest of them was called Gamona, and any animal who was caught by her was killed or shut up in some cave or hole. One day little Charlie Chipmunk disobeyed his mother and went too far away from home. Suddenly, while he was nibbling at a most delicious nut, he felt himself picked up in terrible sharp claws. What was it his mother had told him to do if he ever got into danger? Alas! He couldn’t remember, and the creature, at whose face he dared not look, was carrying him away so, so fast! Some name he should call. Whose name? Like the lightning which sometimes made their hollow-tree home bright as day, it flashed into his mind.
“‘Glooscap!’ he squeaked.
“Such a tiny, trembling cry reached nowhere at all in that great big forest, yet Glooscap heard it and came to help the little fellow.
“‘Let my child go!’ he ordered, in a voice which, though not very loud, seemed to fill the whole land with its power.
“Gamona ground her teeth with anger. She knew she must obey, yet how she hated to let such a nice plump chipmunk go. Slowly she opened her hand just a little bit, then a little bit more; but the space was not quite wide enough for fat little Charlie. Her long sharp claws scraped his back as he wiggled out, and made long dark scratches. Ever since that day the chipmunk has worn those stripes down the middle of his back.”
“I c’n see ’em jes’ as plain,” observed René.
“Come on,” proposed Priscilla, “see if he’ll eat these crusts.”
“Shouldn’t we have stopped at some of the places we passed?” ventured Desiré, hesitatingly. She did not want to seem critical of Jack.
“Simon had no names on his list before Saulnierville; and I thought he probably knew the ropes better than we.”
“Shan’t we take on any new customers, then?” Desiré asked anxiously. She was so eager to make a huge success of this strange business.
“Surely, if we can; but the places we passed are so close to Yarmouth that I felt the city would get all their trade,” replied Jack, taking the huge red clover top that René had presented him, and sticking it in Desiré’s black curls. “I hope to get to Church Point in the morning.”
“Then we’d better get started now,” decided Desiré, getting up and shaking off the grass and leaves which the children had thrown upon her in their play.
None of them were accustomed to constant riding, and the afternoon seemed very long. The novelty of the situation and the scenery had worn off, and they were acutely conscious of cramped muscles.
“Can’t I get out and walk for a while?” asked Priscilla, as they approached Meteghan.
“I’d thought we’d stop up here on the main street for a while to see if anyone wants to buy anything,” said Jack, in reply to Desiré’s questioning look; “so if you will follow uscarefully, you may get out here. But be sure to keep us in close sight, and don’t go wandering off.”
He stopped the horses, and Priscilla scrambled out amid clamors of René to go with her.
“No, Renny,” said Desiré, “you come and ride in front between Jack and me. Won’t that be fun?” pulling him across the back of the seat. But he continued to fret and cry until Jack said sternly:
“René, we’ve had enough of that. Stop it at once or go into the back of the wagon by yourself. You’re too big a boy to act like a baby.”
The child looked at his brother, and quickly recognizing the determination and force in the serious gaze bent upon him, set about controlling himself. Jack evidently meant business when he spoke in that tone. In their anxiety to compose René before they entered the town proper, they temporarily forgot about Priscilla. Like a flash, Desiré turned to look back.
“Jack!” she gasped, “I don’t see Prissy!”
The boy stopped the horses at once, and for a moment scanned the empty road in consternation.
Turning the team, they started back. Dapple and Dolly lagged along, heads down; they were tired, and it was close to supper time.
Jack and Desiré peered into the bushes and trees on either side of the road for a glimpse of a red coat. Around a bend, among the trees far back from the road, they finally saw what they sought. Stopping the wagon, they watched for a moment to see what she was doing. Intently, apparently without thought of anything else, she was stealthily following a small black and white animal. Before they could shout a warning, she suddenly darted forward and seized the little creature. Out of her hands it twisted, filling the air with a strong, unpleasant odor; then it disappeared into the dense woods.
“Oh!” groaned Jack.
“Priscilla!” called Desiré sharply.
The child looked up, and began coming toward them.
“Stand right where you are,” directed Jack, when she reached the edge of the clearing. “Don’t come any nearer. What on earth possessed you to meddle with a wood pussy?”
“I—I thought it was a kitten,” faltered the little girl, thoroughly frightened.
“If you’d followed us closely, as Jack told you, you wouldn’t have gotten into trouble,” said Desiré severely. “What can we do with her, Jack?”
“I’ll get a pail of water from that pond, while you find fresh clothing; then I’ll carry the things over to the woods. She’ll have to go behind that clump of scrub pine and take off her clothing, make up the garments into a bundle, throw it as far into the woods as she can, then bathe and put on fresh things,” replied Jack, taking a pail and starting down the road toward a small, but deep, pool of water.
“I’ll go and help her,” said Desiré, when he returned.
“Stay right where you are,” he directed quietly but firmly. “She can manage perfectly well by herself.”
He crossed the road; and Desiré, though she could not quite distinguish the words, listened to the brief, curt orders he issued to the unfortunate little girl. Then he returned and stood leaning against the side of the wagon. René had dozed off, and Desiré laid him on the seat.
“This is one phase of our adventure that we did not consider,” began Jack, after a pause. His face looked more serious, even, than usual.
“What? Prissy getting mixed up with a wood pussy?” laughed Desiré.
“No. The problem of discipline. The free and lazy life is going to let the youngsters get a bit out of hand, I’m afraid.”
“René’s only a baby,” said Desiré reassuringly. “We should have no trouble managing him. Of course Priscilla is rather difficult at times; she goes from one extreme to another so quickly. You never know exactly what she will do next. At home, I sometimes sent her to bed; but that would be rather difficult in a wagon. But she’s a good little thing, and we’ll do the best we can. You mustn’t worry about it, Jack,” concluded Desiré, bending over to touch his thick brown curls.
He caught her hand in his and held it until Priscilla appeared from among the trees, freshly clothed, and swinging the empty pail in her hand.
Without a word Jack helped her into the wagon and they headed once more for the town. The sun had sunk below the horizon; the woods were getting dim; and the sky was a soft rose and gold when they entered Meteghan. Surely the whole population must be abroad, so filled were the streets with people all headed toward the church.
“What do you suppose is going on?” asked Desiré, viewing the scene rather wistfully.
“I don’t know,” replied Jack, pulling the wagon into a free space between two other vehicles. Almost immediately a tall, awkward youth sauntered over to them.
“Where’s old Simon?”
Jack explained, adding, “What’s doing here?”
“Pie social,” was the laconic reply. “Better go.”
“Where is it held?” asked Desiré, leaning out and smiling down into his keen grey eyes.
“Church basement; it’s for the benefit of the church. Costs you a pie to get in.”
At this point, a companion called to the boy, and he strolled away.
“Like to go?” asked Jack, who had not been unobservant of Desiré’s eager interest.
“How could we? We haven’t any pies.”
“There must be some place to buy them. Surely some enterprising person would foresee the market. Let’s look around a bit.”
He tied the horses to a post and locked the doors. René was wide awake by this time, and eager for new adventures; so the four, Priscilla still silent, walked along the streets of the little town until they found a place bearing a sign—“Pies for sale.” Here they purchased four pies, and turned their steps toward the church. At the door a pretty girl took their donations, and they were allowed to enter. Along the sides of the little basement were rough board counters loaded with pies of every size and variety. One could buy whatever one desired, from a whole pie to a small slice.
“We’re like the Chinese,” smiled Jack, as they stood eating pieces of custard pie; “dessert first, then more substantial food.”
The pretty girl who had been at the door now approached them, and smiling at Jack, said—“We’re going to dance here tonight after all the pies are sold. Hope you will all stay.”
“I’m sorry, but we shall not be able to,” he replied courteously. “I have old Simon’s wagon out there, and can’t leave it so long.”
“Oh, we heard about the young man who was going to take Simon’s route. My folks know him real well. He often puts the wagon in our barn and stays all night at our house. Why—wait a minute.”
She darted off, and returned almost immediately with a short, thick-set man, who looked like a farmer.
“This is my father, Jean Riboux,” she said. “I’m Prudence.”
“My name is Wistmore,” replied Jack, shaking hands; “and these are my sisters, Desiré and Priscilla; and my little brother René.”
“Pleased to know you, both for yourselves and for old Simon,” responded the man, with unmistakable cordiality. “You must make free at our place, same as he did. Drive over, put up the team, and stay all night.”
Though Jack protested, the man would hear of no refusal, and ten minutes later they turned into a nearby farmyard. Jean took the horses away from Jack, and sent the Wistmores into the house to his wife who had come to the door to meet them.
“Your husband and daughter insisted upon our coming here for the night,” said Jack, after introductions had been made; “but I think it is entirely too much. There are so many of us—”
“There’s always a welcome here for any friends of old Simon’s,” was Mrs. Riboux’s quiet reply; “and we have plenty of room. We were sorry to hear of his bad luck; but then, it turned out well for you,” looking at the little family curiously.
“Yes, the opportunity to take the route came just as we were looking for something for the summer,” said Desiré, smiling shyly at their hostess.
“Oh, then you’re not goin’ to keep it regular?”
“That can not be decided,” contributed Jack, “until we see how things go.”
As they gathered around the table for supper, the boy who had told them about the Pie Social slid into one of the chairs and grinned at Desiré.
“Didn’t think you’d see me again so soon, did you?”
“That’s Ormand, Orrie for short,” explained Prudence, who sat beside Jack right across the table from them.
“I guessed who you people were as soon as I laid eyes on Dapple and Dolly; and I knew you’d turn up here finally.”
The conversation of the elders turned to crops, and continued throughout the meal, while the younger people talked of the coming dance.
“Now,” said Mrs. Riboux to Desiré, as they left the table, “why don’t you put the little fellow to bed and go to the dance with my boy and girl? I’ll watch out for him,” as Desiré hesitated and looked at Jack. “All ages go to these socials, so your sister could go along too,” she added, as the Wistmores started up the long flight of stairs to their rooms.
“I’ll put René to bed while you dress up a bit,” offered Jack, taking the little boy by the hand, and preparing to leave Desiré.
She detained him, however, and asked in a low tone, “What about—?” motioning toward the door of her room, which Priscilla had entered ahead of her.
“Trot on into that room across the hall, Renny,” directed Jack, starting him in the right direction; “and see how nearly ready for bed you can get before I come.”
“Although she is far too young for dances,” he continued, “since it is the custom here for girls of her age to attend them, I should have allowed her to go; but in the light of this afternoon’s escapade, I think she should be deprived of the pleasure. Don’t you?”
“Y—e—s; I suppose so; but I’m afraid she’ll make a fuss, for she expects to go. And I do hate to disappoint her.”
Without replying, Jack stepped into the room where his younger sister was standing before an old-fashioned mirror combing her hair.
“Priscilla,” he began quietly, “you weren’t counting on going to the dance; were you?”
“Yes, I am,” she retorted quickly, turning to face him. “You heard Mrs. Riboux say that girls of my age go.”
“That is not the point at all. What about this afternoon’s disobedience?”
“It wasn’t my fault that I met that awful animal,” she muttered, half under her breath.
“You are being purposely stupid, Priscilla. You know very well that you were deliberately disobedient in not following the wagon as I told you to. If you can’t obey, we shall all have a miserable summer. To impress that fact on your mind, you must stay right here in your room until we come back; that is, unless René wants something.”
Jack crossed the hall to his own room, and Desiré looked pityingly on her sister, who had thrown herself into a chair beside the window and was giving way to tears. There was no use trying to reason with Priscilla when the child was in one of these moods; so she went about her own preparations for the evening, in silence; but considerable of her own pleasure was taken out of the prospect.
Before leaving, she stooped over the big chair in which the little girl crouched, put her arms around her, and kissed her affectionately without speaking. Priscilla also said nothing, but she returned the kiss; and Desiré, recognizing the act as the beginning of a return to normal conditions, felt happier about leaving her.
Ormand and Prudence Riboux were evidently very popular among the young folks of the country; and they introduced their guests to so many boys and girls that the Wistmores were never at a loss for partners.
“Wasn’t itfun!” cried Desiré joyously, as she said goodnight to Jack in the dim upper hall, lighted only by their two candles. “Didn’t you have a good time?”
“Yes, I did.”
“And just think, we’ve made some new friends already. I like the Riboux family.”
“So do I; they’re fine people,” agreed Jack absentmindedly. He was thinking about tomorrow’s trip into the Clare District. That was going to be the hardest part of the route, going through their old home and its neighboring towns.
“Jack!” cried Desiré, as she entered her room. “Prissy’s gone!”
“Gone!” echoed Jack, staring blankly around the room. “Where could she possibly go?”
“I don’t know; but you see she isn’t here.”
There were few places to look. Jack peered under the big bed, while Desiré looked in the clothes press and a deep chest.
“What shall we do?” she whispered, twisting her hands together and trying to force back the tears. “Is René in your room?” as a sudden thought occurred to her.
With two steps, Jack crossed the hall and stuck his head into the room opposite.
“Yes; he’s in bed.”
Mrs. Riboux, sensing that something was wrong, came out of her room, followed by her husband. Their exclamations brought Prudence and Ormand to join the group. A few minutes of excited consultation resulted in Mr. Riboux going out to notify the authorities that a child was missing.
While the women searched the house from top to bottom, Jack and Ormand, aided by the feeble rays of a lantern, looked about the barns and yard. A group of men and boys from the town were soon scouring the nearby woods, and Desiré, who had returned to her room after the fruitless trip through the various rooms, could see the moving lights and hear occasional shouts.
The forced inaction maddened her. If there were onlysomethingshe could do besides wait. What danger might not Priscilla be in while she stood helpless here?
After a long time Mr. Riboux, followed by Jack and Ormand, crossed the yard, and she ran downstairs hoping for news. Her brother merely shook his head gravely when they met in the kitchen where Mrs. Riboux was making coffee and setting out a lunch for the men who were still in the woods. One by one they straggled in, reporting no luck at all.
Desiré’s own acute distress was increased every time she looked at Jack’s stern, set face. Well she knew by the deep lines between his eyes that he was blaming himself for Priscilla’s disappearance.
Although it had been a great relief to have René sleep through the first excitement, now it was a distinct pleasure to hear his voice from upstairs and be able to run up and see what he wanted. At least it provided something todo.
“I’m coming,” called Desiré, stopping in her room to get a lamp.
“Don’t want you,” replied René rudely, as she entered. “Want Prissy. She was going to catch the mouse,” he added.
“The mouse,” repeated his sister in bewilderment, feeling his head to see if he were feverish.
“Yes,” said the little boy, jerking fretfully away from her and pointing to the corner behind the bed.
There lay Priscilla, curled up on the floor, fast asleep, with Polly, the big grey house cat, clasped tightly in her arms. The animal blinked at the light and uttered a loud “Me-o-w!”
Desiré, together with Jack who had by that time followed her, stood speechless, looking down at the sleeping child.
“I want to know if she caught that mouse,” demanded René in positive tones.
At that moment Priscilla, aroused by the sound of voices, opened her eyes, a bit bewildered by the sudden awakening. She looked blankly from one to another, her gaze finally centering on Jack’s face.
“I didn’t disobey you,” she said. “René called me because he was frightened of a mouse. You said I might leave the room if he wanted anything.”
“But what are you doing down here on the floor, darling?” asked Desiré softly; for Jack could not speak.
“I got Polly and sat down here by the mouse’s hole so’s she could catch him when he came out again; and we all kept so quiet I guess we went to sleep.”
Jack picked the little girl up, carried her to the room across the hall, and held her close for a moment before laying her on the bed.
“Both of you get to sleep as soon as you can,” he directed. “I’ll go down and tell the family she’s found.”
“Is Jack angry at me?” inquired Priscilla, sleepily.
“Not a bit, dear. We thought you were lost. Everybody has been looking all over for you, out in the barn, in the woods, and—”
“And here I was all the time,” giggled the child, wholly unconscious of having been the cause of great anxiety and effort.
Along the shore, the next morning, as the Wistmores started out after parting reluctantly with the Riboux family, were hundreds of gulls looking for food, and the air was filled with their harsh croaking cries. Out on the blue waters floated others, at rest on the ripples. In the meadows herds of black and white cows wandered about, cropping the grass heavy with dew, their bells tinkling constantly as they sought for choicer tidbits.
“Before we get to Saulnierville we make our first stop,” said Desiré, consulting the list she had taken from Jack’s pocket.
“We’ll be there shortly.”
“Oh, I hope we sell just lots of stuff!” cried Priscilla, who was quite herself again.
“Yes, lots of stuff,” echoed René, grabbing Jack around the neck.
“Don’t choke brother,” laughed Desiré, loosening the embracing arms.
Before many minutes passed, they came in sight of a small grey house. An immense grey barn stood behind it, its double doors freshly painted a brilliant red. The farm was enclosed by a grey fence with double gates of pure white.
“Why don’t the gates and the doors match, I wonder,” remarked Priscilla, who had an eye for color combinations.
“I haven’t the faintest idea,” replied Jack, bringing the wagon to a stop before a path bordered with clam shells. The path led up to the front door, and another row of clam shells surrounded the house, which was built, like so many others in Nova Scotia, with overlapped shingles on one side and clapboards on the other three.
“Let the youngsters run about a bit while I go in,” directed Jack, preparing to climb over the wheel.
At this moment the sound of galloping horses on the road over which they had just come made everyone turn; and they saw another wagon, the counterpart of their own, swaying crazily from side to side as the driver urged on his excited animals.
“Runaway!” squealed René delightedly.
“They’ll hit us!” shrieked Priscilla.
Jack deftly pushed off the road into a field, and jumped from the wagon ready to be of assistance. His keen eye saw at once, however, that the approaching team was not out of control. As soon as it came abreast of the Wistmore “store” the driver pulled up with a suddenness which threw the animals on their haunches; and, leaping from his seat, he faced Jack belligerently.
“My territory!” growled the man, motioning toward the house. “What areyoudoing here?”
“You’re mistaken,” responded Jack quickly. “I have old Simon’s entire route, and this is the first stop on the list he gave me.”
“It may have been his, but it ain’t goin’ to be yours!”
“And who is going to prevent me?” inquired Jack, in even, quiet tones which Desiré knew meant that he was working hard to keep his temper under control.
“Iam. I made up my mind soon as I heard the old man was sick, that I would take this route; and nobody’s goin’ to stop me. Least of all,you,” he added, looking Jack’s slender form up and down contemptuously.
“You great—big—” began Priscilla excitedly.
“Be quiet, Prissy,” said her brother. “You and the others stand over there beside the wagon.”
As he spoke, he started in the direction of the farmhouse. Like a flash the thick-set figure was in his pathway.
“No, you don’t!” he sneered.
The two measured each other silently for a moment, standing as motionless as dogs in that last tense moment just before they spring.
Jack put out his foot to advance, and his opponent was upon him. They fell heavily to the ground, the stranger on top.
“He’ll kill him!” sobbed Priscilla, while René added his wails to hers.
“Don’t kill Jack!” he cried.
“Hush!” pleaded Desiré, her eyes wide with fright. “Say a prayer that Jack will come out all right.”
The terrified little group watched the two adversaries roll over and over, pounding, grappling, struggling. Then Jack, with a quick twist, loosened the grasp of the other and sprang to his feet. With surprising swiftness, for a man so heavy, the enemy also righted himself and again leaped upon Jack. Back and forth they swayed, locked in a close embrace, each trying desperately to keep his own footing and trip the other. At times they stood stock still waiting to get breath and strength for a renewal of the contest. Then it began all over again.