CHAPTER V.
“Ohdear! I forgot my fern-seed!” cried Nancy, as they reached Round Robin. “Why didn’t you remind me, Cicely, when we were getting the sweet grass? The clam-bake was so exciting I quite forgot about to-night.”
“I think it’s too early for fern-seed,” said Cicely. “I haven’t seen any this year. But if there is any to be found, surely it would have been on that mysterious island, where there seems to be pretty nearly everything else.”
“Including witches,” laughed Dick.
“And a buried treasure of clams, Reddy,” added Hugh.
“Perhaps Patsy will help me find some fern-seed,” said Nancy, running up the path to greet the stay-at-home. “He knows everything,I believe. He must be hungry for his dinner—Patsy, Patsy!” Nancy began to call through the woods and to give the little shrill whistle which the white cat always understood and answered with his agreeablemiaou.
But this time there was no answer. Patsy did not come. Patsy was not to be found. Not even the lure of lobster set appetizingly out for his supper, nor the tempting sound of a plate being scraped with a knife, which had hitherto been an unfailing charm, recalled the white kitten to his mistress.
What was to be done? The camp was in an uproar. Never had Patsy been out at night. It could not be allowed! The Twins went off in one direction, the boys in others. The girls scattered through woods and along the shore. Nancy knew his favorite haunts. But Patsy was not under the great beech tree where the squirrels chattered. He was not cushioned in the fragrant cedar-bushes over the wall in the country of the field-mice. The dell under the great pine told no news of him. Dick found no print of little feet in the mud of the brook, or in the sand of the bathing beach.
“Patsy! Patsy!” the woods rang with the anxious cry; the evening bird-chorus seemed to take it up with a mocking cadenza. For they had no cause to love Patsy the prowler.
Finally the Camp gave him up for the night. Nancy could hardly eat her supper she was so worried. “I shall never see my kitten again!” she wailed. “The foxes will get him. Or he will tumble into the sea and be drowned. Or he may stray off into the deep woods and become a wild cat!”
“You needn’t worry,” soothed her mother. “Patsy can take care of himself, like any native. I’m sure of that.”
“But he never was out alone all night,” lamented Nancy. “And this is Midsummer Eve, of all times! Who knows what may happen to him?”
“If Patsy is a fairy cat he will surely be safe,” Cicely comforted her cousin. This thought alone seemed to give Nancy a little hope. She forgot all about fern-seed and the charms she had intended to try on this magic night. After supper she and Cicely retired early to their tent in the Fairy Ring.
“What a fuss about a cat!” thought some of the campers. But most of them were as sorry as could be. For they loved the beautiful Patsy.
“I sha’n’t sleep all night,” Nancy declared.
“Nonsense!” Cicely retorted, being a practical common-sense person. “What good will that do Patsy?”
“He might come home in the night,” said Nancy dubiously.
“Well, if he does, he will be sure to tell you,” said Cicely sleepily. And that was the last she knew for a long time.
In the middle of the night, Cicely suddenly opened her eyes and sat up in bed. The woods outside were very still; but something was moving in the tent.
“Nancy! Are you asleep?” whispered Cicely. The moon shone in through the door-flap and Cicely saw her cousin creeping mysteriously about the floor. “What is the matter, Nancy?” asked Cicely again.
“I’m trying to find my moccasins. I’m going out to look for Patsy. I’m sure I can find him in the moonlight,” Nancy answered inthe same whisper. “I can’t stand it, Cicely!”
“But it’s the middle of the night!” Cicely’s voice faltered. “Wait till morning, Nancy, do.”
“I can’t wait till morning,” Nancy said; and Cicely knew she had been crying by the sound of her voice. “I must go now.”
“Then I’ll go too,” sighed Cicely, loyal, though her heart balked at the idea of braving this American wilderness in the dead of night.
The two girls slipped moccasins on their bare feet and threw on their dressing-gowns; then stole out of the tent into the moonlight, which silvered everything with a magic touch. The whole lit-up world looked wonderfully beautiful. But the shadows were blacker than ever, by the same charm. It did not seem like the world they knew by day.
They crept carefully by the sleeping tents. In the door of the third one stood a little figure, white and fairy-like, looking out into the woods with big eyes. “Why, it’s Anne Poole!” Nancy whispered to Cicely who clung to her hand. “She isn’t asleep, either!”
Anne joined them immediately. “You are going to look for Patsy?” she said. “I thoughtof doing that, too. But I wouldn’t have dared go alone. May I come? He is such a darling kitty!”
Nancy’s heart warmed to the Golden Girl. “Ah, do!” she said. “Let’s get out into the woods.” She felt the two girls shiver at the words. But they were both bound to the adventure. “I have a feeling that Patsy is in the woods,” whispered Nancy.
Step by step, gingerly at first, then more confidently as they grew accustomed to the shadows, the three girls walked down the path into the woods. “Patsy! Patsy!” called Nancy in the littlest of voices, so as not to waken the Camp. But nothing answered. To Anne, fresh from the City, the stillness was almostloud. She could hear her heart beat,thump thump. In the woods were strange little noises; the snapping of twigs, tiny rustles; now and then a smothered chirp. The night was not empty, but full of life that they could not see. It gave a strange feeling to know this. A hundred little eyes might be looking at them this minute! A white cat is not easily hidden. But Patsy did not appear.
nothing answeredbut nothing answered
but nothing answered
“Let’s follow the brook down to the shore,” whispered Nancy, squeezing Cicely’s hand before she let it drop; for they had to go in single file down the path. “If I don’t find him there I will go back, I promise. Patsy isn’t likely to cross the brook. Cats don’t like running water, you know.”
“Neither do fairies!” murmured Cicely,
“I was thinking of that, too,” said Nancy. But Anne Poole said: “He might be up in the top of a tree.”
They crept through the silvery meadow, along the little path that Patsy loved, for by day it was full of pleasant crawling, creeping, hopping things. The girls did not like to think of this just now. They kept calling the cat under their breath. But no Patsy answered. No little white furry shape came running to meet them, as he always did when they chanced to pass his ambush.
“We shall see him right away if he is here,” said Nancy eagerly, as they came out on the shore, almost as bright as day in the moonlight. Here the brook trickled down over the rocks in a baby waterfall, a favorite spot ofPatsy’s, where he was accustomed to vary his hunting trips with a drink. But no Patsy was there, and Nancy gave a groan. “I give up!” she said.
Just then Cicely clutched her cousin’s arm and drew her back behind a screen of elder bushes. At the same moment Anne seized her hand. “There is somebody under that tree!” she whispered.
Sure enough. Under a drooping fir tree a figure was crouched, her knees drawn up to her chin. By her side was a bundle.
“It looks like a witch!” murmured Nancy. And Cicely thought so too. But Anne knew better. “It’s the Indian woman,” she said, “Sal Seguin.”
“So it is!” The girls stared. And Anne had a dreadful thought. “Maybe she has Patsy in that bundle. Maybe she took him for his beautiful fur!” But she did not tell this thought to Nancy.
The old woman sat with her shawl drawn over her head, apparently dozing. The girls watched her, without moving—five, perhaps ten minutes. Then Sal Seguin stirred andglanced over her shoulder, almost as if she felt someone was looking at her. Presently she got up and went down to the water’s edge, taking her bundle with her. They saw her get into her canoe and paddle silently away towards the Harbor. Her skilful strokes made no sound.
“What do you suppose she was doing down here?” asked Cicely, the first to speak.
“I hope she hasn’t got Patsy in that bundle!” shivered Anne, unable to conceal her fear any longer.
“Patsy! Oh, she couldn’t keep him in there!” cried Nancy. “He is too full of life and temper. You would know if you had ever tried to put him in his traveling basket, Anne.”
But Anne thought about that silky white fur, and was not convinced.
They did not need the North Star, or the bright Cassiopea’s Chair that stood over the camp, to show them the way back. The path was as plain as day. The thought of that old woman behind them made them glance over their shoulders now and then asthey crept silently back up the hill, and perhaps made them walk a little faster.
“I wish Beverly had been here,” said Nancy when they were almost at the top of the slope. “Perhaps she would have dared to speak to the Indian and ask if she had seen Patsy.”
“Beverly is sound asleep,” said Anne. “Nothing seems to disturb her. I tumbled over my camp-stool, but she didn’t hear.”
“Thank you for coming,” said Nancy, touching Anne’s hand as they parted at the Fairy Ring.
“I’m sorry we didn’t find him,” said Anne earnestly. “Maybe he will come yet.”
Nancy shook her head. “No,” she said, “I haven’t any hope now.”
At breakfast the three girls came in looking rather pale and very sleepy. Patsy was still missing. They could hardly make the others believe that they had really gone down the pasture by moonlight. And when they told about Sal Seguin, Dick insisted that they must have been dreaming. But when they mentioned Sal’s bundle, Hugh thought, as Anne had done, about Patsy’s white fur. “Iwish we had never seen that old Indian!” he said.
Nancy had stolen away as soon as possible to make a last despairing search for her pet. And while the others were still talking about the adventure of the night before, questioning Cicely and Anne, as they wiped the breakfast dishes, the Twins set up a shout.
“Here she is! Nancy has Patsy in her arms.”
Breathless Nancy was toiling up the slope, carrying the great ball of fluff. Her eyes were shining and she laughed out loud with happiness as she shouted “I’ve got him! I’ve got him! The prodigal son!”
“Where did you find him, Nancy?” asked Anne dropping her dish towel and running to stroke the soft white fur of the blinking cat.
“Right in the middle of the path!” said she. “I went down the same way we took last night, to the shore. And there he lay just above the spot where we saw Sal Seguin, under a little juniper bush, right in the path. He just lay there, too tired to move. He couldn’t drag himself up the slope, but he answered whenI called. Such a weary, worn, limp cat! What do you suppose he had been doing to get so tired? Where do you suppose he had been all night?”
“Nobody knew where Kilmeny had been”
said Cicely, quoting the old ballad about the girl who went to visit the Fairies.
“Did you go off with the Fairies, Patsy?” asked Nancy, putting her face close to that of the white cat.
“Mi-aou!” cried Patsy dolorously.
“I believe he did!” whispered Nancy to Cicely Vane.
“I’m glad he’s safe,” said Anne, and the white cat licked her cheek feebly. He was almost too tired to be polite.
“Anyway, Sal Seguin didn’t carry him off,” said Hugh. “That was what I suspected.”
“Perhaps she did, and he found his way back,” suggested Anne. “That was whatIwas afraid of, too.”
“I believe he was there all the time and we didn’t see him,” declared Nancy. “I believe he found the fern-seed that we missed, ate it, and became invisible.”
Anyway, wherever he had been, Patsy slept all that day on Nancy’s bed, the most exhausted kitten ever seen. And he never told the Club what adventures he had experienced on Midsummer Eve.
Hugh and Victor met Captain Sackett that morning when they went to the Harbor for the mail, and they asked him if he had seen an old Indian woman in the neighborhood.
The Captain scratched his head thoughtfully. “Why yes,” said he, in his nasal drawl, “did see an old woman in a shawl early this mornin’, when I went haulin’. Yes, she had a bundle in her canoe. I guess it was grass, or herbs or somethin’. She’s quite a character. But I haven’t seen her around for some time till this mornin’. They say her tribe owned this whole shore once. But not in my time, nor in my father’s or grandfather’s, I guess. The Indians were treated pretty mean, sometimes.”
“Where do you suppose she is now, Cap’n?” queried Hugh. The Captain shrugged his shoulders. “Who knows?” said he. “We can’t keep tabs on everything that goes onalong this coast full of islands. I guess I’ll run up and take a look at Idlewild this afternoon. Mr. Poole asked me to kinder keep an eye on it. Say, has the little girl been up there yet? Little Anne, I mean?”
The boys said No, she hadn’t had time yet. The old man sighed. “I hope she’ll come to see me too,” he said. “But I don’t want you to tell her so.”
Hugh laughed. “Whatever you tell her, she is likely to do the opposite thing,” he said. “She’s a spoiled kid, Cap’n.”
Again the Captain sighed. “I guess she is,” he said.
But Victor put in a good word for the newcomer. “She’s awfully fond of animals, anyway,” he said.
“A little cat!” laughed Hugh.