CHAPTER VIIIEND OF THE SEARCH
When Grace and Naki had finally disappeared Bab put her head down on Ruth’s shoulder and cried bitterly.
“I am so frightened!” she sobbed. “If only I were lost instead of my little sister! Mother always trusts me to look after Mollie. I ought not to have let her go off alone!”
Ruth wisely allowed Bab to have her cry out, before she said: “Bab, dear, remember father said he relied on us to keep cool heads and strong hearts in any case of emergency. Now let’s gather ourselves together. Let’s say over and over again: ‘We will find Mollie! We will find Mollie!’”
Bab braced up at once and repeated quietly, “Certainly we will find her, Ruth dear.”
Both girls were looking toward the woods. It was not yet night, but the dusk was falling quickly. Suddenly, off through the trees, the two girls distinctly saw a light that shone on a level with their eyes. Once, twice, then again, it sparkled through the underbrush.
“What is it?” Bab breathed faintly.
Ruth shook her head. “I don’t know,” she answered, under her breath.
The light advanced toward them; then it drew back again, never ceasing to sparkle. It seemed to be beckoning to them.
“Oh, Ruth,” cried Barbara, “could it be a signal from Mollie?”
“How could it, Barbara, dear?” Ruth replied.
Both girls waited a little longer. The light came again. It seemed almost to call to them. Barbara started to her feet impatiently. “I must go and see what it is,” she declared.
“Wait a minute, Bab!” pleaded Ruth. It was second nature with Ruth to be ready for emergencies. Rapidly she tore from a pad in her leather knapsack a sheet of paper and wrote on it: “Bab and I are going into the woods at the left. Follow the trail of the paper I shall drop as we walk.”
Like a flash she pulled off her white petticoat, and tied it to a bush near the place where she and Bab had been sitting. The skirt fluttered and swung in the breeze. Beneath it, under a small stone, Ruth placed her note.
“Come on, Bab!” she cried. “Let’s be off!”
Barbara bounded ahead; Ruth closely followed, leaving behind her a trail of white paper which she tore into bits as she ran.
The light ahead of the two girls beckoned them deeper and deeper into the forests. They must have followed it for more than a mile. Ruth’s paper was giving out. Suddenly the light dipped to the ground and was gone!
At the same moment, Ruth and Barbara heard a sizzling crackling noise. A tongue of flame darted up between two distant trees, and a warm glow like that of a camp fire lit up the shadows of the forest.
Ruth and Bab rushed to the spot. In the center of a small open space some one had lighted a fire. Sitting on a bank of autumn leaves, slowly rubbing her eyes was a girl. A scarlet coat caught Bab’s eyes; then a tangle of yellow curls.
“It’s my Mollie!” she cried, springing toward her and gathering her in her arms.
“Why, Bab,” asked Mollie sleepily, “when did you and Ruth find me? I must have been dreaming. I did not hear you make the fire. How did you happen to light a fire before you awakened me?”
The girls stared at Mollie. “Build a fire?” they queried in amazement. “Surely, Mollie, you made the fire yourself.”
Mollie shook her head. “How could I possibly light a fire?” she inquired. “I haven’t a match.” Then she smiled faintly. “I am notenough of an ‘early settler’ to know how to make a light by striking two flints together. But please take me home.” The little girl was too tired to care about anything beyond the blessed fact that she had been found.
It was Bab and Ruth who were overcome with the mystery of the dancing light that led them through the forest straight to Mollie. And who could have started the fire, that now roared and blazed, lighting the woods with its many tongues of flame. What did it all mean? The mystery of it all gave them long, creepy thrills.
Barbara helped Mollie to her feet. The child was so stiff she could hardly move, but as she arose something red dropped to the ground. Ruth picked it up. “Why, it is Grace’s sweater!” she exclaimed. “I am so glad you found it, Mollie, before you went for your walk. What a blessed thing you had it to keep you warm!”
“Grace’s sweater! What are you talking about, Ruth? I didn’t have it with me. I was nearly frozen. You or Bab must have brought it with you. I found it over my shoulders when I awoke,” protested Mollie.
Ruth and Bab said nothing. There was nothing to be said. It was all a puzzle! Where was the clue to the mystery?
The two girls were leading poor, tired Molliethrough the thick tangle of shrubs, along which Ruth’s bits of torn paper gleamed white and cheerful pointing their pathway home. Even Mollie smiled on seeing them.
“If only I had remembered to play ‘Hop-o-my-thumb,’ Ruth, dear,” Mollie whispered, “I needn’t have created all this trouble. Do you think Miss Sallie will ever forgive me?”
“Indeed she will,” Ruth assured her. “She will be so happy to see you again, you poor, tired Mollie, she’ll forget to scold!”
By this time the girls could hear the noise of voices and the beating of bushes. “Here we are!” Ruth called out cheerfully. “Don’t worry. We have found Mollie!”
Naki burst through the opening. Ceally and Grace were with him and two strange men from the farm below them on the hill.
Naki picked up Mollie in his arms as though she had been a baby, and the party trudged on to their little log cabin.
At the top of the fateful ravine they found Miss Sallie. She could bear the suspense of waiting no longer and had climbed up alone.
“Home for sure!” proclaimed Naki briefly, as he deposited Mollie, still wrapped in Grace’s red sweater, on the couch before the fire in their cosy living room.
CHAPTER IXSPIRIT OF THE FOREST
“It is perfectly incredible!” exclaimed Miss Sallie.
She and Bab were discussing Mollie’s adventure the next morning at breakfast.
“The more I try to reason out the whole thing, the more in the dark I am,” Bab answered.
“Have you talked with Mollie?” Miss Sallie inquired.
Bab nodded, and replied thoughtfully: “The truth of the matter is, Mollie knows less on the subject than the rest of us. All that she can tell is that she was sitting quietly at the bottom of the ravine, when suddenly a shower of leaves fell over her head, and she heard the noise of feet running along the bank above her. Determined to discover what had startled her, Mollie climbed up the ravine and kept on with her pursuit until she was completely lost. She must have wandered around all day. Finally she was so tired she sat down to rest. When she awoke Ruth and I had found her.”
“But Grace’s sweater! Where did it come from?” asked Miss Sallie weakly.
Ceally who entered the room at this moment, with her arms full of logs for the fire, caught the end of the conversation. She looked about her cautiously. Naki, her husband, was some distance away, cutting down the underbrush which was growing too high near their cabin.
“Miss,” whispered Ceally cautiously, “they do say there is a ghost up on that mountain. It must have been a ghost that led Miss Mollie on that lost trail. Once you strike that trail, there ain’t no way of finding your way back again, unless you follow some such clue as Miss Ruth’s bits of paper.”
“Ghosts! Utter nonsense, Ceally!” scolded Miss Sallie. But under her breath she confessed to herself: “If anything in this world could bring me to believe in ghosts it would be this mysterious occurrence.”
Ruth flew in at the door.
“Aunt Sallie,” she cried, “here is a man on horseback, with a note from Mr. Latham. He wants us to come down and spend the afternoon with him. He says he will send for us in a carriage that can come almost all the way up the hill, so we need only walk a little way. Do let’s go! Want to, Bab?” Ruth finished.
Miss Sallie looked dubious. “It is a good deal of a task, child, to go down this hill, except when we mean to stay down,” she protested.
“Oh, no, Aunt Sallie!” Ruth begged. “You know Naki goes down the hill every day, on some errand or other. I have been to Lenox twice myself and to Pittsfield once. I won’t give you and Bab these letters, unless you promise to accept. One is for Bab, from her mother; the other is for you, from father.”
Miss Stuart was reading Mr. Latham’s note.
“My sister-in-law is with me,” it read. “She joins her entreaties to Reginald’s and mine to beg our hillside fairies to come down to the earth and have afternoon tea with us. We are to have no other guests, except a few young people whom I am sure your girls will like to meet. Later on, when you condescend to spend a few weeks in Lenox, it may be a pleasure for you to know them. Certainly it will be a pleasure for them to know you.”
“The man is waiting outside for your answer,” proclaimed Ruth, dancing first on one foot and then on the other. “Here are pen and paper. Do write and let me take the note out to him.”
Miss Stuart allowed herself to be persuaded into accepting Mr. Latham’s invitation. Life on the hill was growing a bit dull for Miss Sallie. She dreaded the long trip, but Mr. Latham’s place lay between their hill and the town of Lenox.
Mollie came into the room as Ruth ran out to deliver the note of acceptance. “Who is out there?” she inquired languidly. The little girl was not yet rested from her experience of the day before.
“We are invited to the Latham place this afternoon, Molliekins!” Bab explained.
“Are you going, Miss Sallie?” Mollie asked.
Miss Stuart nodded. “Yes, I think so, child,” she declared. “It is a dreadfully long journey, but Ruth is determined to go, and I am as wax in her hands.”
“Aunt Sallie Stuart, you are no such thing!” Ruth laughed, as she returned to the little group. “I am the most obedient niece in the world. You know you liked Mr. Latham. And he has a marvelous place, with a wonderful fish pond on it. From his veranda he says you can see over into four states, New York, Connecticut, Massachusetts and Vermont!”
“Well, girls, we will start promptly after an early lunch,” Miss Stuart remarked.
“Miss Sallie,” interrupted Mollie gently, “remember I am in the guard house for the next twenty-four hours. I broke all camp regulations by being lost yesterday. So I can’t go with the party to Mr. Latham’s.”
“Nonsense, Mollie!” said Miss Stuart kindly. “I was only joking when I threatened to establishmilitary discipline in my camp. Besides, if you were disobedient, you were well enough punished for it. Don’t you wish to come with us?”
Mollie shook her head. “If you don’t mind, Miss Sallie, I would rather not,” she replied. “I am a little tired and I would rather stay quietly up here. You can count on my promise this time. I won’t go more than a yard from the cabin. Naki and Ceally will both be here to look after me.”
“I will stay with Mollie,” spoke up Bab. “I prefer not to leave her alone.”
Mollie protested energetically. “Bab, you must not stay behind with me. If you insist on doing it, I shall go with you, no matter how tired I feel. You know you are the one original lady rescuer of an airship yet on record! I was only the legs of the rescue, as I ran after Naki and Ceally. You were the brains of the whole business. Besides, you know you are simply dying to see Reginald Latham’s airship models, as well as their beautiful house and grounds. Make her go, Miss Sallie!” Mollie ended.
“I see no reason, Bab, why you shouldn’t accompany us.” Miss Sallie declared. “Naki and Ceally will look after Mollie, and an afternoon’s rest will be much better for the child than a long, fatiguing excursion.”
Mollie walked to the edge of the hill to see Miss Sallie and her charges start off on their excursion to Mr. Latham’s. Then she thankfully crept home to the little cabin and stretched herself out on her cot, with the eider down comfort drawn up to her head. The child, who was not so vigorous as Bab, was worn out from her fright and exposure. An hour later she awakened, feeling bright and rested as though she had never been lost in a strange woods.
It was a lovely, bright afternoon. Mollie could hear the leaves rustling outside, as the wind stirred them and they fluttered to the ground. The little girl had read that a swan sings a wonderful song just as he is about to die. She walked out on the porch with an odd fancy in her head. She stopped and listened again to the sound the autumn leaves made, as they swirled from the trees to the earth.
“I believe,” Mollie smiled to herself, “that the autumn leaves sing their swan song, too.” She pointed to a beautiful, golden maple leaf, that was fluttering in the air. “See, there is a leaf! It is singing its good-bye song to the tree, which has borne it all summer! The little leaf is traveling to an unknown land down under the ground.”
Mollie laughed at her own idea. It was difficult for her to keep her eyes turned away fromher ravine. She glanced up the hill. Surely she saw a figure moving there. It was a slight young creature, no larger than Mollie herself. Was it a boy or girl? It was impossible to tell, though the figure was drawing toward her.
The little girl watched with fascinated eyes. Down the ravine crept a thin, brown body. Now it looked this way, then that. Hardly touching the earth, it flew from one high rock to the other. Then it dipped into the hollow between the two hills and was gone.
This time Mollie did not stir from her veranda, but through her brain flashed the thought—the ghost at last!
In another moment she saw a black head rise up on a level with her eyes. Mollie gave a gasp of surprise, then was silent. A thin, brown creature moved softly toward her on velvet feet. Mollie hardly breathed. Never in her life had she beheld so odd, so exquisite a figure.
A girl about her own age stood before her. Her hair hung over her shoulders, black and straight. Her cheeks were a deep carmine. Her complexion was too dark to be olive, yet it was neither brown nor red. She was dressed in a thin, soft garment that fitted her closely from her bare neck to her ankles. Around her waist she had knotted a crimson scarf. On herhead she wore a fantastic wreath of scarlet autumn leaves.
The newcomer stared at Mollie. Once, like a startled fawn, she turned to flee. But Mollie was too wise to speak or to move. Reassured, the quaint visitor drew nearer.
Mollie smiled at her quietly. “Are you afraid of me?” she asked gently. “Come here, I shall not hurt you.”
Suddenly the stranger’s dark, sad little face burst into a smile. “I am not afraid,” she insisted. “I am never afraid. But is it well with you?” She spoke English, but with a strange guttural note Mollie had never heard before.
“Why should it not be well with me?” asked Mollie in surprise.
“Because,” the wood sprite answered, “you were lost yesterday in the hills.”
“How did you know?” Mollie demanded.
“How did I know?” The girl lifted her head proudly. “I know all things that take place in the woods,” she replied. “The woods are my home.”
Mollie looked thoughtful; then she spoke in a firm voice: “You know for other reasons, as well. You know I was lost because you led me away yesterday.”
The girl’s brown face crimsoned, her eyes flashed. Then she lifted her head proudly. “Iled you nowhere!” she declared. “You would follow me. No one can run as I do, or capture me when they hunt.”
“Who are you?” Mollie asked her.
“I am nobody,” the young girl replied. It seemed to Mollie she spoke sadly. But she dropped down on the steps of the porch and waited until Mollie joined her there.
Mollie put out her own soft, white hand and took the other girl’s brown fingers in her own. The hands were slender and long, with hard muscles trained to the work of the woods.
“Well,” said Mollie gently, “if Iwouldfollow you, perhaps my getting lost was my own fault. But was it quite fair of you to come each morning to our windows, and then fly away again before anyone could see you?” Mollie was only guessing at this; but it was easy to see her guess had struck home.
Her visitor turned a deeper crimson and dropped her eyes.
“I am sure you meant no harm by your morning calls,” continued Mollie smilingly. “But, if you didn’t lead me away into the woods, there is one thing I feel very sure of; you did show my friends how to find me.”
“Hush, hush!” cried the wood nymph, rising to her feet and looking around in terror, her slender body poised for flight. “Promise me,”she pleaded, “that you will not tell you have seen me, nor that I ever came here to you.” The girl dropped on her knees at Mollie’s feet. “I am an Indian girl,” she explained. “I live on Lost Man’s Mountain, but I know no one, and no one knows me. Only Naki your guide has seen me. But he, too, has Indian blood. He will not betray me. My name is Eunice. I have no other name.”
“But you cannot live alone,” Mollie protested.
The Indian girl shook her head without answering. “If I tell you,” she implored, “will you promise me by the stars never to betray me? Promise, promise, or I shall disappear and you will see me never again.”
“Oh,” Mollie answered thoughtlessly, “I promise.”
A swift change swept over the Indian girl’s face. She leaned confidingly toward Mollie, who realized for the first time what her promise meant. She was already dying to tell Bab and the other girls of her afternoon’s experience, but she vowed to herself to keep the child’s secret.
“I do not live alone,” Eunice declared. “I have a grandmother, who is an old, old Indian woman. Our hut is far back in the hills. All day I have watched and waited by your cabin, until the others went away. I wanted to see thatall was right with you. I trust you with my secret. Now, I must be far away.”
“But won’t you come again, Eunice?” begged Mollie. “Why not come and see all of us? We are only other girls like you. My sister and her friends have only gone away for a visit to the Lathams’.”
Eunice started and shook her black hair. “Latham! You must not speak the name to me!” she cried fiercely. “My grandmother says it is an evil name, and will work harm to me.”
Mollie laughed at her. “The name of Latham is nothing to you, Eunice,” she protested. “But won’t you let me thank you for leading my sister to me? You must have been the will-o’-the-wisp with the dark lantern. You must have made the fire, and—and—you must even have put Grace’s sweater over my shoulders as I lay asleep. You are my ghost!”
The Indian girl drew herself up proudly, but her dark face turned curiously white. “Yes,” she muttered, “I took the red cloak away. My grandmother says that I stole it, and Indians of royal blood do not steal. I am no ghost, I am a princess!” Eunice looked at Mollie with haughty grace.
“I did not know I was stealing,” she insisted. “I saw the soft, red thing. I did not think. I love the scarlet colors in the world.” Shetouched the crimson leaves in her hair. “When I found that I had stolen I meant to bring the cloak back. Then I saw you asleep in the woods. You looked so cold and white that I put the cloak over your shoulders to keep you warm. Now you have your own again.”
“But, Eunice,” Mollie inquired, more and more puzzled by the girl’s appearance and conversation, “are you a pure-blooded Indian? You do not look like one. Your eyes are as big and brown as my sister Bab’s, only a little darker. And your features are so fine and pretty. Then you speak such good English and your name is Eunice. Have you ever been to school?”
Eunice shook her head. “A long time a woman stayed in the tent with my grandmother and me. She taught me to speak and to read books. She comes again each winter with the snows. My teacher is part Indian and part white. My grandmother says that an Indian princess must know, these days, all that the white race knows, and she must have the knowledge of her own people as well. But I go now. You will not tell you have seen me. Then, some day when you are alone, I may return.”
“Wait a second, Eunice?” begged Mollie and disappeared inside their cabin. She came out with a lovely red silk scarf in her hand. “Take this, Eunice, it is for you!” she explained.
Eunice shook her head. “An Indian princess does not accept gifts,” she demurred.
“Oh,” laughed Mollie, throwing her gift over Eunice’s brown shoulder, “you are a proud little goose! I am sure it is a small enough gift. I want to thank you for the service you did for me in the woods.”
Ceally was stirring about in the kitchen. Like a flash the Indian girl was gone. Mollie sat on the veranda steps rubbing her eyes. Had her visitor been a real girl, or was Mollie bewitched by a brown elf?
CHAPTER XA KNOCK AT THE DOOR
The moon had come up over the tree-tops before Miss Sallie, with Ruth, Bab and Grace returned from their visit to Mr. Winthrop Latham.
“Well, you certainly have missed it, this time, Miss Mollie!” cried Bab, running into the room where Mollie sat reading. “We have had the most wonderful time, and met the most charming people. I never saw anything so beautiful as the village of Lenox. We had a splendid view of it from the tower in Mr. Latham’s house. Lenox is called a village of seventy hills, but I am sure we counted more than seventy.”
“I am truly sorry you were not with us, Mollie,” declared Miss Sallie, coming into the house with the other two girls. “But you will have plenty of opportunity for seeing what we did later on. It will not be long now, before we shall go down in the town to stay. Did you have a nice, quiet time by yourself?” Mollie felt embarrassed. She had hardly been alone. But the other girls did not give her an opportunity to answer.
“Mollie, we have the finest plan!” Ruth broke in. “We are going to have a coon hunt up on the hill. Mr. Latham says it is just the thing to do on these early autumn nights. All the people we met at his house this afternoon are to come up to supper with us to-morrow evening. Afterwards, we are to start out after Br’er Possum and Br’er Coon. Won’t it be a jolly lark?”
“I don’t approve of it, Ruth,” said Miss Sallie. “I am sure young girls never before took part in such an excursion. I shouldn’t allow it, except that Mr. Latham and his sister both assured me it was done by the best people in Lenox. Then the English ambassador’s daughters are to join you.”
Ruth looked solemnly at Bab and Grace. The girls were secretly amused at Miss Sallie’s social ambitions.
“Mollie,” Ruth explained, “we did meet twosuch nice English girls this afternoon—Gwendolin and Dorothy Morton—and an awfully funny, little man, a secretary at the German embassy. They say that ambassadors are as common in Lenox, in the season, as millionaires!”
“Did you like Reginald Latham to-day, Bab?” Mollie inquired, as the two sisters walked into their bedroom together.
“Why, yes,” admitted Bab. “I liked him as usual. He is a peaceable kind of man, but rather queer. He is too learned for me. His mother seems terribly vain of him. She does nothing but talk about his inventive skill. I believe she encourages the airship business just to get on the good side of his uncle. Mr. Winthrop Latham is simply crazy on the subject and does not seem to care about anything else. And he must have a tremendous lot of money. But Mrs. Latham, the German sister-in-law, as good as told Aunt Sallie she and her son were dreadfully poor. They had always been obliged to live on the income Mr. Winthrop Latham allowed them, since her husband lost his money. But I shouldn’t think she and her son need worry; Reginald assured me that he was his uncle’s only heir.”
“Bab,” Grace asked, joining the two sisters, “why did you spend so much time out in that shedlooking at airship models? You know you did not understand them in the least; but our host and his blessed nephew were certainly pleased at your interest. Mrs. Latham showed Aunt Sallie and Ruth and me over the house. They have an art gallery and rooms full of curios, just like a museum. The house is a perfect palace.”
“There was an older Mr. Latham once!” Ruth announced, sticking her head in from the door of her bedroom to join in the conversation. “But I don’t think he was a credit to the family. They are silent about him. I asked one of the girls we met this afternoon if Mr. Winthrop Latham and his nephew were all of the Latham family. Just as she started to tell me, Reginald Latham came up to us, and she stopped talking in a hurry.”
“Miss Ruth Stuart, I believe I was talking,” interrupted Grace severely. “Kindly allow me the floor! Mollie is most certainly not interested in the Latham family history. Who is? Nor does she care a fig for Mr. Reginald Latham and his toy balloons. But, Mollie, I was endeavoring to tell you about the wonderful curios they have in their house. The late lamented brother, we were informed, has left behind him one of the most famous collection of Indian relics in the world. If I am obliged to mention the stupid subject of family history, I must say thatthe Lathams are an old family up in this part of the country. They do not belong to the ‘newly rich.’ The queer elder brother devoted his life to the study of the history of the Indians in this part of the world, and has written a book about them.”
“Grace, have you finished making your speech?” inquired Ruth, with mock politeness. “Poor Mollie must be bored stiff with all this useless information. How did you spend the afternoon, dear? We have talked so much about coon hunts and Indian relics and the Lathams that you have had no chance to answer.”
“Oh, I took a nap!” responded Mollie, vaguely, and led the way into supper.
Late that evening, as the girls sat by the fire, they heard a sudden knocking at their cabin door. Miss Sallie, who was in bed, bounded out again. For the first time since their arrival in the woods the camping party was alone. Naki had been obliged to go down the hill on an errand. No one had dreamed of any possible danger in his absence.
The knocking continued. “Open! Open!” cried the voices of two men.
“Who on earth can they be?” Grace asked of the circle of girls. No one answered. Ceally came hurriedly in from the kitchen. Miss Sallie stood at her door.
The knocks were repeated in quick succession.
Ceally had taken the precaution, earlier in the evening, to close and bolt all the doors and windows except one. The shutters of this were open on the outside.
“Sh-sh!” whispered Bab, creeping on tiptoes to the window. Before their front door, she could dimly outline the figures of two men, who were evidently arguing and protesting about something.
“Open! Open!” cried the voices again. “We are friends, and will do you no harm.”
“Then go away at once!” Miss Sallie commanded.
There was a muffled sound outside the door. Could it be laughter? Then a voice called more roughly. “How long must we wait?”
Ruth and Bab looked at each other blankly. Miss Stuart had gone back into her own room. “What on earth shall we do? Shall we open the door?” Ruth inquired.
Mollie and Grace both shook their heads.
“Ruth,” whispered Barbara resourcefully, “your rifle is behind that door, and Naki’s big shotgun is next to it. Of course, we don’t know how to shoot either one of the guns very well at present, but, if you will hold your rifle pointed toward the door, I shall try to shoulder this heavy shotgun. Oh, I have a splendid idea!”
“Out with it, child!” ordered Ruth. “I believe the knocking on the door will keep up all night, unless we open it.”
“Who’s there?” inquired Grace, timidly, before Bab could answer.
“Friends!” responded the men on the outside.
Barbara motioned silence. “Listen to me,” she said. “We have no way of knowing if those men on the outside are friends, whatever they may say. Here is my scheme! Remember the story of the women in a town near here, who once defended their fort against an attack by the Indians, when the men were all away at work in the cornfields? The women dressed up in their husbands’ clothes and frightened the Indians away. Ruth, let’s disguise ourselves as men and then let Ceally open the door.”
“Bab, you and Ruth are both crazy!” protested Mollie, half-laughing, and half-frightened.
Bang! Bang! The blows on the door were tremendous. “If you don’t let us in, you’ll be sorry!” called one of the men.
Bab had already found an old hat of Naki’s conveniently near. Ceally, who was giggling nervously, produced a hunting jacket of her husband’s, which had seen much service. It was not clean, but Bab slipped into it, determined to see her plan through.
Nor was Barbara the only hero. While she was making her extraordinary costume, Ruth had torn down a squirrel skin, which some previous hunter had tacked on their cabin wall and twisted it around her head so that the tail hung down to one side. Then she slipped on her own leather coat, which she gave a more dilapidated appearance, by wearing it wrong side out.
Both girls got behind chairs to hide their skirts.
“Good gracious, Ruth!” giggled Bab, in spite of her excitement. “You look like Daniel Boone.”
During their preparation not a word was heard from Miss Sallie, who was closeted in her own room.
“Ceally, open the door!” cried Ruth, raising her rifle and leveling it in front of her.
Bab put her elbow on the back of her chair to steady her shotgun.
“Girls!” cried Miss Stuart, unexpectedly. “Don’t dare to open that door!”
But she spoke too late. Ceally had already drawn the heavy bolt back and the door swung aside.
There rushed into the room two men—or to be strictly truthful, two boys.
They looked first at Mollie and Grace, then atRuth and Bab. Without a word they dropped into two chairs.
“Oh, oh, oh!” they shouted. “Did you ever see anything in the world so funny? Ralph, look at Ruth!” cried Hugh.
“Ralph Ewing and Hugh Post, where did you come from?” demanded four girls’ voices together. “We took you for highwaymen.”
Bab set down her shotgun and Ruth her rifle. Both girls began pulling off their masculine disguises.
“Don’t take off those terrifying garments, Bab!” cried Ralph Ewing. “You, Ruth, should have your picture taken in that hat.”
By this time, Miss Stuart, fully dressed, with her pompadour neatly arranged appeared at the door. Highwaymen or no highwaymen, Miss Sallie had no intention of appearing before strange men without being properly dressed. Now she was mistress of herself and of the situation.
Both Huge Post and Ralph Ewing stopped laughing when they saw Miss Sallie’s face. She did not appear overpleased to see her two young friends, whose doings were fully described in the preceding volume. “The Automobile Girls at Newport.”
“Where did you come from?” she asked politely, but without enthusiasm. “And why didyou knock on our door at this time of the evening, without informing us who you were?”
“Ruth,” continued Miss Sallie severely, “what are you and Barbara doing in those clothes? Take them off at once.”
“Please, ma’am,” responded Bab meekly, but with a twinkle in her eye, “we dressed up as men to frighten the highwaymen.”
“You are enough to frighten them, I am sure,” retorted Miss Stuart scornfully.
Here, Ralph Ewing spoke in his most charming manner: “Miss Sallie, we do owe you an apology and we make it with all our hearts. We had no intention of playing any pranks when we came up the hill to see you. Several days ago we were informed that ‘The Automobile Girls’ were camping in the Berkshires. Well, Hugh and I are on our way to Boston to join Mrs. Post, and——”
“Ralph, do let me do my share of the apologizing,” interrupted Hugh. “See here, Miss Sallie, this nonsense to-night is all my fault. Ralph was dead against my pounding at the door and refusing to give our names; but I thought it would be fun to stir the girls up. I knew two such valiant girls as Ruth and Barbara would not be really frightened, even if we had been a whole band of outlaws. It was a stupid practical joke and I am ashamed of it.”
“But how did you find us, Hugh?” put in Ruth, who was embarrassed by her aunt’s lack of cordiality to their old Newport friends.
“Please, Aunt Sallie, say you’ll forgive us!” Hugh pleaded. “See how many miles we have traveled to see you. We would have been here in the broad daylight, only one of the tires in my machine would get a puncture. The man at the garage told us which hill to climb to find you. We met your guide coming down the hill, and he gave us further instructions. So here we are! Aren’t you just a little glad to see us?”
“Of course, I am,” laughed Aunt Sallie, amiably. “But there is one thing certain: you can’t get down our hill again to-night, and we have no place to offer you to sleep.”
“Is that what is preying on my hospitable aunt’s mind all this time?” cried Ruth, throwing her arms about Miss Sallie. “I thought she wasn’t her usual charming self. Of course the boys shan’t go down the hill again to-night. I don’t know where they will sleep, either; but Bab will bring her fertile brain to bear upon the situation.”
“Why, Miss Stuart!” Ralph spoke in relieved tones. “Is this why you are not pleased to see us? We expect to go down the hill a little later. On our way up we stopped at a farm house, and the people promised to take us in for the night.We’ll come back early in the morning, since Hugh and I must be off again by afternoon. Mrs. Post is waiting for us in Boston.”
“Oh, must you go so soon, boys?” pleaded Ruth. “We are planning the jolliest lark. We are to have a coon hunt up on the hill with some acquaintances we have just made in Lenox. They are to have supper with us, and are to bring up a guide and some coon dogs for our hunt later on. And you simply must stay at the cabin to-night. See, there is a lounge here in the living room, and we have plenty of quilts and steamer rugs. One of you can have the couch and the other can sleep on the floor by the fire.”
“May we, Miss Sallie?” Hugh queried.
“As you like, boys,” declared Miss Stuart, now completely restored to good humor.
“Then let’s stay by all means!” urged Ralph. “What should we expect to sleep on except the floor or the ground? This is the most effete camping party I ever saw,” he declared, looking around their cosy little cabin. “You have all the comforts of home, here!”
“Do you think you and Ralph can stay for our coon hunt, Hugh?” asked Bab.
“Oh, for sure, Barbara,” Hugh asserted. “I will fix things up with the mater for a day; but we shall have to be off the next day without fail. Now, I have an awful confession to make.”
“What is it Hugh?” Ruth demanded.
“Ralph and I are starving!” he answered. “We were so bent on getting up to your hut before it was too late, we didn’t have time to get any dinner. Could you, would you, just give us each a hunk of bread to stay our appetites?”
“You poor souls!” cried Ruth. “Come on out in the kitchen with me, Mollie. Let Bab and Grace do the entertaining. We’ll fix you some eggs and bacon in no time, the best you ever tasted. Our cook has gone to bed.”
“Let’s have a feast for everybody,” proposed Bab. “May we, Miss Sallie? I am dreadfully hungry again. I haven’t had anything to eat for at least two hours and a half.”
“Come, turn in then, everybody,” Ruth called cheerily. “Here, Bab, you undertake the Welsh rarebit and get out the pickles and crackers. Mollie, get Hugh to help you open these cans of soup. Grace, you and Ralph, set the table and talk to Aunt Sallie, while I fry my precious bacon.”
“I never heard of such an extraordinary combination of things to eat. You will ruin your digestions,” was Miss Sallie’s comment. But she ate just as much as anyone else.
At midnight the girls were at last in bed. Hugh and Ralph, both wrapped in blankets, were in blissful sleep before the camp fire. They hadscorned to accept the offer of the couch, wishing to enjoy camp life to the fullest extent. So peace followed good cheer in the hut.
CHAPTER XITHE COON HUNT
“Ere in the northern gale
The summer tresses of the trees are gone,
The woods of autumn all around our vale
Have put their glory on.”
chanted Ralph bowing low to Barbara, as she joined him in the clearing in front of their house before breakfast next morning. “See, mademoiselle, what a fine poem I have thought out for you! Behold in me the poet of the Berkshires!”
Barbara laughed. “You are a second-hand poet, I am afraid, Ralph. I happen to know that those lines were written by William Cullen Bryant. But come into breakfast and stop your poetizing. We have a busy day ahead of us.”
Ralph and Barbara found Ruth with a big sheet of paper in her hand and her brow wrinkled into a serious frown.
“We must decide at once what to have to eat at our supper party to-night. Naki is in a hurryto get off to the village, so as to be back in time to help with the preparations. Listen, chilluns, while I read you my menu,” commanded Ruth solemnly. “I am going to have a regular, old-fashioned supper party with everything on the table at once. Naki and Ceally can’t serve so many people in any other style. Besides, if we have to eat supper at eight and start off on our coon hunt at nine, there won’t be time for many courses. So here goes: Roast chicken, ‘ole Virginy’ ham, sent by Mr. Robert Stuart for just such a special occasion, roast pig and apple sauce, chestnuts, sweet potatoes, jellies, pies, doughnuts——”
“Cease, and give me breakfast ere I perish at the thought of overeating,” remonstrated Hugh. While Miss Sallie protested, as she sat down to her breakfast, “My dear Ruth, are you planning to feed an army, or to entertain a few guests at supper?”
“What shall we do to help with the preparations, Miss Sallie?” queried Grace.
“Just keep out of the way as much as possible, child,” Miss Stuart answered.
But this suggestion did not agree with Ruth’s ideas. “At least, Aunt Sallie,” she expostulated, “we may be allowed to decorate the hut as we like.”
“Certainly, child. Spend the day bringingthe woods into the house, and to-morrow in throwing the trash out again, if you like. Only don’t interrupt Ceally and Naki.”
At half-past seven everything was ready for supper. As for the coon hunt, no one of “The Automobile Girls” had the faintest conception of what it would be like, and Miss Sallie was as ignorant as the rest of them.
“It is only an excuse for a midnight frolic among the young people,” she thought, indulgently. “I presume no mischief will come of it.”
A barking of dogs announced the approach of the guests. Four lean hounds, brown and yellow, baying and straining at their leashes, tore up the hill. Already the keen mountain air stirred them. Br’er Possum and Br’er Coon were even now placidly eating their suppers. The dogs longed to be at the night’s business.
While the young people feasted inside the cabin, the men who were to conduct the hunt prepared the pine torches to light them on their way.
“You feel sure this is a proper expedition, Mr. Latham?” asked Aunt Sallie nervously. She was standing at the door, waiting to see the party start off. “Hugh,” she called at the last minute, “promise me to look after Ruth and Grace. Don’t get separated from them, or Ishall never forgive you. Ralph, I trust you to take care of Mollie and Bab.”
But Reginald Latham was standing near Miss Stuart and overheard her instructions to the two boys.
“Oh, I say, Miss Stuart,” he quizzed in the affected fashion that so angered Mollie, “can’t you trust me to look after Miss Thurston? I have a score to pay back to her for her rescue of me in my airship.”
Mollie put her arm in Ralph’s as they walked out the door together. “Don’t mind that Latham man,” she whispered. “I can’t see why Bab likes him. See, they are starting off together.”
The great horn blew; the dogs barked violently.
Twenty people, each carrying a pine torch, lit up the shadows of the quiet woods.
“When I count three,” said Mr. Latham to the keepers, “you can let the dogs go.”
One! two! three! and the hounds were off, their noses pointed along the ground, their tails standing out straight behind them.
“Is coon hunting a cruel sport, Ralph?” Mollie inquired. “If it is, I would rather stay home.”
“I don’t know; this is my first experience,” Ralph replied. “But hurry along, little girl!”
“Hurrah! The dogs have a coon on the run!” shouted some one in front. A poor old coon had been driven from his comfortable hollow tree, and was running for his life over the hard ground, pursued by excited dogs. Close behind followed the hunters with their horns. And, tumbling over one another rushing pell-mell after them, came the crowd of heedless young people. The party separated. Two of the dogs tracked another coon.
“I half hope Mr. Coon will win this race!” panted Barbara, close behind Reginald Latham. “Remember Uncle Remus says, ‘Br’er Coon, he was wunner deze here natchul pacers.’ Certainly he has me outclassed as a runner. Do wait for me, Mr. Latham!”
Reginald Latham had run ahead of the rest of the party, and was tearing down a steep hill with no light except from his pine torch. The moon had gone behind a cloud.
Barbara, farther up the hill, could see the reflection of a sheet of water. Into it the poor little hunted coon jumped, swimming for dear life to the opposite shore. The dogs hesitated a minute, then went into the water after it. But Reginald Latham was now going so rapidly he could not stop himself.
With a rush he was in the water, just as Bab’s warning cry rang out.
“Help me! I am drowning!” he shouted. For the minute he and Barbara were alone. The rest of the party had followed the two dogs, whose baying sounded some distance across through the woods.
Barbara was down the bank, and out in the stream in a second. To her disgust she found the water only up to her waist. They were at the edge of a small pond, but Reginald Latham clutched at Barbara, panic-stricken.
“Why, Mr. Latham,” cried Bab in disgust, “you are not drowning. This water is not three feet deep. We have only to walk out.”
At this instant, Ralph Ewing and Mollie came rushing down the hill.
“What on earth’s the matter, Bab?” asked Mollie.
“Oh, nothing,” said Bab loyally, “except that Mr. Coon has led us into a nice mud bath. I expect Mr. Latham and I had better return home. I don’t believe I am a first-class hunter. My sympathies are too much on the side of the coon.”
“Can I help either of you?” asked Ralph Ewing courteously. But when Bab said “no,” he and Mollie were off through the woods again.
“It was good of you, Miss Thurston,” Reginald Latham apologized, as he and Bab made their way up the hill again, “to take part of theresponsibility for our plunge into the pond on yourself. I am an awful coward about the water. I would take my share of the blame, except that my uncle would be so angry.”
“But you are not afraid of your uncle, are you?” Bab inquired impetuously. “You seem grown up to me, and I don’t see why you should be afraid. Mr. Latham is awfully nice anyhow.”
“Oh, you don’t understand, Miss Thurston,” declared Reginald Latham peevishly. “Everything in the world depends on my keeping on the good side of my uncle. My mother has talked of nothing else to me since I was a child. You see, uncle has all the money in the family now. He doesn’t have to leave me a red cent unless he chooses.”
“Well, I would rather be independent than rich,” protested Bab. “Oh, I beg your pardon,” she said blushing. “I am sure I don’t know you well enough to say a thing like that to you. But do let’s hurry back to camp.”
On their way back they met Gwendolin Morton and the young German secretary, Franz Heller. Gwendolin had sprained her ankle in getting over a log, and had given up her part in the hunt.
By midnight nearly all the coon hunters had returned to the log cabin for repairs before makingtheir way down the hill again. Reginald Latham sat before the fire drying his wet clothes.
“What is the matter with you, Reginald?” asked his uncle, sharply. “We’ve bagged three coons, Miss Stuart, but I am afraid we have had more disasters than good luck. Now, we must be off home again. Look here, young ladies,” said Mr. Latham, turning to Ruth and Mollie, who were saying good-bye to their guests, “is there a wood nymph, who lives anywhere about in these woods? Several times to-night I thought I spied a little figure flying between the trees.”
“Nonsense, Mr. Latham,” laughed Ruth. “Our woods are not haunted.”
But Mollie answered never a word.
“Miss Thurston,” called Reginald Latham, as Barbara, who had gone out to change her wet clothes came into the room to say good night to her guests, “may I come up and see you and your friends in the morning?”
Barbara hesitated. She did not object to Reginald Latham as the other girls did; she even thought Ruth, Grace and Mollie were prejudiced against him, but she had an idea that something disagreeable might grow out of a further intimacy.
“I am sorry, Mr. Latham,” she exclaimed politely,“but we have planned to do some target practice in the morning? We are going to stay but a short time up here in the woods, and Mr. Stuart, Ruth’s father, is anxious that we should learn to shoot.”
“But I am a fairly good shot myself,” protested Reginald Latham. “Why can’t I come up and help with the teaching? May I, Miss Stuart?” he asked, turning to Ruth, who much against her will, was obliged to consent.
“Never again shall I allow you to engage in such an unladylike and cruel sport as a coon hunt!” announced Miss Sallie, when the last guest had gone. The girls agreed with her, as the baying of the hounds and the noise from the hunters’ horns at last died away in the distance.