Can you imagine the dishwashing when the gay party returned to the freight car? Children do not usually care for dishwashing. But never did a little boy hand dishes to his sister so carefully as Benny did. On their hands and knees beside the clear, cool little "washtub," the three children soaped and rinsed and dried their precious store of dishes. Jess scoured the rust from the spoons with sand. "There!" she said, drying the last polished spoon. The children sat back and looked admiringly at their own handiwork. But they did not look long. There was too much to be done.
"Jess," exclaimed Violet, "I'll tell you!" Violet seldom spoke so excitedly. Even Benny turned around and looked at her.
"Come and see what I noticed inside the car last night!"
Both children followed her, and peered in at the door.
"See, on the wall, right over on the other door, Jess." Now, all Jess could see were two thick chunks of wood nailed securely to the closed door opposite the open one. But she whirled around and around as fast as she could, clapping her hands. When she could get her breath, however, she skipped over to the board they had carried, dusted it nicely, and laid it carefully across the two wooden projections. It was a perfect shelf.
"There!" said Jess.
The children could hardly wait to arrange the shining new dishes on the shelf. Violet quietly gathered some feathery white flowers, a daisy or two, and some maidenhair ferns, which she arranged in a glass vase filled with water from the "well." This she put in the middle, with the broken edge hidden.
"There!" said Jess.
"You said 'there' three times, Jessy," remarked Benny, contentedly.
"So I did," replied Jess laughing, "but I'm going to say it again." She pointed and said, "There!"
Henry was coming up the path.
Henry had all sorts of packages under his arm and in his pockets. But he wouldn't open them or tell a thing about his adventures until dinner was ready, he said. "Jess, you're a wonder!" he exclaimed when he saw the dishes and the shelf.
The big kettle was selected, and they all began to pick blueberries as fast as they could, telling Henry meanwhile all about the wonderful dump. At last the tablecloth was spread and Henry unwrapped his parcels before the whole excited family.
"I bought some more brown bread," he said, producing the loaves, "and some more milk—in the same little store where I went yesterday. It's kept by a little old man, and it's called a Delicatessen Shop. He haseverythingin his store to eat. I bought some dried beef because we can eat it in our fingers. And I bought a big bone for the dog."
"His name is Watch," Jess interrupted.
"All right," said Henry, accepting the name. "I bought a bone for Watch."
Watch fell on the bone as if he were famished, which indeed he nearly was.
It was a rapturous moment when Jess poured the yellow milk into four cups or bowls, and each child proceeded to crumble the brown bread into it with a liberal scattering of blueberries. And then when they ate it with spoons! Nobody was able to speak a word for several minutes.
Then Henry began slowly to tell his tale.
"I earned a dollar just this morning," he began proudly. "I walked along the first shady street I came to—nice houses, you know. And there was a fellow out mowing his own lawn. He's a nice fellow, too, I can tell you—a young doctor." Henry paused to chew blissfully.
"He was pretty hot," Henry went on. "And just as I came to the gate, his telephone rang. I heard it, and called after him and asked if he didn't want me to finish up."
"And he said he did!" cried Jess.
"Yes. He said, 'For goodness' sake, yes!'" Henry answered smiling. "You see, he wasn't used to it. So I mowed the lawn and trimmed the edges, and he said he never had a boy trim it as well as I did. And then he asked me if I wanted a steady job."
"O Henry!" cried Violet and Jess together.
"I told him I did, so he said to come back this afternoon any time I wanted, or tomorrow—he said he didn't care just when—any time."
Henry gave his cup a last polish with his spoon and set it down dreamily. "It's a pretty house," he went on, "and there's a big garden behind it—vegetable garden. And an orchard behind that—cherry orchard. You ought to see the cherry trees! Well, when I was trimming the edges near the kitchen door, the cook came and watched me. She's a fat Irishwoman." Henry laughed at the recollection.
"She asked me if I liked cookies. Oh, if you had smelled them baking you'd have died laughing, Benny. Dee-licious! So I said I did, and she passed me out one, and when she went back I put it in my pocket."
"Did she see you?" asked Jess anxiously.
"Oh, no," said Henry confidently. "For I carefully chewed away for a long time on nothing at all."
Benny began to look fixedly at Henry's pocket. It certainly was still rather bulgy.
"When I went, the doctor paid me a dollar, and the cook gave me this bag."
Henry grinned as he tossed the paper bag to Jess. Inside were twelve ginger cookies with scalloped edges, smelling faintly of cinnamon and sugar.
"I'm going to keep track of everything I earn and spend," said Henry, watching Jess as she handed around the cookies with reverence.
"How are you going to write without a pencil?" asked Jess.
"There are pieces of tailor's chalk in my workbag," said Violet.
Henry gave his younger sister a gentle pat, as she returned with her workbag and fished for the chalk.
While the girls rinsed the empty dishes in the brook and stored away the food for supper, Henry was beginning his cash account on the wall of his bedroom. It was never erased, and Henry often now looks at the account with great affection.
Soon the girls came to inspect it. Meanwhile Benny looked on with great delight as Watch tried to bury his bone with only one paw to dig with.
"Earned, $1.00; Cash on hand, $3.85," read Jess aloud.
Below, he had written:
"Cloth!" exclaimed Violet. "What on earth?"
Henry laughed a little, and watched her face as he drew out his last package and handed it to her.
"I thought we ought to have a tablecloth," he explained. "So I got a yard at the ten-cent store—but it isn't hemmed, of course."
With a cry of delight Violet unwrapped the brown cloth with its edge of blue. Her clever fingers were already evening the two ends. She was never so happy as when with a needle.
Henry set off again with a light heart. Here was one sister curled up happily against a big tree, setting tiny stitches into a very straight hem. Here was another sister busily gathering pliant twigs into a bundle for a broom with which to sweep the stray pine needles from the house. And here was Benny, curled up sound asleep on the ground with the dog for a pillow.
It was quite late when Henry returned. In fact, it was nearly seven o'clock, although he didn't know that. Several treasures had been added in his absence. The broom stood proudly in the corner with a slim stick for a handle. The new tablecloth had been washed and was drying on the line. And Jess, who had decided to wash one garment a day, had begun with Benny's stockings. When Henry came they were being put on again with much pride by Benny himself. Violet had darned a big hole in each.
This time Henry himself could not wait to tell his sisters what he had. He passed them the package at once, with shining eyes.
"Butter!" cried Jess with a radiant face.
It was butter, cool and sweet. Nobody remembered that they had been a week without tasting either butter or meat when at last they sat down to their royal supper.
"These are trick spoons," explained Henry. "Turn them upside down, and use the handle, and they become knives."
They were knives; anyway, they were used to spread the delicious morsels of butter on the brown loaf. With dried beef, and a cookie for dessert, who could ask for better fare? Certainly not the four children, who enjoyed it more than the rarest dainties.
"I washed the doctor's automobile this afternoon," Henry related. "Then I washed both piazzas with the hose, and tomorrow I'm going to hoe in the garden. Oh, wouldn't I love to have a nice cold swim in that brook!"
Henry was hot and sticky, certainly. He looked with longing eyes at the waterfall as he finished the last crumbs of his supper.
"I wonder if we couldn't fix up a regular swimming pool," he said, half to himself.
"Of course we could," replied Violet, as if nothing were too difficult. "Jess and I know where there are big logs, and big flat stones."
"You do, hey?" said Henry staring at his gentle little sister.
"Well, why couldn't we, Henry?" struck in Jess. "Just a little below this there is a sort of pool already, only not big enough."
"We sure could!" cried Henry. "Some day I'll stay home from work, and we'll see."
Nobody realized that Henry had been working only one day in all. Anyway it seemed as if they had always lived in the comfortable home in the freight car, with Henry plying back and forth from the city each day, bringing them new surprises.
Henry went to bed that night with a head full of plans for damming up the brook. He almost shouted when he thought suddenly of Benny's wheels. He began to plan to make a cart to carry the heavy stones to the brook. And that was when he first noticed that Watch was not asleep. He could see his eyes shining red in the darkness. It must have been around eleven o'clock.
Henry reached over and patted his rough little back. Watch licked the hand, but didn't close his eyes. Suddenly he began to growl softly.
"Sh!" said Henry to the dog. Now thoroughly startled, he sat up; Jess sat up. They did not hear a sound.
"Better shut the door," breathed Henry. Together they rolled the door very slowly and softly until it was shut.
Still they did not hear anything. But still Watch continued his uneasy growling.
Violet and Benny slumbered on. Jess and Henry sat motionless, with their hearts in their mouths.
"Supposing it was some other tramp," whispered Jess, "somebody else that wanted to sleep here!"
"Watch would bite 'em," whispered Henry briefly. Jess never knew what confidence Henry had in the faithful dog.
Then a branch cracked sharply outside, and Watch barked out loud. Jess smothered the dog instantly in her arms. But it had been a bark and it was loud, clear, and unmistakable.
"That settles it," thought Henry. "Whoever it is, knows there's someone in here." And the boy waited with the new broom in his hand, expecting every moment to see the door opened from the outside.
But nothing happened. Nothing at all. The children sat in perfect silence for at least a half hour, and nothing more was heard. Watch sniffed a little when Henry finally rolled the door open again. But he then turned around three times and lay down beside Jess, apparently satisfied at last.
Taking the dog's conduct as a sure guide, Henry composed himself for sleep.
"It must have been a rabbit or something," he said to Jess.
The occupants of the freight car slept peacefully until morning.
Jess and Henry had a short committee meeting next morning before the others awoke. It was agreed that nobody should be allowed to stray off into the woods alone, not even the dog. And with much mystery Henry left some orders with all of them, as to what they should build for him during the morning.
"What for?" asked Benny.
"Shan't tell, old fellow," teased Henry. "You just build it, and you'll see later."
So Henry walked briskly through the woods, feeling sure that the noise in the night had been made by a rabbit.
Having no watch, Henry made a slight mistake by appearing at the young doctor's door before eight o'clock. He was just in time to meet the doctor coming in from a night call.
If Henry had not been so eager to begin work, he would have noticed how the young man's dark eyes examined him from head to foot, even to his plastered hair, wet with brook water. It was not the doctor who directed his work, but the doctor's mother—the sweet-faced Mrs. McAllister, whose heart was centered in her son and her vegetable garden.
Her heart warmed to the boy when she saw how carefully he thinned out the carrots, which had been sadly neglected.
"I have been so busy," she declared, "that I have actually stayed awake nights worrying about these carrots. There—see that?" She pulled out a fairly good-sized carrot as she spoke. It had to come out, for it was much too near its neighbors. In fact, when Henry had thinned out half a row he had quite a little pile of eatable carrots, each as large as his thumb. When Mrs. McAllister saw Henry deftly press the earth back again around the carrots which remained standing, she left him quietly with a smile. Here was a gardener whom she could trust.
Henry worked steadily in the hot sun, completing row after row of carrots, parsnips, and onions. When the mill bells rang at noon he worked on, without noticing that his employer was again watching him.
When he did at last notice her he asked her, smiling, what she wanted done with the things he had pulled up.
"Oh, throw them away," she said indifferently. "Toss them over into the orchard, and sometime we'll burn them when they get dry."
"Do you mind if I take them myself?" asked Henry, hesitatingly.
"Oh, no," said Mrs. McAllister cordially. "Have you chickens? That will be fine."
Henry was thankful that she went right along without waiting for an answer. But in a way he did have chickens, he thought.
"You must stop working now," she said. "Any time you want to do something, there will be a place for you here." She gave him a dollar bill, and left the delighted boy with the piles of precious little vegetables. As long as Henry expected to return so soon, he hastily selected an orderly bunch of the largest of the carrots and the smallest of the onions. He added a few of the miniature parsnips for good measure. They looked like dolls' vegetables. When Henry walked down the drive with his "bouquet," he would have seen a face at the window if he had looked up. But he did not look up. He was too anxious to get to the little old man's shop and order his meat.
So it happened that Henry walked in upon his little family at about two o'clock with all the materials for a feast. The feast could not be made ready before night, Jess hastened to explain to Benny, who was perfectly satisfied anyway with bread and milk in his pink cup.
"Your building is done," Benny informed his brother. "I builded lots of it."
"He really did," agreed Violet, leading the way to the sunny open spot a trifle behind the house. The "building" was a fireplace. With an enormous amount of labor, the children had made quite a hollow at the base of a rock. This was lined completely with flat stones. More flat stones had been set on end to keep out the wind. On top of the stones lay the most wonderful collection of firewood that you can imagine, all ready to light. There were chips and bits of crumpled paper, pine cones, and dry twigs. Beside the big rock was a woodpile. The children had apparently been working like beavers all the morning. Jess had found a heavy wire in the dump, and had fastened it between two trees. On the wire the kettle swung merrily.
"Fine! Fine!" shouted Henry when he saw it. "I couldn't have done it so well myself." And he honestly believed it.
"We have dinner at night, here," observed Jess impressively. "What did you buy?"
When the girls saw the tiny vegetables they began with cries of delight to cut them from their stalks with Henry's knife and a broken paring knife. They scrubbed them in the "washtub," filled the kettle half full of water from the "well," and proceeded in great excitement to cut the raw meat into cubes. When this had been dropped into the kettle, Henry lighted the fire. It burned frantically, as if it were trying to encourage the stew to do its best. Violet laid the tin plate over the top for a cover, and they all stood by to hear the first bubble. Soon the savory stuff in the kettle began to boil in good earnest. Watch sat down gravely near it, and gave an approving sniff at intervals.
"Keep it boiling," advised Henry as he departed again. "When I come home tonight I'll bring some salt. And for mercy's sake, don't get on fire."
Violet pointed silently at the big teapot. The little girl had filled it with water in case of emergency. "That's if Benny gets on fire," she explained—"or Watch."
Henry laughed and went on his way happily enough. He wished he might share the delightful task of keeping the fire going and sniffing the stew, but when he found out his afternoon's duties, he changed his mind abruptly.
"Think you can clean up this garage?" asked Dr. McAllister quizzically when he appeared.
Henry flashed a look around the place, and met the young man's eyes with a smile. It did need cleaning rather badly. When its owner purred out in his high-powered little car, Henry drew a long breath and began in earnest. He opened all the chests of drawers to begin with. Then he arranged all the tools in the largest deep drawer, and with a long-handled brush and a can of black paint that was nearly dry, he labeled the drawer TOOLS with neat lettering. Another drawer he lettered NAILS, and assorted its contents into a few of the many boxes that were lying around. He folded up the robes he found, swept off the shelves and arranged the oil cans in orderly ranks, sorted out innumerable pairs of gloves, and then swept the floor. He washed the cement floor with the hose, and while waiting for it to dry he rinsed his brushes in turpentine.
To tell the truth, Henry had found a few things in the rubbish which he had stored in his own pocket. The treasure consisted in this case of a quantity of bent and rusty nails of all sizes, and a few screws and nuts.
When Dr. McAllister returned at six o'clock he found Henry corking up the turpentine and arranging the brushes on the shelf.
"My word!" he exclaimed, staring at his garage with his mouth open. Then he threw back his head and laughed till his mother came down the walk to see what the matter was.
"Look at my gloves, Mother," he said, wiping his eyes. "All mated up. They never met each other before, that I remember."
Mrs. McAllister looked the garage over, and observed the newly labeled drawers. Her son opened one of them, and looked at his four hammers.
"My tack hammer, Mother," he said, "your tack hammer, and two other hammers! That last one I never expected to see again. If you can use it, you may have it, my boy."
Now, it is no exaggeration to say that at that moment if Henry had been asked what he wanted most of anything in the world he would have answered without any hesitation whatever, "A hammer."
He accepted it gratefully, hardly able to stand still, so anxious was he to put it into use on the hill he called home.
"Tomorrow's Sunday," said the doctor. "Shall I see you on Monday?"
"Oh, yes," replied Henry, who had lost all track of the days.
"The cherries need picking," said his new friend. "We could use any number of cherry pickers, if they were as careful as you." He gave him an odd look.
"Could you?" asked Henry eagerly. "I'll surely come down."
With that, he bade his friends good-by and started for home, richer by another dollar, two doughnuts the cook had given him, a pocket full of crooked nails, and the rest of the vegetables.
When he reached his freight-car home a delicious savor greeted him.
"Onions!" he shouted, running up to the kettle. The cook stood by and took off the cover and put in the salt. It was absolutely the most tantalizing odor that Henry had ever smelled. Years afterward Jess tried to duplicate it with the same kettle, vegetables from the same garden and all stirred with the same spoon, but it didn't equal this stew in flavor.
"A ladle, as sure as I live!" gasped Henry. Jess had found a tin cup in the dump, and fastened on a wooden handle with a bit of wire. And when she ladled out four portions on four plates of all sizes, some of them tin, and laid a spoon in each, the children felt that the world held no greater riches. The tiny onions floated around like pearls; the carrots melted in your mouth; and the shreds of meat were as tender as possible from long boiling. A bit of bread in one hand helped the feast along wonderfully. The little wanderers ate until they could eat no more.
"I have time before dark to make Benny's cart," observed Henry, biting a crisp, sweet carrot.
"With my wheels?" asked Benny.
"Yes, sir, with your wheels," agreed Henry. "Only, when it's done, you'll have to cart stones in it."
"Sure," said Benny with satisfaction. "Cart stones oranything."
"We'll need it in making the dam," explained Henry for the benefit of his sisters. "Tomorrow's Sunday, so I shan't work down in the town. Do you think it's all right to build the pool on Sunday, Jess?"
"I certainly do," replied Jess with emphasis. "We're just building the dam so we can keep clean. I guess if Sunday is your only day off, it'll be all right."
Henry's conscience was set at rest as he began with great delight to hammer out his bent nails. He and Benny ran about finding pieces of wood to fasten the wheels on. A visit to the dump was necessary at last, in order to find just the right piece of timber for a tongue, but before it was too dark to see, Henry had pounded the last nail in place and trundled the flat cart back and forth just to see it go. The cart seemed valuable enough to all of them to take into the house for the night. And Henry could not afford to laugh at Benny for going to sleep with his hand upon one of his precious wheels, for he himself had tucked his new hammer under his pillow.
Even a hammer makes a good pillow if one is tired enough, and the freight-car family slept until the nine-o'clock church bells began to ring faintly in the valley. There were at least a dozen churches, and their far-away bells sounded sweetly harmonious in so many different keys.
"They almost play a tune," said Violet, as she listened.
"I like music all right," replied Henry in a business-like way, "but I for one shall have to get to work."
"This will be a good day to wash all the stockings," said Jess. "We'll all be wading so much in the brook, anyway."
After breakfast the first thing Henry did was to survey, with critical eyes, the spot they had chosen for a pool. It was a hollow about three yards across. There were no stones in it at all.
"It'sbigenough already," remarked Henry at last, "but it hasn't enough water in it." He measured its depth with a stick. "We'll have to guess at inches," he said.
"I have a little tape measure in my workbag," ventured his sister Violet.
Henry flashed a smile at her. "Is there anything youhaven'tgot in your workbag?" he asked her.
The children measured the wet stick carefully. The water was just ten inches deep in the deepest part.
Henry explained his plan of engineering to his sisters. "We will have to haul some big logs across this narrow part and stuff them from this end with stones and underbrush. It ought to be three feet deep before we get through."
"O Henry!" protested Jess. "Benny would get drowned."
"Drowned!" echoed Henry. "How tall do you think he is, anyhow?"
They measured the little boy and found him to be forty-two inches tall. That settled it; the pool was designed to be three feet in depth.
Luckily the largest logs were not far away; but as it was, it was a matter of great labor for the builders to drag them to the scene of operations.
"Let's get all the logs up here first," suggested Jess. "Then we can have the fun of laying them across."
The two older children dragged all the logs, while Violet and Benny attended to the stones, with the help of the cart. Occasionally Henry was called upon to assist with a heavy stone, but for the most part Benny puffed out his cheeks and heaved the stones himself. In fact, Henry decided at this point to let Benny drop them into the water as he gathered them. "Splash 'em right in, old fellow," he directed. "Only keep them in a nice straight line right across this place between these two trees. It won't make any difference how wet he gets," he added in an aside to Jess. "We can dry him in the sun."
Jess thought a little differently, although she said nothing. She took off Benny's little crinkled blouse and one pair of bloomers, and started to hang them on the line.
"Good time to wash them!" she exclaimed.
"Let me wash them," begged Violet. "You're more useful building the dam." There was wisdom in this suggestion, so Jess accepted it gratefully, and even added Henry's blouse to the laundry.
"When we finish the dam they will surely be dry," she said.
As for Henry, he was only too glad to work without it. "Makes me feel lighter," he declared.
Rare and beautiful birds came and watched the barefooted children as they scurried around, building their wall of masonry. But the children did not have any eyes for birds then. They watched with delighted eyes as each stone was added to the wall under the clear water, and it began to rise almost to the surface.
"That makes a solid foundation for the logs, you see," explained Henry with pride. "They won't be floating off downstream the minute we lay them on."
Then at last the time arrived when they were to lay the logs on.
"Let's wedge the first one between these two trees," said Jess, with a happy thought. "Then if each end of the log is on the upper side of the trees, the harder the water pounds the tighter the dam gets."
"Good work!" exclaimed Henry admiringly. "That's just what we'll do."
But the children were not at all prepared for what happened the moment the first big log was splashed into its place on top of the stone wall.
The water, defeated in its course down the rocky bed, gurgled and chased about as it met the opposing log, and found every possible hole to escape.
"Leaks," said Henry briefly, as the water began to rush around both ends and pour over the top of the log. "We'll make the logs so thick itcan'tget through. We'll lay three logs across, with three logs on top of them, and three more on top of that."
The children set about stubbornly to accomplish this. Violet held great sprays of fine underbrush in place until each log was laid. Wetter children never were seen. But nobody cared. They resolutely plugged the ends with more stones, more underbrush, and more logs. Each time a leak was discovered, someone dropped a stone over it. Even Benny caught the fever of conquering the mischievous water which slipped from their grasp like quicksilver.
When the three top logs were at last dropped into place, the excited children sat down to watch the pool fill. This it did slowly.
Finding now no means of exit, the water was quieter. It rose steadily up the barricade of logs. It widened beautifully. Henry could not sit still. "It slopes!" he cried. "See how clear it is! And still! See how still it is!"
And then the water began to overflow the logs. It spilled over the top with a delightful curve. And on the other side it formed a second waterfall—not high and narrow and graceful like the natural fall above, but very low and wide. "Just like a regular mill dam," said Henry.
He held the measuring stick out as far as he could and plunged it into the water. It lacked an inch of being three feet deep.
"Deep enough," he declared.
In fact it looked so deep that Benny could not conceal a slight fear.
"That's the beauty of the slope," observed Jess. "Benny can wade in just as far as he wants to, and no farther. We all know what the bed of the pool is like—no holes or stones."
The girls had to leave to prepare dinner, but Henry could not be persuaded to leave the wonderful swimming pool. "I'd rather swim than eat," he said.
Luckily for the children, their supply of provisions was the largest of any day since their flight. The girls lighted the fire and heated up the remainder of the stew and cut the bread. The butter, hard and cold in the refrigerator, was taken out, and four portions cut from it. The two doughnuts made four half rings for dessert.
The cooks rang the dinner bell. This was an ingenious arrangement hung on a low branch. It consisted of a piece of bent steel swung on a string. Violet hit it sharply with another piece of steel. It sounded deeply and musically through the woods, and the boys understood it and obeyed at once.
It was evident the moment they appeared that at least three of the family had been swimming. Watch shook himself violently at intervals, spattering water drops in all directions. Henry and Benny, fresh and radiant, with plastered hair and clean dry stockings and blouses, apparently liked to swim and eat, too.
"You can actually swim a few strokes in it, Jess, if you're careful," Henry said, with excusable pride, as he sat down to dinner.
Building a dam is wonderful sauce for a dinner. "I think stew is much better the second day," observed Benny, eating hungrily.
There remained two more adventures for the eventful day. The girls cut their hair. Violet's dark curls came off first. "They're awfully in the way," explained Violet, "and so much trouble when you're working."
They were tangled, too, and Jess cut them off evenly by a string, with Violet's little scissors. Jess' chestnut hair was long and silky and nicely braided, but she never murmured as it came off too. The two girls ran to the brook mirror to see how they looked. The new haircut was very becoming to both.
"I like you better that way," said Henry approvingly. "Lots more sensible when you're living in the woods."
Around four o'clock the children took a long walk in the opposite direction from any of their other explorations. They were rewarded by two discoveries. One was a hollow tree literally filled with walnuts, gathered presumably by a thrifty squirrel the previous fall. The other discovery frightened them a little just at first. For with bristling back and a loud bark, Watch suddenly began to rout out something in the leaves, and that something began to cackle and half run and half fly from the intruders. It was a runaway hen. The children succeeded in catching the dog and reducing him to order, although it was clear he liked very much to chase hens.
"She had some eggs, too," remarked Benny as if trying to make pleasant conversation.
Jess bent over incredulously and saw a rude nest in the moss in which there were five eggs.
"A runaway hen!" said Henry, hardly believing his eyes. "She wants to hide her nest and raise chickens."
The children had no scruples at all about taking the eggs.
"Almost a gift from heaven," said Violet, stroking one of the eggs with a delicate finger. "It wouldn't be polite to refuse them."
Scrambled eggs made a delicious supper for the children. Jess broke all the eggs into the biggest bowl and beat them vigorously with a spoon until they were light and foamy. Then she added milk and salt and delegated Violet to beat them some more while she prepared the fire. The big kettle, empty and clean, was hung over the low fire and butter was dropped in. Jess watched it anxiously, tipping the kettle slightly in all directions. When the butter had reached the exact shade of brown, Jess poured in the eggs and stirred them carefully, holding her skirts away from the fire. She was amply repaid for her care when she saw her family attack the meal. Clearly this was a feast day.
"We shall have to be satisfied tomorrow to live on bread and milk," she observed, scraping up the last delicious morsel.
But when tomorrow came they had more than bread and milk, as you will soon see.
Henry meditated awhile all to himself early the next morning as to whether he ought to take any one with him for the cherry picking. "He certainly said he could use more than one," he mused.
Failing to decide the question, he laid it before his sisters as they ate bread and milk for breakfast.
"I can't see any reason, except one, why we shouldn't all go," said Jess.
"What's that?" asked Henry.
"Well, you see there are four of us, and supposing grandfather is looking for us, it will be easier to find four than one."
"True," agreed Henry. "But supposing we went down the hill and through the streets two by two? And you took Watch?"
It was finally agreed that Henry and Benny would attract very little attention together; Violet and Jess would follow with the dog, who would trace Henry. And so they set out. They took down the clothesline and closed the car door. Everything instantly looked as lonesome as heart could wish. Even the merry little brook looked deserted.
When the children arrived at the McAllister orchard they soon saw that they were not the only workers. Two hired men and the young doctor himself were carrying ladders and baskets from the barn, and the Irish cook was bringing piles of square baskets from the house—the kind that strawberries are sold in.
"The girls can pick cherries as well as I can," said Henry, introducing his sisters. "Benny ought not to climb very tall trees, but we had to bring him."
"Benny can carry the baskets, perhaps," suggested the doctor, much amused. "You see, this is a cherry year, and we have to work quickly when we once begin. Perhaps he could fill the small baskets from the big ones."
It was a "cherry year," certainly. There were two varieties in the orchard, the pale yellow kind with a red cheek, and the deep crimson ones which were just as red in the center as they were on the outside. The red ones were huge, bursting with juice, and the trees were laden full with the luscious fruit. Even the air was perfumed.
It was a pretty sight that the doctor finally turned his back upon when he went on his calls. Henry, slim, tanned, and graceful, picked rapidly from the tallest ladder in the largest tree. The two girls in their sensible bloomer suits could climb like cats. They leaned against the ladders easily about halfway up, their fluffy short hair gleaming in the sun. Benny trotted to and fro, waiting upon the busy pickers, his cheeks as red as the cherries themselves.
"Eat all you want," Dr. McAllister called back. They did not really obey this command, but occasionally a set of white teeth bit into one of the glorious oxhearts.
In less than an hour Benny had made five firm friends. The hired men joked with him, the cook petted him, the young doctor laughed at him delightedly, and sweet Mrs. McAllister fell in love with him. Finally he seated himself comfortably at her side under the trees and filled square boxes with great care under her direction.
"I never had such a cheerful crowd of cherry pickers before," Mrs. McAllister said at last. "I'd much rather stay out here than go into the house where it is cool."
Evidently Mary the cook felt the same way, for she kept coming to the orchard for some reason or other. When the doctor returned at lunch time his orchard was ringing with laughter, and good-natured barks from Watch who could not feel easy in his mind with his mistress so high up in a tree where he couldn't follow.
Dr. McAllister paused in the garage long enough to give a sniff to the boiling cherries in the kitchen, and then made his way to the orchard, where he received a warm welcome.
"There's no use in your going home to lunch," he smilingly observed, at the same time watching Henry's face carefully. "You can eat right here in the orchard, unless your mother will be worrying about you."
This remark met with an astounding silence. Henry was the first to collect his wits. "No, our mother is dead," he said evenly, without embarrassment.
It was the doctor who hastened to change the subject he had introduced. "I smelled something when I came in," he said to Benny.
"What did it smell like?" inquired Benny.
"It smelled like cherry slump," replied the doctor with twinkling eyes.
"Cherrywhat?" asked Jess, struggling down her ladder with a full basket.
"I think that's what they call it—slump," repeated Dr. McAllister. "Do you care to try it?"
At this moment Mary appeared in the orchard with an enormous tray. And at the first sight of her cookery, nobody cared the least what its name was. It was that rare combination of dumpling beaten with stoned cherries, and cooked gently in the juice of the oxheart cherries in a real "cherry year." It was steaming in the red juice, with the least suspicion of melted butter over the whole.
"Do get two more, Mary," begged Mrs. McAllister, laughing. "It tastes so much better under the cherry trees!"
This was another meal that nobody ever forgot. Even the two hired men sitting under another tree devouring the delicious pudding, paused to hear Benny laugh. Nowadays those two men sometimes meet Henry—but that's another story. Anyway, they never will forget that cherry slump made by Irish Mary.
Almost as soon as lunch was over Benny rolled over on the grass and went to sleep, his head, as usual, on the dog's back. But the others worked on steadily. Mrs. McAllister kept an eye on them from the screened porch without their knowledge.
"Just see how those children keep at it," she said to her son. "There is good stuff in them. I should like to know where they come from."
Dr. McAllister said nothing. He sauntered out into the orchard when he thought they had worked long enough. He paid them four dollars and gave them all the cherries they could carry, although they tried to object.
"You see, you're better than most pickers, because you're so cheerful."
He noticed that they did not all leave the yard at the same time.
When the cherry pickers returned to their little home they examined everything carefully. Nothing had been disturbed. The door was still shut, and the milk and butter stood untouched in the refrigerator. They made a hilarious meal of raw cherries and bread and butter, and before the stars came out they were fast asleep—happy and dreamless.
That evening, very much later, a young man sat in his study with the evening paper. He read the news idly, and was just on the point of tossing the paper aside when this advertisement caught his eye:
Lost. Four children, aged thirteen, twelve, ten and five. Somewhere around the region of Middlesex and Townsend. $5000 reward for information.James Henry Cordyce
Lost. Four children, aged thirteen, twelve, ten and five. Somewhere around the region of Middlesex and Townsend. $5000 reward for information.
James Henry Cordyce
"Whew!" whistled the young man. "James Henry Cordyce!"
He sat in perfect silence for a long time, thinking. Then he went to bed. But long after he had gone upstairs he whistled again, and could have been heard to say-if anyone had been awake to hear it—"James Henry Cordyce! Of all people!"
The Cordyce Steel Mills stood a little aside from the city of Greenfield, as if they were a little too good to associate with common factories. James Henry Cordyce sat in a huge leather chair in his private office. He was a man nearly sixty years of age whose dark brown hair was still untouched by gray. He had rather hard lines around his mouth, but softer ones around his eyes. Printed on the ground-glass top of his door were these words in black and gold:
J. H. Cordyce—PresidentPrivate
Once a year J. H. Cordyce allowed himself a holiday. If he had a weakness, it was for healthy boys—boys running without their hats, boys jumping, boys throwing rings, boys swimming, boys vaulting with a long pole. And in company with three other extremely rich men he arranged, once a year, a Field Day for the town of Intervale. The men attended it in person, and supplied all the money. This was Field Day.
All through the spring and early summer months, boys were in training for miles around, getting ready for Intervale's Field Day. And not only boys, but men also, old and young, and girls of all ages into the bargain. Prizes were offered for tennis, baseball, rowing, swimming, running, and every imaginable type of athletic feat. But usually the interest of the day centered on a free-for-all race of one mile, which everyone enjoyed, and a great many people entered. A prize of twenty-five dollars was offered to the winner of this race, and also a silver trophy cup with little wings on its handles. Sometimes this cup was won by a middle-aged man, sometimes by a girl, and sometimes by a trained athlete. Mr. Cordyce smiled about his eyes as he closed his desk, ordered his limousine, and went out and locked the door of his office. The mill had been closed down for the day. Everyone attended Field Day.
Henry was washing the concrete drives at Dr. McAllister's at this moment. He heard the doctor call to him from the road, so he promptly turned off the hose and ran out to see what was wanted.
"Hop in," commanded the doctor, not stopping his engine. "You ought to go to see the stunts at the athletic meet. It's Field Day."
Henry did not wish to delay the doctor, so he "hopped in."
"Can't go myself," said Dr. McAllister. "I'll just drop you at the grounds. There's no charge for admittance. You just watch all the events and report to me who wins."
Henry tried to explain to his friend that he ought to be working, but there was actually no time. And when he found himself seated on the bleachers and the stunts began, he forgot everything in the world except the exciting events before his eyes.
Henry had no pencil, but he had an excellent memory. He repeated over and over, the name of each winner as it appeared on the huge signboard.
It was nearly eleven o'clock when the free-for-all running race was announced.
"What do they mean—free-for-all?" asked Henry of a small boy at his side.
"Why, just anybody," explained the boy, curiously. "Didn't you ever see one? Didn't you see the one last year?"
"No," said Henry.
The boy laughed. "That was a funny one," he said. "There was a college runner in it, and a couple of fat men, and some girls—lots of people. And the little colored boy over there won it. You just ought to have seen that boy run! He went so fast you couldn't see his legs. Beat the college runner, you know."
Henry gazed at the winner of last year's race. He was smaller than Henry, but apparently older. In a few minutes Henry had quietly left his place on the bleachers. When the boy turned to speak to him again, he was gone.
He had gone, in fact, to the dressing room, where boys of all sizes were putting on sandals and running trunks.
A man stepped up to him quickly.
"Want to enter?" he asked. "No time to waste."
"Yes," replied Henry.
The man tossed him a pair of white shoes and some blue trunks. He liked the look of Henry's face as he paused to ask in an undertone, "Where did you train?"
"Never trained," replied Henry.
"I suppose you know these fellows have been training all the year?" observed the man. "You don't expect to win?"
"Oh, no!" replied Henry, apparently shocked at the idea. "But it's lots of fun to run, you know." He was dressed and ready by this time. How light he felt! He felt as if he could almost fly. Presently the contestants were all marshalled out to the running track. Henry was Number 4.
Now, Henry had never been trained to run, but the boy possessed an unusual quantity of common sense. "It's a mile race," he thought to himself, "and it's the second half mile that counts." So it happened that this was the main thought in his mind when the starter's gong sounded and the racers shot away down the track. In almost no time, Henry was far behind the first half of the runners. But strangely enough, he did not seem to mind this greatly.
"It's fun to run, anyhow," he thought.
It was fun, certainly. He felt as if his limbs were strung together on springs. He ran easily, without effort, each step bounding into the next like an elastic.
After a few minutes of this, Henry had a new thought.
"Now you've tried howeasyyou can run, let's see howfastyou can run!"
And then not only Henry himself, but the enormous crowd as well, began to see how fast he could run. Slowly he gained on the fellow ahead of him, and passed him. With the next fellow as a goal, he gradually crept alongside, and passed him with a spurt. The crowd shouted itself hoarse. The field all along the course was black with people. Henry could hear them cheering for Number 4, as he pounded by. Six runners remained ahead of him. Here was the kind of race the crowd loved; not an easily won affair between two runners, but a gradual victory between the best runner and overpowering odds. Henry could see the finish-flag now in the distance. He began to spurt. He passed Numbers 14 and 3. He passed 25, 6, and 1 almost in a bunch. Number 16 remained ahead. Then Henry began to think of winning. How much the twenty-five dollar prize would mean to Jess and the rest! Number 16mustbe passed.
"I'm going to win this race!" he said quietly in his own mind. "I'll bet you I am!" The thought lent him speed.
"Number 4! Number 4!" yelled the crowd. Henry did not know that the fellow ahead had been ahead all the way, and just because he—Henry—had slowly gained over them all, the crowd loved him best.
Henry waited until he could have touched him. He was within three yards of the wire. He bent double, and put all his energy into the last elastic bound. He passed Number 16, and shot under the wire.
Then the crowd went wild. It scrambled over and under the fence, cheering and blowing its horns. Henry felt himself lifted on many shoulders and carried panting up to the reviewing stand. He bowed laughing at the sea of faces, and took the silver cup with its little wings in a sort of dream. It is a wonder he did not lose the envelope containing the prize, for he hardly realized when he took it what it was.
Then someone said, "What's your name, boy?"