UNFORTUNATELY, the three mothers, Henrietta's grandmother, and Aunty Jane could not look into that queer chicken-coop of a house to see their precious chickens sleeping the sound, sweet sleep that life in the open induces.
Still, the evening was so very fine that no one was surprised because of the prolonged outing—that is, at first. But when nine o'clock came and the Whale failed to appear, Mrs. Slater, Henrietta's grandmother, telephoned to Mr. Black's unresponsive house, and then to Jean's mother, Mrs. Mapes. Mrs. Mapes obligingly ran in to ask Marjory's Aunty Jane if anything had been seen of the delayed Whale; and then both ladies scurried to the rectory to ask Doctor Tucker ifheknew the whereabouts of the Whale—or the Whale's passengers. Of course he didn't; so he and Mrs. Tucker went with the inquiring pair to DoctorBennett's to ask if Mabel had returned. Naturally, she hadn't, so, joined by Mabel's now mildly anxious parents, they all went—just like persons in a moving-picture show, Doctor Bennett said afterwards—to Mrs. Slater's house to ask whatshethought about it. They found her anxiously watching the clock.
Mrs. Slater promptly sent Simmons, the butler, to order her carriage, in which the entire party, somewhat crowded it is true, was speedily transported to Mr. Black's home, where they found Martin waiting in the lighted garage.
"Where," asked Doctor Bennett, "is your master?"
"Sure," returned Martin, pulling politely at a long lock of sandy hair, "that's whatI'dlike to know. 'Tis a lonely evenin' I'm spendin' without even a horse for company."
"Does his automobile ever break down?" queried Aunty Jane, a thin woman with very sharp eyes and other features to match.
"It never has, mum; but most of 'em does, sooner or later. Still, Mr. Black is alwayscareful—he'd be likely to choose a safe spot to break down in."
"He said," offered Doctor Tucker, "that he was going to look at some land of his—where is his land?"
"Sure," returned Martin, with a gesture that included the entire horizon, "he has land anywhere you'd want to look—he owns a pile of rale estate, they say. When annybody wants a little money, he just sells his land, back taxes and all, to that aisy-going man.Hedon't know where his land is; it's iv'rywhere. But wheriver he's gone he can't starve, for Mrs. Crane and Bridget cooked all day yesterday; and he can't freeze because there's three big robes and a fur coat."
"But what can be keeping him?" asked Mrs. Tucker. "He knows that Bettie ought to be in bed by nine."
"Most like it's a busted tire—'tis time wan was givin' out. If he wasn't smart enough to put the new one on—and belike he isn't, him not bein' used to the job—why, there he is, laid out in the road."
"But all our girls are with him," protested Mrs. Bennett. "There's seven in the party. Our five children——"
"The more the merrier," consoled Martin, comfortably. "Even if two or three was spilled overboard, there'd be four left to spread the tale. Depind on it, ladies—and your Riverince—they're safe somewhere, or we'd hear the bad news. That's the kind that travels fastest."
"I think Martin is right," agreed Doctor Tucker, mildly. "I'm quite sure that they're all safe,somewhere;at some farm, perhaps, where there's no telephone. Even if those girls were alone they'd manage to make themselves comfortable somehow—just remember what they did to Dandelion Cottage."
"They're smart enough," agreed Mrs. Mapes, "and they are all resourceful. And Mrs. Crane is with them. If they haven't all plunged over some embankment——"
"Not Mr. Black, mum," assured Martin. "He's that careful and slow that I'm ashamed to be seen ridin' with him. Why, mum, whinI'm in the Whale I feel just like a baby in a go-cart."
Their fears somewhat allayed by optimistic Martin, the parents and guardians of the castaways, after waiting hopefully until midnight, finally dispersed and went to bed, for there was really nothing else to do; but the passengers of the missing Whale spent a far happier and more peaceful night than did their anxious relatives; for the castaways, at least, knew that they were alive and unharmed.
The morning sun was shining brightly when Ambrosial Delight, who had escaped at dawn, chased a frightened chipmunk into Mr. Black's triangular den and roused that recumbent gentleman from the soundest sleep he had had in years.
"Great Scott!" exclaimed the surprised man, sitting up under his bias roof, "the stars were shining when I looked out last! It must be seven or eight o'clock. Hi there, Sarah! Jean! Girls! Has that fish-boat gone up the lake?"
"Yes, yes, Bridget," murmured Mrs. Crane,sleepily. "We'll have creamed shrimps and——"
"Sarah!" shouted Mr. Black, "wake up! You've made me miss that boat again."
So Mrs. Crane woke up, and presently the girls, with sleepy eyes and tousled heads, crawled out, one by one, to blink in the dazzling sunshine.
"Run down to the lake," advised Mr. Black, "and wash your faces—that'll wake you up."
So the girls waded out and washed in the finest basin in the world, made friends with a courageous squirrel who was also bathing his face, and combed their tangled locks with Henrietta's side-combs.
"If you hadn't brought these," observed Jean, "we'd have been in a fine fix."
"Anyhow," giggled Marjory, wiggling her pink toes, delightedly, "there's water enough."
"Bettie," cried Mrs. Crane, from the bank, "come out of that lake! You're a sick girl——"
"I'm not, either," contradicted Bettie, indignantly. "I feel just fine."
"I'm glad to hear it," returned motherly Mrs. Crane, "but I don't want you to take any risks. You've been in long enough."
"All right," agreed Bettie, regretfully. "I'll come out, just to be good, but I don't want to one bit."
"Isn't this just heaven!" breathed Jean, ecstatically, extending her arms as if she would embrace the whole beautiful universe. "Look at that water—pearl-gray, with pink and gold sparkles all spangled over the top! It's a different color every time you look at it. I love it."
"So do I," said Bettie, from the beach. "I wish I were a fish and couldlivein it."
"But then," objected Henrietta, "you couldn'tseeit—I'd rather be a sea-gull."
"She's making puns," groaned Marjory. "Hurry up with that comb, Mabel; it's my turn next."
"Hi there!" called Mr. Black; "who's setting the table for breakfast?"
As the tablecloth was still serving as a roof, Mr. Black found a couple of clean boards thatserved very nicely in its stead. This was not difficult, since all the driftwood was most beautifully clean. So, too, was the sand. Even the soil under the trees, being free from clay, was clean, dry, and pleasant. One could sit on the ground without fear of dampness, dirt, or snakes. It waspleasantground.
"This place," said Mrs. Crane, who was boiling the coffee water, "is absolutely dust-proof, I believe. I'd like to live here all the time, if only to breathe this air."
"Let's stay," pleaded Bettie. "Idon't want to go home."
"Neither do I," said Mabel.
"Nor I," said Henrietta.
"Nor I," echoed Marjory, who had finally succeeded in braiding her long, fair hair.
"I guess," said Mr. Black, "we'llhaveto stay for awhile, whether we want to or not. But, if we don't turn up to-day, they'll begin to hunt for us."
"Oh," groaned Henrietta, "Ihopenot."
"Peter," said Mrs. Crane, "we didn't meeta single soul on that road after we took the turn-off just out of Lakeville."
"I don't wonder," returned Mr. Black. "Nobody that could possibly travel by any other road would ever think of taking that one. I suspect that it hasn't been used very much since Randall stopped lumbering at Barclay's Point, six years ago. But, never fear, they'll find us all right—we're only seventeen miles from Lakeville."
"Butsuchmiles," breathed Mrs. Crane. "Nobody 'd think of trying that road—they'd think we had more sense."
"Perhaps we should have had—perhaps I ought to have doubted Timothy. Anyway, we left tracks. If they look for us at all thoroughly, they'll surely find those."
"That Timothy man," suggested Jean. "Wouldn'theknow?"
"Ye—es," admitted Mr. Black, "but when I asked him about that road he was just boarding a train for Boston. But don't worry. We're not half as lost as we might be. In fact,weknow exactly where we are."
The castaways had barely finished breakfast when sharp-eyed Marjory spied a small, dark object on the water, not far from Barclay's Point.
"That wasn't there yesterday," said she, pointing it out to the others.
"It's moving!" cried Jean.
"Perhaps it's more driftwood for our house," suggested Bettie.
"Or a bear coming to eat us," offered Mabel.
"It's long and slim with a bump at one end," explained Marjory. "Something like a dead tree with one branch sticking up. Just a log, perhaps, but——"
"Anyway," interrupted Jean, "it's coming this way and comingfast."
THE castaways, forgetting that there were dishes to be washed, stood in an eager row on the bank above the beach. The floating object continued to approach. Soon they could see why it moved; the blade of a broad paddle gleamed in the sunlight.
"It's a boat!" cried Marjory.
"A canoe," announced Mr. Black. "See, one end is low, the other fairly out of the water. Let's stand behind these bushes, girls—the shack is so far back that the man in the canoe won't notice it if he doesn't see the tablecloth. I'll take it down, I guess. You see, there's just a chance that that fellow might not land if he saw people here—and we need him in our business. We'll be quiet, too. He seems to be making for this little bay."
The boat and its occupant were an even shade of dark brown, but the paddle gleamedgolden in the sunshine. The canoe, skilfully propelled by a practised hand, shot rapidly toward the strip of sand at the very feet of the almost breathless watchers and, in a very few seconds more, was safely beached. A snarling, stealthy dog leaped ashore and began to sniff suspiciously at the sand; but his owner, fortunately, paid no attention to him. The paddler proved to be an Indian half-breed, bareheaded and clad only in shirt and trousers. His clothes were old and greasy, his bare brown feet far from clean. He flung from the canoe a fish-net, two dead muskrats, and, although it was out of season, a small saddle of venison. He spread the net on the sand to dry, threw the venison upon his shoulder, and climbed the bank.
Mr. Black, stepping from the sheltering bush, met him when he reached the top.
"Good-morning," said he.
The startled Indian almost dropped his burden.
"Goo'-morn'," he grunted, surlily.
"Why!" exclaimed Mr. Black, closelyscrutinizing the half-breed's not very prepossessing countenance, "I think I've met you before. You're Dave Gurneau, the man I bought this land from."
"Yass, I guess, mebbe-so," returned Dave. "You ol' Pete Black, I t'ank so?"
"Yes," admitted the gentleman, "I'm old Pete Black. But what areyoudoing here? I thought I bought this land with the understanding that you were to vacate it—leave it—get off of it? How long have you lived here?"
The culprit wriggled his toes in the sand.
"Ever since Ah'm sell heem," returned Dave, whose small black eyes were shifty.
"Well!" gasped Mr. Black, "that's nerve for you—stayed right here, did you?"
"Yass, Ah'm stay hon dose plass. Me, I must sell dese lan' to you so I can buy proveesion enough for leeve hon heem—som' leetle onion, som' potate, som' flour——"
"You—you sold me the land so you could live on it!"
"Yass—Ah'm got to buy proveesion sometam'. You good, easy man, Ah'm tole."
"He means easy mark," breathed Mrs. Crane.
"Well, I'll be—switched," declared Mr. Black, endeavoring to frown at guilty Dave; but, meeting Bettie's dancing eyes, he laughed instead.
"Dave," said he, "you're an unprecedented rascal. You've caught my fish, picked my berries, killed my game; but I'll forgive you if you'll do an errand for me. Do you think you could walk to Lakeville?"
"Sure t'ing," replied Dave, whose shifty eyes had traveled speculatively from one to another of the group. "Ah'm walk dere plantee tam'. Got to sleep two-t'ree hour, den go."
"Very well," returned Mr. Black; "I'dratheryou'd start at once, but if you need sleep, you'd better get it now than on the way. I'll write Saunders (Saunders was Mr. Black's trusted secretary) to send a launch or a wagon for us and horses for the automobile."
"Peter," queried Mrs. Crane, wistfully,"do wehaveto go home? You know we talked of coming here to camp, anyway. Now that we're here, why can't we stay? I suppose it's a crazy scheme; but that road is too rough to travel over very often, and you know I never did like the water—I'm always seasick. Saunders could send us all the things we need—tents and everything else. And all the parents would be willing—they were all in favor of a camping tripsometime. We'd write and explain——"
"Oh,dostay," cried Jean.
"Oh,do," implored Bettie, flinging her arms about Mr. Black's neck.
"Pleasedo," begged Henrietta, impulsively seizing a hand.
"Oh, do, do,do," shrieked Marjory, seizing the other hand.
"I'll wash all the dishes," promised Mabel, throwing her arms about Mr. Black's stout waist, "and everybody knows that that's a job I hate."
"I'll get fat," promised Bettie.
Now, Mr. Black was ever a warm-heartedand obliging man, with a wonderful love for children in general—his own little dark-eyed daughter had died in infancy—and for Bettie in particular. Even if the plan did seem a bit wild and venturesome (and Mr. Black himself was something of an adventurer, in the best sense of that word), it was not easy to say no with all those clinging arms about him, those eager, pleading young faces upturned expectantly to his. Moreover, few persons, Mr. Black least of all, were able to resist the appeal in Bettie's big, black, always rather pathetic eyes. And already, best argument of all, the slender little maid seemed to be improving under these new conditions.
"Well," capitulated Mr. Black, "it will take Dave some hours to get to Lakeville, and it may take considerable time for Saunders to find a boat or horses to come up here—we'll have to leave all that part of it to his discretion. It may be to-morrow morning before we are rescued. Now, I'll agree to this. We'll send him a list of everything we need. If we are still desirous of staying when the things come,and if there's nothing in my mail to call me to town, we'll stay. If we're tired of it, we'll just cart the stuff home again. We'll each make out a list——"
"On what, I'd like to know?" interrupted Mrs. Crane. "I've used all the wrapping paper to start fires."
Mr. Black, shaking off the clinging children, searched in the pockets of his clothes.
"Nothing doing," said he. "The only scrap of paper I can spare is already covered with memoranda."
Dave, who had been silently waiting, laughed appreciatively. It was an unexpectedly pleasant sound, too; for the half-breed's voice was soft and deep.
"Lots of paper on top of som' tree," he said. "Ah br-r-reeng som'."
"I can see leaves," laughed Henrietta, squinting upward, "but no pages."
"He means birch bark," explained quick-witted Marjory. "See, he's cutting big squares of it."
When the squares were peeled into manythin sheets (the girls thought that great sport) Mr. Black distributed them among the other castaways.
"Here are two pencils," said he. "I'll use my fountain pen."
"And I always have pencils in my bag," said Mrs. Crane. "I'll tend to the provisions, Peter, if you'll look out for the other things. Be sure, girls, to ask for extra shoes and stockings; you'll need those and something warm to sleep in."
Noting that one more pencil was needed, Dave began to fumble in an apparently bottomless pocket. From the depths he finally produced a grimy, greasy stub, which he offered to pencil-less Marjory.
But Marjory, fastidious little maid that she was, drew back from it, loathingly, and declined.
Gentle-mannered Jean, promptly surmising that Dave's feelings might be hurt, handed her own clean, long pencil to Marjory and accepted Dave's offering, with a sweet-voiced "thank you."
From that moment, Dave was Jean's abject slave; and, if the proofs of his devotion were not always welcome, they at least proved numerous.
BY this time, of course, the mothers, Aunty Jane, the solitary grandmother, and even the fathers, were decidedly alarmed; for morning disclosed the disquieting fact that the Whale was still missing.
Mrs. Slater thought that somebody ought to call up the police; Mrs. Tucker suggested sending the militia forth on horseback to scour the surrounding country. Aunty Jane advised ringing the fire bell.
"All nonsense," blustered Doctor Bennett, more worried than he was willing to admit; but, since all the alarmed ladies, singly and collectively, had appealed to him for advice, it was necessary of course to appear as unconcerned as possible. "All nonsense, I say. If Mr. Black has had an accident with his car he probably doesn't care to have the fact advertised. Nor do we want the whole townworrying about our children. Be reasonable. There isn't a road in the country that crosses a railroad track; there isn't an inch of road anywhere about that skirts any dangerous declivity. The Whalemightget stuck in some swamp or stalled in the sand or lose a tire or run short of gasoline. In any of those cases, they'd take refugesomewhere, while waiting for repairs. Folks with automobiles often get held up for a night. There's just one thing for us to do. That is, to wait. Go home, everybody, andwait."
So, only partly relieved of their fears, though frequently upheld by encouraging Doctor Bennett, these good people waited throughout the long, dreary day.
To return to the castaways, it required nearly every minute of the two hours that Dave spent in slumber to prepare those lists and various letters, for they all needed a great deal of revising.
Henrietta's was the last note to be finished, because that ingenious maid added a miraculousnumber of postscripts. All the other missives were tied together with a stout string; when Henrietta, who had seized hers at the last moment to add a request for marshmallows, discovered that Dave, with the large packet inside his shirt, was already making for the path out of the clearing.
Henrietta flew after him with the note, which was addressed very clearly to Mrs. Slater. Dave laughed, thrust the note lightly into the pocket of his shirt, and vanished—Dave had a curious way of melting, with surprising suddenness, from one's sight.
"He'll lose that," declared Henrietta, returning to the group sheltered under a big pine tree—the June sun was bright in the clearing. "I wish it were tied up with the others."
It was fortunate, however, that it was not; for the Indian proved an erratic postman.
It took Dave less time than Mr. Black had supposed it would to reach Lakeville—and a Lakeville friend, dwelling on the outskirts of the town. This hospitable friend consideredit necessary to refresh his visitor with the contents of a large, flat bottle.
Now, Dave was very easily affected by strong drink. After he had parted from his generous host, he remembered hazily that he had something to deliver to somebody—he cherished a dim recollection of a flying, girlish figure, a bright, youthful countenance, and a letter. That was it, a letter. He groped in his trousers pockets. Nothing there. In his loose belt. Nothing there. In the pocket of his dingy shirt. Yes, there it was.
Clutching it firmly, the staggering Indian searched the sky above him with bleared but inquiring eyes.
"What ye lookin' for?" asked Pat Mulligan, the policeman.
"Pos'—pos' office," replied Dave, with a wide, friendly smile. "Let—letters s'mail."
"Give it here," said Pat, "I'm goin' right there myself."
With that, he escorted trusting Dave to the village lockup. This safely accomplished, he studied the address on the birch-bark note.
"Sure," observed Pat, "there's no stamp on this. 'Twas plainly meant to be delivered by hand. On the Avenoo, is it? I'm knowin' the house—I'll take it there."
Which the good-natured officer did, to the great relief of Mrs. Slater, who, in spite of Doctor Bennett's assurances, was almost wild, by this time, with anxiety.
"Dear Granny," extravagant Henrietta had written. "I'm a wild Indian in the loveliest woods in the world. We're all safe and comfortable and we're going to stayforever, so send me a nightie and a toothbrush, some stockings, my tennis shoes, my oldest dress, some underwear; and, if you love me, a clean towel—a fuzzy one. Affectionately, Henrietta.
"P.S.—I'd like a pillow-case,ifyou please. And a sheet.
"P.S.—Oh, yes—I need my hairbrush and my bathing suit.
"P.S.—And a lot of things to eat; bread, pie, cake, cookies, fruit, and fish-hooks.
"P.S.—Please can I have a red bandannahandkerchief and a button to sew on my petticoat. Also, a pair of shoe strings.
"P.S.—Peanuts and everything else you can thing of to eat and wear.
"P.S.—Please send the bundle to Mr. Black's office to Mr. Saunders.
"P.S.—A can of condensed milk for Anthony Fitz-Hubert, if theydocall the poor dear 'Ambrosial Delight.'
"P.S.—A whole bushel of marshmallows forme. I love you."
Mrs. Slater, a bright old lady with sparkling black eyes, not unlike Henrietta's own, read this letter with very evident enjoyment. Then she went to the telephone.
"Is this Doctor Tucker?" she asked. "Have you heard from Bettie? Oh, haven't you? Well, I have—that is, from Henrietta. They are safe and comfortable; and, I should judge from Henrietta's note, uproariously happy. If you'll call up the Bennetts and Marjory's Aunt Jane, I'll tell Mrs. Mapes. Then I'll drive round, presently, and let you see the note—no, she didn't mention the Whale—Ifancy your girls will want as many things as Henrietta does. Don't forget to tell the others—good-by."
This, of course, relieved the anxious minds of the parents; and Doctor Bennett was thoughtful enough to inform Martin that the party was safe.
At ten o'clock the next morning, Dave was given an opportunity to appear before Judge Wilson and tell his story. The delayed notes came to light, and by noon were properly distributed, whereupon there was a grand scurrying in several households; and in Mr. Black's office as well.
"What," asked puzzled Mrs. Bennett, running into Mrs. Tucker's conveniently near house, "did Bettie ask for? This is every word Mabel wrote."
Mrs. Bennett drew a scrap of bark from her blouse. Mrs. Tucker laughed when she read it.
"Dear Mother:" wrote Mabel. "Please send about a thousand bananas. We are going to stay here."
All around this was an elaborate border ofdrawings—attempts at squirrels. Mabel had left no room for further writing.
"I hope," Mrs. Tucker said, eying the drawings, apprehensively, "that that place isn't infested with rats."
"They'rerabbits," explained Mrs. Bennett, with conviction. "Mabel has quite a talent for drawing. But I wish she'dwrittena little more."
"She probably needs all the articles that Bettie asks for," said Mrs. Tucker. "Bettie says she's feeling fine. I suppose they found an empty farmhouse and took possession of it."
"Yes," agreed Mrs. Bennett, "I can justseethem moving into those empty rooms and making them as homelike as possible."
It was a good thing, perhaps, that Mrs. Bennettcouldn'tsee the house that her daughter was living in; for it certainly wasn't much of a house, even with the extra touches that Mr. Black was adding at that very moment. But of course it was better than none. The good lady, re-enforced by Bettie's really useful list, went home to hunt up as many as she couldlocate of Mabel's scattered belongings; for Mabel, ever the untidiest of mortals, kept her wardrobe in the unlikeliest of places.
Poor Mr. Saunders certainly had his hands full collecting all the things for which Mr. Black and his good sister had asked—these hospitable souls were bent on providing their guests with every possible comfort. It was not easy, either, to find a boatman willing or able to go so far—the distance was greater by water than by land.
When all else was packed in Captain Berry's gasoline launch, Mr. Saunders paid Dave's fine and secured his release from the jail, for Mr. Black had written that Dave was to ride with the motley cargo. This cargo was all aboard, even to Mabel's bananas, but it was the morning of the following day before the boat was able to start, because Captain Berry, the launch-man, had discovered at dusk that his gasoline barrel was empty. By that time Dave was missing. But dauntless Mr. Saunders employed Mulligan, the policeman, to find him; and Dave, very much the worse for the liquidportion of his breakfast, was finally loaded, with his snarling dog, aboard the launch. Dave, it was only too plainly evident, was unable to resist the temptations of town life.
At last, however, to the great relief of Mr. Saunders, the launch was started on its way. "I feel," said the weary bachelor, turning away from the wharf, "just like the father of a whole orphan asylum."
BY this time, the castaways were on the brink of starvation. They had feasted all the first day, and, with the prospect of more provisions coming, had eaten all they could hold on the second; that was no small amount, for the fresh air had quickened all their appetites. On the third they ate about all there was left for breakfast.
"We might as well," said Mrs. Crane, "for the boat or the wagon will surely be here by noon, or, at worst, by night."
But, thanks to unreliable Dave, the castaways' calculations were all wrong. Not a crumb arrived that day. For their noon meal, they drank some very weak cocoa, some broken crackers, and some crusts that Mabel had left at breakfast time. Mabel always left her crusts; though now that she had nothing else to eat, they tasted, as Mabel said, almost as good as cake.
"This won't do," said Mr. Black, putting his share of the fragments on Bettie's wooden plate. "I'm going to rob that Indian's wigwam and we'll have a real meal just as soon as we can cook it."
"If we were toads," offered Mabel, disconsolately eying her empty plate, "we could eat toadstools. I saw a lot of awfully queer ones along the road that leads to Barclay's Point."
"Toadstools?" questioned Mr. Black, pausing in his flight. "What were they like?"
"Very pointed at the top," returned Mabel. "Some of them were shaped just like big, smooth eggs and some were spread out flat like a parasol."
"What color were they?"
"Gray—sort of silvery. One of the big ones was all wet on the edges with shoeblacking—all drippy."
"Inky mushrooms!" exclaimed Mr. Black and Mrs. Crane, in one breath.
"Sarah," continued Mr. Black, "you go with Mabel and look at those 'toadstools' while I burglarize Dave's wigwam. Thenwe'll have a meal even if it doesn't happen to be mealtime."
"I guess," mourned Bettie, "we fed too many scraps to the squirrels."
The toadstools proved to be a very fine variety of "inky" mushrooms (long afterwards Jean learned that the proper name for this mushroom wascoprinus atramentarius). They grew in generous clusters and it was great fun to gather the queer, slippery objects and pack them carefully in Mrs. Crane's basket, which was soon filled. Mr. Black returned with a number of potatoes, a saucepan, part of the Indian's venison, some salt, and a little flour.
"That," explained Mr. Black, "is to thicken the gravy. Here, Jean, hand me that frying-pan for my venison cutlets. Marjory, you may run to the beach with these potatoes and wash them. Take this saucepan with you and scour that, too—use sand. I'll build a good fire and get a pail of water. Here come the mushroom gatherers. What luck, Sarah? Phew! Youhavemade a haul!"
"Are they really good to eat?" queried Bettie, distrustfully.
"One of the very best kinds that grow."
"And you're sure that these are that kind?"
"Perfectly sure. Sarah and I used to gather them when we were children, didn't we, Sarah? I'm glad there's a tiny corner of butter left to fry them in."
By the middle of the afternoon, this curiously acquired meal was ready; and, although the potatoes were plain boiled with their jackets on and the gravy was pretty lumpy, it all tasted very good indeed to the hungry castaways.
"I guess," said Mabel, taking most of the credit for the mushrooms to herself, "that I just about saved your lives."
"Or poisoned us," remarked Marjory, who wasn't quite sure that she liked mushrooms. "I'm glad, anyway, that we've enough meat and potatoes and gravy left for another meal."
"That venison," said Mr. Black, beaming at his satisfied family, "was certainly good."
"Mr. Black," queried Henrietta, her black eyes twinkling saucily, "didn't I hear you saythat you were going to have Dave arrested for getting game out of season? What happens to people thateatit out of season?"
"They get arrested, imprisoned, and fined," said Mr. Black, "provided the game warden catches them. I'm glad you asked that question, Henrietta. Girls, you are not to mention this venison in town or to any chance visitor that may come this way. And don't point out that wigwam to any stranger—there are too many evidences of Dave's crimes about the place. Besides, they're on my property—theymighthold me responsible."
"Particularly if they caught you with the bones on your plate," remarked Mrs. Crane, dryly. "And, in any case, you stole that venison."
"Dave owes me a lot more than this for rent," returned Mr. Black. "But we won't have to break any game laws if Saunders sends the fishing tackle I ordered. There are three good meals a day swimming about in our own river."
"What," asked Bettie, "is that net for—theone that Dave left on the beach? Why can't you fish with that?"
"By Jove!" exclaimed Mr. Black, "thatisfishing tackle. But that's against the law, too. It's to stretch across the river for trout; but that form of sport isn't permitted. Still——"
"Peter, youwouldn't!" protested Mrs. Crane.
"Sarah, Iwould—if it were necessary to keep us from hunger. But if I ever do—girls,whateverI do, you must remember about that game warden."
"We will," promised Henrietta.
"We will," chorused the others.
And when the time came, they did; but you shall hear about that after awhile.
The castaways were up bright and early the next morning. For one thing the mosquitoes troubled them; hitherto the light breeze blowing across their camp ground had kept these pests away; but the night had been unusually still and the tantalizing insects had discovered the sleeping campers. For another thing, everybody wanted to be up and as much dressed aspossible when the boat or the wagon should come. This uncertainty as to whether relief would arrive by land or approach by water added very considerably to the excitement. It wasn't possible for the girls to do much of anything except to run by turns to the spot whence one could look down the road and to that other spot from which one could view the lake. Unfortunately there was no one spot that commanded both these avenues of approach.
Just at noon, a shrill screech from Marjory, prancing precariously on the edge of the bank, announced that relief was in sight.
"A ship—a ship!" shrieked keen-sighted Marjory.
"Where away?" demanded Mr. Black.
"There she blows!" quoted Marjory, employing the only other nautical term she could call to mind and pointing with an extended forefinger.
"That's not a whale—that's a boat," scoffed Henrietta, who had traveled. "It's whales that blow."
"I don't care," returned Marjory. "And boats do too, when they have whistles. Anyhow, I saw it first—— Look out, Mabel!"
But the frail edge of the bank had already crumbled under weighty Mabel, who, unexpectedly, shot downward to the beach. No harm was done, however, for the sand was clean and soft.
"Mabel," laughed Mr. Black, "you'll have my whole hundred-and-twenty acres in the lake if you don't stop tumbling off the edge of my property. This isn't the first time you've taken a large slice off the landscape."
"It's about the ninth," admitted Mabel, scrambling back to the grassy top. "I'm always forgetting how easily it breaks away."
"That's because it sticks out a little over the top," explained sage Jean. "In very stormy weather the waves wash against the bank and scoop it out."
"I suppose thatisour boat," said Mr. Black, rubbing his chin, "and I hope my razor's on it—I must look like a pirate by this time, or a tramp."
Coatless Mr. Black, without his daily shave and with his broken suspenders mended with odd bits of twine, certainly did look rather unlike his usually neat self.
"That boat isn't coming very fast," complained Marjory.
"It's a very clear day," explained Mrs. Crane, "so you can see a long distance. That boat is probably several miles away."
In spite of their impatience, the boat remained several miles away for a long, long time.
"If thatisa boat," said Mr. Black, "it's the very slowest one on Lake Superior."
"Perhaps," suggested Jean, "it's going the other way."
But the boat was neither going nor coming. The engine had balked; and Captain Berry, for it reallywasCaptain Berry, was waiting, as he had often waited before, for his defective electrical apparatus to get good and ready to work.
IT was three o'clock before the speck on the water began to show signs of life.
"Hurrah!" cried Bettie, who spent much time lying on her stomach on the beach with her heels in the air, since she was not permitted to use them recklessly for walking purposes. "I hear something 'chugging.' Listen, everybody."
"I do believe it's really coming," announced Marjory, who was perched on a fallen pine tree, whose upturned root rested edgewise on the bank while its trunk, firmly upheld by the stout stubs of its broken branches, extended far out over the shallow water. Light-footed Marjory delighted in running the length of that log, or in perching at its outer end. Henrietta enjoyed it, too. Sometimes all the girls sat on it in a giggling row, with their feet dangling over the water.
"Yes," said Mr. Black, rolling up his sleeves (there would be plenty of work for all hands when the boat should arrive), "that craft is certainly headed this way."
"By the way," said Mr. Black, with a comprehensive glance that swept the entire group, "how many of you would like to go home when that boat goes back?"
"Not I," cried Bettie.
"Not I," echoed Jean.
"Nor I," said Marjory.
"I'm going to stay forever," declared Henrietta.
"As for me," said Mabel, "I feel as if I'd only just got here!"
"You don't look it," said Henrietta; "there's a suspiciously dark ring about your neck, your wrists are black, and you're fairly bursting out between your buttons."
"Well," retorted Mabel, "there isn't much use in taking a bath when you haven't any soap or towels or clean clothes. You just wait till my—gracious!"
"What's the matter?" asked Jean; for overMabel's plump and not over-clean countenance had spread a look of blank dismay.
"I never asked for a thing but bananas," groaned the youngest member of Mr. Black's flock.
"You can string the skins and wear those," suggested Henrietta, wickedly, for she delighted in teasing Mabel. "You've seen pictures of Fiji Islanders, haven't you? Well, no doubt you'll come to that."
"Never mind," soothed Jean, the peacemaker. "Mother always sends a lot more of everything than anybody needs; so perhaps I'll be able to lend you a thing or two. I'd do anything to stay."
"How is it with you, Sarah?" asked Mr. Black. "Doyouwant to go home?"
"Peter," replied Mrs. Crane, "thisishome."
"I'm beginning to think," said Mr. Black, "that we were all born wild Indians. I don't want to go home myself; and I hope that Saunders won't send any news that will make me feel that I ought to. How about you,Ambrosial Delight? Doyoulike the woods, little cat?"
The frisky kitten, always responsive to attention, scrambled up Mr. Black's leg, leaped to his broad shoulder, and began running in a circle round and round Mr. Black's neck.
"He says," interpreted Henrietta, "that he wouldn't go home for the best cow's milk in the country."
At last the boat, headed straight for the shore, was so near that the campers could see that every available inch of the craft was filled with boxes, bundles, and baskets. The excited little girls pranced so recklessly on the edge of the bank that a lot more of it crumbled and rolled to the beach, a youngster or two with it. Mabel, anxious to obtain a closer view of the boat's cargo, as Captain Berry dropped anchor, rushed recklessly toward the end of the long, prostrate pine.
"Oh!" shrieked Marjory, "you're shaking the whole log! Oh! Oh! Don't touchme!"
But Marjory's admonition came too late. Plump, clumsy Mabel, feeling the need ofsome other support than the log afforded, flung her arms about her slender comrade. There was another alarmed shriek from Marjory, two wildly scrambling figures clutching at empty air—and a prodigious splash. The water at this point was just knee deep; enough of it, fortunately, to break the girls' fall and not enough to drown them.
Dave and his dog plunged overboard from the launch and waded rapidly to the rescue. That is, Dave waded and Onota swam. Mr. Black, too, waded hurriedly to the spot where Mabel, on all-fours, was endeavoring to stand upright and where Marjory was thrashing about like a frenzied trout.
Dave seized one, Mr. Black the other, and, in another moment the girls were safe on their feet, gasping, sputtering, and trying to wipe their wet faces on their wetter skirts.
"It's a good thing," said Mr. Black, leading his half of the rescued victims ashore, "that your dry clothes are in sight."
"I only hope they are," breathed Mabel. "I didn'taskfor any."
As there was no dock, the launch could not be taken very close to shore, so her cargo was carefully unloaded by Captain Berry into one of the three small boats that he was towing. Dave, already so wet that a little more moisture did not matter, pushed this smaller craft ashore. The boat's nose was drawn up on a strip of wet sand, perhaps three feet across. Next to this came about twenty feet of dry, white sand. After that a sand bank eight feet high led by a steep path to the grassy plateau above.
"All hands unload," shouted Mr. Black, seizing some of the lighter parcels and tossing them up to Mrs. Crane, who carried them back a few yards from the edge and piled them under a tree. The girls grabbed baskets and bundles, too, and scrambled up the steep bank with them and scurried down again for more. Mabel and Marjory worked also, which was better than sitting still in wet clothes; and Dave, Captain Berry, and Mr. Black toiled up the bank with the heavier articles. When the first boat load was cared for, the little craftwas rowed back to the launch for another cargo—it made four trips.
Two of the small boats that Captain Berry had towed behind the launch were pulled high on the beach, with oars and oar-locks laid carefully inside. The girls were delighted when they learned that they were to be left at the camp.
Some of the baskets and bundles were addressed to the little girls and you may be certain that it wasn't long before those eager children had the wrappings torn from their many parcels.
"Hey!" shrieked Mabel, prancing heavily on one foot and waving aloft a pair of stockings and a freshly laundered petticoat, "theydidsend my clothes, and my bananas, too. Now I can dress up."
Everybody laughed, because, if ever a human being looked in need of clean garments, Mabel did. Her tumble into the lake, followed by sundry other tumbles up and down the sand bank, had certainly not improved the appearance of Mabel's pink gingham frock.
"I've two clean dresses, too," added Mabel, after another excursion into her basket, "and a cake of soap."
At sight of the soap, the girls fairly shrieked with mirth.
"For goodness' sake," advised Marjory, "go use it."
Mr. Black found the hammer he had sent for (fortunately Saunders had marked the outside of all the parcels that he had packed, so that one could be reasonably certain as to the nature of the contents) and knocked the covers off all the boxes in order to ascertain if everything he had ordered had been sent. When he and Mrs. Crane were satisfied as to this matter, they told Captain Berry that everything was all right.
"But," suggested Mrs. Crane, "hadn't he better come back in about a week to see if we need anything? And there's the Whale——"
"We can send Dave to town again if we find we need provisions. And Saunders writes that he couldn't tell from Dave's directions how to reach us with horses and would awaitfurther orders concerning the car. Now that I have tools I can build a temporary shelter over the Whale."
"I'll have to be starting homeward pretty soon," said Captain Berry, who had been casting anxious glances at the sky. "Those clouds are traveling pretty fast and there's considerable ripple on the water. There'll be something doing before morning."
"Rain?" asked Mrs. Crane, anxiously.
"Wind," said the Captain, "but there may be rain, too."
"If that's the case, we'd better get those tents up at once," said Mr. Black, "and then we shan't care if it does rain. We have five tents and plenty of blankets."
"Well," offered Captain Berry, "if you've five tents to put up, I guess I'd better help you; but you mustn't keep me too long."
Fortunately, poles and stakes came with the tents and the ground in the grassy clearing was level. Soon, with valuable assistance from Dave, a large octagonal tent of gaily striped canvas was in place.
"This," said Mr. Black, viewing it with satisfaction, "is our dining-room."
Next, the three men hurriedly put up a large, straight-walled sleeping tent that looked very clean and new.
"This," said Mr. Black, wiping the perspiration from his brow, "is for you five girls—you'll have room for your bed and space enough to dress in."
Of the remaining tents, one was for Mrs. Crane, another for Mr. Black, and the third was for the provisions. As soon as the tents were up, and good Captain Berry was chug-chugging away as fast as he could in his very much lightened launch, there was plenty of work for all hands to do. Provisions were placed under cover, fresh balsam beds were arranged in the three sleeping tents—Dave brought the boughs and made the beds—and the girls stored their bundles of clothing in their big bedroom.
In addition to garments for their charges, the three mothers, Marjory's Aunty Jane, and Henrietta's grandmother had sent large baskets of delightful things to eat. Mrs. Slaterhad sent two roasted chickens, some bread, a huge frosted cake, and some oranges; besides all the things for which Henrietta had asked. Mrs. Mapes had dispatched bread, doughnuts, and three gigantic apple pies. Mrs. Bennett's contributions were some fine home-made rolls, a large veal loaf, a big box of cookies, besides a huge basket of bananas for her daughter Mabel. Aunty Jane had sent four kinds of pickles, four kinds of jelly, four kinds of jam, and a large beefsteak. Mrs. Tucker had added a large jar of baked beans, a generous salad, and two big pans of gingerbread.
"I guess," said Mrs. Crane, almost overwhelmed with these contributions to her pantry, "we won't have to use the flour, the yeast cakes, and the tin oven I sent for, just yet awhile."
"Nor the potatoes, canned things, and other provisions thatIordered," said Mr. Black. "We're certainly bountifully supplied with food."
"We'll have a ready-made supper to-night," promised Mrs. Crane.
"If you'll wait half an hour," said Mr. Black, "we'll have a table to eat it on. Now that I have nails and a saw, we can have real furniture."
Dave and Mr. Black made not only a table but four benches, each long enough to hold four persons. The table had to have a hole in the center to accommodate the tent pole; but Mr. Black managed that. Then he fastened two lamps with reflectors to the pole, Mrs. Crane spread a big sheet of white oil-cloth over the table, and the dining-room was complete.
Jean begged a number of wooden boxes from which the contents had been removed. "We can put our extra clothes in them," said she, "and keep our toilet articles on top. I'm so glad to have a hairbrush that I feel as if I ought to frame it."
"Anything more to build?" asked Mr. Black.
"I'd like a cupboard for my dishes," said Mrs. Crane, who was setting the attractive table. "But you needn't make it to-night.It's a good thing the plates came—our wooden ones wouldn't have stood another washing. And I'm glad to have a dishpan."
"Wasn't the lake big enough?"
"It wasn't in the right place. Where's Dave? He seems to think he belongs to us. Hadn't we better give him some supper?"
"Yes. If you'll put something on a plate I'll carry it to him—he's gone to his wigwam. I want to tell him that we took his venison and potatoes. Here, that's enough—I can't carrythreeplates."
EVERY one had been too busy to think about the weather. But, when supper was on the table, Mrs. Crane noticed that Jean's dark hair had been blown about her face, that Henrietta's, too, was flying about in loose locks, and that the loose canvas at the doorway of the big tent was flapping noisily.
"Look at the lake!" cried Marjory. "It's all mussed up and queer, like somethingboiling. I hope Captain Berry got home safely."
"The wind is in his favor and he has had sufficient time. But that's a pretty angry sea—I guess Dave and I had better pull those boats to the top of the bank, after supper. We're going to have some waves thatarewaves before morning."
The lake, at that hour, however, was not so rough as it was threatening. Its surface was of a dark, dull slate-color, marked with longlines of deep blue and blackish purple. Some hidden force seemed to be lifting it from underneath as if, as Marjory said, it were boiling, or at least getting ready to boil. The sun had dropped behind the distant hills without leaving the usual rose-pink afterglow. Overhead, dark clouds were scurrying toward the southwest; but as yet the waves had not gathered sufficient strength to be very noisy. The air was colder; and that, too, seemed filled with hidden threats and half-whispered warnings.
"I'm thankful," said Mr. Black, carving more roasted chicken for Bettie, who said that all fowlsshouldhave had eight legs apiece, "that we have good, sound tents to sleep in to-night and that Captain Berry knew how to put them up so they'd stay. After we've pulled the boat up, Dave and I will see if any of the ropes need tightening. There is one thing that everybody must remember. If it rains, you must not touch the canvas—that makes it leak."
It was too windy for a fire on the beach that night, so the castaways, in their warmsweaters, sat round the dining-room table, and, by the light of the big lamps enjoyed the magazines that Mr. Saunders had thoughtfully included. They were particularly interested in the advertisements of tents, boats, and other camp-y things.
Just as Bettie was certain that her eyes would not stay open a single moment longer, there was a loud crash near at hand.
"Now what?" cried startled Mrs. Crane, who was hemming some of the queer dish-toweling that inexperienced Mr. Saunders had been obliged to select, "is that? Not thunder, I hope."
"Our late residence, I suspect," returned Mr. Black. "It's a good thing we moved out when we did—I guess I'd better rescue that tablecloth."
By this time the waves were running high and dashing savagely against the bank. Usually the hurrying clouds obscured the moon; but, whenever it gleamed forth for a moment, it showed a foaming, furious sea—their calm, beautiful, softly tinted lake was gone.
"I'm glad," shuddered Bettie, "that I'm not out there in a boat."
"I hope," said Jean, "that nobody is. A little boat would be smashed to bits."
"Wouldn't it be dreadful," suggested Henrietta, "if a ship were wrecked right down there on the beach? Anyway, I guess we'd find it pretty exciting."
"Or the ship would," offered Marjory.
"Let's hopehard," said Bettie, "that all the ships and sailors are in snug, safe harbors—When I go to bed to-night I'm going to make a little prayer about it."
But, in spite of Bettie's little prayer, if, indeed, she remembered to make it, there were several ships abroad that night; and a passenger on one of the smallest and least significant was probably, at that very moment, sailing into this story; but many other things happened before he was unceremoniously tumbled into the tale; and you must have them in their turn.
All night long the heavy surf pounded and thundered on the beach. All night long thewind howled and shrieked. But the castaways, snug in their strong new tents and their warm, red blankets, slept through all the turmoil.
They were obliged, next morning, to forego the pleasure of washing their faces in the lake; but the river, with some help from the bright new dishpan, served as well. Dave's ice-cold spring provided them with excellent drinking water.
"This storm," said Mr. Black, arranging a temporary shelter for the fire, "will bring us plenty of driftwood. We can have benches under the trees and an extra table or two—I expect to get thin, building things."
"Well, it won't hurt you," returned Mrs. Crane. "You can begin by building that fire—I'm ready to cook."
Previously to this time, the days had been warm and comparatively quiet; but to-day it was decidedly cold. The wind, sweeping through the clearing, carried off all the bits of paper and string that the eager girls had torn from their parcels the night before andthoughtlessly scattered about. It was necessary to fasten things down to keep them from swirling out of sight. The big waves still thundered in and their white spray dashed high above the edge of the battered bank.
But, for all that, it proved a delightful day, because the clear air was wonderfully bracing, the campers were really camping, and one could escape the buffeting of the wind and the continuous roar of the waves by taking long walks in the sheltered trails and roads.
"This," said Mr. Black, when the morning's work was done, "would be a good time to walk to Barclay's Point to see the waves. These are just tiny wavelets beside what we'll see over there—they'll be perfectly terrific on the north side of that peninsula. Iwasgoing to fish in the river with those nice angleworms that Saunders sent; but I can take you there first and do my fishing afterwards."
There were two ways of getting to Barclay's Point. In ordinary weather, one walked up the beach. In stormy weather, there was a very roundabout way by the road and a moredirect route by a woodsy trail that wasn't exactly visible—onefeltrather than saw it. Some persons have an instinct for following trails. Jean had it, Marjory had it to a lesser degree; but Mabel and Henrietta were without it; while Dave, Indian that he was, could see trails where none existed for any one else. Since Jean possessed the trail-instinct, she walked ahead, while Mr. Black, in order to keep Mabel and Henrietta from straying from the path, marched behind. Mrs. Crane remained in camp with Bettie, who was not yet permitted to take long walks.
To reach Barclay's, one crossed the river twice. The first crossing was easy, for there was a rude bridge built of heavy timber. But the second was a different matter. Nature had provided a bridge by conveniently dropping a huge tree across the stream, which was wide and about three feet deep at this point. The log—the branches had long ago been chopped away—was very wide at one end but tapered somewhat toward the other. When the water was low, there was room for acanoe to pass under this log. Jean walked steadily across it, Marjory flitted over it like a bird, Henrietta, with fancy steps that would have been impossible for the others even on solid ground, danced across; but Mabel, wavering and wabbling, had to be assisted by Mr. Black, who stretched forth a helping hand the moment she began to falter.
"I guess," declared Mabel, indignantly, "that old tree was a slippery elm."
"No," returned Mr. Black, "it was pine, and a big fellow at that. It's been here for many years."
"How can you tell?" queried Henrietta.
"See that birch tree growing from the upper side of its root? That birch has had time to grow from a seed into a good-sized tree since some mighty tornado or some unusual freshet uprooted this great pine—pine does not rot as quickly as some of the harder woods."
"I see one reason why it fell," asserted Jean. "There's water bubbling out down there, under the root."
"So there is," said Mr. Black. "I'm gladI brought my cup—that's a spring. We'll have a drink."
So everybody drank some of the clear, cold water before proceeding to Barclay's.
There was no sign of civilization at Barclay's Point; just a long, rocky promontory that ran out into the lake and, in fair weather, furnished a fine place to fish from. Its north coast was particularly rough and jagged. Here, as Mr. Blank had prophesied, the waves, roaring and booming like ceaseless artillery, struck with tremendous force against the rocks and dashed to prodigious heights—a grand and unforgettable sight.
But Mabel's sweater was not unforgettable. She had taken it off because she was too warm after the steep climb to the spot from which the waves presented the finest spectacle (nobody wanted to gettooclose to all that mountain of water) and anchored the garment firmly to the ground by means of a heavy stone. She returned to camp without missing it—she had something more exciting to think of, for Henrietta had mentioned that one ofthe contributions from her grandmother was a large box of candy.
"We'll have some," promised Henrietta, "as soon as we get back to camp."
Naturally Mabel, who was inordinately fond of sweet things and who had had no candy for a week, forgot all about her gray sweater, so near the color of the rocks that nobody else noticed it. But, notwithstanding the discomfort she endured without it, she was glad afterwards that shehadforgotten it.