BY the time Dave returned, Aunty Jane had been separated from Terrible Tim and a large number of loose quills. All the others had embarked, but Aunty Jane, breathing dire threats, still lingered to look for Marjory.
"Are you sure," asked Henrietta, sincerely, "that she didn't go aboard with that last boat-load? I don't think she was here when poor Timothy tumbled out of that tree."
"Didhe tumble?" snapped Aunty Jane. "Ithink he jumped."
At this moment, Dave—the only person who knew exactly how Terrible Tim happened to land where he did—joined in the search for Marjory.
"Ah'm smell pooty good," asserted crafty Dave, crawling about on all-fours and making an elaborate pretense of sniffing at the sand,"and Ah'm sure dose gal ees mak' som' track for dose boat."
"Hi there!" shouted Mr. Black, from the beach. "Captain says he can't wait a moment longer—other boat's halfway home by now. Or are you going to stay with us, Miss Higgins? There's plenty of room."
"No, I'mnot," snapped Aunty Jane, fleeing down the bank. "With your dirty Indians and your flying beasts this is no place for a decent woman."
It is said that one disagreeable person in camp can spoil the very pleasantest party, and the saying must be true, for with Aunty Jane at Pete's Patch nothing had seemed quite right—the luster was gone from everything—even the sky. But, as Captain Berry's delayed launch began the determined chug-chugging that soon carried the little boat into deeper water, everybody on shore breathed a sigh of relief; and overhead, as Henrietta pointed out, laughingly, a tiny patch of gold glimmered among the clouds.
"They say," mused Mr. Black, "that livingclose to Nature brings out all your traits more strongly."
"Yes, Peter," laughed Mrs. Crane, "I've noticed that you're lazier here than you were in town."
"I was thinking," returned Mr. Black, with dignity, "that folks with sharp tongues and twisted tempers ought never to venture into the woods."
Aunty Jane was a good mile from shore before Dave turned, with his wickedest grin, toward the castaways.
"Come wit' me," he invited. "Ah'm fool dose aunt lady, Ah'm t'ink."
"What do you mean?" demanded Mr. Black.
"Come wit' me," repeated Dave, with the most complacent of smiles. "Ah'm show you som' deer in a trap—Ah'm snare heem just now."
Of course Mr. Black and the girls wanted to see so unusual a sight as a trapped deer; but when they discovered that the deer was a dear, their own beloved Marjory, their astonishmentwas great. And of course they were no less surprised to see Rosa Marie and Mahjigeezigoqua, her almost unspellable mother.
"Marjory!" gasped Jean. "We thought you were on the boat!"
"Marjory," panted Mabel. "All your clothesareon that boat."
"These aren't," returned Marjory, indicating what she had on. "And my skin isn't—I can wear that, if I have to."
"Granny brought me loads of things," assured Henrietta. "I guess you won't need to come down to skin."
"Marjory," demanded Mr. Black, rather severely for so mild a man, "do you mean to say that you were naughty enough to deliberately hide from Aunty Jane?"
Marjory colored, but remained silent. It occurred to her suddenly that telling the truth would seem a good deal like disloyalty to Dave—Dave, who had been her friend. As Marjory was not in the habit of fibbing, she didn't know what to say.
"Eef dose gal won't ron away on herself,"explained Dave, promptly exonerating Marjory from all blame, "me, Ah'm mus' ron away wit' heem. Ah'm pull heem into de bush and ron, ron lak' de dev' (devil). Hey, li'le gal; Ah'm good frien' to you, hey? An' now dose aunt, w'at smell too strong wit' hees nose, ees gone two-t'ree mile, Ah'm t'ink."
"Dave," queried Mr. Black, shaking his head soberly, "is there any way of discovering what youdothink? Are you all rascal or are you part angel—with the angel part very much disguised? I can't make you out."
But this was too deep for Dave.
"Ah'm t'ink," replied Dave, replying to only the first part of Mr. Black's question, "dat dose poor li'le Margy ees don't want to go home wit' hees aunt. Me, Ah'm not care for go home wit' dose aunt maself."
At this the delighted girls shrieked with mirth, for the idea of Aunty Jane taking Dave home with her would have amused even Dave's solemn dog. Mr. Black, however, still frowned slightly, for Dave puzzled him.
"Dave," said he, "you're altogether too fullof tricks. I suppose you don't know what courtesy toward a woman means; but you've certainly been ruder than you should have been to poor Miss Higgins. You'll have to go to Lakeville to-night and tell that poor woman that Marjory is safe—perhaps I'd better write her a note so she won't blame Marjory."
"Ah'm go right off," agreed Dave, cheerfully. "Maybe Ah'm find som' more queelt on hees line."
"Dave, you incorrigible rascal," stormed Mr. Black, "you let that lady's clothesline alone. Steal one offmyline, if you must have a quilt—I'm better able to spare it."
"Ah'm good frien' toyou," protested Dave, earnestly, with the outstretched hand of good-fellowship. "You shake hon dat?"
"I hope you are," returned Mr. Black, shaking the proffered hand. "But, Dave, your conscience is like that river—no one could possibly map its windings. And after this, my man, you must be a good friend to myfriends, as well as to me. Now let's go back to camp and see what our Billy boy is doing."
Dave, evidently somewhat troubled, for he still had an unconfessed misdeed on his mind, followed the castaways back to the clearing. They found Mrs. Crane sitting disconsolately on the bench outside her tent.
"That boy's so blue," she confided, advancing to meet them, "that I'm staying outside to give him a chance to cry. I guess he thought the doctor was going to cure him right off and he's terribly disappointed."
"Couldn't we tell him about Dave and Aunty Jane?" queried Bettie. "That ought to cheer anybody—just think, Mrs. Crane, Dave hid Marjory in his wigwam, with Rosa Marie and her mother."
"Rosa Marie! And didn't Marjory go on the boat?"
"No, Marjory's back there with Mabel and Rosa Marie—she's Dave's niece."
"Dave's niece! Well, well——"
"I guess Dave doesn't like Aunty Jane," interrupted Henrietta. "I can't be sure—it was all so exciting just then—but IthinkDave slid down the trunk of one of those big trees justafter Terrible Tim landed between Aunty Jane and that bundle."
"She might have been badly hurt," said Mrs. Crane, indignantly. "Dave, come here a moment—I want to talk to you. Did you drop that porcupine into Miss Higgins' lap?"
"Eef som' porkypine ees go for drop," returned Dave, whimsically, "eet ees good dat he ees land on som' sof' plass. Som' tam', Ah'm tole, she's rain cat an' dog; som' tam' she's rain porkypine. W'at for? Me, Ah'm can't tole you. De sky she ees made dose way."
"Well," warned Mrs. Crane, "you'd better see to it, Dave, that it doesn't rain any more porcupines—I don't like such tricks."
"Ah'm not please nobody," sighed Dave, dolefully, "w'en Ah'm try all day to help all dose body."
"But, Dave," remonstrated Mrs. Crane, "you do so many wrong things. You stole that quilt from Miss Higgins' line, didn't you?"
"Yas," replied Dave. "Dose blanket, too."
"Dave, you poor benighted creature! Don't you know it's wrong to steal?"
"Yas," admitted incorrigible Dave, with an unmistakable twinkle in his eye. "Ah'm t'ink so, w'en som'body ees eat up all dose venison of me. She's very bad for stole all dose meat—Me, Ah'm have no dinnaire, me. Halso, Ah'm got no suppaire, Ah'msoppose. Mus' break som' more game law——"
"Dave!" cried Mrs. Crane, contritely. "You sit right down at that table and I'll give you the best meal you ever ate."
"But," mourned the wily half-breed, seating himself, nevertheless, "Rosa Marie, ma sistaire, too, mus' dose two starve?"
"Why—why, no!" gasped Mrs. Crane. "I'll fix something for them, too."
"Som' day," promised Dave, sincerely, "Ah'm geeve you som' good fat moskrat."
Too polite to say so, Mrs. Crane hoped fervently that Dave would forget that promise; she was quite certain that she wouldn't enjoy eating a "good fat muskrat," or even a very thin one.
WHILE Mrs. Crane was supplying Dave with a bountiful meal, the girls were telling Billy about Rosa Marie, Marjory, Aunty Jane, the porcupine—in short, all the news of that eventful day. Billy, with brightening eyes, was certainly enjoying it all, particularly the part about Terrible Tim.
"Once," began Billy, reminiscently, "when I was a kid I saw——"
But what Billy had seen could only be guessed, for the brightness slipped from his eyes and he pulled the corner of his blanket over his face.
"I can't remember a blamed thing," he mumbled, with a catch in his throat.
"Cheer up," teased Henrietta, gently. "Nobody 'dwantto remember anything that looks like Terrible Tim. But when you see him, you'll probably remember what you weregoing to say. Did they tell you that you're to come outside to-morrow and lie in a hammock with soft-boiled eggs? Oh, I mean you're toeatthe eggs. Aren't you glad?"
"I like eggs," said the boy, uncovering one eye. "Chicken, too, and roast beef."
"Perhaps Dave will get you a partridge—Doctor Bennett said you could eat that. Did you ever eat partridge?"
"Yes," returned Billy.
"Where?" demanded Bettie and Henrietta, with one voice.
"At—at—oh, it's gone!" wailed Billy, "when I had it right at the end of my tongue."
"Don't worry," soothed motherly Jean. "You're alotbetter than you were yesterday. We can all see that."
"Think so? Well, maybe I am. Is that—yes, itismilk toast. Tastes just like food.SureI'm ready for another bite."
"It's the good sweet cream those people brought," said Mrs. Crane.
"I hope," murmured Billy, between bites, "they'll come often."
"I don't," protested Mabel. "Visitors are a nuisance—they stir things up too much."
"Her mother scrubbed her," laughed Henrietta, "and brushed a lot of sand out of her hair—didn't you hear terrible wails? But Mabel was glad to see her mother, just the same."
The threatening clouds that had so alarmed the two launch-men passed harmlessly over Pete's Patch; and the next day proved so fine that Billy was moved to a hammock under the trees, where the overlapping leaves of huge maples formed a most attractive roof. The change agreed with him; fortified with fresh eggs and fresh air he grew stronger with astonishing rapidity; a rapidity that proved alarming to Mrs. Crane; for, like Bettie, this new invalid was no sooner on his feet than he made tracks for the alluring lake.
"If I had a bathing suit," said Billy, when Mrs. Crane had, for the fourth time, forbidden him to wade in the lake, "I'd go inswimming—then you couldn't pull me out so easily."
"But, Billy——"
"All right, I'll be good," promised Billy,"but that's a mighty fine bunch of water—say, couldn't youmakesome swimming tights for a chap?"
"When you're strong enough to swim," agreed Mrs. Crane.
Physically, young Billy improved by leaps and bounds; but the stronger he grew, the more he worried over his strange lapses of memory.
"Sometimes I dream things," complained Billy, one day. "And when I wake up I wonder how much of it is true. Last night I thought I was falling down, down out of an airship and I called 'Mother, mother! I can't find my umbrella.'"
"Have you a mother?" asked Jean, quickly.
"I don't know. But I think so—I dream of some person who says: 'Now don't do that, Lad—Lad——'"
"Laddie," supplied Bettie, promptly.
"Laddie!" shouted the boy. "That's it—it didn't get awaythattime."
"Sometimes," said Laddie-Billy, another day, "when Dave comes into sight, Ialmostcall him by another name; but the name doesn'tquite come—I think I've known somebody—in a boat, perhaps—that looked like him."
There were many things, fortunately, that the boy had not forgotten. He handled his knife and fork properly, ate his soup daintily, and proved later that he had once been able to row a boat; though at first, of course, his strength had been unequal to very strenuous efforts with the oars. In spite of his unhappy experience with the lake, he seemed, strangely enough, to be exceedingly fond of the water and to feel not the slightest fear of it. Mrs. Crane, indeed, would have been glad to find him more cowardly; for, long before the purposely delayed bathing suit was ready, Billy had gone in swimming in his only clothes. Also, it was next to impossible to keep him out of the boats.
Time proved, too, that the water-loving castaway was a bright lad. He could read and write very readily in English, knew a little French, and was rather clever at figures. Often, when glancing through the advertising pages of magazines, his expressive face wouldlight up and Laddie-Billy (as the girls now called him to please Mabel) would exclaim, joyfully: "I've seenthatpicture before."
But the things that the curiously afflicted boywantedto remember refused obstinately to come; and this grieved him sorely.
"I suppose," said Billy, one balmy evening, when all the youngsters were roasting potatoes between two glowing logs, "I'm really well enough to go home, but—but whereismy home?"
"You needn't worry about that," assured Mrs. Crane. "We're more than willing to keep you right here—as long as you don't tumble out of those boats."
"Yes," added Mr. Black, heartily, "we really need a boy to help us when Dave is busy breaking the game laws. I'm only afraid that Saunders will come along some day with an answer to that advertisement. You're well worth keeping, my lad."
"I'm glad of that," smiled Billy, cheered by these kindly assurances. "I'll try to be, anyway."
"Wealllike you," declared Mabel, "even if youaregetting fat."
"Am I?" queried Laddie-Billy, anxiously. "Gracious! If I do, these clothes—can it be that I'll come to wearing a blue plaid bathing suitallthe time?"
For Mrs. Crane, for want of other material, was slowly converting her biggest and most gorgeous gingham apron into a decidedly queer bathing costume for her lively charge.
"The bagginess," Mrs. Crane explained, when the castaway suggested mildly that part of the cloth might be saved for other purposes, "will fill up with air and keep you from sinking."
And naughty Henrietta had added, under her breath: "Behold Billy Blue-eyes, the Human Balloon."
DURING the blissful summer that Jean, Bettie, Mabel, and Marjory had spent in Dandelion Cottage, and before the coming of Henrietta, the little girls had frequently found themselves in need of real money for their make-believe housekeeping. In order to procure the needed funds, they had rented a room to a charming young woman named Miss Blossom.
Miss Blossom's father, an organ tuner by profession, visited many towns in the course of a year. In July, while the castaways were still in camp, some portion of the Presbyterian organ in Lakeville went wrong; and skilful Mr. Blossom, summoned to that town to repair it, was accompanied by his very pleasant daughter. Of course the very first thing she did was to ask for her young friends.
"We've only three days to spend here," saidshe, "but Ishouldlike to see those darling girls—I've thought of them so many, many times."
"Suppose," said Mrs. Bennett, to whom Miss Blossom had appealed, "you go to Mr. Saunders—he may be sending things up."
"Mr. William Saunders?" queried the young woman, with interest. "Oh—I met him when I was here last summer. Thank you—I'll get father to take me to his office this noon."
So that is how it happened that the ever-useful Saunders, who had been commissioned to supply Laddie-Billy with a wardrobe, loaded Miss Blossom aboard Captain Berry's launch that very afternoon. And then, feeling certain that the pleasant and very pretty young woman would be lonely with no one but the captain for company, Mr. Saunders added himself to the load.
The castaways, always eager for the arrival of parcels from home, were all on the beach to welcome the unexpected visitors. Even Billy, who declared that he had never feltbetter in his life, was part of the sunburnt group.
"I know," lamented Billy, "that those clothes'll be too small—I've grown a foot since Mr. Black measured me three days ago."
"Oh, not a whole foot," protested Mrs. Crane, eying her patient with pride. "But I do think you're a credit to my nursing."
"It isn't everybody," beamed Billy, "that has such a fine nurse—shall I help with that boat, Mr. Black?"
"No, Dave'll take her out."
"Why!" cried Marjory, "there arepeoplegetting into Captain Berry's skiff."
"I think," said Jean, a moment later, "that the man is Mr. Saunders; but I don't know the lady—I can't see her face."
"She looks young," said Marjory, with a sigh of relief. "Too young to be Aunty Jane. Just at first—Ugh! I was scared—Oh! It's——"
"Why!" cried Billy, springing suddenly to his feet and rushing straight toward the landing place, "it's Miss Blossom!"
"Miss Blossom!" gasped Jean, gazing in open-eyed amazement at the others.
"Miss Blossom!" echoed Mabel.
"Miss Blossom!" breathed Bettie. "Oh! Look at Billy! It reallyisMiss Blossom, and he knows her!"
It certainly looked as if Billy, the unknown castaway, had found a friend; for, not waiting for the boat to land, he had rushed into the water (it was shallow, you remember, for a long distance) and had seized the surprised young woman in a bearlike hug.
"Miss Blossom! Miss Blossom!" he cried, hopefully. "Whatismy name?"
"Why, my dear Laddie," returned the overwhelmed (and almost overturned) young woman, "what does all this mean? Never before was I so warmly greeted by any young man. Is this—Oh, Isee. You're the sick and shipwrecked boy that Mr. Saunders—butyou'renot sick!"
"Not any more," gasped excited Billy, still with an arm about Miss Blossom, as if fearful she might escape. "But I can't rememberanything. Tell me, quick—where did I come from?—who am I? I knowyou. I pumped the organ for you—a big church—you played—Oh, tell me,tellme."
"Wait," pleaded Miss Blossom, "until we're on shore—you'll surely tip us over."
"All right," agreed Billy, reluctantly. But so great was his eagerness to get his friend ashore that he got behind the boat and pushed.
"Now," demanded excited Billy, the moment Miss Blossom was out of the boat, "what's the rest of my name? Laddie—Laddiewhat?"
"I don't know," confessed Miss Blossom, coloring with chagrin. "Honestly I don't, Laddie. You see, so many boys have pumped organs for us that I don't always remember even theirfirstnames."
"But," panted Billy, with a catch in his throat, "surely you'll remember the name of the town?"
"No—o," faltered Miss Blossom, "I'm afraid I don't. I remember your face and your very bright hair—I canseethat brighthead bobbing up and down in the light of a stained glass window—but Idon'tknow which town or even which state I saw you in. But don't worry, Laddie-boy. My father has a list of all the organs he has ever mended. Now, it must be some time within the last two years that you pumped for us; and it is probable that we stayed with that particular organ for a number of days, else I wouldn't have had time to learn that you were 'Laddie'—I usually call the organ-pumper 'Boy.' Now, when I've looked at father's list, I'll pick out all thelongjobs, discover what towns they were in, and perhaps Mr. Saunders, here, will write a notice to insert in the papers that are published in those towns. Don't worry. One of them will certainly be your town. And here are all my precious girls patiently waiting to be hugged!"
Miss Blossom proved a most delightful visitor. The girls wanted to keep her, Mrs. Crane urged her to stay; but Miss Blossom declared that she owed it to Laddie-Billy to get back to Lakeville as speedily as possible.Captain Berry, also, would remain for only two hours; but everybody visited fast and furiously for that precious interval of time—it went all too quickly.
"I'm quite sure," declared Miss Blossom, at parting, "that father's list will help."
"Let me know," pleaded Billy, who had donned his becoming new clothes without delay and happily found them sufficiently large, "if you find anything."
"I surely will," promised Miss Blossom.
Three days later, Mr. Saunders, this time on horseback, rode into camp.
"I'm commissioned," he explained, "to say a certain word in Billy's hearing. Where is he?"
"Getting washed for dinner," replied Henrietta, flourishing the bread-knife toward the river.
"Don't mention my errand," said Saunders. "I'll spring it on Billy when we're all at table—I've invited myself to dinner."
"We'll let everybody get seated before we call Billy," agreed Henrietta. "And I'll warnthe girls. You might tie your horse behind those bushes and perhaps he won't know you're here until you speak."
Sure enough, hungry Billy plunged to his place without observing the visitor; but when the plates were filled, Mr. Saunders suddenly leaned forward, looked at Billy, and remarked casually: "The last time I was in Pittsburg——"
"Pittsburg!" gasped Billy, with widening eyes. "Were you ever in Pittsburg?"
"No," admitted Saunders, rather sheepishly. "Were you?"
"Yes!" yelled Billy, joyously waving his slice of bread. "Two-twenty-four Jefferson Street, Pittsburg, Pennsylvania; population three hundred and twenty-one thousand.Sure!I wasbornthere! That's where Ilive."
"But how," queried Henrietta, strong in all matters geographical, "could a person set sail from Pittsburg and be wrecked at Pete's Patch, Upper Michigan?"
"He couldn't," replied Mr. Black.
"Nevertheless," said Saunders, "I've sent notices to all the Pittsburg papers—what's that street number again?"
"I—I don't know," stammered Billy. "It's gone again. I guess it's easier to think when you're not trying to."
"Jefferson Street," supplied Marjory, who had remembered.
Billy nodded. "Yes," said he, "that sounds right. But how did you guess Pittsburg, Mr. Saunders?"
"In Mr. Blossom's note-book there was an item, under the heading 'Pittsburg,' that read: 'Paid Laddie one dollar.'"
"Wonder where it went?" said the boy, turning his empty pockets inside out.
"By this time to-morrow," promised Saunders, "all Pittsburg will know that a Pittsburg boy name Laddie, wrecked on Lake Superior, is alive and well in—or near—Lakeville."
"Lost:" murmured Laddie, "a brindle pup; answers to the name of Billy. Well, I'm awfully obliged, Mr. Saunders; and my folks—Iwonder if my folkswantto find me? Do you s'pose they do?"
"I'm sure of it," declared Mrs. Crane. "But if they don't,I'llkeep you."
"Nobody'd ever think," sniffed Mabel, overcome with emotion, "thatI'dfound that boy—everybody adopting him all the time."
"You found Rosa Marie, too, didn't you?" teased Billy. "Well, I refuse to be a twin sister to Rosa Marie."
"Who," asked Saunders, "is Rosa Marie?"
"She's a relative," remarked Mr. Black, dryly, "that Dave imported for the express purpose of eating our berries. Dave, it seems, not only lives here himself but entertains his relatives at our expense."
"And Peter encourages Dave in all his iniquity," added Mrs. Crane.
"And," laughed Bettie, "Mrs. Crane cooks for Dave and all his visitors."
"Well," admitted Mrs. Crane, "they'd either starve or steal if I didn't."
"Dave," said Marjory, who had learned much of the Gurneau family history from thefriendly Indian, "has nine brothers and seven sisters—his mother had seventeen children."
"Good gracious!" exclaimed Mr. Black, "do theyalllive here at times?"
"No," laughed Marjory. "Most of them are in Canada."
"Dear me," breathed Mrs. Crane, fervently, "I hope they'll stay there."
NOW that there was hope of learning more about Billy Blue-eyes, the young campers found it hard to wait patiently for possible tidings from Pittsburg. They were all restless and excited; Laddie in particular could settle down to nothing.
"We'll all go fishing," declared Mr. Black. "That'll keep Billy's mind off his troubles. Dave says he knows a trail that will lead us to the finest fishing spot in the country; so we'll take a lunch and stay all day."
"Laddie," queried Mrs. Crane, anxiously, "are you strong enough for such a long trip?"
"Sure," asserted her fidgety patient, "I could pull in awhale."
"Then," declared Mrs. Crane, "I'll get Mahjigeezigoqua to wash the dishes and make the beds, and I'll go, too. I don't care if I do get rheumatism—I haven't been fishingforyears. And that young woman loves to do things for us."
"No wonder," said Jean, "after all you did for Rosa Marie last winter."
"Put on your very oldest shoes," ordered Mr. Black. "You're to wade the river—Dave says it's shallow all the way down, except in a few spots where we can follow a trail along the bank. He's cutting poles for everybody."
For perhaps half an hour, sure-footed Dave, carrying the lunch in a bag on his back, led the fishing party through thickets that Mr. Black had supposed impenetrable, to come out at last on the river bank. It was their own many-curved river, but so wildly beautiful at this seldom visited spot that even quiet Mrs. Crane exclaimed loudly. Then, their hooks baited, they waded into the shallow, winding stream, and fished.
"Godowndose stream," commanded Dave. "Bam-bye she's take you back to Pete's Patch."
"Here, Bettie," said Mr. Black, "I'll show you how to cast your hook—Phew! Here's afish for you already—must have been ready for breakfast!"
Sure enough, a wriggling, silvery trout dangled from Mr. Black's pole.
"There's something running away with my line," complained inexperienced Jean, a little frightened by this uncanny sensation. "It feels as big as a rabbit!"
"Pull it in," commanded Mr. Black, "you've got a bite."
So she had, but the fish that had felt "as big as a rabbit" proved so tiny that Mr. Black put him back to grow; and the apparently unconcerned little trout made a dart for Marjory's hook. He seemed so determined to be caught bysomebody—it didn't matter who—that Dave dug a little pool in the sand for him.
"Stay dere," ordered Dave, "till dose beeg brodder of you ees have som' chance for got caught."
"I don't think I want to fish," said tender-hearted Jean. "I'd ratherlook. Every time I take a step I see a new picture—I'd like to keep all my eyes for the scenery."
"So would I," declared Bettie, pulling in her line. "Let's just dawdle along together somewhere out of reach of Mabel's hook—Goodness! Look at Henrietta putting on her own bait!"
"I did it, too," bragged Marjory. "I couldn't wait for Dave—it'ssuchfun to see a trout dart out from under the bank and grab your worm and run away with it."
"You must give a little jerk," instructed Mr. Black. "Just like that."
"Just like this," added Mabel. But Mabel's fish proved to be a log, so amid much laughter, Dave provided her with a fresh hook.
For several wonderful hours, the happy castaways waded and fished. Never in all their wanderings had they encountered anything as beautiful as the overhanging trees, the fern-fringed banks, the softly gurgling water. And never had fish seemed more willing to bite. Even Dave was surprised at their voracity. In spite of Mrs. Crane's heavy floundering, in spite of the number of times that Mabel slipped from slimy stones to land "kersplash"on her sturdy back, in spite of the delighted shrieks that came from Marjory and Henrietta at every bite, the hungry fish flocked to the feast of angleworms.
People talking to fishermanSeated on the dry end was a stout, placid man
Seated on the dry end was a stout, placid man
"Dose worms she's taste lak' pie to dose feesh," explained Dave.
"I'd like it better," grumbled Mabel, whose hook was continually catching in the trees, "if there wasn't so much underbrush overhead."
"That's certainly a queer place," laughed Billy, stringing his eleventh trout on the branch provided by Dave, "forunderbrush. Here, I'll pull it out for you."
The wonderfully happy morning passed all too quickly—there should be some way of prolonging summer mornings in a trout stream. They had eaten their wholesome lunch, and Mr. Black, his fine dark eyes aglow with eagerness, his thick, almost-white hair standing up all over his head, had fished in a dozen perfectly marvelous holes that Dave had pointed out, when the castaways reached in their wanderings a point crossed by a broken-down bridge. One end was still in place; the othersagged until it was partly submerged. Seated on the dry end of this flimsy structure, fish-pole in hand, was a stout, placid man, whose mild, serene blue eyes invited confidence.
Sociable Mr. Black, still aglow with the joy of his unusual luck and glad of a chance to display his splendid catch, proudly disclosed the contents of his basket—also of the basket that Dave carried.
Billy, too, and the girls flocked nearer to displaytheirrespective catches. It was certainly a fine showing. Mr. Black, however, had the lion's share.
"How many did you say?" drawled the comfortable stranger, seemingly only mildly interested in the count. His apparent indifference, indeed, proved quite galling to Mr. Black, who had introduced himself and his party.
"Seventy-two for mine," beamed Mr. Black. "For once we'll have all the trout we can eat."
"Well, Mr. Black," returned the man, in his leisurely, indifferent way, "I'm sorry for you; but I guess you'll have to ride to Lakevillein my buckboard to-night. I'm the game warden; and fifty fish is the limit."
"The game warden!" gasped Mabel.
"The game warden!" gasped Henrietta.
"The game warden!" gasped all the others.
"The penalty," drawled the leisurely officer, "is either imprisonment or a fine—seein' it's you, you'll probably have to pay a fine."
"Iwill!" exclaimed Mr. Black. "What's that about a limit? I didn't know——"
"New law," explained the man, lazily. "And some of these here trout that your kids have caught are undersized; they ain't seven inches—'nother new law; you'll have to pay for those, too."
"Why, the limit issixinches."
"Used to be, ain't any more," returned the placid person, fumbling in his pocket for a battered copy of the game laws. "See, here's what it says."
"I guess you're right," admitted Mr. Black, scanning the pages.
"I'm real sorry," stated the game warden for the second time. "But you see, Mr. Black,I've got to arrestsomebodythis week or they'll think I'm not earning my salary. And I guess you can stand it lots better'n some."
"Well," said Mr. Black, "I certainly supposed I was a law-abiding citizen; but I'm willing to pay the piper—it isn't often that I dance to such a merry tune. Those fish are worth any fine that I shall have to pay. I'll go down with you to-night if you'll tell me where to meet you; but I'm going to eat my share of those fish first—I assure you of that!"
Mabel, who had edged closer to the game warden, now relieved her mind.
"Say," she queried, "you won't put him in jail, will you?"
"Not if he's able to pay his fine," smiled the stout officer.
"Where," she next demanded, severely, "are your leggings?"
"Leggings!" exclaimed the puzzled man. "Why! They don't make any big enough to go round my fatted calves."
"I don't believe youarethe game warden," declared Mabel. "You're just pretending."
The complacent officer, however, proved his right to the title by showing certain documents to Mr. Black. But, as Mabel leaned closer to inspect them, too, her weight upon the rotten log on which the bulky game warden sat proved too much for the time-worn timber. Down it crashed, taking Mabel and the astonished officer with it.
Fortunately, the water at this point was sufficiently deep to break their fall, for the river bottom near the bridge was of solid sandstone, and therefore pretty hard. Dave plunged in after Mabel, but permitted the gasping game warden to flounder out by himself. By way of atonement, Mr. Black invited the victim to supper and later loaned him some dry clothing. After this accident, the campers, somewhat subdued but fully alive to the wonderful charm of the day, proceeded toward home. It was five o'clock when the castaways, hungry but otherwise none the worse for their long day in the river, finally reached Pete's Patch; for the point in the pretty stream that was only three-quarters of a mile away by landwas almost a day's journey by water, owing to the numerous twists and turns of the winding river that was so like Dave's queer conscience.
"Say, M'sieu Black," said Dave, lingering after the others had turned toward camp, and speaking in a dreadful whisper very close to Mr. Black's ear. "Ah'm good frien' to you. Eet ees ver' bad, Ah'm tole (here Dave's black eye glittered humorously), to broke dose game law; but eef you ees weesh for hide you'self, me, Ah'm show you som' pooty good plass. Dose game ward' hunt for feefty year biffore she ees fin' dose ol' Pete Black. Hey, Pete? You lak for hide on yourself?"
"Thank you, Dave," returned Mr. Black, "but I guess I'd better take my medicine like a man—a man doesn't hide."
His first plan failing, Dave kindly offered to set the game warden hopelessly astray, to steal his horse, and finally, as a last resort, to murder the unsuspecting officer in a variety of ingenious ways. But Mr. Black declined all these kindly offers and finally convincedDave that he didn't mind going to Lakeville, with a good fish supper inside of him.
The castaways found Mr. Saunders in possession of the camp at Pete's Patch. He had whittled a shingle doll for Rosa Marie, who sat in rapt devotion at his feet.
"She hasn't taken her eyes off me since I arrived, three hours ago," declared Saunders, rising to hand some papers to Mr. Black. "She's immensely taken with either my auburn hair or my new tan shoes—I don't know which. I didn't know, Mr. Black, what you wanted done about this insurance matter, so I brought the letters to you."
"Mighty glad to see you," returned Mr. Black, "for I'm going to town to-night. You'll have to stay here till I get back and be a father to my family. I'm under arrest for breaking the game laws—but wait till you see what I broke 'em with. Those fish——"
"Any news from Pittsburg?" interrupted Mrs. Crane.
"Not a word. But I've brought letters for all those girls. Their mothers, aunts, and soforth want to know how they're going to get them ready to go away to school next fall if you keep them in the woods all summer. They want to make clothes for them."
"It isn't polite," giggled lively Henrietta, "to answer letters the moment you get them. And anyhow, who wants clothes?"
"There's just one thing that we do want," said Mrs. Crane, "and that's news for our Billy-boy. He's so uneasy that he can't rest. In fact, we'realluneasy—in a state of suspense——"
"Well," returned Mr. Black, "worrying won't hurry matters, so you'd better amuse yourselves with other things—perhaps Saunders will help."
Saundersdidhelp; nevertheless, it was hard to wait; for by this time Laddie-Billy was quite certain that he was a friendless waif, a homeless orphan, or, at best, a hopelessly lost youngster with only half a mind.
"I'd rather be dead," mourned Billy, bitterly, "than a blithering idiot."
MR. BLACK, hearing nothing from Billy's people and knowing that Saunders was an able guard for his precious family, remained away for three days; for he found a number of matters in Lakeville that claimed his attention. He paid his fine cheerfully, and declared ever afterwards that the day's sport was worth all that it had cost him.
Mr. Saunders proved a most delightful companion, in spite of his misfit clothing; for the tall, slender young man had borrowed stout Mr. Black's camping costume. Wherever he went he was followed by devoted Billy and the no less devoted girls. Dave liked him, too. Even Rosa Marie waddled at his heels and grunted happily when he condescended to pat her black head or her fat brown hands. It may have been his undeniably red hair that charmed Rosa Marie, but it was his voice that pleased the girls; for he proved a decidedlyeloquent person. He told them the most wonderful of fairy tales, recited miles and miles of nonsense rhymes and several yards, as Bettie said, of real poetry.
But the fairy tales pleased them most because there were so many spots near Pete's Patch that seemed just like little bits of Fairyland; and sometimes Saunders' tales were cleverly fitted to these suitable surroundings. Before the three days were over, the girls were living in a veritable land of enchantment and went about with such dreamy eyes that Mrs. Crane was certain that they were all bewitched.
On the last forenoon of the useful young man's visit, Mabel, pursuing a startled brown rabbit, happened to stumble into the very heart of Fairyland. The rabbit led her out of Pete's Patch, through thicket and marsh, to an unsuspected bayou—a little bay that had once been part of the lively river but was now merely a quiet pond. Mabel found herself on the very muddy edge of a wide circular basin that was bigger than it looked. The banks were a tangled, seemingly impenetrable mass ofgreen foliage, showing occasionally the vivid pink of a late wild rose or the dazzling white of Queen Anne's lace and meadow-sweet. More inviting than all were quantities of strange water flowers of shining white that spangled the glinting surface of the pond. These were new to Mabel and all hers for the gathering.
"Oh!" gasped the little girl, quite overcome with the surprising beauty of this hitherto undiscovered treasure, "I guess I've found the Witch's Pool where the pale Princess was turned into a—Oh! Imustget those flowers for Mrs. Crane; she'dlove'em."
A long, partly submerged log extended toward the center of the pond. Mabel very cautiously at first, then with more confidence, trusted her weight to this. If she could reach just one of those elusive flowers——
Suddenly there was a horrible "giving way" under her feet. She clutched wildly at unsubstantial air; there was a wild shriek followed by a violent splash. Millions of golden bubbles floated to the surface.
For a long moment that was all that the brown rabbit, safe among the ferns, could see. Then, a dozen feet away from the broken log, a queer green object, a most unpleasant-looking object, caught at the slimy branches of a water-logged, barkless tree that had stood in the pool for goodness only knows how many years; and, freeing one wet hand, wiped a veil of emerald slime from its mouth and eyes. The green object was Mabel; and tumbling right into Fairyland was not an entirely pleasant process.
Fortunately, a few short stumps of branches still remained firmly attached to the upright trunk. The plump "Princess" was able, happily, to find a firm foothold on one of these. Then, with her knees under water, her arms clasped about the slippery tree trunk, she stood more or less securely anchored in the treacherous pool, looking not unlike a green marble statue in the center of a fountain. Fortunately the water was not at all cold. Fortunately, too, it harbored none of the horrible things that Mabel imagined might be lurking beneath itsverdant surface. It was because of her fear of possible—or rather impossible—alligators, snakes, and hippopotami that the little girl's voice proved unusually feeble when she attempted to shout for the help that she so sorely needed. At any rate, no one responded.
Although the wonderfully tinted bayou was a lovely spot to look at, with its green and golden browns in the sunlight, its deep sepia tones in the shadows, and its marvelous reflections of objects along the edge, poor Mabel found it hard to be compelled to gaze at it for so long a time. After the first half-hour, even with blue king-fishers and many-hued dragon-flies darting down after water bugs, or lightly skimming the jeweled surface, it seemed a lonely place. As for the frostlike blossoms that had lured her into the pool Mabel no longer admired them; and she hated the brown rabbit.
When noon arrived without bringing always hungry Mabel back to Pete's Patch—never before had she missed a meal—the other campers began to grow alarmed. By two o'clockthe entire camp was scouring forest, lakeshore, and river banks for Mabel or traces of Mabel. Mr. Saunders had even loaded Mr. Black's gun and was firing it, at intervals, thus providing Mabel with a new cause for alarm, since she didn't know that the gun was pointed toward the open lake. Laddie was searching the rocks at Barclay's Point, Jean and Henrietta were examining the roads that Mabel sometimes explored for mushrooms, Dave and Marjory were following all the more or less familiar trails.
"She's fallen in, somewhere," declared Mrs. Crane, pale with anxiety, "and is drowned. Nothing else would have kept her away from lunch."
"And she can't get near waterwithoutfalling in," agreed Bettie. "But, so far, she's always gotten out again."
Sometimes the hateful brown rabbit, safe on dry land, bobbed up to look at Mabel. Sometimes a saucy squirrel ran along an overhanging branch to scold loudly at the little girl. Once a big mud-hen waded into sight, then, suddenly discovering the discouraged "Princess,"fled with an alarmed—and alarming squawk.
"I suppose," groaned Mabel, "I'm missing a million things. Most likely Mr. Black is back with splendid news for Billy—I'm sure he'll turn out to be somebody perfectly grand, like a young duke or the only son of a mayor. Or Mr. Saunders is telling that loveliest-of-all fairy tale that he promised to save for the very last. And Iknowthey'll eat every crumb of those splendid huckleberry pies that Mrs. Crane was making when I left camp. And, oh! What'll I do when it gets dark?"
But Mabel, happily, was spared this last horror. At three o'clock Mahjigeezigoqua, Rosa Marie's really beautiful mother, parted the branches that fringed the pool and peered at the strange object upright in the water.
"Oh!" cried weary Mabel, in sudden excitement, "do come and get me—a rope, a boat, anything——"
"Can you hol' on som' more?" demanded the young woman, testing the ground with a cautious foot.
"Yes, yes," cried Mabel, almost letting go in her joy. "Only please save me soon—I'm awfully tired of this place—I've been here foryears."
"Ah'll breeng ma brodder," promised the dusky beauty, slipping noiselessly away.
It seemed another year before Dave finally came, bounding like a deer through the thicket, with his sister at his heels. Dave plunged in—he had learned by this time exactly how to rescue Mabel from all sorts of watery graves—and soon that relieved young person was safe on some very black, oozy mud that, ordinarily, wouldn't have seemed so pleasant underfoot.
There was great rejoicing when this frequently cast away castaway, still well besmeared with green slime, was escorted by Dave and his pretty sister to Pete's Patch.
"Geeve her som' bat' hon de lake," advised Dave, before disappearing in search of certain herbs for which he had found a use.
Mrs. Crane, feeling that Mabel had been sufficiently punished for her thoughtlessness without being scolded, hastily prepared a hot meal—afterall, shehadsaved Mabel's share of the pie. Then, while Mrs. Crane was setting a place for her, the culprit, escorted to the lake by Jean and Henrietta, was thoroughly scrubbed, rubbed dry, and hustled into clean clothing.
"Hurry!" cried Mrs. Crane, "or the stew will get cold again."
Just as Mabel was opening her mouth for the first delicious bite, a brown, sinewy hand deftly placed a dingy tin cup at her lips, her head was unexpectedly twitched backward, and before Mabel could realize what was happening, Dave had poured a generous dose of his evil-smelling herb tea down her unresisting throat.
"Ah'm learn dose good trick off ma gran'modder," explained Dave, evidently much elated at his success. "Ma gran'modder ver' smart ol' squaw."
"I wish," choked Mabel, crimson with indignation, "your horrid old grandmother 'd never beenborn."
"Som' tam'," smiled Dave, sympathetically,"Ah'm used for weesh dat, too. But dose medicine ees ver' good—mak' you feel all bully hon top your inside, bam-bye. Maybe you lak' som' more, hey?"
"You go home!" snapped Mabel. "I'll taste that stuff for ayear."
Dave chuckled as he slipped away. And, however dreadful it looked and smelled and tasted, the medicine at any rate did no harm; for Mabel awoke next morning none the worse for either the prolonged soaking, Dave's unpalatable remedy, or even an unusually large portion of Mrs. Crane's famous pie.
THE campers had barely finished breakfast when Captain Berry's launch chug-chugged into the little harbor; and the girls, still at the table, were laughing so heartily over one of Mr. Saunders' amusing tales that they had no suspicion of the launch's presence, at that unusual hour, until Mr. Black's hearty "Hi there, folks! Isn't anybody up?" made them all jump.
"Oh," breathed Mabel, evidently much relieved. "They didn't put him in prison, after all."
"I guess I'd better be getting into my own clothes," said Saunders. "I'll be going back with Captain Berry, I suppose. I'dmuchrather stay."
"There's no need for you to hurry," returned Mrs. Crane. "Captain Berry always stops for quite awhile; so finish your breakfast in peace."
Mr. Black, now plainly visible from the open door of the dining tent, was coming up the path from the beach. Behind him walked another person—a small woman in widow's garb. Her thin, white face wore an anxious, strained expression; her blue eyes beamed with eager expectancy, her hands twitched.
As the pair approached all the campers regarded them wonderingly. Suddenly Billy's cup dropped with a crash. In another moment he had leaped over the bench and was racing down the pathway.
"Mother!" he cried. "Mother! It's my mother!"
The little woman, laughing and crying together, was seized by this big whirlwind of a boy and hugged until she gasped for mercy.
"Oh, Laddie Lombard!" she cried. "I—I'm so glad—Oh, do let me cry just a minute! I thought—oh,Laddie!"
Saunders, with a delicacy that still further endeared him to the adoring girls, silently reached forth a long arm and dropped the tent flap. Mr. Black, his kindly face beaming withsympathy, pushed his way in; Laddie, rather close to tears himself, led his weeping mother to a bench under the trees.
"Her name," explained Mr. Black, seating himself at the breakfast table between Bettie and Jean, "is Mrs. Tracy Lombard. She wasn't in Pittsburg; but a friend of hers saw the notice in the paper and telegraphed her, and she came as fast as she could."