Boy hugging his mother"Mother!" he cried. "Mother! It's my mother!"
"Mother!" he cried. "Mother! It's my mother!"
"Ofcourseshe did," breathed Mrs. Crane. "But how did the boy——"
"Billy—Laddie, I mean—wasn't well this spring. It happened that he was coming down with typhoid; but his mother didn't know that—thought it was overwork in school. Hoping to benefit him by a change of climate, Mrs. Lombard, always rather fussy, I imagine, over this one precious infant, started West with him, over the Canadian Pacific route. She had relatives in Seattle or Portland—I've forgotten which. But that part of it doesn't matter.
"The second day after leaving Pittsburg, Laddie became so alarmingly ill that Mrs. Lombard was glad to accept the invitation ofa fellow-traveler, a motherly, middle-aged woman, who lived in a small village on the north shore of Lake Superior."
"In Canada?" queried Marjory.
"Yes," returned Mr. Black. "In, as nearly as I could make out from Mrs. Lombard's description, a very quiet little place across the lake from Pete's Patch, if not exactly opposite. But so far away that one wouldn't expect small boats to make the journey. In that village, however, Laddie was seriously ill; because, by this time, he had pneumonia in addition to typhoid. For weeks he was a very sick boy. Then, when he began to mend, his mother found it difficult to hold him down, headstrong little rascal that he was, with no father to control him—his father died when Laddie was two years old, and I guess the boy has had his own way most of the time."
"He isn't a bit spoiled," defended Mrs. Crane. "But go on with your story."
"Long before he was well enough to walk he was begging to be taken on the water—he was always crazy about the water, his mothersays; perhaps because most of his ancestors were sailors. On pleasant days—our spring was unusually mild, you remember—they allowed him to sit on the sunny veranda of Mrs. Brown's cottage, from which the lake, only two hundred feet distant, was plainly visible. At first they merely rolled him up in a blanket; but for the last three days of his sojourn in that place he had worn his clothes, shoes and all, since it galled his proud young spirit to be considered an invalid in the sight of the villagers.
"One day, during the half-hour or so that Mrs. Lombard was busy changing her dress, straightening her son's room, and so forth, Laddie disappeared."
"Before he could walk?" demanded Mrs. Crane.
"No, he was able to go from room to room by that time. You've noticed, haven't you, how quickly he recovers, once he is started? Well, as soon as he was better he disappeared."
"Where did he go?" asked Bettie. Thegirls, of course, were all nearly breathless with interest—no tale told by Saunders had held them so closely.
"Nobody knows," returned Mr. Black. "Probably nobody everwillknow precisely what happened. However, there was a sociable half-breed fisherman, sort of a half-witted chap, who had leaned over the fence almost daily to talk to the boy. The theory is that he asked Laddie to go out in his boat. The landing was only a short distance away and almost directly in front of Mrs. Brown's house; but, owing to jutting rocks at the east side of the little bay, one could easily embark and very speedily get entirely out of sight of any of the houses. Now, the chances are that Laddie, or any other boy, invited by Indian Charlie to go out for a brief sail, would have considered it rather smart to accept the invitation. Would have thought it a good joke on his mother, perhaps—the best of boys make such mistakes, sometimes.
"Anyway, Laddie disappeared, and several days later Indian Charlie was found drownednear a rocky point several miles from the village; pieces of timber thatmighthave been part of his boat were picked up after the storm—that same storm that brought Laddie to us. Moreover, another fisherman remembered noticing a boy with very bright hair in Charlie's boat, which he happened to pass that afternoon a mile or two down the shore. The wind was pretty fresh that day, and by night it was blowing a gale.
"Mrs. Lombard was forced to conclude, when no further word was heard of Laddie, that her boy had shared poor Charlie's fate—several far more seaworthy boats were wrecked that night and more than one unfortunate sailor lost his life. But Mrs. Lombard is now blaming herself for giving up hope so easily, though she did offer a reward, through the Canadian papers, for the finding of Laddie's body; and afterwards the Canadian shore was searched quite thoroughly. It didn't occur to anybody that Laddie, probably lashed to the mast by Indian Charlie, probably ill again and possibly delirious, as a result of exposure towind and waves, could have been carried across Lake Superior in so frail a craft as that poor half-breed's boat. But the wind was in the right direction. How long the boat held together we shall never know.
"Mrs. Lombard learned afterwards that Indian Charlie was considered far too reckless in his handling of sailboats, and that he hadn't any better judgment than to take a sick boy out to sea if the boy showed the faintest inclination to go—and you know how wild that Billy-boy is about the water. Bless me, Sarah! That poor woman wouldn't wait for any breakfast——"
"I'll make some fresh coffee this minute," said Mrs. Crane, "but do save the rest of the story until I get back."
"There isn't any more," returned Mr. Black, taking a drink of water, "except that Mrs. Lombard reached town at four o'clock this morning, routed me out at half-past—the advertisement read 'apply to Peter Black'—and we came here as fast as gasoline could bring us."
"Thenyoudidn't have any breakfast, either," guessed Mrs. Crane, shrewdly.
"I suspect I didn't," admitted Mr. Black.
And then Laddie Billy Blue-eyes, otherwise William Tracy Lombard, introduced his pretty little blond mother to all the campers.
"I'm remembering things so fast," said he, "that it makes me dizzy. Mother seems to be the missing link that connects me with Pittsburg and everything else. You know I always said that Dave reminded me of somebody? Well, when mother spoke of Indian Charlie, Iknew. For a moment I could feel a boat heave up and down; and in a flash I saw a dark face something like Dave's, and some rather long, very black hair, also like Dave's. I could see the facetwoways. Once it was laughing, over a fence top. Then it was all twisted up with fright—bending over me and scared blue. And while the face looked like that, there were hands fumbling about my waist——"
"As if," queried Bettie, "somebody were tying a life-preserver——"
"Yes, yes," declared Laddie. "And thatdreadful face said things in a dreadful voice; but I couldn't hear—everything whirled and roared. Sometimes there was a horrible going-down feeling. Perhaps, after all, I just dreamed all that, but—but Ithinkit happened."
"And you don't remember getting into any boat?" asked Mrs. Lombard.
"No, I don't," replied Laddie, whose always responsive eyes twinkled suddenly. "But if it were poor Charlie's fault, it wouldn't be polite to remember; if it were mine, I'd rather forget it; but I really don't remember one thing about those days in Canada, except that face like Dave's."
"No wonder," said Mrs. Lombard. "You were delirious when we took you off the train and so hazy when you were sitting up that you didn't know whether you were in Oregon or Pittsburg. You'd beenterriblysick. The doctor said that your splendid constitution was all that saved you. And to think that you survived that storm——"
"Pooh!" scoffed Billy, "that boat probablylasted till I was tossed up on this shore. And anyhow, a bath does a fellow good. See how husky Mabel is—she's forever taking 'em. Say! That girl would fall into an ink bottle, if you left it uncorked—she just naturally tumbles into things."
"GIRLS," said Mr. Black, when he had finished his delayed breakfast, "I have a very sorrowful confession to make. I've got to lose you."
"Oh,no," protested Mrs. Crane, "not so soon."
"I don't like it myself, Sarah, but all those mothers, grandmothers, and Aunty Janes came and sat around my office and reminded me that their precious girls were all going away to school, told me that the school wasalmostpicked out—they've narrowed down to four—and dragged from me a promise that I just hated to make. As far as I can discover, they've bought all the cloth in Lakeville, engaged all the dressmakers, and are in a fever to try things on. And I promised——"
"To send us all home?" guessed Bettie.
"Yes. A lot of men are coming this afternoon with a tug and a big flat scow to takethe Whale home—I suspect she'll have to go to the factory for repairs. There'll be room on the scow for us and all our belongings besides. But cheer up. We won't need to start until along toward night."
"So this is our last day," mourned Jean.
"Dear me," sighed Bettie, "we'llneverhave so splendid a time again."
"We'll come again next summer," promised Mr. Black, "unless you get so young-ladyfied at your boarding school that you won'twantto camp."
"You just wait and see," said Marjory.
"No danger," declared Henrietta.
"But," mourned Mabel, "we won't have any Billy Blue-eyes."
"Perhaps I'll get wrecked again," consoled Laddie, "and you can pick me up some more. But you'll forget all about me before next summer."
"I will not," contradicted Mabel. "I'm going to write to you."
"That's good," declared Laddie; "let'sallwrite to each other."
"Mrs. Lombard," offered Bettie, rather shyly, "we've always wondered who Laddie would turn out to be. When he asked for a toothbrush we were quite sure that he was a young duke, or a prince, or—or——"
"No," laughed Mrs. Lombard, "he isn't even a youthful millionaire. He's just a plain boy. We have enough to live on, to be sure; but after awhile Billy will have to work like any other man for his living. I hope you're not disappointed."
"No," said Mabel, magnanimously, "we'd like him, just the same, even if he were just a coal-heaver."
That last day was spent in visiting all the spots that were dear to the young campers and in showing many of them to Mrs. Lombard, who proved a very pleasant little woman, even if she did cling rather tightly to Laddie when he suggested going out in the boat for a pail of water.
"Well," laughed Billy, "I can just as easilywalkout, if you consider that safer; but it's rather drier to go by boat."
Dave, of course, had to hear all about Billy Blue-eyes' experience.
"Ah'm have som' brudder Charlie wan tam'," remarked Dave, thoughtfully. "Ah'm scare for go out on som' boat wit' dose fellow maself, w'en Ah'm leeve hon Canadaw."
"Do you think hewasyour brother?" pursued Laddie.
"Ah don't know," returned Dave, who evidently was not greatly concerned by the news of a possible relative's death. "Me, Ah'm got eight-nine brodder som' plass. Not moch good hon herself, dose brodder, hey?"
But when Dave learned that the campers were about to depart for Lakeville he was far more distressed.
"Me, Ah'm find eet lonesom' widout dose Jean, dose Margy, dose Mabelle, dose petite Bettee, dose good Mees Crane, dose good Pete Black, dose fine Billee—maybe dose good dinnaire, too."
Even numerous gifts of food, clothing, and cooking utensils; even the bestowal of Terrible Tim and Anthony Fitz-Hubert (the kitten wasnow so wild that only the half-breed could catch him) did not serve to raise Dave's drooping spirits. Although he assisted in breaking camp, it was easy to see that he hated the task. He sighed heavily as each tent fell.
The campers, already looking far ahead, as happy children always do, toward new scenes and new experiences, trooped merrily aboard the big scow just at sunset that evening, eager for the picnic supper that was to be eaten on the deck of the safe, clumsy craft; eager, too, though they did not realize it, for a sight of home.
The evening was peaceful, the pale lake calm and softly tinted like a big shining opal. The homeward trip, with so much to relate at the end of it to the dear home people, promised so much enjoyment that no actual tears were shed as the tug began slowly to move her heavy burden seaward. Still, the backward glances were sufficiently regretful; for Pete's Patch was not a spot to be lightly deserted, and never had the place seemed more beautiful than it appeared now from the slowly departing boat.
Dave stood alone on the bank, for his sister was already eagerly examining the ample store of provisions left for their use. For as long as they could see him, the girls waved to the solitary watcher. But long after that Dave strained his eyes after the boat that was carrying away the dearest friends that he had ever known.
"Ah'm lak' dose peop'," said Dave, with a catch in his throat, as he turned away at last. "Ver' moch, Ah'm lak' dose good peop'. Me, Ah'm good frien' to hall dose; until Ah'm go for die hon maself."
At nine o'clock that night the castaways landed safely in Lakeville, and the picnic that had lasted for weeks instead of hours and proved so much more than a mere picnic was at an end.
THE END
Transcriber's Notes:Page 140, "sprinling" changed to "sprinkling" (a generous sprinkling)Page 141, "beween" changed "between" (stuck out between the loops)Page 171, "half-breeed" changed to "half-breed" (The half-breed had)Page 199, "is" changed to "it" (But itis)Page 238, "Ofter" changed "Often" (Often, when glancing)Page 241, "namd" changed to "named" (young woman named Miss)
Transcriber's Notes:
Page 140, "sprinling" changed to "sprinkling" (a generous sprinkling)
Page 141, "beween" changed "between" (stuck out between the loops)
Page 171, "half-breeed" changed to "half-breed" (The half-breed had)
Page 199, "is" changed to "it" (But itis)
Page 238, "Ofter" changed "Often" (Often, when glancing)
Page 241, "namd" changed to "named" (young woman named Miss)