Kitabı oku: «Meg of Mystery Mountain», sayfa 15
CHAPTER XXXIV
SECRETS
Merry glanced anxiously at Jane when they were alone, Bob having gone with the children for a hike along the brook.
“Dear,” she said, slipping an arm about her friend, “you are regretting having taken my advice, aren’t you?”
They were in the bedroom which they shared, removing their tams and sweaters when, to Merry’s surprise and grief, Jane threw herself down on the bed and sobbed as though her heart would break. “Oh, I can’t bear the humiliation of it all! How I wish we could leave for the East today, this very minute. While I am here, I may meet Jean Sawyer, and if he looks at me scornfully, as of course he will, I would rather be dead, honestly I would!”
Merry indeed regretted that she had asked Jane to send the letter which was causing her so much unhappiness. “Try to forget about it, Janey, just for today,” she implored, “while we are celebrating your eighteenth birthday.” Then an inspiration came to her and she asked: “What would your mother have done if she had had a sorrow that would sadden others if they knew about it?”
Jane sat up on the side of the bed, and, after glancing at the miniature on the table near, she turned and looked thoughtfully out of the wide window and into the sun-shimmering valley. Merry wondered what her reply would be. A moment later she knew, for Jane sprang up and after kissing the golden-haired girl impulsively, she caught her by the hand, saying: “I’m going out to the brook to wash my face in that clear, cold water, just as Dan and I did the first day that we came. And I’ll try to wash away all selfish grievings and to think, if I can, only of the happiness of the guests at my birthday party. That’s what my mother would have done. I am so glad that Dan told me that we can choose a model or an ideal and carve our own characters like it and I’m grateful to you for having recalled it to me, because, for the moment, I had forgotten.” The girls took their towels and hand in hand they skipped around to the brook. Jane knelt by the big boulder and splashed the cold spring water over her tear-stained eyes. When she looked up her wet cheeks were rosy. And later, when they had gone back to the bedroom to complete their preparations for the party, Merry begged Jane to wear a wine-colored dress which was especially becoming to her. It was of soft, clinging crepe de chine and had a deep collar of Irish crochet. Then they went into the living-room to await the coming of their guest. Merry, whose dainty blue summer dress made her lovely eyes the color of a June sky, sat smiling admiringly at her friend. “Jane,” she said, “you are wonderful. But there is just one more touch needed to make you look a bit more partified. I will get it.”
Springing up, Merry went into their bedroom, took from her suitcase a box which contained a beautiful scarlet rose with satin and velvet petals. This she pinned into Jane’s soft, dark hair just above her left ear. Standing off to note the effect, Merry declared that her friend was certainly the most beautiful girl she had ever seen. A short month before Jane would have considered this praise her just due, but, so greatly had she changed, her reply was given in entire sincerity: “I may be the most beautiful to you, because you love me, but Meg Heger is really the more beautiful.” Before Merry could reply, there was an excited shouting without. Both girls leaped to the open door. They saw Meg Heger riding on her spotted pony, while Dan on the big brown mare was at her side, but they were conversing quietly. The halloos came from the brook. Turning to look in that direction, the girls saw Julie, Bob and Gerald racing toward them as fast as they could over the rocky way, and it was quite evident that they were all very much excited. “I wonder what they have seen?” Jane said.
Before the children and Bob could reach the cabin, Meg and Dan had climbed the stairway and had been greeted by the two girls.
The trapper’s daughter wore a simply fashioned Scotch plaid gingham dress in which many colors were mingled.
They all turned toward the brook when the three, who were racing toward them, neared.
“What, ho!” Dan called gayly, and Jane noted that never before had she seen in her brother’s face an expression of such radiant happiness. “Did you three see a bear? It never will do for us to go back East without having at least sighted a grizzly.”
To the surprise of the four who awaited them, the newcomers became suddenly embarrassed, and even Bob acted as though he hardly knew what to say, which was quite unusual in so straightforward and impulsive a lad.
“Dan,” he said, “may I speak with you a moment?”
The older boy walked away from the curious group of girls.
“We did not know that Meg Heger had come,” Bob began, “and we were just going to call out that we had found another place where we would like to look for the lost box. It’s such a queer place, Dan, but it is one that as yet we have not investigated. Can’t we get away from the girls somehow? Gerald and Julie and I want to show the spot to you at least.”
“Why, I presume so,” Dan agreed, and after explaining to the three older girls that Bob and the youngsters wished to show him something, he followed them back along the brook. It was the way that he had gone on that day when he had first visited the Heger cabin. When they reached the waterfall which Dan had thought so pretty, they climbed down to the red rock basin into which it fell. Excitedly, Gerald pointed back of the tumbling water.
“Look-it, Dan!” he fairly shouted. “See that little cave opening in there! Doesn’t it look to you as if it had been made with a pickaxe? Bob thinks it does.”
Dan looked through the transparent sheet of hurrying water and smilingly shook his head as he replied:
“I don’t suppose that a human being has ever been through that crevice, and, moreover, I don’t quite see how we can investigate, do you, Bob?”
Dan, noting the disappointed expression on his small brother’s face, turned toward the older boy.
“We sort of had it figured out that Gerald could stand back of the waterfall and then he could see better whether that is just a crevice in the rocks or the mouth of a cave.”
The youngest boy looked up eagerly. “You know, Dan, I fetched along my bathing suit. Mayn’t I go back to the cabin and put it on? Mayn’t I, Dan?”
“Why, of course, if you wish, but perhaps you had better say nothing to the girls about it. I do not like to have Meg know that we are searching for that box, since there is no real likelihood of our finding it.”
Luckily the girls were not in sight, and so no questions were asked of the small boy, who dived into his own room, donned his bathing suit and raced away, without having been seen. Dan held the younger boy’s hand in a tight clasp as Gerald went down into the clear, cold pool.
“Now, hold your breath and step up on that ledge back of the waterfall,” the older brother advised.
Julie watched wide-eyed, almost frightened.
“Oh, Danny,” she suddenly exclaimed, “couldn’t there be something terrible hiding in that crack?”
But before Dan could assure her that it was not likely, Gerald had leaped back into the rock basin, crying: “It’s a cave in there! Oh, boy! Shall I go in it, Dan; shall I?”
“Not alone!” The older boy was almost sorry that the crevice had been found. “Bob,” he said, turning to the lad who stood meditatively looking at the waterfall, “I don’t believe that it would be wise to permit Gerald to go into that cave. He might suddenly drop into a pit filled with water. Let’s give it up, shall we, and go back to the girls?”
It was plain to see that Bob was disappointed, but his reply was: “Of course, Gerald ought not to go into that cave, if it is one. I had no intention of permitting him to do more than see if it really is an opening. I also have a bathing suit and a flashlight. I never will be satisfied unless I investigate, but of course I will not take a step inside unless it is solid rock.”
Against his better judgment, Dan said, “Well, go ahead, Bob, if you want to.”
The girls had evidently sauntered away from the cabin, for Bob did not see them when he went there to don his bathing suit. He rejoined the others in a very short time. Having been an athlete in college, he swung himself down and back of the waterfall without aid. Then flashing the light into the crevice, he sang out: “There’s a solid floor, all right, Dan, but I think Gerald had better not come.”
For a long five minutes the group on the outside waited, listening with ever-increasing anxiety. Dan thought that he would be sincerely glad when this foolhardy adventure was over. At last he called:
“Bob, haven’t you investigated enough? Come on out!”
But there was no reply. Another five minutes elapsed and Dan was just about to have Gerald again climb back of the waterfall to look through the crevice, when Bob appeared, carrying a pickaxe and a shovel, rusted and dirt encrusted.
“What do you say to that?” he exulted, as he plunged through the fall and waded out of the red rock pool.
Dan was amazed. “Bob,” he exclaimed, “you were right about one thing at least. The cave was made with a pick. Was it large?”
“No; that is, not wide. It is a narrow tunnel which stops abruptly. I found these tools at the very end.”
Dan lifted his shovel and looked at the handle. Then he examined it more closely. Picking up a stone, he knocked away the dirt with which it was crusted. A name was carved in the handle. Letter by letter was deciphered and Dan wrote each in his small notebook. When they had reached the last, Bob asked: “Is it a message telling where the box is?”
“No,” Dan replied, “merely the name and address of the owner of the shovel and pick, I judge. A French name, Giguette. Yes, that is it, Franc Giguette.”
“But there is more to it, Danny.” Gerald was trying to see the pad. “What’s the rest?”
“Where the miner lived, I suppose,” Dan told him. “Cabin 10, I think it is.”
Bob leaped around wild with joy. “Talk about a clue! Why, that’s the number of the cabin at Crazy Creek where this miner lived. Can’t we go right over and hunt for it, Dan? Do you suppose that the girls would care if Gerald and I go? We aren’t at all necessary to the birthday party. You and Julie are.”
“Of course, you may do as you wish,” Dan acquiesced. “It’s a long way to the camp, though.”
“Not if we can ride,” Gerry put in. “You and Meg came down on the horses. Where are they?”
“Back at the Heger cabin by this time,” the older brother replied. “Meg turned her pony’s head up the mountain road and said, ‘Go home, Pal,’ and the brown mare seemed to be quite content to follow. Perhaps you will overtake them.”
Bob caught hold of Gerald’s hand as he said: “We’ll have to hustle, old man, if we get back before dark.”
Gerry glanced at Julie to see if she were terribly disappointed, but the small girl smiled, though a bit waveringly. Dan, noting this, spoke for her: “Julie and I will stay at the cabin. It would hardly do for us all to leave Jane on her birthday.”
These two sauntered slowly along the brook, and before they reached the cabin they saw Bob and Gerald, fully clothed, starting to run up the mountain road.
Dan had little expectation that they would find the box of which the old Indian had told Meg, but he knew that Bob would not be able to enjoy the quiet party when be might be out following a clue.
The girls were seated on the rustic front porch when Dan and Julie appeared. Jane smiled a greeting to them, then asked: “Do tell us what has happened to Bob and Gerry. They dashed in and out again, nor would they stop when we called to ask where they were going?”
“Boys will be boys,” was Dan’s evasive answer as he sank down on the porch step and smiled up at Meg. Then he heard his questioning thought asking: “Is it possible that Meg’s real name is Giguette?”
The five who remained at the cabin that afternoon found it difficult to converse idly, for the thoughts of each kept returning to a subject of great interest to that individual. Meg’s good friend Teacher Bellows had told her that as soon as her examinations were completed he would accompany her and Pa Heger to a distant valley in the mountains where he had heard that the Ute tribe was then dwelling. They believed the finding of the box to be impossible since all through the years the old Indian had searched for it.
Merry, who had slipped her ring back into its case before any of her friends, except Jane, had seen it, was wondering when would be the best time to put it on her finger and announce to them all that she was to become the wife of Jean’s brother. She had wanted to wait until Jean Willoughby should be with them, but when that would be, she could not conjecture.
Dan and Julie were very much excited over the discovery of the pick and shovel, and the lad could see by the small girl’s manner that she was finding the secret almost more than she could keep. Every now and then, in childish fashion, Julie would look over at her brother, hump her shoulders and put a finger on her lips. Jane noted this, but was too miserably unhappy to wonder about little girl secrets. But she was being true to her resolve. She was ever keeping the memory of her mother in thought, and trying to be interested in what her companions were saying.
It was indeed a long afternoon, tense with suppressed excitement. At five-thirty, when the boys had not returned, Dan began to regret that he had granted the permission, for, of course, Gerry would not have gone to Crazy Creek Camp if his older brother had thought it unwise, and Bob, in all probability, would not have gone alone.
Jane, after glancing at her wrist watch, sprang up, announcing with evident gaiety: “Merry and I have a supper planned.”
Then, turning to the younger girl, she invited: “Julie, dear, wouldn’t you like to set the table and make it look real partified?”
“Oh, goodie!” The small girl was glad to be asked to accompany the older two and away she skipped. Meg and Dan were left alone, for their offers of assistance had been refused.
“Suppose we climb to Bald Rock and watch the sunset,” Dan suggested. The girl, smiling up at him, arose at once. As soon as they had started to climb along the singing brook, Meg looked at her companion inquiringly. “Dan,” she said, “won’t you share your secret with me?”
“Perhaps,” the lad countered, “if you will share yours with me.” A merry, rippling laugh, as silvery as the song of the brook they were following, was the girl’s first response. Then, “We must be mind readers,” she told him.
Dan glanced down into the dusky uplifted face and in his eyes there was an expression almost of adoration. “Meg,” he said, “doesn’t that alone prove that we are perfect comrades? We can sense each other’s unspoken thought.” Then, with greater seriousness: “I have hesitated about telling you, and moreover you have been in Scarsburg during the past week, but it is your right to know. Bob and Gerald and I have been searching for the box of which the dying Indian told you.”
“Why, Dan,” the girl’s surprise was unmistakable, “it is but wasting time. If the old Ute could not find it, surely it is not findable. There is a simpler way to learn of my parentage, and one which Pa Heger, Teacher Bellows and I are planning to undertake.” Then she told of the journey into the mountains upon which they expected to start when her examinations were completed. While Meg talked, she realized that Dan had still more to tell, and so she asked: “Where did you boys search, and did you find anything at all?”
“Yes, Meg, we did unearth something and that is why Bob and Gerry hurried away in so mysterious a fashion.” Then the lad told about the dirt-crusted shovel and pick and of the carved name.
“Giguette!” the girl repeated as though she were searching her memory for something forgotten. Then lifting a radiant face, she exclaimed: “Dan Abbott, that is my name. I was only a little thing, less than three, when someone taught me to lisp that my name was ‘Lalie Giguette’ when anyone asked. Until now, I had completely forgotten.”
CHAPTER XXXV
JANE AND JEAN
Meanwhile the three girls in the kitchen were preparing the evening meal with much nonsensical chatter, but Jane was finding the strain almost more than she could bear. She felt that she might overcome her desire to go to her room and sob her heart out, if only she could get away by herself for a few moments, and so she suddenly, exclaimed, “The one thing needed for our table is a bouquet. I saw a clump of the prettiest wild flowers yesterday, and if you girls will excuse me I’ll go and get them.” Merry at once saw through the ruse. Jane’s flushed cheeks, quivering lips and tear-brimmed eyes told the story, and so she urged, “Do go, Jane, before it is dark. The cool mountain air will do you good.” She did not offer to accompany her friend, realizing that she wanted to be alone.
Jane left the cabin, and after crossing the brook, she hurried toward the cleft in a rock where she had seen the flowers of which she had spoken, but instead of gathering them, she threw herself down on a wide, flat boulder and sobbed bitterly. She did not hear footsteps hurrying toward her, but suddenly she was conscious that someone had taken her hand and was holding it with great tenderness. “Of course it is Dan,” she thought, without glancing up. Dear old Dan who always understood. But in another second, when the someone spoke, Jane knew that it was Jean Willoughby and not her brother. Instantly she was on her feet, her cheeks flaming, her hand pressed over her pounding heart. There was a wild, frightened expression in her eyes and she was about to run, but she could not, for two strong arms caught and held her, as the lad implored, “Jane, dear, dear Jane, don’t spurn me any longer. Don’t you understand that I love you? The very fact that you could write that letter to me reveals the true nobility of your soul. I don’t blame you in the least for finding it hard, at first, to adjust yourself to the changed conditions, but when it came to the testing, you would have told your father to do just what he did.” Then, putting a hand over her quivering lips, he begged, “Don’t let’s talk about that subject now. There’s something ever so much more interesting that I want to say. Jane, can you care enough for me to promise to be my wife?”
The sudden change from misery to joy had been so great that the girl could hardly believe that it was real, and she gazed uncomprehendingly into the eager, handsome face of the lad. Then slowly she read in his glowing eyes the truth of all he had said, and she smiled tremulously. It was enough for Jean Willoughby. Joyfully he cried, “You do care, Jane!” Then taking from his pocket a ring, he added (and there was infinite tenderness in his voice), “That last summer on the coast of Maine, when little mother and I were alone together, she gave me this for you, dearest girl.”
Again there were sudden tears in the dark eyes that were lifted to his. “Not for me, Jean. Your mother would have chosen a girl who could do useful things; pare potatoes, sew and darn.”
The lad laughed happily, and catching the slim left hand, he slipped the ring on the finger for which it was intended. Then he kissed each of the five finger tips as he confessed, “It may seem inconsistent, but I want these lovely hands kept stainless. We will have a Chinaman to pare and cook.” Then slowly they walked toward the cabin.
Meg and Dan had returned and with Merry and Julie were standing on the rustic front porch wondering where Jane had wandered, and why she remained away so long. When they saw the two coming toward them, hand in hand, their faces, even in the dusk, that had so quickly fallen, revealing their secret, there was joy in the hearts of Merry and Dan. Jane would no longer be unhappy. When they had entered the lighted living-room of the cabin, Merry exclaimed as she held out her left hand, “I also am to be congratulated. I am to be married to Jean’s brother on the first day of September.” “Let’s make it a double wedding, Jane, can’t we?” her fiance implored.
“I’d like to!” The radiant girl glanced at Dan, then added, “If my big brother will give his consent.” “Indeed you have it, Jane,” that lad said heartily. “I know that I am voicing our father’s sentiments-to-be, when I say that I am proud to welcome Jean Willoughby into our family.”
Of their own secret Meg and Dan had decided to say nothing.
Then remembering the commonplaces, Jane said: “We’re waiting supper for the boys. Where did they go and why?” She looked at both Julie and Dan. “You two surely know, since you were with them. It is nearly seven and getting dark rapidly. Aren’t you anxious about them, Dan?”
“I shall be if they do not soon return,” the lad replied. “Perhaps we had better have the good supper you have prepared. There is no need to spoil it for all.”
“I’m not a bit hungry,” Jane said and Merry teased: “Why, Janey, you must be in love.”
The table had been placed in the middle of the cabin living-room. Over it hung a drop lamp with a crimson shade and, as there was a log burning on the hearth, the room presented a most festive appearance. It was with sincere regret that the six young people seated themselves, leaving two chairs vacant. All during the meal, at intervals, they paused to listen, hoping that they would hear the halloos of the returning boys.
Dan was becoming thoroughly alarmed and, at last, after a consultation with Meg, he turned to the others and said: “We have decided to tell you the mission on which the boys started out so hurriedly.”
Of course Jane and Merry had surmised that they had gone in quest of the hidden box, but they knew nothing of the finding of the pick, shovel and carved name, and they were much interested.
At eight o’clock Jean Willoughby rose. “I had better be going,” he said. “I have a long hike ahead of me.” But Dan protested. “Indeed you shall not go tonight. Mr. Packard will not be worried if you remain with us, will he? I may need your help to locate the boys if they do not soon return.”
That settled the matter, for Jean had not wished to leave. Another hour passed, and Dan, who had really become very anxious, arose, but before he could get his coat and cap, the halloos for which they had long listened were heard.
Leaping to the door, Dan threw it open and a welcoming light streamed out into the darkness.
Bob and Gerry, looking almost exhausted, staggered into the room (although Dan well knew that it was for effect) and sank down on the vacant chairs. “Say, talk about a climb! We certainly had a steep one!” Bob gasped.
The young people at once noted that neither boy was carrying a box and so they decided that it had not been found. “It isn’t such a terrible steep climb to Crazy Creek Camp,” Dan commented. “Half of the way is down grade.”
The two younger boys exchanged glances that were hard for the watchers to interpret. Then Bob sprang up, exclaiming: “Come on, kid. Let’s wash and have some of the good grub.”
“You must be nearly starved,” Jane said, also rising and going toward the kitchen. “We are keeping your share of the party warm.”
When they were gone, Dan said softly: “I’m inclined to believe that the boys have something of a surprising nature to tell us, but after Gerry’s usual fashion he wants to keep us guessing for a time.”
The two mountain climbers were indeed hungry and they ate heartily, talking aggravatingly of everything but the matter which they knew was uppermost in the minds of their companions. When they declared that another bite could not be taken, the table was cleared, magazines and books again spread upon it, and then Dan, feeling it unfair to Meg to keep her longer in suspense, exclaimed, “Now, boys, tell us your adventures.”
