Kitabı oku: «The Sun Maid: A Story of Fort Dearborn», sayfa 9
CHAPTER XV.
PARTINGS AND MEETINGS
Gaspar’s courage returned, and he led her to a sheltered place under the stockade, where he made her sit beside him for the brief time that was his.
“Not all because I do not like it; but because I am almost a man and I have found the chance of my life. There is one here, a voyageur, with his boat. The finest vessel I ever saw, though they’ve not been so many. He is going north into the great woods; will sail this morning. He is a great trader and hunter and he has asked me to apprentice myself to him. He promises he will make my fortune. He has taken as great a liking to me, I reckon, as I have to him. We shall get on famously together. In that broad, free life I shall grow a full man, and soon. I can earn money, and make a home for you and Wahneenah, and many another lonely, helpless soul. Yes, I must go. I can’t let the chance pass. And you must be brave, and the Sun Maid still, and forever. I shall want to think of you as always bright and full of laughter. Like yourself. But you are not like yourself now, Girl-Child. Why don’t you speak? Why don’t you say something?”
“I guess there isn’t any ‘say’ left in me, Gaspar,” answered the girl, in a tone so hopelessly sad that it almost made the lad waver in his determination. Only that wavering had no portion in the character of the ambitious youth, and he looked far forward toward a great good beyond the present pain.
When the day was well advanced, the schooner sailed away, from the dock at the foot of the path from fort to lake, with Gaspar upon her deck, trying to look more brave and manly than he really felt. But a forlorn little maid watched with eyes that shed no tears, and a pitiful attempt at a smile upon her quivering lips till the vessel became a mere speck, then disappeared.
After a long while, she was aroused by something again moving over the water.
“He’s coming back! My Gaspar’s coming back!” she cried, and tossed back the hair which the wind blew about her face that she might see the clearer. A moment later her disappointment found words: “It’s nothing but a common Indian canoe!”
However, she remembered her foster-brother had set her a task to do. She must begin it right away. She was to be as helpful to everybody she ever should meet as it was possible. Here might be one coming who hadn’t heard about that dreadful fifty-dollar prize money. She must call out and warn him. So she did, and never had human voice sounded pleasanter to any wayfarer. But her own intentness discovered something familiar in the appearance of the young brave, paddling so cautiously toward her and keeping so well to the shore. She began to question herself where she had seen him, and in a flash she remembered. Then, indeed, did she shout, and joyfully:
“Osceolo! Osceolo! Don’t you know me? Kitty? The Sun Maid? The daughter of your own tribe? Osceolo!”
“By the moccasins of my grandfather! You here? How? When? No matter. The brother of the Sun Maid rejoices. Never a friend so convenient. Run around to the edge of the wharf. There must be talk between us, and at once.”
He pushed his little boat close under the shadow of the pier that had long since been deserted of those who had come down to watch, as Kitty had done, the sailing of the northern-bound schooner. There was none to hear them, yet Osceolo chose to muffle his tones and to make himself mysterious. In truth, he was fleeing from justice, having been mixed up in a raid upon a settler’s homestead a few miles back; in which, fortunately, there had been no bloodshed, though a deal of thieving and other dirty work which would make it uncomfortable for the young warrior should he be caught just then. The story he was prepared to tell was true as far as it went; and the Sun Maid was too innocent to suspect guile in others. She thought he was referring to the prize money when he spoke of quite other matters; and after the briefest inquiry and answer as to what had befallen either since their parting at doomed Muck-otey-pokee, he concluded:
“Now, Sister-Of-My-Heart, Blood-Daughter-Of-My-Chief, you must help me. You must give me, or lend me, a horse; and you must bring me food. Then I will ride to fetch you back Wahneenah.”
“Oh! You know where she is? Can you do it and not be taken?”
“Is not the Brother of the Sun Maid now become a mighty warrior?”
“You – you don’t look so very mighty,” returned the girl, truthfully.
Osceolo frowned. “That is as one sees. Fetch me the horse and the meat, if you would have your Other Mother restored.”
“I will. I will!” she cried, and ran back to the Fort. She went first to the kitchen, and begged a meal “for a stranger that’s just come,” and the food was given her without question. Strangers were always coming to be fed; herself, also, no longer ago than the last evening.
From the kitchen to the stables, where a bright thought came to her. She would lead the Tempest to Osceolo, and herself ride the Snowbird. Together they would go to find Wahneenah.
“The black gelding?” asked the soldier of whom she sought assistance. “The hostler can maybe tell you. But I think the Black Partridge rode away on him before daybreak.”
“The Black Partridge! Oh! I had forgotten him in my trouble about Gaspar. Did any harm come to him, sir?”
“No. What harm should? If every red-skin in Illinois was like him there’d be little need of us fellows out here in this mud-hole. But you look disappointed. If you want to take a ride, there’s the white mare you came on. But you’d better not go far away. It isn’t safe for a child like you.”
“I’m not afraid, but – Well, if Tempest’s gone, I can’t. That’s all.”
So the Snowbird was brought out, and she led the pretty creature away behind the shelter of the few trees which hid the spot where Osceolo had bade her meet him.
“I tried to get Tempest for you, but the Chief has ridden him away. I meant to go with you. But you’ll have to go alone. Tell my darling Other Mother that I am here, and waiting. Tell her about Gaspar, and that he said he had found out she would be quite safe here. Why, so, I suppose, would you. I didn’t think.”
“No, I shouldn’t,” returned the young Indian hastily. Then, noting her surprise, explained:
“I’m a warrior, you see. That makes a difference.”
“It will be all right, though, I think. And if you cannot come back with Wahneenah, do hurry and send her by herself. Will you?”
“Oh, I’ll hurry!” answered the youth, evasively, and leaped to the Snowbird’s back. The food he had stuffed within his shirt till a more convenient season, and with a cry that even to Kitty’s trusting ears sounded in some way derisive, he was off out of sight along the lakeside.
As the Snowbird disappeared, Kitty felt that the last link between herself and her friends had been severed, and for a moment the tears had sway. Then, ashamed of her own weakness and remembering her promise to Gaspar that she would be “just the sunniest kind of a girl, and true to her name,” she brushed them away and entered the busy Fort, to proffer her services to the women in charge.
These had already learned her story and had reprimanded her for running away from her protectors, the Smiths; but it was nobody’s business to return her and, meanwhile, she was safe at the Fort until they should choose to call for her.
“Well, there is always plenty of work in the world for the hands that will do it,” said an officer’s wife, with a kindly smile. “You seem too small to be of much practical use; but, however, if you want a task, there are some little fellows yonder who need amusing and comforting. Their mother has died of a fever, and their father is more of a student and preacher than a nurse. I guess his wife was the ruling spirit in the household, and now that she has left him, he is sadly unsettled. He doesn’t know whether to go on and take up the claim he expected or not. He and you, and the oddly-named little sons, may all yet have to become wards of the Government.”
“I’m very sorry for him.”
“You well may be. Yet he’s a gentle, blessed old man. No more fit to marry and bring that flock of youngsters out here into the wilderness than I am to command an army. She was much younger than he, and felt the necessity of doing something toward providing for their children and educating them. But the more I talk, the more I puzzle you. Run along and lend them a hand. The very smallest Littlejohn of the lot has filled his mouth with dirt, and is trying to squall it out. See if a drink of water won’t mend matters.”
Kitty hastened to the child, and begged;
“My dear, don’t cry like that. You are disturbing the people.”
“Don’t care. I ain’t my dear; I’m Four.”
“You’re what?”
“Just Four. Four Littlejohns. What pretty hair you’ve got. May I pull it?”
“I’d rather not. Unless it will make you forget the dirt you ate.”
But the permission given, the child became indifferent to it. He pointed to three other lads crouching against the door-step, and explained:
“They’re One, Two, and Three. My father, he says it saves trouble. Some folks laugh at us. They say it’s funny to be named that way. I was eating the dirt because I was – I was mad.”
“Indeed! At whom?”
“At everybody. I’m just mis’able. I don’t care to live no longer.”
The round, dimpled face was so exceedingly wholesome and happy, despite its transient dolefulness, that Kitty laughed and her merriment brought an answering smile to the four dusty countenances before her.
“Wull – wull – I is. My father, he’s mis’able, too. So, course, we have to be. He’s a minister man. He can’t tell stories. He just tells true ones out the Bible. Can you tell Bible stories?”
“No. I – I’m afraid I don’t know much about that book. Mercy had one, but she kept it in the drawer. She took it out on Sundays, though. She didn’t let Gaspar nor me touch it. She said we might spoil the cover. That was red. It was a reward of merit when she was a girl. It had clasps, and was very beautiful. It had pictures in it, too, about saints and dead folks; but I never read it. I couldn’t read it if I tried, you know, because I’ve never been taught.”
This was amazing to the four book-crammed small Littlejohns. One exclaimed, with superior disgust:
“Such a great big girl, and can’t read your Bible! You must be a heathen, and bow down to wood and stone.”
“Maybe I am. I don’t remember bowing down to anything, except when I say my prayers.”
“Your prayers! Then you can’t be a real heathen. Heathens don’t say prayers, not our kind. Hmm. What lovely eyes you’ve got and how pretty you are! All the women never saw such wonderful hair as yours, nor the men either. I heard them say so. If I had a sister, I’d like her to look just like you. But it’s wicked to be vain.”
“What do you mean, you funny boy?”
“I’m not funny. I’m serious. My mother – my mother said – my mother – Oh! I want her! I want her!”
Religion, superiority, priggishness, all flew to the winds as his real and fresh grief overcame him; and it was a heart-broken lad that hurled himself against the shoulder of this sympathetic-looking girl who, though so much taller, was not so very much older than he.
The Sun Maid’s own heart echoed the cry with a keen pain, and she received the orphan’s outburst with exceeding tenderness. Now, whatever One, the eldest, did the other young numerals all imitated, so that each was soon weeping copiously. Yet, from very excess of energy, their grief soon exhausted itself and they regarded each other with some curiosity. Then Three began to smile, in a shamefaced sort of way, not knowing how far his recovery of composure would be approved by sterner One.
After a habit familiar to him the latter opened his lips to reprove but, fortunately, refrained, as he discovered a tall, stoop-shouldered man crossing the parade-ground.
This gentleman seemed oddly out of place amid that company of immigrants and soldiers. Student and bookworm was written all over his fine, intellectual countenance, and his eyes had that absent expression that had made the commandant’s wife call him a “dreamer.”
His bearing impressed the Sun Maid with reverent awe; a feeling apparently not shared by his sons. For Three ran to him and shook him violently, to secure attention, as he eagerly exclaimed:
“Oh, father! We’ve found one of ’em already! A heathen. Or, any way, a heatheny sort of a girl, but not Indian. She doesn’t know how to read, and she hasn’t any Bible. Come and give her one and teach her quick!”
“Eh? What? A heathen? My child, where?”
“Right there with my brothers. That yellow-headed girl. She’s nice. Are all the heathen as pretty as she is?”
“My son, that young person? Surely, you are mistaken. She must be the daughter of some resident at the Fort, or of some traveller like ourselves.”
“I don’t believe she is. She’s been taking care of herself all day. I haven’t heard anybody tell her ‘Don’t’ once. If she belonged to folk they’d do it wouldn’t they?”
“Very likely. Parents have to discipline their young. Don’t drag me so. I’m walking fast enough.”
“That’s what I say, father. ‘Don’t’ shows I belong to you. But I do wish you’d come. She might get away before you could catch her.”
“Catch her, Three? I don’t understand.”
“I know it. My mother used to say you never did understand plain every-day things. That’s why she had to take care of you the same as us. Oh! I wish we’d never come to this horrid place.”
The reference to his wife and the child’s grief roused the clergyman more completely than even an appeal for the heathen. Laying his thin hand tenderly upon the small rumpled head, he stroked it as he answered:
“In my flesh I echo that wish, laddie; but in my spirit I am resigned to whatever the Lord sends. If there is a heathen here, there is His work to do, and in that I can forget my own distress. I will walk faster if you wish.”
The other small Littlejohns, with Kitty, now joined their father and Three, the girl regarding him with some curiosity, for he was of a stamp quite different from any person she had ever seen. But he won her instant love as, holding out his hands in welcome, he exclaimed:
“Why, my daughter! Surely the lads were jesting. You look neither ignorant nor heathen, and in personal gifts the Lord has been most kind to you.”
“Has He? But I am rather lonely now.”
“And so am I. Therefore, we will be the better friends. Why, sons, this is just what we need to make our group complete. Maybe, lassie, your parents will spare you to us, now and then.”
“I have no parents. I am a ward of Government, though I don’t understand it. I wish – are you too busy to hear my story, and will you advise me? Gaspar told me some things, but he’s not old and wise like you, dear sir.”
“Old I am, indeed, but far from wise. Though, so well as I know I will most gladly counsel you. Let us go yonder, to that shady place beside the great wall, where there are benches to rest on and quiet to listen in.”
Now small Four Littlejohns had heard a deal about heathen. They had been the dearest theme of all the stories told him, and he caught his father’s hand with a detaining grasp:
“She might eat you all up, father!”
“Boy, what are you saying?”
“She isn’t like the picture in my story-book of the heathen that lived in India, and all the people worshipped, that was named a god, One told me when I asked him; but I guess heathens can change like fairies; and, please don’t go, father, don’t!”
“Nonsense, Four. What trash are you talking? It is you who are the heathen now.”
“I, father? I!”
In horror of a possible change in his person, the child began to feel of his plump face and pinch his fat body. He even imagined he was stiffening all over. Suddenly, he drew his wide mouth into a grotesque imitation of the engraving as he remembered it, planting his feet firmly and setting up a tragic wail.
“I’m not like him. I won’t be. I won’t, I won’t, I won’t!”
Kitty understood nothing but the evident distress, which she attempted to soothe and merely aggravated.
“Get away! Don’t you touch me! You go away home and sit on a table with your legs all crooked up – so; and stop playing you’re a regular girl. Leave go my father’s hand, I say!”
Then One came to the rescue. As soon as he could stop laughing, he explained the situation to the others, and though the incident seemed a trivial one to the younger people to the good Doctor it was weighty with reproach for the ignorance he had permitted in his own household. It also had its far-reaching results; for it led him to observe the Sun Maid critically, and, when he had heard her simple story, to ask out of the fulness of his own big heart:
“Will you come and share our home with us, my daughter? Surely, you have much good sense and many wonderful gifts. The Lord has thrown us into one another’s company, and I believe you can, in large measure, take their mother’s place to these sons of mine. Will you come and live in our home, dear Sun Maid?”
“Indeed, I will! And love you for letting me!” cried the grateful girl, catching the Doctor’s hand and kissing it reverently.
But it did not occur to either of these innocents that there was, at that time, no home existing for them.
CHAPTER XVI.
THE SHUT AND THE OPEN DOOR
“They are all unfitted to take care of themselves, though the girl has the best sense of the lot. The Fort is always overfull. They would be happier by themselves, and it will be a blessing to have such a good man among us. Let us build them a log cabin and instal them in it.”
Such was the Fort commandant’s decision and, as he suggested, it was quickly done. The old maxim of many hands and light work was verified, for in a magically short time the little parsonage was reared and the few belongings of the household moved into it.
“That’s what it seems to me,” – cried the Sun Maid, as the last stroke was given, and a soldier climbed to the roof-peak to thrust a fresh green branch into the crevice, – “as if yesterday we dreamed we wanted a home, and now it’s ours. If only Wahneenah and Gaspar were here, I should be almost too happy to live. Yes, and poor Mercy Smith, who says she never did have a good time in her life; and Abel, and Black Partridge; and – ”
“Everybody! I guess you’re wanting,” reproved the elder son of the minister. For, during the time of building, short though it was, the orphan girl had become wholly identified with the Littlejohns’ household and felt as full a right to the cabin as if it had been her own especial property.
Now, suddenly, as she stood in the doorway there came into her mind the prophecy of old Katasha; and she looked afar, as if she saw visions and heard voices denied to the others. So rapt did her gaze become that little Four stole his pudgy hand into hers and inquired, beneath his breath:
“What is it, Kitty? What do you see?”
“I see crowds and crowds of people. Of all sorts, all forms, all colors, all races. Crowding, crowding, and yet not crushing. Only coming, more – and more – and more. I see strange buildings. Bigger than any pictures in that book you showed me yesterday. They keep rising and spreading out on every side. I see ships on the lake; curious ones, with tall masts, a hundred times taller than that in which my Gaspar sailed away. They are so laden with people and stuff that I – I – it seems to choke me!”
She did not notice that the Doctor had drawn near and was listening intently; and even when his hand touched her shoulder she found it difficult to comprehend what he was saying.
“Wake up, lassie! Why, what is this? My practical new daughter growing a star-gazer, like the foolish old man? That won’t do for our little housekeeper.”
“Won’t it, sir? I guess I’ve been dreaming. But I know I shall see all that some day, right here in this spot. This is the lake where the big ships sail, and this the ground where the houses stand.”
One was at hand with his ever-ready reproof.
“That’s all nonsense, Kitty Briscoe. A person can’t see more than a person can. There are neither houses nor ships, such as you talk about, and you are sillier than any fairy story I ever read.”
Yet long afterward he was to remember that first hour in the new home, and the rapt face of the girl gazing skyward.
Then they all went in to supper, which had been provided by the thoughtful friends at the Fort across the river; but which, the Sun Maid assured the busy women there, must be the only meal supplied that was ready prepared.
“For, if I’m to be housekeeper I mean to learn all about that, even before I do the books, which the Doctor will teach me and that I am so eager to study. But I’ll be his home-maker first, and I’ll give them jonny-cake for breakfast. Mercy said it was cheap and wholesome, and we have to be very careful of the Doctor’s little money.”
How wholesome, rather how most unwholesome, that first jonny-cake proved, Kitty never after liked to recall; but she was not the only young house mistress who has made mistakes; and, fortunately, the master of the house was not critical. And how far the study-craving girl would have carried out her own plan of housewifery before reading is not known; for, having done the best she could, and having, at least, swept and dusted the rooms carefully she took little Four by the hand and set out to ask instruction of her Fort friends against the dinner-getting.
Now the fascinating dread and interest of this little fellow was an Indian; and, trudging along through the dirt, he scanned the horizon critically, then suddenly gripped her hand hard and tight.
“Kitty! I do believe – there are – some coming! Run! Run!”
“Why should I run? The Indians are my best and oldest friends. It might even be – ”
She paused so long, shading her eyes from the sunlight and gazing fixedly across the landscape with a gathering surprise and delight upon her face, that the child clutched her frock, demanding:
“What is it, Kitty? What do you see? What do you see?”
“The horses! White, black, and – Chestnut! It’s Wahneenah! Wahneenah!”
Four watched her disappear behind a clump of bushes that hid the sandhills from his lower sight, then hurried back to the new cabin, crying out:
“Father, father! She’s run away again! We’ve lost her!”
Before the minister could be made to comprehend his son’s excited story, voices without drew him to the entrance. Even to him the name of Indian had, in those days, a sinister significance. Yet, as he reached the threshold, there were the Sun Maid’s arms about his neck and her ecstatic declaration:
“It’s my darling Other Mother! She’s come! She’ll live with us! And the Black Partridge; and Osceolo, and Tempest, and Snowbird, and the Chestnut! Oh, all together again; how happy we shall be!”
“Eh? What? Yes, yes, of course,” assented the Doctor, though he cast a rather perplexed glance about his limited apartments. “Well, if it’s to be part of my work, I am ready,” he added resignedly, and not without thought of the quiet study which would be out of the question in a tenement so crowded.
The chief and the clergyman had met before, during the former’s last visit to the Fort, and they greeted each other suavely, as would two white gentlemen of culture and unquestioned standing. Then, while the Sun Maid drew Wahneenah aside and exhibited the cabin, the two men talked together and rapidly became friends.
“The Lord never shuts one door but He opens another. I came here to instruct, hoping to pass far onward into the wilderness. Behold! the heathen are at my very threshold. He took away my wife and sent me a daughter. Now, at her heels, follows a woman of the race I came to help, who looks more noble than most of her white sisters. As the Sun Maid said, shall we not do? Only – where to house them?”
“That is soon settled. Neither the chief’s daughter nor the youth, Osceolo, could sleep beneath the tight roof of the pale-face. Their wigwams shall be pitched behind this cabin, and there will they abide. So will I arrange with the people at the Fort, who are my friends. Yet, let the great medicine-man keep a sharp eye to the young brave, Osceolo. He is my kinsman. There is good in the youth, and there is, also, evil – much evil. He lies upon the ground to dream wild schemes, then rises up to practise them. He is like the pale-faces – by birth a liar. He is not to be trusted. Only by fear does he become as clay in the hands of the potter. If my brother, the great medicine-man, will accept this charge I ask of him there shall be always venison in plenty, and bear’s meat, and the flesh of cattle, at his door. He shall have corn from the fields of the scattered Pottawatomies, and the fuel for his hearth-fire shall never waste. How says my brother, the wise medicine-man?”
“What can I say but that the Black Partridge is as generous as he is brave, and that his readiness to support a minister of the gospel amazes me? In that more settled East, from which I came, the rich men gave grudgingly to their pastor of such things as themselves did not need, and I was always in poverty. Therefore, for the sake of my sons, I came hither. Truly, in this wilderness, I have received evil at the hand of the Lord; but I have, also, received much good. If He wills, from this humble tenement shall go forth a blessing that cannot be measured. Leave the woman and the undisciplined youth with me. I will deal with them as I am given wisdom.”
This was the beginning of a new, rich life for the Sun Maid. It opened to Wahneenah, also, a period of unbroken happiness. The minister, over whose household affairs she promptly assumed a wise control, honored her with his confidence and abided by her clear-sighted counsel. She was constantly associated with her beloved Girl-Child, and could watch the rapid development of her intellect and all-loving heart.
Indeed, Love was the keynote to Kitty Briscoe’s character; and out of love for everybody about her, and especially in hope to be of use to her Indian friends, sprang the greatest incentive to study.
“The more I know, the better I can help them to understand,” she said to Wahneenah, who agreed and approved.
The years sped quietly and rapidly by, as busy years always do. Some changes came to the little settlement of Chicago, but they were only few; until, one sunny day in spring, there reached the ears of the Sun Maid a sudden cry that seemed to turn all the months backward, as a scroll is rolled.
Bending above her table, strewn with the Doctor’s notes which she was copying, in the pleasant room of a big frame house that was one of the few new things of the town, she heard the call; dimly at first, as an out-of-door incident which did not concern herself. When it was repeated, she started visibly, and cried out:
“I know that voice! That’s Mercy Smith! There was never another just like it!”
She sprang up and ran to answer, shouting in return:
“Halloo! What is it?”
“Help!”
A few rods’ run beyond the clump of trees that bordered the garden revealed the difficulty. A heavy wagon, loaded with bags of grain, was mired in the mud of the prairie road. A woman stood upright in the vehicle, lashing and scolding the oxen, which tried, but failed, to extricate the wheels from the clay that held them fast.
“I’m coming! I’m Kitty! And, Mercy – is it really you?”
“Well, if I ain’t beat! You’re Kitty, sure enough! But what a size!”
“Yes. I’m a woman now, almost. How glad I am to see you! How’s Abel? Where is he?”
“Must be glad, if you’d let so many years go by without once comin’ to visit me.”
“I didn’t know that you’d be pleased to have me. I didn’t treat you well, to leave you as I did. But where’s Abel?”
“Home. Trying to sell out. My land! How pretty you’ve growed! Only that white dress and hair a-streamin’; be you dressed for a party, child?”
“Oh, no, indeed! I’ll run and get something to help you out with, if you’ll be patient.”
“Have to be, I reckon, since I’m stuck tight. No hurry. The oxen’ll rest. I’ve heard about you, out home – how ’t you’d found a rich minister to take you in an’ eddicate you, an’ your keepin’ half-Indian still. Might have taught you to brush your hair, I ’low; an’ from appearances you’d have done better to have stayed with me. You hain’t growed up very sensible, have you?”
The Sun Maid laughed, just as merrily and infectiously as when she had first crept for shelter into Mercy Smith’s cabin.
“Maybe not. I’m not the judge. I’ll test my wisdom, though, by trying to help you out of that mud. I’ll be back in a moment.”
She turned to run toward the house, but Mercy remonstrated:
“You can’t help in them fine clothes. Ain’t there no men around?”
“A few. Most of them are out of the village on a big hunting frolic. We’ll manage without.”
“Humph! They’d better be huntin’ Indians.”
The girl looked up anxiously. “Is there any trouble?”
“Always trouble where the red-skins are.”
Kitty departed, and the settler’s wife watched her with feelings of mingled admiration, anger, and astonishment.
“She’s grown, powerful. Tall an’ straight as an Indian, an’ fair as a snowflake. Such hair! I don’t wonder she wears it that way, though I wouldn’t humor her by lettin’ on. I’ve heard she did it to please her ‘tribe’ an’ the old minister. Well, there’s always plenty of fools. They’re a crop ’at never fails.”
The Sun Maid reappeared. She had not stopped to change her white gown, but she brought a pair of snow-shoes, and carried three or four short planks across her strong, firm shoulder.
“My sake! Ain’t you tough! I couldn’t lift one them planks, rugged as I call myself, let alone four. But – snow-shoes in the springtime?”
“Yes. I’ve learned a way for myself of helping the many who get mired out here. See how quickly I can set you free.”
Putting on the shoes, the girl walked straight over the mud, and throwing down the planks before the animals, encouraged them to help themselves.
“What are their names? Jim and Pete? Come on, my poor beasts; and, once clear, you shall have a fine rest and feed.”
“Shucks! There! Go on! Giddap! Gee! Haw!”
There followed a time of suspense, but at last the oxen gained a little advance, when Kitty promptly moved the planks forward, and in due time the wagon rolled out upon a firmer spot.
