Part 3 (1/2)
”How long may he stay there without being killed? Until maybe somebody can be found to take him.”
”He may stay there one week. But now we must move along. Fasten the horse's halter to the back of my wagon, men, and I'll see to it that he is comfortable to-night anyway.”
The halter rope was tied, and the strange procession started slowly back toward Riveredge.
CHAPTER IV
Baltie is Rescued
”How old are you, little la.s.sie?” asked Hadyn Stuyvesant, looking down upon the little figure beside him, his fine eyes alive with interest and the smile which none could resist lighting his face, and displaying his white even teeth.
”I'm just a little over ten,” answered Jean, looking up and answering his smile with one equally frank and trustful, for little Jean Carruth did not understand the meaning of embarra.s.sment.
”Are you Mrs. Bernard Carruth's little daughter? I knew her nephew well when at college, although I've been away from Riveredge so long that I've lost track of her and her family.”
”Yes, she is my mother. Mr. Bernard Carruth was my father,” and a little choke came into Jean's voice, for, although not yet eight years of age when her father pa.s.sed out of her life, Jean's memory of him was a very tender one, and she sorely missed the kind, cheery, sympathetic companions.h.i.+p he had given his children. Hadyn Stuyvesant was quick to note the catch in the little girl's voice, and the tears which welled up to her eyes, and a strong arm was placed about her waist to draw her a little closer to his side, as, changing the subject, he said very tenderly:
”You have had an exciting hour, little one. Sit close beside me and don't try to talk; just rest, and let _me_ do the talking. We must go slowly on Baltie's account; the poor old horse is badly knocked about and stiffened up. Suppose we go right to Mr. Pringle's livery stable and ask him to take care of him a few days any way. Don't you think that would be a good plan?”
”But who will _pay_ for him? Don't you have to pay board for horses just like people pay their board?” broke in Jean anxiously.
Hadyn Stuyvesant smiled at the practical little being his arm still so comfortingly encircled.
”I guess the Society can stand the expense,” he answered.
”Has it got _lots_ of money to do such things with?” asked Jean, bound to get at the full facts.
”I'm afraid it hasn't got 'lots of money'--I wish it had,--but I think it can pay a week's board for old Baltie in consideration of what you have done for him. It will make you happier to know he will be comfortable for a little while any way, won't it?”
”Oh, yes! yes! And, and--perhaps _I_ could pay the next week's if we didn't find somebody the first week. I've got 'most five dollars in my Christmas bank. I've been saving ever since last January; I always begin to put in something on New Year's day, if it's only five cents, and then I never, never take any out 'till it's time to buy our next Christmas presents. And I really _have_ got 'most five dollars, and would _that_ be enough for another week?” and the bonny little face was raised eagerly to her companion's. Hadyn Stuyvesant then and there lost his heart to the little creature at his side. It is given to very few ”grown-ups” to slip out of their own adult years and by some magical power pick up the years of their childhood once more, with all the experiences and view-points of that childhood, but Hadyn Stuyvesant was one of those few. He felt all the eagerness of Jean's words and his answer held all the confidence and enthusiasm of _her_ ten years rather than his own twenty-three.
”Fully enough. But we will hope that a home may be found for Baltie before the first week has come to an end. And here we are at Mr.
Pringle's. Raulsbury I shall have to ask you to get out here,” added Mr. Stuyvesant, as he, himself, sprang from the depot wagon to the sidewalk.
Raulsbury made no reply but stepped to the sidewalk, where, at a slight signal from Hadyn Stuyvesant, an officer of the Society who had his office in the livery stable came forward and motioned to Raulsbury to follow him. As they disappeared within the stable, Mr. Stuyvesant said to the proprietor:
”Pringle, I've got a boarder for you. Don't know just how long he will stay, but remember, nothing is too good for him while he does, for he is this little girl's protege, and I hold myself responsible for him.”
”All right, Mr. Stuyvesant. All right, sir. He shall have the best the stable affords. Come on, old stager; you look as if you wanted a curry-comb and a feed pretty bad,” said Pringle, as he untied Baltie's halter. With all the gentleness of the blue-blooded old fellow he was, Baltie raised his mud-splashed head, sniffed at Mr. Pringle's coat and nickered softly, as though acknowledging his proffered hospitality.
The man stroked the muddy neck encouragingly, as he said:
”He don't look much as he did eighteen years ago, does he, Mr.
Stuyvesant?”
”I'm afraid I don't remember how he looked eighteen years ago, Pringle; there wasn't much of me to remember _with_ about that time.
But I remember how he looked _eight_ years ago, before I went to Europe, and the contrast is enough to stir me up considerable. It's about time such conditions were made impossible, and I'm going to see what I can do to start a move in that direction,” concluded Mr.
Stuyvesant, with an ominous nod toward the stable door, through which Raulsbury had disappeared.