Part 7 (1/2)
”I couldn't go barefooted. My feet would hurt so. I'll have to risk the shoes. I have others in my suit-case, wherever it is.”
”Well, come on then. You can step light through the ma'sh and 'twon't be so bad. Wait till I fetch a lantern.”
”A lantern, in this moonlight?”
”Sure. 'Twon't s.h.i.+ne into the woods. The trees are awful thick and though I could go straight there and back, without stumbling once, you're new to the way an' the light's for you. I don't want you to get hurt just goin' for a mess o' fis.h.!.+”
”Thank you, Mattie. That is very considerate of you. Shall I carry it?”
Mattie was pleased by the other girl's ”thank you.” Such small courtesies were almost unknown to her, but she determined to remember how ”good” it had made her feel and to experiment with it upon somebody else, sometime. Even as Helena's table-setting had also been a lesson in neatness; and with her eagerness to learn she felt that she had been amply repaid for giving up her sleep. Chattering as if she had always known the stranger she led the way safely to the pool, deep in the woods; and Helena never forgot that scene. Except for the slight illumination of the lantern the blackness of the forest was intense, and the rustling of wild things among the tree-tops startled her.
Mattie looked up and saw her fear, then laughed hilariously:
”Two 'fraid-cats together, you an' the birds! Likely, they never saw a lantern before and hate to be disturbed even more 'n I did, listenin' to Alfaretta in the kitchen. But don't you like it? Ain't it awful solemn in such woods in the night-time? Makes a body think of all the hateful things she's done and sort of wish she hadn't done 'em. But there ain't no livin' thing in these woods'll hurt you, nowadays, though onct they was chock full o' grizzlies an' such. Now I guess that's enough. Don't suppose your folks'd eat a bigger mess 'n that, do you? 'Cause I could take a few more if you say so.”
Helena looked at the big basket of trout and laughed, then s.h.i.+vered at the echo of her own laughter in that place, which seemed full as ”solemn” to her as it did to the more accustomed Mattie.
They were soon back at the inn, Mattie at once proceeding to show Alfaretta that she could do some fine cooking herself; and between them they made Mrs. Roderick's larder suffer, so eager was each to outdo the other and to suggest some further delicacy for that wonderful meal.
Mrs. Ford paced in and out of the living-room, watchful and still anxious, though greatly amused at the doings of the three girls, and wondering, as well, how the landlady could sleep through all that din and chatter. For Helena, too, had gone into the kitchen and seizing a pitcher of cream Mattie was carrying to the table, demanded a chance to ”whip” it.
”It's such an improvement, or will be for that good coffee you've made, and Herbert likes it so much.”
Mattie put her arms akimbo and stared; then demanded, in turn:
”Can't you do anything sensibler than 'whip' cream? As if it was bad.
You make me laugh, though I don't know what you mean.”
Helena soon showed her, even with a two-tined steel fork beating the rich cream into a heaped-up, foamy ma.s.s, which Mattie declared was the ”wonderfulest thing” she had ever seen. They were still discussing the matter, and each sampling the delicacy with relish, when Mrs. Ford's excited voice was heard, calling:
”They're coming! Oh! they're coming at last! Away down the road! I can hear them--beyond the turn of the road. Only it seems that they come slowly. Is it so? Or is it my own impatience?”
Only Alfaretta stopped to push the pans and pots to the cool, safe end of the great stove, now glowing red in front from the hot fire they had made. The other girls rushed outward to see for themselves, and Alfy reached the piazza just in time to hear Mattie remark:
”Yes, they do travel powerful slow. They ain't in no hurry to get here.
Somethin's happened. You can just believe me--somethin's happened!”
CHAPTER V
THE CALL OF THE MOUNTAINS
As the approaching company came around the bend of the road into sight of the inn, a ”calico” pony detached itself from the group of riders and before those watching on the porch could hear her words, Molly was shouting to them:
”We're all right! Everybody is all right--except the one that isn't! And he--Wait, I'm coming!”
The three girls ran down the road to meet her, and even Lady Gray walked swiftly after, and in a moment more they had encircled the truant with their loving arms, forgetting that she had given them a needless anxiety.
”They weren't Indians at all. They were just our own folks, but Leslie and I were frightened half to death! I don't know what would have become of us except the pony told our story. And he's only smashed up a little some way. They had to hold him on the horse--”
”What! Leslie, my Leslie, my boy!” gasped Mrs. Ford.
”Leslie? No, indeed! Nothing the matter with him only riding the rack-o'-bones. The 'Tenderfoot' man, and the cowboys say it served him right. Only he got off too easy with just a broken collar bone, and a sprained ankle, and some teeth gone--and a few other trifles like that.