Part 23 (2/2)

Yes, they were all strong and well; except Viola, who still declared she had got her death, and should never recover.

”Well, but what's the use?” asked Rose. ”I think this is great fun, to come to a pretty place like this, and sit and talk and look at the view; but just to go on walking and stalking along the way you and the Owls do,--what's the use of it? We are not ostriches, and why should we pretend we are? Besides, it takes such a lot of time.”

”And what would you be doing with your time?” asked Peggy, hotly.

”Reading stories, or just sitting, sitting, and talking, talking. My goodness gracious _me_! the way some of the girls just sit around all their spare time, doing nothing, makes me tired. Why, if I hadn't stalked, as you call it, how would you have come here to-day, and seen the prettiest place you ever saw since you came here--for it is, and you can't deny it, girls. I do hate to see people doing nothing. I don't much care what they do, so long as it is _something_!”

”Peggy, you're getting very ferocious, do you know it?” said Clara Fair.

”And, after all, we did come, and now we are doing just as much as you are, and why are you shouting at us?”

”I won't shout any more,” said Peggy, laughing. ”I suppose we all have our hobbies, haven't we? Walking is one of mine; and you are going to like it just as much as I do, girls, before we get through the term.

Why, there are about twenty of the loveliest walks, and none of them--hallo!”

Peggy stopped abruptly, and seemed to listen.

”What's the matter?” asked Rose. ”I didn't hear anything.”

”I thought I did,” said Peggy, quietly. ”Be still a minute, will you?”

She bent her head. There was a moment of perfect silence; then, somewhere close at hand, a singular dry, rattling sound.

”What a queer noise!” said Ethel. ”What is it?”

”It's time to go home, girls!” said Peggy. ”You'd better start along, and I'll come behind you. Come, Viola, give me your hand--so! Now take her, Rose, and hurry along! Lobelia, go with them, will you?”

”What upon earth is the matter, Peggy Montfort?” asked Rose, eyeing her curiously. ”What do you want to get us out of the way for? I believe you have found something, and want to keep it to yourself.”

”Rose, _please_ go!” said Peggy, earnestly. ”I am coming, I tell you.

No, not there! that way--along by the big pine. Keep away from the rock--so! Now hurry, and I'm coming right along.”

The girls hardly knew why they obeyed; but there was such a singular earnestness in Peggy's look and gesture that they did not stay to question her, but one and all--or so it seemed--turned and hastened down the side of the hill.

No sooner were their backs turned than Peggy, whose keen eyes had been fixed all this time on one spot, moved swiftly behind a great rock that stood close by. There, stooping, she sought with eager hands and eyes; sought and found a stout stick. She tried its strength--it was strong and tough. Then warily she came back, and looked once more at the pile of withered leaves that had riveted her attention before. The pile seemed to move--to undulate; and from it came once more the dry, rattling sound. Something reared itself, brown and slender; at the same instant a shriek rang through the wood. It did not come from Peggy's lips. Like a flash, the girl had sprung forward, and caught the snake's neck under her crotched stick, just as he was raising himself to strike.

Pinned firmly to the earth, the creature could only twist and wriggle in impotent rage. Looking around coolly, Peggy saw Lobelia's face peering around the trunk of a tree, pale with horror.

”Well!” said Peggy. ”You are a nice obedient child, aren't you? Since you are there, you might get me a good stone; he's all right; he can't get his head round.”

Gasping and trembling, Lobelia found and brought a stone, which she held out at arm's length.

”Oh, Peggy!” she whispered. ”Is it--is it a rattlesnake?”

”That's what!” said Peggy, relapsing into slang in the absorption of the moment. ”He won't be a rattlesnake much longer, though. There! now you can look, Lobelia; he's dead. I tell you he's dead, as dead as Julius Caesar. What are you crying for, child?”

Lobelia came forward, trembling and cringing.

”Oh, Peggy, I knew it was. I didn't say anything, because I thought you wouldn't want me to--”

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