It was a bright breezy day, clear sunshine after rain, and every one was
full of energy. All the pleasure-seekers had gone off, some riding, some
driving, and several walking parties had been made up.
Two boys on the end of the piazza were discussing a proposed excursion,
while the sister of one, a slight, bright-eyed girl of twelve, stood
silently listening to their plans.
"We can go and take our luncheon with us just as well as not," said Tom,
the elder of the two.
"But it will be an awful climb, and you don't know the path," replied
Stanton. "Besides, Cassie can't go so far."
"Leave her at home, then; girls are no good anyway," said Tom, rudely;
then remembering himself, he added, "I beg your pardon, Miss Cassie, I
didn't mean exactly that, but you know girls always give out on an
expedition of this sort."
"Just you try me," said Cassie, not in the least put out, for she was
accustomed to boys.
"Well," said Tom, reluctantly, "I suppose we must. But you will be
fagged out in less than no time, and then you'll want one of us to go
home with you."
"If I do I'll promise not to go again all summer. What are you looking
for, Stanton?"
"My axe, to blaze the trees; you don't want to be lost, do you?"
"No, of course I don't. Then you will take me? Good. I'll go after the
basket, and my pressing-book for ferns. Shall I get anything to read?"
"No. Who wants to read in the woods? There's always lots to do."
Cassie thought differently, and slipped a little thin volume beside the
bread and cake and fruit which the housekeeper gave her.
The boys meanwhile had whittled three fresh sticks, and attached their
knives and drinking cups. Their object was to explore a certain fastness
of the woods which had no road through it, and to reach a mountain-top,
the crags of which had seemed to look with scorn upon them all summer.
Tom was very much vexed that Cassie had heard their desire and shared
it, and he was not disposed to be at all gallant. Stanton, being fond of
his sister, was more concerned lest she should be, as he phrased it,
"fagged out." So for a while their walk was a silent one.
Cassie did not care. She was not one of the pouting sort who shrug their
shoulders and get huffy. She knew she was strong, and she hadn't time to
waste on little humors and moods, and then she had so much to do. There
was her collection of butterflies, her pressed flowers and ferns, her
acorn work and her pine cones, frames to make for her sketches, and,
besides all this, she was crocheting "Tam o' Shanters" for the boys.
Their path first led them through pasture-lands and stubble, over fences
and stone walls. Then they plunged into the thicket, which was dense and
brambly, and very rough every way. And now Stanton's axe became of use.
"For you know we will want to get home again," he said, as he gave a
vigorous cut here and there on each prominent tree, "and this is the way
hunters always do."
As he spoke he struck what appeared to be a decayed trunk, when
instantly out flew a swarm of angry bees. A ringing laugh from his
companions was soon followed by an ominous silence, for all found
themselves surrounded by the disturbed insects. Cassie, thinking
discretion the better part of valor, hurried away with her dress over
her head, but the boys had a hard fight to get off; as it was, both were
stung, and had to apply mud poultices. This did not increase their
good-nature, and the sun was now adding to their discomfort.
Cassie began a little song, but the way was so steep, and the rocks so
precipitous and slippery with pine-needles and moss, that her notes died
away for want of breath. She was getting very tired, when Stanton
complained of hunger, and Tom espied a brook; so they all concluded to
make a halt, and refresh themselves. After the rest and luncheon, with
many a draught of the delicious spring water, on they again toiled; and
now they seemed to have overcome the worst troubles of the way. The
under-growth which had been so dense decreased; broad patches of
huckleberry bushes offered their fruit; velvety mosses and nodding ferns
made the way beautiful; and here and there through the trees came
glimpses of the mountains stretching away in the blue distance. On the
top of the crags which lay before them was an old leafless tree which
had been scathed by lightning. Up this the boys proposed to climb, and
fasten a little flag they had with them; so, hurrying on, they left
Cassie to more slowly overtake them.
The spot was so pretty that Cassie lingered, picking a leaf here and
there, and listening to the soft whisper of the breeze. Suddenly a crash
as of a falling bough arrested her attention; then a cry of alarm,
succeeded by as sudden a silence. Hurrying forward, she found Tom
bending over Stanton, who was lying all in a heap at the foot of the
tree.
"What is it--a fall? Is he dead?" she cried.
Tom turned his white face to her, utterly speechless.
"Get water--quick! But oh, look here!--he is bleeding!--he is cut!"
"Yes, he fell with the axe in his hand. The limb must have been rotten;
it gave way," said Tom at last.
"But he will bleed to death, don't you see? What can we do?"
"What, indeed?" muttered Tom, still with a dazed look in his eyes.
The blood, warm and of a bright red, was gushing from the hand. It
looked as if an artery had been severed. Cassie's heart sank as she saw
Stanton white and immovable, and Tom transfixed with horror. She essayed
to stanch the flow with her handkerchief, but it was useless. How could
she let her darling brother die for want of help? Then a sudden
inspiration came. She had heard of the tourniquet which surgeons use
when amputation is necessary. She made Tom grasp Stanton's wrist, while
she unbuttoned her cambric skirt and tore it into strips; with these she
bandaged the boy's arm, tightening the knot by twisting a stick within
it until there could be no longer any circulation between the hand and
arm. Then she held it up and watched the success of her plan. Tom helped
her as well as he could, but in a benumbed sort of way. He seemed to be
in a dream, and the sight of the blood sickened him.
"Now go for water--quick!--quick!" said Cassie, taking her brother's
head in her lap, and gently fanning him.
Tom obeyed. It seemed an age to Cassie before he returned, but her whole
mind was absorbed in watching the wound. Already it had stopped that
rapid flow, she was sure.
And now there was a change in Stanton's face--a little quiver of the
lips and nostrils, a sigh, a shudder, and--oh, joy!--the boy opened his
eyes and asked, "What is the matter?--where am I?"
"You have hurt yourself, dear. Lie still," whispered Cassie; "please
keep still."
"But what is this? why am I all tied up? I can't use my arm."
"You have fallen, and been cut by the axe," explained Cassie, glad to
have him conscious, but fearful lest any movement should start the
bleeding again. "Do you think you are hurt anywhere else?"
"I don't know. I guess I am only bruised."
Tom now brought the two drinking cups full of water, and after his head
was bathed, Stanton tried to get up and walk. But he was faint from loss
of blood, and stiff and sore.
"It's no use; you'll not be able to go home," said Cassie.
"But what on earth will I do? I can't stay here."
"We'll have to rig up an ambulance," said Tom, now a little more
self-possessed.
"You can not do that," answered Stanton, feebly, glad to again lay his
head in his sister's lap.
"Sha'n't I take you on my back?"
"No; even if you were able to carry him all the long distance, he could
not endure it. See how faint he is," Cassie whispered. "Besides, I am so
afraid the cut may start again. Leave us both here, Tom, and go home as
fast as you can; they will find some method for getting him back."
"And let you be all alone with him perhaps half the night?
Suppose--suppose--" He could not say the words, but his anxious glance
at the pale face and ghastly spots of blood betrayed his fear.
"It can not be helped. I see no other way."
"Aren't you afraid?"
Cassie smiled a little as she said: "Yes, I am. But there's no help for
it."
"Wouldn't you rather go, and have me stay?"
"No, indeed; I could not leave Stanton. Only be as quick as you can, and
tell them not to forget anything. Mother will think of everything,
though, if you don't frighten her. Be sure and break the news gently."
So Tom went off, and Cassie fanned her brother while he slept. Then she
opened her little book and read a page or two of Longfellow. The
afternoon stretched on its weary length; the chirp of crickets and the
hum of insects were all that broke the stillness. Stanton moaned in his
sleep, and the flush of fever succeeded his first pallor.
The dusk came on, and stars began to twinkle. To Cassie's weary vision
the woods became peopled with fantastic forms. She imagined she saw a
snake glide stealthily past, and twist itself in and out the brake. A
spider made her tremble. The hooting of an owl sent cold shivers down
her spine; her limbs were cramped and stiff with sitting so long in one
position; and when the men came with lanterns, blankets, brandy, and the
village doctor, and carried Stanton to the nearest farm-house, Cassie
was glad to throw herself in her mother's arms and have "a good cry."
"That girl's presence of mind saved her brother's life," Tom heard the
doctor say next day; and then remembering his own speech of "girls being
no good anyway," he began to think he had made a mistake. Stanton soon
recovered. The cut, though dangerous, readily healed, and there were no
bones broken.
Cassie did not have her surgical ability again tested, but the boys all
avowed she was "plucky," and showed their appreciation by various gifts
of caramels, popped corn, and green apples.
As for Stanton, he had always loved Cassie, and said she was a sister
worth having.
[Illustration: AN AFTERNOON TEA.]