MOLLIE FOLLOWS THE TRAIL
"Mollie have you seen my red sweater?" called Grace a few days later. "I
can't find it anywhere; yet I am sure I left it out here on this bench
last night. Naki and Ceally haven't seen it. Horrid thing! It has taken
wings and flown away just when I wanted it. Do come with us. Ruth, Bab
and I are going over into the forest to try to learn to shoot. Naki is to
teach us."
"Does Miss Sallie know?" asked Mollie, who was not in a good humor. Bab
had been lecturing her for her sudden dislike of Reginald Latham. It
seemed to Mistress Barbara unreasonable that Mollie had taken such an
unaccountable prejudice against a young man whom they had barely met.
"You talk, Mollie, as if he were a villain in a play," Bab protested.
Mollie knew she had been obstinate. All she had answered was: "Well, he
would probably be a villain, if he had the opportunity. I hope I shan't
see him again. I don't see, Bab, why you should be so interested in him.
He's lots older than you are."
"I am not interested in him," Bab retorted indignantly. And the two
sisters had separated.
"Of course, Miss Sallie knows we are going to practise shooting?"
mimicked Grace. "What is the matter with Miss Mollie Thurston this
morning? Don't you know Mr. Stuart sent us a rifle. He told us learning
to shoot might prove a useful part of our education. _Do_ come on with us
Mollie."
"No, thank you," Mollie declared. "I hate the noise of a gun. Oh, I am
not afraid, Grace Carter, so you needn't tease; but I prefer more
ladylike amusements. I am going for a walk."
"Don't go too far by yourself, Mollie," pleaded Grace, who didn't mind
Mollie's tantrums. "You don't know your way about these hills, yet, and
it isn't safe to wander any distance. How I wish I could find my coat."
"Here, take Aunt Sallie's," cried Ruth, appearing suddenly in the
doorway. "It is not such a charming color as your scarlet one, and it may
be a trifle large, but it will keep you warm. Coming, child?" she asked
Mollie.
Mollie shook her head. Without waiting for Bab to join them she started
on her walk. The child wanted to be alone. Besides being in a bad humor
she had several things to think about. She certainly would not tell Bab
and the other girls, just to be laughed at; but again that morning she
had heard a light noise outside their window. It didn't sound like an
animal. Mollie wrinkled her pretty forehead, and a puzzled expression
crept into her blue eyes. How absurd even to dream of a thief, here on
their beautiful hillside far away from the rest of the world. And, she, a
great girl of fourteen, knew better than to believe in ghosts.
Mollie slipped down the path and crossed the gully that divided the
nearer hill from the higher one back of it. Already her bad humor was
disappearing. She had no idea of going far from their cabin; another day
she might persuade the girls to explore this mysterious hill, with its
lost Indian trail; but she should not attempt it alone. This morning she
wanted only to creep away for an hour or so into the woodland quiet.
Mollie Thurston had a curious passion for the woods. When she was alone
in them she would stand still a long time, calling to the birds, and she
delighted in having them steal near and shyly listen to the sweet sounds
she made in return for theirs. No one knew of this accomplishment of
Mollie's, not even Bab.
Up the steep hillside Mollie clambered. Below her she could hear the pop,
pop, pop, of a rifle. The girls were evidently taking their lesson in
target practice from Naki.
"I suppose I am fairly safe up here," Mollie chuckled, "but I wouldn't
care to be too near those shooting experts. I know they will hit
everything near them except their target."
She sat down on the root of an old tree that jutted out from an
overhanging bank, and drew a sheet of paper from her pocket. She would
write to her mother of their rescue of an airship. Mollie bit the end of
her pencil--she was not in a writing mood. Why had she taken such a
dislike to Reginald Latham? He had been polite enough, and was rather
good-looking. It was Bab's habit to feel prejudices, not hers. She
wouldn't say anything to her mother about him, but certainly Bab seemed
to like him unusually well.
Crack! Crack! The sound came from the bushes! She looked quickly around.
It must have been a gust of wind that stirred. In another minute there
tumbled over her head a shower of leaves and acorns, that for an instant
blinded her. But she could hear plainly this time; light feet were
running along the bank above the ravine where she sat.
Without pausing a moment she jumped to her feet and ran up the path that
led from the bottom of the ravine to the hilltop. Nothing was in sight;
but further on through a thicket of trees, she caught the distant sound
of flying footsteps. She could see the underbrush move, as though shaken
by something in passing.
A shivering sense of mystery possessed the girl. Could it be the ghost?
Without stopping to think Mollie flew in pursuit; determined to discover
what had disturbed her. Once she saw a bright object flash ahead of her,
brown and scarlet, through the trees. It was gone in an instant. Surely
it was but a shadow from the autumn leaves.
For some distance Mollie had been following what seemed to be a pathway
through a tangled thicket of bushes and trees. Suddenly she stopped. So
far as she could see the path ended abruptly. Yet, at this very moment,
she heard a faint hallo!
It was the voice of temptation to Mollie, and she let her curiosity get
the better of her. Without in the least knowing where she was going she
pushed on. Ducking her head through an opening in one place, turning and
twisting wherever she found it possible to make her way, the child came
at last into a thick forest. On every side of her stretched endless
avenues of trees. Now no sound of flying feet urged her on; no voice
called her.
Poor Mollie was entirely alone.
"What an utter goose I am!" she declared out loud. "I don't believe I
ever heard anyone, or saw anything. It was just my imagination that led
me on. Now, I hope," Mollie gave a rueful smile and sat down to pull the
brambles out of her dress, "I hope my imagination will kindly show me the
way home again!"
Which way should she go? There were half a dozen different directions
open to her. Which was the right one?
"I wonder," thought Mollie, "if, somehow, I have struck the famous 'Lost
Man's Trail?' It is a lost girl's trail all right!"
She turned this way, then that. In front of her between the sumach and
the holly trees was an open space, which might lead somewhere toward
home. Mollie pushed her way through. There were trees, trees, trees! No
path was visible between them.
For half a mile Mollie walked on blindly, feeling sure that, at any
minute, she would catch a glimpse of their familiar hillside. A sense of
sinking warned her that luncheon time had passed. High overhead she could
see by the sun that noon had passed.
Several times she called aloud. But Naki had warned her. This hill was
entirely deserted. No one ever walked or rode over it.
"I don't wonder," the little girl thought, with a lump in her throat. "No
one except myself would be such a goose as to try to find her way about
up here, or be silly enough to go on a ghost hunt."
She called again. "Hello! hello! I am lost! Is anyone near?" There was no
answer. Once Mollie thought she heard a strange sound, half-wild,
half-human, and called more loudly. This time there was no reply.
After several hours of walking, Mollie found her way out of the woods. As
she came again to an open hilltop she thought she could see the smoke
curling out of the chimney of their little, brown cabin, but far and
near, there was no familiar object. She had followed the wrong trail, and
was in an entirely different part of the country. There was nothing to do
but to return to the woods.
Wearily she walked back. "I am sure the girls must be looking for me,"
she said, trying to revive her courage. "When I wasn't home in time for
lunch Bab would know I was lost."
On and on, Mollie wandered. Finally, toward dusk, she found herself again
in the heart of the forest where she had lost her way in the morning. She
was so tired, there was nothing to do but to sit down and rest, but she
had not given up. Of course, she would find her way out of this labyrinth
of trees somehow. However, just for the time, she must wait.
Mollie sank down on a pile of leaves that had been blown in a heap under
the shelter of a great cedar tree. It was growing cold, and the September
day was closing. All morning and afternoon the little girl had wandered
alone in the woods. How many miles she had traveled she did not know.
The child shivered, as she dropped on the ground. Tired as she was, she
had plenty of courage left. Not a tear had been shed in these miles of
weary tramping; indeed she had often laughed at her own mistakes, though
the laughter had sometimes been close to tears; but Mollie knew that she
must not lose her head.
"Suppose, I do have to stay in the woods all night?" she reflected. "It
wouldn't kill me. I have wanted to have adventures in a forest; here is
my opportunity. I wish, though, I knew how to make a fire; I'm so cold
and hungry; but I haven't a sign of a match, so there is no use of
thinking about it."
If Mollie could but have kept awake a little longer! No sooner had she
dropped on the soft leaves than fatigue overcame her, and she was fast
asleep.
Suddenly a figure came out of the underbrush--a strange young figure all
brown and scarlet. It moved so softly that scarcely a leaf trembled. For
a minute it paused and gazed down on the sleeping child. The little girl
stirred in her sleep. With a bound the wood sprite vanished. It need not
have hurried; Mollie was too utterly weary to awaken soon.
What had happened at the log cabin, meantime?
All morning Ruth, Bab and Grace had been practising under the instruction
of Naki. Bab was growing into a clever shot, and Ruth was playing her a
close second, when the luncheon gong sounded. The girls had given no
further thought to Mollie, supposing she had grown tired of her walk, and
was at home with Miss Sallie. The latter naturally was not worried, as
she thought Mollie was with Naki and the others.
When the girls filed into the living room for their lunch Bab asked
carelessly: "Where's Mollie?"
"Where's Mollie?" repeated Miss Sallie. "Hasn't she been shooting with
you? Perhaps she is somewhere near. Here is Ceally; I will ask her."
At this moment Ceally entered with a great bowl of vegetable soup that
looked most inviting to the hungry girls.
"I haven't seen Miss Mollie all morning," she explained. "Not since she
started for a walk up that hill over 'yond'."
Barbara, Grace and Ruth stared at each other with white, frightened
faces. They remembered Mollie had gone off for a walk early that morning;
but she had promised not to go far up the hill.
"Call Naki, at once," said Miss Stuart hurriedly. "He will probably know
where Mollie is."
"No, auntie." Ruth shook her head. "Naki doesn't know. He has been
teaching us to shoot all the forenoon."
Bab jumped up from the table. "Please, Miss Sallie," she cried hastily,
"may Naki and I go out to look for Mollie? I am afraid she is lost on the
hill."
"Sit down, Bab," quietly said Miss Sallie, in the voice the girls
recognized as final. "You and the other girls must each eat a plate of
this soup. You are not to start out to look for Mollie when you are tired
and hungry. Ceally, see that Naki has some food at once, and bring the
coffee to me."
Barbara was almost crying. "Oh, Miss Sallie," she pleaded, "I can't eat.
Don't make me wait. I must go at once."
"Eat your soup, Barbara," was Miss Sallie's reply.
Poor Bab obediently choked it down, while Ruth and Grace followed her
example. Then they each drank a cup of coffee.
It was Miss Sallie who ate nothing. She was more frightened than the
girls; for the woods were more terrible to her than to the young people.
Then, Mollie was the youngest of the party, and Miss Stuart felt she was
less able to look after herself. Besides, Ceally had hinted strange tales
of the haunted mountain back of them. At the time, Miss Sallie had
refused to listen; it had seemed utter nonsense, that tale of a ghost
which haunted a lost Indian trail. Now, the idea came to Miss Stuart,
that perhaps the ghost on the mountain was some criminal, a fugitive from
justice, who made his home on the deserted hill.
It was Bab who led the way up to the top of the ravine. But there she
stopped and waited for Naki and the girls to join her.
Looking for lost people in the woods was an old business with the guide.
He did not take the fact of disobedient Mollie's disappearance any too
seriously. Once up the hill, he blew on a great horn which he carried.
Once, twice, thrice! There was no response. He blew again, then waited.
Evidently the young lady was out of earshot.
Then Naki made a mistake. Instead of going into the woods, where Mollie
had pursued her will-o'-the-wisp, he turned in the opposite direction. It
did not dawn on him that she had been led astray by a forgotten Indian
trail.
"You must keep close to me, young ladies," Naki insisted. "None of ye
know your way about up here. If we should separate, I should soon be
searching for the whole lot of ye, instead of just one."
All afternoon they searched and searched for the lost one, yet all in
vain.
If Mollie shed no tears while she was lost, Barbara shed plenty in the
effort to find her. Poor Grace and Ruth tried vainly to comfort her.
"If only we hadn't quarreled this morning over that horrid Reginald
Latham!" Bab sobbed, running on ahead of the others. "I told Mollie she
was foolish to say she hated anyone whom she did not know. Yet I do it
all the time myself."
"Oh, do cheer up, Bab," said Grace, choking back her own tears. "You
didn't quarrel with Mollie. I never saw two sisters who fussed so little.
I know we shall find her soon."
"There's nothing up here can harm your sister, Miss," Naki explained to
frightened Bab. "The country around here is perfectly peaceful."
At dusk Naki and his searching party returned alone to the top of the
ravine from whence they had started. Looking down, they could see their
log cabin, where Miss Sallie and Ceally stood at the open door. There was
no sign of Mollie.
"It is harder work than I expected to find the young lady," Naki
apologized to Ruth. "I am sorry, but you had better go back to your aunt.
I must go down to the farm for help. It will take a number of people to
make a thorough search of this place to-night. The underbrush is so thick
that it is hard work traveling about."
"Oh, I can't go home without Mollie!" sobbed Bab. "I am not a bit afraid
to stay up here alone. Leave me, Ruth, you and Grace. I'll just sit at
the top of this ravine and call and call! Then, if Mollie comes anywhere
near me, she will hear. You and Grace go and have supper with Miss
Sallie. You can bring me something to eat afterwards, if you like."
Barbara smiled feebly.
Ruth and Grace both turned on her indignantly. It was a relief to pretend
to be offended. "Oh, yes, Bab, we are both delighted to go down and
comfortably eat our supper! It is so pleasant to think of your sitting up
here alone, like a stone image, and poor little Mollie lost--goodness
knows where!"
Ruth kissed Bab for comfort. Then she turned to Grace. "Grace," she
asked, "will you be a perfect dear? I know Naki is right; he must get
some one to help him search for Mollie, and one of us must go to Aunt
Sallie, who is terribly worried. See! she has already seen us, and is
waving her hand. But if you will go tell her what has happened, I shall
stay up here with Bab, and Ceally can bring us some dinner. You can come
back afterwards. By that time Naki will have returned with assistance and
we can go on with our search again."
"I hate to leave you," Grace protested, "but I will go."
"Wait for me," Naki cautioned. Both girls nodded. They were too tired to
speak.