OFF ON SNOWSHOES
Mr. Gordon encouraged the English girl at this point in her story by
assuring her that he would, before returning to Canada, put the matter in
the hands of his lawyers and have the search for the elder Ida Bellethorne
conducted in a more businesslike way.
"How did you expect to find your aunt," he asked, "when you first landed
in New York?"
"I knew of a musical journal published there which I believed kept track
of people who sang. I went to that office. The last they knew of my aunt
she was booked to sing at a concert in Washington," Ida said sadly. "The
date was the very day I called at the office. I hurried to buy a ticket to
Washington. But the distance was so great that when my train got into
Washington the concert was over and I could do nothing more until the next
day."
"And then?" asked Uncle Dick.
"She had gone again. All the company had gone and I could find nobody who
knew anything about her. I--I didn't have much money left," confessed the
girl. "And things do cost so much here in your country. I was frightened.
I walked about to find a cheap lodging and reached that street in
Georgetown where Mrs. Staples has her shop."
"I see," commented Uncle Dick.
"So I asked Mrs. Staples. She was English too, and she offered me lodgings
and a chance to serve in her shop. I took it. What else could I do?"
"You are a plucky girl, I must say. Don't you think so. Betty?" said Uncle
Dick.
"I think she is quite wonderful!" cried his niece. "And think of her
making those blouses so beautifully! You know, Ida, Bobby bought the blue
one of Mrs. Staples."
"I am glad, if you like them," said the other girl, blushing faintly. "I
had hard work to persuade Mrs. Staples to pay for that one on the chance
of your coming back for it."
"Well," interposed Uncle Dick, "tell us the rest. You thought you heard of
your Aunt Ida up here, in the mountains?"
"Yes, Mr. Gordon," said Ida. "I read it in the paper. But the notice must
have referred to my dear little mare. I never dreamed she had been sent
over here. I never dreamed of it!"
"No?"
"Of course I didn't! And when I got to Cliffdale there was nobody who had
ever heard of my aunt. There are two hotels. One of them is closed at
this time of year. At the other there was no such guest."
"Dear me! How disappointed you must have felt," murmured Betty.
"You can't imagine! But in talking with the clerk at the hotel I got news
of my little darling."
"Meaning the mare, of course?" suggested Uncle Dick.
"Yes. She had arrived the night before and had been taken directly to
Candace Farm. The clerk told me how to get there. I did not feel that I
could afford to hire anybody to take me there. And I knew nobody. So I set
out to walk day before yesterday morning."
"Before it began to snow?" asked Betty.
"Yes, Miss Gordon."
"Oh, please," cried Betty, "call me Betty. I'm not old enough to be Miss
Gordon. To a girl, anyway," she added. "With a strange boy it would be
different."
The English girl consented, and then went on with her story.
"It was cloudy but I did not know anything about such storms as you have
here. Oh, dear me, how it snowed and blew! I got to that little house and
I could open the door. If I had had to go many yards farther I would have
fallen down and been covered by the snow."
"You poor dear!" murmured Betty, putting an arm around the other girl.
Ida gave her a tearful smile, and Betty kissed her. And then the latter
suddenly remembered again her lost locket. She gave a little jump in her
chair. But she did not speak of it.
Not for a moment did she believe Ida Bellethorne would be guilty of
stealing her trinket. Uncle Dick evidently did not think of that
possibility, either. Could Betty suggest such a matter when already Ida
was in so much trouble? At least, she would wait and see what came of it.
So she hugged Ida more closely and said:
"Go on. What else?"
"Not much else, Betty," said the English girl, wiping her eyes again and
smiling. "I just stayed there in that house until you came along and saved
me. There was nothing to burn but the furniture in the house, and I burned
it. I suppose the poor man who owns it will want to be paid. Oh, dear!"
"I wouldn't worry about that," said Mr. Gordon, cheerfully. "You seem to
have come through a good deal. I'd take it easy now. Mrs. Canary and the
girls are glad to have you here. When we go back to town we will take you
with us and see what can be done."
"Thank you, Mr. Gordon. You are very kind. I should like to know about my
little mare. She is a darling! How this Mr. Bolter came to get her----"
"Oh, Ida!" cried Betty, breaking in suddenly, "do you know a little man, a
crooked little man, named Hunchie Slattery?"
"My goodness, Betty! Of course I remember Hunchie. He worked in our
stables."
"He is with Ida Bellethorne, your pretty mare. He takes care of her. I
talked with him at Mr. Bolter's farm in Virginia. The mare has a cough,
and she was sent up here to get well. And I heard Mr. Bolter himself tell
Hunchie Slattery that he was to go with her."
"Dear me, Betty! if I could find Hunchie, too, I'd feel better. He might
be able to tell me how it came that my mare was taken away and sold. She
really did belong to me, Mr. Gordon. Mr. Jackwood, father's administrator
and my guardian, showed me the bill of sale making me Ida's owner. And
even if I was a minor, wouldn't that be a legal transfer paper?"
"I am not sure of the English law, my dear. But it seems to me it would be
in this country. At any rate, that will be another thing to consult my
lawyers about. I understand Bolter paid somewhere near twenty thousand
dollars for the mare. It would be quite a fortune for you, Ida."
"Indeed it would. And the mare is worth all of four thousand pounds, I
know. Father always said there was no better mare in all England than Ida
Bellethorne, and Aunt Ida might be proud to have such a horse named after
her."
"We are not far from the Candace Farm and perhaps we can get over there
before we leave Mountain Camp," Mr. Gordon said kindly. "Then you can see
your horse and the man from home. I will get a statement from this jockey,
or hostler, or whatever he is, and it may aid my lawyers in their search
for the facts regarding the sale of the mare to Mr. Bolter."
"Thank you very kindly, Mr. Gordon."
The conference broke up and Betty ran out to join her mates on the lake.
Ida could not skate. And, anyway, she preferred to sit indoors with Mrs.
Canary. Ida had the silk for another sweater in her bag, and that very
hour she began to knit an over-blouse for Libbie, who had expressed a
desire to possess one like those Betty and Bobby had bought.
The skating was fine, but the wind had risen again and this time it was a
warm wind. The snow grew soft on the surface, and when the party came up
the bluff for luncheon it was not easy to walk and they sank deeply into
the snow.
"This is a weather breeder," said Mr. Canary, standing on the porch to
greet them. "I fear you young folks have come to Mountain Camp at the
beginning of the roughest part of the winter."
"Don't apologize for your weather, Jack," laughed Uncle Dick. "If it grows
too boisterous or unpleasant outside, these young people must find their
fun indoors."
And this is what they did for the next two days. The temperature moderated
a good deal, and then it rained. Not a hard downpour, but a drifting
"Scotch mist" that settled the snowdrifts and finally left them saturated
with water.
Then back came the frost--sharp, snappy and robust. The air cleared like
magic. The sun shone out of a perfectly clear sky. Just to put one's head
out of the door make the blood tingle.
Meanwhile both the girls and boys had found plenty of interesting things
to do indoors, as Uncle Dick had prophesied. Especially the boys. Under
the teaching of Uncle Dick and Mr. Canary they had learned to string
snowshoes. Mr. Canary had the frames and the thongs of which the webs are
woven. Even Timothy neglected the library to engage in this fascinating
work.
Of course, the girls must have webs as well. Betty and Bobby were
particularly eager to learn to walk on snowshoes and, as Bob Henderson
said, they "pestered" the boys until sufficient pairs of webs were made to
enable the entire party to try walking on them when the time was ripe.
On the third morning, just at dawn, there was a heavy snow squall for an
hour. It left about four inches of downy snow upon the hard-packed and
slippery surface of the drifts.
"This is an ideal condition," said Mr. Gordon with enthusiasm. "My feet
itch to be off on the webs myself. After breakfast we will try them out.
Now remember the rules I have been telling you, and see how well you can
all learn to shuffle over this snow."
Thoughtful Bob had strung an extra pair of shoes for Ida. He knew that
Betty did not want the English girl left out of their good times. And all
the crowd liked Ida. Although she was in the main a very quiet girl, as
one grew to know her she proved to possess charming qualities both of mind
and heart.
Ida was not as warmly dressed for venturing into the open as the other
girls. But Mrs. Canary, one of the kindest souls in the world, mended this
defect. She furnished Ida with a fur coat and gloves that secured her from
frostbite.
The whole party turned out gaily. Having been confined to the house for
almost forty-eight hours, they were as full of life as colts. But in a few
minutes the nine of them were on snowshoes and watched and instructed by
Uncle Dick were learning their first lesson in the rather ticklish art of
scuffling over the soft snow without tripping and plunging headlong into
it.
Not that there were not many laughable accidents. The capers both boys
and girls involuntarily cut led to shouts of laughter, and sometimes to a
little pain. For the frozen crust underneath the light surface snow
offered a rather hard foundation when one fell flat.
The necessary falls incident to learning the right trick of handling one's
self on snowshoes soon cured the first enthusiasm of several of the party.
Louise, for instance, found it too strenuous for her liking. And Timothy
got a bump on the back of his head that no phrenologist could have easily
described.
The second day, however, Betty, Bobby and Ida, with Bob and Tommy Tucker,
were just as enthusiastic on the subject of snowshoeing as at first. While
the others swept off a part of the lake just below the Outlook, the
snowshoeing party set off on their first real hike through the woods; and
that hike led to an unexpected adventure.