LOST ON MOUNT GABRIEL
A full month of school life had passed at Glenwood. The beautiful
autumn had come to tint the leafy New England hills, when Mrs. Pangborn
announced that her classes might go on a little picnic to the top of
Mount Gabriel. The day chosen proved to be of the ideal Indian summer
variety, and when the crowd of happy students skipped away through the
woods that led to the mount, there seemed nothing to be wished for.
Miss Crane had been sent in charge, and as Edna said, that meant just
one more girl to make sport.
As usual Viola did not join the merry-makers. She had the continuous
excuse of her mother's illness, which had really been a matter of great
worry to her, as Mrs. Pangborn, if no other at the school, knew to be
true.
"It's as warm as August," declared Nita Brant, scaling a darling little
baby maple and robbing it of its most cherished pink leaves.
"Oh, Nita," sighed Tavia, "couldn't you take some other tree? That
poor little thing never wore a pink dress before in all its young life!"
"Too young to wear pink," declared the gay Nita, affecting the
brilliant leaves herself. "I just love baby leaves," and she planted
the wreath on her fair brow.
This started the wreath brigade, which soon terminated in every one of
the picnickers being adorned with a crown of autumn foliage.
At the foot of the mountain the girls made an effort to procure
mountain sticks, but this was not an easy matter, and much time was
taken up in the search for appropriate staffs. Those strong enough
were invariably too hard to break, and those that could be procured
were always too "splintery." But the matter was finally disposed of,
and the procession started up the mountain.
It was growing late in the afternoon, the pilgrimage not having been
taken up until after the morning session, and when the top of the
mountain was finally reached, Miss Crane told her charges that they
might scurry about and get such specimen of leaves or stones as they
wished to bring back, as they would only remain there a short time.
The air was very heavy by this time, and the distant roll of thunder
could be heard, but the gay girls never dreamed of a storm on that late
October afternoon as they ran wildly about gathering bits of every
procurable thing from moss to crystal rocks. Tavia wanted
Jacks-in-the-pulpit, and sought diligently for them, getting away from
all but Dorothy in her anxiety to find her home flower. She dearly
loved Jacks--they grew just against the Dale wall in dear old Dalton,
and she wanted to send one flower home to little Johnnie. It would be
crushed in a letter of course, but she would put some dainty little
ferns beside it and they would keep the lazy look. Then she could tell
Johnnie all about the mountain top--send him some bright red maple
leaves, and some yellow ones.
"Oh, Dorothy!" she exclaimed. "I see some almost-purple leaves," and
down the side of a ledge she slipped. "Come on! The footing is
perfectly safe."
Dorothy saw that the place was apparently safe, and she made her way
eagerly after Tavia. Dorothy, too, wanted to send specimens home from
Mount Gabriel, so she, too, must try to get the prettiest ones that
grew there.
The roll of thunder was now heard by the pair but it was not heeded.
Bit by bit they made their way along the newly-discovered slope; step
by step they went farther away from their companions.
Suddenly a flash of lightning shot down a tree! The next minute there
was a downpour of rain, like the dashing of a cloud burst.
"Oh!" screamed Dorothy. "What shall we do?"
[Illustration: "OH! WHAT SHALL WE DO?" CRIED DOROTHY--_Page 155.]
"Get under the cliff!" ordered Tavia. "Quick! Before the next flash!"
Grasping wildly at stumps and brush, as they made their way down the
now gloomy slope, the two frightened girls managed to get under some
protection--where trees, overhanging the rocks, formed a sort of roof
to a very narrow strip of ground.
"Oh! What shall we do?" cried Dorothy again. "We can never make our
way back to the others."
"But we must," declared Tavia. "I'm sure we cannot stay here long.
Isn't it a dreadful storm?"
Flash upon flash, and roar upon roar tumbled over the mountain with
that strange rumble peculiar to hills and hollows. Then the rain--
It seemed as if the storm came to the mountain first and lost half the
drops before getting farther down. It did pour with a vengeance.
Several times Tavia ventured to poke her head out to make weather
observations, but each time she was driven unceremoniously back into
shelter.
"It must be late!" sighed Dorothy.
"That it must!" agreed her companion, "and we have got to get out of
here soon. Rain or no rain, we can't stay here all night. The thunder
and lightning is not so bad now. Come on! Let's go!"
Timidly the two girls crept out. But the rain had washed their path
away and they could barely take a step where so short a time before
they seemed to walk in safety.
"Don't give up!" Tavia urged Dorothy. "We must get to the top."
But the stones would slide away and the young trees, loosed by the
heavy rain, would pull up at the roots.
"Try this way," suggested Tavia, taking another line from that which
the girls knew ran to the mountain top.
This proved to be safer in footing at least. The rocks did not fall
with such force, and the trees were stronger to hold on to.
But where was that path taking them? Both girls shouted continually,
hoping to make the others hear, but no welcome answer came back to them.
Then they realized the truth. They were lost!
Night was coming, and such a night!
On a mountain top, in a thunder storm, with darkness falling!
The girls never knew just what they did in that awful hour, but it
seemed afterwards that a whole lifetime had been lost with them in that
storm. So far from every one on earth! Not even a bird to break that
dreadful black solitude!
And the others?
The storm, violent as it was, did not deter them from searching for
Dorothy and Tavia. Miss Crane had shouted her throat powerless, and
the others had not been less active. But by the strange circumstances
that always lead the lost from their seekers, both parties had followed
different directions, and at last, as night came on, Miss Crane was
obliged to lead her weeping charges down Mount Gabriel and leave the
two lost ones behind.