For a second or two Westy was thoroughly alarmed, but soon felt
reassured when his eyes fell upon the crystal-like water gurgling
against the pearly stones.
“The little rascal, he’s gone straight up the brook to Lola’s to get
away from me!”
With that knowledge under way he hurried back to the cabin to make
himself look more presentable in the presence of ladies.
He was tying a little string tie, trying to knot it at just the right
angle. In a cracked mirror that was just half its original size, he
valiantly tried to accomplish the feat. He could see his face all right
without standing on his toes and that notwithstanding his height. Of
course, the cracks in the mirror gave him a most grotesque appearance.
He really shivered as he viewed his own countenance. It looked so
painfully distorted and his nose was cracked in three places. When he
stood on his toes to see if he had tied the knot, all that appeared to
his struggling vision was his Adam’s apple moving furiously with
suppressed rage. So he gave it up and started out without caring another
hang about appearances.
It was around ten o’clock when he struck off the main trail for Lola’s
and it occurred to him that perhaps Rip wouldn’t like it, running him
down in such a fashion. Rip was funny that way; Westy didn’t know
exactly how to take him, but he knew this much--that a good deal of the
younger boy’s skepticism was put on. But still he liked him in spite of
that. He wanted the whole world to think he was something he wasn’t.
“That’s nothing,” Westy said aloud, “there are plenty like that lying
around loose in the world, and he’s just a boy yet. He’ll get over it--I
hope. I bet he would go up there some time just to show me he was real
brave and all the time he would be afraid himself. Lots of heroes have
been made of that kind of stuff, too.
“I’ll whistle again when I get near the place so he won’t think I’m
sneaking up on him. Maybe he’ll have told Lola he’s sore and don’t want
to see me and beat it down the brook, when he hears me. I won’t let on
anything about it if she asks me. I got a good excuse for going there,
anyway; Mr. Wilde told me to.”
He came to a queer-shaped pine tree that was now familiar in marking the
last few hundred feet before coming to the Redmond clearing. He started
to whistle and slowed down his gait.
Presently Lola came to the opening and waved to him gayly. He returned
the greeting and smiled inwardly to think that Rip was doing the very
thing that he expected he would do, and there she was smiling just as
though she knew nothing about it. She wanted to be loyal to both of
them, Westy mused, and that was the right thing to do.
“’Lo, Westy,” she said, beaming. “It’s nice to see you this early. Now
what could have brought you, I wonder?”
Just like a woman, Westy thought. Giving herself dead away.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Westy answered indifferently. “Mr. Wilde told me to
run over and keep you folks company.”
“Isn’t that just like him! Do you know, Westy, my grandmother and I are
going to miss you all very much when you leave here.” She looked away
wistfully: “I’d like to see what other cities look like!”
“Have you ever been away from here, Lola?” Westy asked.
“Only to Santa Fe three times; just on short visits. Father took me
before he went to France, but I have never been any further. I’ve seen
pictures of cities much bigger than Santa Fe; still I was terribly
thrilled when I went there!”
Westy was touched and longed to ask her why they didn’t leave their
isolated home, but he just couldn’t trespass upon her private affairs.
“You must forgive me, though, talking about myself,” she continued, “but
grandmother and I feel freer to talk with you all. We have never spoken
so to any one before. Most people aren’t interested in the petty
troubles of a mountaineer. You can’t blame them, really!”
“Not at all! Why shouldn’t we be interested in other people’s troubles?
A scout should be--particularly!”
“Isn’t that fine! Tell me more about them, Westy?”
Westy thought that herein was his chance to be real helpful in their
poverty and was thinking how to go about the delicate topic when Mrs.
Redmond came out into the garden and smilingly nodded to him.
“Where’s Rip this morning?” she asked.
Westy looked at Lola and her face was a blank as far as he could see.
Then she turned to him in an apologetic manner.
“I never asked, did I? I really meant to ask you where he was when you
came along. He isn’t ill, is he?”
Her expression was so manifestly one of concern that Westy lost his
poise for a moment as the memory of Rip’s threat flitted through his
mind.
“Why, hasn’t he been here at _all_ this morning?” He couldn’t seem to
make himself believe it.
“No,” Lola said. “We haven’t seen him at all. Where do you think he is?”
“I wish I was sure--but then he wouldn’t if he did go up there----”
“You mean all his talk of yesterday, don’t you? I wouldn’t worry about
that a bit, Westy. He wouldn’t dare go in after all I told him. He’s
just a little peeved because you didn’t urge him. Go on up--you’ll find
him ready to make up, I guess!”
Westy started on a dog trot and as he disappeared through the trees he
called back to her excitedly: “If he did go in anyway, do you think he’d
have any chance----”
She couldn’t hear the rest he said for his words were lost in the
distance.