The four horses climbed briskly after that and brought the yellow coach
to an old stone gateway. At the end of the Caslon farm the stone wall
had begun, and now it stretched ahead, up over the rise, as far as
anything was to be seen. Indeed, it seemed to melt right into the sky.
Bobbins turned the leaders' noses in at the gateway. Already it was
shown that the new owner had begun to improve the estate. The driveway
was an example of what road-making should be--entirely different from the
hap-hazard work done on the country roads.
There were beautiful pastures on either hand, all fenced in with
wire--"horse high, bull strong, and pig tight," as Bobbins explained,
proudly. There were horses in one pasture and a herd of cows in another.
Beyond, sheep dotted a rocky bit of the hillside, and the thin, sweet
"baa-as" of the lambs came to their ears as the coach rolled on.
The visitors were delighted. Every minute they saw something to exclaim
over. A pair of beautifully spotted coach dogs raced down the drive, and
cavorted about the coach, eagerly welcoming them.
When they finally topped the hill and came out upon the tableland on
which the house and the main buildings of Sunrise Farm stood, they
received a welcome indeed.
There was a big farm bell hung to a creaking arm in the water-tower
beside the old colonial dwelling. The instant the leaders' ears topped
the rise, and while yet the coach was a long way off, several youngsters
swung themselves on the bell-rope, and the alarm reverberated across the
hills and valleys in no uncertain tone.
Beside this, a cannon that was something bigger than a toy, "spoke"
loudly on the front lawn, and a flag was run up the pole set here in a
prominent place before the house. Mr. and Mrs. Steele stood on the broad
veranda, between the main pillars, to receive them, and when the coach
drew up with a flourish, the horde of younger Steeles--Madge's and Bob's
brothers and sisters, whom the big sister called "steel filings"--charged
around from the bell-tower. There were four or five of the younger
children, all seemingly about of an age, and they made as much confusion
as an army.
"Welcome to Sunrise, girls and boys," said Mr. Steele, who was a short,
brisk, chubby man, with an abrupt manner, but with an unmistakably kind
heart, or he would not have sanctioned the descent of this horde of
young folk upon the place. "Welcome to Sunrise! We want you all to have
a good time here. The place is open to you, and all Mother Steele begs
is that you will not break your necks or get into any other serious
trouble."
Mrs. Steele was much taller than her husband; it was positive that Madge
and Bobbins got their height from her side of the family. All the
younger Steele seemed chubby and round like their father.
Everybody seemed so jolly and kind that it was quite surprising to see
how the faces of both Mother and Father Steele, as well as their
children, changed at the long lunch table, half an hour later, when the
name of Caslon, the neighboring farmer, was mentioned.
"What d'ye think they have been telling me at the stables, Pa?" cried
Bobbins, when there was a lull in the conversation so that he could be
heard from his end of the table to his father's seat.
"I can't say. What?" responded Mr. Steele.
"About those Caslons. What do you suppose they're going to do now?"
"Ha!" exclaimed the gentleman, his face darkening. "Nothing you have
heard could surprise me."
"I bet this does," chuckled Bob. "They are going to take a whole raft of
fresh air kids to board. What do you know about that? Little ragamuffins
from some school, or asylum, or hospital, or something. Won't they make
a mess all over this hill?"
"Ha! he's done that to spite me," exclaimed Mr. Steele. "But I'll post
my line next to his, and if those young ones trespass, I'll see what my
lawyer in Darrowtown can do about it."
"It shows what kind of people those Caslons are," said Mrs. Steele, with
a sigh. "Of course, they know such a crowd of children will be very
annoying to the neighbors."
"And we're the only neighbors," added Bob.
"Seems to me," said Madge, slowly, "that I have heard the Caslons always
_do_ take a bunch of fresh air children in the summer."
"Oh, I fancy he is doing it this year just to spite us," said her
father, shortly. "But I'll show him----"
He became gloomy, and a cloud seemed to fall upon the whole table for
the remainder of the meal. It was evident that nothing the neighboring
farmer could do would be looked upon with favorable eyes by the Steeles.
Ruth did not comment upon the situation, as some of the other girls did
out of hearing of their hosts. It _did_ seem too bad that the Steeles
should drag this trouble with a neighbor into the public eye so much.
The girl of the Red Mill could not help but remember the jovial looking
old farmer and his placid wife, and she felt sure they were not people
who would deliberately annoy their neighbors. Yet, the Steeles had taken
such a dislike to the Caslons it was evident they could see no good in
the old farmer and his wife.
The Steeles had come directly from the city and had brought most of
their servants with them from their city home. They had hired very few
local men, even on the farm. Therefore they were not at all in touch
with their neighbors, or with any of the "natives."
Mr. Steele was a city man, through and through. He had not even lived in
the country when he was a boy. His own children knew much more about
out-of-doors than he, or his wife.
The host was a very successful business man, had made money of late
years, and wished to spend some of his gains now in laying out the
finest "gentleman's farm" in that quarter of the State. To be balked
right at the start by what he called "a cowhide-booted old Rube" was a
cross that Mr. Steele could not bear with composure.
The young folks, naturally (save Ruth), were not much interested in the
controversy between their hosts and the neighboring farmer. There was
too much fun going on for both girls and boys to think of much beside.
That afternoon they overran the house and stables, numbered the sheep,
watched the tiny pigs and their mothers in the clover-lot, were
delighted with the colts that ran with their mothers in the paddock,
played with the calves, and got acquainted in general with the livestock
of Sunrise Farm.
"Only we haven't goats," said Bobbins. "I've been trying to get father
to buy some Angoras. Old Caslon has the best stock anywhere around, and
father says he won't try to buy of _him_. I'd like to send off for a
good big billy-goat and turn him into Caslon's back pasture. I bet
there'd be a fight, for Caslon's got a billy that'll chase you just as
soon as he'd wink."
"We'd better keep out of _that_ pasture, then," laughed one of the
girls.
"Oh, father's forbidden us trespassing on Caslon's land. We'd like to
catch him on _our_ side of the line, that's all!"
"Who--Mr. Caslon, or the billy?" asked Tom, chuckling.
"Either one," said Bob, shaking his head threateningly.
Everyone was in bed early that night, for all were tired; but the boys
had a whispered colloquy before they went to sleep in their own big room
at the top of the house, and Bob tied a cord to his big toe and weighted
the other end so that it would drop out of the window and hang just
about head-high above the grass.
The first stableman up about the place ran over from the barns and gave
Master Bob's cord a yank, according to instructions, and pretty nearly
hauled that ingenious chap out of bed before the eastern sky was even
streaked with light.
"Gee! have we got to get up now?" demanded Busy Izzy, aroused, as were
the other boys, by Bobbins dancing about the floor and rubbing his toe.
"Somebody has been foolin' you--it's nowheres near morning."
"Bet a dog jumped up and bit that string you hung out of the window,"
chuckled Tom Cameron.
He looked at his watch and saw that it really was after four o'clock.
"Come on, then!" Tom added, rolling Ralph Tingley out of bed. "We must
do as we said, and surprise the girls."
"Sh!" commanded Bobbins. "No noise. We want to slide out easy."
With much muffled giggling and wrestling, they dressed and made their
way downstairs. The maids were just astir.
The boys had something particular to do, and they went to work at it
very promptly, under Tom Cameron's leadership. Behind one of the farther
barns was a sharp, but smooth slope, well sodded, which descended to the
line of the farm that adjoined Mr. Caslon's. There, at the bottom, the
land sloped up again to the stone wall that divided the two estates.
It was a fine place for a slide in winter, somebody had said; but Tom's
quick wit suggested that it would be a good place for a slide in summer,
too! And the boys had laid their plans for this early morning job
accordingly.
Before breakfast they had built a dozen barrel-stave toboggans--each long
enough to hold two persons, if it was so desired.
Tom and Bobbins tried them first and showed the crowd how fine a slide
it really was down the long, grassy bank. The most timid girl in the
crowd finally was convinced that it was safe, and for several hours, the
shrieks of delight and laughter from that hillside proved that a sport
out of season was all the better appreciated because it was novel.
Over the broad stone wall was the pasture in which Caslon kept his flock
of goats. Beautiful, long-haired creatures they were, but the solemn old
leader of the flock stamped his feet at the curious girls and boys who
looked over the wall, and shook his horns.
Somewhere, along by the boundary of the two estates, Bob said there was
a spring, and Ruth and Helen slipped off by themselves to find it. A
wild bit of brush pasture soon hid them from the view of their friends,
and as they went over a small ridge and down into the deeper valley, the
laughter and shouting of those at the slide gradually died away behind
them.
The girls had to cross the stone wall to get at the spring, and they did
not remember that in doing so they were "out of bounds." Bob had said
nothing about the spring being on the Caslon side of the boundary.
Once beside the brook, Helen must needs explore farther. There were
lovely trees and flowering bushes, and wild strawberries in a small
meadow that lured the two girls on. They were a long way from the stone
fence when, of a sudden, a crashing in the bushes behind them brought
both Ruth and Helen to their feet.
"My! what's that?" demanded Helen.
"Sounds like some animal."
Ruth's remark was not finished.
"The goat! it's the old billy!" sang out Helen, and turned to run as the
horned head of the bewhiskered leader of the Angora herd came suddenly
into view.