THE PATH UP THE CLIFF
"In the Village of Harpers Ferry, there stood for many years an old
Inn;—so old that no one knew its age. It was built in the days before
saw-mills were known, when all the lumber was either split out or sawed
out by hand. The weather-stained boards on its rickety sides were
covered with moss from the eaves down to the ground, while the shingles
of the roof were so twisted and warped out of place that they afforded
little or no protection to the dwellers within.
"Travel was light in Harpers Ferry during the time of which I speak, and
the lack of good business, together with his miserly nature, kept the
old Inn-keeper peevish and cross; so much so that he was despised by
everyone about the village.
"He was a wheezy little old man with a wooden leg, the rough oaken stump
of which, with its shafts and mysterious harness, was a source of much
wonder as well as merriment to the children of the neighborhood; while
the little old man himself seemed to be just withering away and drying
up on his feet, instead of growing weak and infirm, as is the usual
course with most things that are old.
"Two bright little orphan grandchildren answered his cross, squeaky
call, and as their father had been dead ever since they were babies, and
their dear mother had died some two years before, they lived with the
cross old man at the Inn, where they received a scolding or whipping
much oftener than they did a good dinner. Never was he heard to speak a
kind word to either of them.
"Through the early part of every spring this old Inn-keeper would suffer
dreadfully from asthma, which is a kind of disease that chokes people
just as if they were strangling all the time. During these bad spells of
smothering he would drive the poor children off into the mountains to
gather wild pennyroyal, which he burned under a funnel and inhaled the
smoke to relieve his wheezing during the night, for without it he could
not sleep. Many indeed were the whippings they had received at the hands
of the cruel old Inn-keeper just because they failed to find enough of
the herb in the mountain to suit his suffering needs.
"The bright sun was warm on this particular spring morning although the
frost had not yet departed from some of the deep mountain glens. The old
Inn-keeper called the two children from their play in the village street
and bade them hasten away over the river to search for pennyroyal. He
did not forget to threaten them with an angry frown before they left, as
he loudly vowed that he expected to spend a bad night with the asthma,
and solemnly declared that, should they return without a goodly supply
of pennyroyal, he would whip them both soundly, deny them their suppers
and make them sleep without covers on the floor of the attic,—a place
that swarmed with both rats and mice.
"With this terrible threat still ringing in their ears, the two children
hastened away toward the river and with much fear in their hearts
started across the long foot-bridge toward the mountains.
"Arthur, the boy, was eleven years old, while his little sister Maud, a
beautiful but shy little thing, had hardly turned nine. They journeyed
along hand in hand and when midway the stream, they looked back just as
the old Inn-keeper entered the Inn, then paused for a moment to glance
over the wide flowing stream and look down into its clear waters for
bass,—which, I might add, was their principal sport on a hot summer day.
"Far up the tide, a fish-hawk sailed silently round and round over the
foamy water, searching the more shallow places with a keen, piercing
eye, and looking no doubt for its dinner. A long-necked blue heron,
awakened by the loud, clattering footsteps and shouting voices of the
two children, arose from beneath a dark tangle of water-elms that grew
near the farther end of the foot-bridge, and, with lazy wings, and
dragging its slim legs over the water as if it were too much trouble to
lift them up under its body, it went on up the edge of the stream and
disappeared from sight along the dark shore. High over all and circling
with mysterious ease, a bald eagle held stately repose in the sky.
"'Come, Maudie,' exclaimed little Arthur at last. 'Let us make haste,
for the journey may be tiresome and long.' And hand in hand they
hastened across the bridge.
"As they came to the edge of the woods they began their search for
pennyroyal. This herb was not plentiful so early in the spring and the
side of the mountain was steep and rough.
"Bright, fancy-formed ferns were growing here and there from beneath the
edge of the big rocks, and johnny-jump-ups were lifting their tiny blue
heads aloft to the fresh morning breeze, wherever an occasional dead
tree allowed the rays of the sun to fall unshadowed upon the rich soil
below. All through the woodland they noticed the poison-oak vine, as it
slowly began its long summer climb up the trunks of the stately oak
trees.
"'Alas!' thought the two children as they journeyed along, 'there is no
pennyroyal.'
"Then looking up with affright at the sound of a familiar voice, they
were greatly surprised, for there stood 'Aunt Twaddles' before them.
"At once the object of their journey was forgotten and they buried their
grief for a time as the kind-hearted old lady drew forth a handful of
her sweet candy, and all three sank upon a green, moss-covered mound for
a rest and a feast and a chat.
"When they were comfortably seated, 'Aunt Twaddles' glanced carefully
about her, and, as she measured the moss-covered mound with one sweep of
the eye, she suddenly exclaimed:
"'Perhaps this mound is the grave of some long dead but great Indian
chief;' and while the two children sat gazing about, she continued: 'But
he can't scalp us now, children! He can't scalp us now!'
"And with a loud, harsh laugh that rang through the woodland, she leaned
her fat back against the trunk of a tall tree that towered ever so high
above them.
"'And where are you going, my dears?' at last she inquired.
"'After pennyroyal for grandfather,' replied little Arthur, and his
words were followed by a deep sigh.
"'Have you found any?' she asked, as her fat face lighted up with a
broad smile that drove all thoughts of sorrow and care from their minds.
"'Not yet, Ma'am!' exclaimed little Maud. 'I don't think it has come up
out of the ground, for we have searched so far very carefully.'
"'Aunt Twaddles' laughed outright. 'Oh yes, it has, dear,' she replied.
'Pennyroyal is the second flavoring herb of the spring-time.'
"And she reached her hand down deep into her herb bag and drew forth
quite a quantity of fresh plucked pennyroyal and laid it before their
envious gaze on the ground.
"'And what is the first flavoring herb, Aunt Twaddles?' inquired little
Arthur, as he glanced up from the pennyroyal.
"'Mint, darling,' she replied with a laugh, and continued: 'On the south
side of the mountain, where the springs moisten and soften the soil, it
lifts its green head out of the earth as soon as the frost leaves the
ground.'
"She lowered her hand to her big pocket as she ceased speaking and drew
from its mighty depth two great, round pop-corn balls, that were
dripping with honey and of the deep crimson color of ripe cherries.
Placing one in the hand of each of the children, she glanced down upon
them with a happy smile, as she exclaimed:
"'There, darlings. These are flavored with mint that I gathered only
yesterday. Taste them and see what you think of the flavor.'
"The two children were delighted with the sweet gift, but though it
pleased them greatly, they could not keep their envious eyes from the
pennyroyal, for they knew that the time thus spent in delay meant a
terrible whipping and a much more-to-be-dreaded night with the rats and
mice in the attic.
"Seeming to notice the troubled look on their little faces, 'Aunt
Twaddles' exclaimed:
"'Now, darlings, I know these mountains as well as you know yonder
streets of the village; and if you will take a short journey with me, I
will gather you enough pennyroyal to last the wheezy, old Inn-keeper for
the rest of his life.' And without waiting for them to reply, she
gathered her big bag of herbs into her arms and arose, as if ready to
start.
"Little Arthur looked up, amazed at her words, while Maud could scarcely
believe her ears, so great was the promise of her dear, old,
kind-hearted friend. Well did they recall the long, sorrowful journeys
they had often made into the mountains in a vain search for the scarce
herb;—journeys that were followed by terrible beatings. The mere thought
of gathering enough pennyroyal to last their cruel old grandfather for
the rest of his life made their little hearts fairly leap with joy."
"'Come, Maudie,' cried Arthur, as he leaped to his feet, 'let us go.'
"In a second the children were standing beside 'Aunt Twaddles' who,
after shouldering her big bag of herbs, led the way.
"They journeyed along down the bank of the river past the end of the
foot-bridge that led from the village, when, pausing at the foot of the
dangerous path on the face of the cliff, 'Aunt Twaddles' rested her
herb-bag on the ground for a moment, and, glancing first at the tall
mountain and then at the children, she exclaimed, with a somewhat
doubtful shake of her head:
"'It's a pretty stiff climb, children! It's a pretty stiff climb! But
come on, let's go up!'
"Had 'Aunt Twaddles' asked the two children to rise like two eagles and
soar high over the tops of the mountains, it would not have seemed to
them more of a task than to walk up the bald face of that cliff; and for
a long time they stood gazing upon 'Aunt Twaddles' as if they thought
she had gone completely out of her head.
"Little Arthur suddenly exclaimed:
"'Why, Aunt Twaddles, we could never go up there.'
"As the children glanced at her face, they noticed a strange look in her
eyes that startled them. Was it the look of an evil one seeking to lure
two innocent children to certain death amid the cruel rocks of the
mountain? Or was it the look of the witch that Old Nimrod, the hunter,
had so often told them about as they sat at his feet by the fire in the
old inn? That look that charmed wildcats and panthers and snakes into
doing her will?
"Without further delay she shouted with a frown.
"'Oh yes, you can, children. You shall go up with me. How often have I
gone up this path with double your weight as a load!'
"And gathering the thick twill of her skirt into a fold, she placed it
tightly within the clasp of Arthur's hands, at the same time saying:
"'Come, Maudie, take hold by the side of your brother and hold fast.'
"And before the two frightened children could realize what they had
done, they were high up on the side of the cliff and did not dare to let
go.
"When they had climbed somewhat higher than the church spire that
towered aloft over the village across the river, a fisherman, going to
raise his nets, beheld them; and raising a shout of alarm, it was not
long before the street in the village was filled with excited people.
Men yelled with hoarse voices, pleading with 'Aunt Twaddles' to come
down, but their voices sounded faintly upon the ears of the children,
who hung dangling from the end of 'Aunt Twaddles'' skirt, high up in the
air.
"The old, one-legged Inn-keeper hastened away, pounding his peg-leg on
the boards of the bridge, in a vain effort to get over to where his
squeaky voice might be heard; but without pausing to heed the tumult
below, 'Aunt Twaddles' continued on up the face of the cliff, constantly
warning the two children to 'Hold fast!'
"Old Jonas, the fisherman, with dripping fish net gathered under his
arms, ran with all his might over the long foot-bridge and down the
opposite bank, where strong men, with pale faces, aided him in
stretching it at the base of the cliff, to catch, as he said, the
lifeless and mangled bodies of the two children in case they should
fall.
"Old Nimrod, the hunter, came tottering out of the bar-room at the inn,
his long trusty rifle in hand, renewing his vow that 'Aunt Twaddles' was
a witch, as he took rest on the rail of the bridge, firmly resolved to
shoot her in case the children should let go. With eagle eye he gazed
along the polished barrel of his gun and covered the sight-sickening
climb with an unfaltering aim.
"Out in the village street, women stood crying and wringing their hands,
while strong men turned white at the sight of the fat woman, swaying and
wabbling from side to side in her effort to get up the face of the
mountain.
"From the loud sound of her puffing and blowing, she seemed almost
exhausted. Now she would stumble and totter as if about to fall, when,
suddenly grasping with desperate hand a stout, scrubby bush, or a ledge
of the broken rock, she would steady herself for a time and by the
merest chance gain a fortunate foothold.
"Even the dogs began howling everywhere throughout the village. Every
house stood wide-open and deserted. Someone entered the old village
church and began slowly tolling the bell, the sound of which seemed to
add a doleful appeal to Heaven for the safety and care of the children.
"Slower and slower, weaker and weaker, yet onward and upward, 'Aunt
Twaddles' toiled on the face of the cliff, when suddenly one loud moan
of horror swept from the parched throats of the multitude as 'Aunt
Twaddles,' by accident, stepped on the end of her long skirt and reeling
from the face of the rock, started to fall. Men turned from the horrible
sight and sank to their knees, while over in the village women fell
helpless into each others arms for support and turned from the sickening
scene.
"The crack of a rifle rang out on the air from the end of the
foot-bridge and a puff of blue dust arose from the face of the cliff
just over 'Aunt Twaddles'' head, where the bullet had shattered the
rock.
"Loud shouted the voice of Old Jonas, the fisherman, 'Stretch the net
tight, men! Stretch the net tight! They are falling!' While strong limbs
steadied themselves and firm hands drew tight on the meshes of stout
twine.
"But Fate favors the brave who have presence of mind. 'Aunt Twaddles'
laid firm hold on the arm of a deep-rooted bush, and, as she drew her
swaying form close to the mountain, the frightened children, swung far
out in mid air, like the pendulum of a clock, and then heavily back
against the cliff. Still they held firmly on to her dress.
"Louder and louder the people now renewed their cries for 'Aunt
Twaddles' to come down; but to attempt to descend in her weary condition
meant certain death to all.
"Onward and upward she continued; and while the people below were
suffering the anguish of suspense, with one last weary reach she laid
firm hold on an overhanging arm of a dogwood tree that hung from above
and, with a deep sigh of relief, drew both herself and the children to
safety on top of the cliff.
"A murmur of joy went up from the dry, hoarse throats of the men at the
base of the mountain, while women sank fainting far across in the
streets of the village. Strong men broke down and wept under the spell
of excitement. Old Nimrod, the hunter, ceased ramming the charge in his
gun, and Jonas, the fisherman, shouldered his fish net; but he trembled
so from excitement that he could not carry it home. The slow, solemn
toll of the church bell turned into one long, loud ring of joy.
"A wild shout from high up in the air echoed and re-echoed over the
broad valley below. Far up on the side of the mountain, the people
beheld 'Aunt Twaddles' wildly waving her sun-bonnet and lifting the
children into plain view. In a moment she lowered them again in the
shade of a tree and then sank for a rest at their side.
"As the children sat gazing about on the beautiful scene below, they
could plainly see the bent form of the old inn-keeper. He was rattling
his peg-leg back over the bridge, and as he hobbled along he was shaking
his head with an air of anxiety, thinking no doubt about the safety of
the children, left to the mercy of a witch on the side of the mountain.
"'Mercy!' exclaimed 'Aunt Twaddles' with a deep, weary sigh, 'we will
take a good rest before we go on, for that was a hard climb.'
"And now while 'Aunt Twaddles' and the two children are resting under
the shade of a tree on the side of the mountain, we will rest for a
moment, and I will thank you for a fresh drink of water before I go on
with my story."
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