leaving her cream cheese and coming to see for herself. "Why, where
can it be? I certainly put it just here, opposite the window, but not
so near that it need have fallen out. But we'll go round and look."
And out all three went, going round to the back of the dairy, and
hunting among the stones and bushes there.
"No, it is not here," said Fannie; "and I didn't see how it could have
fallen out without hands to help it. Oh!" as her quick eye, trained to
notice the smallest sign, or change which took place in this mountain
country, saw where the moss upon the grey rocks had been torn off as
though some one had slid over it. "Oh, some one _has_ been here. Oh,
Flossy did not bark for nothing. Some one has been here behind the
rocks, and when my back was turned, has climbed over, and snatched the
cup. What shall I do?"
And Fanny turned first red, then white, fearing that she might be
blamed for the loss of the cup; then scrambled upon the rocks to see
if she could find any trace of the thief. Two figures were in sight;
the one that of a man with a pack on his back, who was trudging along
the road between the mountain and the lake, going as if he were in a
hurry too; the other that of a boy who was climbing up the steep and
rugged path which led to the "Chief's Head."
Fanny took little notice of the former, though he was the nearer of
the two; but shading her eyes with her hand, gazed up the mountain
side after the boy.
"It's Lem Owen," she exclaimed in an excited tone. "I might have known
it. He has taken it. There's nobody else hereabouts who would do such
a thing."
Distressed at the loss of her beloved cup, startled at the thought
that Lem had been so near them, and still more frightened by Fanny's
excitement, Bessie burst into a loud passionate cry.
"Oh! make him give it back," she said. "It's mine; it's my very own
cup that Aunt Bessie gave me. I _will_ have it; the bad, bad boy. Oh!
make him give it back, Fanny."
Maggie threw her arms about her, and she, too, burst into tears.
"Come, we'll send some one after him," said Fanny, springing down from
the rocks and forgetting her open dairy; leaving butter, cream cheese,
all, just as it stood, she seized a hand of each frightened child, and
they ran towards the house as fast as Bessie's small feet could go.
Mrs. Bradford was not a little startled when they rushed in upon her,
all three excited and out of breath; and Bessie sprang into her arms
with another outbreak of cries and exclamations.
As soon as they discovered the cause of the trouble, Mr. Bradford,
Mr. Stanton, and Mr. Porter's oldest son started for the "Chief's
Head" to see if they could find the supposed thief and recover the
lost cup.
[Illustration]
VIII.
_A KIND WORD FOR LEM._
The path up the mountain could be plainly seen from below for nearly
half its length; then it was often hidden by many a sharp turn and
corner, or the trees and bushes which bordered it on either side. As
John Porter and the two gentlemen stood at its foot and gazed upward,
they could see nothing of Lem; and they went on cautiously, looking
from side to side lest he should be hiding among some one of the many
nooks and crannies of the rocks. But they did not find him till they
reached the very crown of the "Chief's Head," where they came upon
him lying full length upon his back beneath the shade of a pine-tree,
eating an apple.
They had mounted so quietly that not even his quick ear had heard them
till they were close upon him, and he caught sight of John Porter
turning a corner of the rock. Then he sprang to his feet, and, with a
guilty but fierce look, darted around so as to bring the pine-trees
between him and his pursuers.
But there was no chance of escape on this bare, high point of the
mountain. To throw himself down, or go rushing and scrambling over
the rocks and every thing else that lay in his way, as he would have
done in another place, would not do here, where a false step or a slip
would carry him to certain death; and, in a moment, John Porter had
his hand upon his collar, and giving him a rough shake, ordered him to
give up the cup.
"What cup? I aint got no cup," answered Lem.
"None of that; give it up now," said John, and plunging his hand
several times into Lem's pockets, he brought out, no silver cup, but
half a dozen large bough apples.
"My own Osborn apples!" exclaimed John, quite forgetting the cup at
this sight. "I'd know them anywhere. The rascal must have stripped the
tree, and it is the first year it has borne. I set so much store by
them! I'll fix you for this," and John gave his prisoner two or three
hard cuffs.
"Stop, John," said Mr. Bradford, "that is not the way to deal with
him;" and speaking gently but firmly to Lem, he told him that if he
would tell where the cup was to be found he should not be punished so
severely as if he still continued to keep it concealed.
But the boy still declared he knew nothing of any cup; and, after
hunting in vain for it among all the clefts of the "Chief's Head,"
they had to give up the search. There were a thousand places on the
way up where he might have hidden it, and it was useless to look
without some clew.
So, having picked up his beloved apples, John Porter led his prisoner
down the mountain, followed by Mr. Bradford and Mr. Stanton. They
had nearly reached the end of the path, when Dolly suddenly appeared
upon it. She was about to start aside, and either run or hide herself,
after her usual fashion, when her eye fell upon Lem in John Porter's
grasp. Now Dolly had heard nothing of the cup, but she knew that Lem
had meant to rob John Porter's tree of its tempting fruit, and she
was on her way to meet him at the "Chief's Head," according to his
bidding, and have a share of the ill-gotten prize. When she saw him,
she supposed that John had taken him prisoner for stealing his apples;
and Lem had too often before been in such trouble for her to think it
a very serious matter. She did not look for any thing worse, as the
consequence of this wickedness, than a whipping, or perhaps that he
should be shut up for a few hours; and, although she scowled angrily
at her brother's captors, she said nothing to them or to him, but
turned and followed at a little distance.
When they reached the house, Mrs. Bradford came out, and begged her
husband and brother not to be too hasty in making up their minds that
Lem had stolen the cup. For, when they had started to go after the
boy, it was supposed that Fanny had seen him take it, but it appeared
she had not.
Fanny, though kind and good-natured, was not a very wise young woman;
and when she had rushed into the house in such an excited manner, she
said that she had put the cup on the shelf of the little window, that
Lem had come over the rocks at the back of the dairy, put his hand in
at the window, snatched out the cup, and run up the mountain with it.
Now Fanny fully believed that Lem had done all this; but she did not
_know_ that he had, for she had not seen him. Wicked boy though she
knew him to be, she would not have willingly accused him of that of
which he was not guilty; but she had spoken as if she knew it to be
so, and the two gentlemen, thinking there was no time to lose if the
cup was to be recovered, had at once set out after the supposed thief.
But when Maggie and Bessie had been quieted and questioned, their
answers showed that no one of the three had seen the cup go; but when
they missed it, they had gone out to look for it behind the dairy.
Then Fanny, noticing the traces on the rocks, and next seeing Lem
climbing the mountain-path, had at once concluded that the bad boy
must be the thief.
Next it came out there was another person who might have made his way
to the back of the dairy and stolen the cup, and this was the man with
the pack on his back, whom they had all three seen going down the lake
road. This proved to have been a pedler, who had been up to the house,
and whom Mrs. Porter, who never suffered such people about, and who
did not like the man's looks, had warned off the place.
Still, every one believed that Lem had been the thief. The boy
stoutly and fiercely denied it; and Dolly, when she heard of what
he was accused, went into a violent rage, crying and screaming, and
threatening, if he was not allowed to go, all manner of revenge,
especially against the children, whom she seemed to think were chiefly
to blame for this. Mrs. Bradford and the other ladies tried to comfort
the poor, desolate child; but she would suffer no one to come near
her, cursing and striking about her in a way which made every one fear
to approach her. Mrs. Porter carried her some dinner, but she threw it
in the kind old lady's face, and then ran off as fast as she could.
Mr. Porter sent Bob and one of his older brothers to search once more
for the lost cup, and John Porter went down to the village to see if
he could find any trace of the pedler.
Meanwhile Mr. Porter said he should shut Lem up until the next
morning: a punishment which he deserved for the theft of the apples,
which he could not deny, since they had been found upon him, and the
tree was entirely stripped.
"Maybe it was that which frightened him, and made him look so guilty
when you came upon him," said Mr. Porter; "I am sure, bad and
troublesome as he is, I hope it may be so."
"I wasn't scared, neither," said Lem, sullenly; "takin' a few apples
aint no great; but I knowed for sure they was after me for some harm.
Nobody ever comes after Dol and me for no good."
Though this was said in a sulky, defiant way, there was something
in the speech which went straight to Bessie's tender little heart.
Perhaps it also touched more than one grown person there, and made
them wish, more earnestly than before, that they might do something
for these two poor, neglected children.
But Mr. Porter was no hard jailer. Lem was taken to a little disused
tool-house, where he was locked up, and one of the hired men put on
guard outside, so that he might do no mischief; Mr. Porter having
first provided him with a good meal, if he chose to eat it.
"Maggie," said Bessie to her sister that afternoon, "did you hear what
Lem said when Mr. Porter spoke about his being frightened when papa
and Uncle Ruthven found him?"
"Yes," said Maggie, "and it made me very sorry for him, and that thing
came into my throat that comes when you want to cry, and you're afraid
some one will ask what you are crying about."
"I wonder if we could not do something to show him we would like to be
kind to him," said Bessie.
"But he is shut up," said Maggie.
"Yes; but you know that there is a pile of logs by the window of that
little house, and we could get up on it and speak to him, and let him
know we would like to come near him to do him good. We'll go and tell
him we will ask Mr. Porter to let him out if he will promise not to
steal any more."
"Yes," said Maggie, "Mr. Porter said he would do any thing for me for
my birthday that I asked him, if it was reasonable; and I s'pose he
wouldn't mind doing it a little before, and I think this is pretty
reasonable, don't you, Bessie?"
"Yes, and that's a very nice idea of you, Maggie," said Bessie; and
this being agreed upon, they went off together.
The pile of logs which lay at the side of the tool-house was not
hard to climb, and they had more than once played upon it with their
brothers, and now they mounted upon it, and put their two little
faces close to the wooden bars which crossed the small window. It was
growing late, and the tool-house was rather dark, but they could just
see the boy's figure as he sat all in a heap upon the floor. As the
little light which came through the bars was partly darkened by the
two small faces, he started up, saying roughly, "Clear out now!"
At this, Maggie ducked, fearing she scarcely knew what; but Bessie,
though she also was rather frightened, held her ground, and said,
gently,--
"We want to speak to you, Lem."
"None of your speaking. Be off with you, will you?" said the boy,
looking around for something he might throw at the window.
But there was nothing on which he could lay his hands. Mr. Porter had
taken care to carry off every thing which could possibly be turned to
mischief.
"But we are going to do you a favor," said Bessie.
"I want none of your favors; let me alone now," answered Lem.
"But we are going to do it to you whether you think you want it or
not," said Bessie; "'cause you _will_ be glad of it. We are going to
ask Mr. Porter to let you out. Will you promise not to steal any more,
Lem?"
"I didn't touch your cup," said Lem.
"Well, maybe you did not," said Bessie; "I'd rather think you did not.
I'd rather think it was the pedler-man."
"Much you'd care who took it, if you once got it back," said the boy,
sulkily.
"But I would care, and so would Maggie," said Bessie. "I'd
rather--yes--I think I would--I'd rather be sure you hadn't taken it
and never find it, than to find it and know you did steal it. Yes, I
would, Lem, and I do love my cup very much."
"Oh! come now," said Lem, "you aint goin' to make me say I took it by
any of that cant. Are you goin' or not?" and he came closer to the
window, with a threatening look.
"We'll go in a minute," said Bessie. "This is my Maggie," and she put
her arm about the neck of her sister, who had summoned up courage
to peep in at the window again. "Pretty soon she is going to have a
birthday, and Mr. Porter said he would do any thing she asked him for,
and so she is going to ask him to do it for her now, and to let you
out. Will you be glad of that, Lem?"
"You aint a goin' to make me say I took your old cup," persisted Lem,
with some very bad words; and, too much shocked to talk to him any
more, the little girls slipped down from the logs and ran away.
But shocked and frightened though they were, they did not forget their
kind purpose; and a couple of hours later, Mr. Porter unlocked the
door of the tool-house. His son John stood by, a lantern in his hand.
"I am going to let you out," said Mr. Porter to Lem; "not that you
deserve it, if it was only on account of the apples, and I did mean
to keep you here till to-morrow night at least; but those dear little
girls that you've plagued so, have begged you off, and I couldn't
refuse them. So just you bear that in mind, my lad, and let them alone
for the time to come, or you won't find me so easy when next you fall
into my hands. Here," and Mr. Porter put a package of food into the
boy's hands, "take this, and be off with you. My son will see you safe
home; for it's an awful dark night, and you might break your neck on
the rocks without a light."
Had Lem done as he wished, he would have rushed off without waiting
for company or light; but it was a terribly dark night, not a star
was to be seen, for the whole sky was covered with the black clouds
which told that a storm was coming, and he knew well enough that he
could never find his way home over those dangerous rocks, without the
light of the lantern. John Porter, though a good-natured man, was not
at all pleased that his father had let Lem off so easily. The loss
of the first of his much-prized Osborn apples, while they were yet
half-ripe, had vexed him sorely, and he would have liked that Lem
should have been severely punished for that theft, even had he not, in
common with the rest of the household, believed that he had stolen the
silver cup.
So, although he had agreed to his father's wish that he should see the
boy safely over the most dangerous part of his way home, he did it
with no good-will, and trudged along in silence, turning over in his
mind whether or no he could resolve to let Lem go without giving him
a good thrashing. But he had been in the kitchen that evening, when
Maggie and Bessie had gone to the porch to speak to his father for
Lem, and he had heard all that had passed; and now, as he remembered
how sweetly and generously the two dear little girls had pleaded for
the boy who had treated them so badly, he could not resolve to give
him even a part of the punishment he so richly deserved.
"The little dears mightn't like it if they knew it," he said to
himself, "and I wouldn't like to be outdone in forgiveness by two
babies such as they are, so I'll keep my hands off him, though it does
go against the grain to do it."
Perhaps Lem guessed something of what was passing in John Porter's
mind, for he took good care to keep beyond the reach of his powerful
arm until they reached the miserable hovel which served him for a home.
"Well," said John, raising his lantern so as to throw its light within
the crazy door, "this is a pleasant kind of a place to pass such a
night as this is like to be. I'm thinking you'd have done better in
our old tool-house, my lad. Where's t'other one?" meaning Dol.
"Dunno, and don't care," answered Lem.
"Off on some new mischief, I'll be bound," said John. "Well,
good-night to you, if you can pass a good night here," and he walked
away, in haste to be home before the storm should break.
Dol was, alas! in some new mischief,--mischief such as John did
not dream of; or, although the gust swept through the forest and
over the lake, and the rain poured heavily down just as he set his
foot upon the threshold, he had not gone so quietly to his mother's
sitting-room, and read the paper aloud to her, as she knitted away on
his next winter's stockings.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
IX.
_DOL'S REVENGE._
LEM had told John Porter he did not know and did not care where Dol
was on that dark night; but he had not told the truth when he said he
did not care. He _did_ care, for she was the only thing he loved in
all the wide world, and had he known where to look, he would certainly
have gone in search of her. But, reckless as he was, he knew that a
blind hunt over the mountain on such a stormy night would be worse
than useless; and he could do nothing but wait patiently as he might
till the morning came.
The storm raged all night: the rain poured down in a driving flood;
the lightning flashed; the thunder pealed without rest, echoing from
one to another of the mountain-peaks in a long, heavy roll; and the
wind blew in furious gusts, shaking even Mr. Porter's comfortable,
well-built house, and seeming as if it would lay flat the miserable
walls of Lem's poor house, so that the boy was afraid to stay within,
and sheltered himself as well as he could beside the rock.
He was troubled about his sister. In all their freaks, in all their
wicked doings, they generally kept together, and stood by one another,
and he had expected to find her in the hovel when he returned to it
that evening. He knew well enough that no one would care to take her
in for the night; for, if they did so, they were sure to suffer for it
before she left the place which had given her shelter. He waited till
an hour or so after daybreak, when the storm was dying away, and was
just setting out to look for her, when he saw her coming wearily up
the little wood-path.
Accustomed as he was to her miserable appearance, even Lem was struck
by the wretched plight she was in. The water was dripping from her
uncombed, tangled hair and poor rags; her face was pale, and her bare
arms and knees were cut and bleeding; and, although the morning was
clearing up close and warm, she shivered and drew herself together as
if she were suffering from cold. But the wan, haggard face lighted up
for a moment when she saw her brother, and she exclaimed,--
"Oh! Lem, did you cheat 'em, and break out?"
"No," said Lem, "he le'me out; and Dol, I say, it was all along of
those two little gals. They said they'd beg me off, and the old man
said they did, and I aint goin' to trick 'em no more. Where was you
last night?"
"In the Ice Glen," answered Dolly.
Lem gave a long, astonished whistle.
"You aint goin' to say you slept in the Ice Glen?"
"I didn't do no sleepin', but I was there all night, after I come away
from Porter's. But I fixed 'em down there fust," she added with a
malicious grin.
"But how came you into the Ice Glen; didn't you know better?" asked
Lem.
In answer, she told him how she had been hanging about Mr. Porter's
grounds till long after dark, when the storm broke, and she had lost
her way; and, after one or two bad falls, had found herself in the
Ice Glen; that, knowing the danger in the darkness of a fall over the
rocks or into the lake, she had remained there all night, fearing to
move till there was sufficient daylight to show her the way home.
"And what was you doin' to keep you down to Porter's so long?" asked
Lem.
The reply to this question, instead of being received with praise and
exclamations of triumph as she had expected, was met by a curse; and
poor Dol shrank down in fear of a blow; for, though Lem was not often
angry with her, when he was, she was used to feeling the weight of his
hand. But he did not strike her now, but turned sullenly from her, and
began trampling down the wet grass with his bare feet.
"What's come over you, now?" she asked at last.
"Nothin'. 'Taint no odds," he answered.
"Aint you glad I fixed 'em off so?"
"No: 'twant fair after they begged me off."
"They got you shut up first, sayin' you took the cup when you didn't."
"How do you know I didn't?"
"'Cause I know who did."
"Did you?"
"No, but I know who did; and what's more, I know where it is now," she
answered.
"Tell me then."
But Dolly turned sulky in her turn, and refused to say a word more;
and Lem, knowing it was useless to try to make her speak when she
did not choose, strolled into the woods to see if he could find any
berries for his breakfast; while she, still shivering from her night's
exposure in the Ice Glen, tried to kindle a fire from the wet sticks
which lay around; and finding this in vain, crept to her wretched bed,
and tried to warm herself there.
But it is time to tell what was the new piece of mischief by which
Dolly had thus brought punishment upon herself.
Two little pairs of feet danced through the hall, and out upon the
piazza of the Lake House that morning.
"Oh, what a nice, pleasant day after the rain!" said Bessie. "The
birdies are singing so to tell us how they like it."
"And it is so nice and cool after all the heat," said Maggie. "See!
see! papa, how the rain-drops are hanging on the leaves, and how the
sun shines in them and makes them sparkle. But what a lot of leaves
are lying about over the grass! and there is a branch broken and
hanging down."
"There is another lying by the well," said Bessie, "and those large
bushes are all leaning over. Did the rain do that, papa?"
"The wind did it," said papa. "The storm was very severe last night,
and I fear it may have done some harm to the farm and garden."
"Not to our gardens, I hope," said Maggie. "They looked so nicely
yesterday, and Cousin Alexander is coming up to-day to see them; and
if the storm did hurt them, we won't have time to fix them up again
before he comes."
"If my garden was mussed up a little bit, I shouldn't mind it so very
much, if only my dear heliotrope is not hurt," said Bessie.
"And my geranium," said Maggie. "We would be too disappointed if any
thing happened to those two. Papa, do you know when Cousin Ernest was
here the other day, he said not one of the children had such a fine
heliotrope or geranium, and he thought they were sure to take prizes?
and besides, he said our gardens were so neatly kept it was a pleasure
to look at them."
"Yes," said papa: "you have been very industrious and persevering, and
deserve much praise. Here comes Mr. Porter."
"What a terrible night it has been," said Mrs. Bradford, coming out
at that moment. "I could not sleep for the noise of the thunder and
the wind. I wonder what those two forlorn children have done: that
wretched hut could be but poor protection on such a night."
"Better than they deserve," growled Mr. Porter, in a tone very
unusual with him, coming up the piazza steps as Mrs. Bradford spoke.
"Good-morning, madam. A bad night's work this. I've just been round
with the boys to see what damage has been done."
"Not much I hope," said Mrs. Bradford.
"Well, not so much from the storm," said Mr. Porter. "The corn is
beaten down a little, but it will rise again in a day or two, and some
branches here and there stripped off; but there's been worse than the
wind and rain abroad last night. Mr. Bradford, I'll speak with you a
minute, sir."
Mr. Bradford walked aside with the old man, who said to him in a low
voice,--