THE BOAT-RIDE.
A few evenings after the meeting at Gretta's, Uncle Fred came in, and,
pulling Winnie's ears according to his custom, said:
"I think it's my turn to treat, Winnifred; at least Kitty says it is.
She and I were out boating yesterday, and she suggests that I take you
and the other Joans for a row Friday evening."
"Oh, Uncle Fred," cried Winnie, "that will be grand! I'll tell the girls
about it to-morrow. Who all are to be invited?"
"'You-all,' as our Southern friends say, and your Aunt Kitty; us seven,
and no more, as the poet expresses it."
The girls accepted with eagerness. But on Thursday Ernestine did not
come to school. Winnie went around Friday noon to learn the reason of
such an unusual occurrence, and found that Mrs. Alroy was sick in bed,
and although she had protested against her daughter's staying at home,
Ernestine could not be prevailed upon to leave her.
The other girls were, of course, very sorry not to have her go, but
soon forgot their disappointment in the excitement of anticipation. At a
quarter past six, the hour agreed upon, Fannie was ringing Mrs. Burton's
door bell, while Gretta and Miriam were just entering the gate. Winnie
and her uncle and aunt were quite ready, so they all started out. After
a short ride in the "Green Line," they were transferred to the Covington
and Newport cars on their way to the river. None of the girls had been
in that neighborhood often enough to be familiar with it, and everything
they saw had the interest of novelty for them. When they reached the
bridge, Mr. Fred helped them out of the car and they went on down the
bank of the river. They stood there for awhile watching the many boats,
large and small, the people going and coming, none of whom seemed to be
in the same hurry as those farther up in the city, and most of whom were
men sauntering leisurely along with their hands in their pockets.
Mr. Fred, who had left the girls for a few minutes, now came back, and,
on his giving the command, they followed him to a pretty little dock
where there were several row-boats. In one of these the five girls were
soon seated, Winnie in the bow, Gretta and Fannie in the stern, while
Miriam and Miss Kitty--who could both row--sat together where each could
handle an oar, declaring that they meant to help provide some of the
power. Uncle Fred took his place in the seat of "the crack oarsman," as
he said, the smiling boatman on the wharf pushed them off, and soon
they found themselves afloat. Fannie held the rudder and handled it
very skillfully, although Mr. Fred kept a sharp lookout himself, for
the river at this point was full of craft of all descriptions, from the
large steamboats whose journey continues through the beautiful Ohio down
through "The Father of Waters;" the ferry boats crossing between Ohio
and Kentucky; little steam launches and row-boats, just starting out for
pleasure; and fishing-boats returning laden from the day's work.
At first Miss Kitty and Miriam splashed about a little, but soon they
became accustomed to each other and pulled such a steady, even
stroke that Mr. Fred was obliged to stop laughing at them, and even
acknowledged that they were helping to make the boat go.
All along the shores of the river were numbers of shanty boats, and as
they approached the mouth of the Licking they saw more of these. Winnie,
especially, was much interested in them, and enjoyed her seat in the
bow as giving a good opportunity to catch a glimpse of some of their
inmates--little boys with bare feet, girls with bright-colored dresses,
many barking dogs, and an occasional cat, all of whom, in her eyes, were
invested with a peculiar fascination.
But soon they entered the mouth of the Licking, and, gradually leaving
all these sights and sounds behind them, passed into an enchanted
country, the domain of Nature herself. Miss Kitty started up softly,
"My country, 'tis of thee," and the girls joined in, Miriam's contralto
adding richness to the voices as they rose and fell on the still air.
Miss Kitty and Miriam had already drawn their oars up into the boat, and
Mr. Fred let his trail idly in the water as he listened.
When they had finished the last stanza, Winnie said, "Aunt Kitty, won't
you and Uncle Fred sing 'Juanita' for us? The moon is just rising behind
those trees, and this is the very time for that duet."
"What a romantic little thing it is!" said Fred, teasingly; but he
joined his sister in the pretty duet, which has been sung on the water
so many times as almost to be considered a boating song. After this they
took to their oars again, and, pulling hard against the stream, advanced
silently but rapidly.
Presently Mr. Fred, with a strong pull on his left oar, turned the boat,
in spite of Fannie's hold on the rudder, and it shot suddenly in toward
the right bank, where was a little beach in a sheltered cove under an
immense willow tree. Here Mr. Fred jumped out, and, after making the
boat fast to the tree, assisted the other members of the party to
disembark.
"Follow me!" he commanded, starting up the bank, which here sloped
gradually to the water's edge.
The little company soon reached the top of the bank. The moon, nearly
full, had just risen, and by its light, struggling with that of the
dying day, they saw a little path leading up the green hillside. Along
this they went, single file, wondering where Mr. Fred and Miss Kitty
were taking them, when suddenly they were startled by the bark of a
dog, and in a second a great mastiff jumped up almost to Mr. Fred's
shoulders, and nearly knocked him down by the force of the spring.
Winnie was struck dumb with fear, and the other girls screamed, but Mr.
Fred said, in a tone which quite reassured them:
"Down, down, Jasper! Don't let your joy make you forget your manners."
Jasper wagged his tail as if to say, "All right, sir," and trotted along
the path, with Mr. Fred's hand on his head.
The path wound about through the trees, and when they reached the top
of the hill they saw a large white house, and coming towards them a tall
young man, who called out cheerily:
"We've been looking for you for the last half hour. Come right along.
Nellie and Rob can hardly contain themselves, they have been so afraid
you wouldn't come."
He led the way around the house, and soon had ushered the new-comers
into a large, square parlor with long windows opening on a broad
veranda.
"Nellie, Rob," he said, "here are the 'Warrior Maidens,' of whom you
have heard so much."
The two children, Nellie about fourteen, and Rob a few years younger,
bowed bashfully, and then looked appealingly at their elder brother, as
they sat down on the two chairs farthest removed from those occupied by
their guests. The moon was now above the tree tops, and shone into the
room brightly through the long windows.
[Illustration: They passed unto an enchanted country.--See page 75.]
"A glorious night for a game of hide-and-seek," said the older brother
suggestively, in answer to an unspoken appeal of the younger ones.
"And this would be a grand place for it," said Miss Kitty. "I used
to think a game of I-spy on a moonlight night the finest thing in the
world. Suppose we try it now?"
"Yes! yes!" they all exclaimed; and, headed by their young hosts, rushed
out of doors, and for half an hour made the hills echo with their shouts
of merriment.
Such places as there were in which to hide!--a dark corner in the
grape arbor, a nook in the vine-covered summer-house, a deep-shadowed
projection from the stable or house or veranda: such chances to "make
home" around the house, which stood in the center of the yard! Miss
Kitty generally came in first, but once, after long searching, she
was found in the hollow of a tree into which she had crawled, and from
which, being caught in her own trap, she had to be pulled out by the
united efforts of her brother and niece.
Then Miss Kitty declared that it was high time they should start for
home. But when they went into the house to get their wraps, they found
the smiling mother of their hosts waiting for them with a great bowl of
strawberries, picked, she said, just before the sun went down, and which
they must really try. It was not a difficult task to persuade the guests
to do this, and after they had all done full justice to the berries and
the accompanying cake and rich, sweet milk, they set forth to embark for
home, escorted to the river by the entire family of their new friends.
The row home was enjoyed even more, if that were possible, than the one
thither. The moon was now high in the sky, and hill and tree and rock
and dimpling wave were beautified by its enchanting glamour.
They all felt either too tired, or too happy, or both perhaps, to talk,
and the trip was made almost in silence, although Miss Kitty stopped
rowing once, and quoted softly:
"And the cares that infest the day,
Shall fold their tents like the Arab,
And as silently steal away."