WHAT MAX FOUND
Gwen was very angry. Max had taken her on the long tramp, and now had
become impatient because she was tired, and had left her to choose
between immediately following him, or lagging behind.
It was almost twilight, but Gwen was forced to rest for a few moments,
at least, before taking another step.
"P'r'aps I can run, and catch up with Max, if I sit here and rest a
while," she said.
Max, careless boy that he was, walked straight ahead, not even turning
to look back, to learn if Gwen were following.
Gwen watched his sturdy little figure as it stood out against the sky,
and envied him because he seemed not the least bit weary, while Max,
sure that she was watching, took extra long steps to show what a
vigorous fellow he was.
When he had reached the top of the hill, he would have been glad to
rest, but he wished to prove that he was tireless, so he at once
commenced to make his way across the level plain upon which he found
himself, and then to descend the rugged hillside.
Sometimes a twig snapped overhead, and then he would next be surprised
by stepping upon what proved to be a rolling stone, that would slip
from under his foot, and go rattling on ahead of him.
The long walk down the far side of the hill was less cheerful than the
upward climb had been, and while he would not for the world have
admitted it, he missed Gwen, and her constant chatter.
He was beginning to feel tired, and he would have been glad to sit
down and rest, but lest Gwen should be on her way to overtake him, and
laugh at him for resting, he kept on.
Once he looked over his shoulder hoping to see that she was now
following, but she was not in sight, and again he pushed forward. Not
a bit cared he if Gwen were afraid.
"If she'd kept up with me, she needn't have been afraid. Nothing would
scare her if I---- Oh--oo--oo!"
With a frightened yell, he tripped over what appeared to be a long
bundle, which, however, proved to be the legs of a sleeping tramp.
"Ye little varmint! Walkin' all over a man! I'd serve ye right if I
tied yer arms an' legs tergether, and pitched yer down inter the
valley beyant there!" howled the angry man, as he turned over for
another nap.
Max, believing that the man was chasing him, raced down the steep
hillside, stumbling over roots, and twigs that lay in his way, sliding
on rolling stones, and catching at low hanging branches to save
himself, he at last, from weariness, stumbled, and fell sprawling over
a stump that the darkness had hidden.
It happened that Gwen, becoming a bit timid because of the shadows of
twilight, had risen stiffly from her seat on a low rock, and was
hastening after Max, when she heard the boy's shout, and then the
angry words of the tramp, and quickly as she had come, she ran back
to her perch upon the rock.
[Illustration: "Now, indeed, she was afraid."]
Now, indeed, she was afraid. Alone on a wooded hilltop! Would she have
to stay there all night? Would some one come for her? How would they
know where she was?
She tried to think that Max, on reaching the house would tell of her
plight, and urge someone to come for her, but she knew that Max was a
coward, and that he never liked to tell anything that might cause
others to blame him.
Meanwhile the tramp slept soundly. No thought of the frightened boy
troubled his dreams, and of the little girl who had drawn back into
the shadow of the trees, he knew nothing.
* * * * *
At the big yellow house on the Cliff, there was great excitement.
Mrs. Harcourt was so nearly frantic that the best efforts of her
friends failed to comfort her.
Earlier in the day she had gaily laughed at Gwen's absence at the noon
meal, and if she was at all disturbed because of her sailing trip in
the leaky cement tub, she did not show it.
But that twilight should be hanging over the sea, and night fast
approaching, and Gwen out of sight for the second time was really
enough to frighten any woman, even if she were far less nervous than
Mrs. Harcourt.
A searching party was formed, not one of whom had the slightest idea
where to look, when, just as the men were about to start out, a small
boy appeared in the driveway; a boy who seemed to wish to be
unnoticed.
"Hello! I say, Max! You usually know where the little Harcourt girl
is. Do you know now?" said a little man on the outside of the group.
"Le'me go!" snarled Max, "I want some supper," and he tried to squirm
out of the firm grasp of the little man's hand.
"Not till you've answered," said a tall, athletic fellow.
"Come now, little chap, speak up!" Mrs. Deland, faultless dressed now
appeared.
"Oh, it is really absurd to think my little son has the least idea
where----"
"It may be, Madam," the young man replied, "but I'll just ask him
again, and we'll see how he answers. Say, Max! Do you say you don't
know where she is?"
"I don't know where she is just now," the boy answered sullenly.
"Did you know a little while ago?"
"Oh, dear! Max is so sensitive. This sort of thing will quite upset
him I'm sure," said Mrs. Deland.
The tall young man made no reply, but to Max he said:
"Tell us where she is, and we'll go and get her, but if you won't tell
us, we'll take you along to show us the way. Which will you do?"
More tired than he would have cared to admit, Max dared not refuse to
tell, for he had no desire to repeat the fearfully long walk that he
had taken.
And when he told how little Gwen had declared herself unable to follow
him, the disgust of his listeners was complete.
"So as the small girl was tired out with the long trip on which you
had taken her, you left her to be a little tenant of the lonely wooded
hilltop for the night!"
"A brave act, truly. Your mother must be proud of such a manly boy!"
said a stout man who had joined the group.
"I told her to come along, and I guess she could have if she'd wanted
to," Max said stolidly.
In disgust, and without another word to the boy or his mother, the
group, with one accord, turned toward the sandy road that led toward
the narrow path up the steep hillside.
They were sturdy men, well used to long tramps over rugged paths, and
soon they came upon Gwen, huddled close against a high ledge, in an
effort to keep warm.
She had been too frightened to cry. She had heard the angry shout of
the tramp when Max had stumbled over him, and now, although he had not
uttered a word since, nor had she heard a footstep, she trembled and
constantly looked about her to learn if he were approaching.
As the searchers made their way toward the crest of the hill, the dry
twigs that lay upon the ground broke under their feet, and the
underbrush snapped as they pushed the low branches back. As they
approached the rock where Gwen was sitting, she heard their voices,
and believing that instead of one tramp, an entire band of tramps was
coming toward her, she screamed with fright, and slipping from the
rock, cowered on the grass, trying to make herself as small as
possible.
They had heard her outcry, however, and now they called her name.
"Gwen! Little Gwen! Where are you? We've come to find you!"
Crying out to them, she hurried forward, her arms outstretched, as
she stumbled over the rough, coarse grass, over roots, and dry sticks
that lay in her path, until, in the effort to run, she pitched and
would have fallen, had not the big man of the party caught her, and
swung her to a safe place upon his shoulder.
For once Gwen was truly grateful, and closely she clung about the big
man's neck, so glad was she, that he and his friends had clambered up
to her lonely perch on the big rock at the summit of the hill.
Once she whispered in his ear. "There was a big, horrid tramp up on
that hill. I know, because I heard him shout at Max. I wonder if he
hurt Max, and I wonder where Max is now. Did some other men go hunting
for him, just as you hunted for me?"
"No need of hunting for Max," the big man replied, "for he took good
care of himself, and came sneaking home, safe and sound, while he left
you, little girl, to look out for yourself as well as you could."
With care they made their way down the rugged hillside, and Gwen was
so happy that she sang snatches of songs, and someone in the rear
whistled to keep her company.
Arrived at the house, Gwen had a fine welcome.
She was not generally liked, because of her pert, saucy ways, but the
fact that she had been lost, and now had returned was surely a reason
for rejoicing.
"Where's Max?" queried a young man who had been one of the searchers.
"The dear boy was so tired with his tramp that he asked to go at once
to bed. He was really fatigued, for usually he coaxes to remain up,"
Mrs. Deland said, "and really," she continued, "the only reason that
he did not take Gwen along with him was because she said that she
_must_ rest a while."
"I suppose it was impossible for him to wait with her," said someone
in the crowd.
"Max is very tender hearted," Mrs. Deland responded, "and he said he
thought if he waited, she might start before she was sufficiently
rested."
With much dignity, Mrs. Deland turned from the piazza, and entered the
house. She knew that Max was at fault, and that everyone in the group
thought so.
She would not acknowledge that her little son could be in the wrong.
Max, according to her ideas, should be praised, and approved of at all
times.
Gwen was the center of interest, and that pleased her greatly. Mrs.
Harcourt was delighted, fairly beamed upon those who crowded around
her small daughter, to ask all about her long tramp and how it seemed
to be alone on the wooded hilltop.
Of course the story lost nothing in the telling.
Gwen made it really thrilling, but after a time, even her mother felt
that the tale was becoming rather lurid for a strictly truthful
account, and she dragged Gwen away to the hall, and up the stairway,
but she made herself absurd.
"Really, Gwen, you should be a bit careful," she said, as gently as if
afraid of offending her small girl. "If your wonderful imagination
made you think you saw eyes peering at you from behind those
tree-trunks, you should remember that common people might not believe
you. Ordinary people could not understand."
"I don't care if they don't!" Gwen said stoutly. "I shall tell what I
want to, and they can believe it or not, just as they choose."
"I surely am the mother of a genius," murmured the silly woman.
* * * * *
A few days later, great excitement prevailed among the children of the
Summer colony at Cliffmore, and their elders were sufficiently
interested to talk of the news on the piazza, the beach, the little
park, at breakfast, at lunch, and at dinner.
"It is really to be quite an affair," said one lady, to which her
friend replied:
"I wouldn't miss it for the world, for I heard that no expense had
been spared, and that the whole thing will be as beautiful as a
dream."
"Who planned it, or who is managing it?" questioned another, to which
yet another who now joined the group replied:
"Captain Atherton is 'backing' it, I hear, and so, of course, Rose
will be the central figure in the pageant."
Yes, that was the cause of the excitement. There was to be a grand
pageant, and the children would be the principal actors.
"Is Gwen Harcourt to be in the pageant?" someone asked, but before
anyone could reply Mrs. Harcourt joined them.
"Is my little Gwen to be in it? Why, what a question!" she said. "They
would hardly have a pageant without her."
"I suppose not," someone said, in a tone of disgust, but Mrs. Harcourt
did not notice that.
"Well, no," she responded. "I hardly think they could, because beside
the part that Gwen will actually take, she will be a great help in
other ways. Her ideas are so original, and she is always so willing to
tell others how things should be done, that she, really, is a
wonderful help. The committee arranging the pageant constantly ask her
advice."
"I wonder if they asked Gwen's permission to have the pageant at all?"
grumbled a small boy who stood near the ladies who had been talking.
Yes, it was to be a great event at Cliffmore, and everyone was
interested.
"What are you going to be, and what are you going to wear?" were the
questions oftenest asked, and groups of merry, laughing children sat
chatting on the piazzas, or strolling along the beach, talking, always
talking of the pageant.
It was, indeed, to be a grand and beautiful procession that would make
its way along the beach.
The children were greatly excited, and each was interested in the
costumes that her playmates were intending to wear, as well as that in
which she would herself appear.
There had been an odd happening. Captain Atherton had chosen the list
of characters to be represented, and Mrs. Sherwood had written a clear
description of the costumes to be worn.
All were pleased with the parts assigned them, save Gwen Harcourt and
Max Deland.
"I shall not be one of the mermaids," Gwen had boldly declared. "If I
can't be the Water Queen, I'll not be a water fairy at all!"
"Very well," Captain Atherton had said quietly, "I will find someone
to take your place."
Gwen was surprised. She had felt sure that Captain Atherton would beg
her to remain, and that he would also give to her the part of the
Water Queen.
Max had had a similar experience. He had expressed his dislike for the
part given him, and had been told that the parts once given out could
not be changed.
"Come on, Gwen!" he had said. "We can get up something for ourselves!"
"What _do_ you mean?" she asked.
"Come on over to the big lodge, and I'll tell you. We'll have fun
enough. You'll see!"