A FRIEND IN NEED
"But we must do something, really we must, Miss Eleanor!" cried Bessie.
"I must, I mean. Zara trusted me, and if I don't help her now, just
think of what will happen."
"You must keep calm, Bessie, that's the first thing to think of. If you
let yourself get excited and worked up you won't help Zara, and you'll
only get into trouble yourself. You say she trusted you--now you must
trust me a little. Tell me, first, just what this man will do and if he
has any right at all to touch her."
"Why, he's the meanest man in town, Wanaka! He really is--everyone says
so! None of the men would work for him in harvest time. They said he
worked them to death and wouldn't give them enough to eat."
"Yes, but why should he pick Zara up that way and carry her off?"
"Because he wants to make her work for him. He's awfully rich, and Paw
Hoover said he'd lent money to so many men in the village and all around
that they had to do just what he told them, or he'd sell their land and
their horses and cattle. And he said he'd make the people at the
poor-farm bind Zara over to him and then she'd have to work for him
until she was twenty-one, just for her board."
"That's pretty serious, Bessie. I'm sure he wouldn't be a good guardian,
but if he had such influence over the men, maybe they wouldn't stop to
think about that."
She was silent for a minute, thinking hard.
"Where was he going with her, Bessie? He seemed to be driving away from
Hedgeville."
"Yes, he was. I suppose he was going over to Zebulon. That's the county
seat, and he goes over there quite often. Almost every time they hold
court, I guess. Paw Hoover said he was a mighty bad neighbor, always
getting into lawsuits."
"Well, I think I'd better go to Zebulon. If I talk to him, perhaps I can
make him give Zara up. How far is it, Bessie?"
"Only about two miles. But if you go, can't I go with you?"
"I think I'd better go alone, Bessie. If he saw you, he might try to
take you back to the Hoovers, you know. No, I'll go alone. If it's only
two miles, it won't take me long to walk there, and I can get someone to
drive me back. Girls!"
They crowded about her.
"I'm going away for a little while. You are to stay here and wait for
me. And keep close together. I'll get back as soon as I can. And while
I'm gone you can clear up the mess we made with luncheon--when you've
finished it, I mean. Now, you'd better hurry up and eat it. I won't
wait."
And the guardian hurried off, determined to rescue Zara from the
clutches of the old miser who was so anxious to make her work for him,
because he saw a chance to get a good deal for nothing, or almost
nothing. If the general opinion about Silas Weeks was anywhere near
true, it would cost him mighty little to satisfy himself that he was
keeping faith with the county and giving Zara, in return for her
services, good board, lodging, and clothing.
Bessie watched Wanaka go off, and she tried to convince herself that
everything would be all right. But, strong as was the faith she already
had in Miss Mercer, she knew the ways of Silas Weeks too well to be
really confident. And she couldn't get rid of the feeling that she, and
no one else, was responsible for Zara. It was because of her that Zara
had come away, and Bessie felt that she should make sure, herself, that
Zara didn't have cause to regret the decision.
And then, suddenly, too, another thought struck her. What if she had,
without intention, misled Miss Eleanor? Suppose Farmer Weeks didn't go
to Zebulon at all? It was possible, for Bessie remembered now that
three-quarters of a mile or so along the road was a crossroad that
would lead him, should he turn there, back to Hedgeville.
With the thought Bessie could no longer remain still. She knew the
roads, and she determined that she must at least find out where Zara had
been taken. She might not be able to help her herself, but she could get
the news, the true news, for those who could. And, saying nothing to any
of the other girls, lest they should want to come with her, she slipped
off silently.
She did not descend to the road. If one farmer from Hedgeville had
passed already, others might follow in his wake, and Bessie was fiercely
determined not to let anything check her or interfere with her until she
knew what had become of Zara.
So, although she might have been able to travel faster by the road,
Bessie stayed above, and hurried along, making the best progress she
could, although the going was rough. She could see, without being seen.
If anyone who threatened her liberty came along, she could hide easily
enough behind a tree or a clump of bushes.
At the crossroad she hesitated. She wasn't sure that Farmer Weeks had
turned off. He might very well, as she had thought at first, have been
on his way to Zebulon.
"What a stupid I am!" she thought in a moment, however. "Of course I
ought to take the crossroad! If he's gone to Zebulon Wanaka will find
him, and if he hasn't, he must have gone this way. If I turn off here,
there'll be someone after him, no matter which way he's gone."
So, still keeping to the side of the road, she followed the pointer on
the signboard which said, "Hedgeville, six miles."
About a mile and a half from the crossroads the road Bessie was now
following crossed a railroad, and as she neared that spot she moved as
carefully as she could, for a suspicion that gave her a ray of hope was
rising in her mind. At the railroad crossing there was a little
settlement and an inn that was very popular with automobilists. And
Bessie thought it was possible that Farmer Weeks might have stopped
there. Miser as he was, he was fond of good food, and, since he was his
own cook most of the time when he was at home, he didn't get much of it
except when he was away, as he was now. Bessie had heard Maw Hoover
sneer at him more than once for the way he hinted for an invitation to
dinner or supper.
"Old skinflint!" Bessie had heard Maw say. "I notice he has a way of
forgettin' anythin' he wants to tell Paw till jest before meal time.
Then he comes over post haste, and nothin'll do but Paw's got to stand
out there listenin' to him, when all he wants, really, is to have me
ring the bell, so's Paw'll have to ask him to stay."
Even in her sorrow at Zara's plight, Bessie couldn't help laughing at
the remembrance of those times. But then the smoke of the inn came in
sight, and Bessie forgot everything but the need of caution. If Farmer
Weeks were there, he must on no account see her. That would end any
chance she had of helping Zara.
She crept through a grove of trees that surrounded the inn, to work up
behind it. In the rear, as she knew, were the stables, and the place
where the automobiles of the guests were kept. She wanted to get a look
at the horses and carriages that were tied in the shed for she would
know Farmer Weeks' rig anywhere, she was sure. But she had to be
careful, for the inn was a busy spot, and around the horses and the
autos, especially, were lots of men, working, smoking, loafing--and any
one of them, Bessie felt sure, was certain to question her if they saw
her prowling about.
She got behind the shed, and then she had to work along to the end
farthest from the direction of the road she had left, since, at the near
end, a group of men were sitting down and eating their lunch. But, with
the shed full of horses making plenty of noise, to screen her movements,
that wasn't so difficult. Bessie managed it all right, and, when she got
to the far end, and had a chance to peep at the horses, her heart leaped
joyfully, for she saw within a few feet of her Farmer Weeks' horse and
buggy, the buggy sadly in need of paint and repairs, and the harness a
fair indication of the miserly nature of its owner, since it was patched
in a dozen places and tied together with string in a dozen others.
"Well, I know that much, anyhow!" said Bessie to herself. "He didn't
take her to Zebulon, and he can't have done anything yet. I don't
believe he's got any right to keep her that way, not unless the people
at the poor-farm give him the right to take her. Zara hasn't done
anything--it isn't as if she'd been arrested, and were running away from
that."
Suddenly Bessie started with alarm. She had drawn back among the trees
to hide while she tried to think out the best course of action for her
to take, and she heard someone moving quite close to her. But then, as
the one who had frightened her came into view, she smiled, for it was
only a small boy, very dirty and red of face, his white clothes soiled,
but looking thoroughly happy, just the same.
"Hello!" he said, staring at her.
"Hello, yourself! Where did you come from? And wherever did you get all
that dirt on yourself?"
"Oh, in the woods," said the small boy. "Say, my name's Jack Roberts,
and my pop owns that hotel there. What's your name? Do you like
cherries? Can you climb a tree? Did you ever go out in the woods all
alone? Can you swim?"
"My, my! One question at a time," laughed Bessie. "I love cherries. Have
you got some?"
"Bet I have!" he said. The single answer to all his questions seemed to
satisfy him thoroughly, and he pulled out a great handful of cherries
from his straw hat, which he had been using for a basket.
"Here you are," he said. "Say, do you know that other girl?"
Bessie's heart leaped again. She felt that she had struck real luck at
last.
"What other girl?" she asked, but even as she asked the question, her
heart sank again. He couldn't mean Zara. How could he possibly know
anything about her?
"She was dressed just like you," he said. "And she had black hair and
her skin was dark. So she didn't look like you at all, you see. She was
crying, too. Say, aren't those cherries good? Why don't you eat them?"
Bessie was so interested and excited when she heard him speak of Zara
that she forgot to eat the cherries. But she saw that she had hurt his
feelings by her neglect of his present, and she made amends at once. She
ate several of them, and smacked her lips.
"They're splendid, Jack! They're the best I've eaten this year. I think
you're lucky to be able to get them."
Jack was delighted.
"You come here again later on and I'll give you some of the best pears
you ever tasted."
"Tell me some more about the girl, Jack--the other girl, with black
hair. I think perhaps she's a friend of mine. Why was she crying?"
"I don't know but she was. She was going on terrible. And she was with
her pop, I guess. So I s'pose she'd just been naughty, and he'd punished
her."
"What makes you think that, Jack?"
"Oh, he came in, and he talked to my pop, and they both laughed and
looked at her. He had her by the hand, and she didn't say anything--she
just cried. And my pop says, 'Well, I've got just the place for her. Too
bad to send her off without her dinner, but when they're bad they've got
to be punished.' And he winked at her, but she didn't wink back."
"What happened then, Jack?"
"They put her up in my room. See, you can see it there, right over the
tree with the branch torn off. See that branch? It was torn off in that
storm yesterday."
"And didn't she have any dinner?"
"Oh, yes. My pop, he sent her some dinner, of course. He was just
joking. That's why he winked at her. He'd never let anyone go hungry, my
pop wouldn't!"
"What sort of looking man brought her here, Jack?"
"Oh, he--he was just a man. He had white hair, and eye-glasses. Say,
that's his rig right there in the corner of the shed. I don't think much
of it, do you?"
Bessie wondered what she should do. She liked Jack, and she was sure he
would do anything he could for her. But he was only a little boy, and it
seemed as if that would not be very much. But he was her only hope, and
she decided to trust him.
"Jack," she said, soberly, "that is my friend, and I've been looking for
her. And that old man isn't her father at all. He wants to make her do
something horrid--something she doesn't want to do at all. And if she
doesn't get away, I'm afraid he will, too."
"Say, I didn't like him when I first saw him! I'd hate to have him for
a pop. Why doesn't she run away?"
"How can she, Jack?"
"Huh, that's just as easy! Why, I never go down the stairs at all,
hardly, from my room. The branches of that big tree stick right over to
the window, and it's awful easy to climb down."
"She could do that, too, Jack, but she doesn't know I'm here to help
her. She'd think there wasn't any use getting down."
"Say, I'll climb up and tell her, if you like. Shall I?"
"Will you, really, Jack? And tell her Bessie is waiting here for her?
Will you show her how to get down, and how to get here? And don't you
think someone will see her?"
"No, an' if they do, they can't catch us. I've got a cave back here
that's the peachiest hiding-place you ever saw! I'll show you. They'll
never find you there. You just wait!"
He was off like a flash, and Bessie, terribly anxious, but hopeful, too,
saw him run up the tree like a squirrel. Then the branches hid him from
her, and she couldn't see what happened at the window. But before she
had waited more than two minutes, although it seemed like hours to poor
Bessie, Jack was in sight again, and behind him came Zara. She dropped
easily to the ground, and ran toward Bessie, behind Jack, like a scared
rabbit.
"Oh, Bessie, I'm so glad--so glad!" she cried. "I was so frightened--"
From the inn there was a shout of anger.
"Gee! He's found out already," cried Jack. "Come on! Don't be scared!
I'll show you where to hide so he'll never find you. Run--run, just as
fast as you can!"
And they were off, while Farmer Weeks shouted behind them.