Before the week was over, winter had come to Sunrise Cove and The
Corners in earnest. Snow fell and drifted, until there was scarcely
anything to be seen one morning when Carolyn May awoke and looked out of
her bedroom windows but a white, fleecy mantle.
This was more snow than the little girl had ever seen in New York. She
came down to breakfast very much excited.
"What are we going to do about all this snow?" she asked. "Why! there
isn't any janitor to shovel off the walk, and no street cleaners to
clear the crosswalks! How am I ever going to get to school?"
"I reckon you'll get to school, all right, if the men get through with
the ploughs before half-past eight. And if Miss Minnie gets here,"
chuckled Uncle Joe.
He went out and fed the fowls for Aunty Rose and did the other chores.
But when he started for the store, promising to send Chet Gormley up to
dig the paths, he had to wade through drifts higher than the top rail of
the fences.
"Don't--don't they shovel up the snow and put it in carts and carry it
all away?" asked Carolyn May of Aunty Rose.
"Who ever heard the like?" returned Mrs. Kennedy. "What kind of a way is
that to do, child? And where would they cart it to? There's just as much
snow in one place as there is in another."
"Why, in New York," explained the little girl, "there's always an army
of men at work after a snowstorm--poor men, you know. And lots and lots
of wagons. My papa used to say the snow was a blessing to the poor who
wanted to earn a little money.
"Of course, lots of the men that shovel snow don't have warm coats--or
mittens, even--or overshoes! They wrap their feet in potato sacks to keep
them warm and dry."
"Well, well," murmured Aunty Rose. "So that's what they do with snow in
the city, is it? Live and learn."
Uncle Joe had shovelled off the porch and steps, and Prince had beaten
his own dooryard in the snow in front of his house. For he had a house
of his own, now--a roomy, warm one--built by Mr. Parlow.
It must be confessed that, although Uncle Joe paid for the building of
this dog-house, it never would have been built by Jedidiah Parlow had it
not been for Carolyn May. At first the grouchy old carpenter refused to
do the job.
"I ain't got to work for Joe Stagg's money--not yit, I guess," growled
the carpenter. "Tell him to git somebody else to build his house."
"Oh, but Mr. Parlow," gasped Carolyn May, quite amazed, "it isn't for
Uncle Joe, you know!"
"What ain't for your Uncle Joe?" demanded Mr. Parlow.
"The dog-house."
"Why ain't it? His money's goin' to pay for it, I reckon!"
"Oh, yes, that's so," admitted Carolyn May. "But Prince is going to live
in it, and, you know, Prince is a friend of yours, Mr. Parlow."
"Wal, no gittin' around sich logic, I do allow," grunted the old man,
his eyes twinkling, and the flush of anger dying out of his cheeks. "I
s'pose it is fur the dog. And the poor beast ain't nobody's enemy. Wal!"
So Prince had his warm house for the winter. Now Carolyn May put on her
rubber boots and warm coat and hood and went out to release the dog for
his morning run. His "morning scramble" would be the better term on this
occasion. Why, at the first bound he was buried in a drift!
"Isn't it lucky," said Carolyn May to Aunty Rose, who stood in the
doorway, "that Prince can smell his way around so well? If it wasn't for
his nose, he'd never be able to find his way out of those drifts. If _I_
fell down in one, I know I wouldn't be able to smell my way out again."
But after Chet Gormley had come and dug the paths, and the ox-teams had
come along with ploughs to break out the roads, she found it possible to
go to school. She took Prince with her.
Prince had learned to behave very well at school now. He was not allowed
in the schoolroom, but he remained on the porch or went back home, as he
pleased. But he was always waiting at the door for his little mistress
at recess and when the session closed.
At noon Uncle Joe came home, dragging a sled--a big roomy one, glistening
with red paint. Just the nicest sled Carolyn May had ever seen, and one
of the best the hardware dealer carried in stock.
"Oh, my, that's lovely!" breathed the little girl in awed delight.
"That's ever so much better than any sled I ever had before. And Prince
could draw me on it, if I only had a harness for him. He used to drag me
in the park. Of course, if he saw a cat, I had to get off and hold him."
Mr. Stagg, once started upon the path of good deeds, seemed to like it.
At night he brought home certain straps and rivets, and in the kitchen,
much to Aunty Rose's amazement, he fitted Prince to a harness which the
next day Carolyn May used on the dog, and Prince drew her very nicely
along the beaten paths.
"But, if anybody would have told me, I'm free to confess I would not
have believed it," Aunty Rose declared, referring to Mr. Stagg's actions
in stronger language than Carolyn May had ever heard her use before.
Carolyn May made a practice now of kissing Uncle Joe good-night when he
started for the store after supper. "'Cause I'm always in bed when you
get home," she explained.
Aunty Rose appeared not to notice this display of affection, and after a
time Mr. Stagg got so used to it that he positively did not blush. But
she climbed right into his lap and kissed him for the harness and sled,
and the housekeeper felt in duty bound to comment upon it.
"You're on the road to spoil that child, Joseph Stagg," she said.
"Ahem!" coughed the hardware dealer, eyeing her with more boldness than
he was usually able to display. "Ahem! I reckon somebody else around
here began the spoiling--if any--Aunty Rose."
And the woman smiled grimly. "Well," she said, "_you_ should not be in
your second childhood--at your age."
By Saturday the roads were in splendid condition for sleighing. The
heavy sleds, transporting timber or sawed planks from the camps and
mills to town, packed the snow firmly.
So Carolyn May went sledding. Soberly, Prince drew the new red sled and
his little mistress along the road towards Miss Amanda's. Of late the
little girl wanted to see the carpenter's daughter just as frequently as
possible. There was a secret understanding between Miss Parlow and
Carolyn May--something both thought of continually, but of which neither
spoke directly.
Carolyn May knew that the pretty lady was glad that Uncle Joe had come
to love her. Every mark of affection that the hardware merchant showed
his little niece the latter retailed to Miss Amanda, and each event lost
nothing in the telling.
Now she desired to show her friend the new sled and Prince's harness.
Mr. Stagg might still pass the Parlow house with his face averted;
nevertheless, his praises were sung to Miss Amanda continually by
Carolyn May.
"Now, Prince," said the little girl as they set forth, "I do hope we
don't meet any cats--or other dogs, either. Dogs are bad enough; but, you
know, if you see a cat you can_not_ keep your mind on what you are
doing."
Prince whined and wagged his ridiculous tail. It did seem as though he
knew just what she was talking about.
However, until they got away from The Corners, at least, they met with
no adventure. The blacksmith hailed Carolyn May--he was a jolly
fellow--and asked her if she wanted to have her horse sharpened.
"No, thank you, Mr. Lardner," the little girl replied. "You see, Prince
has got his claws, so he _can't_ slip on the hard snow. He doesn't need
to be sharpened like the horses."
It was not altogether a pleasant afternoon, for there was a curtain of
haze being drawn over the sun, and the wind was searching. And not only
did the wind cut sharply, but it blew clouds of light snow from the tops
of the drifts into one's face and eyes. Carolyn May almost wished she
had not started for Miss Amanda's house--and this before she was halfway
to her destination.
Prince, however, did not seem to mind it much. The sled slipped easily
over the beaten snow, and Carolyn May was a light load for him, for
Prince was a strong dog.
Out of sight of the houses grouped at The Corners the road to town
seemed as lonely as though it were a veritable wilderness. Here and
there the drifts had piled six feet deep, for the wind had a free sweep
across the barrens.
"Now, there's somebody coming," said Carolyn May, seeing a moving object
ahead between the clouds of drifting snow spray. "Is it a sleigh,
Princey, or just a man?"
She lost sight of the object, then sighted it again.
"It must be a man. It can't be a bear, Princey." Everybody had told her
there were no more bears left in the woods about Sunrise Cove.
"And, anyway, I'm only afraid of bears at night--when I go up to bed in
the dark," Carolyn May told herself. "Here it is broad daylight!"
Besides, if it were any such animal, Prince would surely give tongue. He
only sniffed and pricked up his ears. The strange object had disappeared
again.
It was just at the place where the spring spouted out of the rocky
hillside and trickled across the road. There was a sort of natural
watering trough here in the rock where the horses stopped to drink. The
dog drew the little girl closer to the spot.
"Where _has_ that man gone to? If it was a man."
Prince stopped suddenly and whined.
"What is the matter, Princey?" demanded Carolyn May, really quite
disturbed. There was something in the drift that the wind was heaping
beside the beaten track. What could it be? "Prince!"
The dog barked, and then looked around at his mistress, as though to
say: "See there!"
Carolyn May tumbled off the sled in a hurry. When she did so she slipped
on a patch of snow-covered ice and fell. But she was not hurt.
"There! that's where the water runs across the road. It's all
slippy--Oh!"
It was the sleeve of a man's rough coat thrust out of the snowbank that
brought this last cry to the child's lips. In a very few moments the
sign of the unfortunate wayfarer would have been completely covered in
the drifting snow.
"Oh, oh! It's a man!" burst from Carolyn May's trembling lips. "How cold
he must be!"
She was cold herself--and frightened. She had heard of people dying in
the snow; and this person seemed perfectly helpless.
"Oh, dear me, Prince!" she cried, recovering a measure of her courage.
"We can't let him die here! We've just _got_ to save him!"
She plumped down on her knees and began brushing the snow away. She
uncovered his shoulder. She took hold of this with her mittened hands
and tried to shake the prone figure.
He moved. It was ever so little, but it inspired Carolyn May with hope.
She was not so much afraid of him now, she told herself. He was not
dead.
"Oh, do wake up! Please wake up!" she cried, digging away the snow as
fast as possible.
A shaggy head was revealed, with an old cap pulled down tightly over the
ears. The man moved again and grunted something. He half turned over,
and there was blood upon the snow, and a great frosted cake of it on the
side of his face.
Carolyn May was dreadfully frightened. The man's head was cut and the
blood was smeared over the front of his jacket. Now she could see a
puddle of it, right where he had fallen on the ice--just as she had
fallen herself. Only, he had struck his head on a rock and cut himself.
"You poor thing!" murmured Carolyn May. "Oh, you mustn't lie here! You
must get up! You'll--you'll be frozen!"
"Easy, mate," muttered the man. "I ain't jest right in my top-hamper, I
reckon. Hold hard, matey."
He tried to get up. He rose to his knees, but pitched forward again.
Carolyn May was not afraid of him now--only troubled.
"I'll take you to Miss Amanda," cried the little girl, pulling at his
coat again. "She's a nurse, and she'll know just what to do for you.
Come, Prince and I will take you."
The dog stood by whining, acting as though he knew just what the trouble
was and was anxious to help. The man struggled up into a kneeling
posture.
"My top-hamper ain't jest right," he murmured again. "That was a crack!
Blood! I reckon I'm some hurt, miss."
"Well, I should say you were hurt!" Carolyn May responded briskly. "But
I know Miss Mandy can fix you up. Let's go there--_now_! It's awfully
cold standing here."
"Belike I can't get there," mumbled the man, still on his knees.
"Oh, you must! It's not far. You were coming towards The Corners,
weren't you?"
"I was bound out o' town; yes, miss," the man replied.
"Miss Amanda's is the last house you passed, then. It isn't far,"
repeated Carolyn May.
"I--I don't believe I kin make it, matey," groaned the man, evidently not
quite clear in his mind whom he was addressing. He weaved to and fro as
he knelt, his eyes half-closed, muttering and groaning to himself.
"Oh, you mustn't!" cried Carolyn May. "You mustn't give up. Crawl onto
my sled. Prince and I can drag you to Miss Amanda's. Of course, we can."
"Believe you'd better leave me here, matey," muttered the man.
But Carolyn May would not hear to that. She bustled about, brought the
sled closer to him, and made Prince stand around properly in his
harness. Then she guided the half-blinded man to the sled, on which he
managed to drop himself.
"But that dog can't never pull me, matey," he declared faintly.
"Oh, yes, he can," said Carolyn May cheerfully. "I can help, too. When
you _have_ to do a thing, my Aunty Rose says, you just up and do it.
Now, Princey--_pull_!"