IN THE HAUNTED HOUSE
The girls worked hard to bower the interior of the Lodge with
evergreen; to spread and hang the rugs they had brought; but before
their task was finished distant whistles warned Jean. She took
Bouncer’s face between her hands and charged him with May Nell’s
protection as if he were human. And Bouncer wagged his tail, and in a
short, sharp bark pledged himself as if he were human.
“Don’t go off Mr. Potter’s land, will you, May Nell? The fenced part, I
mean. Eat some lunch soon; Billy may be gone an hour longer. Good-bye.
Don’t get too tired. I’ll send Clarence if I can find him.”
Jean, too, crossed the little bridge, climbed the fence, mounted her
wheel, and rolled off down the dusty road.
May Nell watched the flying figure turn out of sight around the
mountain; and for a minute the forest grew absolutely still, and the
child began to tremble. But a meadow lark, almost from under her feet
it seemed, sent forth a rippling song; across the river her mate
replied. A flock of white ducks came waddling and quacking from the
opposite field, plunged into the water, and swam about noisily, tipping
their little tails up and their big bills down as they reached for
submerged morsels. Bouncer made a swift circuit of the Lodge, sniffing
now and then questioningly; but came soon and sat down in front of May
Nell; put his paw on her knee and gave her another short bark.
“Good dog! I understand you, Bouncer, and I’m not lonesome any more.”
She opened the lunch pail and gave him a scrap from it; ate a sandwich
herself; and in a moment started off to find the Idean vine. Nothing
appeared that fitted her mind’s picture of that creeper; but she found
a great sheet of delicate wild clematis, covering the tangled roots
of a fallen oak with its pale green tendrils. The earth was soft, the
roots easily lifted; and shortly she had masses of it uprooted and
trailing after her to the Lodge.
Many times she had seen Mrs. Bennett transplant the garden flowers,
had helped; now she put all her lore to use. Patiently she toiled with
brittle sticks and pointed stones till the vine was replanted against
the rude walls; emptied the dinner pail and trudged back and forth to
the river several times for water, to wet the earth above the roots;
and patted it down with muddy little hands.
She was happy and the time passed unnoticed till she had finished, and
put the food back in the pail, when a queer, dizzy feeling came upon
her and she sank down on one of the rugs.
“Why doesn’t Billy come?” she asked of Bouncer; and the dog ran out of
the door and stood on three legs, one forefoot lifted, his eyes fixed
on the spot where Billy had disappeared. But no master was to be seen,
and he went back to May Nell, whined, and put his nose on her knee.
“My stomach’s crying so I’ll have to eat one more sandwich, Bouncer.
It’s a shame when Billy isn’t here. I’ll give you half, old dog.”
She put out her hand for the pail but stopped suddenly, for the dog
growled; and the next instant the room darkened, and a man stood in the
doorway.
May Nell looked at him with wide eyes. She saw that he was not a
vineyard workman, his clothes were too fine. She did not see them in
detail, the large checked trousers, the shiny gloves, and the big
diamond, but she felt instinctively that one who could dress so was
different from the men she knew. And the look in his face made her
cold.
“Well, Miss Smith, are you alone here?”
How did he know her name, she wondered, yet answered more bravely than
she felt. “Yes, sir.” She thought it best to be as polite as possible.
“I’m alone now, but the boys are expected every minute.” She would say
“boys” even if Clarence didn’t come; it sounded more protecting.
“You’re George Rideout Smith’s kid, ain’t you?”
[Illustration: “You’re George Rideout Smith’s kid, ain’t you?”]
“Yes; but I’m afraid my papa’s dead, he’s been gone so long.” How she
hated that word “kid.”
“Well, he ain’t dead; he’s alive and bully, with a wad that bulges. I’m
going to take you to him.”
“Right--now--are you?” The arm that was around Bouncer tightened, and
she thought her “heart would fly right up into her throat.”
“Yes, right now.” He stepped nearer, and Bouncer growled and bristled.
The man swore and looked for a cudgel.
“Oh, please, mister, sir, don’t hurt Bouncer. I’d rather you’d hit
me. He’s the best dog ever lived, and I won’t let you hurt him.” Her
courage grew as she spoke, and he stopped his search and glanced her
way. She looked up, bravely pleading for the dog she hugged harder.
“You’re a plucky kid, all right,” he replied, touched more than he
would have admitted. “I won’t hurt the dog if you do as I tell you.” He
looked for a cord or rope, but found none, and pulled from his pocket a
red handkerchief. “Tie this around his neck; let one end hang down.”
The child obeyed, but her fingers trembled; and Bouncer whined and
licked her hand.
“Pull it tighter.”
That was not difficult, for the soft silk slipped into a knot as strong
as if tied in hemp.
“Bring him here.” The man stepped out and laid his hand on a sapling
that grew beside the Lodge. May Nell followed with the dog.
“Now hold his head between your hands and tell him not to touch me.”
The child was “boiling inside,” yet she believed Bouncer’s life
depended on her obedience. And anyway, Billy would come in a minute.
Oh, why wasn’t he there now!
The big hands in spite of the shiny gloves tied the dog fast and very
close to the tree. “Now give me that dinky ribbon from your hair,” he
commanded, and tied the growling dog’s forefeet together. And May Nell
knew the man’s voice was gruffer when Bouncer was helpless. He gazed
at her reproachfully from eyes that moved though his head could not.
She would never forget those sad eyes that followed her when she was
ordered away.
She glanced down the road, and swiftly around. Not a soul in sight.
Obedience was inevitable.
He held out his hand, but the little girl put hers behind her. “I’ll
come by myself,” she said with dignity. Whatever happened that dreadful
man should not touch her.
He laughed coarsely. “George Smith’s kid, all right. You’ve got the
same high way with you.”
“Where are you going to take me?” she asked, trying to equal his long
stride.
“Where you’ll be safe till I let your father know I’ve got you.”
“But you said you would take me to him. I thought you knew where he is.”
Again he laughed, and patted May Nell roughly but not unkindly. “I do;
but there’s preliminaries before I get you two together. _Sabe?_”
May Nell didn’t understand, but thought it best to answer in the
affirmative. Beyond that she said nothing, but trudged along by his
side till they came to the road and turned toward the haunted house,
when he took her suddenly in his arms and walked on in the deepest of
the dusty ruts.
“I can walk,” she said, struggling to be put down.
“So you can, but I’ll carry you just the same.” His smothering hold
warned her to quiescence; and she did not stir till he set her within
the rear door.
“Do you live here?” she questioned with an irrepressible shudder.
“No; but I stop here sometimes. Are you afraid of ghosts?”
“Oh, no; there aren’t any. Billy says so, and he knows. He knows, too,
that there are other people here beside the Italians.”
The man faced her abruptly. “The devil he knows!”
“Does he?” May Nell stared innocently into the darkening eyes. “I
should think that would make you awfully agitated.”
For an instant he looked as if he would beat her. Then his face broke
into a smile that held no fear for her. “Say, kid, you’re up to the
limit; and I’m on the square with you. In three days, if you obey me,
you’ll jump into your dad’s arms. I’ve got to lock you up now; but
nothing’s going to hurt you, and I’ll see that you’re comfortable.”
Locked up! The child’s heart beat stiflingly; yet she did not cry out;
she thought self-control would win her more favor than tears.
“This isn’t so bad,” he continued, as he led her into a sunny upper
chamber that looked on the mountain in the rear. “And it’ll be all over
in a day or so; you’ll see your father,--on the square you will, little
kid. Do you think you’ll scream? You’d better not.” He put his hand
under her chin to lift her face, and she was glad he wore gloves.
“I’ll not make a noise, and I’ll--I’ll try not to cry; but I’m afraid
I’ll ha-have t-to,” she faltered, struggling to hide her eyes that grew
moist in spite of herself.
Again he patted her shoulder, and this time his voice was more kind.
“You’re a brave little girl, and if I was your dad I’d be dead stuck on
you. Just you don’t be afraid. I’ll bring your supper by and by.”
He went out. May Nell stared after him, dazed and trembling. When the
key turned in the lock she looked around wildly; ran to the window
and tried it. It was nailed down. For a second she stood quite still,
gazing straight before her. Then the horror of her plight swept over
her; she threw herself on the bed, a crumpled little heap, buried her
face in the pillow, and sobbed piteously.