THE VOICE OF NATURE
The bronco was on his feet instantly, with Hippy still clinging to the
animal's neck. All the villagers scattered as Ginger bolted across the
street.
"Why don't _you_ tickle his ribs?" cried Emma to the spectators.
For a few moments it looked as if man and bronco would land in the
village postoffice by way of its large front window.
"Whew!" grinned Hippy, mopping his brow after he had conquered and tied
the pony to the tie-rail in front of the postoffice.
"I--I thought you said that Ginger was an educated horse," reminded
Emma.
"He is. That is what is the matter with him. Like some persons, not far
removed from me at the present moment, he knows _too_ much for the
general good of the community. What Ginger needs is a finishing school,
and he's going to start right in attending one this very day. You watch
my smoke."
"Smoke!" chuckled Elfreda Briggs. "I don't mind it at all ordinarily,
but I do wish that, when you get excited, you wouldn't insist on burning
soft coal."
"Say, Mister! Why don't yer feed the critter some soothin' syrup? They
got it in the store there," urged a spectator. "Good fer man er beast."
Hippy grinned at the speaker, and the villagers roared.
"Good idea, old top. We will pour a bottleful down your throat at the
same time. It is good for all animals, you know. Why don't you roar, you
folks? All right, if you won't, I'll roar." Hippy haw-hawed and the
villagers grinned.
"Come, come. Please do something, Hippy," begged Grace laughingly.
"Sure thing. What do you want me to do?"
"If you and Tom will roll and tie the packs, you will be doing us a
service. I imagine we girls are a bit out of practice in lashing packs,
and, as we have quite a bit of equipment to carry, and a long ride ahead
of us to-day, we must have everything secure, and start as soon as
possible."
"Want a guide, Mister?" questioned a young man dressed as a lumberjack,
lounging up to Lieutenant Wingate. "I kin take ye anywheres."
"We have one," replied Hippy briefly.
"I don't see none. Who be he?"
"Name's Hindenburg," said Hippy, pointing to the bull pup. "Greatest
little guide west of the Atlantic Ocean. I paid a thousand dollars for
his bark alone. The breeder threw in the rest of the dog because, when
you peel the bark off a tree, it dies."
Emma Dean uttered a high, trilling laugh, and the other girls joined in
so heartily that, for a moment, or so, work came to a standstill. Hippy
then briskly attacked the packs, while Tom secured them to the backs of
the ponies.
While this was being done Grace left the party to buy food sufficient to
last for at least a two-days' journey, and returned with her arms full
of bundles, the contents being transferred to the mess kits of her
companions.
"Are you going to let the dog run?" questioned Anne.
"I am not. He rides horseback," replied Hippy briefly. "I am a man of
resources."
"Especially in leading educated ponies," murmured Emma.
In the meantime, Hippy had taken a canvas bag from his pack and hung it
over the pommel of his saddle.
"Come, Little Hindenburg. We will now go bye-bye," cooed Hippy, lifting
the bull pup, depositing it in the open bag, and tying the dog's lead
string to the saddle.
"Hippy darlin'!" cried Nora. "If Hindenburg jumps out he will hang
himself and choke to death."
"Sure he will. That is why he isn't going to jump out."
Hindenburg stood up in the bag and barked in apparent approval of
Hippy's assertion.
"Listen!" exclaimed Emma, holding up a hand. "Bark again, Hindenburg."
Hindenburg did so, Emma Dean giving close attention.
"What is the big idea?" demanded Lieutenant Wingate.
"I wished to listen to this voice from the canine world because it
carries a message to us," answered Miss Dean gravely.
Hippy gave her a quick keen glance, but Ginger, taking sudden umbrage at
a dog barking at his side, demanded his rider's exclusive attention. By
the time Hippy had subdued the bronco, Emma's peculiar remark had passed
out of mind. Soon after that, with packs neatly lashed, each rider in
the saddle, the Overland Riders wheeled their ponies and jogged along
the village street on their way to the Great North Woods where Tom Gray,
as an expert forester, was to "cruise" or estimate the amount of timber
standing on the thousands of acres in the huge timber tract, the largest
tract of virgin timber east of the Rocky Mountains.
The Overland Riders, who, for the previous three summers, following
their return from France where they had served in various capacities
during the war, in the Overton College Unit, had decided to accompany
Tom to the Big Woods, seeking such adventure as the northland might
afford.
As they started away on the first leg of their journey, none was more
joyous than the bull pup, who barked at the villagers, barked at every
dog and cat within sight, and, after the village had been left behind,
entertained himself by barking at imaginary cats and dogs, Emma Dean
being his most interested listener. Emma's quietness attracted the
attention of her companions, and they wondered at the change in her,
for, on previous journeys, there was seldom a time when Emma did not
have a great deal to say.
Not until after five o'clock that afternoon did the party halt to rest
the ponies and have luncheon, the latter consisting of hot tea and
biscuit, the Riders having planned to eat their supper at Bisbee's
Corners.
Most of the girls were quite ready for a rest, but, this being their
first long ride of the season, they found, upon dismounting, that they
could hardly walk. Grace, being the least disturbed of the party,
volunteered to get the fire started and brew the tea, while Lieutenant
Wingate and Tom Gray watered the horses and staked them at the side of
the road for a nibble at the grass that grew there. Then all hands sat
down with their feet curled under them and held out their tin cups for a
drink of hot tea.
Emma Dean poised her cup in the air, and, with a far-away look in her
eyes, listened intently to the solemn bell note of a hermit thrush.
"What _is_ on your mind to-day, Emma Dean?" laughed Anne Nesbit. "Is it
possible that you are in love or something?"
"I am listening to the voices of nature," replied Emma solemnly, shaking
her head slowly and taking a sip of tea.
"This is something new, isn't it?" twinkled Grace Harlowe.
"Yes," agreed Elfreda. "Only a few hours ago you were listening to a
'message' from the throat of the bull pup, and now I suppose you are
turning your attention to that hermit thrush for the same reason."
"I am listening to the voices of nature," returned Emma. "Listening for
the messages that, when once rightly interpreted, will open up the vast
realm of the unknown to us mortals. If we would but listen we should
hear many mysteries explained and--"
"Speak, Hindenburg!" interjected Hippy, giving the bull pup a push with
the toe of his boot and bringing a growl from the animal. "How long has
she been this way, girls?"
"Make fun of me if you wish. I am used to it."
"I agree with Emma that there is much in nature that we might do well to
consider, suggestions that it would be to our everlasting advantage to
adopt," spoke up Tom Gray. "So far, however, as being able to read the
notes of the birds or the growl of a bull pup--piffle!"
"I agree with you," nodded Elfreda.
"Emma, where do you get all that dope?" questioned Hippy. "I am
beginning to believe what I suspected last season, when you were riding
that 'con-centration' hobby, that your war service has unbalanced your
mind."
"No, no! He is only joking, Emma," protested Nora.
"It matters little to me what Hippy Wingate says or thinks. I belong to
the 'Voice of Nature Cult.'"
"What's that? A breakfast food?" laughed Anne.
"The 'Cult' is an organization of advanced thinkers, presided over by
Madam Gersdorff, an adept who can converse with the birds of the air,
the animals and--"
"I wish she were here," declared Hippy with emphasis. "I should like to
have her tell that bronco what my opinion of him is and hear what he
says in reply," added Lieutenant Wingate, flipping a biscuit, which
Hindenburg deftly caught and gulped down at a single swallow.
"Madam Gersdorff gave some remarkable demonstrations of her power in the
direction of interpreting the voices of nature last winter," resumed
Emma. "She is giving me a correspondence course at five dollars a
lesson, which I consider a remarkably low price. I wish I might induce
you girls to take the course, but I don't suppose any of you have the
nerve to do so in the face of Hippy Wingate's unkind criticisms. Let me
tell you something. A medium that I went to in Boston a few weeks ago
told me some remarkable things about myself. I had been telling her of
this 'Voice of Nature Cult.' 'How strange,' answered the medium. 'I see
birds all about you. A whole flock of them accompanied you into this
very room. See! They are hovering over you at this very moment.'"
"I'll bet they were a flock of crows," murmured Hippy.
"Did you see them, darlin'?" begged Nora in an awed tone that brought
smiles to the faces of her companions.
"No. I was not sufficiently in tune with nature to see them, especially
in daylight."
"Good-night!" muttered Hippy Wingate.
"And what do you think the medium also said?" asked Emma.
"Five dollars, please," laughed Grace.
"She did not. All she would consent to take from me was a dollar, and
she said that, if I would come to her twice a week regularly, she would
promise that, in a few weeks, I could see the birds as well as she
could. But I didn't tell you--what the medium said of even greater
importance was that the explanation was that some of my ancestors, far
back in the dim shadows of the early hours of the world, were birds of
the air. Just think of it, girls! Birds! Flying through the air and--"
"Darting yon and hither," finished Hippy.
"_Alors!_ Let's fly," cried Elfreda Briggs amid a shout of laughter from
the Overland Riders.
"So say we all of us," answered Grace, springing up and beginning to
pack away her mess kit. "It will be long after dark before we reach
Bisbee's Corners."
The girls were still laughing as they rode away, Emma Dean silently
resentful, her chin in the air, her face flushed.
"Do you really think she is in earnest about that nature stuff?"
questioned Anne.
"She thinks she is, but of course she isn't. Emma, like many others,
must have a hobby to ride. She, fortunately, is fickle in her hobbies,
and rides one but a short time before she tires of it and casts it
aside. What would we do on these journeys without her?" laughed Grace.
"Yes. Our Emma is a joy and a delight," nodded Anne.
After a brisk ride at a steady gallop, the Overlanders jogged into the
one street that Bisbee's Corners possessed shortly after nine o'clock
that evening, all thoroughly tired but happy, with Hindenburg sound
asleep in the saddle bag.
The streets, they saw, were thronged with men, mostly lumberjacks, some
singing, others shouting, and here and there a pair of them engaged in
fist battles.
"Must have been paid off," observed Tom Gray. "We are getting near the
Big Woods, folks."
"I should say we are," replied Grace, taking in the scene with keen
interest. "I hear a fiddle. There must be a dance going on."
"A dance? Oh, let's go," cried Emma.
"Better listen to the voices of nature," answered Tom laughingly. "A
lumberjack dance is no place for a refined woman, or man either, for
that matter. Where to, Grace?"
"The general store. I'll go in. The girls had better stay on their
horses, for I don't like the looks of things in Bisbee's."
"Lumber-jacks are rough, but let them alone and they will let you
alone," said Lieutenant Wingate.
Tom Gray said this might be true in theory, but that it was not always
true in fact.
Pulling up before the general store, Grace dismounted and elbowed her
way through a crowd of men, smilingly demanding "gangway," which was
readily granted, though accompanied by quite personal remarks about her,
to which, of course, the Overland girl gave not the slightest heed.
"Joe Shafto bought the supplies for you, Mrs. Gray," the owner of the
store informed her after Grace had introduced herself and stated her
mission. "Joe packed the stuff home on the mules and said you'd pay for
it when you come along. That alright?"
"Perfectly so, and thank you ever so much. What is the excitement out
there?" with a nod towards the street.
"Jacks comin' in for the early work in the woods. The foremen are hirin'
'em here and sendin' 'em on to the different camps. The whole bunch is
just spoilin' for fight. Better not stir 'em up unless your crowd is
lookin' for trouble," advised the storekeeper.
"Oh, no. Nothing like that," laughed Grace Harlowe, laying the money for
their supplies on the counter. "Nothing wrong outside, is there, Hippy?"
she asked quickly as the lieutenant came in rather hurriedly.
"No. I'm after candy."
"That is fine. Buying candy for Nora and the girls," glowed Grace. "My
husband seldom thinks to bring me candy, and--"
"For Nora? No. I'm getting the candy for the bronco and the bull
pup--trying to buy my way into their good graces, as it were. Neither
one of them takes to the uproar in the street. The bronc' is threatening
to bolt, and Hindenburg has declared war on the lumberjack tribe
because one of them poked a stick in his ribs just now."
Grace, after thanking the storekeeper for his courtesy, went out
laughing, but the instant she stepped into the street she intuitively
sensed a change in the spirit of the crowd there. The jacks had fallen
silent in comparison with their previous uproarious attitude--sullen and
threatening, it seemed to her.
"What's wrong here, Elfreda?" she asked, stepping up beside Miss Briggs'
pony.
"A jack tried to pull Emma from her horse, probably out of mischief. Tom
jumped his pony over and knocked the fellow down with his fist. Three or
four others started for him. Tom rode one of them down and the others
ran into the crowd for protection. I think we are headed for trouble,"
prophesied J. Elfreda.
"Grace, where is Hippy?" called Tom Gray anxiously.
"In the store buying candy for the pup."
"Stand back, you fellows!" commanded Tom sternly as he discovered that
the jacks were crowding closer and closer to the little group of
horsewomen. "We don't mind sport so far as the men are concerned, but
you must let these young women alone. Hurry, Hippy!" he urged, as
Lieutenant Wingate appeared at the store door.
"Overland!" called Grace, which was the rallying hail of the Overland
Riders, and by which signal Lieutenant Wingate knew that all was not
well with his companions.
Hippy jumped from the store porch and strode to his pony.
"What is it?" he questioned sharply, taking Ginger's rein from Nora and
vaulting into his saddle to the accompaniment of joyous barks from
Hindenburg.
"Reckon these wild jacks are getting ready to rush us. Keep your eyes
peeled," warned Tom Gray.
"Here they come! Look out!" called Grace.
"Let go of my bridle, you ruffian!" they heard Anne Nesbit cry, and as
they looked they saw her bring down her riding crop across the face of a
lumberjack who had grasped her pony's bridle and was trying to separate
the animal from the others of the party.