A TOURNAMENT WITH PETE
As Aunt Sarah prophesied, the boys thawed out in a few days, but did
not promise by their manner to offer any real companionship. Mary Lee
made a point of avoiding them while Nan was perfectly indifferent, and
only Jean went out of her way to be agreeable.
"I think they're horrid," complained Mary Lee. "Just because they
have a finer house than this one and their father has been some high
muck-a-muck they think they can look down on us."
"I don't believe they look down exactly; I think it's because we are
girls, and they're not used to playing with girls. We belong to the
same family and it isn't anything much to be a Congressman. I'm sure
they're polite enough."
"But they're not a bit like Phil," replied Mary Lee who measured all
boys by that standard.
"It's because they're not used to girls," insisted Nan; "that's what
Aunt Sarah says, and Phil has been used to us ever since he was born."
"But Phil says they're stuck up," persisted Mary Lee, "and a boy ought
to know."
"Oh, well, who cares?" returned Nan. "I'm sure I don't, and I don't
want boys tagging after me wherever I go," which was something of a
fling at Mary Lee who generally preferred Phil's company to that of any
of her sisters.
It was Phil, after all, who did bring about a better understanding
between the cousins, so that all spent many a holiday in common. It was
one Saturday when Phil came over to propose a "sure-enough" tournament,
that the fun commenced. He had his own horse and proposed to beg,
borrow or--
"Not steal one for me," interrupted Mary Lee.
"I'll get one some way," said Phil. "We must have more than one to
enter the lists. The more the better."
As a tournament was sufficiently romantic to appeal to Nan she eagerly
put in, "I'll be a knight."
"What'll you ride?" asked Mary Lee.
"Pete."
Phil tumbled back on the grass with a shout of laughter, for Pete was
the old mule which Unc' Landy used for all farming purposes. He was
aged, half blind and evilly disposed, so his entering a contest like a
tournament seemed the height of absurdity.
"You laugh mighty soon," retorted Nan. "Maybe you reckon I can't ride
Pete. I can do more with him than any one."
"I think he'd be lots of fun," said Phil, sitting up, his eyes
twinkling with mirth. "I'll bring Lightfoot and maybe I can get sister
Polly's mare for Mary Lee."
"Oh, I'd love that," cried Mary Lee, enthusiastically. "Who'll be the
spectators?"
"We don't need any except the kids. Jack and Jean will do," returned
Phil. "We'll just ride for the fun of the thing, you see."
"We can have a make-believe audience," said Nan eagerly. "I'd love
that. Where can we have it, Phil?"
"Oh, over in the field, back where the road comes in."
"How about rings? We must have rings."
"One will do. We can't expect to have many. I can fix up one over the
gate and if we take that we shall do well."
"That will be a fine place," said Nan, hugging her knees. "Go 'long,
Phil, and get your horses and I'll see about Pete. Unc' Landy isn't
using him to-day."
Phil went off with a chuckle, promising to return in half an hour, and
Nan flew to the house. It was her intention to outdo them all in the
matter of costume. Phil had declared his intention of tying some sort
of sash around his waist and of wearing his brother Tom's Rough Rider
hat with a feather in it. Mary Lee said she would put on a red jacket
and tie a silk handkerchief around her head.
"I'll get up something," said Nan evasively. She might not have the
swiftest steed but she could have the grandest costume. Whatever Nan
went into, she did with all her heart and her enthusiasm went to full
lengths whenever she entered any contest.
Nan had the faculty of mentally placing objects in their relative
places once she had seen them, and on her way to the house she quickly
made an inventory of those things she should need. First there was
Jack's plaid skirt; it would about come to her knees. A pair of
leathern leggings her mother had worn as part of her riding costume
when a girl, she remembered seeing in a trunk in the attic. In this
same trunk, to her satisfaction, she came across some strips of plaid
like the skirt; these she considered a great find and bore them
down-stairs with the leggings.
Having arrayed herself in a green shirt-waist, the plaid skirt and the
leggings, Nan rummaged among her treasures to find an old cairngorm pin
which had belonged to her Grandmother Lee, and which her mother had
once given her as a birthday gift, lacking anything new. Fashioning
the plaid strips into a scarf by pinning the longer ones together,
she fastened them at the shoulder with the pin. Then her deft fingers
contrived from some stiff paper, a sort of Scotch cap. She gave this a
coat of shoe polish which dried quickly, and as a finishing touch she
pinned to it a long peacock feather which some one had once given her.
When all was ready Nan surveyed herself in the glass with much pride.
Her ideas had been gleaned from some pictures of Highland costumes
which she had often seen at her Cousin Mag's, and she had determined to
take the name of the Knight of Snowdoun, knowing and loving well her
"Lady of the Lake."
On her way from the house she stopped in the pantry and took three
apples from the barrel standing there. One of these she carefully
pared and slipped the paring into her pocket; the others she took with
her to the stable yard where old Pete stood, his head over the fence.
She rubbed his nose gently and gave him the pared apple. If there was
anything Pete loved, it was apples, and with these as a reward Nan knew
she could do anything with him, and indeed he allowed her to adjust his
bridle and to strap a folded horse blanket upon him and to mount him
easily, a bit of apple being the recompense for such amiable behavior.
As Nan rode in state out of the yard in the direction of the field,
Ashby Gordon saw her and was fascinated by her appearance.
"What are you going to do?" he called after her.
Nan flashed him a merry look over her shoulder, but made no reply.
There was something entirely too enticing in the possibilities her
looks presented and Ashby's curiosity got the better of him. He ran
to find Randolph. "Come on, Ran," he said. "I wish you'd see Nan. She
looks stunning and she's riding old Pete somewhere. Come on."
More impressed by Ashby's manner than his words, Randolph followed his
brother. As they went out they caught sight of Nan just disappearing
down the road behind the barn. A dip in the hill hid her from view
in another moment, but they determined to take the same direction to
see what was going on. Arriving upon the scene, they found Phil on
Lightfoot, Mary Lee riding her Cousin Polly's Beauty, and the twins
seated as spectators.
"What's going on?" asked Randolph.
"A tournament," said Phil. "There is the grandstand if you want to look
on."
"Oh, but I'd like to be in it, if I only had my horse here," said Ran.
"So would I," put in Ashby. "My! but Nan looks great. What are you,
Nan?"
"I'm the Knight of Snowdoun, Mary Lee is the Knight of the Red Jacket
and Phil is the Knight of Morro Castle because he is wearing a Rough
Rider hat."
"It's rather too big," said Phil. "I've got to take a reef in it."
"We've only one ring," said Nan, "but we have a large assemblage to
look on. The Goldenrod family are nearly all here. The Oaks are out in
force and the Maples are dressed up in their gayest clothes, you see."
Ran looked at her with more interest than he had ever shown. "I say,"
he remarked, "you look like the real thing. Who's your herald?"
"Oh, we haven't any. Phil is going to call out: 'Prepare to charge,'
and 'Charge,' unless," she said graciously, "you'd like to do it."
"I'd like it first-rate," said Ran heartily.
"All right. That will help us out finely, won't it, Phil?"
To which Phil replied: "It will make it more real, I reckon."
"The other two had selected their ladies before I reached here," said
Nan, "so if I win I'll have to crown a make-believe. The crown is of
red maple leaves. Jean is making it now."
"If you win," said Mary Lee contemptuously, being rather put out at the
appearance of the Gordon boys upon the scene.
"Yes, Miss High-and-Mighty," returned Nan. "Because you have the best
mount, you needn't think you're going to have it all your own way. It
isn't the riding; it's the taking the ring. Two out of three goes.
Where are the lances, Phil?"
Phil produced three long straight poles made from saplings, sharpened
at the end, and soon all three knights were mounted and in line. But
just before the herald uttered his first call, Nan lowered her lance,
drew from her pocket a piece of apple paring and tied it upon the pole.
"What in the world are you doing?" cried Phil.
"I'm doing this to make Pete go," was the answer. "If he smells this,
he'll try to run for it."
"That's not fair," cried Mary Lee.
"It is, isn't it, boys? When she has the best horse she ought to let me
do it, I think," declared Nan.
"Oh, there wouldn't anything make that old creature go," said Phil
disparagingly. "He always sleeps while Unc' Landy has him in the
plough, and I reckon he'll do it now. Let her tole him on any way she
likes, Mary Lee; it will be more fun."
The Knight of the Red Jacket was the first to start, but with such
impetus did her steed go that it took all her wits to hold in the
spirited mare and her lunge at the ring brought no result.
Nan came next. Pete, with the apple paring dangling within a foot of
his nose, got up his best speed and galloped with noble effort to
overtake this tid-bit.
"Good boy, Pete," cried Ashby, clapping his hands, and the sly old
mule, as if understanding, dashed along at a rate which surprised every
one. Nan had ridden him bare-back too often not to know his paces and
though he had never before taken quite such a gait she was secure in
her faith in him and actually took the ring, laughing as she slipped
down and offered Pete the bit of apple paring.
"I told you it was skill and not paces," said she as she came back.
Phil was the next, and he, too, took the ring.
"It's not fair," pouted Mary Lee. "If you had this horse, you'd go so
fast you couldn't see anything."
"I'll change with you," cried Nan quickly.
"Suppose you do that," proposed Ran. "Then each one will have a fair
test. Nan can ride Mary Lee's mare next time and Phil can take Pete.
Then the third time Phil can ride the mare, Mary Lee can ride Pete, and
Nan Lightfoot; that will give every one an equal test."
Mary Lee objected to this, mainly because Ran had proposed it, but the
others overruled her and so it was arranged, Nan a second time coming
off victorious, Phil knocking the ring from its place and Mary Lee
scoring not at all.
The third time no one won for Pete absolutely refused to carry Mary
Lee. He planted his feet obstinately and firmly and when urged by
repeated blows from Ashby at the rear, kicked out so viciously that
Ashby speedily got out of the way. So Nan and Mary Lee were obliged to
change back again, but even then Mary Lee was no more successful, for
by this time Pete's temper had been tried beyond pacifying and he was
sulky. No amount of coaxing would urge him to go faster than a slow
walk, so it was decided to lead him aside and Nan made her third essay
upon Phil's horse, without taking a ring. However, as it was, the odds
were in her favor, for she had outdistanced her rivals and had shown
herself the most expert in the tourney. Therefore, it was she who was
to bestow the crown upon her chosen lady.
[Illustration: THE TOURNAMENT]
"You might take one of us," said Jack wistfully, who longed to be queen
of Love and Beauty.
"I wish I could, but you didn't wear my colors and I can't offend a
brother knight or we might have a joust which would end in bloodshed,"
said Nan seriously, swinging the wreath of red and yellow leaves upon
her lance. "I'm sure I don't want to give offense," she added.
Jack looked disappointed. "I thought, of course, you'd choose me, Nan,"
she said.
"I will next time. We'll try it again some day, and this time Phil can
crown you as a maid of honor."
This satisfied Jack who felt that to be the only lady to wear a crown
was sufficient honor.
Nan stood swinging her wreath and looking uncertainly around the
field. Upon a tall bramble a single spray of white shone out, the bush
evidently having miscalculated the season and having imagined that it
was still summer. "Ah, my Lady Bramble," cried Nan, "I will crown you,
for you must have expected something unusual or you wouldn't be showing
yourself at this time of year." And she flung her garland over the
bramble bush.
But just here their play was interrupted by a voice at the fence,
saying, "Who got dat mewl?"
Nan ran toward Unc' Landy who looked at her in disapproving surprise.
"What all dis? Dis ain' no way fo' young ladies to dress. None o' de
fambly evah done disher way 'scusin' dey goes to er ball."
"It's a tournament, Unc' Landy, and I took the ring," cried Nan
joyously. "You ought to have seen Pete run the first time, but he was
awfully obstinate at the last."
"Pete? You ain' ride dat ole mewl to no tournymint?"
"Yes, I did and he ran, really he did. I'll tell you why." And Nan told
how she had lured on the old creature by the odor of apples.
At this story all Unc' Landy's disapproval vanished and he burst into
a loud guffaw. "I say yuh meks him run," he cried. "I knows now how to
git wuk outen him."
"Oh, but you mustn't fool him," said Nan. "I gave him the apple
afterward. It would never do to make him run that way every day or he'd
die in his tracks."
"He sholy would ef he keep up dat gait. Come erlong hyar, yuh ole fool
creetur. Whafo' yuh kickin' up yo' heels lak yuh young an' frolicsome?
I knows yo' age. Come on hyar." And he led off the old mule while every
now and then he doubled over with mirth, repeating: "I say run."
"It was great fun," declared Ran. "I didn't know girls ever did such
things."
"We do," returned Nan. "We do all sorts of things and mother
doesn't care so long as it isn't actually wrong. She likes us to be
out-of-doors. We girls play baseball and do lots of things like that."
"Nan won't always play," complained Mary Lee. "She gets too young
ladyish sometimes and goes off somewhere to mope."
"I don't mope," returned Nan, "but there are other things I like to do.
I don't like boys' games all the time, only sometimes. I don't like to
go fishing because I hate squirming worms on hooks, and I feel sorry
for poor gasping fish."
"Oh, but we have to have them for food," said Ashby.
"I know we do, but I'd rather not do the catching. I'll let you do
that," she added laughing.
They were all on thoroughly good terms by this time and since the
afternoon was not over, they took turns in riding, Ran showing himself
so expert as to pick up his cap from the ground while going at full
speed. He was able, too, to ride standing, bareback or any other way,
winning great applause for his cow-boy acts.
"I believe I'll ask father to let us have our horses up here," he said.
"It would be no end of comfort and if we had some kind of trap we
could take you girls off on long drives."
"We have an old phaeton," said Nan; "it's rather dingy looking, but
that is all that is the matter with it, and there is the sleigh. We
don't need either since we sold the horses, but mother doesn't like to
part with them for the small price we could get for them and she says
maybe some day we can afford to keep a horse."
"We must surely see about having our horses here," repeated Ran, and
that very night he wrote home to his father to make the request.
A week later the horses arrived and were stabled near-by. Polly Lewis
was generous enough to send her mare to one of the girls once in a
while and so many a long and delightful ride did the cousins have.
Sometimes several of them would pile into the old phaeton and sometimes
two would go horseback and the rest would drive. Strange to say,
though Mary Lee was so much less impetuous than Nan, and fonder of
boys' sports, she sat a horse less well and was never the graceful and
fearless rider that Nan was, though many a girl might have envied even
her good seat and steady hand.
There were other tourneys, too, when Randolph generally was victor
and crowned Jean who was his special favorite, thus causing pangs of
jealousy in Jack's ambitious heart. Nan, seeing this, resolved to
do her best for Jack's sake and practiced so diligently that once
Ran's successes rendering him careless, she actually did take the
championship from him and to Jack's great delight, crowned this little
sister, making a flowery speech as she did so.
Aunt Sarah smiled contemptuously at these performances which she called
"fool nonsense," but since the children kept well, were not in bad
company, and did not neglect their school duties, she did not forbid
them their exciting plays. After the arrival of the horses belonging
to the Gordon boys, Pete was not again expected to play the part of a
curvetting steed, but was allowed to rest on his laurels.
[Illustration: CHAPTER VIII
THE SUNSET-TREE]