in here." And the boy waited with the new broom in his hand, expecting
every moment to see the door opened from the outside.
But nothing happened. Nothing at all. The children sat in perfect
silence for at least a half hour, and nothing more was heard. Watch
sniffed a little when Henry finally rolled the door open again. But he
then turned around three times and lay down beside Jess, apparently
satisfied at last.
Taking the dog's conduct as a sure guide, Henry composed himself for
sleep.
"It must have been a rabbit or something," he said to Jess.
The occupants of the freight car slept peacefully until morning.
AT HOME
Jess and Henry had a short committee meeting next morning before the
others awoke. It was agreed that nobody should be allowed to stray off
into the woods alone, not even the dog. And with much mystery Henry left
some orders with all of them, as to what they should build for him
during the morning.
"What for?" asked Benny.
"Shan't tell, old fellow," teased Henry. "You just build it, and you'll
see later."
So Henry walked briskly through the woods, feeling sure that the noise
in the night had been made by a rabbit.
Having no watch, Henry made a slight mistake by appearing at the young
doctor's door before eight o'clock. He was just in time to meet the
doctor coming in from a night call.
If Henry had not been so eager to begin work, he would have noticed how
the young man's dark eyes examined him from head to foot, even to his
plastered hair, wet with brook water. It was not the doctor who directed
his work, but the doctor's mother--the sweet-faced Mrs. McAllister,
whose heart was centered in her son and her vegetable garden.
Her heart warmed to the boy when she saw how carefully he thinned out
the carrots, which had been sadly neglected.
"I have been so busy," she declared, "that I have actually stayed awake
nights worrying about these carrots. There--see that?" She pulled out a
fairly good-sized carrot as she spoke. It had to come out, for it was
much too near its neighbors. In fact, when Henry had thinned out half a
row he had quite a little pile of eatable carrots, each as large as his
thumb. When Mrs. McAllister saw Henry deftly press the earth back again
around the carrots which remained standing, she left him quietly with a
smile. Here was a gardener whom she could trust.
Henry worked steadily in the hot sun, completing row after row of
carrots, parsnips, and onions. When the mill bells rang at noon he
worked on, without noticing that his employer was again watching him.
When he did at last notice her he asked her, smiling, what she wanted
done with the things he had pulled up.
"Oh, throw them away," she said indifferently. "Toss them over into the
orchard, and sometime we'll burn them when they get dry."
"Do you mind if I take them myself?" asked Henry, hesitatingly.
"Oh, no," said Mrs. McAllister cordially. "Have you chickens? That will
be fine."
Henry was thankful that she went right along without waiting for an
answer. But in a way he did have chickens, he thought.
"You must stop working now," she said. "Any time you want to do
something, there will be a place for you here." She gave him a dollar
bill, and left the delighted boy with the piles of precious little
vegetables. As long as Henry expected to return so soon, he hastily
selected an orderly bunch of the largest of the carrots and the smallest
of the onions. He added a few of the miniature parsnips for good
measure. They looked like dolls' vegetables. When Henry walked down the
drive with his "bouquet," he would have seen a face at the window if he
had looked up. But he did not look up. He was too anxious to get to the
little old man's shop and order his meat.
So it happened that Henry walked in upon his little family at about two
o'clock with all the materials for a feast. The feast could not be made
ready before night, Jess hastened to explain to Benny, who was perfectly
satisfied anyway with bread and milk in his pink cup.
"Your building is done," Benny informed his brother. "I builded lots of
it."
"He really did," agreed Violet, leading the way to the sunny open spot a
trifle behind the house. The "building" was a fireplace. With an
enormous amount of labor, the children had made quite a hollow at the
base of a rock. This was lined completely with flat stones. More flat
stones had been set on end to keep out the wind. On top of the stones
lay the most wonderful collection of firewood that you can imagine, all
ready to light. There were chips and bits of crumpled paper, pine cones,
and dry twigs. Beside the big rock was a woodpile. The children had
apparently been working like beavers all the morning. Jess had found a
heavy wire in the dump, and had fastened it between two trees. On the
wire the kettle swung merrily.
"Fine! Fine!" shouted Henry when he saw it. "I couldn't have done it so
well myself." And he honestly believed it.
"We have dinner at night, here," observed Jess impressively. "What did
you buy?"
When the girls saw the tiny vegetables they began with cries of delight
to cut them from their stalks with Henry's knife and a broken paring
knife. They scrubbed them in the "washtub," filled the kettle half full
of water from the "well," and proceeded in great excitement to cut the
raw meat into cubes. When this had been dropped into the kettle, Henry
lighted the fire. It burned frantically, as if it were trying to
encourage the stew to do its best. Violet laid the tin plate over the
top for a cover, and they all stood by to hear the first bubble. Soon
the savory stuff in the kettle began to boil in good earnest. Watch sat
down gravely near it, and gave an approving sniff at intervals.
"Keep it boiling," advised Henry as he departed again. "When I come home
tonight I'll bring some salt. And for mercy's sake, don't get on fire."
Violet pointed silently at the big teapot. The little girl had filled it
with water in case of emergency. "That's if Benny gets on fire," she
explained--"or Watch."
Henry laughed and went on his way happily enough. He wished he might
share the delightful task of keeping the fire going and sniffing the
stew, but when he found out his afternoon's duties, he changed his mind
abruptly.
"Think you can clean up this garage?" asked Dr. McAllister quizzically
when he appeared.
Henry flashed a look around the place, and met the young man's eyes with
a smile. It did need cleaning rather badly. When its owner purred out in
his high-powered little car, Henry drew a long breath and began in
earnest. He opened all the chests of drawers to begin with. Then he
arranged all the tools in the largest deep drawer, and with a
long-handled brush and a can of black paint that was nearly dry, he
labeled the drawer TOOLS with neat lettering. Another drawer he lettered
NAILS, and assorted its contents into a few of the many boxes that were
lying around. He folded up the robes he found, swept off the shelves and
arranged the oil cans in orderly ranks, sorted out innumerable pairs of
gloves, and then swept the floor. He washed the cement floor with the
hose, and while waiting for it to dry he rinsed his brushes in
turpentine.
To tell the truth, Henry had found a few things in the rubbish which he
had stored in his own pocket. The treasure consisted in this case of a
quantity of bent and rusty nails of all sizes, and a few screws and
nuts.
When Dr. McAllister returned at six o'clock he found Henry corking up
the turpentine and arranging the brushes on the shelf.
"My word!" he exclaimed, staring at his garage with his mouth open. Then
he threw back his head and laughed till his mother came down the walk to
see what the matter was.
"Look at my gloves, Mother," he said, wiping his eyes. "All mated up.
They never met each other before, that I remember."
Mrs. McAllister looked the garage over, and observed the newly labeled
drawers. Her son opened one of them, and looked at his four hammers.
"My tack hammer, Mother," he said, "your tack hammer, and two other
hammers! That last one I never expected to see again. If you can use it,
you may have it, my boy."
Now, it is no exaggeration to say that at that moment if Henry had been
asked what he wanted most of anything in the world he would have
answered without any hesitation whatever, "A hammer."
He accepted it gratefully, hardly able to stand still, so anxious was he
to put it into use on the hill he called home.
"Tomorrow's Sunday," said the doctor. "Shall I see you on Monday?"
"Oh, yes," replied Henry, who had lost all track of the days.
"The cherries need picking," said his new friend. "We could use any
number of cherry pickers, if they were as careful as you." He gave him
an odd look.
"Could you?" asked Henry eagerly. "I'll surely come down."
With that, he bade his friends good-by and started for home, richer by
another dollar, two doughnuts the cook had given him, a pocket full of
crooked nails, and the rest of the vegetables.
When he reached his freight-car home a delicious savor greeted him.
"Onions!" he shouted, running up to the kettle. The cook stood by and
took off the cover and put in the salt. It was absolutely the most
tantalizing odor that Henry had ever smelled. Years afterward Jess tried
to duplicate it with the same kettle, vegetables from the same garden
and all stirred with the same spoon, but it didn't equal this stew in
flavor.
"A ladle, as sure as I live!" gasped Henry. Jess had found a tin cup in
the dump, and fastened on a wooden handle with a bit of wire. And when
she ladled out four portions on four plates of all sizes, some of them
tin, and laid a spoon in each, the children felt that the world held no
greater riches. The tiny onions floated around like pearls; the carrots
melted in your mouth; and the shreds of meat were as tender as possible
from long boiling. A bit of bread in one hand helped the feast along
wonderfully. The little wanderers ate until they could eat no more.
"I have time before dark to make Benny's cart," observed Henry, biting a
crisp, sweet carrot.
"With my wheels?" asked Benny.
"Yes, sir, with your wheels," agreed Henry. "Only, when it's done,
you'll have to cart stones in it."
"Sure," said Benny with satisfaction. "Cart stones or _anything_."
"We'll need it in making the dam," explained Henry for the benefit of
his sisters. "Tomorrow's Sunday, so I shan't work down in the town. Do
you think it's all right to build the pool on Sunday, Jess?"
"I certainly do," replied Jess with emphasis. "We're just building the
dam so we can keep clean. I guess if Sunday is your only day off, it'll
be all right."
Henry's conscience was set at rest as he began with great delight to
hammer out his bent nails. He and Benny ran about finding pieces of wood
to fasten the wheels on. A visit to the dump was necessary at last, in
order to find just the right piece of timber for a tongue, but before it
was too dark to see, Henry had pounded the last nail in place and
trundled the flat cart back and forth just to see it go. The cart seemed
valuable enough to all of them to take into the house for the night. And
Henry could not afford to laugh at Benny for going to sleep with his
hand upon one of his precious wheels, for he himself had tucked his new
hammer under his pillow.
BUILDING THE DAM
Even a hammer makes a good pillow if one is tired enough, and the
freight-car family slept until the nine-o'clock church bells began to
ring faintly in the valley. There were at least a dozen churches, and
their far-away bells sounded sweetly harmonious in so many different
keys.
"They almost play a tune," said Violet, as she listened.
"I like music all right," replied Henry in a business-like way, "but I
for one shall have to get to work."
"This will be a good day to wash all the stockings," said Jess. "We'll
all be wading so much in the brook, anyway."
After breakfast the first thing Henry did was to survey, with critical
eyes, the spot they had chosen for a pool. It was a hollow about three
yards across. There were no stones in it at all.
"It's _big_ enough already," remarked Henry at last, "but it hasn't
enough water in it." He measured its depth with a stick. "We'll have to
guess at inches," he said.
"I have a little tape measure in my workbag," ventured his sister
Violet.
Henry flashed a smile at her. "Is there anything you _haven't_ got in
your workbag?" he asked her.
The children measured the wet stick carefully. The water was just ten
inches deep in the deepest part.
Henry explained his plan of engineering to his sisters. "We will have to
haul some big logs across this narrow part and stuff them from this end
with stones and underbrush. It ought to be three feet deep before we get
through."
"O Henry!" protested Jess. "Benny would get drowned."
"Drowned!" echoed Henry. "How tall do you think he is, anyhow?"
They measured the little boy and found him to be forty-two inches tall.
That settled it; the pool was designed to be three feet in depth.
Luckily the largest logs were not far away; but as it was, it was a
matter of great labor for the builders to drag them to the scene of
operations.
"Let's get all the logs up here first," suggested Jess. "Then we can
have the fun of laying them across."
The two older children dragged all the logs, while Violet and Benny
attended to the stones, with the help of the cart. Occasionally Henry
was called upon to assist with a heavy stone, but for the most part
Benny puffed out his cheeks and heaved the stones himself. In fact,
Henry decided at this point to let Benny drop them into the water as he
gathered them. "Splash 'em right in, old fellow," he directed. "Only
keep them in a nice straight line right across this place between these
two trees. It won't make any difference how wet he gets," he added in an
aside to Jess. "We can dry him in the sun."
Jess thought a little differently, although she said nothing. She took
off Benny's little crinkled blouse and one pair of bloomers, and started
to hang them on the line.
"Good time to wash them!" she exclaimed.
"Let me wash them," begged Violet. "You're more useful building the
dam." There was wisdom in this suggestion, so Jess accepted it
gratefully, and even added Henry's blouse to the laundry.
"When we finish the dam they will surely be dry," she said.
As for Henry, he was only too glad to work without it. "Makes me feel
lighter," he declared.
Rare and beautiful birds came and watched the barefooted children as
they scurried around, building their wall of masonry. But the children
did not have any eyes for birds then. They watched with delighted eyes
as each stone was added to the wall under the clear water, and it began
to rise almost to the surface.
"That makes a solid foundation for the logs, you see," explained Henry
with pride. "They won't be floating off downstream the minute we lay
them on."
Then at last the time arrived when they were to lay the logs on.
"Let's wedge the first one between these two trees," said Jess, with a
happy thought. "Then if each end of the log is on the upper side of the
trees, the harder the water pounds the tighter the dam gets."
"Good work!" exclaimed Henry admiringly. "That's just what we'll do."
But the children were not at all prepared for what happened the moment
the first big log was splashed into its place on top of the stone wall.
The water, defeated in its course down the rocky bed, gurgled and chased
about as it met the opposing log, and found every possible hole to
escape.
"Leaks," said Henry briefly, as the water began to rush around both ends
and pour over the top of the log. "We'll make the logs so thick it
_can't_ get through. We'll lay three logs across, with three logs on top
of them, and three more on top of that."
The children set about stubbornly to accomplish this. Violet held great
sprays of fine underbrush in place until each log was laid. Wetter
children never were seen. But nobody cared. They resolutely plugged the
ends with more stones, more underbrush, and more logs. Each time a leak
was discovered, someone dropped a stone over it. Even Benny caught the
fever of conquering the mischievous water which slipped from their grasp
like quicksilver.
When the three top logs were at last dropped into place, the excited
children sat down to watch the pool fill. This it did slowly.
Finding now no means of exit, the water was quieter. It rose steadily
up the barricade of logs. It widened beautifully. Henry could not sit
still. "It slopes!" he cried. "See how clear it is! And still! See how
still it is!"
And then the water began to overflow the logs. It spilled over the top
with a delightful curve. And on the other side it formed a second
waterfall--not high and narrow and graceful like the natural fall above,
but very low and wide. "Just like a regular mill dam," said Henry.
He held the measuring stick out as far as he could and plunged it into
the water. It lacked an inch of being three feet deep.
"Deep enough," he declared.
In fact it looked so deep that Benny could not conceal a slight fear.
"That's the beauty of the slope," observed Jess. "Benny can wade in just
as far as he wants to, and no farther. We all know what the bed of the
pool is like--no holes or stones."
The girls had to leave to prepare dinner, but Henry could not be
persuaded to leave the wonderful swimming pool. "I'd rather swim than
eat," he said.
Luckily for the children, their supply of provisions was the largest of
any day since their flight. The girls lighted the fire and heated up the
remainder of the stew and cut the bread. The butter, hard and cold in
the refrigerator, was taken out, and four portions cut from it. The two
doughnuts made four half rings for dessert.
The cooks rang the dinner bell. This was an ingenious arrangement hung
on a low branch. It consisted of a piece of bent steel swung on a
string. Violet hit it sharply with another piece of steel. It sounded
deeply and musically through the woods, and the boys understood it and
obeyed at once.
It was evident the moment they appeared that at least three of the
family had been swimming. Watch shook himself violently at intervals,
spattering water drops in all directions. Henry and Benny, fresh and
radiant, with plastered hair and clean dry stockings and blouses,
apparently liked to swim and eat, too.
"You can actually swim a few strokes in it, Jess, if you're careful,"
Henry said, with excusable pride, as he sat down to dinner.
Building a dam is wonderful sauce for a dinner. "I think stew is much
better the second day," observed Benny, eating hungrily.
There remained two more adventures for the eventful day. The girls cut
their hair. Violet's dark curls came off first. "They're awfully in the
way," explained Violet, "and so much trouble when you're working."
They were tangled, too, and Jess cut them off evenly by a string, with
Violet's little scissors. Jess' chestnut hair was long and silky and
nicely braided, but she never murmured as it came off too. The two girls
ran to the brook mirror to see how they looked. The new haircut was very
becoming to both.
"I like you better that way," said Henry approvingly. "Lots more
sensible when you're living in the woods."
Around four o'clock the children took a long walk in the opposite
direction from any of their other explorations. They were rewarded by
two discoveries. One was a hollow tree literally filled with walnuts,
gathered presumably by a thrifty squirrel the previous fall. The other
discovery frightened them a little just at first. For with bristling
back and a loud bark, Watch suddenly began to rout out something in the
leaves, and that something began to cackle and half run and half fly
from the intruders. It was a runaway hen. The children succeeded in
catching the dog and reducing him to order, although it was clear he
liked very much to chase hens.
"She had some eggs, too," remarked Benny as if trying to make pleasant
conversation.
Jess bent over incredulously and saw a rude nest in the moss in which
there were five eggs.
"A runaway hen!" said Henry, hardly believing his eyes. "She wants to
hide her nest and raise chickens."
The children had no scruples at all about taking the eggs.
"Almost a gift from heaven," said Violet, stroking one of the eggs with
a delicate finger. "It wouldn't be polite to refuse them."
Scrambled eggs made a delicious supper for the children. Jess broke all
the eggs into the biggest bowl and beat them vigorously with a spoon
until they were light and foamy. Then she added milk and salt and
delegated Violet to beat them some more while she prepared the fire. The
big kettle, empty and clean, was hung over the low fire and butter was
dropped in. Jess watched it anxiously, tipping the kettle slightly in
all directions. When the butter had reached the exact shade of brown,
Jess poured in the eggs and stirred them carefully, holding her skirts
away from the fire. She was amply repaid for her care when she saw her
family attack the meal. Clearly this was a feast day.
"We shall have to be satisfied tomorrow to live on bread and milk," she
observed, scraping up the last delicious morsel.
But when tomorrow came they had more than bread and milk, as you will
soon see.
CHERRY PICKING
Henry meditated awhile all to himself early the next morning as to
whether he ought to take any one with him for the cherry picking. "He
certainly said he could use more than one," he mused.
Failing to decide the question, he laid it before his sisters as they
ate bread and milk for breakfast.
"I can't see any reason, except one, why we shouldn't all go," said
Jess.
"What's that?" asked Henry.
"Well, you see there are four of us, and supposing grandfather is
looking for us, it will be easier to find four than one."
"True," agreed Henry. "But supposing we went down the hill and through
the streets two by two? And you took Watch?"
It was finally agreed that Henry and Benny would attract very little
attention together; Violet and Jess would follow with the dog, who would
trace Henry. And so they set out. They took down the clothesline and
closed the car door. Everything instantly looked as lonesome as heart
could wish. Even the merry little brook looked deserted.
When the children arrived at the McAllister orchard they soon saw that
they were not the only workers. Two hired men and the young doctor
himself were carrying ladders and baskets from the barn, and the Irish
cook was bringing piles of square baskets from the house--the kind that
strawberries are sold in.
"The girls can pick cherries as well as I can," said Henry, introducing
his sisters. "Benny ought not to climb very tall trees, but we had to
bring him."
"Benny can carry the baskets, perhaps," suggested the doctor, much
amused. "You see, this is a cherry year, and we have to work quickly
when we once begin. Perhaps he could fill the small baskets from the big
ones."
It was a "cherry year," certainly. There were two varieties in the
orchard, the pale yellow kind with a red cheek, and the deep crimson
ones which were just as red in the center as they were on the outside.
The red ones were huge, bursting with juice, and the trees were laden
full with the luscious fruit. Even the air was perfumed.
It was a pretty sight that the doctor finally turned his back upon when
he went on his calls. Henry, slim, tanned, and graceful, picked rapidly
from the tallest ladder in the largest tree. The two girls in their
sensible bloomer suits could climb like cats. They leaned against the
ladders easily about halfway up, their fluffy short hair gleaming in the
sun. Benny trotted to and fro, waiting upon the busy pickers, his cheeks
as red as the cherries themselves.
"Eat all you want," Dr. McAllister called back. They did not really obey
this command, but occasionally a set of white teeth bit into one of the
glorious oxhearts.
In less than an hour Benny had made five firm friends. The hired men
joked with him, the cook petted him, the young doctor laughed at him
delightedly, and sweet Mrs. McAllister fell in love with him. Finally he
seated himself comfortably at her side under the trees and filled square
boxes with great care under her direction.
"I never had such a cheerful crowd of cherry pickers before," Mrs.
McAllister said at last. "I'd much rather stay out here than go into the
house where it is cool."