TROUBLES NEVER COME SINGLY
“We have waited for Pokey’s arrival before making our first visit to
the ‘Chapel’ this year,” said Mrs. Lombard, when all were seated at the
dinner-table at one o’clock on Sunday.
“Haven’t you been up there at all this year?” she asked, for it was one
of her favorite spots.
“No; but John finished putting it in order yesterday afternoon and we
will all go up at about three o’clock.”
“Oh, splendid!” cried Denise. “I’ve got the loveliest book for you to
read, Pokey, and I’ll take dear old Tan and Ned. Tan can go up the hill
as easy as can be.”
Before long the whole party set out for the beautiful little woodland
retreat which went by the name of the Chapel because, during the summer
the family spent nearly every Sunday afternoon there, resting in the
hammocks, in the comfortable rustic seats, or stretched at length upon
the soft moss. Plenty of cushions were always carried, and a more
restful, soothing spot it would have been hard to find. The path led
through the fields up the hill and to the woods’ edge, and just within
it, where the view of the river was most charming, the seats had been
built. But between the previous late autumn days and this warm July
one, something else had been built, too, although the owner of the
property little suspected that squatters had taken possession of a
portion of this land. Possibly he would never have made the discovery
at all, had not his daughter and her pets brought it about. All were
toiling up the hill, burdened with their pet cushions, books, etc.,
with Denise in the lead, Tan on one side of her, and Ned on the other.
She had thrown an arm across each neck, and was saying, “Now ‘hay-foot,
straw-foot’” to teach them to keep in step. Not far behind came Pokey
upon “Mrs. Mamma’s” arm, for Pokey had not had time to get her climbing
wind yet, and the hill made her pant. Grandma was assisted by papa’s
arm, and all were “making haste slowly.”
“Hay-foot! Straw-foot! Hay-foot! S-t-r-a-w--Ohw-w-w-w-w!!!!!”
“Baa-a-a-a-a-a!” and a screeching neigh! Then pandemonium reigned for a
few moments, for the “straw-foot” no, _feet_, three of them! had been
planted fairly and squarely into a ground-hornet’s nest, and, in far
less time than it takes to tell about it, these “three musketeers” wore
yellow and brown uniforms, for the hornets literally covered them as a
garment. Mr. Lombard rushed to Denise’s rescue, or there is no telling
what her fate would have been, shouting to the others as he ran to fly
for their lives. Ned did not wait to be told, but tore down the hill
as though all the demons from the lower regions had attacked him, while
poor, stiff old Tan forgot all his stiffness and fled for “home and
peace” like any kid. But Mr. Lombard found his task no easy one, for
the enraged hornets were venting their wrath upon poor little Denise,
and he had actually to scrape them from her legs with a stick, only to
find them swarm upon the next unprotected spots and upon himself. At
last, in desperation, he rolled her in a rug he had brought with him,
and tore down the hill, mamma having fled at the first alarm to send
John to his assistance.
If you have ever been stung by even one hornet, you will know just
about a one-hundredth part of what Denise was enduring then, for some
of the hornets were still on her and Mr. Lombard.
John now came hurrying up, and, taking Denise from her father’s arms,
fled for home, leaving Mr. Lombard to dispose of his little enemies.
For a few hours there were lively scenes enacted in that home, for
while Mrs. Lombard and grandma, with Eliza the cook, and Mary the maid,
to help, administered all manner of home remedies to the sufferers,
John, mounted upon Flash, rushed for the doctor, and Pokey sat down and
quietly sobbed in one corner.
She had not been stung, but was filled with anxiety for Denise, and
heart-broken to see her suffer as she was suffering.
Dr. Swift was as good as his name, and came with all haste to give
relief, but it was many days before Denise could leave her room, and
Pokey was her greatest comfort, for the dear child cared for her as
she used to care for the invalid dolls. But before Denise could get
about again upon those poor swollen legs, something else happened which
almost reconciled the family to her having been so severely stung that
she was confined to her room.
Ned and Tan were not much the worse for their experience, for their
hair had been a protection, and a vigorous rolling in the dusty
road had produced a wonderfully pacifying effect upon those rampant
insects. After he had done all he could for the family, John turned
his attention to the pets, and had just made Tan comfortable and begun
upon Ned when he noticed a man standing by the fence and looking at the
pony as he brushed him and rubbed ointment where the stings were worst.
John gave a friendly nod, and said: “It’s lively work we’ve been havin’
these past two hours!”
“What’s happened?” asked the man.
John related the story, embellishing it, till the man might have
thought that Denise had retired in a garment made of hornets.
“Fine little beast, that,” said the man presently.
“You niver saw the loike of him in all your loife!” said John proudly.
“What will you take for him?”
“What’ll I take for him, is it, ye’re askin’? Faith he’s not mine to
sell, as ye well know, but ye’d better not be askin’ the master that
same.”
“What’s the boss’s name?”
“What’s that to you?” demanded John with some asperity, for he was
beginning to dislike the man.
“Say, I know a man who’ll give a cool two-fifty for him and never wink.”
“Well, he may save his offer, thin, for the boss paid three-fifty for
him not two year ago, and wouldn’t sell him for twice that, and don’t
you forgit it aither, me son.”
“Want ter make a deal? You git him to sell the little horse to my man
for what he paid fer him, an’ it’ll mean a fifty for you.”
But this was too much. “Who the divvil are ye, thin, I’d loike to know?
Get out av this, an’ if I catch ye about the place with yer blackguard
offers I’ll call the constable for ye as sure as iver me name’s John
Noonan,” and John advanced toward the fence with ire in his eyes.
“Did iver ye listen to sooch chake as that, me foin boy?” he asked his
small charge. “Don’t ye let it worry ye heart, me soon; it’s not goin’
to be sold out of _this_ home ye are! Not fer _no_ money!”
On Monday the circus gave another performance, and after that, in the
evening, crossed the river by special arrangement with the ferry-boat
and went upon its way.
As Pokey never drove Ned, he was not used at all on Monday, and at
eight o’clock had been locked in his little stable by John, and left,
as usual, to his dreams.
It was John’s custom to come early to his work, his own home being but
a short walk across the fields, and six o’clock usually found him at
the stable-door, to be greeted with welcoming neighs by the horses,
which had learned to love him, and by Denise’s pets, who found in John
a very faithful attendant. After opening up the big stable he went over
to the “Birds’ Nest,” and was surprised to find the door unlocked.
“Now who’s been that careless, I wonder,” he muttered.
Then, entering, he wondered not to hear Ned’s morning greeting. Filled
with an unaccountable misgiving, he hurried across the floor and looked
over the top of the door of the night-stall, but Ned was gone!
But even then the true situation did not dawn upon him, and he hurried
out to look all about the grounds and in every place Ned could possibly
have gone. But no Ned was to be found, and now, thoroughly alarmed, he
went to the kitchen to ask Eliza, who was just lighting her morning
fire, to call Mr. Lombard.
“Whatever has happened you?” demanded Eliza, looking up from her range.
“Ye look like ye’d seen a ghost.”
“The little horse is gone! I’ve hunted the place for him and can find
no trace of him,” answered John, in a distressed voice.
“The Lord save us! What will that dear child do?” cried Eliza in dismay.
“Go quick and call master,” was John’s answer.
“Don’t let this get to Miss Denise’s ears if it can possibly be
helped,” said Mr. Lombard when he and John had returned from a
fruitless search. “There may be some foundation for your suspicion
regarding that man who spoke to you on Sunday, and, coupled with what
Denise has told me about the circus-manager’s questions, I am forced
to admit that it does not look well. Go up to the village and ask Mr.
Stevens to come to me as quickly and as quietly as possible, for this
case needs both a lawyer and detectives. I will warn the others to keep
silent,” and with a very troubled face Mr. Lombard entered the house.
But all that day passed, and still others, without revealing a trace of
Ned. Inquiries set afoot came to naught. The circus had left at one A.
M., but Ned had not been among the ponies. If he were really stolen, as
Mr. Lombard was reluctantly compelled to believe, for that wise little
beast was not going to lose himself or stay away from home voluntarily,
those who tried to get him away must have used great skill, for
everybody in that town knew him.
The search had been on foot for three days when the thunderbolt fell
from the sky, dropped by Hart.
Mrs. Lombard, Denise, and Pokey were sitting in the former’s pleasant
room on Thursday morning when Hart called to Mrs. Lombard from the
bottom of the stairs, “Please may I speak with you a second?”
Mrs. Lombard hastened into the hall, for she was fearful that the
message pertained to Ned, and, even though the voice vibrated with
hope, she did not wish it to be heard by Denise unless it was the one
message she longed for. Hart had scoured the country on Pinto, but
thus far to no purpose. Half-way down the stairs Hart met her, and
whispered, as he supposed, in a low voice: “They think they have found
tracks of him because that man who spoke to John was seen away up on
Hook Mountain, and had come across the river in a great big boat, big
enough to carry Ned over in! And--”
“Hush!” whispered Mrs. Lombard, holding up a warning finger, but it
was too late. Over the railing hung a white little face, and a pair of
wild eyes looked beseechingly at her as Denise demanded: “_What_ do you
mean? Ned found? Traces of Ned? Where is he? What has happened? Tell me
right off.”