PEGGY DESCENDS
Elizabeth, Dalton and Leslie Secrest were intelligent young people of
some culture and background, though that impression might not always be
given when Dalton or Leslie fell into the modern school vernacular.
Elizabeth, two years out of college, was more careful, inasmuch as she
was teaching drawing and other lines of school art to children and was
also the head of their little family.
It had all happened very suddenly, the death of the parents and the
plunge into partial self-support. Interest from the invested life
insurance furnished part of their income, and what Elizabeth called her
"munificent salary" the rest. Dalton earned enough outside of school
hours to help considerably. Elizabeth had insisted that he must finish
high school and now thought that he should take enough of their
principal to see him through college. This was a subject of argument
between them, for Dalton considered that out of the question. He had
just been graduated from high school and had prevailed upon his sister
to take the money for this adventure, particularly with the purpose of
finding out how valuable the property was for a possible sale.
Plans were all a little vague, but when the doctor ordered Beth
somewhere for change and rest, Leslie and Dalton executed the whole
affair, with Beth's advice and assistance. Enthusiasm had grown when
they came upon a letter outlining their father's plans for building what
he called the "Eyrie" and now that they were here, seeing upon the spot
their few but beautiful acres, and the limitless sea by which they lay,
values went up, mentally at least.
Beth of the "burnished locks," was not beautiful, but her golden-brown
hair crowned a delicate face with fairly regular features, steady blue
eyes, dreamy when they had a chance to dream, and a sensitive mouth. She
was slight and of medium height, twenty-three at her next birthday.
Dalton, eighteen on the day of his graduation, was most fortunately a
tall, strong lad, with a very practical turn. Vocational training had
fostered this and young as he was, Dalton expected, with some help, to
build a very respectable log cabin from the timber on the place. His
last two vacations had been spent in helping a carpenter and small
contractor. While his experience might not apply to handling logs, it
would help.
Leslie, like Dalton, was more of the brunette type, though not dark.
Brown hair and lashes, grey eyes, good features with a pleasing mouth,
laughing or firm as circumstances might demand, were her assets. She was
taller at not quite sixteen than her older sister, and according to her
own statement could not "draw a crooked line"; but she could play on
ukelele or guitar as well as on the piano at home, and she and Sarita
knew all the songs, old and new, that their generation afforded.
Sarita, brown-haired, brown-eyed, demure, pretty, half a head shorter
than Leslie and a few months younger, was the fortunate one of the party
in having a father. An easy-going step-mother let Sarita do very much as
she pleased, a delightful, though not altogether safe method of
management. But Sarita's pleasures were always harmless ones and
included those of her chum Leslie. Both girls were active, energetic and
capable, with many an enthusiastic scheme or ambition originating in
their fertile minds. Dalton sometimes called them the "self-starters."
After a trip with Dalton to view the little lake and to help him bring
water from the spring, the girls spent the morning of the second day in
arranging their camp quarters. Elizabeth, when challenged to bring forth
her curtains for their "dresser," surprised Leslie and Sarita by
producing them, deep ruffles that had once graced some home-made
dressing table. "They were in a trunk in the attic," Beth explained,
"and I thought that we could use them here in the Eyrie, if it ever gets
built."
The cots, trunks and the beruffled box took up most of the room in the
larger tent, but some perishable supplies were stored there; and Dalton
set about making what the girls called a chicken coop, to keep their
boxes of food stuffs from harm, all to be covered with a huge piece of
waterproofing.
While he was doing this, he had an opportunity to tell Leslie and Sarita
about his inquisitive visitor of the evening before. He described the
man and gave details of the conversation.
"What do you suppose he meant, Dal?" asked Sarita in some excitement,
her brown eyes growing larger. Leslie, too, was alert, scenting some
secret.
"Oh, I imagine that there is a bit of rum-running, perhaps," replied
Dalton, driving another nail. "We'd probably better take his advice
about minding our own business, though I will admit that it made me hot
to have a chap like that laying down the law. I'll make a few inquiries
among the fishermen. I've got to see about getting a boat, too. I
wouldn't do this, but we have to make our stuff safe from rain or little
foragers. What a waste of time it is to work here, Sarita."
"Yes, it is. Poor you, Dal--let's not have an Eyrie."
"Oh, I'll like building that, when I get at it. It isn't going to take
so long, when the materials come and the man who is to help me comes
with his helpers. I'm going through the woods some time to-day to mark
the trees that I want."
"Don't take the big lovely ones, Dal," said Leslie.
"No, I'll not. I shall select the trees with less symmetrical limbs or
placed where thinning out will be good."
"Do you know all about old-fashioned 'log-raising,' Dal?" Sarita asked.
"No, I don't know 'all' about anything, Sairey, but this man helps build
the new-fangled log houses that they have in the north woods, so I have
hopes. There! That's finished!"
"Look, Dal," suddenly Leslie said in a low voice, and Dalton turned to
see a gentleman riding among the trees and coming toward them.
The little camp had been placed back a short distance in the grove,
where a more open space occurred, with smaller trees and bushes. It had
pleased Elizabeth here, though she said that she was being cut off from
a view of the sea. But it was better so, more retired, and the smaller
trees were, safer neighbors in a storm than the tall ones. Lovely ferns,
vines entwining the trees, and wild flowers grew about them.
Beth was in the tent, still straightening and unpacking but the three
outside watched the pretty horse and its straight rider. The gentleman
dismounted, fastened the horse to a tree, and walked toward them.
"Good morning," he said, and the young people returned the greeting.
Everything was in perfect taste about the riding costume, Leslie
noticed. The gentleman rather nervously flexed a small whip in his
gloved hands and looked sharply with keen black eyes from one to
another, addressing Dalton in particular. "I am told that you have
purchased this place and are about to build a house of some sort upon
it."
"Yes, sir. My father bought the ground something over two years ago."
"Are you sure that the purchase was completed?"
"Yes, sir. We hold the deed and I preserved the check that my father
gave for the land, when we came across it in going through his papers."
"Where is the deed?" The gentleman spoke a little abruptly, Leslie
thought. Who in the world could he be?
"The deed is in the bank at home, but I suppose if you want to assure
yourself of our right here, you could consult the records here. I'm not
sure just where the place is where the deed was recorded, but my sister
will know. Leslie, please ask Beth to come."
"That is not necessary," impatiently their caller said. "I am sorry to
tell you, but I am quite sure that your title is not clear. I understood
that this land belonged to me. It is certainly included in the
description upon the deed that I hold."
"It is very strange," said Dalton. "I think that you must be mistaken.
When did you purchase the land to which you refer?"
Leslie was proud of Dalton. He talked just like Father and was so
dignified and nice without being "mad."
The gentleman hesitated. "It is part of a tract which I acquired some
time ago. If I were, you I would not go on building, for I should
certainly not sell this land on the bay. It is too bad, but why can you
not look up a camp at some other place upon the coast? I know of several
excellent places to be purchased at a low price. Indeed, considering the
matter from your standpoint, I might part with a strip of land some
forty miles from here for merely a nominal price."
The man was almost fascinating when he smiled in this persuasive way,
Sarita was thinking, but why so suave and urgent?
Dalton smiled. "If I have to prove that I own it, so do you," he said,
"and I think that I will not consider anything else just now. Perhaps it
would be just as well not to go on with the building, though I have
already ordered some material. If this should prove to be your land, I
will pay you for occupancy, but we'll just continue to camp here. My
older sister is very tired after her teaching and likes this place. My
father's plans were all made and we expect to carry them out in part.
But we will not destroy anything, and I will not cut down the trees that
I intended until we look into the matter at the courthouse."
That this did not please the gentleman was quite evident. He frowned. "I
should like you to leave at once," he said at last.
"I do not intend to leave at once, sir," sharply said Dalton. "May I ask
your name?"
"Yes. I am the owner of Steeple Rocks and have my summer home there. I
should advise you to leave. My name is Ives. I am wondering if you are
yet of age. I understand that your father is not living?"
"No, I am not of age, and it is true that my father is not living."
"Who, then, is the executor of your estate?"
"My sister is executrix, the older one. We have a friend, though, who is
our lawyer whenever we need one. If necessary, I can write to consult
him about this; but you can easily find out whether or not our deed is
recorded."
"That is not the question, young man. The question is whether the man of
whom your father bought the land had any right to it. You will avoid
trouble if you leave the place. My lawyer will look into the matter. A
few days, of course, will make no difference. There is a truck on my
place which I should be willing to lend you for the transfer."
With a business-like air, Mr. Ives took a card from his pocket and wrote
something upon it with a shining gold pencil. Dalton, Leslie and Sarita
watched him with various expressions. Dalton's face was firm and sober.
Leslie's eyes were contracted a little as if she were sizing up a
suspicious character. Sarita wore a look of bright interest. This was an
adventure.
Handing the card to Dalton, Mr. Ives said, "That is the name of the
little village where I can permit you to camp, or can offer you land
with a clear title. One reason that we like this place is its
comparative isolation and we want to keep our holding large and intact.
But you would doubtless enjoy more companionship and that you will find
in the other community. The homes are scattered, however, and the beach
and views are beyond criticism. As I said, in view of your
disappointment about this, I can afford to be generous."
Dalton glanced at the address on Mr. Ives' personal and listened to what
was said. "I see your point, Mr. Ives," he replied, "but none of us
intend in any way to disturb the quiet of Steeple Rocks. We, too, like
the wildness of the place, as well as the feeling that we are on land
that our father admired. My sister is an artist and rocks and woods
appeal to her. Thank you for the offer of the truck, but we'll not be
moving till we find out definitely the facts in the case."
"If you will call, I will give you such information as you want about my
ownership," Mr. Ives said, in the tone of speaking to an obstinate boy.
Quickly he turned away, and a silent group watched him until he
disappeared among the trees. Then Sarita dropped to the ground and sat
holding her knees. "Well, what do you think of that!" she cried, "Going
to tell Beth, Dal?"
"No; not a word, please, girls. Beth is too happy to have her fun
spoiled and her sleep disturbed by a new problem." Dalton sat down on an
old stump and Leslie dropped beside Sarita.
"She got out her pencils and paints and things a little while ago," said
Leslie, "and she was unpacking her easel when I left the tent. That
accounts, perhaps for her not coming out. I wonder she didn't hear Mr.
Ives. There she comes, now."
"Let me handle it, please, Les," said her brother in a low voice.
"Hello, Beth, getting ready to paint up the place?"
"Yes, I'm taking my easel out on the rocks. I must get a sketch right
away of the bay and Cathedral Rocks. I thought I heard another voice out
here, but I was too lazy and busy with my traps to come out."
"You don't want to see anybody, do you, Beth? Well, this was only the
man that lives across the bay, or around the bay, as you like, the man
of Steeple Rocks. I imagine that he wouldn't mind your sketching them.
What do you think, girls?"
Dalton's voice was so sarcastic that Beth laughed. "You didn't like him,
that's certain. I'm glad that I didn't come out. He can't help my
sketching his rocks, however. Oh, isn't it too glorious here! I thought
that you were going to take a swim as soon as the tide was right."
"The girls are, I guess, and I'm tempted, too; but Beth, I think that
I'd be more sensible to hike out and see about our building affairs and
one thing and another. I may get a horse in the village and ride to the
station, too, to see about the other junk that's to come. You won't be
afraid without me, will you, girls?"
"No, indeed," Leslie declared. "Besides, Sarita and I are going to put
up our target and practice a little. Bail us out if we get arrested for
shooting, Dal. But if they hear it at the village at all, it may warn
anybody of 'hostile intent.'"
"I don't like to hear you speak in that way, Leslie," said Beth, with
decision. "It is right for you to learn, I think, but use the greatest
care, please. Load just before you try for the target and be sure that
all your cartridges have been exploded. If you never get reckless or
careless it is all right. You'd better fix your target in front of the
rocks, too. Then there will be no possibility of someone's coming
through the trees to get shot."
"My, Beth, you think of everything don't you? We'll not do it at all, if
it makes you nervous, and I promise you, up and down and 'cross my
heart,' that no 'weepon' is going to be left loaded. In case of an
attack by Indians, we shall have cartridges handy anyhow."
"In case of a _large_ band of Indians," grinned Dalton, rising from the
stump, "there are plenty of cartridges in my tent."
"Just think," said Sarita, looking around at the spruces and ferns,
"once there were Indians all over this place. I 'spect they liked it,
too."
"I 'spect they did," returned Dalton, "and I 'spect that they and the
white men had a great time trying to drive each other off." With his
back to Beth, Dalton winked at Leslie. "Girls," he added in a new tone,
"whatever happens, I'm going to take one dip with you. Come on.
Everybody into bathing suits!"
Beth was already strolling toward her rocks, but one more unusual
adventure was in store for the others. It was not quite as convenient as
if their property sloped directly to the beach, but the trail was not
long to a descent whose footing was not too impossible.
Presently they were on their way, Dalton running ahead, with his
bathrobe over his arm, the girls in their coats over their bathing
suits, for the breeze was a little cool. Yet the sun was warm, and the
lapping waves of a smooth sea invited them.
"Dal says," Leslie was saying, "that he is going to find out where the
deed is recorded and he may be able to get into touch with the man of
whom Father bought the place. He doesn't know when he'll be back. Let's
get Beth to bed early to-night. It will be easy, because she is ordered
to do it, you know. Then she won't know if Dalton doesn't get back. Will
you be afraid?"
"Very likely, but it has to be done. Mr. Ives looked rich. Don't you
suppose that he could even get the records fixed up if he wanted to?"
"I don't know. I should imagine that we'd have some account of the
recording, some receipt, or something. I don't know much about such
things, but Dal will find out, and Beth, too, if we have to tell her.
Oh, if Beth can have only a few weeks of rest, it will be enough! Mercy,
what's that?"
The girls looked back along the narrow, weed-grown trail. A loud
clattering on the rocky way announced the coming of a horse at some
speed. The girls drew off among some bushes. They were startled to see a
great black horse dashing over the uneven ground and a frightened girl
clinging to reins and saddle, with no control of the animal. A white
face and tight-set lips flashed by, as the horse swerved suddenly,
almost unseating its rider. Then it dashed on.
"It shied at us," said Sarita. "Look. She's trying to shake loose from
the stirrups--to jump, I suppose. My! There's that pretty nearly
straight-up-and-down place just beyond where we go down to the beach!"
Leslie set her teeth together and shivered. "Poor girl! But perhaps the
horse won't fall. At that pace I'm afraid it will kill her to jump."
Both girls started to run forward, as a turn in the cliff and the trail
took the horse and its rider out of sight for a few moments, behind a
clump of wind-blown pines and some bushes. But the girls hurried around
to where they could see the road again, and they wondered where Dalton
might be. "If Dal has gotten to the beach," said Leslie, "we'll have to
call him to help, in case of a bad accident."
"It is pretty level after that one place," Sarita answered, "and perhaps
someone at the village will catch--"
But they heard a frightened scream. Now they could see the scene
clearly. What was the girl doing? And there stood Dalton at the side of
the trail opposite the cliff's edge. His feet were apart, bracing his
body, for his arms were outstretched to catch the girl. There went a
flying, falling figure,--and Dalton, under the impact, fell too. What a
crash among the bushes!