AN OX-OMOBILE AND A SAILBOAT
Even Melvin had not expected that Dorothy and he would long be away from
the rest of the party, though he did not realize that he was in any wise
responsible to them, since his duties as camp-helper had not yet begun.
But he enjoyed his freedom from the society of so many strangers and
found Dorothy a pleasant companion. She might have been just another
boy, for any "nonsense" there was about her; and she was so delighted
with everything he pointed out that he, also, began to find new beauties
in the familiar scenery, and to grow eager to show her all he could.
For the teamster prolonged his journey to the very crest of the hill
behind the town, and made it slowly. He had so many questions to ask
concerning his old neighbors that he delayed all he reasonably could and
rather resented Melvin's attempts to entertain Dorothy.
"That's Point Prim lighthouse, yonder. See? Yes, Joel, Reuben Smith did
paint his house bright blue, just as he vowed he would to spite his
neighbor. That's Digby Gap, where the two hills come so near together in
the water. The boats that sail from here have to pass through it and
travelers say--No. I didn't hear what price that Company did get for its
last 'catch.' Lobsters haven't been running so free this year, I hear;
and there's another company started canning them. If Judge Breckenridge
stays long enough I hope he'll take you sailing up Bear River. It's a
nice drive there, too, but the sail is better. Up yonder is the
Joggin--Why, Joel, I'm sure I don't know. I hadn't heard."
Such was a sample of the talk which went on and which provoked from the
lad, at last, the comment:
"Learning under difficulties!" which he said with such an amused glance
toward Dorothy that she laughed and felt that Molly had been right in
her belief that "that boy has some fun in him." Thought of Molly made
her also exclaim:
"Oh! I do wish she were here! She would have liked this so much! I don't
believe she ever rode in an ox-cart either, any more than I did before.
How funny it is! And how much longer shall we be? I'm afraid I ought to
have asked Mrs. Hungerford or Miss Greatorex before I came. But I didn't
think. I never do think till--afterward."
"Glad of it. Glad you didn't, else likely you'd have lost the ride. Joel
doesn't call this an ox-cart, though. Not by any means. This, if you
please, is an 'ox-omobile,' and very proud of it he is. Guess you
needn't worry. Nobody can get lost in little Digby; and--Where now,
Joel? How much longer will you be?"
"Oh! I reckon not long. Just a little minute or few. Depends on folks
havin' their trunks ready to haul. Some towerists have been stopping up
here to one these houses and engaged me to take their luggage down to
the pier. They're goin' over to St. John, I reckon, only one of 'em.
She's goin' to the dee-po. When we go down hill you two may set on the
trunks--if you can!" and Mr. Snackenberg laughed at his own thoughts.
The trunks did happen to be ready. Indeed the "towerists" were even
impatient to be gone and were just starting to walk to the pier when the
carter arrived. They looked rather enviously at Dorothy and Melvin, so
comfortably seated in the cart, but its owner did not extend an
invitation to them to ride. Indeed, as he explained to his companions:
"If I was a mind I could have all Digby village a ridin' in my
'ox-omobile.' They seem to think it's powerful cunnin', as if they'd
never seen a team of oxen before. Where've they lived at, I'd like to
know, that they don't know an ox when they see it. There. Them trunks is
in. Now, Sissy, you just set right down and--You'll find out the rest."
The trunks did fill the cart pretty well but there was plenty of room to
put one's feet in the spaces between; and Dorothy fixed herself
comfortably, wondering why Melvin disdained to ride but strode along
beside the teamster who also walked. Throned in solitary state all went
well for awhile, until a corner was turned and the steep descent into
the town began. Then the trunks slid upon the slippery hay, resting
their weight against the chain at the rear, which alone prevented their
falling out; and after a few efforts to maintain her seat Dorothy also
sprang to the ground and joined the others.
"Ha, ha, ha! Ridin' up-hill and ridin' down is two quite different
things, ain't it, Sissy? Ever been to the pier to see the boat start
across the Bay to St. John's, New Brunswick? No? First time you been to
the Province? All right. You stick close to me and I'll p'int out all
the 'lions' there is to see. Melvin, here, can talk as glib as the next
one when he gets waked up, but I know more about Digby 'an he does. One
the sights towerists rave the most over is the fish-grounds. They're
right adj'ining the pier and you can kill them two 'lions' at once. Ha,
ha!"
"But, sir, I'm afraid I ought to go back. I mean--to where my friends
are. Is the pier on the road home?" asked Dorothy.
"All roads lead home--for somebody. The pier and the fish-curin' grounds
amongst 'em. Don't you vex yourself, Sissy. If you was to go from one
end to the other of this little town you couldn't never get fur from
where you live."
The truth was that the old teamster wanted to keep the young folks with
him as long as he could. There were still numberless questions he hadn't
put to Melvin and he had taken a fancy to Dorothy. If she was simply a
"towerist" she was, of course, an idler and it was of no consequence her
wasting her time. He hadn't learned yet why Melvin was here and if he
didn't find that out he felt he "couldn't bear it." So now he asked:
"Well, son of all the Cooks, what's fetched you here this time o' day?
Lost your job?"
"Not exactly. I've given it up. I'm tired of sailing back and forth over
the same old route and a friend of mine wanted to take my place. I'm
going to help a gentleman I know in his camping out. Cook, maybe, or
whatever he wants. Now--that's all. You needn't ask me how much I earn,
or what's next, or anything. You just go ahead and tell this Miss
Dorothy anything you fancy; since you know so much more of things than I
do."
"H'ity-t'ity! Miffed, be ye? Never mind. You'd ought to rest your
tongue, 'cause I 'low it's never wagged so fast afore in your whole
life. But I'm ekal to it. I'm ekal. I've growed to be a regular 'Digby
chicken,' I've tarried here so long already. Ever eat 'Digby chicken,'
Sissy?"
Joel was affronted in his own turn now and determined to ignore that
"Miss" which Melvin had pronounced so markedly. Joel wasn't used to
"Miss"-ing any girl of Dorothy's size and he wasn't going to begin at
his time of life. Not he!
Meanwhile, Melvin had relapsed into utter silence. He declined to answer
any of the teamster's further questions, and if his knowledge of the
locality had been quite as accurate as he had boasted he would have
suggested to the girl that they take a short-cut back to the hotel. Yet,
he had heard that teasing Molly say they were bound for the
fish-grounds. Beyond these lay, also, that notable Battery Point, with
its rusty old guns; its ancient, storm-bent trees; and the Indian
encampment still further along. He had seen tourists so many times that
he fancied they were all alike, full of curiosity, and with ample
leisure to gratify it. So, in all probability, the Judge and his friends
were still at that end of town and he had better stick to Joel till he
conducted the girl and him to their presence. Then he would himself
vanish until such time as the Judge might require his service.
They came to the pier and drove along its great length, the teamster
pointing out all sorts of interesting things, so that Dolly forgot all
else in her eager listening.
"Forty feet high the tide rises sometimes, right on this very p'int.
That's why it's built so lofty. Look over the edge. See that sloping
wharf clean down into the water? Well, sir, that's where folks land
sometimes; and other times away up top here. My heart! The pretty
creetur!"
Joel abruptly checked his team and stooped above something lying on the
wide planking of the pier. Then he lifted the object and handed it to
Dorothy, explaining:
"That's a poor little coddy-moddy! A little baby gull. Pity! Something's
hurt it, but it's alive yet. Makes me feel bad to see any young creetur
suffer; most of all to see a bird. Put it in the crook of your elbow,
Sissy, and fetch it along. I'll take it home with me and see if I can't
save its life."
After a moment he added, seeing her look wistful, as he thought:
"I'd give it to you, Sissy, but towering folks haven't no time nor
chance to tend sick birds. It'll be better off in my house than jogglin'
over railroads and steamboats."
There was sense in this as Dorothy rather reluctantly admitted, for she
would have liked to keep the "coddy-moddy" and made a pet of it. With
Joel, however, it would simply be cured and set free, or it would die in
peace. Also she was touched by the real tenderness with which the
rough-handed teamster made a nest in the straw of his cart and placed
the bird upon it.
He had first deposited the trunks in the baggage-room and there was
nothing to keep him longer; so with another whimsical glance at Melvin,
who had sauntered behind them, he remarked:
"Right this way to the fishin'-grounds! 'Stinks a little but nothin' to
hurt!'"
Then in the fatherly fashion which almost every man she met adopted
toward her, he held out his hand to Dorothy C. and led her back over the
pier and around to the broad field where numbers of men were salting and
piling the haddock and cod they had caught. The fish were piled in
circles or wheel-like heaps, after they were sufficiently dried; and the
fresher ones were spread upon long frames to "cure." It was a great
industry in that locality and one so interesting to Dorothy that she
wanted to linger and watch the toilers despite the decidedly "fishy"
odor which filled the air.
But Joel said that he must leave them then and, after pointing with his
whip to a grassy plain beyond the fishing-grounds, advised:
"Best step right over to the Battery, Sissy, now you're so nigh it. I've
learned in my life that things don't happen twice alike. Maybe you won't
be just here again in such terr'ble agreeable company--" and he
playfully touched Melvin on the shoulder--"and best improve it. And,
Sissy, strikes me you're real likely. Sort of a common sense sort of
little creetur without so many airs as some the girl-towerists put on.
If so be 't you stop a spell in Digby just tip me the wink and I'll haul
you with any load I happen to have on my 'Mobile.' Or, if so be we never
meet again on earth, be sure, little Sissy, 't you meet me in Heaven.
Good-by, till then."
Off he went and left Dorothy standing looking after him with something
very like tears in her brown eyes. Such a quaint figure he looked in his
long blue smock, his worn hat pushed to the back of his head, his sandy
beard sweeping his breast; jogging beside his beloved team, doing his
duty simply as he found it "in that state of life to which it had
pleased God to call him."
"He's a very religious man, Joel Snackenberg, and never loses a chance
to 'pass the word.' My mother sets great store by him and I must write
her about our meeting him. Shall we go to the Battery or back to the
hotel? Your friends don't--aren't anywhere in sight, so I suppose
they've gone there," remarked Melvin.
"Then we ought. Indeed, I feel afraid we've stayed too long; and yet I
can't be sorry, since we've met that dear old man."
Melvin had promptly recovered his "glibness" upon the departure of the
teamster; and though he looked at her in some surprise he answered:
"I don't believe many girls would call him 'dear.' I shouldn't have
thought of doing so myself. That Molly wouldn't, I know; but you have a
way of making folks--folks forget themselves and show their best sides
to you, so I guess. Anyhow, I never talked so much to any girl before,
and you're the only one in all that crowd I don't feel shy of. Even that
boy--Hmm."
"Thank you. That's the nicest thing I ever had said to me. And don't you
think that life--just the mere living--is perfectly grand? All the time
meeting new people and finding out new, beautiful things about them?
Like Mr. Snackenberg asking me to meet him in Heaven. It was certainly
an odd thing to say, it startled me, but it was beautiful--beautiful.
Now--do you know the road home?"
"Sure. We'll be there in five minutes."
"All right. Lead the way. And say, Melvin Cook, do one more nice thing,
please. Forgive my darling Molly for the prank she played on you and be
the same friendly way to her you've been to me."
"Well, I'll try. But I don't promise I'll succeed."
They hurried back over the main street of the town to their inn, past
the postoffice where a throng of tourists were still waiting for
possible mail, past the little shops with their tempting display of
"notions" representative of the locality, until they reached one window
in which some silverware was exposed for sale.
Something within caught Melvin's eye, and he laughed:
"Look there, miss."
"Dorothy, please!"
"Look there, Dorothy! There's your 'Digby chicken' with a vengeance!"
and he pointed toward some trinkets the dealer was exhibiting to
customers within. Among the articles a lot of tiny silver fish, labeled
as he had said, and made in some way with a spring so that they wriggled
from the tip of a pin, or guard, in typical fish-fashion.
"Oh! aren't they cute! How I would like to buy one! Do you suppose they
cost very much?" cried Dorothy, delighted.
"I'll ask," he said and did; and returning from the interior announced:
"Fifty cents for the smallest one, seventy-five for the others."
She sighed and her face fell. "Might as well be seventy-five dollars, so
far as I'm concerned. I have exactly five cents, and I shouldn't have
had that only I found it left over in my jacket pocket. You see, once I
had five dollars. How much is that in Nova Scotia money?"
"Just the same. Five dollars."
"Well, come on. I mustn't stand and 'covet,' but I would so love to have
that for Alfaretta. I promised to bring her something home and that
would please her to death!"
"Good thing she isn't to have it then!" he returned.
Dorothy laughed. "Course. I don't mean that. I'm always getting reproved
for 'extravagant language.' Miss Rhinelander says it's almost as bad as
extravagant--umm, doing. You know what I mean. Listen. I'll tell you how
I lost it, but we must hurry. I smell dinners in the houses we pass and
I reckon it's mighty late."
She narrated the story of her loss and her New York experiences in a few
graphic sentences; and had only concluded when they reached the hotel
piazza, bordering the street, and saw their whole party sitting there
waiting the dinner summons. The faces of the elders all looked a little
stern, even that of the genial Judge himself; and Molly promptly voiced
the thoughts of the company when she demanded:
"Well, I should like to know where you have been! We were afraid
something had happened, and I think it's mean, real mean I say, to scare
people who are on a holiday. Dorothy, child, where have you been?"
"Ox-omobiling," answered poor Dorothy, meekly, and feeling as if she
were confessing a positive crime.
"W-h-a-t?" gasped Molly amazed.
"Ox-omobiling. I didn't mean--"
"What in the world is that? Did you do it with that boy? Is
he--where--what--do tell and not plague me so."
"No. I did it with the man who--" Here culprit Dolly looked up and
caught the stern, questioning gaze of Mrs. Ebenezer Stark, and her wits
fled. "With Joel, and I'm to meet him in--in Heaven--right away."
Utter silence greeted this strange answer, part of which had been made
to Miss Greatorex's austere gesture. This signified on the lady's part
that her ward was late and hindering the meal and was so understood by
the frightened girl. She looked around for Melvin to corroborate her
statement but he had vanished. Having escorted her into sight of her
friends he considered his duty done and disappeared.
"Dorothy! You've been having adventures, I see, and have got things a
trifle 'mixed.' Best say no more now, till we all get over our
dinner-crossness and then tell us the whole story. Since you are safely
back no real harm is done; and, friends, shall we go in to table? The
second bell has rung," asked Mrs. Hungerford, smiling yet secretly
annoyed by the delay Dorothy's absence had caused.
The Judge had received more letters from his "Boys" and even more
urgent ones. That meant cutting short their stay in every town they
visited; even omitting some desirable places from their list. It had
been decided that they must leave Digby on Monday, the next day but one,
and they wished to utilize every moment of the time between in visiting
its most attractive points.
"Now, we'll take that ride. I was going to get Melvin to drive one small
rig with the young folks and I would drive another surrey with us
elders. He's taken himself off, though, so I'll just order a buckboard
that will hold us all," said the Judge, when they had rather hastily
finished their meal.
So they did, and presently the four-seated wagon with its four horses
and capable driver tooled up to the entrance and the party entered it.
All but Monty Stark. Much to his mother's annoyance and regret, that
young gentleman firmly objected to the trip.
"I don't want to go. I hate driving. I don't care a rap for all the
lighthouses or Bear Rivers in the world. I'd rather stay right here and
watch the fishermen. I never had such a chance to see them so close at
hand and--I--do--not want--to go."
"Montmorency, darling! Don't turn nasty and spoil all poor Mamma's
pleasure, don't. I can't see what's the matter with you, dear? You have
been positively disagreeable ever since we took that walk. Did you get
too tired, lovey? Is Mamma's baby boy ill?"
"Oh! Mamma, please! I _shall_ be ill if you don't quit molly-coddling
me, as if I were an infant in arms."
They were speaking apart and in low tones, so that she caught but the
word "Molly" and instantly inquired:
"Is it that girl, dearest? Has she been behaving badly to you? You
mustn't mind her sharp tongue, she's only a--a Breckenridge!"
"Yes, she has been behaving outrageously. She's made me feel as cheap as
two cents. Just because I couldn't think of any remarkably funny thing
to do in this horrid old town--Oh! go on, and let me be. I'm not mad
with you, Mamma, but I shan't go on that ride and be perched on a seat
with either of those wretched girls, nor any old woman either, for the
whole afternoon. Do go--they're waiting, and they'll wish no Starks had
ever been born. I guess they wish it already."
Perforce, she had to go; but it wasn't a happy drive for her. If her
adored Monty was disgruntled over anything she felt the world a gloomy
place. She did exert herself to be agreeable to the Judge, who sat
beside her, yielding his place on the driver's seat to Molly, whose
manner was almost as "crisp" as Montmorency's own. But she would rather
have stayed behind to look after her son; and had she known what was to
happen on that sunshiny afternoon she would have been even more sorry
that she had not followed her inclination.
However, at that moment there was no cloud upon the day; and no sooner
had the buckboard disappeared from sight than Montmorency Vavasour-Stark
performed a sort of jig on the hotel verandah, threw up his cap, gave a
loud Brentnor "yell" and dashed up the stairs to his room as fast as his
short fat legs could move. Thence he soon reappeared, clad in his
"athletics"--of which a broad-striped blue-and-white sweater attracted
much attention.
He had now become "plain boy." He had shed the "young gentleman" with
vigor and completeness and was bent upon any sort of "lark" that would
restore his usual good nature and complacency. He had observed whither
disappeared the various bell-boys when off duty and meant "to stir up"
one of them if nothing better offered.
Something better did offer, in the shape of Melvin Cook; calmly munching
a slice of bread and butter in the stable-yard and as rejoiced as Monty
himself to be quit for a time of women and girls and "manners" in
general.
Montmorency hadn't been attracted before to this "son of all the Cooks,"
who was so fair of face and slender of build, but now he reflected that
if he obtained permission to go into camp with the "Boys," and the
Judge, Melvin would, perforce, be his daily companion. As well begin now
as ever then; so he accosted the bugler with the question:
"Say, can't you get up something dandy for the rest of the day? We've
shed those folks till dark, I guess, and I'm dying for anything doing.
Eh?"
"I've hired a sail boat and am going out alone, except for Tommy here."
Tommy was the most juvenile of all the bell-boys, a lad of not more than
ten, who tried to appear quite as old as these others and who now
strutted forward announcing:
"Yes, me and him is going out in the 'Digby Chicken.' A tidy craft but
we'll manage her all right, all right."
"Cock-a-doodle-doo!" cried Monty, patting the child's shoulder and
incidentally slipping a quarter into the little fellow's open palm; for
it was a habit of the richer lad to bestow frequent tips whenever he
journeyed anywhere, enjoying the popularity this gave him with his
"inferiors."
"A sail-boat? Can you manage a sail-boat, Melvin Cook, by yourself
without a man to help you?" he demanded in sincere astonishment.
"Feel that!" answered Melvin, placing Monty's hand upon his "muscle."
"There's a bit of strength in that arm, eh, what? And you may not know
that I come of a race of sailors and have almost lived upon the water
all my life. Manage a sail-boat? Huh! If you choose to come along I'll
show you."
Ten minutes later they were moving out in a their frail craft from the
little pier across the street from the hotel; Melvin for skipper, Tommy
for mate, and Montmorency for a passenger. That was the beginning. It
did not dawn upon any of the trio what the ending of that sail would be.