THE TERROR
In the midst of the clearing, the paper tablecloth still lay on the
ground, a great shining rectangle of white. Scattered about, crumpled,
soiled, or torn were the paper napkins. Everything else, even the ice
cream from the freezer, had disappeared.
“Why, who took it?” Arthur demanded in a dazed voice. “Who _could_ have
taken it?” he went on in a puzzled one. “Is any one of you playing a
joke?” he asked suddenly of the others.
Everybody protested his innocence.
“We haven’t been gone more than fifteen minutes,” Arthur went on.
“Let’s look about. It doesn’t seem to me anybody could have carried all
that stuff far and we not get a glimpse of it. It might be tramps.”
“One thing is certain,” Maida protested, “tramps didn’t do it. There
are never any tramps in Satuit.”
The children started their search. They looked behind trees and under
bushes; but they showed a tendency to keep together. They talked the
matter over, but instinctively their voices lowered. They kept glancing
over their shoulders. They found nothing.
“It’s like Magic,” Maida commented in a still voice. “You were saying,
Rosie, that you wished you could see some fairies or goblins. It looks
to me as though the goblins had stolen our lunch.”
Arthur alone did not leave the clearing. He stood in the center
pivoting about, watching every vista and gnawing his under lip. His
face was more perplexed that any of them had ever seen it.
“Well if we don’t find our lunch pretty soon,” he said after a while,
“we’ve got to go back home to get something to eat.”
“Perhaps somebody’s playing a joke on us,” Rosie suggested, “and if we
wait for a while, they’ll bring the lunch back.”
There seemed nothing else to do. So, rather sobered by this mysterious
event, the children seated themselves in a group by the brook.
“I can’t wait very much longer,” Laura admitted dolefully. “I’m nearly
starved. I was so excited about the picnic that I hardly ate any
breakfast.”
“Just a few minutes more,” Arthur begged. “Maida, please tell us a
story.”
“Once upon a time,” Maida began obligingly, “six boys and girls were
cast away on a great forest with nothing to eat. It was a forest filled
with gob--Hark!” she interrupted herself, “What’s that?”
From somewhere--not the forest about them, nor the sky above: it seemed
actually to issue from the earth under them--came a strange moaning
cry. The children jumped to their feet. The boys started apart. The
girls clung together. The cry grew louder and louder. It was joined by
a second voice even more strange; and then a third entered the chorus.
It was too much.
The little group, white-faced and trembling, broke and made for the
trail. The girls started first. The boys staid still, irresolute;
but as the uncanny sound grew louder and louder, soared higher and
higher, they became panic-stricken too. They ran. Arthur, ending the
file, walked at first. But finally even his walk grew into a run. The
others leaped forward. They bounded over the trail, gaining in terror
as they went. In some way, they got into the canoes but half a dozen
times their trembling and fumbling nearly spilled them out. It was not
until they were well out into the middle of the Magic Mirror that their
composure came back.
“What do you suppose it was?” Maida asked, white faced.
“It couldn’t have been a ghost could it?” dropped from Laura’s shaking
lips.
“No.” Arthur dismissed this theory with complete contempt.
“I should think it was a crazy person,” Harold declared. “Is there a
lunatic asylum around here, Maida?”
“No,” Maida replied.
“Is there any crazy person about here?”
Maida shook her head.
“I think it was a tramp who first stole our lunch,” Arthur guessed
shrewdly, “and then decided to frighten us away.”
“I think the wood is haunted.” Rosie shivered.
“Nonsense!” Maida exclaimed.
“Well I wish I hadn’t run away,” Arthur burst out impatiently. “I wish
I’d stayed.”
“So do I, Arthur,” Maida agreed vigorously. “That’s the first time I
ever ran away from anything in my life.”
“Let’s go back,” Arthur suggested.
Laura burst into tears. “Oh, please don’t,” she begged. “I’m frightened
to death.”
“We won’t go, Laura dear,” Maida reassured her, “don’t worry.” She
continued after an interval of thought, “And don’t let’s tell Granny
Flynn and Mrs. Dore about that screaming. Let’s say that our lunch was
stolen while we were away. If I tell them all of it, they won’t let us
go on another picnic.”
“Well, believe me, I don’t want to go on another picnic,” Laura said,
her eyes streaming still.
However, by the time they had reached the jetty and had tethered the
canoes, they were more composed. When they reached the Little House
even Laura had begun to smile, to admit that the tramp theory was
probably the correct one.
Granny Flynn and Mrs. Dore looked very much concerned when they heard
the story. They asked many questions. Finally they decided with Arthur
that tramps were the answer to the strange happening. Maida persisted
though that tramps were never permitted in Satuit.
The next morning Arthur strolled down to the lake alone. In a little
while, he came running back white with rage. “What do you suppose has
happened?” he called while still running up the trail. “We didn’t lock
the canoes in the boathouse last night and somebody has made a great
hole in all four of them.”
The Big Six rushed down to the Magic Mirror. It was only too true.
Four of their canoes were ruined. The children stood staring at them,
horrified.
“I don’t think tramps would do this,” Arthur said slowly. “They’d steal
them, but there’d be no sense in destroying them.”
“No,” Maida said slowly. “This looks as though we had an enemy who is
determined to make us as unhappy as possible.”