THE _PEQUOT QUEEN_
The first pull on the rope resulted only in sawing through the turf and
earth at the edge of the cliff until the rock was reached. The next tug
brought a few inches more at the cost of terrific effort, for the rope
must pass at almost right angles over the raw edge of the rock. Laurie,
his hands clasping the rope above his head to lessen the strain across
his chest, was showered with earth. Another heave, and Ned and Bob went
back a scant foot, Polly, her weight on the rope, tightening the slack
around the tree. Once more the two boys dug their heels into the ground
and strained. This time there was no result. They tried again. It was
as though they were pulling at the cliff itself. The rope tautened
under their efforts but yielded not an inch.
“Must be ... caught!” gasped Bob.
Ned, weak from that hurried climb up the hill, nodded, and closed his
eyes dizzily. The moment’s silence was broken by a hail from Laurie.
“No good, you fellows! The rope’s worked into a crevice of the rock
and is jammed there. I’ll have to climb it myself. Make your end fast
around something and stand by to give me a hand――if I make it!”
Bob silently questioned Ned, and the latter nodded again. “Let him
try,” he said huskily. “If he can’t――”
“Oh, wait, wait!” cried Polly. “We’re――we’re perfect idiots! He doesn’t
have to do that, Ned! He can walk along that ledge, and we can hold the
rope――”
“But it isn’t long enough,” Bob expostulated.
“Not down,” said Polly impatiently; “up!”
“Up? By Jove, that’s so! See what she means, Ned? Here, let’s get this
tied to the tree!” A moment later Bob was at the edge, his eager gaze
following the narrow ledge as it ascended at Laurie’s right. Scarcely
twenty feet beyond, it ended at a perpendicular fissure hardly four
feet below the top. Gleefully he made known the discovery to Laurie,
and the latter, stretched like a trussed fowl against the rock, his
toes still just touching the shelf, grunted.
“Never thought of that,” he said disgustedly. He stretched his head
back until he could see the shelf. Then, “It’s a cinch,” he affirmed.
“You’ll have to get the rope free first, though, and ease up on it
until I can get my feet back on the ledge. Can you do it?”
“Have to,” answered the other cheerfully. Cautiously he and Ned untied
the rope from about the tree, gave it some three inches of slack,
retied it, and set to work at the edge of the cliff. Or, rather, Bob
worked, for Ned’s hands trembled so that he couldn’t. The rope was fast
in a jagged-edged notch of the rock, and Bob’s only implement, his
pocket-knife, was somewhat inadequate. But he made it do. Using the
handle like a tiny hammer, he chipped and chipped until finally the
rope began to slip downward and Laurie’s weight rested again on the
ledge. The end about the tree was unfastened; the rope was lifted from
the channel it had dug through the overlying soil and carried a yard to
the left. Then, with Ned and Bob and Polly holding it, their heels dug
firmly into the sod, Laurie began his journey.
It was slow work at first, for his nerves and muscles responded ill to
the demands of his brain, and delays came when those above cautiously
moved their position, taking new holds on the slowly shortening rope.
Had Laurie been fresh for the task he would have swarmed up there in
no time at all. As it was, it took a good ten minutes to reach the end
of his journey; and, even so, he did not proceed to the limit of his
narrow foot-path but, once his hands could reach the edge, squirmed his
way over, Bob and Ned pulling and tugging.
Once there, he flopped over on his back in the tangle of brush and
stretched legs and arms relievedly. In the little silence that ensued
Bob removed the rope from Laurie and coiled it with unnecessary
exactitude. Then Laurie took a long, deep breath, sat up, and said
“Thanks!”
That relaxed the general tension. Bob laughed queerly, Ned grinned
in a twisted way, and Polly dabbed at her eyes with a diminutive
handkerchief.
“Welcome,” said Bob dryly. Then all four began to laugh and talk at the
same time. After a moment of that Bob laid a hand on Laurie’s collar.
“Let’s get out of this,” he said. Laurie got to his feet somewhat
shakily, and they fought their way back to the little clearing. “Now,”
said Bob, “we’ll just sit down and look at that view we came up here to
see and get rested for a quarter of an hour. I don’t know how Laurie
feels, but I’m all in!”
“I’ll bet you are,” responded Laurie. “Guess I had the easiest part of
it.”
“You look it,” answered Bob sarcastically. Laurie’s face was brown with
dirt, his knuckles were bleeding, there was a cut on his chin, and his
clothes were torn until they looked fit only for the ragman. Ned, who
had been scowling blackly for the last minute or two, broke into sudden
speech.
“Of all the crazy lunatics, Laurie,” he began fiercely.
“Oh, _please_, Ned!” cried Polly. “He didn’t mean to do it!”
“Let him say it,” said Laurie humbly. “I deserve it, and it’ll do him
good.”
But Ned’s eloquence had fled him. He said “_Humph!_” and turned his
head away and stared hard at the wide expanse of scenery spread before
him. The others pretended not to know that there were tears in his
eyes, and Bob said hastily: “Well, all’s swell that ends swell! How did
it happen, anyway, Nod?”
“Oh, I was――was thinking about something and didn’t realize I was so
close to the edge, I guess. Then Ned called to me and I turned around
quick and one foot began to go. I tried to catch hold of that tree
there and missed it. Next thing I knew I was sliding down the rock. I
guess that trying to catch hold of the tree saved me, because it threw
me forward and, instead of falling outward, I went sliding down with my
face scraping against the rock. Somehow, just by luck, I got hold of a
root for a second. It broke off, but it helped, I guess, for I stopped
with my feet on that ledge and my right hand holding on to something
above me. I suppose I made sort of a fuss about it down there,” he
concluded apologetically, “but you don’t know how quivery your nerves
get, Bob. Seemed like my legs wanted to dance all the time!”
“Son, you certainly had a narrow squeak of it,” said Bob solemnly.
“Gee, when I saw you go over――”
“Oh, it was perfectly horrible,” shuddered Polly. “And then afterward,
while Ned was gone――”
“There’s a busted window down there that some one’s got to settle for,”
growled Ned.
“Believe me, old scout,” replied Laurie feelingly, “I’m willing to
settle for a hundred busted windows! Of course, I don’t mean that it
wouldn’t have been a heap more considerate of you to have slipped the
catch with your knife and saved me the expense.”
Ned faced them again then, glaring at his brother. “You poor fish!” he
said contemptuously.
“That’s me,” agreed Laurie smilingly. “Pulled up with a line!”
Polly and Bob laughed, the former a trifle hysterically. Then Ned’s
mouth twitched itself into a grin. “Laurie, you’re an awful fool,” he
said affectionately.
“Guess you’re right, Neddie.” He climbed to his feet, stamped them
experimentally, seemed to approve of the result, and added, “Well,
unless some one else is going to fall over, say we go home.”
“I’m ready,” agreed Bob. “How about the rope? Oughtn’t we――”
“In payment for my share in the recent――er――episode,” said Laurie,
“I’ll look after it. Where’d you get it, Ned?”
“Why don’t we all go?” asked Polly. “It isn’t _much_ farther that way.”
“Right-o,” agreed Bob. “Besides, who knows what Laurie would do next if
we let him go alone?”
So they set off down the hill again, every one by now extremely merry
and light-hearted in the reaction. They dropped the rope through the
window in the shed adjoining the office of the quarry company and
retraced their steps to the village and up Walnut Street and so,
finally, just as dusk began to settle down, reached the little shop.
There it was Polly who voiced the thought that had been in the minds of
the rest for some time.
“Perhaps,” said Polly, “it would be better if we didn’t say anything
about what happened.”
“Polly,” declared Laurie relievedly――and slangily, “you spoke a
mouthful!”
“Yes,” agreed Ned. “No use worrying folks about a thing when it’s all
over.”
“Of course not,” chimed in Bob. “Guess it won’t happen again, anyway.”
“Not with me in the rôle of happenee,” said Laurie with conviction.
“If it ever does,” said Ned, “you’ll hang over the cliff until you dry
up and blow away for all of me, you poor simp!”
But when they had said good night to Bob Ned’s tune was different.
“Old-timer,” he said after a silence, “you sure had me scared.”
“I know,” said Laurie soberly. “Sorry, Ned.”
“Uh-huh. ’S all right.” Ned slipped his arm in Laurie’s. “Wish you’d
cut out that sort of thing, though. Always gives me heart-failure. It’s
risky business, anyway.”
“Right,” agreed Laurie. After a minute, as they passed through the
gate, he added, “No more I’ll risk my neck on dizzy height.”
“Well said, for if you do you’ve me to fight!”
That evening the twins were content to lounge in easy-chairs in the
recreation-room and read, refusing challenges to ping-pong, chess, and
various other engagements requiring exertion of mind or body. They
went early to bed and, although Laurie roused once to hear Ned in the
throes of nightmare and had to quiet him before returning to his own
dreamless slumber, awoke in the morning their normal selves again.
After breakfast that morning Laurie announced to Ned that he was going
to walk down and explain the broken window, and settle for it if
settlement was demanded. Ned said, “All right, come along.” But Laurie
persuaded the other that his presence during the conference with the
quarry company officials was not only unnecessary but inadvisable. “You
see,” he elaborated, “it’s going to require tact, old son, and Tact,
as you know, is my middle name. Now, if I took you along you’d be sure
to say something to queer the whole show and I’d have to fork over a
dollar, maybe. No, better leave this to me, Ned.”
“Must say you fancy yourself a bit this morning,” scoffed Ned. “All
right, though. Come over to Bob’s when you get back. I told him I’d go
around there and look at the court.”
Laurie saved his dollar by narrating a moving tale of his fall from
the cliff to the occupants of the small office down by the river. One
weazened little man who held a pen in his mouth and talked through it
or around it――Laurie couldn’t decide which――reminded the visitor that
if he had not trespassed on quarry company property he wouldn’t have
got in trouble. But it was plain that this view was not popular with
the other members of the force present, and Laurie was permitted to
depart with his last week’s allowance intact.
From the office he made his way across toward the stone-walled dock
where lay the _Pequot Queen_. Once he paused, turned, and sent his gaze
to the great mass of rock that arose precipitately from beyond the
littered floor of the quarry. He couldn’t see the tiny ledge that had
saved his life yesterday, but there, looking very small from down here,
was the leaning tree, and he measured the distance to the rock-strewn
ground beneath and shuddered. He was still gazing when there was a dull
concussion and a cloud of gray dust, and a great pile of rock slid down
the face. The little locomotive tooted and came rocking toward the
railway, dragging a flat-car loaded with two great squares of rock. On
the farther side of the small dock a lighter was being loaded, a big
boom swinging from cars to deck to the music of a puffing engine and
the shrill piping of a whistle. Laurie continued his way to the _Pequot
Queen_.
A few years before the boat had been used in the ferry service between
Orstead and Hamlin, across the river. Then the business failed to show
a profit, the company was dissolved, and the _Pequot Queen_ was pushed
into the quarry company’s dock――without permission, if rumor was to be
credited――and left to rot. She was about fifty feet long and very broad
of beam. The stern was occupied by a cabin with many windows, a few of
which were still unbroken. Amidships, if one may apply the term to a
launch, was a small engine-room in which a rusted upright engine still
stood amid a litter of coal-dust. A door led to a smaller compartment,
the wheel-house. Between that and the bow was a space for luggage and
freight. The _Pequot Queen_ had not carried vehicles.
At one time the boat had doubtless shone resplendent in white paint and
gold-leaf. Now there were few traces of either remaining. The name
was still legible on each side of the bow, however, in faded black.
Through the roof a rusty smoke-stack pushed its way to lean perilously
to starboard. Atop the cabin, reached by a narrow companion, benches
inside a pipe-railing had afforded accommodation for passengers in fine
weather. The boat was secured fore and aft with frayed hawsers, and
her rail lay close to the wall. Laurie viewed her speculatively from
stem to stern and then stepped aboard. Had there been any one about to
observe him they might have thought that here was a possible purchaser,
for he went over the boat completely and exhaustively, giving, however,
most of his time to the cabin. In the end he went ashore and once more
viewed the derelict in frowning speculation. There was no doubt that
the _Pequot Queen_ had outlived her use as a water-craft. She still
floated and would probably continue to float for many years yet, but
old age had claimed her, as rotting timbers and yawning seams showed.
Yet Laurie, whether or not he was a prospective purchaser, turned
away at last with an expression of thoughtful satisfaction on his
countenance.
Back by the railroad, he stopped and viewed his surroundings intently.
On one side lay the bridge, with the Basin beyond and to the left, and
the big quarry to his right. On the other side was the company office
and shed, the dock and pier, the latter piled high with roughly-squared
blocks of stone. Toward town the river’s margin was unoccupied for
a space, and then came the coal-wharves and the lumber company’s
frontage. It was a noisy and dust-laden spot in which the _Pequot
Queen_ had been left to pass her declining years, and Laurie shook
his head slowly as though the realization of the fact displeased him.
Finally he crossed the bridge again, hurrying a little in order not
to compete for passage with a slow-moving freight from the north, and
continued along the river-front until he had passed the station and
the warehouses across the track and was again allowed a view of the
stream unimpeded by buildings. Here there was no wall along the river,
but now and then the remains of an ancient wooden bulkhead still stood
between the dusty road and the lapping water. Here and there, too, a
rotted hulk lay careened or showed naked ribs above the surface further
out. Across the road hardly more than a lane now, a few dejected but
respectable dwellings stood behind their tiny front yards. Behind
them the hill sloped upward less abruptly than farther back and was
thickly clustered with unpretentious houses wherein the industrious
foreign-born citizens of Orstead lived. Compared to the vicinity of the
quarry, however, this section of town was clean and quiet. There were
trees here, and later on there would be grass along the unfrequented
road and flowers in the little gardens. Westward lay the sunlit river
and the wooded shore beyond. Laurie nodded approvingly more than once
as he dawdled along, paying, as it appeared, special attention to the
margin of the stream. Finally, more than an hour after he had left
school, he retraced his steps as far as Ash Street and turned uphill.
Ash Street was two blocks north of Walnut and, having an easier grade
to climb, was less devious in its journey. It brought Laurie at length
to Summit Street a short block from the little white house from which
Miss Comfort had lately removed. As he passed it Laurie observed that
so far no vandal hand had been laid on it. The brown shutters were
closed at the down-stairs windows, and the buds on the lilac-bushes
were swelling fast. Somehow these two facts, apparently unrelated,
combined to bring a little pang of sadness to the observer. He went on,
with only a glance down Pine Street to the blue shop, and entered the
side gate of the Coventry place.