THE GLORIOUS FOURTH
"TO think that a crowd of New England girls, of all people, should
forget the Fourth of July!" exclaimed Alec, when they met around the
big breakfast table, later that morning.
Sarah looked positively pained. "I never forgot it before in my whole
life," she said plaintively. "But there have been so many new things
to think of, and travelling, you know--" she ended lamely.
"Are New England people supposed to be more patriotic than those of
other states?" inquired Blue Bonnet, bristling a little in defence of
Texas.
"Certainly!" cried Alec. "New England folks are fed on Plymouth Rock
and the Declaration of Independence from the cradle to the grave.
That's the diet of patriots."
"H'm!" murmured Blue Bonnet scornfully. "I'll wager that Patriot Alec
Trent would have forgotten Independence Day, too, if Uncle Cliff
hadn't let him into the secret. Now I know, Uncle Cliff, what was in
that box labelled 'dangerous.' Wasn't I a goose not to think of it?
And Uncle Joe telegraphed so as to get us here in time. Grandmother,"
here she turned a rueful countenance on Mrs. Clyde, "going to school
hasn't helped my head a bit, I'm just downright _dull_."
Uncle Cliff gave an amused laugh. "I'm glad to have caught you napping
for once, young lady. Now, as soon as Gertrudis stops sending in
corncake, I propose that we adjourn to the stables and look over the
mounts. Pinto Pete says he has a nice little bunch of ponies."
"Why do they call him 'Pinto?'" asked Debby. "I thought that meant a
spotted horse."
"Haven't you noticed Pete's freckles?" asked Uncle Joe. "He has more
and bigger ones than any other human in Texas, and the boys called him
'Pinto Pete' the first minute they clapped eyes on him. He don't
mind--it's the way of the West."
"And is 'Shady' a nickname, too?" Debby asked.
"No--just short for good old-fashioned Shadrach. Shadrach Stringer's
his name, and he's the best twister in the county."
Debby had a third question on her lips but checked it as she met
Kitty's saucy eye. Kitty, known as "Little Miss Why," was always on
the alert to bequeath the name to a successor. But Sarah saw none of
the by-play and asked at once:
"What's a 'twister?'"
"A bronco buster," replied Uncle Joe.
Sarah's look of mystification at this definition sent Alec off into a
fit of laughter. Blue Bonnet came to the rescue. "A twister breaks in
the wild horses, Sarah. Some day we'll get him to give an exhibition.
You'd never believe how he can stick on,--it'll frighten you the first
time you see it. The way the horse rears and bucks and runs, why--"
Blue Bonnet suddenly choked and turned pale. Mrs. Clyde and Uncle
Cliff read her thoughts at the same moment and both rose hurriedly.
"Come on, everybody," exclaimed Mr. Ashe in a resolutely cheerful
tone, "we must make the most of the morning."
"Why?" asked Kitty before she thought, and then bit her lip. That word
"why" was such a pitfall.
"Everybody has to take a siesta in the afternoon," explained Blue
Bonnet. "It's too hot to move."
"Every afternoon?" demanded Debby.
"Every afternoon," repeated Uncle Cliff. "Anybody caught awake between
one and four P. M. will be severely dealt with. It's a law of the
human constitution and the penalty is imprisonment in the hospital,
headache, and loss of appetite."
"What a waste of time," Sarah commented, privately resolving that she
would not spend two or three precious hours every afternoon in sleep.
One didn't come to Texas every summer.
"I see mutiny in Sarah's eye," said Blue Bonnet. "Wait till you've had
a sunstroke, Sarah, then you'll wish you hadn't possessed such oceans
of energy." She had put all unpleasant memories from her by now and
was leading the way to the stables. Straight to Firefly's stall she
went and threw her arms around her old playfellow's neck. In the few
seconds before the others came in she had whispered into his velvet
ear something that was both a confession and an apology, while Firefly
nosed her softly and looked as pleased as a mere horse-countenance is
capable of looking.
"Isn't he a beauty?" she challenged as the rest entered.
"A stunner," Alec agreed warmly, coming up to admire. "Wouldn't
Chula's nose be out of joint if she could see you petting Firefly?"
"Victor has a rival too. Where's Alec's horse, Uncle Joe?"
Pinto Pete came up just then, his freckles seeming to the girls to
loom up larger and browner than ever now that they knew the origin of
his nickname. "Shady says the roan's too skittish for any of the young
ladies--" he suggested.
"Strawberry?--oh, she's splendid! Alec, you'll think you're in a
cradle."
The pretty creature, just the color of her namesake, was brought out
and put through her paces, and the exhibition proved to the
satisfaction of all the young ladies that Shady's verdict was quite
just. Strawberry pranced, bared her teeth at any approach, and in
general did her best to live up to her reputation for skittishness.
The fighting blood in Alec made him resolve to change that adjective
to "kittenish" before he had ridden her many times.
The four ponies provided for the girls were next brought out for
inspection, and met with unqualified approval from all but Sarah.
These slender, restless little steeds seemed not at all related to the
fat placid beasts to which she had heretofore trusted herself. Her
face betokened her unspoken dismay.
"Sallikins, I know the best mount for you," exclaimed Kitty
innocently.
"Oh, do you?" cried Sarah hopefully.
"Um-hum,--Blue Bonnet's old rocking-horse in the nursery!" laughed
Kitty; whereupon Pinto Pete let out a loud guffaw, changing it at once
into an ostentatious fit of coughing when he saw that Sarah was
inclined to resent Kitty's insult.
Her mild blue eyes almost flashed as she returned: "You can pick out
any one of those four horses you choose for me, Kitty Clark, and I'll
show you if I'm afraid to ride!"
This outburst from Sarah the placid rather startled the We are Sevens.
But Kitty, after a surprised stare at the ruffled one, picked up the
gauntlet. She appraised the horses with a calculating glance, then
picked out a chestnut who showed the whites of his eyes in a most
terrifying manner.
"How does that one suit you, Señorita Blake?" she asked tauntingly.
"Very well," returned Sarah with a toss of her flaxen braids. This was
sheer bravado, but it passed muster. No one dreamed of the shivers of
abject fear that were chasing up and down the girl's spine at sight of
the fiery little chestnut with the awful eyes.
"Why, that's Comanche!" exclaimed Blue Bonnet. "He has a heavenly
gait."
"Comanche!" Alec echoed, and then withdrew hastily to a convenient
stall. The thought of the plump, blond Sarah mounted on a steed
bearing such a wild Indian name was too much for him. He emerged a
moment later very red in the face and unable to meet Blue Bonnet's
eye. Their sense of humor was curiously akin, and Blue Bonnet knew,
without being told, what mental picture filled Alec's mind.
"Why not have a ride this morning,--there's plenty of time before
noon," suggested Uncle Joe. "Here, Lupe, bring out the saddles," he
called.
Guadalupe, the "wrangler," appeared from an inner room, looking like a
chief of the Navajo tribe, so burdened was he with the bright-hued
Indian saddle-blankets. The girls watched him with eager eyes, but
when he was followed by several boys bearing huge cowboy saddles,
there was a little murmur of dismay from the group.
"Men's saddles for us!" exclaimed Debby in a shocked undertone.
Blue Bonnet laughed outright. "Didn't you hear Grandmother say: 'When
you're in Texas do as the Texans do?' Well, turn and turn about is
fair play. Didn't I ride a side-saddle as proper as pie in Woodford?
Now it's your turn."
Sarah gave an approving look at the high pommels of the saddles, and
at the strong hair-bridle that was being fitted over Comanche's wicked
little head.
Blue Bonnet gave the same bridle a look that was far from approving.
"Lupe, isn't that a Spanish bit you're using?"
"Si, Señorita," said Guadalupe guiltily.
"Then take it right off!" commanded Blue Bonnet in her old imperious
way. "They're cruel wicked things that cut a horse's mouth to pieces,
and I won't have them used," she explained to the girls. "Lupe knows I
hate them." She turned accusingly on the boy.
Lupe looked at her appealingly. "It is the safer for the Señoritas,"
he urged.
Blue Bonnet was inexorable. "We're not going to do any lassoing or
branding, Lupe, and can manage very well without them. We'll have to
organize a humane society, girls, and reform these cruel cowmen," she
suggested.
Lupe discarded the offending bits and substituted others more to the
Señorita's liking, and then the girls went in to dress for the ride.
"How can we ride across the saddle in these skirts?" demanded Debby.
Blue Bonnet and Uncle Cliff exchanged a significant glance, the reason
for which was explained a moment later when the girls entered the
nursery. There on the beds lay five complete riding suits: divided
skirts of khaki, "middy" blouses of a cooler material, and soft Panama
hats, each wound with a blue scarf and finished with a smart bow.
"How darling of you!" cried the girls, falling on Blue Bonnet
rapturously.
"It's all Uncle Cliff," exclaimed Blue Bonnet. "He saw some suits like
these in a shop window while we were in New York and went in and
ordered seven! But Susy and Ruth won't have a chance to wear theirs,"
she ended regretfully.
The girls, too excited to spend time mourning the absent ones, were
already getting into the fascinating suits. These were all of a size,
close lines not being demanded of a middy blouse, and all were
pronounced perfect except Sarah's, which, as Kitty remarked, "fitted
too soon." Gauntlet gloves and natty riding whips completed the
equipment of the riders, and when they went out ready to mount they
were as neat a crowd of equestriennes as ever graced Central Park.
Notwithstanding that they were all dressed alike, each girl's
particular type stood out quite clearly. Kitty had more "style" than
the other Woodford girls, and a carriage that had more of conscious
vanity in it; her "middy" set more trimly and the little hat was set
on her ruddy locks at a little more daring angle than that of the
others. Amanda and Debby appeared the same unremarkable sort of
schoolgirls that they always were. The costume was not designed for
maidens of Sarah's build, and it looked quite as uncomfortable on her
as she felt in it. Blue Bonnet appeared as she always did in this sort
of attire: as though it had grown on her.
"Whew!" exclaimed Alec, "such elegance!"
"Strikes me you're not so slow yourself," returned Kitty. "Isn't he
'got up regardless,' girls?"
Alec was dressed for his part with elaborate attention to details. Mr.
Ashe had been anxiously consulted, for the Eastern boy had no desire
to be dubbed a tenderfoot; and now, except for its spotless newness,
his costume was quite "Western and ranchified"--according to Blue
Bonnet.
[Illustration: "COMANCHE . . . LEAPED FORWARD LIKE A CAT."]
He was in khaki, too, with trousers that tucked into high
"puttees"--thick pigskin leggings which gave his long limbs quite a
substantial appearance and himself no end of comfort. A soft shirt
and a carelessly knotted bandana gave the finishing touches to his
attire. He had even turned in the neck of his shirt so as to be quite
one of the cowmen, secretly hoping that the girls would not notice how
white his throat was.
It was a gay cavalcade that cantered out of the big corral, the five
girls leading; Alec, Pinto Pete, and Uncle Joe forming a rear guard,
with Don and Solomon capering at their heels; while a crowd of little
"greasers" clung on to the bars, their eyes big with the wonder of it
all.
"Lucky we're not on the streets of Woodford," remarked Alec, looking
with amused eyes over the well mounted company.
"Why?" asked Blue Bonnet a trifle resentfully. "Aren't we grand enough
for the East?"
"Sure! But I'm afraid we'd be arrested for running a circus without a
license!"
This piece of wit so tickled Pinto Pete that he nearly stampeded the
bunch by bursting again into his ear-splitting laugh. Sarah grabbed
the handy pommel with a nervous clutch that was eloquent of her state
of mind. And that action was all that saved her. For Comanche, taking
Pete's guffaw for a command, leaped forward like a cat, and a moment
later the whole crowd was galloping madly across the level meadow.
It is probable that if Sarah's hair had not already been as light as
hair can well be, that wild ride would have turned it several shades
lighter. The terrors that were compressed into those two hours are
beyond description, while the bobbing, bumping and shaking of her poor
plump body left reminders that only time and witch hazel were able to
eradicate.
When they returned at noon Gertrudis had a wonderful dinner awaiting
them, and the riders, with their appetites freshened by the air and
exercise, fell upon it like a pack of famished wolves. All except
Sarah. Protesting that she was not in the least hungry, she went at
once to her room. On the little stand by her bed lay the Spanish
grammar and dictionary, mute evidences of the way she had intended to
spend the siesta hour. She gave them not so much as a glance, but
stepping out of her clothes left them in a heap where they fell,--an
action indicating a state of demoralization hardly to be believed of
the parson's daughter,--and flung herself into bed with a groan.
Two hours later she was awakened by the other four girls who had
turned inquisitors, and while two were stripping off the bedclothes
the other two applied a feather to the soles of her feet.
"Oh--is it morning?" gasped Sarah, sitting up and rubbing her eyes.
"It doesn't seem as if I had been asleep a minute."
"Such a waste of time!" quoted Kitty mockingly. "There's such a
thing, Sarah, as overdoing the siesta," she taunted.
Sarah drew up her feet and sat on them, smothering the groan that
arose to her lips at the action. Every bone and joint had a new and
awful kind of ache, and in that minute Sarah wished she had never
heard of the Blue Bonnet ranch. Just then came the welcome clatter of
dishes and at the doorway appeared Benita bearing a tray of good
things, while back of her was Grandmother Clyde.
"Now off with you,--you tormentors," the Señora commanded gaily. "This
poor child must be nearly famished."
"Grandmother's pet!" sang Blue Bonnet over her shoulder, as obeying
orders, the four girls left the suffering Sarah in peace.
Existence assumed a brighter hue to Sarah when she had eaten the
generous repast Benita set before her; and when she had bathed and
rubbed herself with the Pond's Extract Mrs. Clyde had secretly
provided her with, life seemed once more worth living. But she was
very quiet and moved with great circumspection for the rest of the
day, quite content to leave to the others the handling of the
fireworks in the evening.
Uncle Cliff's "dangerous" box yielded still more wonders. The noisy
bombs and giant crackers of the morning were followed by pyrotechnics
that aroused unbounded admiration from the grown-ups and caused an
excitement among the small greasers that threatened to end in a human
conflagration. A small fortune went up in gigantic pin-wheels;
flower-pots that sent up amazing blossoms in all the hues of the
rainbow; rockets that burst in mid-air and let fall a shower of
coiling snakes, which, in their turn, exploded into a myriad stars;
Roman candles that sometimes went off at the wrong end and caused a
wild scattering of the audience in their immediate vicinity; and
"set-pieces" that were the epitome of this school of art.
It would have been hard to say which was most tired, the hostess or
her guests, when the last spark faded from the big "Lone Star" of
Texas which ended the show. No bedtime frolic to-night; the four in
the nursery undressed in a dead quiet and fell asleep before their
heads fairly touched the pillows. In her own little room Sarah held
another seance with the witch hazel bottle, and went to sleep only to
dream of a wild ride across the meadows on Blue Bonnet's
rocking-horse, with a fierce band of Comanche Indians pursuing her,
yelling fiendishly all the while, and keeping up a mad fusillade of
Roman candles.