MOSES GAINS PRESTIGE.
Moses Wopp, not quite reconciled to this unexpected order of things,
as it seemed to involve a protracted fast for his already clamoring
stomach, nevertheless made haste to obey his father’s instructions.
Josh and Jake were quickly unhitched and led into the stable. They
were accommodated with a mangerful of hay, which they immediately fell
to munching. Moses then ran after Mr. Wopp and Clarence, who were
already busily searching the wooded banks of the creek, thoroughly
scrutinizing the underbrush, which in some places was exceedingly
dense and tangled. Within the next half-hour they were joined by four
other men, despatched by Mrs. Mifsud, and the whole party proceeded
slowly and carefully down the creek, some one of the number
occasionally shouting the name of the lost boy.
While this search was being carried on, those left in the house were
in no cheerful mood. They all repaired to the kitchen, as the windows
there afforded a view of the path leading to the creek. Each lady in
her own way tried to bring comfort and consolation to the worried
mother. Mrs. Bliggins gave a long graphic account of the loss of her
cousin, Mrs. Snoop’s husband, at sea. Mr. Augustus Snoop, it
transpired, had sailed away one summer morning on the good ship
“Wanderer,” with Australia as his goal. The story was somewhat
elliptical, but the hearers could gather that before Mr. Snoop’s
departure there had been a huge caldron of trouble brewing on the
domestic hearth. Unfortunately, the ship in which Mr. Snoop sailed had
after many weeks been reported missing, and Mrs. Snoop had donned
sombre garments in honor of the departed. She had found some slight
consolation in telling her friends of her late husband’s many
excellent qualities and of his unrivalled devotion to her. She would
wipe away the gushing tears with her black-bordered handkerchief as
she recounted how her dear Augustus had been so careful and
considerate of her and had even been known to turn the clothes-wringer
for her. True, she had taken in washing for some years to keep the
family larder filled, but her dear husband had felt so much concerned
about it that during that whole time he had not been equal to doing
any work himself. The sorrowing widow had felt certain that from his
home of heavenly bliss the loving Augustus, whenever he could be
spared from his other duties, was daily and hourly watching his adored
wife now living frugally but peacefully on his life insurance money.
Then one day, after several years, a stranger had come to town with a
startling story. He said that he had been a sailor on the “Wanderer,”
when she had made her last voyage. The ship had been blown in a gale
upon the rocky coast of a small island in the south seas. He with
several others of the crew and a few passengers had managed to get to
land and had been hospitably treated by the natives. A small
trading-vessel which regularly visited the island had taken them off
in the course of the next few weeks, but one of their number, a
passenger named Snoop, had refused to leave. He had asserted he might
as well be there as anywhere else. Later reports brought from the
island by the crew of the trading-vessel had been to the effect that
Mr. Snoop was leading a tranquil and peaceful existence. He was
espoused to several dusky maidens and was so much revered and
respected as the only possessor of a white skin on the island, that he
was never expected to stir hand or foot in any way suggesting work.
Mrs. Snoop had been furious at this calumniation of her lamented
husband. But, after learning that the sailor had depicted Mr. Snoop
very accurately as to appearance and disposition, she had begun to
doubt. “When she heard how Mr. Snoop let those heathen girls run after
him an’ wait on him, Mrs. Mifsud,” recounted Mrs. Bliggins, “even
lightin’ his pipe for him an’ puttin’ his hat on his head, she began
to see things clear, an’ mark my words, she quit mournin’. She
couldn’t do anything to Augustus, of course, but she sold her crape
clothes and got some new bright ones, mostly red an’ yellow, just to
show people how she felt. She made kindlin’ of the crayon picture of
Augustus she had bought from a travellin’ agent. She said it was a
cryin’ shame that Augustus Snoop, who had been brought up on two
catechisms, the Mother’s an’ Shorter, afterwards joinin’ the Holy
Rollers, should have taken up with those south sea trollops.”
Mrs. Bliggins’ narrative came to an end. Though its application to the
misfortune which dominated the minds of the little gathering in Mrs.
Mifsud’s kitchen was somewhat obscure, it served to cause a momentary
interest. Experiences so unusual and so complicated as those of Mr.
Augustus Snoop were bound to be diverting.
Mrs. Mifsud, however, had seemingly heard not a word of the story. In
her distress she forgot that Mrs. Wopp was decidedly plebeian in her
conversation and otherwise hopelessly unfashionable; all these
discrepancies vanished from her mind, and leaning over on the ample
bosom, she wept copiously. Mrs. Wopp patted her in a motherly way.
“One touch o’ nater makes the hull world a-kin,” she whispered,
“Hearten up, Mis’ Mifsud, Moses ’ll find yer little lamb. That boy
seems slow, but all’s not gold that’s a-glitterin’. He’s shorely got a
nose fer findin’ things. Our black carf got lost on the prairie one
day an’ he found it arter everybody else hed giv’ up huntin’.”
Her anxiety somewhat allayed for the moment, Mrs. Mifsud roused
herself for the entertainment of her guests.
“I’m so sorry our afternoon has been spoiled,” she apologized. “While
we wait we might as well have a cup of tea. Maria, rinse the silver
teapot with boiling water.”
The kettle which had been boiling itself hoarse for the last hour, was
now called into requisition.
A mile or two down the creek the searching party sought diligently for
the little lost boy. Moses was in the lead. He had announced his
adamant resolve to find St. Elmo, or perform the irrevocable feat of
“bustin’.” He cherished an idea of his own as to the child’s
whereabouts. A few weeks previously, on an all-day excursion, Moses
had played pirates with St. Elmo and they had utilized a most
delectable earthy cave for their game.
“S’posin’ the pore little critter’s hidin’ there, shiverin’ an’
chatterin’, afeerd o’ them orful pirates,” he soliloquised, while
large drops of moisture gathered on his brow at the thought. As he
hurried along he encountered a branch which hung low and like a
scalpel lifted the straw hat from the head of the astonished boy.
Moses’ intuition regarding St. Elmo’s retreat proved to be correct,
and it was a sadly dejected countenance on which he gazed when he
looked into the cave. Tears, dirt, and the juice of Saskatoon berries
mingled on the fair sleeping face of the child, until he seemed to be
the very Cree Indian he had so often personated in his play. His long
curls were tangled and matted with small twigs. His diminutive brown
velvet coat displayed a large rent in the elbow through which oozed a
pathetic-looking suppuration of pink and white checked shirt.
“Fer the love o’ Mike, kid, how did you git here?” said Moses, rousing
the small sleeper. “Gosh, but yer face needs warshin’.”
Innocuous as this remark might seem, it caused St. Elmo’s lip to
quiver and two large tears started on their grimy course down his
cheeks.
“I was looking foh Jonah and the whale he met on the woad, and I got
losted, I did.” St. Elmo ended his fantastic explanation with an
extensive gulp. Moses took a small grubby hand in his and led the
afflicted boy in triumph to the other searchers.
When the party reached the house and St. Elmo had been received with
every manifestation of joy, Mr. Wopp in one burst of eloquence
explained how his boy Moses had found him. Moses, the hero of the
hour, stood abashed before the encomiums of Mrs. Mifsud. He twirled
his hat at a fearful rate on his doubled fist, standing awkwardly on
one foot the while.
It was a proud and happy family that returned to the Wopp homestead
late that evening. The air being chilly, a fire was lighted in the
dining-room and around this inspiring centre there was much discussion
of the days doings. The unparalleled sagacity of Moses was the
jubilant theme running in the minds of his parents and sister. Moses
bore his honors modestly.
“Ef it hadn’t been fer Mosey, St. Elmo might of been lorst yet,”
remarked Betty, gazing reflectively into the fire. “Ef he was goin’
walkin’ on till he found Joner, he’d of been gone a long while.”
“An’ was the pore little feller lookin’ fer Joner?” said Mrs. Wopp.
She spoke pityingly, yet she could not avoid some slight feeling of
satisfaction over this evident tribute to her powers of biblical
narrative.
“‘Magine huntin’ Joner in Mifsud’s woods.” Betty dimpled at the
thought. “He was more like to find a coyote or stir up a bee’s nest.
My! St. Elmo must of et a sight o’ berries to git so smeared.”
“Tell us how you found him, Moses,” requested Nell Gordon, who was
always interested in tales of knighthood.
But Moses refused to dilate on the subject. He realized that some of
the cream might be removed from his achievement were he to explain the
matter of the cave. He so seldom had the felicity of being placed on a
pedestal, and his present status must be maintained if possible. So he
murmured something to the effect that the others were so slow he
thought he’d “jist go ahead o’ them an’ try to find the blame kid a
little farster.”
“When Moses is growed up, Mar, I think it ’ud be jist lovely fer him
to be in the Mounted P’lice. He’s so clever at findin’ things an’ he’d
look jist grand in the clothes,” enthused Betty.
“The p’licemen do hev a fine look,” agreed Mrs. Wopp. “Fine feathers
causes fine birds. Sometimes when the feathers is taken orff there
aint nothin’ much left. That Plymouth Rock hen I plucked yesterday
looked good walkin’ round the yard, but, Lan’ Sakes! when I’d plucked
her she was nothin’ but skin an’ bones.” The good lady had no desire
to underrate that useful body of men, the guardians of the law, but
she considered it wise to exercise a constantly restraining influence
on the vanities of youth.
Betty, who had understanding, was not turned from the subject of her
thoughts.
“Larst Tuesday,” she continued, “two p’licemen went ridin’ along the
trail jist as we were comin’ home from school, an’ they had the
beautifulest horses. Moses can ride any horse, no matter how ornery.”
Betty’s eyes shone with pride.
“He mustn’t git thinkin’ too much of hisself ’cause o’ what he did
this day,” warned the boy’s mother. “Pride goes afore distruckshing,
an’ a horty spirit afore a fall.”
“Leave the boy be, Lize,” directed Ebenezer Wopp, whom the
pride-inspiring events of the evening had rendered more self-assertive
than usual. “He aint crowin’ none, an’ what he done brung credit to
the hullo’ us.”
“Every tub must stan’ on its own bottom,” commented Mrs. Wopp. But
even as she spoke, an unmistakable expression of gratified pride
spread over her large motherly countenance.
Betty watching her, thought she had never seen “Mar” look so handsome
and she thoroughly appreciated the cause.