"THE RESCUE OF THE PRINCESS WINSOME"
AN ENTERTAINMENT FOR THE BENEFIT
OF THE RED CROSS
CHARACTERS
King Rob Moore.
Queen Allison Walton.
Prince Hero Keith MacIntyre.
PRINCESS WINSOME Lloyd Sherman.
Knight Malcolm MacIntyre.
Ogre Joe Clark.
Witch Kitty Walton.
Godmother Elizabeth Lloyd Lewis.
Frog-eye Fearsome Ranald Walton.
Titania Elise Walton.
Bewitched Prince HERO, THE RED CROSS DOG.
Chorus of Fairies.
{Morning-glory.
{Pansy.
Flower Messengers {Rose.
{Forget-me-not.
{Poppy.
{Daisy.
ACT I.
SCENE I. In the Witch's Orchard. Frog-eye Fearsome drags the captive
Prince and Princess to the Ogre's tower. At Ogre's command Witch brews
spell to change Prince Hero into a dog.
SCENE II. In front of Witch's Orchard. King and Queen bewail their loss.
The Godmother of Princess promises aid. The Knight starts in quest of the
South Wind's silver flute with which to summon the Fairies to his help.
ACT II.
SCENE I. In the Tower Room. Princess Winsome and Hero. Godmother brings
spinning-wheel on which Princess is to spin Love's golden thread that
shall rescue her brother. Dove comes with letter from Knight. Flower
messengers in turn report his progress. Counting the Daisy's petals the
Princess learns that her true Knight has found the flute.
ACT III.
SCENE I. In Witch's Orchard. Knight returns from quest. Blows the flute
and summons Titania and her train. They bind the Ogre and Witch in the
golden thread the Princess spun. Knight demands the spell that binds the
Prince and plucks the seven golden plums from the silver apple-tree.
Prince becomes a prince again, and King gives the Knight the hand of the
Princess and half of his Kingdom. Chorus of Fairies.
ACT I.
SCENE I. _Witch bends over fire in middle of orchard, brewing a charm in
her caldron. Ogre stalks in, grinning frightfully, swinging his bludgeon
in triumph._
_Ogre._ Ha, old witch, it is done at last!
I have broken the King's stronghold!
I have stolen away his children twain
From the clutch of their guardsmen bold.
I have dragged them here to my castle tower.
Prince Hero is strong and fair.
But he and his sister shall rue my power,
When once up yon winding stair.
_Witch._ Now why didst thou plot such a wicked thing?
The children no harm have done.
_Ogre._ But I have a grudge 'gainst their father, the King,
A grudge that is old as the sun.
And hark ye, old hag, I must have thy aid
Before the new moon be risen.
Now brew me a charm in thy caldron black,
That shall keep them fast in their prison!
_Witch._ I'll brew thee no charm, thou Ogre dread!
Knowest thou not full well
The Princess thou hast stolen away
Is guarded by Fairy spell?
Her godmother over her cradle bent
"O Princess Winsome," she said,
"I give thee this gift: thou shalt deftly spin,
As thou wishest, Love's golden thread."
So I dare not brew thee a spell 'gainst her
My caldron would grow acold
And never again would bubble up,
If touched by her thread of gold.
_Ogre._ Then give me a charm to bind the prince.
Thou canst do that much at least.
I'll give thee more gold than hands can hold,
If thou'lt change him into some beast.
_Witch._ I have need of gold--so on the fire
I'll pile my fagots higher and higher,
And in the bubbling water stir
This hank of hair, this patch of fur,
This feather and this flapping fin,
This claw, this bone, this dried snake skin!
Bubble and boil
And snake skin coil,
This charm shall all plans
But the Ogre's foil.
[_As Witch stirs and sings, the Ogre, stalking to the side, calls._
_Ogre._ Ho, Frog-eye Fearsome, let the sport begin!
Hence to the tower! Drag the captives in!
[_Frog-eye Fearsome drags Prince Hero and Princess Winsome
across the stage, and into the door leading up the tower
stair. They are bound by ropes. Prince tries to reach his
sword. Princess shrieks._
_Princess._ Oh, save us, good, wise witch,
In pity, save us, pray.
The King, our royal father,
Thy goodness will repay. [_Pulls back, wringing hand._
Oh, I cannot, _cannot_ mount the tower!
Oh, save us from the bloody Ogre's power!
[_They are dragged into the tower, door bangs and Ogre locks it with
key a yard long. Goes back to Witch, who hands him vial
filled from caldron with black mixture._
_Witch._ Pour drop by drop upon Prince Hero's tongue.
First he will bark. His hands and feet
Will turn to paws, and he will seem a dog.
Seven drops will make the change complete.
The poison has no antidote save one,
And he a prince again can never be,
Unless seven silver plums he eats,
Plucked from my golden apple-tree.
_Ogre._ Revenge is sweet,
And soon 'twill be complete!
Then to my den I'll haste for gold to delve.
I'll bring it at the black, bleak hour of twelve!
_Witch._ And I upon my broomstick now must fly
To woodland tryst. Come, Hornèd Owl
And Venomed Toad! Now play the spy!
Let no one through my orchard prowl.
[_Exit Witch and Ogre to dirge music._
SCENE II. _Enter King and Queen weeping. They pace up
and down, wringing hands, and showing great signs of
grief. Godmother enters from opposite side. King speaks._
_King._ Good dame, Godmother of our daughter dear,
Perhaps thou'st heard our tale of woe.
Our children twain are stolen away
By Ogre Grim, mine ancient foe.
All up and down the land we've sought
For help to break into his tower.
And now, our searching all for nought,
We've come to beg the Witch's power.
[_Godmother springs forward, finger to lip, and anxiously waves
them away from orchard._
_Godmother._ Nay! Nay! Your Majesty, go not
Within that orchard, now I pray!
The Witch and Ogre are in league.
They've wrought you fearful harm this day.
She brewed a draught to change the prince
Into a dog! Oh, woe is me!
I passed the tower and heard him bark:
Alack! That I must tell it thee!
[_Queen shrieks and falls back in the King's arms, then recovering
falls to wailing._
_Queen._ My noble son a _dog?_ A _beast?_
It cannot, must not, _shall_ not be!
I'll brave the Ogre in his den,
And plead upon my bended knee!
_Godmother._ Thou couldst not touch his heart of stone.
He'd keep _thee_ captive in his lair.
The Princess Winsome can alone
Remove the cause of thy despair.
And I unto the tower will climb,
And ere is gone the sunset's red,
Shall bid her spin a counter charm--
A skein of Love's own Golden Thread.
Take heart, O mother Queen! Be brave!
Take heart, O gracious King, I pray!
Well can she spin Love's Golden Thread,
And Love can _always_ find a way! [_Exit Godmother._
_Queen._ She's gone, good dame. But what if she
Has made mistake, and thread of gold
Is not enough to draw our son
From out the Ogre's cruel hold?
Canst think of nought, your Majesty?
Of nothing else? Must we stand here
And powerless lift no hand to speed
The rescue of our children dear?
[_King clasps hand to his head in thought, then starts forward._
_King._ I have it now! This hour I'll send
Swift heralds through my wide domains,
To say the knight who rescues them
Shall wed the Princess for his pains.
_Queen._ Quick! Let us fly! I hear the sound of feet,
As if some horseman were approaching nigher.
'Twould not be seemly should he meet
Our royal selves so near the Witch's fire.
[_They start to run, but are met by Knight on horseback in centre of
stage. He dismounts and drops to one knee._
_King._ 'Tis Feal the Faithful! Rise, Sir Knight,
And tell us what thou doest here!
_Knight._ O Sire, I know your children's plight
I go to ease your royal fear.
_Queen._ Now if thou bringst them back to us,
A thousand blessings on thy head.
_King._ Ay, half my kingdom shall be thine.
The Princess Winsome thou shalt wed.
_Queen._ But tell us, how dost thou think to cope
With the Ogre so dread and grim?
What is the charm that bids thee hope
Thou canst rout and vanquish him?
_Knight._ My faithful heart is my only charm,
But my good broadsword is keen,
And love for the princess nerves my arm
With the strength of ten, I ween.
Come weal, come woe, no knight can fail
Who goes at Love's behest.
Long ere one moon shall wax and wane,
I shall be back from my quest.
I have only to find the South Wind's flute.
In the Land of Summer it lies.
It can awaken the echoes mute,
With answering replies.
And it can summon the fairy folk
Who never have said me nay.
They'll come to my aid at the flute's clear call.
Love _always_ can find a way.
_King._ Go, Feal the Faithful. It is well!
Successful mayst thou be,
And all the way that thou dost ride,
Our blessings follow thee. [_Curtain._
ACT II.
SCENE. _Room in Ogre's tower. Princess Winsome kneeling
with arm around Dog's neck._
_Princess._ _Art_ thou my brother? Can it be
That thou hast taken such shape?
Oh turn those sad eyes not on me!
There _must_ be some escape.
And yet our parents think us dead.
No doubt they weep this very hour,
For no one ever has escaped,
Ere this, the Ogre's power.
Oh cruel fate! We can but die!
Each moment seems a week.
_Is_ there no hope? Oh, Hero dear,
If thou couldst only speak!
But no! Within this tower room
We're captive, and despair
Must settle on us. 'Tis the doom
Of all dragged up yon winding stair.
[_Drops her head and weeps. Enter Godmother, who waves wand
and throwing back curtain, displays a spinning-wheel._
_Godmother._ Rise, Princess Winsome,
Dry your weeping eyes.
The way of escape
Within your own hand lies.
Waste no time in sorrow,
Spin and sing instead.
Spin for thy brother's sake,
A skein of golden thread.
Question not the future,
Mourn not the past,
But keep thy wheel a-turning,
Spinning well and fast.
All the world helps gladly
Those who help themselves,
And the thread thou spinnest,
Shall be woven by elves.
All good things shall speed thee!
Thy knight, the Faithful Feal,
Is to thy rescue riding.
Up! To thy spinning-wheel! [_Disappears behind curtain._
_Princess._ All good things shall speed me?
Sir Knight, the Faithful Feal,
Is to my rescue riding? [_In joyful surprise._
Turn, turn, my spinning-wheel!
(_She sings._)
[Spinning Wheel Song.
My godmother bids me spin, that my heart may not be sad.
Spin and sing for my brother's sake, and the spinning makes me glad.
Spin, sing with humming whir, the wheel goes round and round.
For my brother's sake, the charm I'll break, Prince Hero shall be found.
Spin, sing, the golden thread,
Gleams in the sun's bright ray,
The humming wheel my grief can heal,
For love will find a way.]
[_Pauses with uplifted hand._
What's that at my casement tapping?
Some messenger, maybe.
Pause, good wheel, in thy turning,
While I look out and see.
[_Opens casement and leans out, as if welcoming a carrier dove,
which may be concealed in basket outside window._
Little white dove, from my faithful knight,
Dost thou bring a message to me?
Little white dove with the white, white breast,
What may that message be?
[_Finds note, tied to wing._
Here is his letter. Ah, well-a-day!
I'll open it now, and read.
Little carrier dove, with fluttering heart,
I'm a happy maiden, indeed.
(_She reads._) "O Princess fair, in the Ogre's tower,
In the far-off Summer-land
I seek the South Wind's silver flute,
To summon a fairy band.
Now send me a token by the dove
That thou hast read my note.
Send me the little heart of gold
From the chain about thy throat.
And I shall bind it upon my shield,
My talisman there to stay.
And then all foes to me must yield,
For Love will find the way.
Here is set the hand and seal
Of thy own true knight, the faithful--Feal."
[_Princess takes locket from throat and winds chain around dove's
neck._
_Princess sings._
[The Dove Song.
Now, flutter and fly, flutter and fly,
Bear him my heart of gold,
Bid him be brave little carrier dove!
Bid him be brave and bold!
Tell him that I at my spinning wheel,
Will sing while it turns and hums,
And think all day of his love so leal,
Until with the flute he comes.
Now fly, flutter and fly,
Now flutter and fly, away, away.]
[_Sets dove at liberty. Turning to wheel again, repeats song._
_Princess repeats._ My Godmother bids me spin,
That my heart may not be sad;
Spin and sing for my brother's sake,
And the spinning makes me glad.
Sing! Spin! With hum and whir
The wheel goes round and round.
For my brother's sake the charm I'll break!
Prince Hero shall be found.
Spin! Sing! The golden thread
Gleams in the sunlight's ray!
The humming wheel my grief can heal,
For Love will find a way.
[_First messenger appears at window, dressed as a Morning-glory._
_Morning-glory._ Fair Princess,
This morning, when the early dawn
Was flushing all the sky,
Beside the trellis where I bloomed,
A knight rode slowly by.
He stopped and plucked me from my stem,
And said, "Sweet Morning-glory,
Be thou my messenger to-day,
And carry back my story.
"Go bid the Princess in the tower
Forget all thought of sorrow.
Her true knight will return to her
With joy, on some glad morrow." [_Disappears._
_Princess sings._ Spin! spin! The golden thread
Holds no thought of sorrow.
My true knight he shall come to me
With joy on some glad morrow.
[_Second flower messenger, dressed at Pansy, appears at window._
_Pansy._ Gracious Princess,
I come from Feal the Faithful.
He plucked me from my bower,
And said, speed to the Princess
And say, "Like this sweet flower
The thoughts within my bosom
Bloom ever, love, of thee.
Oh, read the pansy's message,
And give a thought to me." [_Pansy disappears._
_Princess sings._ Spin, spin, O golden thread!
And turn, O humming wheel.
This pansy is his thought of me,
My true knight, brave and leal.
[_Third flower messenger, a pink Rose._
_Rose._ Thy true knight battled for thee to-day,
On a fierce and bloody field,
But he won at last in the hot affray,
By the heart of gold on his shield.
He saw me blushing beside a wall,
My petals pink in the sun
With pleasure, because such a valiant knight
The hard-fought battle had won.
And he kissed me once on my soft pink cheek,
And once in my heart of gold,
And bade me hasten to thee and speak.
Pray take the message I hold.
[_Princess goes to the window, takes a pink rose from the
messenger. As she walks back, kisses it and fastens it on her
dress. Then turns to wheel again._
_Princess sings._ Spin, spin, O golden thread,
And turn, O happy wheel.
The pink rose brought in its heart of gold,
A kiss, his love to seal.
[_Fourth messenger, a Forget-me-not._
_Forget-me-not._ Fair Princess,
Down by the brook, when the sun was low,
A brave knight paused to slake
His thirst in the water's silver flow,
As he journeyed far for thy sake,
He saw me bending above the stream,
And he said, "Oh, happy spot!
Ye show me the Princess Winsome's eyes
In each blue forget-me-not."
He bade me bring you my name to hide
In your heart of hearts for ever,
And say as long as its blooms are blue,
No power true hearts can sever.
_Princess sings._ Spin, spin, O golden thread.
O wheel; my happy lot
It is to hide within my heart
That name, forget-me-not.
[_Fifth messenger, a Poppy._
_Poppy._ Dear Princess Winsome,
Within the shade of a forest glade
He laid him down to sleep,
And I, the Poppy, kept faithful guard
That it might be sweet and deep.
But oft in his dreams he stirred and spoke,
And thy name was on his tongue,
And I learned his secret ere he woke,
When the fair new day was young.
And this is what he, whispering, said,
As he journeyed on in his way:
"Bear her my dreams in your chalice red,
For I dream of her night and day."
_Princess sings._ Spin, spin, O golden thread.
He dreams of me night and day!
The poppy's chalice is sweet and red.
Oh, Love will find a way!
[_Sixth messenger, a Daisy._
_Daisy._ O Princess fair,
Far on the edge of the Summer-land
I stood with my face to the sun,
And the brave knight counted with strong hand
My petals, one by one.
And he said, "O Daisy, white and gold,
The princess must count them too.
By thy petals shall she be told
If my long, far quest is through.
"Whether or not her knight has found
The South Wind's flute that he sought."
So over the hills from the Summer-land,
Your true knight's token I've brought.
[_Gives Princess a large artificial daisy. She counts petals, slowly
dropping them one by one._
_Princess._ Far on the edge of the Summer-land,
O Daisy, white and gold,
My true love held you in his hand.
What was the word he told?
He's found it. Found it not.
Found it. Found it not.
That magic flute of the South Wind, sweet,
Will he blow it, over the lea?
Will the fairy folk its call repeat,
And hasten to rescue me?
He's found it, found it not.
Found it, found it not.
Found it, found it not.
He's _found_ it! [_Turning to the dog._
Come, Hero! Hear me, brother mine;
Thy gladness must indeed be mute,
But oh, the joy! We're saved! We're saved!
My knight has found the silver flute!
(_Sings._)
["Spin, Wheel, Reel Out Thy Golden Thread."
Spin, wheel, reel out thy golden thread,
My happy heart sings glad and gay,
Hero shall 'scape the Ogre dread,
And I my own true love shall wed.
For love has found a way,
For love has found a way.]
[_Curtain._
ACT III.
SCENE. _In front of Witch's Orchard. Knight comes riding by,
blows flute softly under the tower window. Princess
leans out and waves her hand. Knight dismounts, and
little page takes horse, leading it off stage._
_Knight._ Lean out of thy window, O Princess fair,
Rescuers now are at hand.
Thou shalt be led down the winding stair
By the Queen of the Fairy band.
Listen, as low on the South Wind's flute
I call the elves to our tryst
Down rainbow bubbles they softly float,
Light-winged as stars in a mist.
[_He blows on flute, and from every direction the Fairies come
floating in, their gauzy wings spangled, and each one carrying
a toy balloon, attached to a string. They trip back and
forth, their balloons bobbing up and down like rainbow bubbles,
singing._
[Fairy Chorus.
We come, we come at thy call,
On rainbow bubbles we float.
We fairies, one and all,
Have answered the wind flute's note.
The south wind's silver flute,
From the far-off summer land,
It bade us hasten here,
To lend a helping hand.
It bade us hasten, hasten here,
To lend a helping hand.
2. To the aid of the gallant knight,
To the help of the princess fair,
To the rescue of the prince,
We come to the Ogre's lair.
To the rescue of the prince,
We come to the Ogre's lair.
3. And now, at thy behest,
We pause in our bright array,
To end thy weary quest,
For love has found a way. To end thy weary,
weary quest, For love has found a way.]
[_Titania coming forward, waves Her star-tipped wand,
and looks up toward Princess at the window._
_Titania._ Princess Winsome,
When thy good Godmother
Bade thee spin Love's thread,
It was with this promise,
These the words she said:
All the world helps gladly
Those who help themselves.
The thread thou spinnest bravely,
Shall be woven by elves.
And now, O Princess Winsome,
How much hast thou spun,
As thy wheel, a-whirling,
Turned from sun to sun?
_Princess._ This, O Queen Titania. [_Holding up mammoth ball._
To the humming wheel's refrain,
I sang, and spun the measure
Of one great golden skein.
And winding, winding, winding,
At last I wound it all,
Until the thread all golden
Made a mammoth wonder-ball.
_Titania._ Here below thy casement
Thy true knight waiting stands.
Drop the ball thou holdest
Into his faithful hands.
[_Princess drops the ball, Knight catches it, and as Titania waves
her wand, he starts along the line of Fairies. They each take
hold as the Witch and Ogre come darting in, she brandishing
her broomstick, he his bludgeon. They come through
gate of the Orchard in the background. As the ball unwinds,
the Fairies march around them, tangling them in the yards
and yards of narrow yellow ribbon, singing as they go.
Fairy Chorus._ We come, we come at thy call,
On rainbow bubbles we float.
We fairies, one and all,
Have answered the Wind-flute's note.
To the aid of the gallant Knight,
To the help of the Princess fair,
To the rescue of the Prince,
We come to the Ogre's lair.
We come, we come at thy call,
The Witch and Ogre to quell,
And now they both must bow
To the might of the fairies' spell.
Love's Golden Thread can bind
The strongest Ogre's arm,
And the spell of the blackest Witch
Must yield to its mighty charm.
[_Ogre and Witch stand bound and helpless, tangled in golden cord.
They glower around with frightful grimaces. King and
Queen enter unnoticed from side. Knight draws his sword,
and brandishing it before Ogre, cries out fiercely._
_Knight._ The key! The key that opens yonder tower!
Now give it me, or by my troth
Your head shall from your shoulders fly!
To stab you through I'm nothing loath!
[_Ogre gives Knight the key. He rushes to the door, unlocks it,
and Princess and dog burst out. Queen rushes forward and
embraces her, then the King, and Knight kneels and kisses
her hand. Princess turns to Titania._
_Princess._ Oh, happy day that sets me free
From yon dread Ogre's prison!
Oh, happy world, since 'tis for me
Such rescuers have 'risen.
But see, your Majesty! the plight
Of Hero--he the Prince, my brother!
Wilt thou _his_ wrong not set aright?
Another favour grant! One other!
[_Titania waves wand toward Knight who springs at Witch with
drawn sword._
_Knight._ The spell! The spell that breaks the power
That holds Prince Hero in its thrall!
Now give it me, or in this hour
Thy head shall from its shoulders fall!
_Witch._ Pluck with your thumbs
Seven silver plums [_Speaking in high, cracked voice._
From my golden apple-tree!
These the dog must eat.
The change will be complete,
And a prince once more the dog will be!
[_Princess darts back into Orchard, followed by dog, who crouches
behind hedge, and is seen no more. She picks plums, and,
stooping, gives them to him, under cover of the hedge. The
real Prince Hero leaps up from the place where he has been
lying, waiting, and hand in hand they run back to the centre
of the stage, where the Prince receives the embraces of King
and Queen. Prince then turns to Knight._
_Prince Hero._ Hail, Feal the Faithful!
My gratitude I cannot tell,
That thou at last hath freed me
From the Witch's fearful spell.
But wheresoe'er thou goest,
Thou faithful knight and true,
The favours of my kingdom
Shall all be showered on you. [_Turns to Titania._
Hail, starry-winged Titania!
And ye fairies, rainbow-hued!
I have not words sufficient
To tell my gratitude,
But if the loyal service
Of a mortal ye should need,
Prince Hero lives to serve you,
No matter what the deed!
[_Characters now group themselves in tableau. Queen and Prince
on one side, Godmother and Titania on the other. King in
centre, with Princess on one hand, Knight on other. He
places her hand in the Knight's, who kneels to receive it. Ogre
and Witch, still making horrible faces, are slightly in background,
bound. Fairies form an outer semicircle._
_King._ And now, brave Knight, requited stand!
Here is the Princess Winsome's hand.
To-morrow thou shalt wedded be,
And half my kingdom is for thee!
_Fairy Chorus._ Love's golden cord has bound
The strongest Ogre's arm,
And the spell of the blackest Witch
Has yielded to its charm.
The Princess Winsome plights
Her troth to the Knight to-day,
So fairies, one and all,
We need no longer stay.
The golden thread is spun,
The Knight has won his bride,
And now our task is done,
We may no longer bide.
On rainbow bubbles bright,
We fairies float away.
_The wrong is now set right
And Love has found the way!_
[_Curtain._
As Betty finished reading, there was a babel of voices and a clapping of
hands that made her face grow redder and redder. They were all trying to
congratulate her at once, and she was so confused that she wished she
could run away and hide. But the applause was very sweet to shy little
Betty. She felt that she had done her best, and that not only her
godmother was proud of her, but Keith, and Keith's beautiful mother, who
bent from her queenly height to kiss Betty's flushed cheek, and whisper a
word of praise that made her glow for weeks afterward, whenever she
thought of it.
"'And he kissed me once on my soft pink cheek,
And once in my heart of gold,'"
hummed Keith. "Say, Betty, that's mighty pretty. How did you ever think of
it?"
Before she could answer, one of the maids came out with a tray of sherbet
and cake, and the boys sprang up to help serve the girls.
"I know some of my part already," said Kitty, stirring her sherbet
suggestively, and repeating in a sepulchral tone:
"'I'll stir
This hank of hair, this patch of fur,
This feather and this flapping fin,
This claw, this bone, this dried snake skin.'"
"Oh, Kitty, for mercy's sake _hush!_" said Allison; "you make my blood run
cold."
"But I must, if we've only a week to get ready in. I expect to say it day
and night. It's better to do that than to take more than a week, and give
up the camping party, isn't it?"
"It's going to be a howling success," prophesied Malcolm. "When mamma and
auntie and Aunt Mary go into a scheme the way they are doing now, costumes
and drills, and all sorts of impossible things don't count at all. We'll
be ready in plenty of time."
"Especially," said the Little Colonel, with dignity, "when mothah and Papa
Jack are goin' to do so much. My pa'ht is longah than anybody's."
Next morning at the depot, the post-office, and the blacksmith shop a sign
was displayed which everybody stopped to read. Similar announcements
nailed on various trees throughout the Valley caused many an old farmer to
pull up his team and adjust his spectacles for a closer view of this novel
poster.
They were all Miss Allison's work. Each one bore at the top a crayon
sketch of a huge St. Bernard, with a Red Cross on its collar and
shoulder-bags. Underneath was a notice to the effect that an entertainment
would be given the following Friday night in the college hall, a short
concert, followed by a play called "The Princess Winsome's Rescue," in
which _Hero_, the Red Cross dog recently brought from Switzerland, would
take a prominent part. The proceeds were to be given to the cause of the
Red Cross.
That announcement alone would have drawn a large crowd, but added to that
was the fact that twenty families in the Valley had each contributed a
child to the fairy chorus or the group of flower messengers, and were thus
personally interested in the success of the entertainment.
There was scarcely standing-room when the doors were opened Friday
evening. Papa Jack felt well repaid for his part in the hurried
preparations when, after the musical part of the programme, he heard the
buzz of admiration that went around the room, as the curtain rose on the
first scene of the play. It was the dimly lighted witch's orchard.
Across the stage, five feet back from the footlights, ran a snaky-looking
fence with high-spiked posts. It had taken him all morning to build it,
even with Alec's and Walker's help. Above this peered a thicket of small
trees and underbrush bearing a marvellous crop of gold and silver apples
and plums. Real gold and silver fruit it looked to be in the dim light,
and not the discarded ornaments of a score of old Christmas-trees. A
stuffed owl kept guard on one high gate-post, and a huge black velvet cat
on the other.
In the centre of the stage, showing plainly through the open double gates,
the witch's caldron hung on a tripod, over a fire of fagots. Here Kitty,
dressed like an old hag, leaned on her blackened broomstick, stirring the
brew, and muttering to herself.
At one side of the stage could be seen the door leading into the ogre's
tower, and above it a tiny casement window.
Mrs. Walton gave a nod of satisfaction over her work, when the ogre came
roaring in. His costume was of her making, even to the bludgeon which he
carried. "Nobody could guess that it was only an old Indian club painted
red to hide the lumps of sealing-wax I had to stick on to make the
regulation knots," she whispered to Keith's father, who sat next her. "And
no one would ever dream that the ogre is Joe Clark. I had hard work to
persuade him to take the part, but an invitation to my camping party next
week proved to be effective bait. And such a time as I had to get Ranald's
costume! I was about to ask Betty to change his name, when Elise found
that Mardi Gras frog at some costumer's. Those webbed feet and hideous
eyes are enough to strike terror to any one's soul."
It was a play in which every one was pleased with the part given him.
Allison and Rob swept up and down in their gilt crowns and ermine-trimmed
robes of royal purple, feeling that as king and queen they had the most
important parts of all. Keith looked every inch the charming Prince Hero
he personated, and Malcolm made such a dashing knight that there was a
burst of applause every time he appeared.
Betty made a dear old godmother, and Elise, with crown and star-tipped
wand, filmy spangled wings, and big red bubble of a balloon, was supremely
happy as Queen of the Fairies. But it was the Little Colonel who won the
greatest laurels, in the tower room, making the prettiest picture of all
as she bent over the great St. Bernard, bewailing their fate.
The scenery had been changed with little delay between acts. Three tall
screens, hastily unfolded just in front of the spiked fence, hid the
orchard from view, and a fourth screen served the double purpose of
forming the side wall of the room, and hiding the ogre's tower. The narrow
space between the screens and the footlights was ample for the scene that
took place there, and the arrangement saved much trouble. For in the last
act, the screens had only to be carried away, to leave the stage with its
original setting.
"Lloyd never looked so pretty before, in her life," said Mr. Sherman to
his wife, as they watched the Princess Winsome tread back and forth beside
the spinning-wheel, the golden cord held lightly in her white fingers. But
she was even prettier in the next scene, when with the dove in her hands
she stood at the window, twining the slender gold chain about its neck and
singing in a high, sweet voice, clear as a crystal bell:
"Flutter and fly, flutter and fly,
Bear him my heart of gold.
Bid him be brave, little carrier dove,
Bid him be brave and bold."
Twice many hands called her back, and many eyes looked admiringly as she
sang the song again, holding the dove to her breast and smoothing its
white feathers as she repeated the words:
"Tell him that I at my spinning-wheel
Will sing while it turns and hums,
And think all day of his love so leal
Until with the flute he comes."
"Jack," said some one in a low tone to Mr. Sherman, as the applause died
away for the third time, "Jack, when the Princess Winsome is a little
older, you'd be wise to call in the ogre's help. You'll have more than one
Kentucky Knight trying to carry her away if you don't."
Mr. Sherman made some laughing reply, but turned away so absorbed by a
thought that his friend's words had suggested that he lost all of the
flower messengers' speeches. That some knight might want to carry off his
little Princess Winsome was a thought that had never occurred to him
except as some remote possibility far in the future. But looking at her as
she stood in her long court train, he realised that in a few more months
she would be in her teens, and then--time goes so fast! He sighed,
thinking with a heavy sinking of the heart that it might be only a few
years until she would be counting the daisy petals in earnest.
The curtain hitched just at the last, so that it would not go down, so
with their rainbow bubbles bright the fairies ran off the stage toward
various points in the audience, for the coveted admiration and praise
which they knew was their due.
"Wasn't Hero fine? Didn't he do his part beautifully?" cried Lloyd, as her
father, with one long step, raised himself up to a place beside her on the
stage, where the children were holding an informal reception.
"Show him the money-box," cried Keith, pressing down through the crowds
from the outer door whither he had gone after the entrance receipts.
"Just look, old fellow. There's dollars and dollars in there. See what
you've done for the Red Cross. If it hadn't been for you, Betty never
would have written the play."
"And if it hadn't been for Betty's writing the play you never would have
sent me this heart of gold," said Malcolm in an aside to Lloyd, as he
unfastened her locket and chain from his shield. "Am I to keep it always,
fair princess?"
"No, indeed!" she answered, laughingly, holding out her hand to take it.
"Papa Jack gave me that, and I wouldn't give it up to any knight undah the
sun."
"That's right, little daughter," whispered her father, "I am not in such a
hurry to give up my Princess Winsome as the old king was. Come, dear, help
me find Betty. I want to tell her what a grand success it was."
Lloyd slipped a hand in her father's and led him toward a wing whither the
shy little godmother had fled, without a glance in Malcolm's direction.
But afterward, when she came out of the dressing-room, wrapped in her long
party-cloak, she saw him standing by the door. "Good night!" he said,
waving his plumed helmet. Then, with a mischievous smile, he sang in an
undertone:
"Go bid the princess in the tower
Forget all thought of sorrow.
Her true knight will return to her
With joy, on some glad morrow."
CHAPTER XIV.
IN CAMP
Several miles from Lloydsboro Valley, where a rapid brook runs by the
ruins of an old paper-mill, a roaring waterfall foams and splashes. Even
in the long droughts of midsummer it is green and cool there, for the
spray, breaking on the slippery stones, freshens the ferns on the bank,
and turns its moss to the vivid hue of an emerald. Near by, in an open
pasture, sloping down from a circle of wooded hills, lies an ideal spot
for a small camp.
It was here that Mrs. Walton and Miss Allison came one warm afternoon, the
Monday following the entertainment, with a wagonette full of children.
Ranald, Malcolm, Keith, and Rob Moore had ridden over earlier in the day
to superintend the coloured men who dug the trenches and pitched the
tents. By the time the wagonette arrived, fuel enough to last a week was
piled near the stones where the camp-fire was laid, and everything was in
readiness for the gay party. Flags floated from the tent poles, and
Dinah, the young coloured woman who was to be the cook, came up from the
spring, balancing a pail of water on her head, smiling broadly.
As the boys and girls swarmed out and scurried away in every direction
like a horde of busy ants, Mrs. Walton turned to her sister with a laugh.
"Did we lose any of them on the way, Allison? We'd better count noses."
"No, we are all here: eight girls, four boys, the four already on the
field, Dinah and her baby, and ourselves, twenty in all."
"Twenty-one, counting Hero," corrected Mrs. Walton, as the great St.
Bernard went leaping after Lloyd, sniffing at the tents, and barking
occasionally to express his interest in the frolic. "He seems to be
enjoying it as much as any of us."
"I wish that they were all as able to take care of themselves as he is. It
would save us a world of anxiety. Do you begin to realise, Mary, what a
load of responsibility we have taken on our shoulders? Sixteen boys and
girls to keep out of harm's way for a week in the woods is no easy
matter."
"We'll keep them so busy that they'll have no time for mischief. The
wagonette isn't unloaded yet. Wait till you see the games I've brought,
and the fishing-tackle. There's an old curtain that can be hung between
those two trees any time we want to play charades."
"Swing that hammock over there, Ranald," she called, nodding to a clump of
trees near the spring. "Then some of you boys can carry this chest back to
Dinah." She pointed to the old army mess-chest, that always accompanied
them on their picnics and outings.
"The Ogre can do that," said the Little Captain, nodding toward Joe Clark,
who stood leaning lazily against a tree.
"Do it yourself, Frog-Eye Fearsome," retorted Joe, at the same time coming
forward to help carry the chest to the place assigned it.
"They'll never be able to get away from those names," said Miss Allison.
"Well, what is it, my Princess Winsome?" she asked, as Lloyd came running
up to her.
"Please take care of these for me, Miss Allison," answered Lloyd, holding
out Hero's shoulder-bags, which she had just taken from him. "I put on his
things when we started, for mothah says nobody evah knows what's goin' to
happen in camp, and we might need those bandages." Tumbling them into Miss
Allison's lap, she was off again in breathless haste, to follow the other
girls, who were exploring the tents, and exclaiming over all the queer
make-shifts of camp life. Then they raced down to the waterfall, and,
taking off shoes and stockings, waded up and down in the brook. These
early fall days were as warm as August, so wading was not yet one of the
forbidden pastimes. They splashed up and down until the Little Captain's
bugle sent a ringing call for their return to camp. Katie was one of the
last to leave the water. Lloyd waited for her while she hurriedly laced
her shoes, and as they followed the others she said, in a confidential
tone, "Do you think you are goin' to like to stay out heah till next
Sata'day?"
"Like it!" echoed Katie, "I could stay here a year!"
"But at night, I mean. Sleepin' in those narrow little cots, with nothin'
ovah ou' heads but the tents, and no floah. Ugh! What if a snake or a
liz'ad should wiggle in, and you'd heah it rustlin' around in the grass
undah you! There's suah to be bugs and ants and cattahpillahs. I like camp
in the daylight, but it would be moah comfortable to have a house to sleep
in at night. I wish I could wish myself back home till mawnin'."
"I don't mind the bugs and spiders," said Katie, recklessly, "and you'd
better not let the boys find out that you do, or they'll never stop
teasing you."
A bountifully spread supper-table met their sight as they reached the
camp. It had been made by laying long boards across two poles, which were
supported by forked stakes driven into the ground. The eight girls made a
rush for the camp-stools on one side of the table, and the eight boys
grabbed those on the other side.
"Don't have to have no manners in the woods," remarked little Freddy
Nicholls, straddling his stool, and beginning his supper, regardless of
the knife and fork beside his plate. "That's what I like about camping
out. You don't have to wait to have things handed to you, but can dip in
and get what you want like an Injun."
Lloyd looked at him scornfully as she daintily unfolded her paper napkin.
She nodded a decided yes when Katie whispered, "Aren't boys horrid and
greedy!" Then she corrected herself hastily. She had seen Malcolm wait to
pass a dish of fried chicken to his Aunt Allison before helping himself,
and heard Ranald apologise to his next neighbour for accidentally jogging
his elbow. "Not all of them," she replied.
It added much to Betty's interest in the meal to know that the cup from
which she drank, and the fork with which she ate, had been used by real
soldiers, and carried from one army post to another many times in the
travel-worn old mess chest.
Little Elise was the only one who did not give due attention to her
supper. She sat with a cooky in her hand, looking off at the hills with
dreamy eyes, until her mother spoke to her.
"I am trying to make some poetry like Betty did," she answered. Ever since
the play her thoughts seemed trying to twist themselves into rhymes, and
she was constantly coming up to her mother with a new verse she had just
made.
"Well, what is it, Titania?" asked Mrs. Walton, seeing from the gleam of
satisfaction in the black eyes that the verse was ready.
"It's all of our names," she said, shyly, waving her hand toward the girls
on her side of the table.
"Betty, Corinne, and Lloyd, Margery, Kitty, and Kate,
Allison and Elise all together make eight."
"Oh, that's easy," said Rob. "You just strung a lot of names together.
Anybody can do that."
"You do it, then," proposed Kitty. "Make a verse with the boys' names in
it."
"Malcolm, Ranald, and Rob, Jamie, Freddy, Keith," he began, boldly, then
hesitated. "There isn't any rhyme for Keith."
"Change them around," suggested Malcolm. The girls would not help, and the
whole row of boys floundered among the names for a while, unwilling to be
beaten by the youngest member of the party, and a girl, at that. Finally,
by their united efforts and a hint from Miss Allison, they succeeded.
"Malcolm, Ranald, and Rob, Keith and Freddy, and James,
Joe the Ogre, and George. Those are the boys' eight names."
"Let's make a law," suggested Kitty, "that nobody at the table can say
anything from now on till we are through supper, unless they speak in
rhymes."
They all agreed, but for a few minutes no one ventured a remark. Only
giggles broke the silence, until Allison asked Freddy Nicholls to pass the
pickles. Recorded here in a book, it may seem a very silly game, but to
the jolly camping party, ready to laugh at even the sheerest nonsense, it
proved to be the source of much fun. Even Freddy, to his own great
delight, surprised himself and the company by asking Elise to take some
cheese. Joe was thrown into confusion by Kitty's asking him if flesh,
fowl, or fish, was his favourite dish. As he could only nod his head, he
had to pay a forfeit, and Keith answered for him by saying, "That's not a
fair question to Joe. An ogre eats all things, you know." So it went on
until Mrs. Walton said:
"Now all who are able, may rise from the table.
The camp-fire's burning bright.
Spread rugs on the ground, and gather around,
And we'll all tell tales in its light."
"This is the jolliest part of it all!" exclaimed Keith, a little later,
as, stretched out on a thick Indian blanket, he looked around on the
circle of faces, glowing in the light of the leaping fagot-fire. Twilight
had settled on the camp. The tumbling of the waterfall over the rocks made
a subdued roar in the background. An owl called somewhere from the depths
of the woods. As the dismal "Tu-whit, tu who-oo" sounded through the
gloaming, Lloyd glanced over her shoulder with a shudder.
"Ugh!" she exclaimed. "It looks as if the witch's orchard might be there
behind us, with all sorts of snaky, crawlin' things in it. Come heah,
Hero. Let me put my back against you. It makes me feel shivery to even
think of such a thing!"
The dog edged nearer at her call, and she snuggled up against his tawny
curls with a feeling of warmth and protection.
"Wish I had a dog like that," said Jamie, fondly stroking the silky ear
that was nearest him. "I wouldn't take a thousand dollars for him if I
had."
"Money couldn't buy Hero!" exclaimed Lloyd.
"Now what would you do," said Kitty, who was always supposing impossible
things, "if some old witch would come to you and say, 'You may have your
choice? a palace full of gold and silver and precious stones and give up
Hero, or keep him and be a beggar in rags?"
"I'd be a beggah, of co'se!" cried Lloyd, warmly, throwing her arm around
the dog's neck. "Think I'd go back on anybody that had saved my life? But
I wouldn't stay a beggah," she continued. "I'd put on the Red Cross too,
and we'd go away where there was war, Hero and I, and we'd spend ou' lives
takin' care of the soldiahs. I wouldn't have to dress in rags, for I'd
weah the nurse's costume, and I'd do so much good that some day, may be,
somebody would send me the Gold Cross of Remembrance, as they did Clara
Barton, and I'm suah that I'd rathah have that, with all it means, than
all the precious stones and things that the witch could give me."
"When did Hero save your life?" asked Joe, who had not heard the story of
the runaway in Geneva.
"Tell us all about it, Lloyd," asked Mrs. Walton. So Lloyd began, and the
group around the fire listened with breathless attention. And that was
followed by the Major's story, and all he had told her of St. Bernard
dogs, and of the Red Cross service. Then the finding of the Major by his
faithful dog on the dark mountain after the storm. Betty's turn came next.
She repeated some of the stories they had heard on shipboard. Mrs. Walton
added her part afterward, telling her personal experience with the Red
Cross work in Cuba and the Philippines.
"That is one reason I took such a deep interest in your little
entertainment," she said, "and was so pleased when it brought so much
money. I know that every penny under the wise direction of the Red Cross
will help to make some poor soldier more comfortable; or if some sudden
calamity should come in this country, before it was sent away, your little
fund might help to save dozens of lives."
The fire had burned low while they talked, and Elise was yawning sleepily.
Miss Allison looked at her watch. "How the time has flown!" she exclaimed
in surprise. "Where is the bugler of this camp? It is high time for him to
play taps."
Ranald ran for his bugle, and the clear call that he had learned to play
when he was "The Little Captain," in far-away Luzon, rang out into the
dark woods. It was answered by the same silvery notes. Mrs. Walton and
Miss Allison looked at each other in surprise, for the reply was no echo,
but the call of a real bugle, somewhere not far away.
"Oh, we forgot to tell you, Aunt Mary," said Malcolm, noting the surprised
glance, "It's a regiment of the State Guard, in camp over by Calkin's
Cliff. We boys were over there this morning. They made a big fuss over us
when they found that Ranald was General Walton's son and we were his
nephews. They wanted us to stay to dinner, and when they found out that
you were coming to camp here, the Colonel said be wanted to come over here
and call. He used to know you out West."
"Colonel Wayne," repeated Mrs. Walton, when Malcolm finally remembered the
name. "We knew him when he was only a young cadet at West Point. The
General was very fond of him, and I shall be glad to see him again."
"They'll be interested in Hero," said Ranald. "Maybe they'll want to train
some war dogs for our army if they set him at work. Do you suppose he has
forgotten his training, Lloyd? Let's try him in the morning."
"You can make a great game of it," suggested Mrs. Walton. "Rig up one of
the tents for a hospital. Some of the boys can be wounded soldiers and
some of the girls nurses."
"All but me," said Lloyd. "I'll have to be an officer to give the ordahs.
He only knows the French words for that, and the Majah taught them to me."
"What can we use for the brassards and costumes?" said Kitty.
"Elise has an old red apron in the clothes-hamper that we can cut up for
crosses," said Mrs. Walton, always ready for emergencies. "But now to your
tents, every man of you, or you'll never be ready to get up in the
morning."
It was hard to go to sleep in the midst of such strange surroundings, and
more than once Lloyd started up, aroused by the hoot of an owl, or the
thud of a bat against the side of the tent. Not until she reached out and
laid her hand on the great St. Bernard stretched out beside her cot, did
she settle herself comfortably to sleep. With the touch of his soft curls
against her fingers, she was no longer afraid.
When the officers came into the camp next day, they found the children in
the midst of their new game. It was some time before their attention was
attracted to it, for the Colonel was one of the men who had followed
General Walton on his long, hard Indian campaign, and there were many
questions to be asked and answered, about mutual friends in the army.
Hero was not making a serious business of the game, but was entering into
it as if it were a big frolic. He could not make believe as the boys
could, who played at soldiering. But the old words of command, uttered, in
the Little Colonel's high, excited voice, sent him bounding in the
direction she pointed, and the prostrate forms he found scattered about
the sham battle field, seemed to quicken his memory. Mrs. Walton presently
called the officer's attention to the efforts Hero was making to recall
his old lessons, and briefly outlined his history.
"I believe he would remember perfectly," said the Colonel, watching him
with deep interest, "if we were to take him over to our camp, and try him
among the regular uniformed soldiers. Of course our accoutrements are not
the kind he has been accustomed to, but I think they would suggest them.
At least the smell of powder would be familiar, and the guns and canteens
and knapsacks might awaken something in his memory that would revive his
entire training. I should like very much to make the experiment."
After some further conversation, Lloyd was called up to meet the
officers, and it was agreed that Hero should be taken over to the camp for
a trial on the day the sham battle was to take place.
"The day has not yet been definitely determined," said the Colonel, "but
I'll send you word as soon as it is. By the way, my orderly was once a
young French officer, and often talks of the French army. He'll welcome
Hero like a long-lost brother, for he has a soft spot in his heart for
anything connected with his motherland. Ill send him over either this
evening or to-morrow."
That evening the orderly rode over to bring word that the sham battle
would take place the following Thursday, and they were all invited to
witness it. Hero's trial would take place immediately after the battle.
While he stood talking to Mrs. Walton and Miss Allison, Lloyd and Kitty
came running down the hill with Hero close behind them.
The orderly turned with an exclamation of admiration as the dog came
toward him, and held out his hand with a friendly snap of the fingers.
"Ah, old comrade," he called out in French, in a deep, hearty voice.
"Come, give me a greeting! I, too, am from the motherland."
At sound of the familiar speech, the dog went forward, wagging his tail
violently, as if he recognised an old acquaintance. Then he stopped and
snuffed his boots in a puzzled manner, and looked up wistfully into the
orderly's face. It was a stranger he gazed at, yet voice, speech, and
appearance were like the man's who had trained him from a puppy, and he
gave a wriggle of pleasure when the big hand came down on his head, and
the deep voice spoke caressingly to him.
When the orderly mounted his horse. Hero would have followed had not the
Little Colonel called him sharply, grieved and jealous that he should show
such marked interest in a stranger. He turned back at her call, but stood
in the road, looking after his new-found friend, till horse and rider
disappeared down the bridle-path that led through the deep woods to the
other camp.
CHAPTER XV.
THE SENTRY'S MISTAKE
Promptly on Thursday, at the time appointed, the orderly rode over to Camp
Walton to escort the party back to the camp at Calkin's Cliff. The four
boys led the way on their ponies; the rest piled into a great farm wagon
filled with straw, that had been procured from one of the neighbouring
farms for the occasion.
Hero followed obediently, when the Little Colonel ordered him to jump up
beside her, but he turned longing eyes on the orderly, whom he had
welcomed with strong marks of pleasure. It was only their second meeting,
but Hero seemed to regard him as an old friend. He leaped up to lick his
face, and bounded around him with quick, short barks of pleasure that, for
the moment, gave Lloyd a jealous pang. She was hurt that Hero should show
such an evident desire to follow him in preference to her.
"I don't see what makes Hero act so," she said to Mrs. Walton.
"The orderly certainly must bear a strong resemblance to some one whom
Hero knew and loved in France," she replied. "You have owned him less than
two months, and he has been away from France only a year, you must
remember. Everything must seem strange to him here. He was not brought up
to play with children, as many St. Bernards are.
"The other night, at the entertainment, I wondered many times what Hero
must think of his strange surroundings. His life here is different in
every way from all that he has been used to. A dog trained from puppyhood
to the experiences of soldier life would naturally miss the excitement of
camp as much as a soldier suddenly retired to the life of a private
citizen."
"Oh, deah!" sighed Lloyd, "I wish he could talk. I'd ask him if he is
unhappy. _Are_ you homesick, old fellow?"
She took his great head between her little hands and looked earnestly into
his eyes as she asked the question.
"_Do_ you wish you were back in the French army, following the ambulances
and hunting the wounded soldiahs? Seems to me you ought to like it so much
bettah heah in Kentucky, with, nothing to do but play and eat and sleep,
and be loved by everybody."
"But an army dog can't get away from his training any easier than a man,"
laughed the orderly, as he rode on beside the wagon. "It is a part of him.
Hero is a good soldier, and no doubt feels a greater joy in obeying what
he considers a call to duty, than in riding in the wagon at his ease, with
the ladies."
"You know a great deal, perhaps, of this society for the training of
ambulance dogs," said Mrs. Walton.
"Yes," he replied. "I am deeply interested in it. My brother at home keeps
me informed of its movements, and has written me much of Herr Bungartz's
methods. I think I shall have no difficulty in putting the dog through his
manoeuvres, especially as he seems to recognise me and in some way connect
me with his past life."
Fife and drum welcomed the party as they drove into camp, and the party
were at once escorted to seats where they could watch the drill and the
sham battle. It was a familiar scene to the General's little family, and
to Miss Allison, who had visited more than one army post. But some of the
girls put their fingers in their ears when the noise of the rapid firing
began. Hero was greatly excited.
Soon after the noise of the sham battle ceased, the field was prepared for
the dog's trial. Men were hidden behind logs, stretched out in ditches,
and left lying as if dead, in the dense thicket that skirted one side of
the field, for wounded animals, either men or beasts, instinctively crawl
away to die under cover.
With hands almost trembling in their eagerness, Lloyd fastened the flask
and shoulder-bags on the dog. He seemed to know that something unusual was
expected of him, and wagged his tail so violently that he nearly upset the
Little Colonel. He watched every movement of the orderly, who, with a Red
Cross brassard on his arm, was acting as chief of the improvised ambulance
corps.
"Will you give him the order, Miss Lloyd?" he asked, turning politely to
the little girl. Lloyd had pictured this moment several times on the way
over, thinking how proud she would be to stand up like a real Little
Colonel and send her orders ringing over the field before the whole
admiring regiment. But now that the moment had actually come, she blushed
and shrank back, timidly. She was not sure that she could say the strange
French words just as the Major had taught them to her, when such a crowd
of soldiers were standing by to hear.
"Oh, _you_ do it, please," she asked.
"If you will tell me the exact words he has been accustomed to hearing,"
answered the orderly.
Lloyd stammered them out, greatly embarrassed, feeling that her
pronunciation must have grown quite faulty from lack of practice under the
Major's careful training. The orderly repeated them in an undertone, then,
turning to Hero, gave the order in a clear, deep voice, that seemed to
thrill the dog with its familiar ring. Instantly at the sound he started
out across the field. Not a thing that had been taught him in his long,
careful training was forgotten.
The first man he found was lying in a ditch, apparently desperately
wounded. Hero allowed him to help himself from his flask, and drag a
bandage from the bags on his back. Then, standing with his hind feet in
the ditch and his fore feet resting on the bank above him, he gave voice
until the men by the ambulance heard him, and came toward him carrying a
stretcher.
"Look at him!" exclaimed Mrs. Walton, who with the party and several of
the officers had walked down to the hospital tent. "He knows he has done
his duty well. Did you ever see a dog manifest such delight! He fairly
wriggles with joy!"
The praise of the men bearing the stretcher, and especially of the
orderly, seemed to send the dog into a transport of happiness. The second
man lay far on the outskirts of the field, hidden by a thicket of hazel
bushes. This time Hero's frantic barking brought no reply. The men acted
as if deaf to his appeals of help, so in a few minutes, evidently thinking
they were beyond the range of his voice, he picked up the man's cap in his
mouth, and ran back at the top of his speed.
"Good dog!" said the orderly, taking the cap he dropped at his feet. "Go
back now and lead the way."
"If that man had really been wounded, and had crawled under that thicket,"
said Colonel Wayne, "we never could have found him alone. Only the sense
of smell could lead to such a hiding-place. The ambulance might have
passed there a hundred times and never seen a trace of him."
The hunt went on for some time; before it closed, every man personating a
killed or wounded soldier was located and carried to the hospital tent.
When the tired dog was finally allowed to rest, he dropped down at the
orderly's feet, panting.
"That, was certainly fine work," said the Colonel, stooping to pat Hero's
sides. "I suppose nothing could induce you to give him up to the army?"
he asked, turning to Lloyd.
"Oh, no, no, no!" cried Lloyd, as if alarmed at the suggestion, and
pressing Hero's head protectingly against her shoulder. If she had been
proud of him before, she was doubly proud of him now. He had won the
admiration of the entire regiment. Never had he been so praised and
petted. When Mrs. Walton called her party together for their homeward
drive, it was plain to be seen that Hero was loath to leave the camp. A
word from the orderly would have kept him, despite Lloyd's commands to
jump up into the wagon.
As the boys rode on ahead again, Keith said, "It does seem too bad to
force that dog into being a private citizen when he is a born soldier."
"Did you hear what Colonel Wayne told mamma as we left?" asked Ranald. "He
told her that it was reported that some of the animals had escaped from
the circus that was in Louisville yesterday, and that a panther and some
other kind of a beast had been seen in these woods. He laughed and asked
her if she didn't want him to send a guard over to our camp. Of course he
was only joking, but when she saw that I had heard what he said, she told
me not to tell the girls; not to even mention such a thing, or they'd be
so frightened they'd want to break camp and go straight home."
"It would be fun to scare them," said Rob, "but you'd better believe I'll
not say anything if there's any danger of having to go home sooner on
account of it."
"We've got to go day after to-morrow anyhow," said Keith, gloomily. "I
wish I could miss another week of school, but I know papa wouldn't let me,
even if the camp didn't break up."
"Come on!" called Ranald, who had pushed on ahead. "Let's hurry back and
have a good swim before supper."
Not satisfied with the excitement of the day, the girls were no sooner out
of the wagon than some one started a wild game of prisoners' base. Then
they played hide-and-seek among the rocks and trees around the waterfall,
and while they were wiping their flushed faces, panting after the long
run, Kitty proposed that they should have a candy pulling.
Dinah made the candy, but the girls pulled it, running a race to see whose
would be the whitest in a given time. Their arms ached long before they
were done. By the time the boys came stumbling up the hill from their long
swim in the creek, it would be hard to say which group was most tired.
"I'm sure we'll all want to turn in early to-night," said Mrs. Walton at
supper. Freddy was yawning widely, and Elise was almost asleep over her
plate. "You are all tired."
"All but Hero," said Miss Allison, offering him a chicken bone. "He rested
while the others played. You'd like to go through your game every day.
Wouldn't you, old boy?"
There was no story-telling around the camp-fire that night. They gathered
around it, even before the light died out in the sky. Ranald had his
guitar and Allison her mandolin, and they thrummed accompaniments awhile
for the others to sing. But a mighty yawn catching Margery in the middle
of a verse, and Mrs. Walton discovering both Jamie and Freddy sound asleep
on the rug beside her, she proposed that they all go to bed an hour
earlier than usual.
The Little Captain vowed he was too sleepy to blow a single toot on his
bugle, so they went to their tents without the usual sounding of taps. It
was not long before every child was asleep, worn out by the day's hard
play. Mrs. Walton lay awake sometime listening to the sounds outside the
tent. The crackling of underbrush and rustle of dry leaves was familiar
enough in the daytime, but they seemed strangely ominous now that the
lights were out. She could not help thinking of what the Colonel had told
her of the escaped panther. She imagined the panic it would make if it
should suddenly appear in their midst. Then she thought of Hero's
protecting presence, and, raising herself on her elbow, she looked across
the tent to where she knew he lay asleep. At first she could not see even
the ruff of white that made the collar around his tawny throat, for the
moon had slipped behind a cloud, but as she raised herself on her elbow,
and peered intently through the darkness, the faint misty light shone out
again, and she saw Hero plainly, the Little Colonel's outstretched hand
resting on his broad back. Then she lay down again, this time to sleep,
and soon all the little camp was wrapped in the peace and rest of perfect
silence.
Half an hour later Hero lifted his head from between his paws and
listened. Something seemed calling him. He did not know what. Being only a
dog, he could not analyse the thoughts passing through his brain. A
restlessness seized him. He longed to be back among the familiar sights
and sounds of soldier life. This little play camp, where children tried to
make him romp continually, was not home. Locust was not home. This strange
new country full of unfamiliar faces and foreign voices was not home. But
the orderly's voice reminded him of it. Over there were bearded men and
deep voices, and strong hands, guns, and the smell of powder; fife and
drum, and canteens and knapsacks; things that he had seen daily in his
soldier life.
Was it some call to duty that thrilled him, or only a homesick longing? As
he listened with head up, there came ringing, clear and silvery through
the night, the bugle notes from the other camp. At the first sound Hero
was on his feet. He moved noiselessly toward the tent flap, only partially
fastened, and flattening himself against the ground wriggled out.
And if he gave no thought to the little mistress, dreaming inside the
tent, if he left without regret the life of ease and loving care to which
she had brought him, it was not because he was ungrateful, but because he
did not understand. To him his old life woke and called him in the bugle's
blowing. To him duty did not mean soft cushions, and idle days, and the
following of a happy-hearted child at play. It meant long marches and the
guarding of ambulances and the rescue of the dead and dying. A true
soldier's heart beat in the dog's shaggy body, and, obedient to his
instinct and training, he answered the summons when it sounded. With long,
swinging steps he set out in the direction of the bugle-call, taking the
road through the woods that the wagon had travelled that day, and down
which he had watched the orderly disappear. No, not deserting his duty,
but, as he understood it, hurrying back, with faithful heart to the cause
that had always claimed him.
Now and then the moon, coming out fitfully from, behind the clouds, shone
on his great tawny body, touching the white curls of his ruff with a line
of silver. Then he would be lost in darkness again. But he swung on
unerringly, until he was almost in sight of the camp. A little farther on
a sentry paced up and down the picket-line that ran along the edge of the
woods. Hero travelled on toward him, the dry dead leaves rustling under
his paws, and now and then a twig crackling with his weight.
The sentry paused and, listened, wondering what kind of an animal was
coming toward him in the darkness.
"Halt! Who goes there?" he called, sharply. The moon, peeping out at that
instant, seemed to magnify the size of the great creature in his path. He
thought of the panther and the other wild beast, whatever it was,
supposed to be roaming about in the woods. Then the moon disappeared as
suddenly as it had lighted up the scene, and the big paws still pattered
on toward him in the darkness, regardless of his repeated challenge.
As the underbrush crackled again with the weight of the great body now
almost upon him, the sentry raised his rifle. A shot rang out, arousing
the camp not yet fully settled to sleep. The echo bounded back from the
startled hills, and rolled away over the peaceful farms and orchards,
growing fainter and fainter, until only a whisper of it reached the white
tent where the Little Colonel lay dreaming. Then the moon shone out again,
and the sentry, going a few paces forward, looked down in horror at the
silent form stretched out at his feet.
CHAPTER XVI
"TAPS"
The corporal of the guard went running in the direction of the shot, and
here and there an inquiring head, was thrust out of a tent.
"Only a dog shot, sir," he was heard to call out in answer to some
officer's question, as he passed back down the line. "Sentry took him for
a wild beast escaped from the show."
Somebody laughed in reply, and the men who had been aroused by the noise
turned over and went to sleep. They did not know that the corporal hurried
on down to the guard-house, and that as a result of his report there was a
hasty summons for the surgeon. They did not know that it was Hero whom the
sentry bent over, gulping down a feeling in his throat that nearly choked
him, as he saw the blood welling out of the dog's shaggy white breast, and
slowly stiffening the silky hair of his beautiful yellow coat.
The surgeon knelt down beside the dog, and as the clouds hid the moon
again, he turned the light of his lantern on the wound for a careful
examination.
"That was a cracking good shot, Bently," he said. "He never knew what
stopped him."
The sentry turned his head away. "I wouldn't have been the one to take
that dog's life for anything in the world!" he exclaimed. "I'd pretty near
as soon have killed a man. It never entered my head that any tame animal
would come leaping out of the woods that way at this time of night. He
loomed up nearly as big as a lion when the moon shone out on him. The next
minute it was all dark again, and I heard his big soft feet come pattering
through the leaves, straight on toward me. It flashed over me that it must
be one of those escaped circus animals, so I just let loose and blazed
away at him."
The surgeon stood up and looked down at the still form at his feet. "It's
too bad," he said. "He was a grand old dog, the finest St. Bernard I ever
saw. How that little girl loved him! It will just about break her heart
when she finds out what's happened to him."
"Don't!" begged the sentry, huskily. "Don't say anything like that. I feel
bad enough about it now, goodness knows, without your harrowing up my
feelings, talking of the way _she's_ going to feel."
As the surgeon started on, the sentry stopped him. "For heaven's sake,
Mac, don't leave him lying there on the picket-line where I've got to see
him every time I pass. Send somebody to take him away. I'm all unnerved. I
feel as if I'd shot one of my own comrades."
The surgeon looked at him curiously and walked on. Nobody was sent to take
the dog away, but a little while later the sentry was relieved from duty,
and another soldier kept guard over the silent camp, pacing back and forth
past the Red Cross Hero, sleeping his last sleep under the light of the
sentinel stars.
Somebody draped a flag across him before the camp was astir next morning.
"Well, why not?" the man asked when he was joked about paying so much
attention to a dead dog. "Why not? He was a war dog, wasn't he? It's no
more than his due. I was the man he found in the ditch yesterday. As far
as his intention and good will went, he did as much to save me as if I had
been really lying there a wounded soldier. When he came leaping down there
into the ditch after me, licking my face in such a friendly fashion and
holding still so that I could help myself to the flask and bandages, I
thought how grateful a fellow would feel to him if he were really rescued
by him that way. It was all make-believe to me, but it was dead earnest to
the dog, and he did his part as faithfully as any soldier who ever wore a
uniform."
"You're right," said a young lieutenant, sitting near. "If for no other
reason than that he was in the service of the Red Cross, he has a right to
the respect of every man that calls himself a soldier, no matter what flag
he follows."
Later in the morning, when the orderly rode into the little picnic camp,
the girls were away. They were down by the waterfall digging ferns and
mosses to take home. "We are thinking of breaking up camp this afternoon,"
Mrs. Walton told him. "The weather looks so threatening that I have sent
for the wagonette to come for us, and I was about to send over to your
camp to see if Hero had wandered back there. He has not been seen since
last night. He was lying by Lloyd's cot just before I went to sleep, but
this morning he is nowhere to be found. Lloyd is distressed. I told her
that probably the drill yesterday awakened all his love for the old life,
and that he might have been drawn back to it. Was I right? Have you seen
him?"
"Yes," said the orderly, hesitating. "I saw him, but I find it hard to
tell you how and where, Mrs. Walton." He paused again, and then hurried
on with the explanation, as if anxious to have it over as soon as
possible.
"He was shot last night by mistake on the picket-line. The sentry is all
broken up over it, poor fellow, and the whole camp regrets it more than I
can tell. You see, after yesterday's performance we almost claimed the dog
as one of us. Colonel Wayne has made me the bearer of his deepest regrets.
He especially deplores the occurrence on account of the dog's little
mistress, knowing what a great grief it will be to her. He wishes, if you
think it will be any consolation to her, to give Hero a military funeral,
and bury him with the honours due a brave soldier."
"I am sure that Lloyd will want that," said Mrs, Walton. "She will
appreciate it deeply, when she understands what a mark of respect to Hero
such an attention would be. Tell Colonel Wayne, please, that I gladly
accept the offer in her behalf, and will send Ranald over later, to
arrange for it."
The orderly rode away, and Mrs. Walton turned to her sister, exclaiming,
"Poor little Lloyd! I confess I am not brave enough to face her grief when
she first hears the news. You will have to tell her, Allison. You know her
so much better than I. We might as well hurry the preparations for
leaving. No one will care to stay a moment longer, now this has happened.
It will cast a gloom over the entire party."
"Maybe it would be better not to tell her until after she gets home,"
suggested Miss Allison. She had soothed the childish griefs of nearly
every child in the Valley, at some time or another, but she felt that this
was the most serious one that had fallen to her lot to comfort.
"I'm sure it would be impossible to get Lloyd away from here without Hero,
unless she knew," was the answer. "I heard her tell Kitty this morning
that nobody could make her go without him. She said if he wasn't back by
the time we were ready to start, we could go on without her, and she would
hunt for him if it took all fall."
While they were still discussing it the boys came running back to camp
much excited. They had met the orderly.
"Oh, the poor dog!" mourned Keith. "What a shame for the poor old fellow
to be shot down that way. It seems almost as bad as if it had been one of
us boys that was killed."
Ranald and Rob joined in with praise of his many lovable traits, talking
of his death as if it were a lifelong friend they had lost; but Malcolm
turned away with an anxious glance to the woods, where he could hear the
laughing voices of the girls.
"Poor little Princess Winsome," he thought. "It will nearly break her
heart," and he wished with all the earnestness of the real Sir Feal, that
by some knightly service, no matter how hard, he could save his little
friend from this sorrow.
The girls came strolling up, presently, so occupied with their spoils that
no one noticed the boy's serious faces but Lloyd. The moment she caught
Malcolm's sympathetic glance she was sure something had happened to Hero.
"Oh, what is it?" she began, the tears gathering in her eyes as she felt
the unspoken, sympathy of the little group. Leaving Mrs. Walton to tell
the other girls, Miss Allison drew Lloyd aside, saying as she led her down
toward the spring, an arm around her waist, "I have a message for you,
Lloyd, from Colonel Wayne. Let's go down to the rocks by ourselves."
A sympathetic silence fell on the little circle left behind as they heard
Lloyd cry out, "Shot my dog? Shot _Hero?_ Oh, he ought to be killed! How
could he do such a cruel thing!"
"But he feels dreadfully about it," said Miss Allison. "The orderly said
that, big, strong man though he was, the tears stood in his eyes when he
saw what he had done, and he kept saying, 'I wouldn't have done it for the
world.'"
Nearly all the girls were crying by this time, and Malcolm turned his head
so that he could not see the fair little head pressed against Miss
Allison's shoulder, as she clung to her sobbing.
"Think how it must have hurt poah Hero's feelin's," Lloyd was saying, "to
go back to their camp so trustin' and happy, thinkin' the men would be so
glad to see him, and that he was doin' his duty, and then to have one of
them stand up and send a bullet through his deah, lovin' old heart. Oh, I
can't _beah_ it," she screamed. "Oh, I can't! I can't! It seems as if it
would kill me to think of him lyin' ovah there all cold and stiff, with
the blood on his lovely white and yellow curls, and know that he'll nevah,
nevah again jump up to lick my hands, and put his paws on my shouldahs.
He'll nevah come to meet me any moah, waggin' his tail and lookin' up into
my face with his deah lovin' eyes. Oh, Miss Allison! I can't stand it!
It's just breakin' my heart!" Burying her face in Miss Allison's lap, she
sobbed and cried until her tears were all spent.
It was a subdued little party that rode back to the Valley, a few hours
later. Not only sympathy for Lloyd kept them quiet, but each one mourned
the loss of the gentle, lovable playfellow who had come to such an
untimely end after this week of happy camp life with them.
* * * * *
Under the locusts that evening, just as the sun was going down, came the
tread of many marching feet. It was the tramp, tramp of the soldiers who
were bringing home the Little Colonel's Hero, All the men who had been
most interested in his performances the day before, had volunteered to
follow Colonel Wayne, and the long line made an imposing showing, as it
stretched up the avenue after him.
Lloyd watched the approach from her seat on the porch beside her father.
All the camping party were waiting with her, except the four boys who rode
at the head of the procession, Ranald and Malcolm first, then Rob and
Keith. Lloyd hid her eyes as Lad and Tarbaby came into view behind them.
"Look," said her father gently, pointing to the flag-draped burden they
drew. "How much better it was for Hero to have been shot by a soldier and
brought home with military honours, than to have met the fate of an
ordinary dog--been poisoned, or mangled, by a train, as might have
happened, or even died of a painful, feeble old age. The Major would have
chosen this? so would Hero, if he could have understood."
There was more comfort in that thought than in anything that had been said
to her before, and Lloyd wiped her eyes, and sat up to watch the ceremony
that followed, with a feeling of pride that made her almost cheerful.
On they came to the beat of the muffled drum, halting under a great
locust-tree that stood by itself on the lawn, in sight of the library
windows, like a giant sentinel. There the boys dismounted to lower Hero
into the grave that Walker and Alec had just finished digging. Then the
coloured men, spreading the sod quickly back in place, stepped aside from
the low mound they had made, and Lloyd saw that it was smooth and green.
She started violently when the soldiers, drawn up in line, fired a parting
volley over it, but sat quietly back again when the Little Captain stepped
forward and raised his bugle. The sun was sinking low behind the locusts,
and in the golden glow filling the western sky, he softly sounded taps.
"Lights out" now for the faithful old Hero! The last bugle-call that
sounded for him was in a foreign land, but it was not as a stranger and an
alien they left him.
The flag he followed floats farther than the Stars and Stripes, waves
wider than the banner of the Kaiser. It is a world-wide flag, that flag of
perpetual peace which bears the Red Cross of Geneva. In its shadow,
whether on land or sea, all patriot hearts are at home, and under that
flag they left him.
* * * * *
A square white stone stands now under the locust where the Little Captain
sounded taps at the close of that September day. On it gleams the Red
Cross, in whose service all of Hero's lessons had been learned. But the
daily sight of it from her bedroom window no longer brings pain to the
Little Colonel. Hero is only a tender memory now, and she counts the Red
Cross above him as another talisman, like the little ring and the silver
scissors, to remind her that only through unselfish service to others can
one reach the happiness that is highest and best.
Time flies fast under the locusts. Sometimes to Papa Jack it seems only
yesterday that she clattered up and down the wide halls with her
grandfather's spurs buckled to her tiny feet. But if he misses the charm
of the baby voice that called to him then, or the childish mischievousness
of his Little Colonel, he finds a greater one in the flower-like beauty of
the tall, slender girl who stands beside the gilded harp, and sings to
him softly in the candle-light. And it is Betty's song of service that is
oftenest on her lips:
"My godmother bids me spin,
That my heart may not be sad;
Sing and spin for my brother's sake,
And the spinning makes me glad."
She knows that she can never be a Joan of Arc or a Clara Barton, and her
name will never be written in America's hall of fame, but with the sweet
ambition in her heart to make life a little lovelier for every one she
touches, she is growing up into a veritable Princess Winsome.
Often as she sings, Betty closes her book to listen, thrilled with the old
feeling that always comes with the music of the harp. It is as if she were
"away off from everything, and high up where it is wide and open, and
where the stars are." The strange, beautiful thoughts she can find no
words for still dance on ahead, like shining will-'o-the-wisps, but she
knows that she shall surely find words for them some day, and that many
besides the Little Colonel will sing her verses and find comfort in her
songs.
To both Betty and Lloyd the land of Someday and the happy land of Now lie
very close together in their day-dreams, as side by side they go to
school these bright October mornings, or stroll slowly homeward in the
golden afternoons, under the shade of the friendly old locusts.
THE END.
Selections from L.C. Page & Company's Books for Girls
* * * * *
=THE BLUE BONNET SERIES=
_Each large 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, per volume $ 2.00 The
seven volumes, boxed as a set 14.00_
A TEXAS BLUE BONNET
BY CAROLINE E. JACOBS.
BLUE BONNET'S RANCH PARTY
BY CAROLINE E. JACOBS AND EDYTH ELLERBECK READ.
BLUE BONNET IN BOSTON
BY CAROLINE E. JACOBS AND LELA HORN RICHARDS.
BLUE BONNET KEEPS HOUSE
BY CAROLINE E. JACOBS AND LELA HORN RICHARDS.
BLUE BONNET--DÉBUTANTE
BY LELA HORN RICHARDS.
BLUE BONNET OF THE SEVEN STARS
BY LELA HORN RICHARDS.
BLUE BONNET'S FAMILY
BY LELA HORN RICHARDS.
"Blue Bonnet has the very finest kind of wholesome, honest, lively
girlishness and cannot but make friends with every one who meets her
through these books about her."--_Chicago Inter-Ocean._
"Blue Bonnet and her companions are real girls, the kind that one would
like to have in one's home."--_New York Sun._
THE LITTLE COLONEL BOOKS
(Trade Mark)
BY ANNIE FELLOWS JOHNSTON
_Each large 12mo, cloth, illustrated, per volume $2.00_
THE LITTLE COLONEL STORIES
(Trade Mark)
Being three "Little Colonel" stories in the Cosy Corner Series, "The
Little Colonel," "Two Little Knights of Kentucky," and "The Giant
Scissors," in a single volume.
THE LITTLE COLONEL STORIES:
Second Series (Trade Mark)
Tales about characters that appear in the Little Colonel Series. "Ole
Mammy's Torment," "The Three Tremonts," and "The Little Colonel in
Switzerland."
THE LITTLE COLONEL'S HOUSE PARTY
(Trade Mark)
THE LITTLE COLONEL'S HOLIDAYS
(Trade Mark)
THE LITTLE COLONEL'S HERO
(Trade Mark)
THE LITTLE COLONEL AT BOARDING SCHOOL
(Trade Mark)
THE LITTLE COLONEL IN ARIZONA
(Trade Mark)
THE LITTLE COLONEL'S CHRISTMAS VACATION
(Trade Mark)
THE LITTLE COLONEL, MAID OF HONOR
(Trade Mark)
THE LITTLE COLONEL'S KNIGHT COMES RIDING
(Trade Mark)
THE LITTLE COLONEL'S CHUM, MARY WARE
(Trade Mark)
MARY WARE IN TEXAS
MARY WARE'S PROMISED LAND
_These thirteen volumes, boxed as A SET, $26.00_
FOR PIERRE'S SAKE AND OTHER STORIES
_Cloth, 12mo, illustrated by Billie Chapman $1.75_
"'For Pierre's Sake,' who works so hard to scrape together the pennies
necessary for a wreath for his brother's grave, 'The Rain Maker,' who
tries to bring rain to the drought stricken fields--these and many others
will take their places in The Children's Hall of Fame, which exists in the
heart of childhood."--_Portsmouth (N.H.) Herald_.
THE ROAD OF THE LOVING HEART
_Cloth decorated, with special designs and illustrations_ $1.25
This story of a little princess and her faithful pet bear, who finally
_do_ discover "The Road of the Loving Heart," is a masterpiece of sympathy
and understanding and beautiful thought.
=THE JOHNSTON JEWEL SERIES=
_Each small 16mo, decorative boards, per volume $0.75_
IN THE DESERT OF WAITING:
THE LEGEND OF CAMELBACK MOUNTAIN.
THE THREE WEAVERS:
A FAIRY TALE FOR FATHERS AND MOTHERS AS WELL AS FOR THEIR DAUGHTERS.
KEEPING TRYST:
A TALE OF KING ARTHUR'S TIME.
THE LEGEND OF THE BLEEDING HEART
THE RESCUE OF PRINCESS WINSOME:
A FAIRY PLAY FOR OLD AND YOUNG.
THE JESTER'S SWORD
* * * * *
THE LITTLE COLONEL'S GOOD TIMES BOOK
_Uniform in size with the Little Colonel Series $2.50_
_Bound in white kid (morocco) and gold 6.00_
Cover design and decorations by Peter Verberg.
"A mighty attractive volume in which the owner may record the good times
she has on decorated pages, and under the directions as it were of Annie
Fellows Johnston."--_Buffalo Express_.
* * * * *
=HILDEGARDE-MARGARET SERIES=
BY LAURA E. RICHARDS
Eleven Volumes
The Hildegarde-Margaret Series, beginning with "Queen Hildegarde" and
ending with "The Merryweathers," make one of the best and most popular
series of books for girls ever written.
_Each large 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated per volume $1.75_
_The eleven volumes boxed as a set $19.25_
LIST OF TITLES
QUEEN HILDEGARDE
HILDEGARDE'S HOLIDAY
HILDEGARDE'S HOME
HILDEGARDE'S NEIGHBORS
HILDEGARDE'S HARVEST
THREE MARGARETS
MARGARET MONTFORT
PEGGY
RITA
FERNLEY HOUSE
THE MERRYWEATHERS
* * * * *
=HONOR BRIGHT SERIES=
BY LAURA E. RICHARDS
_Each one volume, cloth decorative, 12mo, illustrated $1.75_
HONOR BRIGHT
"This is a story that rings as true and honest as the name of the young
heroine--Honor--and not only the young girls, but the old ones will find
much to admire and to commend in the beautiful character of
Honor."--_Constitution, Atlanta, Ga._
HONOR BRIGHT'S NEW ADVENTURE
"Girls will love the story and it has plot enough to interest the older
reader as well."--_St. Louis Daily Globe-Democrat._
* * * * *
SIX GIRLS
(60th thousand) BY FANNY BELLE IRVING.
_Cloth decorative, 12mo, illustrated by A.G. Learned $1.65_
No book has enjoyed a steadier and longer popularity than "Six Girls,"
written by a niece of Washington Irving. It has won its way by the best
kind of advertising--personal recommendations among readers.
THREE HUNDRED THINGS A BRIGHT GIRL CAN DO
BY LILA ELIZABETH KELLEY.
_Cloth decorative, 12mo, illustrated by the author $2.50_
A complete treasury of suggestions on games, indoor and outdoor sports,
handiwork, embroidery, sewing and cooking, scientific experiments,
puzzles, candy-making, home decoration, physical culture, etc.
THE SECRET VALLEY
BY MRS. HOBART-HAMPDEN.
_Cloth 12mo, illustrated, with color jacket $1.75_
In addition to an excellent action story, young readers will find in this
book descriptions of India, land of mystery, which are accurate and
interesting.
SECRETS INSIDE
BY M.M. DANCY MCCLENDON.
_Cloth, 12mo, illustrated by Dean Freeman $1.75_
"This is a story about girls for girls. The author has made a worthwhile
contribution to juvenile literature."--_Rochester Sunday American._
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THE CAPTAIN JANUARY SERIES
600,000 volumes of the "Captain January" Series have already been sold.
"Mrs. Richards has made for herself a little niche apart in the literary
world, from her delicate treatment of New England village life."--_Boston
Post._
CAPTAIN JANUARY. _Star Bright Edition._
_Profusely illustrated by Frank T. Merrill $1.75_
STAR BRIGHT. A sequel to "Captain January."
_Mrs. Richards' latest book uniform with above. $1.75_
Wherein the Captain's little girl reaches the romantic period of her
career, and faces the world.
_The two volumes attractively boxed as a set. $3.50_
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The following titles are illustrated by Frank T. Merrill
CAPTAIN JANUARY. _School Edition_
(285th thousand) _Net $1.00_
MELODY. $1.00
The Story of a Child.
_Cloth decorative, illustrated by Frank T. Merrill, each $.90_
MARIE.
A companion to "Melody."
ROSIN THE BEAU.
A sequel to "Marie."
SNOW WHITE;
Or, The House in the Wood.
JIM OF HELLAS;
Or, in Durance Vile, and a companion story, "Bethesda Pool."
"SOME SAY."
And a companion story, "Neighbors in Cyrus."
NAUTILUS.
"'Nautilus' Is by far the best product of the author's powers."--_Boston
Globe._
ISLA HERON.
This interesting story is written in the author's usual charming manner.
* * * * *
BARBARA WINTHROP SERIES
BY HELEN KATHERINE BROUGHALL
_Each one volume, cloth decorative, 12mo, illustrated $2.00_
BARBARA WINTHROP AT BOARDING SCHOOL
BARBARA WINTHROP AT CAMP
BARBARA WINTHROP: GRADUATE
BARBARA WINTHROP ABROAD
"Full of adventure--initiations, joys, picnics, parties, tragedies,
vacation and all. Just what girls like, books in which 'dreams come true,'
entertaining 'gossipy' books overflowing with conversation."--_Salt Lake
City Deseret News._
High ideals and a real spirit of fun underlie the stories. They will be a
decided addition to the bookshelves of the young girl for whom a holiday
gift is contemplated.
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=DOCTOR'S LITTLE GIRL SERIES=
BY MARION AMES TAGGART
_Each large 12mo, cloth, illustrated, per volume $1.75_
THE DOCTOR'S LITTLE GIRL
"A charming story of the ups and downs of the life of a dear little
maid."--_The Churchman._
SWEET NANCY:
THE FURTHER ADVENTURES OF THE DOCTOR'S LITTLE GIRL.
"Just the sort of book to amuse, while its influence cannot but be
elevating."--_New York Sun._
NANCY, THE DOCTOR'S LITTLE PARTNER
"The story is sweet and fascinating, such as many girls of wholesome
tastes will enjoy."--_Springfield Union._
NANCY PORTER'S OPPORTUNITY
"Nancy shows throughout that she is a splendid young woman, with plenty of
pluck."--_Boston Globe._
NANCY AND THE COGGS TWINS
"The story is refreshing."--_-New York Sun._
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=THE MARJORY-JOE SERIES=
BY ALICE E. ALLEN
_Each one volume, cloth decorative, 12mo, illustrated, per volume $1.50_
JOE, THE CIRCUS BOY AND ROSEMARY
These are two of Miss Allen's earliest and most successful stories,
combined in a single volume to meet the insistent demands from young
people for these two particular tales.
THE MARTIE TWINS: Continuing the Adventures of Joe, the Circus Boy
"The chief charm of the story is that it contains so much of human nature.
It is so real that it touches the heart strings."--_-New York Standard._
MARJORY, THE CIRCUS GIRL
A sequel to "Joe, the Circus Boy," and "The Martie Twins."
MARJORY AT THE WILLOWS
Continuing the story of Marjory, the Circus Girl.
"Miss Allen does not write impossible stories, but delightfully pins her
little folk right down to this life of ours, in which she ranges
vigorously and delightfully."--_Boston Ideas._
MARJORY'S HOUSE PARTY: Or, What Happened at Clover Patch
"Miss Allen certainly knows how to please the children and tells them
stories that never fail to charm."_--Madison Courier._
MARJORY'S DISCOVERY
This new addition to the popular MARJORY-JOE SERIES is as lovable and
original as any of the other creations of this writer of charming stories.
We get little peeps at the precious twins, at the healthy minded Joe and
sweet Marjory. There is a bungalow party, which lasts the entire summer,
in which all of the characters of the previous MARJORY-JOE stories
participate, and their happy times are delightfully depicted.
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THE PEGGY RAYMOND SERIES
BY HARRIET LUMMIS SMITH
_Each one volume, cloth, decorative, 12mo, illustrated, per volume $1.75_
PEGGY RAYMOND'S SUCCESS: OR, THE GIRLS OF FRIENDLY TERRACE.
"It is a book that cheers, that inspires to higher thinking; it knits
hearts; it unfolds neighborhood plans in a way that makes one tingle to
try carrying them out, and most of all it proves that hi daily life,
threads of wonderful issues are being woven in with what appears the most
ordinary of material, but which in the end brings results stranger than
the most thrilling fiction."--_Belle Kellogg Towne in The Young People's
Weekly, Chicago._
PEGGY RAYMOND'S VACATION
"It is a clean, wholesome, hearty story, well told and full of incident.
It carries one through experiences that hearten and brighten the
day."--_Utica, N.Y., Observer._
PEGGY RAYMOND'S SCHOOL DAYS
"It is a bright, entertaining story, with happy girls, good times, natural
development, and a gentle earnestness of general tone."--_The Christian
Register, Boston._
PEGGY RAYMOND'S FRIENDLY TERRACE QUARTETTE
"The story is told in easy and entertaining style and is a most delightful
narrative, especially for young people. It will also make the older
readers feel younger, for while reading it they will surely live again in
the days of their youth."--_Troy Budget._
PEGGY RAYMOND'S WAY
"The author has again produced a story that is replete with wholesome
incidents and makes Peggy more lovable than ever as a companion and
leader."--_World of Books._
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THE HADLEY HALL SERIES
BY LOUISE M. BREITENBACH
_Each large 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, per volume $1.65_
ALMA AT HADLEY HALL
"The author is to be congratulated on having written such an appealing
book for girls."--_Detroit Free Press._
ALMA'S SOPHOMORE YEAR
"It cannot fail to appeal to the lovers of good things in girls'
books."--_Boston Herald._
ALMA'S JUNIOR YEAR.
"The diverse characters in the boarding-school are strongly drawn, the
Incidents are well developed and the action is never dull."--_The Boston
Herald._
ALMA'S SENIOR YEAR
"A healthy, natural atmosphere breathes from every chapter."--_Boston
Transcript._
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DOCTOR'S LITTLE GIRL SERIES
BY MARION AMES TAGGART
_Each large 12mo, cloth, illustrated, per volume $1.75_
THE DOCTOR'S LITTLE GIRL
"A charming story of the ups and downs of the life of a dear little
maid"--_The Churchman._
SWEET NANCY: THE FURTHER ADVENTURES OF THE DOCTOR'S LITTLE GIRL.
"Just the sort of book to amuse, while its influence cannot but be
elevating."--_New York Sun._
NANCY, THE DOCTOR'S LITTLE PARTNER
"The story is sweet and fascinating, such as many girls of wholesome
tastes will enjoy."--_Springfield Union._
NANCY PORTER'S OPPORTUNITY
"Nancy shows throughout that she is a splendid young woman, with plenty of
pluck."--_Boston Globe._
NANCY AND THE COGGS TWINS
"The story is refreshing."--_New York Sun._
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STORIES BY EVALEEN STEIN
_Each one volume, 12mo, illustrated $1.65_
GABRIEL AND THE HOUR BOOK
A LITTLE SHEPHERD OF PROVENCE
THE CHRISTMAS PORRINGER
THE LITTLE COUNT OF NORMANDY
PEPIN: A Tale of Twelfth Night
CHILDREN'S STORIES
THE CIRCUS DWARF STORIES
WHEN FAIRIES WERE FRIENDLY
TROUBADOUR TALES
"No works in juvenile fiction contain so many of the elements that stir
the hearts of children and grown-ups as well as do the stories so
admirably told by this author."--_Louisville Daily Courier_.
"Evaleen Stein's stories are music in prose--they are like pearls on a
chain of gold--each word seems exactly the right word in the right place;
the stories sing themselves out, they are so beautifully expressed."--_The
Lafayette Leader_.
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Selections from L.C. Page & Company's Books for Boys
* * * * *
FAMOUS LEADERS SERIES
_Each one volume, cloth decorative, 12mo, illustrated by photographs, per
volume_ ... _$2.00_
BY CHARLES H.L. JOHNSTON
("Uncle Chas.")
_"If you see that it's by 'Uncle Chas,' you know that it's historically
correct"--Review._
FAMOUS CAVALRY LEADERS
FAMOUS INDIAN CHIEFS
FAMOUS SCOUTS
FAMOUS PRIVATEERSMEN AND ADVENTURERS OF THE SEA
FAMOUS FRONTIERSMEN AND HEROES OF THE BORDER
FAMOUS DISCOVERERS AND EXPLORERS OF AMERICA
FAMOUS GENERALS OF THE GREAT WAR
Who Led the United States and Her Allies to a Glorious Victory.
FAMOUS AMERICAN ATHLETES OF TODAY,
First Series.
_Cloth 12mo, illustrated from specially autographed photographs $2.50_
FAMOUS AMERICAN ATHLETES OF TODAY,
Second Series.
_A companion volume to the above $2.50_
FAMOUS AMERICAN ATHLETES OF TODAY,
Third Series.
_By Trentwell M. White $2.50_
FAMOUS AMERICAN ATHLETES OF TODAY,
Fourth Series.
_By Charles H.L. Johnston $2.50_
FAMOUS AMERICAN ATHLETES OF TODAY,
Fifth Series.
_By Leroy Atkinson $2.50_
_The following except as otherwise noted $2.00_
BY EDWIN WILDMAN
THE FOUNDERS OF AMERICA (Lives of Great Americans from the Revolution to
the Monroe Doctrine)
THE BUILDERS OF AMERICA (Lives of Great Americans from the Monroe Doctrine
to the Civil War)
FAMOUS LEADERS OF CHARACTER (Lives of Great Americans from the Civil War
to Today)
FAMOUS LEADERS OF INDUSTRY.--First Series
FAMOUS LEADERS OF INDUSTRY.--Second Series
BY TRENTWELL M. WHITE
FAMOUS LEADERS OF INDUSTRY.--Third Series $2.50
BY HARRY IRVING SHUMWAY
FAMOUS LEADERS OF INDUSTRY.--Fourth Series $2.50
'These biographies drive home the truth that just as every soldier of
Napoleon carried a marshal's baton in his knapsack, so every American
youngster carries potential success under his hat.'
BY CHARLES LEE LEWIS
_Professor, United States Naval Academy, Annapolis_
FAMOUS AMERICAN NAVAL OFFICERS
With a complete index.
"In connection with the life of John Paul Jones, Stephen Decatur, and
other famous naval officers, he groups the events of the period in which
the officer distinguished himself, and combines the whole into a colorful
and stirring narrative."--_Boston Herald._
* * * * *
THE BOYS STORY OF THE RAILROAD SERIES
BY BURTON E. STEVENSON
_Each large 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated $1.75_
THE YOUNG SECTION-HAND;
OR, THE ADVENTURES OF ALLAN WEST
"The whole range of section railroading is covered in the
story."--_Chicago Post._
THE YOUNG TRAIN DISPATCHER
"A vivacious account of the varied and often hazardous nature of railroad
life."--_Congregationalist._
THE YOUNG TRAIN MASTER
"It is a book that can be unreservedly commended to anyone who loves a
good, wholesome, thrilling, informing yarn."--_Passaic News._
THE YOUNG APPRENTICE;
OR, ALLAN WEST'S CHUM.
"The story is intensely interesting."--_Baltimore Sun._
* * * * *
THE DAYS OF CHIVALRY SERIES
Of Worth While Classics for Boys and Girls
_Revised and Edited for the Modern Reader_
_Each large 12mo, illustrated and with a poster jacket in full color
$2.00_
THE DAYS OF CHIVALRY
BY W.H. DAVENPORT ADAMS.
THE CHAPLET OF PEARLS
BY C.M. YONGE.
ERLING THE BOLD
BY R.M. BALLYNTYNE.
WINNING HIS KNIGHTHOOD;
OR, THE ADVENTURES OF RAOULF DE GYSSAGE.
BY H. TURING BRUCE.
"Tales which ring to the clanking of armour, tales of marches and
counter-marches, tales of wars, but tales which bring peace; a peace and
contentment in the knowledge that right, even in the darkest times, has
survived and conquered."--_Portland Evening Express._
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THE YOUNG PIONEER SERIES
BY HARRISON ADAMS
_Each 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, per volume $1.65_
THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE OHIO;
OR, CLEARING THE WILDERNESS.
THE PIONEER BOYS ON THE GREAT LAKES;
OR, ON THE TRAIL OF THE IROQUOIS.
THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE MISSISSIPPI;
OR, THE HOMESTEAD IN THE WILDERNESS.
THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE MISSOURI;
OR, IN THE COUNTRY OF THE SIOUX.
THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE YELLOWSTONE;
OR, LOST IN THE LAND OF WONDERS.
THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE COLUMBIA;
OR, IN THE WILDERNESS OF THE GREAT NORTHWEST.
THE PIONEER BOYS OF THE COLORADO;
OR, BRAVING THE PERILS OF THE GRAND CANYON COUNTRY.
THE PIONEER BOYS OF KANSAS;
OR, PRAIRIE HOME IN BUFFALO LAND.
"Such books as these are an admirable means of stimulating among the young
Americans of to-day interest in the story of their pioneer ancestors and
the early days of the Republic."--_Boston Globe._
"Not only interesting, but instructive as well and shows the sterling type
of character which these days of self-reliance and trial
produced."--_American Tourist, Chicago._
"The stories are full of spirited action and contain much valuable
historical information. Just the sort of reading a boy will enjoy
immensely."--_Boston Herald._
* * * * *
MINUTE BOY SERIES
By James Otis and Edward Stratemeyer
_Each one volume, cloth decorative, 12mo, fully illustrated, per volume_
_$1.50_
This series of books for boys needs no recommendation. We venture to say
that there are few boys of any age in this broad land who do not know and
love both these authors and their stirring tales.
These books, as shown by their titles, deal with periods in the history of
the development of our great country which are of exceeding interest to
every patriotic American boy--and girl. Places and personages of
historical interest are here presented to the young reader in story form,
and a great deal of real, information is unconsciously gathered.
THE MINUTE BOYS OF PHILADELPHIA
THE MINUTE BOYS OF BOSTON
THE MINUTE BOYS OF NEW YORK CITY
THE MINUTE BOYS OF LONG ISLAND
THE MINUTE BOYS OF SOUTH CAROLINA
THE MINUTE BOYS OF THE WYOMING VALLEY
THE MINUTE BOYS OF THE MOHAWK VALLEY
THE MINUTE BOYS OF THE GREEN MOUNTAINS
THE MINUTE BOYS OF BUNKER HILL
THE MINUTE BOYS OF LEXINGTON
THE MINUTE BOYS OF YORKTOWN