Nell’s Dilemma
A TURN in the trail revealed steeply rising ground, which caused Dick
Bronson, spent as he was, to stand still and groan.
It was two days since he had lost his horse in a swamp. The poor
creature had been sucked under by the treacherous mud, and as he was
unable to extricate it, he had shot the animal with his revolver to end
its sufferings.
Since then he had walked and walked, following this mysterious trail
which appeared to lead to nowhere, yet which was sufficiently open and
well defined to make him certain that he must in time arrive at some
habitation, if only he kept on long enough.
But a big forest is an awkward place for a man on foot to get lost in;
and Dick Bronson was well aware that the trail might meander on for
another thirty miles without passing a human habitation, only he had
come to the limit of his endurance, and could go no farther.
As he leaned against the trunk of a mighty cedar, wondering if death
from starvation and exhaustion were a long pain, or whether merciful
stupor would soon claim him, his weary gaze swept earth and sky in mute
farewell.
Then he was suddenly roused to new life and energy by perceiving a thin
column of smoke rising against the clear blue of the sky, immediately on
the top of the high ground, where the trees grew with wide, open spaces
between.
Smoke meant fire, and fire meant people, which in turn meant food of
some sort. And the man who had been fasting so long felt that it
mattered little what kind of food it was, if only it could stay the
gnawing pangs of hunger and give him back his strength once more.
Slowly and painfully he breasted the sharp ascent, only to find that
another and longer slope lay before him. But at the top of this second
hill stood a wooden house in plain view, with a hospitably open door,
and smoke rising from the chimney.
He could not be said to quicken his steps, for he was too worn out for
that. But the sight of the open door and the chimney smoke revived his
flagging hopes and turned his thoughts from death to life again.
As he came nearer to the house he saw something which, at first sight,
he took for a baby’s cradle, with a little awning over it, just at the
edge of the forest. Coming nearer, he saw it was no cradle, but a huge
dog lying under a tent made of muslin or mosquito netting.
The creature lifted its head feebly, and uttered a low, warning growl at
the approach of the stranger; but as it did not move, and was apparently
sick or wounded, Dick Bronson came on without hesitation, and, passing
the little tent, walked with feeble, uncertain steps towards the open
door.
He caught at the door-frame to keep himself from lurching forward into
the house, and then found himself confronted by a tall, thin girl in
nondescript attire, of which the only details he could remember were a
scanty skirt, deplorably shabby, and a man’s holland jacket.
“Will you give me food and shelter for a day or two? I am done up with
wandering, and my horse died the day before yesterday.”
Dick’s voice was shaken and unsteady from all that he had gone through,
and he looked even more an object of pity than he supposed.
The girl’s eyes were mournful, but she only shook her head, answering
regretfully—
“I’m very sorry for you, but this isn’t a hotel, and we don’t cater for
strangers.”
“You will surely let me have some food. I can pay you; and can’t you see
that I am starving?”
His voice was hoarse and urgent now, and again he had to lay fast hold
of the door-frame to keep himself from falling.
“I will give you some food, though I’m afraid you won’t think it is very
nice. But you can’t stop here, because granfer wouldn’t let you. Button
End, where Joe Lipton lives, isn’t more than ten miles away. He’ll take
you in for certain, and make you comfortable too. They often have people
there,” the girl answered.
Dick laughed harshly. “A quarter of a mile I might manage by crawling;
but ten miles is as much out of the question as a journey to the moon.”
The girl looked troubled, then said, in a soothing tone—
“Come in and sit down, while I get you something to eat. Perhaps if you
have a good rest you may——”
But the sentence was not finished, for at that moment Dick swayed
towards her, and would have gone crash on the floor at her feet had she
not caught him in her strong young arms, and so broken his fall. Only
staying to thrust an old coat of her grandfather’s under his head for a
pillow, she darted to the fireplace, where a pot of broth was being kept
warm in the embers, and, pouring some of it into a cup, came back with
it, and kneeling by the stranger’s side tried to put some of it in his
mouth with a spoon.
The broth was some that she had made for the sick dog, but it was strong
and nourishing, and it was all she had. When a few spoonfuls had
trickled down his neck, Dick came back to his senses again, and, being
supported by the girl, was able to drink the rest of the broth in feeble
gulps.
“Ah, you were nearly done for that time, you poor thing!” she said, in
kindly tones, her lustrous eyes shining with a beautiful womanly pity.
“Yes, very nearly. If it had not been for you, I think I must have gone
under,” he murmured weakly.
His senses were reeling still, but the broth was doing him good. Yet
even now he failed to understand how low down in his strength he had
come, until, making an effort to rise and stand on his feet, he sank
helpless to the ground again.
There was anxiety mingled with the pity on the girl’s face. It was plain
to her that the stranger would not be able to continue his journey for
hours, probably days, and it was the thought of what Doss Umpey would
say to this tax on his hospitality, that was troubling her so sorely
now.
“If only you’d been at Joe Lipton’s place, now, instead of here, they
could have made you ever so comfortable,” she said, with a sigh of
regret, as she hovered about him in anxious wonder as to how she was to
get him on to the settle, where he could lie more comfortably than on
the floor.
“I am all right here, or should be if I could have some more broth,” he
said, with a wistful look at the empty cup in Nell’s hand.
But she shook her head with a decided air. “To over-feed starved things
is to kill them outright, so if you want to get better you must just
trust yourself to me.”
“Sorry to give you so much trouble,” he murmured weakly.
“Oh, tending sick things isn’t trouble. I just love nursing, only I
haven’t had any one to nurse since father died, except a dog or a horse
now and then. This is such a lone house, you see, and there are no
people here to want helping. I should be just perfectly happy to have
you here to take care of till you are well, only granfer will hate it
so, that he won’t be even common pleasant to you, I’m afraid.”
“Never mind; I must risk the unpleasantness, as I can’t get any further.
It is beginning to rain, too, so it is a mercy I reached shelter when I
did,” Dick said drowsily, for a pleasant feeling of languor was stealing
over him.
“Rain? So it does. I must get you on the settle somehow, and then go out
and bring in Pip—that is our dog, you know. He’s a big, savage creature
at ordinary times, but he got fighting last night, and is so dreadfully
mauled that there ain’t much life left in him. Now, put your arms round
my neck, and I will pull you up.”
Wrapping her thin muscular arms about the stranger, Nell succeeded in
getting him on to his feet, and, supporting him as best she could, got
him across the floor, dumping him unceremoniously on to a long low
settle, which stood beside the great open fireplace. Then she went out
for the dog, for by this time the rain was coming down heavily.
The creature must have been a considerable weight, but she staggered
into the house with it, laid it tenderly down by the side of the fire
opposite to Dick, and ministered to its wants with as much affection as
if it had been a child.
The man on the settle watched her in silence, marvelling at the womanly
tenderness, which was in such sharp contrast to her appearance; then
presently, growing more drowsy, he fell asleep.
Once or twice he was conscious of being roused, and made to swallow
something, but the disturbance seemed only like a part of his dreams,
and it was hours before he was fully awake again.
Sounds of rather heated argument assailed his ears now. A man’s voice,
raised in fretful complaint, was saying—
“I’ve told you often enough that I wouldn’t have a lot o’ strange folk
clutterin’ round, pokin’ their noses into what doesn’t belong to ’em,
and when I says a thing I mostly means it, as you ought fer to know.”
“Oh, I know it well enough, and I wouldn’t have kept him here if I could
have sent him on. But, granfer, he dropped like dead at my feet, and at
first I thought he was gone.”
“Not much loss if he had died that I can see. I expect he will be no end
of expense to us,” grumbled the man’s voice; and at this Dick considered
it high time to make them aware that he was awake and listening.
“I can pay you for all I need, thank you. Although I’m afraid no money
can really recompense your granddaughter for her great kindness to me.”
The room was in heavy shadow, and the wood fire gave only a dull red
glow, so that Dick Bronson could not see clearly the face of the old
man, who turned round with a note of snarling query in his thin voice.
“What are you, anyway? A sheriff’s officer?”
“Nothing half so important. Only just a hard-working man, taking a
holiday in the forest; but my horse got stranded in a soft spot, and I
had to shoot the poor beast. Then I lost my bearings, and had come
almost to the end of my endurance, when I reached this house.”
There was such a ring of sincerity in the simple statement, that Doss
Umpey’s suspicions about the good faith of the unknown were allayed to a
certain extent, and he asked, in a grudging tone—
“Well, what do you want, anyhow?”
“I don’t quite know what you mean,” said Dick, in a bewildered manner.
“How long do you want to stop, and what do you want us to do for you?”
asked the old man, impatiently.
“I want to lie here only until I am strong enough to get on to the
nearest hotel. I will pay you for the accommodation, and for the food I
eat. I am really very hungry now; may I have something more to eat?”
Dick asked, turning his head to look at Nell, who stood by the side of
the settle, her face a study of vexation and worry.
“Can you pay for it, I want to know?” Doss Umpey began, but Nell
silenced him in an imperious fashion.
“It won’t make any difference, anyhow, granfer, for we ain’t going to
let him starve, and if you ain’t willing for him to have supper, you
won’t get any yourself.”
“Of course I’m willing he should eat. Only a poor man like me, with
others depending on him, has got to be careful,” grumbled the old man,
climbing down with so much haste that Dick would have laughed if he had
not been so angry.
He was about to fumble for his pocket-book in order to hurl some money
at his inhospitable host; but Nell, divining his intention, stopped him
with an authoritative gesture, then spoke to the old man with quiet
decision in her manner.
“If you are so anxious to get rid of the gentleman, granfer, you had
best give Blossom a good supper to-night; then by to-morrow morning the
horse could take him to Button End. They’d be able to house him
comfortable at Joe Lipton’s.”
“That’s a good idea, Nell. What a pity you didn’t think of it sooner!
Then I’d have saddled the beast and taken him over to-night. We should
have been able to be quit of him the sooner.”
“Oh, he wouldn’t have been fit to go to-night,” she answered.
“Well, he shall go bright and early to-morrow morning, anyhow,” said the
old man; then departed, slamming the door behind him.
When he had gone, Nell stirred the dull fire into a cheerful blaze, then
brought a bowl of some savoury stew to the settle where Dick was lying.
“You’d best sit up and take your supper now, while you can have it in
peace. Granfer is a bit trying sometimes, and he just hates strangers
like poison,” Nell said, as she arranged the bowl and the iron spoon so
that her guest, by turning on his elbow, could sup comfortably without
rising.
“I should think he just is trying. Why, he is about the most
disagreeable old man that it has ever been my ill fortune to meet. Why
do you stay and put up with it? If I were in your place I should run
away,” Dick said.
“Where should I run to? And who would take me in? A girl isn’t able to
shift for herself and defy the world like a man. Besides, I don’t know
how to do things properly. I can saw wood, do rough cooking, and such
work, but nothing nicer, so no one would want me,” Nell responded
wistfully.
“The stew is good, anyhow, if it is only rough cooking, and I suppose
you could learn to do other things if you had the chance,” Dick went on,
as he ate his supper with slow enjoyment, covertly studying Nell the
while as she sat in the light of the fire.
“I can learn anything if only I get the chance. I’ve got an old
dictionary upstairs, and I’ve taught myself to spell every word there is
in it. I know I talk rough, but that is only because I haven’t had a
chance of being with educated people and hearing how they sound their
words.”
“A whole dictionary? Why, you must be a perfect prodigy of learning!”
exclaimed Dick, smothering a laugh, as he looked at the thin girl in her
shabby attire.
“That means something out of the ordinary course of nature,” she said
quickly, evidently quoting from her much-studied dictionary. “No, I
don’t think I’m out of the ordinary, only, you see, I do have such a lot
of time to myself when granfer is working down beyond, that I just have
to do something.”
“I see. Have you got any more books?” asked Dick, who was finding Nell
decidedly interesting to talk to.
“Only a few. There is a Bible, an old geography with a great many leaves
gone, Longfellow’s poetical works, and Bacon’s essays. I wanted some of
father’s books, only granfer said they must be sold to pay for my board,
so he let the schoolmaster have the lot for ten dollars.”
“What a shame!” There was a thrill of boyish indignation in Dick’s voice
that brought a flush of pleasure to Nell’s thin cheek. Then he asked,
“Are your father and mother dead?”
Nell nodded, rose abruptly from her seat, and going over to the opposite
side of the fire, stooped down to do something to Pip. When she came
back there was only a strained something in her tone to show that he had
touched on a sore subject.
“Mother died ever so long ago, when I was only three years old. But I
was eleven when father died, and I came up here to live with granfer.”
The door opened at this minute, and the old man came in, the water
dripping from his garments, and his mood even more unpleasant than
before.
But Dick Bronson, soothed by his supper and weak from his long fasting,
fell asleep very soon, and so escaped the constant complaints of his
unwilling host, who grumbled as long as he was awake, then, betaking
himself to a hammock, snored loudly until the morning. Nell did not
close her eyes, however, but, sitting on the floor of her loft, kept
vigil from reasons best known to herself.