ANXIETY
In this valley into which Sammy and the two youngest Corner House
girls had coasted without realizing their unfortunate change of
direction, the blizzard that had swept down from the north-east upon
the wilderness about Red Deer Lodge did not reveal to the castaways
its greatest velocity.
The wind was mild in the valley compared to the way it swept across
the ridge on which the Birdsalls' home had been built. Already, when
Neale O'Neil discovered the absence of the small sled Sammy and Tess
and Dot had taken, the storm was becoming threatening in the extreme.
Urged by Mr. Howbridge, Neale ran into the house to make sure that
Sammy and the little girls were really gone. Nobody indoors knew
anything about the trio. Instantly anxiety was aroused in the minds of
every one.
Hedden, John and Lawrence, as well as Luke Shepard, soon joined in the
search. Ike M'Graw of course took the lead. He knew the locality, and
he knew the nature of the storm that had now developed after
forty-eight hours of threatening.
"No use lookin' for them twins," he had told Mr. Howbridge bluntly.
"If they got away from here this mornin' with grub and a gun, they'll
likely be all right for a while. They know where to hole up, it's
likely, over this storm. 'Tain't as though they hadn't lived in the
woods a good deal, winter and summer. When this storm is over I'll
have a look for them twins, and like enough I'll find 'em all right.
They air smart young shavers--'specially little Missie.
"But these here young ones you brought with you--well, they don't know
nothin' about the woods. If they started up that road to have a slide,
no knowin' where they are now. They've got to be found and brought
home. Yes, sir!"
Ruth and the other girls had come running to the back kitchen where
the party was making ready for departure. Agnes and Cecile were in
tears; but although Ruth felt even more keenly that she had neglected
the little folks, and because of that neglect they were lost, she kept
her head.
The oldest Kenway hurried matters in the kitchen, and before Ike was
ready to start with his crew, she brought two big thermos bottles, one
with hot milk and the other with hot coffee.
"That's a good idee, Miss," said the woodsman, buttoning up his
leather coat. "But we'll probably get them youngsters so quick they
won't be much cold. Scared, mostly."
All the members of the searching party did not feel so confident as
Ike's expression pictured his feelings. And perhaps Ike said this only
to help ease the minds of those who remained at the Lodge.
Neale and Luke walked side by side as they set forth against the wind
that now blew so hard. The snow sheeted them about so quickly that
they were lost to the vision of the girls and Mr. Howbridge before
they had gone twenty yards.
The boys were right behind M'Graw. The other men trailed them.
"Don't you fellers stray off the road we're goin' to follow," advised
the old woodsman. "This is a humdinger of a storm, and it's goin' to
get worse and worse from now on."
"Those poor kids will be buried in it," Luke shouted in Neale's ear.
"We'll dig 'em out, then," returned Neale, confidently. "Don't give up
the ship before we've even started."
But there was not much talk after getting into the road up which they
knew Sammy and the little girls had started with the sled. In fact,
they could not talk. By this time the blizzard was at its height, and
it was blowing directly in their faces as they advanced.
Over boot-tops, over knees, even leg-deep where the drifts were, the
searchers pressed on. Hedden overtook the backwoodsman and shouted:
"Hadn't we better separate, Mr. M'Graw, and beat the bushes on either
side of this road?"
"No. Don't believe it's safe. And I don't think them little shavers
separated. They've holed-in together somewhere by this time, or--"
He did not finish his remark, but plowed on. He did not pass a hummock
or snow-covered stump beside the road that he did not kick into and
quite thoroughly examine. Every time Neale O'Neil saw one of these
drifts he felt suddenly ill. Suppose the little folks should be under
that heap of snow? Nor did Luke bear the uncertainty in lighter vein.
There were tears frozen on his cheeks as they pressed on.
The falling snow and sleet, driven by the wind, seemed like a solid
wall ahead of them. This buffeted the searchers with tremendous power.
It took all their individual force to stand against the storm.
When they finally reached the summit of the road, where the young
people had started the bobsled for the long slide that forenoon, they
had found no sign of Sammy and the little girls.
Lawrence, one of the men, was completely exhausted. Ike made him sit
down in the shelter of a tree and dosed him with a big draught of the
hot coffee.
"Don't want to have to lug you back in our arms, young man," snorted
the old woodsman. "You city fellers ain't got much backbone, I allow."
Meanwhile the other members of the searching party examined every
brush pile and heap of snow for a circle of twenty yards around the
point where Ike and Lawrence waited. Neale and Luke shrieked
themselves hoarse calling the names of the trio of lost children.
"Do you suppose any wild animal has attacked them, or frightened them,
Mr. M'Graw?" Hedden asked.
"Lynx and them is holed up, all right," declared the backwoodsman with
conviction. "Nothing would bother them while this storm lasts. But I
declare I don't see why we ain't found 'em," he added, shaking his
head. "Not if they come this way."
"I don't think they would have gone beyond this spot, do you?" Neale
asked. "Here's the top of the hill. They must have started for this
place with the sled."
"'Twould seem so," agreed Ike M'Graw.
"I doubt if they could have walked so far from the house," said Luke.
"'Twasn't snowin' like this when they was on the way. But if they come
up here and slid down again, why didn't we find 'em on our way up?
Beats me!"
"Perhaps we should have brought Tom Jonah with us," Neale observed.
"He might have nosed them out."
"The old dog couldn't scurcely git through this here snow," said
M'Graw. "I don't guess he can help us much till the storm's over. But
let's go back. Them young ones must have turned out o' this road
somewheres. Stands to reason the snow scared 'em and they started
back. They must have got out o' this woodroad, and then--"
He slowly shook his head. His anxiety was shared by all. Wherever the
children had gone, they were surely overtaken by the storm. If they
had found some shelter-they might be safely "holed up" till the storm
stopped. But if not, neither Ike M'Graw nor the others knew where to
look for them.
And the blizzard was now sweeping so desperately across the ridge that
the sturdiest of the party could scarcely stand against it. Had it not
been at their backs as they headed for Red Deer Lodge again, it is
doubtful if they would have got to their destination alive.
The last few hundred yards the party made by holding hands and pulling
each other through the drifts. It was a tremendous task, and even
M'Graw was blown when Red Deer Lodge was reached.
Lawrence was the worst off of them all. Neale and Luke literally
dragged him through the storm from the sheds to the rear door of the
Lodge. He would probably have died in the drifts had he been alone.
The girls and Mrs. MacCall, as well as Mr. Howbridge, were awaiting
the return of the searchers with the utmost anxiety. Not only were
they disturbed over the loss of the three children, but the
possibility of the men themselves not returning had grown big in their
minds. The rapidity with which the snow was gathering and the
fierceness of the gale threatened disaster to the searchers.
When M'Graw fell against the storm door at the rear of the house and
burst it open, everybody within hearing came running to the back
kitchen. When Ruth saw that they did not bring with them the two
little girls and Sammy, she broke down utterly.
Her despair was pitiful. She had held in bravely until now. To think
that they had come up here to Red Deer Lodge for a jolly vacation only
to have this tragedy occur!
For that it was tragedy even Ike M'Graw now admitted. There was no
knowing when the storm would cease. If the children had not been
providentially sheltered before the gale reached this high point, it
was scarcely possible that they would be found alive after the
blizzard was over.
At this hour no human being could live for long exposed to the storm
which gripped the whole countryside.
* * * * *
There was anxiety in the cave in the valley as well as at Red Deer
Lodge about this same hour. But it must be confessed that the children
who had taken refuge in the cave were mostly anxious about that rabbit
stew!
Was there going to be enough to go around? And had Rowdy made the
dumplings all right and seasoned the stew so that it would be
palatable?
[Illustration: "The housekeeping arrangements of the cave were
primitive."]
"Why, you're all sitting around here and sniffing at that stew every
time I lift the pot cover like hungry dogs," declared Rowdy. "I guess
if it doesn't turn out right, you'll eat me."
"Oh, no," said Dot. "We wouldn't like to do that, for we aren't cannon
balls."
"You aren't _what_?" cried the boy, amazed.
"Oh, dear, Dot! Why _will_ you get so mixed up in your words?" Tess
wailed. "She doesn't mean 'cannon balls,' Rowdy; she means cannibals.'
And we aren't. It is bad enough to have to eat rabbit when it looks so
much like a cat."
This very much amused Rowdy and Sammy Pinkney; but Rafe, the grouchy
brother, would not be even friendly enough to laugh at the smallest
Corner House girl.
"I don't know what's got into him," said Rowdy. "He never was this way
before."
Rafe lay on the bed of balsam branches, and when his brother tried to
stir him up he growled and said: "Let me alone!" But when the stew was
done he was ready for his share.
The housekeeping arrangements of the cave were primitive. There were a
few odd plates and dishes. But knives and forks were not plentiful,
and the tea had to be drunk out of tin cups, and there were only three
of them.
There was condensed milk for the tea; and besides the dumplings which
Rowdy had made, there were crackers and some cold cornbread left from
a previous meal.
Rowdy seemed to be a pretty good cook for a boy of his age. And he was
just as handy with dishes and in housekeeping matters as a girl.
The visitors praised his rabbit stew. They really had to do that
because they ate so much of it. Rafe grumbled that they took more than
their share.
"I'd like to know what's got into you!" Rowdy said to his brother in
great disgust. "You are just as mean as poison ivy--so there!"
"I am not!"
"Yes, you are. And what are you scratching that way for?"
"Because my chest itches. What does anybody scratch for?" growled
Rafe.
After eating, Rafe rolled up in a robe and went to sleep at one end of
the bed. The others helped Rowdy clean up; and, as he said, "just to
pay Rafe off for being so mean," they had dessert which Rafe had no
part in. Rowdy produced a can of pears and they opened and ate them
all!
"Je-ru-sa-_lem_!" ejaculated Sammy, when this was finished, "ain't it
fun living in a cave? I'd rather be here than up to that Red Deer
Lodge place. Hadn't you, Tess?"
"No-o," admitted the honest but polite little girl. "I can't say just
that. But I think Rowdy's cave is very nice, and we are having a very
nice time here."
Dot frankly yawned. She had been doing that, off and on, all through
supper.
"I'm afraid there won't be anybody to put my Alice-doll to bed
tonight," she said. "And I haven't any nightgown with me. Why, Tess!
what shall we do?"
"I guess you wouldn't want to take off your clothes here. It isn't
warm enough," said Rowdy.
"But can't we say our prayers?" murmured the startled Dot. "Of course,
Tess and I spent the night once right out under a tree--didn't we,
Tessie? Last summer, you know, when we went on that tour in our
automobile. But we said our prayers first."
"I guess we'd all better say our prayers and go to bed," said Rowdy.
"This is a pretty big storm, and maybe it won't stop snowing for ever
so long. The more we sleep, the less we'll know about it."
Therefore, a little later, the four joined the already slumbering Rafe
upon the heaped up branches; wrapping themselves as best they could in
the torn robes and pieces of carpet.
It was not a very comfortable bed or very nice bedding; but they were
all too weary to criticize the shortcomings of Rowdy's cave. At least,
it was shelter from the storm.