Dave Makes Himself Useful
SHOUTS from the lake now claimed the campers' attention. Captain
Berry's obstinate engine had suddenly decided to work and was now
making up for lost time by refusing to stop. The captain, as near shore
as he dared approach, was spinning round and round in circles. Each
time he neared the land he shouted lustily.
"He wants something," interpreted Mr. Black, rising from the table.
"Marjory--where is Marjory with her sharp ears?"
"Crying in our tent," replied Mabel, with a vindictive glance toward
Aunty Jane. "If she wasn't a _good_ child, she'd climb a tree and stay
there until some folks----"
"There, there," squelched Doctor Bennett, "we mustn't criticise our
elders. Let's see what that crazy boat is doing."
"She's stopped," said Mr. Black, "and Dave's swimming ashore--after
the boats, I guess. Let's help him."
Presently all sorts of boxes, bundles, and baskets were safely landed;
all the campers and most of the visitors helping the good work along.
Even Marjory, her face swollen and disfigured from much weeping,
assisted a little.
"Hullo!" cried Dave, catching sight of the sorrowful countenance. "W'at
you ees cry for, li'le gal?"
Tactful Jean, seeing that Marjory was unable to speak, replied for her.
"Her aunt--she hasn't any mother, you know--is going to take her home.
She doesn't want to go; but she can't help herself."
"Dat's too bad," sympathized Dave. "W'ich of dose ees hees aunt?"
Jean pointed out Aunty Jane--a middle-aged, unattractive lady, who
sat bolt upright when everybody else loafed in comfortable, camp-y
attitudes.
"Yas, Ah'm see dose old gal biffore," admitted disrespectful Dave,
eying Aunty Jane's stiff, unconscious back reflectively. "Ah'm not lak'
dose kind of lady ver' moch--she ees tole me for take som' _bat'_."
Even Marjory smiled forlornly at the idea of Dave's taking a bath. But
smiles did not last long that day. In spite of all the good things
that came in baskets and bundles, in spite of a big box of candy that
Saunders had included for Mabel and Henrietta, and inscribed "With the
Game Warden's Compliments," the sympathetic little girls were very
unhappy at the thought of losing Marjory. They had _always_ played
together; and now they were absolutely certain that they _couldn't_
have good times during the rest of their stay with no Marjory to help
enjoy them. As for Marjory, that small maiden was shedding so many
tears that Mabel feared there would soon be nothing left of her unhappy
little friend. And by afternoon even the grown-ups were thoroughly
vexed by Aunty Jane's obstinacy.
"Oh, we all know," said Mrs. Bennett to Mrs. Tucker, who sat under a
tree, letting down a skirt for Bettie, "that Aunty Jane _means_ well;
she'd work her fingers to the bone for Marjory; but a _real_ mother
wouldn't be a--a----"
"Vinegar cruet," supplied Doctor Bennett.
"She has completely spoiled the day," declared Mrs. Tucker, "for all
those children; and we _meant_ to give them a pleasant surprise."
"Poor Aunty Jane _couldn't_ be a pleasant surprise," protested
Mrs. Bennett, "but we mustn't blame her--_she_ didn't pick out her
unfortunate disposition. We'll just have to be extra cheerful ourselves
this afternoon to make up for her unpleasantness."
But no one succeeded in being "extra cheerful," when there was so much
gloom to dispel; to the children, especially, the day seemed absolutely
spoiled in spite of much unexpected and rather amusing sympathy from
Dave, who plainly considered going home with Aunty Jane an unmixed
calamity.
"I guess," said Jean, shrewdly, "that Dave _likes_ to have us here."
"And why not?" demanded Henrietta. "We give him all sorts of good
things to eat and Mr. Black pays him besides, for all the work he
doesn't do. He's just bought himself a nice new blanket and a fine big
quilt--I noticed them on the beach. Why! Something's happening. Let's
see what it is."
Dave, with a large bundle on his shoulder, was crossing the clearing,
in the direction of his wigwam. Aunty Jane, pointing at the bundle and
scolding loudly, was scurrying after him. Mrs. Bennett and Mrs. Mapes
were scurrying after _her_. Mrs. Slater, under a tree with Mrs. Tucker,
seemed greatly amused; for this bright old lady possessed a strong
sense of humor.
"What _is_ it, Granny?" demanded Henrietta, pausing at sight of the
dainty little grandmother's smiling countenance. "Is she trying again
to make Dave take a bath?"
"No, Honey," laughed Mrs. Slater. "She thinks she recognizes that
quilt--she missed one off her clothesline several nights ago."
Dave, seeing that Aunty Jane was not to be shaken off, stopped, untied
his bundle, separated the quilt from the other articles, and offered it
to the pursuing lady.
"Yas," grinned Dave, "Ah'm t'ink dose queelt she ees yours, maybe.
She's grow on som' clothesline jus' biffore de back part of dose house
of madame hon Lakeveele. Me, Ah'm need som' more queelt--som' tam' Ah'm
got company. Mus' feex noddaire bed, Ah'm t'ink."
"Well," replied Aunty Jane, tartly, as she reached for the guilt,
"you'd better think again. Give it to me this instant."
Then, catching a whiff of the aroma that was ever a part of Dave, Aunty
Jane fairly hurled the restored comforter at the grinning thief.
"For goodness' sake!" she gasped. "_Take_ it, you filthy Indian. There
isn't water enough in Lake Superior to get the smell out of anything
you've touched."
"Yas," returned Dave, blandly accepting the quilt, "Ah'm sleep hon dose
queelt hall de way from Lakeveele. Night biffore, halso. Ah'm moch
obliged for dose present, madame. Dose ver' good queelt, Ah'm t'ink."
"A great deal too good for you, you filthy beast."
Dave's ill-kept teeth still gleamed in his wide, amiable smile; but
his narrowed black eyes suddenly glittered in a cold, snaky way that
started an unpleasant chill down Aunty Jane's spine.
"That wicked Indian," she said afterwards, "thanked me and looked as if
he'd like to murder me, all in the same breath."
"Indians," mused Doctor Tucker, "are said to be revengeful."
Perhaps, with so many little girls sorrowful on Marjory's account,
the sky hadn't the heart to keep on smiling. At any rate, a full hour
earlier than the visitors had expected to leave, their launch-man was
pointing pessimistically toward gathering clouds--no one else had
noticed them.
"If you folks want to get home before it rains," said he, "you'd better
be climbing aboard--less'n you want to stay here all night."
"Mercy!" cried Aunty Jane, springing to her feet, "I wouldn't stay for
a million dollars."
Mrs. Slater was too polite to _say_ that she wouldn't either; but she,
too, rose rather hastily to look about for scattered belongings.
Dave assisted everybody with wonderful alacrity. He was here, there,
and everywhere. The girls assisted, too--perhaps that was why it took
so long to find all Marjory's widely dispersed garments. They were
still at this task after most of the mothers had climbed aboard the
launch. Marjory, by this time fairly helpless with grief, sat on a log
and wept; while Aunty Jane, on her knees under a nearby tree, attempted
to roll the accumulated garments into a neat bundle.
Somehow--nobody knew exactly how--Terrible Tim, the porcupine, made
his presence felt just at this busy moment. One instant the object in
Aunty Jane's grasp was an innocent bundle of clothing. The next, the
horrified lady was clutching an astonished and most dreadfully prickly
porcupine; for Timothy, propelled by some mysterious force, had landed
squarely in her arms.
Instantly the air was rent with shrieks. No one noticed the extra
shriek or two that Marjory added to the chorus as a dark, sinewy arm
shot forth and suddenly grasped her. No one saw lithe Dave draw the
frightened, dazed little girl into the thicket, toss her across his
shoulder, and flee, by a roundabout trail that no civilized foot could
have found, toward his own wigwam.
"Be still," commanded Dave, clapping his hand gently but effectually
over Marjory's mouth. "Don't be scare--Ah'm good frien' to you, li'le
gal. Now ron, ron fast hon your own leg."
Astonishment prevented further desire to shriek, for, near the doorway
of Dave's wigwam and washing a grimy pan with a grimier rag, stood a
dark but decidedly attractive young woman. And down in the dirt at
her feet, as Marjory had seen her many times previously, groveled the
Dandelion Cottage baby, the unforgettable Rosa Marie.
Marjory, at sight of the funny little Indian baby that Mabel had once
adopted, almost forgot her own troubles.
"Ma sistaire," explained Dave, pointing toward the woman. "Hees name
ees Mahjigeezigoqua. Can you say dose name?"
"Mar-gee-gee-ze-go-qua," repeated Marjory, correctly making the first
g soft, the second hard. "But how did you get them here? We didn't see
them leave the boat."
"Ah'm pack dem wit' dose proveesion," laughed Dave. "Ah'm poot dose two
hon shore behin' som' point, w'ile all dose peop' ees too busy for look
at Dave. Ma sistaire ees come for pick som' berry. Hey, you know dose
kid? W'y you no talk, Rosa Marie? Here ees som' frien' for you."
Then Dave spoke rapidly in some strange tongue to his sister,
concluding in his broken English, as he turned to go:
"Now Ah'm go for help dose ol' Aunt hon top dose boat. You stay here."
Nevertheless, conscientious Marjory started to follow him; but Rosa
Marie's mother, stepping quickly into the narrow pathway, gently but
unmistakably detained her.
"You talk som' leetle t'ing to Rosa Marie--she ees remembaire you, ees
eet not, Rosa? See, how he ees grow som' hon herself, dose so fat Rosa."
So Marjory, seeing no way of immediate escape with the attractive young
Indian woman firmly blocking the pathway, renewed her acquaintance with
Rosa Marie, who apparently was as stolid and as unemotional as ever.
"Hees fadaire lak' dat," explained Mahjigeezigoqua. "He t'ink hon hees
inside honly. No talk, no mak' som' smile hon her face, dose man."
If Rosa Marie _did_ any thinking, it is certain that the process went
on "inside only," for if ever there was a wooden little Indian it was
Rosa Marie. But by dint of hard work, Marjory finally extracted a
smile. Then Rosa Marie, groping under her brief skirts, produced the
very dirtiest and most disreputable doll that Marjory had ever beheld.
"Ma-_bel_," said Rosa Marie. "Ma-_bel_."
"She ees name for Mees Ma_bel_," explained the Indian baby's mother.
"Mabel ought to feel flattered," giggled Marjory. "I'll tell her about
her namesake. But mercy! I must go back----"
"Wait," said Dave's sister, lightly clasping her slender brown fingers
about Marjory's wrist. "Ah show you how to catch som' chipmunk."
And Marjory, realizing that she was a prisoner, stayed where she was.