WHERE IS BOBBY?
"Where is Bobby, Helen?" asked Douglas, coming into the tent where Helen
was having an enforced invalidism. She had promised Dr. Wright to be
quiet until he returned to camp, which he was planning to do in a week.
"I want to make you glad to see me and if my coming means you are no
longer in durance vile I know I shall be welcome," he had said when he
told her good-by after a little more pulse taking.
"We shall always be glad to have you," she had replied impersonally. He
did think she might have used a singular pronoun but he was grateful to
her for any small scrap of politeness. As for Helen, it was difficult
for her to get over a certain sharpness of manner she had up to this
time carefully kept for the young physician. When she had fooled herself
into thinking she hated him there had been times when she had forgotten
to be rude in spite of her intentions and now, when she meant to be mild
and gentle, sometimes the old habit of studied disagreeableness got the
better of her. That long week of enforced idleness had chastened her
spirit wonderfully. She was so gentle that Douglas sometimes thought
maybe she was ill. The rattler seemed to have extracted the poison from
her system, rather than injected it.
"Only one more day!" she was thinking when Douglas came in. Dr. Wright
was expected on the morrow and then she could be up and doing once more.
There were absolutely no ill effects from the wound and that tiny excuse
for a bandage had wholly disappeared. It seemed foolish to be nursing up
herself like this, but then she had promised and Helen Carter never
broke her word.
"Bobby, you say? Why, he must have gone with Josh."
"No, Josh was to go a long way for some chickens and I thought Bobby
would get too tired."
"Maybe Lewis took him to the station with him."
"Of course! I hear the goat chugging up the mountain now. I'll go see."
But no Bobby!
The mountain goat was laden with packages and two previous boarders who
could not wait for the week-end to return to camp. No one had seen Bobby
for hours and hours it developed on investigation.
"He done pestered the life out'n me all mornin'," declared Oscar, "an'
I done tol' him go fin' Susan and worry her some."
"Yes, an' I sint him back to you."
"Well, he ain't never come."
"He came to me for a story," confessed Nan, "but I was so interested in
my book I couldn't stop. I'm so sorry."
"He wanted to go with Lil and me but we didn't want him tagging on," and
Lucy looked ready to weep.
"He came to me and wanted me to build a log cabin out of sticks but I
had my accounts to go over," groaned Douglas. "I sent him to Helen but
she hasn't seen him."
"Well, he is around somewhere," comforted Lewis.
"Sure!" declared Bill. "All hands turn out and hunt."
The sisters all felt guilty consciences for not having looked after
their little brother, all but Helen, who was the only one who had not
seen him.
"I was the only one who had time for him and I am the only one he didn't
come to," she cried. "If I only hadn't promised Dr. Wright to stay still
until he got here! I know I could find Bobby."
"But, honey, there are lots of hunters and you must do what the doctor
told you," begged Douglas.
"Oh, I'll mind him all right--that is unless Bobby stays lost too long
and then I'll have to get up and break my word if I lose my immortal
soul in the act."
Staying still while the hue and cry for her dear little brother was
going on was about the hardest job Helen Carter ever undertook. She
imagined all sorts of terrible things. Maybe gypsies had stolen him.
Maybe a rattlesnake had bitten him and he was even now dying from it.
Maybe he had fallen down the mountain side and had dashed his brains out
on some boulder. Worse than anything he might be lost forever, wandering
over the mountains trying to find his way home, crying and calling,
scared almost to death, tired and hungry, dying finally of starvation
and exposure.
Taking Bill's advice, all hands turned out to hunt for the lost boy. In
five minutes Helen was the only person left in camp, even Miss Elizabeth
Somerville and the newly arrived boarders joining in the search. There
were many paths leading from camp and up and down these the crowd
scattered.
Dear little Bobby! No one thought him a nuisance now. Nan and Gwen made
their way to Aunt Mandy's cabin, thinking perhaps he had gone there in
search of Josh. Aunt Mandy came out with kindly words of discouragement
and gruesome tales of a child her mother told her of who wandered off
and never was found.
"That there Bobby looks like a angel anyhow. Children like him is hard
to raise. We uns is been a tellin' of Gwen and Josh that Bobby is too
purty for a boy. He looks to we uns more like a gal angel." Gwen tried
to stop her but the old woman went on until Nan was almost in tears. If
she had not been so distressed she would have found this amusing, but
with Bobby gone for hours a sense of humor did not help much.
"Oh, Gwen! Where can he be?"
"Let's keep on down this path for a while. He and Josh often go this
way."
"If Josh would only come! I know he could find him."
"He will be found soon, I am sure. His little legs cannot carry him very
far and I am sure he would not get out of the trails. He may be back at
camp now. You turn back and let me follow this trail for a mile or so.
You are tired, I know."
"No, indeed, I'm not; if I were it would serve me right. If only I had
stopped and told him a story! I am so selfish when I get steeped in a
book. What will Mother say if Bobby is lost?"
"Oh, but I am sure we will find him."
The girls wandered on, stopping every now and then to call to the lost
child. Sometimes they would be answered by an echo and then would stop
and listen and call again.
Douglas got in the car with Lewis, who whisked her down the mountain
side to the station.
"Maybe he has carried out his threat of running away. He is always
saying he is going back to Richmond when he gets tired of the camp,
which he does occasionally when he has nothing to occupy him. If I had
only stopped adding up expenses and built the log cabin for him! I have
neglected him, I am sure--and what will Father and Mother say? I wish I
had let him go with Josh. He always takes such good care of him."
"We are going to find him, Douglas, I feel sure. Why, the little shaver
could not walk very far."
He was not at the station and no one had seen him. Old Abner Dean came
out of his store and actually seemed to feel some concern for the boy.
He was a hard old man but not hard enough to resist the charm of Bobby's
eyes.
"He could not have come to the station without some one seeing him, and
now I am going to take you home. He may be found by this time and if he
is not I'll start out again. There is no use in your going," said Lewis,
feeling very sorry for the distracted sister and very uneasy himself in
spite of his repeated assurances to Douglas that the little shaver was
all right wherever he might be.
"First let's go down this road a little way. He might have turned off
before he got to the station. He knows that this is the road Josephus
and Josh took this morning."
"All right! Anywhere that there is a chance of finding him!"
Lucy and Lil with Frank and his friend Skeeter, went over the mountain.
Lucy and Lil were feeling very much cut up that they had refused to let
poor little Bobby tag along earlier in the day.
"I should have taken him with me," wailed Lucy. "Maybe I can never take
care of him again. S'pose wild cats get him."
"But they wouldn't attack in daylight," declared Frank.
"But we might not find him before dark and wolves and snakes and wild
cats and all kinds of things might get him. I promised Mother I'd be
good to him, too." Lucy was sniffing dismally and Lil joined her friend
in her demonstration of woe.
They came to the reservoir where Bobby loved to play and was not allowed
to come alone. It was not deep but then a little child does not need
much water to drown in.
"It is so clear that if he is in the bottom we can see him, that's one
comfort," suggested Skeeter, but the rest of them could not extract much
joy from the fact.
"I am scared to look in!" exclaimed Lucy, hiding her eyes.
"Nothing in there but a bullfrog," reassured Frank, so they left the
reservoir and climbed on up the mountain.
Susan and Oscar took the path around the mountain. The two devoted
servants were so deeply concerned about their darling Bobby, very
precious now that he was lost, that they felt there was no way to
express their concern but by quarreling with each other.
"Whin I sint him to you, why'n you keep keer er him?" grumbled Oscar.
"Wherefore you didn't keep keer er him yo' se'f?"
"I ain't no nuss!"
"Me neither! I done hi'ed out fur a housemaid. I is demeanin' of my
rightful oaths to be adoin' what I is. If the haid of our sassiety
should git wind of all the occupations I is a occupying I ain't got a
doubt she would read me out in meetin'."
"Well, nobody ain't a goin' to blow 'bout what wuck you does but
yo'se'f. I can't see but what you keeps to yo' vows well enough. If
lookin' after chillums aint 'ooman's wuck I lak to know what is."
Every now and then they stopped their wrangling to shout for the lost
boy.
"Bo--oob--by! You, Bo--oob--by! I got some ca--an--dy fur yer," called
Susan.
"'Andyfuryer!" came back from the next mountain.
"Thar he is!" declared Oscar.
"Thar he is much! That there is what Miss Nan calls a ego. It's some
kind er a beast I reckon what mocks folks. Sounds lak hants ter me. I
done dream of trouble last night anyhow. I dream I was a gittin'
married--"
"That would sho' be trouble to the groom," chuckled Oscar.
"My dream book says that dreamin' of marriage is sho sign er death. I
reckon our little Bobby is dead by this time. Out here cold and starved
in the mountings."
"Well, he done et a good breakfast this mornin' and ain't starved yit
as 'tain't time ter dish up dinner yit. An' if he is cold I'd lak ter
know whar he done foun' a cool spot. I sho is a sweatin' myse'f."
"Go 'long, you ole nigger! You ain't got no feelin'."
"I's got as much feelin' as you is but I's got enough ter worry 'bout
without makin' up troubles. I want ter find that there Bobby an' I feel
turrible bad 'bout his a gittin' lost but I ain't agoin' ter trouble my
haid about his bein' cold and hongry whin the sun is a shinin' down on
my back as hot as a mustard plarster an' I done see the boy put away two
full batches of waffles with enough scrambled eggs to feed a whole
fambly. His appletite done pick up wonderful sense we been a campin'
out."
Miss Elizabeth Somerville had to help in the search, too, although Bill
Tinsley tried to persuade her that he and Tillie Wingo could do her part
and she had better go back to the pavilion, but go she would down the
rocky path.
"'Foolishness is bound in the heart of a child; but the rod of
correction shall drive it far from him,'" she declaimed grimly. "If I
had my way I should give that child a good whipping when he is found. He
knows perfectly well he should not have gone off without asking."
The search kept up for more than an hour and still no sign of little
Bobby. Even the most cheerfully sanguine of the campers began to feel
dubious. Helen lay on her cot in an agony of suspense. The search party
had none of them returned. She began to fear that the worst might have
happened to her beloved little brother. If she could only get up and
help! She regretted the promise she had made Dr. Wright. How could she
stay still until the next day? She knew she could find Bobby if any one
could. Did he not love her best of all the sisters? How strange that he
had not come to her when Douglas sent him! She would have told him
stories and amused him.
"Maybe he did come while I was taking that little nap," she thought. "It
was only for a moment that I dozed off and usually he is quick enough
to awaken any one who is sleeping." The truth of the matter was that
Bobby was loath to have anybody sleep. He was famous as a waker.
"There is a car! I hear it coming up the mountain. I do hope it is
Douglas and she has got him."
She waited what seemed hours but was in reality but a minute.
"Douglas!" she called. "Lewis! Somebody! Have you found him?" Her voice
rang out very loud in the empty camp.
"May I come in?" Dr. Wright's voice just outside her tent.
"Oh, Dr. Wright! Bobby is lost! May I get up and help hunt? I'm so glad
you have come!"
"So am I. I was called to Charlottesville in consultation and came on up
here for a visit. Tell me about Bobby."
"He's been lost for hours and hours. Everybody is out hunting and I
promised I'd stay here until you came, but oh, Dr. Wright, it has been
hard to keep my word."
"You poor little girl! But you mustn't worry, Bobby can take care of
himself anywhere he happens to be."
"You bet I can!" came from under Helen's cot and then a tousled sleepy
little figure followed the voice.
"Oh, Bobby, Bobby!" cried Helen, hugging the little wretch close in her
arms. "Didn't you know we were nearly scared to death about you?"
"Nope! How's I to know? I drap off to sleep, I reckon. I was so tired er
gettin' driv from one to the tother all mornin' that I got so sleepy I
couldn't stay awake. When I got driv to you by Douglas and found you
snoozin' I jes' crawled in under your bed and must a snoozed some
myself."
"To think of his being right here all the time! Please go tell the rest
he is found. Tell them I found him."
"Yes, tell 'em Helen is wuth mor'n all of them put together. She kin do
more findin' of things lyin' up in the bed than all the crowd can a
huntin' all over the mountain."
Bobby soon became the center of attraction. Everybody had to give him a
hug and everybody was sorry they had "driv" him off. Douglas promised
him an Indian outfit; Nan promised to tell him all the stories she knew;
Lucy invited him to tag along with her whenever he wanted to; Lewis
Somerville gave him a new knife if he promised never to use it unless
Josh was with him to pick up the pieces he cut off himself; Susan
immediately put on some molasses to cook for an always welcome candy
pulling; Oscar gave him an especial invitation to a chicken picking he
was to hold that afternoon.
Helen was allowed to get up by the cautious young doctor since the snake
bite was entirely gone. Her manner to him was so gentle he could not
help feeling that he himself, as well as a physician who was releasing
her, was welcome to the camp.
* * * * *
During this visit Dr. Wright found much food for thought--serious and
otherwise. As he watched the Carter girls, happily active in their daily
tasks, bravely puzzling over their problems in economy, unselfishly
entertaining their week-end guests, he contrasted their life on the side
of the mountain in Albemarle with the sheltered existence they had
known--and marveled and rejoiced.
The summer was doing wonderful things for all the members of the camping
party. Miss Somerville had seen a sunrise and had waxed enthusiastic
over it. Susan had learned to sleep with her windows open and to realize
that some of her dreams were indicative of what had happened rather than
what was going to happen. Namely! a fearful dream she had had of fresh
meat did not mean sure death, as the dream book said, but that she had
eaten too much beefsteak the night before. Oscar had learned that there
was a lot of good in po' whites when once they began to wash. Josh, in
turn, had learned the value of cold water on character as well as hide.
Lewis Somerville and his chum, Bill, had learned the power of honest
toil to assuage the mental anguish they had had to contend with because
of their interrupted careers. They were planning for the future instead
of looking back and regretting the past. Bobby was learning more than
any of the party. He had learned how to find a bee tree and where the
sparrow hawk nests; he had learned how to skin up any tree he could get
his arms around and how to slide down without barking his shins; he had
learned how to scrooch up his toes when the path was stony and not hurt
his feet walking in briars. Josh was his tutor and had even taught him
when to say we uns and you allses. Josephus had learned where to go for
lump sugar, and whenever Helen appeared, the old mule limped after her,
putting his head on one side and singing like a canary bird; at least,
that was what Nan said he did.
So even Josephus could be numbered among those who had benefited by the
healthful, unselfish, out-of-door life on the mountain side. Lucy,
perhaps, of all the Carter girls, had changed the least under the new
influences. Her attitude toward the world in general and Helen in
particular remained about the same: she was adoring and belligerent,
imitative and rebellious, as variable as a weather vane in March.
The fact that Helen had been bitten by a snake was carefully kept from
Lucy for fear she would go do likewise. She tried very hard to stay in
bed one day with a would-be sprained ankle, but the delights of the
mountains were too alluring. She hobbled out of bed before the day was
over and by evening was fox trotting with Skeeter, who, by the way, had
answered Frank Maury's letter in person by return mail.
But if Lucy took the business end of the summer venture lightly,
Douglas, Helen and Nan shouldered its responsibilities seriously and
gloried in its success. Their enthusiasm did not wane nor did their
determination falter: their father should not be burdened by debts on
his home-coming.
How they clung to their purpose and how they met the remaining
experiences of the summer, their friends may discover, if they will, in
"The Carter Girls' Week-End Camp."
THE END.
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Transcriber's Note
In this text-version italics has been indicated with _italics_. Small
capitals has been changed to all capitals.
A few obvious printer's errors have been corrected. Otherwise the
original has been preserved, including inconsistencies in spelling,
hyphenation or accentuation.