"Catching frogs," said Aggie laconically, and flourished the brand.
"Where?"
"Pulling them off the trees. Where do you think she gets them?" she
demanded.
A large mosquito broke through her guard at that moment and she flung
the torch angrily at the fire.
"I'm eaten alive!" she snapped. "I wish to Heaven I had smallpox or
something they could all take and go away and die."
The frogs' legs were heavenly, although in a restaurant I loathe the
things. I left Aggie wondering if her hay fever wasn't contagious
through the blood and hoping the mosquitoes would get it and sneeze
themselves to death, and went to find Tish.
She was standing in the margin of the lake up to her knees in water,
with a blazing torch in one hand and one of our tent poles in the other.
Tied to the end the pole was a grapevine line, and a fishing-hook made
of a hairpin was attached to it.
Her method, which it seems she'd heard from Charlie Sands and which was
not in the "Young Woodsman," was simple and effectual.
"Don't move," she said tensely when she heard me on the bank. "There's
one here as big as a chicken!"
She struck the flare forward, and I could see the frog looking at it and
not blinking. He sat in a sort of heavenly ecstasy, like a dog about to
bay at the moon, while the hook dangled just at his throat.
"I'm half-ashamed to do it, Lizzie, it's so easy," she said calmly,
still tickling the thing's throat with the hook. "Grab him as I throw
him at you. They slip off sometimes."
The next instant she jerked the hook up and caught the creature by the
lower jaw. It was the neatest thing I have ever seen. Tish came wading
over to where I stood and examined the frog.
"If we only had some Tartare sauce!" she said regretfully. "I wish you'd
look at my ankle, Lizzie. There's something stuck to it."
The something was a leech. It refused to come off, and so she carried
both frog and leech back to the camp. Aggie said on no account to pull a
leech off, it left its teeth in and the teeth went on burrowing, or laid
eggs or something. One must leave it on until it was full and round and
couldn't hold any more, and then it dropped off.
So all night Tish kept getting up and going to the fire to see if it was
swelling. But toward morning she fell asleep and it dropped off, and we
had a terrible feeling that it was somewhere in our blankets.
But the leech caused less excitement that evening than my story of Percy
and the little girl in the white coat. Aggie was entranced, and Tish had
made Percy a suit of rabbit skin with a cap to match and outlined a set
of exercises to increase his chest measure before I was half through
with my story.
But Percy did not appear, although we had an idea that he was not far
off in the woods. We could hear a crackling in the undergrowth, but when
we called there was no reply. Tish was eating a frog's leg when the idea
came to her.
"He'll never come out under ordinary circumstances in that--er--costume,"
she said. "Suppose we call for help. He'll probably come bounding.
Help!" she yelled, between bites, as one may say.
"Help! Fire! Police!"
"Help!" cried Aggie. "Percy, help!" It sounded like "Mercy, help!"
It worked like a charm. The faint cracking became louder, nearer, turned
from a suspicion to a certainty and from a certainty to a fact. The
bushes parted and Percy stood before us. All he saw was three elderly
women eating frogs' legs round a fire under a cloud of mosquitoes. He
stopped, dumbfounded, and in that instant we saw that he didn't need the
physical exercises, but that, of course, he did need the rabbit-skin
suit.
"Great Scott!" he panted. "I thought I heard you calling for help."
"So we did," said Tish, "but we didn't need it. Won't you sit down?"
He looked dazed and backed toward the bushes.
"I--I think," he said, "if there's nothing wrong I'd better not--"
"Fiddlesticks!" Tish snapped. "Are you ashamed of the body the Lord
gave you? Don't you suppose we've all got skins? And didn't I thrash my
nephew, Charlie Sands, when he was almost as big as you and had less on,
for bathing in the river? Sit down, man, and don't be a fool."
He edged toward the fire, looking rather silly, and Aggie passed him a
frog's leg on a piece of bark.
"Try this, Percy," she said, smiling.
At the name he looked ready to run. "I guess you've seen the notices,"
he said, "so you'll understand I cannot accept any food or assistance.
I'm very grateful to you, anyhow."
"You may take what food you find, surely," said Aggie. "If you find a
roasted frog's leg on the ground--so--there's nothing to prevent you
eating it, is there?"
"Nothing at all," said Percy, and picked it up. "Unless, of course--"
"It's not a trap, young man," said Tish. "Eat it and enjoy it. There are
lots more where it came from."
He relaxed at that, and on Tish's bringing out a blanket from the tent
to throw over his shoulders he became almost easy. He was much surprised
to learn that we knew his story, and when I repeated the "love him"
message, he seemed to grow a foot taller and his eyes glowed.
"I'm holding out all right," he said. "I'm fit physically. But the thing
that gets my goat is that I'm to come out clothed. Dorothea's father
says that primitive man, with nothing but his hands and perhaps a stone
club, fed himself, made himself a shelter, and clothed himself in skins.
Skins! I'm so big that two or three bears would hardly be enough. I did
find a hole that I thought a bear or two might fall into, and got almost
stung to death robbing a bee tree to bait the thing with honey. But
there aren't any bears, and if there were how'd I kill 'em? Wait until
they starve to death?"
"Rabbits!" said Tish.
He looked down at himself and he seemed very large in the firelight.
"Dear lady," he said, "there aren't enough rabbits in the county to
cover me, and how'd I put 'em together? I was a fool to undertake the
thing, that's all."
"But aren't you in love with her?" asked Aggie.
"Well, I guess I am. It isn't that, you know. I'm a good bit worse than
crazy about her. A man might be crazy about a mint julep or a power
boat, but--he'd hardly go into the woods in his skin and live on fish
until he's scaly for either of them. If I don't get her, I don't want to
live. That's all."
He looked so gloomy and savage that we saw he meant it, and Aggie was
perceptibly thrilled. Trish, however, was thinking hard, her eyes on the
leech. "Was there anything in the agreement to prevent your accepting
any suggestions?"
He pondered. "No, I was to be given no food, drink, shelter, or any
weapon. The old man forgot fire--that's how I came to beg some."
"Fire and brains," reflected Tish. "We've given you the first and we've
plenty of the second to offer. Now, young man, this is my plan. We'll
give you nothing but suggestions. If now and then you find a cooked meal
under that tree, that's accident, not design, and you'd better eat it.
Can you sew?"
"I'm like the Irishman and the fiddle--I never tried, but I guess I
can." He was much more cheerful.
"Do you have to be alone?"
"I believe he took that for granted, in this costume."
"Will it take you long to move over here?"
"I think I can move without a van," he said, grinning. "My sole worldly
possessions are a stone hatchet and a hairpin fishhook."
"Get them and come over," commanded Tish. "When you leave this forest at
the end of the time you are going to be fed and clothed and carry a
tent; you will have with you smoked meat and fish; you will carry under
your arm an Indian clock or sundial; you will have a lamp--if we can
find a clamshell or a broken bottle--and you will have a fire-making
outfit with your monogram on it."
"But, my dear friend," he said, "I am not supposed to have any
assistance and--"
"Assistance!" Tish snapped. "Who said assistance? I'm providing the
brains, but you'll do it all yourself."
He moved over an hour or so later and Tish and I went into the tent to
bed. Somewhat later, when she limped to the fire to see how the leech
was filling up, he and Aggie were sitting together talking, he of
Dorothea and Aggie of Mr. Wiggins. Tish said they were both talking at
the same time, neither one listening to the other, and that it sounded
like this:--"She's so sweet and trusting and honest--well, I'd believe
what she said if she--"
"--fell off a roof on a rainy day and was picked up by a man with a
horse and buggy quite unconscious."
V
The next three weeks were busy times for Percy. He wore Tish's blanket
for two days, and then, finding it in the way, he discarded it
altogether. Seen in daylight it was easy to understand why little
Dorothea was in love with him. He was a handsome young giant, although
much bitten by mosquitoes and scratched with briers.
The arrangement was a good one all round. He knew of things in the wood
we'd never heard of--wild onions and artichokes, and he had found a
clump of wild cherry trees. He made snares of the fibers of tree bark,
and he brought in turtles and made plates out of the shells. And all the
time he was working on his outfit, curing rabbit skins and sewing them
together with fibers under my direction.
When he'd made one sleeve of his coat we had a sort of celebration.
He'd found an empty bottle somewhere in the woods, and he had made a
wild-cherry decoction that he declared was cherry brandy, keeping it in
the sun to ferment. Well, he insisted on opening the brandy that day and
passing it round. We had cups made of leaves and we drank to his sleeve,
although the stuff was villainous. He had put the sleeve on, and it
looked rather inadequate. "Here's fun," he said joyously. "If my English
tailor could see this sleeve he'd die of envy. A sleeve's not all of a
coat, but what's a coat without a sleeve? Look at it--grace, ease of
line, and beauty of material."
Aggie lifted her leaf.
"To Dorothea!" she said. "And may the sleeve soon be about her."
Tish thought this toast was not delicate, but Percy was enchanted with
it.
It was on the evening of the fourth day of Percy's joining our camp that
the Willoughby person appeared. It happened at a most inauspicious time.
We had eaten supper and were gathered round the camp-fire and Tish had
put wet leaves on the blaze to make a smudge that would drive the
mosquitoes away. We were sitting there, Tish and I coughing and Aggie
sneezing in the smoke, when Percy came running through the woods and
stopped at the foot of a tree near by.
"Bring a club, somebody," he yelled. "I've treed the back of my coat."
Tish ran with one of the tent poles. A tepee is inconvenient for that
reason. Every time any one wants a fishing-pole or a weapon, the tent
loses part of its bony structure and sags like the face of a stout woman
who has reduced. And it turned out that Percy had treed a coon. He
climbed up after it, taking Tish's pole with him to dislodge it, and it
was at that moment that a man rode into the clearing and practically
fell off his horse. He was dirty and scratched with brambles, and his
once immaculate riding-clothes were torn. He was about to take off his
hat when he got a good look at us and changed his mind.
"Have you got anything to eat?" he asked. "I've been lost since noon
yesterday and I'm about all in."
The leaves caught fire suddenly and sent a glow into Percy's tree. I
shall never forget Aggie's agonized look or the way Tish flung on more
wet leaves in a hurry.
"I'm sorry," she said, "but supper's over."
"But surely a starving man--"
"You won't starve inside of a week," Tish snapped. "You've got enough
flesh on you for a month."
He stared at her incredulously.
"But, my good woman," he said, "I can pay for my food. Even you
itinerant folk need money now and then, don't you? Come, now, cook me a
fish; I'll pay for it. My name is Willoughby--J.K. Willoughby. Perhaps
you've heard of me."
Tish cast a swift glance into the tree. It was in shadow again and she
drew a long breath. She said afterward that the whole plan came to her
in the instant of that breath.
"We can give you something," she said indifferently. "We have a stewed
rabbit, if you care for it."
There was a wild scramble in the tree at that moment, and we thought all
was over. We learned later that Percy had made a move to climb higher,
out of the firelight, and the coon had been so startled that he almost
fell out. But instead of looking up to investigate, the stranger backed
toward the fire.
"Only a wildcat," said Tish. "They'll not come near the fire."
"Near!" exclaimed Mr. Willoughby. "If they came any nearer, they'd have
to get into it!"
"I think," said Tish, "that if you are afraid of them--although you are
safe enough if you don't get under the trees; they jump down, you
know--that you would better stay by the fire to-night. In the morning
we'll start you toward a road."
All night with Percy in the tree! I gave her a savage glance, but she
ignored me.
The Willoughby looked up nervously, and of course there were trees all
about.
"I guess I'll stay," he agreed. "What about that rabbit?"
I did not know Tish's plan at that time, and while Aggie was feeding the
Willoughby person and he was grumbling over his food, I took Tish aside.
"Are you crazy?" I demanded. "Just through your idiocy Percy will have
to stay in that tree all night--and he'll go to sleep, likely, and fall
out."
Tish eyed me coldly.
"You are a good soul, Lizzie," she observed, "but don't overwork your
mind. Go back and do something easy--let the Willoughby cross your palm
with silver, and tell his fortune. If he asks any questions I'm queen of
the gypsies, and give him to understand that we're in temporary hiding
from the law. The worse he thinks of us the better. Remember, we haven't
seen Percy."
"I'm not going to lie," I said sternly.
"Pooh!" Tish sneered. "That wretch came into the woods to gloat over his
rival's misery. The truth's too good for him."
I did my best, and I still have the silver dollar he gave me. I told him
I saw a small girl, who loved him but didn't realize it yet, and there
was another man.
"Good gracious," I said, "there must be something wrong with your palm.
I see the other man, but he seems to be in trouble. His clothing has
been stolen, for he has none, and he is hungry, very hungry."
"Ha!" said Mr. Willoughby, looking startled. "You old gypsies beat the
devil! Hungry, eh? Is that all?"
The light flared up again and I could see clearly the pale spot in the
tree, which was Percy. But Mr. Willoughby's eyes were on his palm.
"He has about decided to give up something--I cannot see just what," I
said loudly. "He seems to be in the air, in a tree, perhaps. If he
wishes to be safe he should go higher."
Percy took the hint and moved up, and I said that was all there was in
the palm. Soon after that Mr. Willoughby stretched out on the ground by
the fire, and before long he was asleep.
During the night I heard Tish moving stealthily about in the tepee and
she stepped on my ankle as she went out. I fell asleep again as soon as
it stopped aching. Just at dawn Tish came back and touched me on the
shoulder.
"Where's the blackberry cordial?" she whispered I sat up instantly.
"Has Percy fallen out of the tree?"
"No. Don't ask any questions, Lizzie. I want it for myself. That dratted
horse fell on me."
She refused to say any more and lay down groaning. But I was too worried
to sleep again. In the morning Percy was gone from the tree. Mr.
Willoughby had more rabbit and prepared to leave the forest. He offered
Tish a dollar for the two meals and a bed, and Tish, who was moving
about stiffly, said that she and her people took no money for their
hospitality. Telling fortunes was one thing, bread and salt was another.
She looked quite haughty, and the Willoughby person apologized and went
into the woods to get his horse.
The horse was gone!
It was rather disagreeable for a time. He plainly thought we'd taken it,
although Tish showed him that the end of the strap had been chewed
partly through and then jerked free.
"If the creature smelled a wildcat," she said, "nothing would hold it.
None of my people ever bring a horse into this part of the country."
"Humph!" said Mr. Willoughby. "Well, I'll bet they take a few out!"
He departed on foot shortly after, very disgusted and suspicious. We
showed him the trail, and the last we saw of him he was striding along,
looking up now and then for wildcats.
When he was well on his way, Percy emerged from the bushes. I had
thought that he had helped Tish to take the Willoughby horse, but it
seems he had not, and he was much amazed when Tish came through the wood
leading the creature by the broken strap.
"I'll turn it loose," she said to Percy, "and you can capture it. It
will make a good effect for you to emerge from the forest on horseback,
and anyhow, what with the rabbit skin, the tent, and the sundial and the
other things, you have a lot to carry. You can say you found it straying
in the woods and captured it."
Percy looked at her with admiration not unmixed with reverence. "Miss
Letitia," he said solemnly, "if it were not for Dorothea, I should ask
you to marry me. I'd like to have you in my family."
* * * * *