Toward the last Percy was obliged to work far into the night, for of
course we could not assist him. He made a full suit of rabbit skins
sewed with fibers, and a cap and shoes of coonskin to match. The shoes
were cut from a bedroom-slipper pattern that Tish traced in the sand on
the beach, and the cap had an eagle feather in it. He made a birch-bark
knapsack to hold the fish he smoked and a bow and arrow that looked well
but would not shoot. When he had the outfit completed, he put it on,
with the stone hatchet stuck into a grapevine belt and the bow and arrow
over his shoulder, and he looked superb.
"The question is," he reflected, trying to view himself in the edge of
the lake: "Will Dorothea like it? She's very keen about clothes. And
gee, how she hates a beard!"
"You could shave as the Indians do," Tish said.
"How?"
"With a clamshell."
He looked dubious, but Tish assured him it was feasible. So he hunted a
clamshell, a double one, Tish requested, and brought it into camp.
"I'd better do it for you," said Tish. "It's likely to be slow, but it
is sure."
He was eyeing the clamshell and looking more and more uneasy.
"You're not going to scrape it off?" he asked anxiously. "You know,
pumice would be better for that, but somehow I don't like the idea."
"Nothing of the sort," said Tish. "The double clamshell merely forms a
pair of Indian nippers. I'm going to pull it out."
But he made quite a fuss about it, and said he didn't care whether the
Indians did it or not, he wouldn't. I think he saw how disappointed Tish
was and was afraid she would attempt it while he slept, for he threw the
Indian nippers into the lake and then went over and kissed her hand.
"Dear Miss Tish," he said; "no one realizes more than I your inherent
nobility of soul and steadfastness of purpose. I admire them both. But
if you attempt the Indian nipper business, or to singe me like a chicken
while I sleep, I shall be--forgive me, but I know my impulsiveness of
disposition--I shall be really vexed with you."
Toward the last we all became uneasy for fear hard work was telling on
him physically. He used to sit cross-legged on the ground, sewing for
dear life and singing Hood's "Song of the Shirt" in a doleful tenor.
"You know," he said, "I've thought once or twice I'd like to do
something--have a business like other fellows. But somehow dressmaking
never occurred to me. Don't you think the expression of this right pant
is good? And shall I make this gore bias or on the selvage?"
He wanted to slash one trouser leg.
"Why not?" he demanded when Tish frowned him down. "It's awfully
fetching, and beauty half-revealed, you know. Do you suppose my
breastbone will ever straighten out again? It's concave from stooping."
It was after this that Tish made him exercise morning and evening and
then take a swim in the lake. By the time he was to start back, he was
in wonderful condition, and even the horse looked saucy and shiny, owing
to our rubbing him down each day with dried grasses.
The actual leave-taking was rather sad. We'd grown to think a lot of the
boy and I believe he liked us. He kissed each one of us twice, once for
himself and once for Dorothea, and flushed a little over doing it, and
Aggie's eyes were full of tears.
He rode away down the trail like a mixture of Robinson Crusoe and Indian
brave, his rubbing-fire stick, his sundial with burned figures, and his
bow and arrow jingling, his eagle feather blowing back in the wind, and
his moccasined feet thrust into Mr. Willoughby's stirrups, and left us
desolate. Tish watched him out of sight with set lips and Aggie was
whimpering on a bank.
"Tish," she said brokenly, "does he recall anything to you?"
"Only my age," said Tish rather wearily, "and that I'm an elderly
spinster teaching children to defy their parents and committing larceny
to help them."
"To me," said Aggie softly, "he is young love going out to seek his
mate. Oh, Tish, do you remember how Mr. Wiggins used to ride by taking
his work horses to be shod!"
* * * * *
We went home the following day, which was the time the spring-wagon man
was to meet us. We started very early and were properly clothed and
hatted when we saw him down the road.
The spring-wagon person came on without hurry and surveyed us as he
came.
"Well, ladies," he said, stopping before us, "I see you pulled it off
all right."
"We've had a very nice time, thank you," said Tish, drawing on her
gloves. "It's been rather lonely, of course."
The spring-wagon person did not speak again until he had reached the
open road. Then he turned round.
"The horse business was pretty good," he said. "You ought to hev seen
them folks when he rode out of the wood. Flabbergasted ain't the word.
They was ding-busted."
Tish whispered to us to show moderate interest and to say as little as
possible, except to protest our ignorance. And we got the story at last
like this:--
It seems the newspapers had been full of the attempt Percy was to make,
and so on the day before quite a crowd had gathered to see him come out
of the wood.
"Ten of these here automobiles," said the spring-wagon person, "and a
hay-wagon full of newspaper fellows from the city with cameras, and
about half the village back home walked out or druv and brought their
lunches--sort of a picnic. I kep' my eye on the girl and on a Mr.
Willoughby.
"The story is that Willoughby who was the father's choice--Willoughby
was pale and twitching and kep' moving about all the time. But the girl,
she just kep' her eyes on the trail and waited. Noon was the time set,
or as near it as possible.
"The father talked to the newspaper men mostly. 'I don't think he'll
do it, boys!' he said. 'He's as soft as milk and he's surprised me by
sticking it out as long as he has. But mark my words, boys,' he said,
'he's been living on berries and things he could pick up off the ground,
and if his physical condition's bad he loses all bets!"
It seems that, just as he said it, somebody pulled out a watch and
announced "noon." And on the instant Percy was seen riding down the
trail and whistling. At first they did not know it was he, as they had
expected him to arrive on foot, staggering with fatigue probably. He
rode out into the sunlight, still whistling, and threw an unconcerned
glance over the crowd.
He looked at the trees, and located north by the moss on the trunks, the
S.-W.P. said, and unslinging his Indian clock he held it in front of
him, pointing north and south. It showed exactly noon. It was then, and
not until then, that Percy addressed the astonished crowd.
"Twelve o'clock, gentlemen," he said. "My watch is quite accurate."
Nobody said anything, being, as the S.-W.P. remarked, struck dumb. But
a moment afterward the hay-wagon started a cheer and the machines took
it up. Even the father "let loose," as we learned, and the little girl
sat back in her motor car and smiled through her tears.
But Willoughby was furious. It seems he had recognized the horse.
"That's my horse," he snarled. "You stole it from me."
"As a matter of fact," Percy retorted, "I found the beast wandering
loose among the trees and I'm perfectly willing to return him to you. I
brought him out for a purpose."
"To make a Garrison finish!"
"Not entirely. To prove that you violated the contract by going into the
forest to see if you could find me and gloat over my misery. Instead you
found--By the way, Willoughby, did you see any wild-cats?"
"Those three hags are in this!" said Willoughby furiously. "Are you
willing to swear you made that silly outfit?"
"I am, but not to you."
"And at that minute, if you'll believe me," said the S.-W.P., "the girl
got out of her machine and walked right up to the Percy fellow. I was
standing right by and I heard what she said. It was curious, seeing
he'd had no help and had gone in naked, as you may say, and came out
clothed head to foot, with a horse and weapons and a watch, and able to
make fire in thirty-one seconds, and a tent made of about a thousand
rabbit skins."
Tish eyed him coldly.
"What did she say?" she demanded severely. "She said: 'Those three dear
old things!'" replied the S.-W.P. "And she said: 'I hope you kissed
them for me.'"
"He did indeed," said Aggie dreamily, and only roused when Tish nudged
her in a rage.
* * * * *
Charlie Sands came to have tea with us yesterday at Tish's. He is just
back from England and full of the subject.
"But after all," he said, "the Simple Lifers take the palm. Think of it,
my three revered and dearly beloved spinster friends; think of the
peace, the holy calm of it! Now, if you three would only drink less tea
and once in a while would get back to Nature a bit, it would be good for
you. You're all too civilized."
"Probably," said Tish, pulling down her sleeves to hide her sunburned
hands. "But do you think people have so much time in the--er--woods?"
"Time!" he repeated. "Why, what is there to do?"
Just then the doorbell rang and a huge box was carried in. Tish had a
warning and did not wish to open it, but Charlie Sands insisted and cut
the string. Inside were three sets of sable furs, handsomer than any in
the church, Tish says, and I know I've never seen any like them.
Tish and I hid the cards, but Aggie dropped hers and Charlie Sands
pounced on it.
"'The sleeve is now about Dorothea,'" he read aloud, and then, turning,
eyed us all sternly.
"Now, then," said Charlie Sands, "out with it! What have you been up to
this time?"
Tish returned his gaze calmly. "We have been in the Maine woods in the
holy calm," she said. "As for those furs, I suppose a body may buy a set
of furs if she likes." This, of course, was not a lie. "As for that
card, it's a mistake." Which it was indeed.
"But--Dorothea!" persisted Charlie Sands.
"Never in my life knew anybody named Dorothea. Did you, Aggie?"
"Never," said Aggie firmly.
Charlie Sands apologized and looked thoughtful. On Tish's remaining
rather injured, he asked us all out to dinner that night, and almost the
first thing he ordered was frogs' legs. Aggie got rather white about the
lips.
"I--I think I'll not take any," she said feebly. "I--I keep thinking of
Tish tickling their throats with the hairpin, and how Percy--"
We glared at her, but it was too late. Charlie Sands drew up his chair
and rested his elbows on the table.
"So there was a Percy as well as a Dorothea!" he said cheerfully. "I
might have known it. Now we'll have the story!"