JACK AND VINNIE IN CHICAGO.
Vinnie poured out her story to her friend as they walked along the
street.
Jack was so incensed, when she came to the upshot of the adventure, that
he wished to go back at once and make the slim youth's acquaintance. But
she would not permit so foolish a thing.
"It is all over now. What good would it do for you to see him?"
"I don't know; I'd like to tell the scamp what I think of him, if
nothing more. He wanted a little fun, did he?" And Jack stood, pale with
wrath, looking back at the hotel.
"If it hadn't been for him, I might not have seen you," said Vinnie.
"Maybe you can't forgive him that!"
Jack looked into her eyes, full of a sweet, mirthful light, and forgot
his anger.
"I'll forgive him the rest, _because_ of that. Besides, I've no time to
waste on him. I'm hunting for my horse."
He had written to Vinnie of his loss; and she was now eager to know if
Snowfoot had been heard from.
"Not a hair of him!" said Jack. "I got an old hunter and trapper to go
with me the next day; we struck his trail on the prairie, and after a
deal of trouble tracked him to a settler's cabin. There the rogue had
stopped, and asked for supper and lodgings, which he promised to pay for
in the morning. The man and his wife had gone to bed, but they got up,
fed him and the horse, and then made him up a bed on the cabin floor. He
pretended to be very careful of his horse, and he had to go out and make
sure that he was all right before he went to bed; and that was the last
they saw of him. He bridled Snowfoot, and rode off so slyly that they
never knew which way he went. He had struck the travelled road, and
there we lost all trace of him. I went on to Joliet, and looked along
the canal, and set stablemen to watch for him, while my friend took the
road to Chicago; but neither of us had any luck. I've hunted all about
the country for him; and now, for a last chance, I've come to Chicago
myself."
"How long have you been here?" Vinnie asked.
"Only about two hours; and I must go back to-morrow. I've not much hope
of finding Snowfoot here; but as I had a chance to ride in with a
neighbor, I thought best to take advantage of it. Lucky I did! Why
didn't you write and let somebody know you were coming?"
"I did write to my sister; but I didn't expect anybody to meet me here
in Chicago, since I couldn't tell just when I should arrive."
"Where are you stopping?"
"On board the schooner that brought me. She is lying quite near here, at
a wharf in the river."
"Can you stay on board till to-morrow?"
Vinnie thought the captain and his wife would be glad to keep her.
"Though it isn't very nice," she added, "now that they are discharging
the cargo."
"Perhaps you had better go to the Farmers' Home, where my friend and I
have put up," said Jack.
"You at the Farmers' Home! Why couldn't I have known it?" said Vinnie.
"It was there I went to inquire for Long Woods people, and met that
scape-grace. When do you go home?"
"We start early to-morrow morning. You can go with us as well as not,--a
good deal better than not!" said the overjoyed Jack. "Nothing but a
little load of groceries. You shall go home with me to North Mills; Mrs.
Lanman will be glad to see you. Then I'll drive you over to Long Woods
in three or four days."
"Three or four days!" exclaimed Vinnie, not daring to be as happy as
these welcome words might have made her. "I should like much to visit
your friends; but I must get to my sister's as soon as possible."
Jack's face clouded.
"Vinnie, I'm afraid you don't know what you have undertaken. I can't
bear the thought of your going into that family. Why do you? The Lanmans
will be delighted to have you stay with them."
"O, but I must go where I am needed," Vinnie answered. "And you mustn't
say a word against it. You must help me, Jack!"
"They need you enough, Heaven knows, Vinnie!" Jack felt that he ought
not to say another word to discourage her, so he changed the subject.
"Which way now is your schooner?"
Vinnie said she would show him; but she wished to buy a little present
for the captain's wife on the way. As they passed along the street, she
made him tell all he knew of her sister's family; and then asked if he
had heard from George Greenwood lately.
"Only a few days ago he sent me a magazine with a long story of his in
it, founded on our adventure with the pickpockets," replied Jack. "He
writes me a letter about once a month. You hear from him, of course?"
"O yes. And he sends me magazines. He has wonderful talent, don't you
think so?"
And the two friends fell to praising the absent George.
"I wonder if you have noticed one thing?" said Vinnie.
"What, in particular?"
"That Grace Manton has been the heroine of all his last stories."
"I fancied I could see you in one or two of them," replied Jack.
"Perhaps. But I am not the heroine; I am only the goody-goody girl,"
laughed Vinnie. "When you see beauty, talent, accomplishments,--that's
Grace. I am glad they are getting on so well together."
"So am I!" said Jack, with an indescribable look at the girl beside him.
"Mr. Manton is dead,--I suppose you know it," said Vinnie.
Jack knew it, and was not sorry; though he had much to say in praise of
the man's natural talents, which dissipation had ruined.
The purchase made, they visited the schooner, where it was decided that
Vinnie should remain on board. Jack then left her, in order to make the
most of his time looking about the city for his horse.
He continued his search, visiting every public stable, making inquiries
of the hostlers, and nailing up or distributing a small handbill he had
had printed, offering a reward of twenty dollars for "a light, reddish
roan horse, with white forefeet, a conspicuous scar low down on the near
side, just behind the shoulder, and a smaller scar on the off hip."
In the mean time he kept a sharp lookout for roan horses in the streets.
But all to no purpose. There were roan horses enough, but he could see
and hear nothing of the particular roan he wanted.
In the evening he went to see Vinnie on board the schooner, and talked
of his ill success.
"A light roan? that's a kind of gray, ain't it?" said the captain of the
Heron. "That bearish fellow from Long Woods, who wouldn't take into his
wagon anybody connected with the Bettersons--"
"Dudley Peakslow,--I sha'n't soon forget his name!" said Vinnie.
"He drove such a horse," said the captain; "though I didn't notice the
forefeet or any scars."
Jack laughed, and shook his head.
"That's what everybody says. But the scars and forefeet are the main
points in my case. I wouldn't give a cent for a roan horse without 'em!"
Then he changed the subject. "It's a beautiful night, Vinnie; let's go
for a little stroll on the lake shore, and forget all about
roans,--light roans, dark roans, white feet, black, blue, green, yellow
feet! Perhaps your friends will go with us."
Jack hoped they wouldn't, I regret to say. But the night was so
pleasant, and the captain's wife had become so attached to Vinnie, that
she persuaded her husband to go.
The lake shore was charming; for in those early days it had not been
marred by breakwaters and docks. The little party strolled along the
beach, with the sparkling waves dashing at their feet, and the lake
spread out before them, vast, fluctuating, misty-gray, with here and
there a white crest tossing in the moon.
Singing snatches of songs with Vinnie, telling stories with the captain,
skipping pebbles on the lake,--ah, how happy Jack was! He was glad,
after all, that they had all come together, since there was now no
necessity of Vinnie's hastening back to the schooner, to prevent her
friends from sitting up for her.
"I've been in this port fifty times," said the captain, "but I've never
been down here before, neither has my wife; and I'm much obliged to you
for bringing us."
"I like the lake," said his wife, "but I like it best from shore."
"O, so do I!" said Vinnie, filled with the peace and beauty of the
night.
It was late when they returned to the schooner. There Jack took his
leave, bidding Vinnie hold herself in readiness to be taken off, with
her trunk, in a grocer's wagon early the next morning.