PEAKSLOW IN A TIGHT PLACE.--CECIE.
The storm could not have been two minutes in passing. Then it suddenly
grew light, the tempest lulled, the heavens cleared, and in not more
than ten minutes the sunset sky was smiling again, a sea of tranquil
gold, over the western woods.
Fortunately, only the skirt of the storm had swept over Betterson's
house, doing no very serious damage.
When Vinnie looked again from the window, she saw Snowfoot, still tied
by the halter, standing with drooping head and tail, wet with rain.
Jack, hat in hand, his hair wildly tumbled, was already at the horse's
head, laughing excitedly, and looking back at Rufe and Link, who were
coming to his side. The buggy, he noticed, had been whirled half-way
round by the wind, so that the rear end was turned toward the porch.
Through it all, Lill had clung in terror to Vinnie, whose arms were
still about her. Cecie sat in her chair by the supper-table, white and
speechless from the electric shock which all had felt, and she more
sensibly than the rest. Caroline was in the next room with the child,
whose cries, for a while drowned in the terrible uproar, now broke
forth again, strenuous and shrill. Mr. Betterson, holding the frightened
Chokie, opened the door, and calmly asked the boys if they were hurt.
"We are all right, I guess," cried Rufe. "Wad put for the barn, to make
room for the horse and buggy, which I didn't have time to get there. I
don't know where Rad is."
Wad now appeared; and at the same time the cattle, started homeward by
the storm, came cantering down the woodland road, with the rattling
cowbell, and ran for refuge to the barnyard.
"The big oak behind the house, there,--have you seen it?" cried Wad.
"It's twisted off. And where's the well-curb?"
"That flew to pieces, and the boards went up into the air like kites,--I
saw them," said Link. "Where's the dog?"
"He's in the bushes, or under a log somewhere," Jack replied. "He was
shot at once, with a gun held close to his head,--luckily, there was no
lead in it. For a long time he was afraid of a gun; and thunder, or any
big noise, frightens him even now."
"Some of our fences look pretty flat,--rails tumbled every which way!"
said Rufe. "A good deal of damage must have been done south of us."
"Something looks odd over there toward Peakslow's,--what is it?" cried
Link.
"Some of the tree-tops by the road have been lopped off," replied Jack.
"That isn't all," said Lord Betterson. "Sure as fate, something has
happened to Peakslow's buildings."
"That is what I saw!" Vinnie exclaimed. "Something turned over in the
air like the roof of a house."
"I thought just now I heard cries in that direction," said Jack. "Hark a
moment!"
"There comes somebody," said Rufe, as a girl of twelve years, barefoot,
bonnetless, wild with fright, came running up the road. "It's 'Lecty
Ann!"
Out of breath, almost out of her wits, the girl ran as far as the
door-yard fence, then stopped, as if unable or afraid to go farther,
caught hold of the pickets, and, putting her pale face between them,
gasped out something which nobody could understand.
"What is it?--what's the matter?" cried Jack, advancing toward her.
"House--blowed down--covered up!" was all she could articulate.
"Who is covered up?"
"Don't know--some of the folks--pa, I guess."
Jack did not stop to hear more; but, fired with a generous impulse to
aid the unfortunate, whoever they might be, gave one backward look,
threw up his hand as a signal, shouted "Help, boys!" ran to a length of
fence which the wind had thrown down, bounded over like a deer, and was
off.
Vinnie followed; but was soon overtaken by Mr. Betterson and the boys,
who passed her, as if running a race. Then she heard screams behind;
and there was Chokie, sprawling over the prostrate fence, which he had
rashly taken, in his eagerness to keep up with Lill.
By the time Chokie was extricated Mrs. Betterson appeared, babe in arms,
tottering out of the door, and hastening, in the excitement of the
moment, to learn what dreadful catastrophe had overtaken their
neighbors.
"Stay with Arthur and your mother," Vinnie said to Lill; "_I_ may do
something to help." And away she sped.
'Lecty Ann, met by Mrs. Betterson at the gate, was now able to tell more
of her story; and so strange, so tragical it seemed, that Caroline
forgot all about her ill health, the baby in her arms, and Cecie left
alone in the house, and brought up the rear of the little
procession,--Lill and 'Lecty Ann and Chokie preceding her down the road.
They had not gone far, when Lion came out of the woods, with downcast
ears and tail, ashamed of his recent cowardly conduct. And so,
accompanied by the dog and the children,--Lill lugging the baby at
last,--Caroline approached the scene of the disaster.
The whole force of the tornado seemed to have fallen upon Peakslow's
buildings. The stable was unroofed, and the barn had lost a door.
The house had fared still worse: it was--even as 'Lecty Ann had
said--almost literally "blowed down."
It had consisted of two parts,--a pretty substantial log-cabin, which
dated back to the earliest days of the settlement, and a framed
addition, called a lean-to, or "linter." The roof of the old part had
been lifted, and tumbled, with some of the upper logs, a mass of ruins,
over upon the linter, which had been crushed to the ground by the
weight.
Mrs. Peakslow and the girls and younger children were in the log-house
at the time; and, marvellous as it seemed, all had escaped serious
injury.
The boys were in the field with their father, and had run a race with
the tornado. The tornado beat. Dud was knocked down within a few rods of
the house. Zeph was blown up on a stack of hay, and lodged there; the
stack itself--and this was one of the curious freaks of the
whirlwind--being uninjured, except that it was canted over a little, and
ruffled a good deal, as if its feathers had been stroked the wrong way.
Mr. Peakslow was ahead of the boys; and they thought he must have
reached the linter.
Zeph, slipping down from his perch in the haystack, as soon as the storm
had passed, and seeing the house in ruins, and his mother and sisters
struggling to get out, had run screaming for help down the road toward
Mr. Wiggett's. Dud remained; and by pushing from without, while the
imprisoned family lifted and pulled from within, helped to move a log
which had fallen down against the closed door, and so aided the escape
from the house.
'Lecty Ann ran to the nearest neighbor's up the river. The rest stayed
by the ruins; and there Lord Betterson and Jack--the earliest on the
spot--found them, a terrified group, bewildered, bewailing, gazing
hopelessly and helplessly at the unroofed cabin and crushed linter, and
calling for "Pa."
"Where is your husband, Mrs. Peakslow?" cried Jack.
"O, I don't know where he is, 'thout he's there!" said the poor woman,
with a gesture of despair toward the ruined linter.
"This rubbish must be removed," said Lord Betterson. "If friend Peakslow
is under it, he can't be taken out too soon."
And with his own hands he set to work, displaying an energy of will and
coolness of judgment which would have astonished Jack, if he had not
once before seen something of what was in the man.
Jack and the boys seconded their father; and now Dud came and worked
side by side with Wad and Rufe.
A broken part of the roof was knocked to pieces, and the rafters were
used for levers and props. The main portion of the roof was next turned
over, and got out of the way. Then one by one the logs were removed; all
hands, from Lord Betterson down to Link, working like heroes.
Meanwhile, Vinnie did what she could to aid and comfort Mrs. Peakslow;
and Caroline and her little company came and looked on.
Mr. Wiggett also arrived, with Zeph, and helped get away the last of the
logs.
Under the logs was the crushed shell of the linter; and all looked
anxiously, to see what was under that.
A good many things were under it,--pots and kettles, wash-tubs,
milk-pans (badly battered), churn and cheese-press, bed and
trundle-bed,--but no Peakslow.
It was a disappointment, and yet a relief, not to find him there, after
all. But where was he? Dud ran back to the field, to look for him; while
the others rested from their labors.
"Did the wind do you much damage, Mr. Wiggett?" Lord inquired.
"Not so much as it mout," replied the old man. "It was mighty suddent.
Banged if I knowed what in seven kingdoms was a-gwine to happen. It
roared and bellered that orful, I didn't know but the etarnal smash-up
had come."
"It must have passed pretty near your house,--I saw it swing that way,"
said Jack.
"Wal, I reckon you're right thar, young man. It jest took holt o' my
cabin, an' slewed one corner on't around about five or six inches; an'
done no more damage, in partic'lar, fur's I can diskiver; only, of
course, it discomfusticated that ar' noon-mark. I left the ol' woman
mournin' over that!"
Jack laughed, and promised to replace the noon-mark.
"There's Dud a-yelling!" said Link.
[Illustration: PEAKSLOW REAPPEARS.]
The roof of the shed--which must have been the object Vinnie saw rise
and turn in the air--had been taken off very neatly, with the two gable
pieces, whirled over once or more, and then landed gently, right side up
with care, on the edge of the potato-patch, two or three rods away. Dud,
hunting for his father, passed near it, and heard stifled cries come
from under it. He was yelling, indeed, as Link said.
In a moment a dozen feet rushed to the spot, and a dozen hands laid hold
of one side of the roof, under which Jack thrust a lever. Some lifted on
the lever, while some lifted on the edge of the roof itself; and out
crawled--bushy head and hooked nose fore-most--the shaggy shape of the
elder Peakslow.
The roof was let down again as soon as Peakslow's legs were well
from under it, and a wondering group--men, boys, women, and
children--gathered round to see if he was hurt.
"Wal!" said Peakslow, getting upon his feet, giving his clothes a brush
with his broad hand, and staring about him, "this is a mighty perty
piece of business! Didn't none on ye hear me call?"
"Did you call?" said Mrs. Peakslow, trembling with joy and fright.
"Call?" echoed Peakslow, feeling his left shoulder with his right hand.
"I believe I b'en callin' there for the last half-hour. What was ye
knockin' that ruf to pieces for? I could hear ye, an' see ye, an' I
wanted to put a stop to 't. Hadn't the wind damaged me enough, but you
must pitch in?"
"We thought you were under the ruins," Mr. Betterson replied with
dignity.
"Thought I was under the ruins! What made ye think that?" growled
Peakslow.
"I thought so--I told them so," Mrs. Peakslow explained; while Lord
Betterson walked away with calm disgust.
"Ye might 'a' knowed better'n that! Here I was under this ruf all the
time. It come over on to me like a great bird, knocked me down with a
flop of its wing,--mos' broke my shoulder, I believe; an' when I come to
myself, and peeked through a crack, there was a crew knockin' the ruf o'
the house to flinders. I was too weak to call very loud, but, if you'd
cared much, I should think ye might 'a' heard me. Look a' that house,
now! look a' that shed! It's the blastedest luck!"
Jack couldn't help smiling. Peakslow turned upon him furiously.
"You here? So ye think my boy's a thief, do ye?"
"Come, Lion! come, boys!" said Jack, and started to follow Mr.
Betterson, without more words.
"Come here and 'cuse my boy o' stealin'!" said Peakslow, turning, and
looking all about him, as if he had hardly yet regained his senses. "I
had a hat somewheres. Hundred dollars--no, nor two hundred--won't pay
the damage done to me this day."
"But the children, they are all safe," said Mrs. Peakslow, "and we ought
to be thankful."
"Thankful! Look a' that linter! _Three_ hundred won't do it!"
"O pa!" cried Zeph, "you've got a great gash on the back o' your head!"
"Never mind the gash," said Peakslow, putting up his hand. "That'll
heal itself. Holes in the buildin's won't."
Vinnie meanwhile conferred with Jack and Mr. Betterson, as they were
about going away; and also called her sister, and afterward Mrs.
Peakslow, to the consultation.
"O, I don't know, Lavinia dear!" said Caroline in great distress of
mind.
But Lord Betterson spoke out manfully,--
"Lavinia is right. Mrs. Peakslow, we have plenty of spare room in our
house, which you are welcome to till you can do better."
"O Mr. Betterson!" the poor woman sobbed out, quite overcome by this
unexpected kindness, "you are too good!"
"I beg your pardon," replied Lord Betterson, in his most gracious
manner. "We wish simply to do as we might wish neighbors to do by us
under similar circumstances. Our boys will help yours get your things
over to my house,--whatever you want, Mrs. Peakslow."
Lord did not much mind the woman's outburst of tears and thanks; but
when he observed the look of admiration and gratitude in Vinnie's deep
eyes, fixed upon him, he felt an unaccustomed thrill.
Mrs. Peakslow went weeping back to her husband.
"I am sorry you spoke as you did," she said. "We all thought you was
under the linter; and they was all workin' so hard--as if they had been
our best friends--to get you out."
"Best friends!" repeated Peakslow, with a snort of angry contempt.
"Yes, pa; and now,--will you believe it?--now that we haven't a ruf to
our heads, they offer us shelter in _their_ house!"
"In the castle?--huh!" sneered Peakslow. "I never thought 't would come
to that!"
"Where else _can_ we go?" said Mrs. Peakslow. "It's 'most night,--nights
are beginnin' to be cold,--and think o' the children! 'T will be weeks,
I s'pose, 'fore ye can rebuild."
"If I couldn't rebuild in all etarnity, I wouldn't set foot in Lord
Betterson's castle!" said Peakslow. He looked again at the ruined house,
then at the children, and added: "Me an' the boys, we can stop in the
stable, or dig holes in the stack, to make ourselves comf'table. Do what
you're a min' ter, for the rest. But don't say _I_ told ye to ask or
accept a favor of _them_."
The Bettersons, Vinnie, and Jack were waiting between the ruined house
and the road; and Mrs. Betterson was saying, "Lillie, you and I _must_
be going back; remember, we left Cecie all alone; and the evening air is
too chill for the baby," when Link cried,--
"Who's that coming down the road?"
All turned; and Vinnie and Jack and Link ran out to look. They could
scarcely believe their eyes.
"It can't be!" said Vinnie.
"Yes, it is," exclaimed Link; "it's her--it's her!"
"Who?" Caroline inquired anxiously, dreading some new calamity.
"Cecie! Cecie, sure as the world!" said two or three at once.
It was indeed the little invalid, who, though she had scarcely taken a
step without help for many months, was actually coming down the road,
walking, and walking fast, without even the crutch she had sometimes
tried to use!
She was beckoning and calling. Jack and Vinnie and the boys ran to meet
her. She was pale and very much excited, and it was some time before she
could speak coherently.
"Radcliff!" was almost her first word.
"What about Radcliff? where is he?" Vinnie asked.
"Gone!"
"Gone where?"
"I don't know. He came into the house--he saw the pocket-book and money
on the table--I told him he mustn't take them!"
"And did he?" said Rufe.
"Yes. He only laughed at me. He said his chance had come."
"Which way did he go?"
"He drove up through the woods."
"Drove?" echoed Jack.
"He took the horse and buggy."
"_My_ horse and buggy!" And Jack, followed by Lion and Rufe and Link,
started up the road.
Though shocked at Radcliff's conduct, Vinnie thought less of the loss of
the money, and of the horse and buggy, than of the seeming miracle in
Cecie's case.
"How could you walk so, Cecie?"
"I don't know. I suppose it was the excitement. Strength came to me. I
called, but could not make anybody hear, and I thought you ought to
know."
Mr. Betterson would have carried her home in his arms, but she would not
let him.
"I can walk better and better! That numbness of my limbs is almost gone.
I believe I am going to be cured, after all!"