FOREST AND FIRE
Mrs. Brook came home at tea-time and found Fräulein Bunsen looking
anxious, for Jean and Frances had not yet returned.
“I’ll send Douglas for them,” said she. “Cecily, run and see if you can
catch him.”
Cecily and Betty both flew. Douglas was out of sight and on the way to
the livery-stable with the buckboard by the time they reached the road,
but there they met Frances, Bob and Ted.
“Why, Frances! Where’s Jean?” cried Cecily.
“Poking over Limpy still, I suppose,” said the Mouse. “I was so sick and
tired of waiting for her, I took a walk with the boys. I left a note for
her.”
“Well, you go in and tell Mother we’ve gone to meet her,” said Cecily,
hurrying away with Betty.
Before they returned the tally-ho party arrived.
“We’ve had a perfectly glorious time!” said Carol. “Just as we came to
Deer Lake Mrs. Clinton suddenly decided to go on to Blue Heron Pond and
have luncheon at the Inn. That’s why we were gone such ages. Where’s
that child of mine? I bought this stuffed heron at the Inn for her.”
While Mrs. Brook was telling how Jean had kept her appointment, Douglas
came in, and a moment later Cecily and Betty appeared in great
excitement.
“Jean started—to come back—more than an hour ago!” panted Cecily. “She
must have lost her way, or something’s happened to her!” Carol turned
white.
“Don’t be frightened,” said Mrs. Brook. “We shall find her. We must
send—”
“I’ll start right off,” Douglas interrupted. “Wait till I get a
lantern.” And he dashed away for a light.
“I’m afraid she started out to look for you, Frances,” said Mrs. Brook.
“Yes, I’m sure she did,” broke in Cecily. “What did you say in your
note?”
Frances hesitated.
“Yes, what did you say?” asked Miss Hamersley sternly.
“I told her I was going to the flume,” said Frances faintly.
“To the flume!” exclaimed Mrs. Brook.
“Bob and Ted took me,” murmured Frances, “but she wouldn’t have gone
after _me_.”
“That’s just what she’s done!” cried Carol. “And it will be pitch dark
in the woods soon! She’s certain to lose her way, and she’ll go crazy
with fright!” Carol’s grip on Frances’ arm, her white face, and the fire
flashing in her eyes so terrified the culprit that she burst out crying,
and the rest of her confession came out with sobs.
“I’m off for the flume now,” said Douglas, who had come back with a
lantern.
“Take Rod with you,” said Cecily. “He’ll find her,—I know he will!” She
knelt down, took her collie’s head between her hands, and said: “Rod,
find Jean. Find Jean.”
The dog’s intelligent eyes looked into his mistress’s and answered, “I
promise.”
“Get something to give him the scent,” said Douglas. “Got a shoe?”
Cecily brought one of Jean’s shoes, and the boy and the dog went off
towards the woods.
“Now,” said Mrs. Brook, “someone must go to Hurricane and send one of
the boys to the Inn for guides. We must get search parties started.”
“I’ll go!” And Carol darted away, with Miss Hamersley after her, on the
Hurricane trail.
“Don’t be worried,” said Court consolingly, when the breathless
messengers had told their errand. “She’ll be found soon,—I haven’t a
doubt of it. Jack, go over to the Inn and order out the guides. I’ll
start along Troublesome Path.”
“I’ll go with you, Court,” said his father, as Jack rushed down to the
dock. They accompanied Miss Hamersley and Carol to Huairarwee, and then
with the dogs, Blarny and Blunder, hastened away on their quest.
And now followed a long, anxious waiting.
Frances had run away in the midst of her fit of crying, and was
discovered by Cecily under the platform of her tent, crouching on the
cold earth, a heap of woe!
“Come out, Frances! Don’t cry so dreadfully,” coaxed Cecily, ready to
cry herself. “Come and get your supper.”
“I’m—afraid—she’s tumbled—down a—precipice! I just know I’ve killed
her!” sobbed poor Frances. “Leave me alone! I don’t want any supper!”
And no pleading could draw forth the wretched Mouse.
Carol too was suffering bitterly. All the hopeful words her friends
could offer were powerless to comfort. She paced up and down out of
doors, straining her eyes in the darkness for the flash of a lantern
heralding the wanderer’s return, and working herself into a frenzy by
picturing all the accidents that might have befallen Jean.
No second sight enabled the heavy-hearted watchers to follow Douglas and
Roderick Dhu. From the beginning of the flume trail, onward for some
distance, the dog’s keen nose traced Jean’s course.
“It’s up to us to find her now!” said Douglas. “That’s tight! Go it, old
boy! We must get her before she’s scared to death. She won’t lose her
grit in a hurry though,—you can bet your life on that! Hello! what’s the
matter?” The collie had stopped short. Douglas shouted and hallooed. Rod
ran about sniffing and suddenly grew excited over a fresh scent.
“Hooray! Now we’ve got it! Now we’ll run her down _sure_, won’t we, old
fellow?” The dog ran on, nose to the ground, until the scent failed him
once more. Then he looked up and confessed by his apologetic eyes and
whine that he was nonplussed.
“Stumped, are you?” said Douglas. “Oh, come now! What’s the matter with
you? Can’t you smell out a scent two hours old? Here,—try the shoe
again!” But the poor dog whined and snuffled hopelessly about. “You’re
no good! It’s because you’re a girl’s dog! They didn’t teach you
anything but how to shake hands!” Roderick Dhu’s tail drooped. “Poor old
duffer! You’ll just have to follow me.”
Douglas patted Rod. The dog cheered up and his plume began to wave once
more. He followed Douglas, who was trying what might once have been a
trail. The boy made turn after turn, calling and listening, and casting
his light on every hollow or nook suggesting a pitfall or place of
shelter. All the time it was growing darker, and the farther he pushed
on the denser the woods became.
Clever young woodsman though he was he soon found that he had lost his
bearings.
“Hello! That was a close call!” He had almost fallen over a ledge of
rock. “Suppose she’s tumbled over a place like that!” He set his teeth
as he thought how Jean might be lying injured and helpless after some
dreadful fall; and he pushed on, shouting himself hoarse. At last the
clue came; the dog’s nose had found it.
“Hooray! Good boy, Rod!” said Douglas. The collie led him through a
clump of alders, down a bank to a half dried brook, and along its stony
bed. Suddenly the boy began to sniff too. “Smoke!” he exclaimed. “I’ll
have to see to that next! Hello! Where’re you going now?” The dog had
left the brook and was trotting up the slope. Douglas followed, shouting
Jean’s name, and this time a faint cry answered him. It sounded like,
“Here! Here!”
“I’m coming!” he called, and led by Rod he reached the windfall, through
which the dog bounded. A sharp bark, a joyful cry, and Douglas knew that
Jean was found. He crashed through the fallen trees, and as he stepped
out he heard, “Oh, Rod, you darling, dear old dog!”
There stood Jean, struggling to keep her balance as Roderick Dhu, with
his paws on her shoulders and his nose in her face, showered her with
kisses; and there, almost at her feet, the smoke was rising. The boy
dashed to her side.
“Here I am, Jean! Hooray! I’ve found you! Get down, Rod,—don’t eat her
up!”
“Oh, Douglas! How did you ever find me? I’ve been lost hours and hours,
and I was so terribly frightened! Oh, I’m so glad! I’m so glad!” Jean
clung to him quivering, in the rush of joy and relief.
“You poor little thing!” said Douglas soothingly. “I should think you’d
have gone crazy! It was awful for you! But you’re all right now! I’ve
got you safe, and I’m going to take you right home. What are you
standing in the fire for? Don’t you see it’s burning all around you?”
“Yes, and I’ve been trying to put it out, but I can’t.”
“Great guns! You’ve been trying to put it out? Jean, you’re a brick!
What were you doing? Stamping it out?”
“No. I carried water in my hat!”
Douglas began to laugh.
“It’s a _canvas_ hat,” Jean explained; “but it doesn’t hold much. Can’t
_you_ put it out, Douglas? The woods’ll all get on fire if you don’t.”
“Yes, I’ll stamp it out. I only want to see if you’re all right first.
How did you ever get over here? You’re way off the trail.”
“I don’t know. I was trying to get to the flume to find Frances. She’s
lost too!”
“_She!_ Not much! She was off larking with Bob and Ted. She got back all
right. I bet all the guides are out after you by this time! We’ve beaten
them all to smithereens, haven’t we, Rod? Get down, sir, get down!
That’s right, Jean,—hold on to me. You’re all shaky! What’s the matter?
Didn’t hurt yourself, did you?”
“No, not much.”
“Look here! You’re not going to cry, are you?” asked Douglas in sudden
alarm.
“Of course I’m not going to cry!”
“That’s right! You’re the stuff!” Douglas patted her on the back. “Now,”
he added, “I’m going to beat that fire out. Wait till I get a stick.” He
attacked the smoking ground with a branch from the windfall, and stamped
with his heavy boots. Jean sat on a fallen tree, fondling Rod, and
watching while her enemy was conquered.
“Are they terribly worried about me at home?” she called.
“Seared stiff!” Douglas called back. “Lucky you didn’t pitch down one of
those gullies! I was afraid you had.”
“I was sure you’d come after me,” said Jean, “but I thought you’d
_never_ find me!”
“Rod did it mostly,” answered Douglas.
Jean patted the dog. “Wasn’t he splendid!” said she.
Upturning, beating, stamping, Douglas kept at his work until he had gone
over every inch of ground touched by the fire, and crushed out every
spark.
“It’s out now, every bit of it!” he cried at last. “I wonder how it
started.”
“Tony Harrel did it,” said Jean.
“Great, Cæsar! Tony? What do you mean?”
“I can’t tell you here. He might be around.”
“Well, if he’s around there are enough people out looking for you to
catch him and chuck him into the flume,” said Douglas.
“Oh, hush! Don’t talk so loud,” begged Jean. “Let’s start home quick.
I’ll tell you as we go.”
“Look here! I’m lost myself,” said Douglas. “We’ll have to follow that
brook down. I bet it’s the one that cuts across the flume trail.”
They began the homeward tramp, and Jean told him as they went the whole
story of the afternoon.
“Tony’s a sneak! He ought to be shot!” said Douglas. “He didn’t start
that fire though.”
“Why, how do you know?” asked Jean.
“Oh, he was just bluffing to scare Limpy. That fire hadn’t just started,
either. It must have been creeping through the duff for ever so long.”
It was a rough road down the stony edge of the brook, but they found
that Douglas had guessed right, for it crossed the flume trail.
“We’re on the home run now,” said the boy. But to Jean it looked like a
very long slow run indeed. Suddenly they heard voices; then lanterns
shone out. Dr. Hamilton and Court were coming back from a fruitless
journey to the flume. The weary march ended at once. Court and his
father made a queen’s chair and Jean rode home in triumph.
As they neared the camp Douglas ran ahead and shouted, “Here she is!”
The girls came running to meet her, Carol and Cecily first of all, and
she was caught and clasped in her friends’ arms.
“Douglas found her!” said Court. “She was putting out a forest fire! She
and Douglas have saved the woods! She’s a trump!”
“She’s a brick!” said Douglas.
“She’s a heroine!” said Dr. Hamilton. “She’s proved herself a true
battle maid.”
While Jean and Douglas were having their supper, they told their story
together, their excited hearers interrupting with praises of Jean’s
courage, and giving Douglas and Roderick Dhu their full share of glory.
“Where’s Frances? Isn’t she glad I’m back?” asked Jean. The Mouse had
not come to welcome her, but they found her face downward on her cot.
She would not raise her head till Jean bent over her, saying, “Please,
Friskie, look up. I can’t go to bed till you give me a kiss.” Then she
sat up, displaying tear-wet cheeks, and red, swollen eyes.
“Oh, Jean,” she said, “I didn’t mean to get you lost! Oh, I—I
thought—you were dead!”
“Well, I’m not,” Jean answered cheerily. “Don’t cry, Mousie. I’m glad I
was lost. If I hadn’t been, I wouldn’t have found the fire.” She gave
Frances a kiss, but it lighted on the crown of her head, for the poor
Mouse ducked in self-abasement.
Carol did not leave Jean for a moment till she was safely tucked in bed.
When the light was out she knelt beside the cot, put her arms around
Jean, and laid her head on the pillow beside her.
“Shall I keep you awake if I stay here a few minutes, darling?” she
asked. “I want to be sure I have you safe again.”
“I wish you’d stay till I go to sleep,” said Jean. “It’s so good to have
_you_ again, Big Sister, dear! I thought at one time I’d never get home.
I thought I’d just have to die there!”
The clasp of Carol’s arms tightened. “Oh, my precious Little Sister!”
she whispered. “I never knew before how much I loved you!”