CHAPTER III "GET A HORSE!"
"Hello there, Coz!" shouted Nat White, as Dorothy stepped from the train."And there's Tavia--and well! If it isn't Bob Niles!"
"Yes," said Dorothy, postponing further greetings until the train shouldpull out, and Tavia's last hand-wave be returned. "We met him coming up,and he goes to Dalton."
"Well I'll be jiggered! And he has Tavia for company!" exclaimed theyoung man, who for years had regarded Tavia as his particular property,as far as solid friendship was concerned.
"And Tavia has already vowed to be mean to him," said Dorothy, as she nowpressed her warm cheek against that of her cousin, the latter's beingbriskly red from the snowy air. "She would scarcely speak to him on thetrain."
"A bad sign," said Nat, as he helped Dorothy with her bag. "There are theBlakes. May as well ask them up; their machine does not seem to bearound."
The pretty little country station was gay with holiday arrivals, andamong them were many known to Dorothy and her popular cousin. The Blakesgladly accepted the invitation to ride over in the _Fire Bird_, theirauto having somehow missed them.
"You look--lovely," Mabel Blake complimented Dorothy.
"Doesn't she?" chimed in Mabel's brother, at which Dorothy buried herface deeper in her furs. Nat cranked up; and soon the _Fire Bird_ was onits way toward the Cedars, the country home of Mrs. Nathaniel White, andher two sons, Nat and Ned. Mrs. White was the only sister of Major Dale,Dorothy's father, and the Dale family, Dorothy and her brothers, Joe andlittle Roger, had lately made their home with her.
It lacked but a few days of Christmas, and the snowstorm added much tothe beauty of the scene, while the cold was not so severe as to make theweather unpleasant. All sorts of happy remembrances were recalled betweenthe occupants of the automobile, as it bravely made its way throughdrifts and small banks.
"Oh, there's old Peter!" exclaimed Dorothy, as a man, his stoopedshoulders hidden under a load of evergreens, trudged along.
"And such a heavy burden," added Mabel. "Couldn't we give him a lift?"
Nat slowed up a little to give the old man more room in the roadway."Those Christmas trees are poor company in a machine," he said. "I havetried them before."
"But it is so hard for him to travel all the way to the village?" pleadedDorothy. "We could put his trees on back, and he could----"
"Sit with you and Mabel?" and Ted Blake laughed at the idea.
"No, you could do that?" retorted Dorothy, "and Peter could ride withNat. Please, Nat----"
"Oh, all right, Coz, if it will make you happy. I wish, sometimes, I werelame, halt and old enough--to know." Whereat he stopped the machine andinsisted on old Peter doing as the girls had suggested.
It was no easy matter to get the trees, and the bunches of greens,securely fastened to the back of the auto, but it was finallyaccomplished. Peter was profuse in his thanks, for the greens had beenspecially ordered, he said, and he was already late in delivering them.
"Which way do you go?" asked Nat.
"Out to the Squire's," replied Peter. "But that road is soft, I wouldn'task you take it."
"Oh, I guess we can make it," proposed Nat. "The _Fire Bird_ is not quitea locomotive."
"She goes like a bird, sure enough," affirmed Peter. "But that road isfull of ditches."
"We will try them, at any rate," insisted Nat, as he turned from the mainroad to a narrow stretch of white track that cut through woods and farmlands.
"If we are fortunate enough not to meet anything," said Dorothy. "But Ihave always been afraid of a single road, bound with ditches."
"Of course," growled Nat, "there comes Terry with his confounded cows."
Plowing along, his head down and his whip in hand came Terry, thehalf-witted boy who, Winter and Summer, drove the cows from their fieldor barn to the slaughter house. He never raised his head as Nat tootedthe horn, and by the time the machine was abreast of the drove of cattle,Nat was obliged to make a quick swerve to avoid striking the animals.
"Oh!" gasped both Dorothy and Mabel. The car lunged, then came to asudden stop, while the engine still pounded to get ahead.
"Hang the luck!" groaned Nat, vainly trying to start the car, which wasplainly stalled.
"I told you," commented Peter, inappropriately. "This here road----"
"Oh, hang the road!" interrupted Nat. "It was that loon--Terry."
As the young man spoke Terry passed along as mutely as if nothing hadhappened.
"I'd like to try that whip on him, to see if I could wake him up," saidTed, as he leaped out after Nat to see what could be done to get the carback on the road.
But it was an impossible task. Pushing, pulling, prying with fencerails--all efforts left the big, red car stuck just where it hadfloundered.
"I know," spoke Peter, suddenly. "I'll get Sanders's horse."
"Sanders wouldn't lend his horse to pull a man out of a ditch," said Nat."I've asked him before."
"That's where you made a mistake," replied Peter. "I won't ask him," andhe awkwardly managed to get out of the car, and was soon out on the roadand making his way across the snow-covered fields.
"We may be tried for horse-stealing next," remarked Ted, grimly. "Girls,are you perishing?"
"Not a bit of it," declared Dorothy. "This snow is warm rather thancold."
"My face is burning," insisted Mabel. "But I do hope old Sanders does notset his dogs on us."
"He's as deaf as a post," Ted said. "That's a blessing--this time, atleast."
"There goes Peter in the barn," Dorothy remarked. "He has got that farsafely, at any rate."
A strained silence followed this announcement. Yes, Peter had gone intothe barn. It seemed night would come before he could possibly secure theold horse, and get to the roadway to give the necessary pull to thestalled _Fire Bird_. They waited, eagerly watching the barn door. Finallyit opened. Yes, Peter was coming, leading the horse.
"Now!" said Peter, standing with an emergency rope ready, "if only hegets past the house----"
He stopped. The door of the snow-covered cottage opened, and there stoodthe unapproachable Sanders.
"Oh!" gasped Mabel. "Now we are in for it!"
"Then," said Dorothy, "let us be ready for it. I'll prepare the defence,"and before they realized what she was about to do she had selected one ofthe very choicest Christmas trees, and with it on her fur-coveredshoulder, actually started up the box-wood lined walk to where themuch-dreaded Sanders was standing, ready to mete out vengeance on the manwho had dared to enter his barn, and take from it his horse.
"Oh Mr. Sanders!" called Dorothy. "Have you that dear littlegrand-daughter with you? The pretty one we had at the church affair lastyear?"
"You mean Emily?" he drawled. "Yep, she's here, but----"
"Then, you wonder why we have taken your horse? And why we were stalledhere?" The others could hear her from the roadway. They could see, also,that Sanders had stopped to listen. "Now we want Emily to have aChristmas tree, all her own," went on Dorothy, "and Peter is good enoughto donate it. But our machine--those cars are not like horses," shealmost shouted, as Sanders being deaf, and watching the inexorable Peterleading his horse away, had cause to be aroused from his naturalsurprise. "After all," persisted Dorothy, "a horse is the best."
By this time Peter was outside the big gate. Sanders made a move as if tofollow, when Dorothy almost dropped the clumsy tree.
"Oh, please take it!" she begged. "I want to see Emily while they aretowing the machine out. It's a lucky thing it happened just here, andthat you are kind enough to let us have your horse."
"Well what do you think of that!" exclaimed Ted, in a voice loud enoughfor those near him to hear. "Of all the clever tricks!"
"Oh, depend on Doro for cleverness," replied Nat, proudly. "You just doyour part, Ted, and make this rope fast."
Mabel stood looking on in speechless surprise. She saw now that Dorothyand old Sanders were entering the cottage. Dorothy
was first, and theman, with the Christmas tree, followed close behind her. The boys withPeter were busy with rope, horse and auto. Soon they had the necessaryconnection made, with Nat at the wheel, and all were tugging with mightand main to get the _Fire Bird_ free from the ditch.
If there is anything more nerve-racking than such an attempt, it must besome other attempt at a balking auto. Would it move, or would it sinkdeeper into the mud that lay hidden beneath the newly-fallen snow?
Nat turned the wheel first this way and then that. Ted had his weightpressed against the rear wheel of the machine, while Peter coaxed and ledthe horse. Suddenly the old horse, as if desperate, gave a jerk andpulled the _Fire Bird_ clear out into the roadway!
"Hurrah!" yelled Ted, bounding through the snow.
"Great stunt!" corroborated Nat. "Peter, you are all right!"
"Peter did some," replied the old man, freeing the horse from the ropethat held him to the machine; "but that young lady--if she hadn't keptSanders busy--we might all have been arrested for horse-stealing."
"She knew his weak spot," agreed Nat. "That little Emily seems to be theone weak and soft spot in old Sanders's life."
"I had better go up and see what's going on," suggested Mabel, aseverything seemed about in readiness to start off again.
"Good idea," assented her brother, "he might be eating her up."
Mabel rather timidly found her way up to the cottage. It was alreadydusk, but the light of a dim lamp showed her the way, as it gleamedthrough a gloomy window, onto the glistening snow.
"Won't it be perfectly lovely, Emily?" she heard Doro saying, as she sawher with her arms about a little red-haired girl, both sitting on a sofa,while Sanders attempted to prop the Christmas tree up in a corner,bracing it with a wooden chair. Mabel raised the latch without goingthrough the formality of knocking. As she entered the room, all butDorothy started in surprise.
"This is my friend," Dorothy hurried to explain, "it is she who is goingto help me trim the tree up for Emily. We will come to-morrow," and sherose to leave. "Mabel will fetch the doll, Emily. That is, of course, ifwe can persuade Santa Claus to give us just the kind we want," she triedto correct.
"A baby dolly--with long hair and a white dress," Emily ordered. "And Iwant eyelashes."
"Perticular," said Sanders, with a proud look at the child, who, as theboys had said, made up the one tender spot in his life. "If her ma's coldis better, she is coming up herself."
"Is she sick?" Emily ventured, glad to be able to say somethingintelligent.
"Yep," replied the old man, sadly. "She's been sick a long time. Ifetched Emily over this afternoon in the sleigh."
"Well, we are so much obliged," remarked Dorothy. "And good-bye, Emily.You'll have everything ready for Santa Claus; won't you?"
"I've got my parlor set from last year," said the child, "and mamma saysSanta Claus always likes to see the other things, to know we took care ofthem."
"Thanks, Sanders," called Peter, at the window. "The horse is as good asever. Don't sell him without giving me a chance. I could do something ifI owned a mare like that."
"All right," called back Sanders, whose pride was being played upon. "Hemight be worse. Did you put her in the far stall?"
"Just where I got her. And I tell you, Sanders, even a horse can play atChristmas. Only for him I never could get those trees to town."
"And only for Peter," put in Dorothy, "we could not have gotten Emily hertree. Now that's how a horse can turn Santa Claus. Good-bye, Mr. Sanders,you may expect us before Christmas."
And then the two girls followed the chuckling Peter back to the _FireBird_, where the boys impatiently awaited them, to complete the delayedparty bound for home, and for the Christmas holidays.