CHAPTER XVI
BUTTERNUT LODGE
One afternoon, as Nathalie was preparing to take the children on a trampto Butternut Lodge, an old farmhouse on the opposite side of GarnetMountain, that had been fitted up for picnic parties by the proprietorof a near-by hotel, her mother called her.
"Nathalie," she said, as the girl appeared in answer to her call, "Iwish you would run over to the little red house and see Mrs. Carney. Samtells me she is ill, and that his wife, who generally looks after her,is visiting some relatives. It would be only neighborly if you wouldtake her some fruit custard; there is plenty in the ice-box, left overfrom dinner."
"But mumsie," pleaded the girl in an annoyed tone, "I can't go thisafternoon, for I have promised to take the children to Butternut Lodge.And then," she added rebelliously, "I don't want to go to see thathorrid old woman. Why, I thought that you had decided not to haveanything to do with her, after the disagreeable way she acted!"
"Yes, that is so, daughter," replied Mrs. Page with a slight smile,"but, like a good Christian, I changed my mind, a privilege I reserve tomyself when occasion warrants. When I heard from Sam that the poorcreature was alone in the world, I made up my mind to play the part ofthe good Samaritan. We can well overlook the oddities of the aged, andit must be trying to lie there all alone, with no one to give you ahelping hand or a comforting word."
Nathalie was not conquered, as she had a stubborn will, and she had beenrudely repulsed so many times that she felt her duty did not require herto accept any more humiliations. She was about to argue the case, whensuddenly the motto that she had vowed to make her own that summer,flashed before her mental vision with a vivid distinctness.
Making no reply, she slowly walked out on the lawn, where the childrenstood waiting for her. After explaining her reasons for giving up theafternoon hike, she turned to hurry into the house, determined to getthe disagreeable task over as soon as possible. Halfway up the steps shepaused, her eyes lit up with an amused thought evidently, for, with ahalf-laugh, she turned and hurried back to the group standing withwoe-begone faces, trying to think what they could do to ease theirdisappointment. A moment later they were crowding about her, listeningeagerly as she talked, their faces keen and bright, as if with theinspiration of a novel appeal.
Some time later, Nathalie, with a queer little smile dimpling thecorners of her mouth, knocked softly on the screen-door leading into thelittle red house. As she heard a faint "Come in!" in answer, she gentlypushed the door open and entered. In her hands she carried a bowl, whilebehind her, all cautiously tiptoeing, as if afraid of making theslightest sound, came four small figures, each one carefully holdingsomething for the invalid, whom they found lying on a couch in the frontroom.
"Good afternoon, Mrs. Carney," said Nathalie, and then, in a distressedtone, "Oh, I'm afraid we have disturbed you, but Sam said you were notfeeling well, and mother sent me over with the boys, to see if we couldnot help you in some way. We have brought you something, too, that maypossibly make you feel better."
The girl was in the throes of despair, as no reply came from therecumbent figure, only the slow-moving of a big fan. O dear! shethought, perhaps her little ruse to relieve the awkwardness of a mostcurious situation was not going to succeed.
But at this instant, Sheila came forward. Her sympathies had beenaroused on learning about the curious old lady, and on finding thatthere was nothing for her to carry to the sick one, she had gone out tothe roadside and gathered a big bunch of wild flowers, to her a panaceafor every ill.
These she now thrust towards the figure on the couch, crying, in hersweet childish treble, "I'm sorry, lady, you're sick, but here's someflowers; I picked 'em for you." The child spoke in a half-frightenedtone, somewhat at a loss to understand the silence beneath thehandkerchief-covered face.
Suddenly the handkerchief was withdrawn, and the old lady sat boltupright, with a startled exclamation, gazing in amazed wonder at thefour small figures, with their pleading eyes and offerings of sympathy,standing in a row before her.
"Bless me!" she cried, a half smile dawning in her sharp eyes. "Wheredid these children come from?"
"Oh--why--they're my Liberty boys," answered Nathalie quickly, with asudden flash of relief that at last the old lady's silence was broken.
"Your Liberty boys?" she questioned with some bewilderment, as shepeered keenly at the slim young figure. "But you're too young to havethese boys."
"Oh, but they're not mine! I'm not married." exclaimed Nathalie, a merrynote in her voice. "Why, I've just adopted them for the summer, so Icall them my boys. I suppose they're what you call Fresh-Air-Funders;that is, they live on the East Side in New York, and I'm afraid the poorthings wouldn't have had any outing if I hadn't brought them up here toget a breath of this mountain air, and--"
But at this point, Jean, scrupulously faithful to Nathalie's drilling,took a step forward, and, holding out his plate of fruit, in his frightforgetting the little English he knew, cried, "Voici du fruit!"
The woman peered at the boy, and then, with a slight cry as she saw thelittle empty sleeve, drew him to her, as she took the plate of fruitcarefully from his hand. "Why, you poor lad!" she exclaimed in suddentenderness. "So you have some fruit for me. Is he a refugee?" shequeried softly, turning inquiringly towards Nathalie.
As the girl nodded dumbly, Tony pushed forward his offering, a covereddish of milk toast. Quickly removing the cover, he smacked his lips withgusto, while his velvety eyes glanced in a smile, as if to say, "Here'ssomething nice for you, too!"
By this time Nathalie saw that the atmosphere had cleared, and after sheand Danny had proffered their gifts,--some chicken soup andcustard,--with the help of the boys she drew a table to the side of thecouch. Deftly unfolding a napkin for a covering, she spread out thetoothsome dainties before her hostess, while Sheila, in childishprattle, entertained her new friend by telling about the fairies, whomshe insisted lived in the flowers.
As the old lady partook of the edibles that had been prepared for her,the children, won by her seeming interest, with childish confidence toldher about their lives in the city, how they liked the beautifulmountains, all about their many battles down at the old stone ledge, andhow they were all learning to be Sons of Liberty. This drew Nathalieinto the conversation, and she was soon animatedly telling how shehappened to become a Liberty Girl, and how she was not only trying tocarry out her plans in regard to liberty up there in the mountains, butwas anxious to help the children know what it meant to become goodAmericans, and to understand why our nation had sent soldiers across thesea to fight the Hun.
Tony needed but one invitation, and the violin was brought forth fromunder his arm,--he always carried it,--and presently he was playing somelittle Italian airs, after which Jean sang Belgium's national anthem, atMrs. Carney's request, and Danny recited a war-poem that Janet hadtaught him. Even Sheila contributed her quota to the impromptuentertainment and recited "Betsy's Battle Flag," as she, too, was apupil of Janet's, that young lady having become so interested in thechildren that she had not only helped her friend to teach them to sing,but had taught them to recite.
But now it was time to go, as Nathalie did not want to weary Mrs.Carney, although, to the girl's surprise, that lady insisted that hersick headache had disappeared, cured, she laughingly confessed, by theyoung visitors, who had entertained her so charmingly.
With the promise to call again with her charges, Nathalie hurried themaway, happily content that she had followed her mother's suggestion andtried to be helpful and kind to her seemingly odd little neighbor. "Itpays to be pleasant with people," she remarked sagely, as she relatedthe results of the visit. "For even if you don't like them it gives youa pleasant feeling to think that you have done 'your bit' in keeping thechain of brotherly love well oiled."
Mrs. Page sat knitting on the veranda the following morning whenNathalie came hurrying out of the house with an angry light in her eyes."Oh, mother, wh
at do you think?" she exclaimed irritably. "Cynthia hasset the children all looking for that _mystery thing_. Did you ever hearof anything so absurd? And they have gone wild about it, and are runningaround the attic and the upper floors, pulling things about in a mostdisorderly fashion. Oh, I do think she is the limit!"
Mrs. Page looked at Nathalie in silence for a moment, and then said,with some amusement in her eyes, "It is absurd, but don't get wrought upabout it. Cynthia hasn't stopped to think. She is so anxious to find itthat it has become an obsession with her. But it won't do to let thechildren get mixed up in anything of that kind." Her face sobered, andfor a space the only sound was the clicking of her knitting-needles,while Nathalie, with a frown on her face, pondered how she was going toundo the mischief that Cynthia had wrought, keenly realizing what wouldfollow if the children were not stopped in looking for something thatshe knew they would never find.
"Go and tell the children to come here, Nathalie," said her mother, "andwe'll have a little talk." The girl, with a brighter face, complied, asshe always felt greatly relieved, when anything went wrong with herboys, to have her mother straighten things out.
In a moment they were on the veranda, looking very much bedraggled anddust-begrimed, as, with faces eagerly alert, they told what they hadbeen doing, after a little adroit questioning on the part of Mrs. Page.It did not take the good lady long to make it clear to themystery-seekers that this _valuable thing_ that they had been searchingfor was something that only concerned Nathalie and her cousins.
She now made it clear to them that the searching was undoubtedly a whimon the part of the former inmate of Seven Pillars, and that the findingof it simply meant a reward to the one of the three girls who had provedthe most industrious in looking for it. She ended by saying that itwould not likely be of any great value, adding, "And, children, it wouldnot be yours even if you found it."
"Oh, but we're going to give it to Miss Natty!" came a chorus ofdetermined little voices. "And Miss Cynthia said it was something awfulrich," added Sheila, "and I just guess that it must be a great bigjewel, or a pot of gold." "Sure, and we want Miss Natty to have it,"ended Danny, with big, disappointed eyes.
This was not the first time that Mrs. Page had had to do away with aseeming mystery connected with Mrs. Renwick's peculiar instructions. Forthe mystery-room had proved a source of morbid curiosity to thechildren, as they questioned as to what was behind that great, dark redcurtain. They would scurry by the door with bated breath and big,excited eyes, in whose depths lurked a latent fear of some unknownterror, until Mrs. Page had ordered the curtain down, declaring that thedoor simply closed, and barred, would end the mystery.
Fortunately the children's attention was now turned to other matters,but Nathalie, somehow, could not put the incident from her mind. She hada vague, conscience-stricken feeling that _she_ would never gain thereward for being industrious, for although she had not failed to make anentry in her diary, she _had failed_ to search as diligently as sheshould have done. Whereupon, with a silent vow that she would put asidean hour every day for this disagreeable task, she hastened upstairs toput her plan in execution.
Nathalie was lying in the hammock in the moonlight a few evenings later,half-drowsing. She was more than usually tired, for they had spent theday at Butternut Lodge. It had been an all-day hike, setting forth inthe forenoon with a climb up old Garnet, starting in at the loggate-posts opposite Peckett's flower-garden.
Ascending a grassy incline studded with rocks, where mountain-sheep anda gray donkey meandered, nibbling the coarse grass, they entered thecool damp of the forest gloom, where hundreds of trees confronted them.Age-ringed and gnarled, their limbs twisted in eerie contortion togrotesque shapes, they stood in the dim cathedral light bristling withshadows, a battalion of ghoulish-looking sentinels, guarding therock-crowned heights.
But on they climbed, up the pine-needled path, stepping fromlichen-covered rocks to gnarled tree-roots, or clambering deftly overblackened, flame-licked tree-trunks, that barred their way like yawningchasms. Every now and then they would stop to gather some tiny wood posypeeping coquettishly from the crevice of a broken crag, or acrimson-dyed leaf on a mossy patch, or to brush aside the black loam toburrow among dead leaves for feathery ferns, or one of the tinyumbrellas, as Sheila called the many-colored toadstools that grew by thepath. But when the little maid spied a _fleur des fees_, adaintily-colored anemone, her delight was beyond bounds.
Sometimes they would pause to listen to the mountain-wind as it swayedthe tops of long rows of trees, that, with the daring recklessness ofnew life, stretched their bare-limbed trunks upward to catch the goldensunlight on their glossy leaves. But the sweetest melody, perhaps, wasthe wind that swept in solemn-toned harmony through the twisted boughsof the old mountain-guard.
But the wind was not the only musician that sunny morning up there inthe stilled hush of the green wood, for sometimes it was the soft noteof a belated bird's warble, coming with a haunting sweetness from thedim recesses of the shadowed gloom, or the hammer of a woodpecker as heplied his tool of trade.
But feathered songsters and musical wind were forgotten when thechildren struck the Red Trail,--splashes of red paint smeared atintervals on the bark of the trees to keep travelers in the path. Theboys, as they scurried ahead, soon discovered a Yellow Trail, and then aBlue Trail, sign-posts to the lone woodchopper, perhaps, as he comesdown the woodland path in the deep snows of winter. The Yellow Trail,they discovered, led down the mountain, coming out on the road nearLovers' Lane, the wooded path opposite Seven Pillars. Nathalie nowshowed them how to blaze a trail that belonged exclusively to the GirlPioneers, and their interest became tense with excitement as she becametheir leader and deftly bent the twigs in the shapes that meant so manythings to the Pioneers.
A little log cabin nestling beneath a clump of pine trees, on the edgeof a slope, just below Agassiz's Rock, tempted the children to wanderfrom the beaten path. But they soon returned, and, in wide-eyed wonder,declared that they had seen a pair of shoes by the door. Sheila wasquite insistent that some fairy godmother lived there, whereupon she wasrudely told by the boys that fairies never wore shoes. The children,however, were loth to leave the spot, curiously wondering as to wholived in the log hut.
But as no one was to be seen, either within or without the cabin, theyfollowed Nathalie, and were soon standing on a jagged rock on Garnet'stop, in a wonderland of views that made them feel that they were indeedbirds of the air, skimming swiftly through a dim, mystical atmosphere.With hushed breath and wide-seeing eyes they gazed down upon low-lyingvalleys,--dabs of green between craggy rocks and lofty steeps, gemmedwith silver water, yellow corn-fields, and brown pasture-land. And aboveall, in picturesque grandeur, towered a rim of battlemented crests andridges, silhouetted against curtains of crystalline blue, where sweepsof white cloud drifted in gossamer veils.
On the wide green slopes surrounding the farmhouse the children reveledin a summer-land of daisies and buttercups, that jeweled the softlycreeping grass. While Sheila wove a wreath of mountain posies Nathalietold how, some years before, a bag of gold had been found in a log ofwood in the old farmhouse. This added a new glory to the scene, andthere were many surmises in regard to this find, while the Girl Pioneerplied her craft and showed them how to make leaf-impressions in theirlittle note-books, as each one had gathered a leaf from many trees ontheir way up the mountain.
After Danny had made a camp-fire and they had had a hike lunch offrankfurters, roasted potatoes, and many toothsome edibles found intheir lunchboxes, they hurried back to the old farmhouse, and while thechildren peeped into the old-fashioned brick ovens in search of anotherpot of gold, Janet played on the yellow-keyed piano. Then came a strollto a weather-beaten barn, where an old coach was stored, which had oncebeen the mountain's only method of conveyance, some decades ago, and onwhich was the name "Goodnow House." Of course they all had to mount therickety steps and crawl inside on the wide leather-cushioned seat, largeenough to hold almost a dozen childre
n. Danny and Tony, however, soonclambered out and mounted still higher, up to the two-step-driver'sseat, where they pretended they were driving a tally-ho, with Sheila andJean sitting back, within the railed top, as outside passengers, whileNathalie and Janet, on the wide old seat within, acted the part oftourists traveling to the top of Mount Washington.
Wearying of these childish sports, Nathalie and Janet hied themselvesback to the farmhouse, where, after resisting the inclination to drowse,induced by the lulling hum of the bees as they darted busily about inthe sweet-scented, sunny air, they sat down on the little porch and tookout their knitting.
Suddenly the deep silence that they had drifted into, lured to thoughtby their active fingers, was broken by loud squeals, mingled with boyishshouts of laughter. And then a thrill came, as Nathalie suddenlyperceived the old stage-coach, drawn by Danny and Tony as horses, whileJean, as the driver, was exultantly happy, perched up in the driver'shigh seat. Sheila, meanwhile, bewreathed and betwined with wild posies,sat within the coach, posing as a beautiful white princess who had beencaptured by bandits.
Nathalie's heart swung in wild leaps as she saw the one-armed boy'sperilous position, as the ramshackle, clumsy coach rocked like a cradle,and realized what it would mean if anything happened to it, as it was amost valuable relic to the proprietor of the hotel.
With a sudden cry she jumped to her feet, and a moment later wasexcitedly explaining to the would-be bandits the wrong they hadcommitted. In disappointed silence Jean was helped down from the top ofthe coach, and Sheila, in whimpering protest, was hauled out. Then, amida profound and tragic stillness to the children, they managed, with thehelp of the two girls, to get the stage back in the barn. Whereupon,Nathalie closed the door and marched her charges off in anotherdirection, while pondering how to amuse them, for she had learned thattheir active brains and nimble fingers must be kept busy or mischiefwould brew.
A low cry from Sheila roused her, to see a few feet away, on theoutskirts of the wood, a baby deer, gazing at them with mild eyes ofwonder. But the cries from the boys caused it to leap wildly into thewoods.
Such had been the events of the day.
Nathalie stirred uneasily, as a ray of moonshine fell athwart her face.She rubbed her eyes, and then sat up in the hammock, staring about in abewildered, sleepy fashion. "Why, I must have been dreaming," shethought, vaguely conscious that she had been living over again the longday with its many adventures.
"But it must be late; the children should be in bed." She could hearDanny and Tony down on the lawn, their voices in loud and excitedargument. O dear! she hoped they were not going to fight again, and thenshe gave a hurried "Tru-al-lee!"
At the familiar call the boys came hurrying across the lawn, when, toher surprise, she saw that Sheila was not with them. As she questionedthem sharply as to her whereabouts, they insisted that they supposedthat she was with her. The girl, somewhat alarmed, for the little ladywas inclined to wander off by herself, instituted a search. The barn,grounds, Lovers' Lane opposite, and even the little red house werepeeped into, but all to no purpose.
As Sam was in Littleton for the night, the boys were dispatched to SugarHill village to make inquiries, while she and Janet, who had justreturned from a stroll in the moonlight with Mrs. Page, started to lookon the road leading to "The Echoes." Some time later the searchersreturned to Seven Pillars to report that no clews as to the child'swhereabouts had been discovered. Suddenly distracted,conscience-stricken, Nathalie gave a low wail.
"Oh, I do believe she has gone to the top of Garnet Mountain!" The girlhad suddenly remembered that for several days Sheila had been tellinghow one of the boarders at Peckett's--a lady as white as snow--had toldher that every moonlight night at twelve o'clock the fairies came out ofthe woods and danced on the top of Garnet. She had even suggested thatif Sheila could see them, she might be rewarded by receiving some of thebeautiful garnets that were hidden in the rocks, and which only thefairies knew where to find.
There was a grim silence at Nathalie's cry, as each one stared at theother with a white, dismayed face, while Nathalie, with clasped hands,nervously swayed herself to and fro.
A sudden scuffle of small feet caused them all to swing about, to seeDanny hurrying towards the door.
"Oh, where are you going, Dan?" cried Nathalie in a choked voice,staring at the lad with bewildered eyes.
"I'm going to find my sister--Sheila--" came in a strangled sob from theboy.
"But don't go alone. I will go with you," exclaimed Nathalie, quicklyspringing to his side, as he stood with his face buried in his elbow,while his slim body heaved convulsively.
It was soon decided that Janet and Dan would climb the mountain-trailthat came out near Lovers' Lane, Mrs. Page and Tony would hurry in thedirection of Hildreth's farm, while Nathalie and Jean would follow theRed Trail of the mountain, opposite Peckett's hotel.
Twenty minutes later Nathalie and Jean, breathless from their hurriedclimb, paused for a moment by a big tree that stood ghoulishly somber bythe path. As the girl, still panting, leaned against it, a ray ofmoonlight filtering through the canopy of leaves overhead showed that itwas the Seat Tree, as they had named it on their climb that morning, onaccount of its singular formation.
By some freak of nature, from its main trunk, a short space from theground, another trunk had sprung, giving it the appearance of two treesin one, and in this hollow some kindly-intentioned person had placed aseat. As the girl perceived the seat she sat down, and feeling Jean'ssoft breath come puffing against her cheek, drew the tired boy down onher lap. Tige, the yellow terrier, crouched at their feet, his redtongue hanging out of his mouth like a signal-light in the weirddarkness.
Fortunately the darkness of the ascent had been lightened at intervalsby the moon, which was at its full, so that the girl had not beencompelled to use her flashlight except in the deeply shadowed places.When they had begun to climb, Jean had whistled, his customary way ofcalling Sheila, while Nathalie had not only called the child by name,but had given her Pioneer call of "_Tru-al-lee_."
But these calls had only re-echoed through the cathedral arches withsuch a dismal, dirge-like sound that they had desisted. Feeling surethat the child would keep near the path, Nathalie had kept her eyes busypeering on all sides of her, thinking that she could easily discernSheila's white dress if she was anywhere near.
All at once a low cry escaped the girl, as, with a convulsive clutch ofJean's slight body, she bent forward, and peered through the eerietree-shadows to a dim, flickering light that shone some distance beyondin the deep recesses of the forest. As the boy's eyes followed herglance, in a tense whisper he cried, "Oh, Mademoiselle! see, there is aman digging in the ground!"