Meg of Mystery Mountain

  CHAPTER XIV. FRETFUL JANE

  Luckily Dan had succeeded in changing his sister's thought before theyreturned to the cabin, and he vowed inwardly that he would never againmention Meg Heger, since Jane had taken such a strange dislike to her.How one could dislike a girl one had barely seen was beyond hiscomprehension, but girls were hard to understand, all except Julie. Shewas just a wholesome, helpful little maid with a pug-nose that was alwaysfreckled.

  "Now for the surprise!" Dan said as they neared the cabin.

  "Well, I certainly hope it is something to eat," Jane began, with littleinterest, but when the two children threw open the front door and she sawthe table in the living-room close to the wide window with four placesset, she delighted the little workers by announcing that it was the bestsight she had beheld that day. Then, when Jane and Dan were seated, Julieand Gerry skipped to the kitchen and returned with as tempting a lunch aseven Jane could have wished for. There was creamed tuna on toast and jamand a heaping plate of lettuce sandwiches and two of the Rockyford melonsfor which Colorado is famous. Then there was for each a glass of creamymilk.

  "Great!" Dan exclaimed. "I didn't know we were going to be able to getmilk."

  Julie nodded eagerly. "It comes from the Packard ranch, fresh to the innevery day, and Mrs. Bently said she would send us two quarts every timethe stage comes up our road, which usually is three times a week. We cankeep it cool as anything in the creek. Mrs. Bently told us how."

  "After lunch can we get out the guns, Dan?" Gerald asked when he hadhungrily gulped down a sandwich.

  "Why, I guess so," the older boy laughed good naturedly. "You aren'texpecting a bear to find out this soon, are you, that we have somesupplies that he might wish to devour?"

  Julie looked anxiously toward the open door of the cabin. "Don't youthink maybe we'd better keep that door closed when we're eating?" sheasked anxiously. "You know Dad said he and mother were sitting right herewhere we are, maybe, one morning at breakfast, when mother looked up andthere was an old grizzly standing in the open door. He had been around tothe kitchen and had eaten up all the supplies he could find and he washunting for more."

  Gerald chimed in with: "It was lucky Dad kept his big gun always standingin the corner. I suppose it was right there, near you, Dan, so he couldjust grab it and shoot."

  The children were watching the door as though they expected at any minutethat another grizzly might appear. Dan laughed at them. "We might as wellhave stayed at home if we are going to stay in the cabin and keep thedoor closed," he told them. "I'm going to suggest that we put the tableon that nice porch just outside of the kitchen. That will make an idealoutdoor dining-room, with a big pine tree back of it to shelter us fromthe sun. It will be handy to the kitchen, and, what is more, a bearsimply could not scale up that wall beyond the ledge." Then, veryseriously, the older brother addressed the younger two. "Julie, I don'twant you or Gerald to go close to that cliff. It's too dangerous."

  Honest Gerald blurted in with, "We did go once, Dan. We squirmed out onour tummies till we could look 'way down, and I tell you it made usdizzy. We won't ever want to do it again."

  After lunch the children announced that they would do up the dishes ifDan would give them a lesson in shooting the big gun when they werethrough. "Well," the older boy smilingly conceded, "I'll try to teach youto handle the smaller gun; yes, both of you," he assured Julie, who wasmaking an effort to attract his attention by motions behind Jane's back."You really ought to both know how to use it. You might need to know howsome time to protect yourselves."

  "What shall you do, Jane, while we are learning to shoot?" Julie inquiredwhen the kitchen had again been tidied and the children were ready fortheir very first lesson with the small gun.

  "Maybe Jane'll want to learn too," Gerald suggested, but the older girldeclared that she simply could not and would not touch one of thedreadful things.

  "Won't you come with us and watch the fun?" Dan lingered, when the twoactive youngsters had bounded out of the cabin. But the girl shook herhead. "It wouldn't be fun to me," she said fretfully. "I'd much rather beleft all alone. I want to write a long letter to Merry. She will be eagerto hear from me, just as I am from her." There was a self-pitying tone inthe girl's voice and a slight quiver to her lips. She turned hastily intoher room and closed the door. She did not want Dan to see the tears. Thelad went out on the wide front porch and stood for a moment with foldedarms, his gray eyes gazing across the sun-shimmered valley, but he wasnot conscious of the grandeur of the scene. He was regretting, deeplyregretting that he had permitted his sister to come to a country sodistasteful to her. He well knew that she had shut herself in her room tosob out her grief and disappointment and then perhaps to write it all tothis friend of whom she so often spoke and whom she seemed to love sodearly.

  Once Dan turned toward the door as though to return to the cabin. Hisimpulse was to go to Jane and tell her not to unpack. The stage would bepassing there again on the following day, and, if she wished she could goback to the East. In fact, the lad almost believed that if Jane went, itmight hasten his recovery. Her evident unhappiness was causing him toworry, and that was most detrimental. With a deep sigh of resignation, hedid turn toward the open door, bent on carrying out his resolve, but acry of alarm from Julie sent him running around the cabin and up towardthe brook.

  He met the children, white-faced, big-eyed, hurrying toward him, Geraldcarrying the small gun.

  "What is it, Gerry? What have you seen to frighten you?" He looked aboutas he spoke, but saw nothing but the jagged mountain side, the rushing,whirling brook and the peaceful old pines.

  But it was quite evident by the expressions of the two children that theyat least thought they had seen something of a dangerous nature. Geraldpointed toward a clump of low-growing pines on the other side of thebrook as he said in a tense, half-whispered voice: "Whatever 'twas, Dan,it's hiding in there." Then he explained: "Julie and I were crossing thewater on those big stones when, snap, something went. I whirled to look.Honest, I expected to see a grizzly, but there wasn't anything at all insight. Julie and I stood just as still as we could; we didn't even make asound! Then we saw those bushy trees moving, though there wasn't a bit ofwind, so we know whatever 'tis, it's in there."

  While the small boy had been talking, Dan had been loading the gun."You'd better let me go alone," he said to the children, but theirdisappointed expressions caused him to add: "At least let me go ahead,and if I think best for you to come, I'll beckon."

  Dan crossed the brook on the big stones and went toward the clump ofsmall stubby pines. Then he stood still, watching the dense low treesintently. His heart beat rapidly, not from fear, for he almost hoped thatit might be a grizzly, and yet, would it not be unwise to shoot at itwith a small gun? It might infuriate a huge beast, and so endanger all oftheir lives. But, although he waited, watching and listening for manyminutes, no sound was heard. He began to believe that the children hadimagined the stealthy noise they thought they had heard, for, after all,they had not really seen anything, and so he beckoned them to join him.They leaped across the brook and were quickly at his side.

  "Wasn't it a bear, or a wildcat, or anything?" Gerald asked eagerly. Danshook his head, as he replied with a laugh: "Don't be too disappointed,youngsters, even if you don't see everything on the first day. This timeit was just a false alarm."

  But Dan was mistaken, for, from a safe hiding place, the old Indian,Slinking Coyote, was watching their every move.

  "Why don't we shoot into that pine brush anyway?" Julie suggested. "Wemight scare out whatever is hiding there." But Dan didn't wish to dothis. He felt that it would be safer to have the larger gun with himbefore he started beating up hidden wild creatures of any kind.

  "Come along, youngsters, let's get back on the home-side of our brook andset up a target," the older boy suggested as he crossed the brook,followed by the children.

  In their door-yard Dan paused and looke
d about meditatively. "I want toset up a target near enough to be within call, and yet far enough away tokeep from disturbing Jane too much with our racket."

  "Oh, I know!" Gerald cried. "Over there, just above where the road bends!That'll be a dandee place. Won't it, Dan?"

  The older boy smiled his agreement. "I do believe it will do as well asany place." They went toward the spot indicated and Dan continued:"Suppose we choose a cone on that lowest pine branch. If a bullet hitsit, the cone will surely fall. Now, Gerald, just to be polite, shall welet Julie try first?"

  The boy nodded, his eyes shining with eagerness. "Sure! How many tries dowe each get? Three?"

  "Any number you wish is all right with me." Then Dan placed the small gunin the position that Julie was to hold it, showed her how to look alongthe barrel, and how to take aim.

  "Hold it steady! One, two, three, go!" But no report was heard.

  "What's the matter, chick-a-biddie?" Dan was surprised to see how whitethe small girl's face had become, and to note that her arm was shaking sothat she could hardly hold the gun. "I'm scared," she confessed. "I don'tknow why, but I am, Dan." She dropped the gun and ran to his arms. Thenshe smiled up through her tears. "I guess I'm afraid to hear the noise."

  "Pooh, pooh! That's just like a girl," said Gerry almost scornfully."Anyhow, you don't need to learn to shoot. Dan or I'll always be aroundto protect you'n Jane. Can I have a try now, Dan? Can I?"

  The older lad turned to the small girl. "Suppose we let Gerald practicetoday, and later, when you feel that you would like to try again, you maydo so?"

  This plan seemed quite satisfactory to Julie, who seated herself upon arock which overhung the curving mountain road, and was about twenty feetabove it. Gerald, instead of dreading the noise that the small gun wouldmake, was eager to hear it, and after repeated trials, he managed todislodge the brown cone. "Hurray! I did it! Bully for me! I'm a marksmannow! Isn't that what I am, Dan? Now I'll pick out another one, and I betyou I'll hit it first shot."

  Julie, having wearied of the constant report of the small gun, hadwandered away in search of wild flowers. The boys saw her running towardthem, beckoning excitedly. "Dan," she said in a low voice, "Come on overhere and look down at the road. The queerest man seems to be hiding. Iwas so far up above him, he didn't see me. He's hiding back of some rockswatching the road. Who do you suppose he is?"

  Dan looked troubled. He thought at once that it might be the old UteIndian who had not gone with his tribe when they went in search of betterhunting grounds, nor was he wrong. Very quietly, the three went to therim of their ledge. About twenty feet below they beheld a most uncouthcreature crouching behind a big boulder. Evidently he was intentlywatching the road as it wound up from Redfords. His cap was of black furwith a bushy tail hanging down at the back. They could not see his faceas they were above him. Julie clung fearfully to her brother. "Oh, Dan,"she whispered. "What do you suppose he's watching for?"

  Before Dan could decide what he ought to do, a pounding of horse's feetwas heard just below the bend, and a wiry brown pony leaped into view.The old Indian sprang from his hiding place so suddenly that the smallhorse reared, but the rider, her dark face flushed, her wonderful eyesflashing angrily, cried: "What did I tell you last time you stopped me?Didn't I say I'd shoot? You know I pack a gun, and I _never_ miss. Ican't give you any more money. I'm saving all I can to go away to school.I've told you that before, and if you _are_ my father, as you're alwaystelling me that you are, you'd ought to be glad if I'm going to have achance."

  The old Indian whined something, which Dan could not hear. Impatientlythe girl took from her pocket a coin and tossed it to him. "I don'tbelieve you're hungry. You don't need to be, with squirrels as thick asthey are. You'll spend all I give you on fire-water, if you can get it."

  Already the old Indian, evidently satisfied with what he had received,had started shambling down the road in the direction of the town, but thegirl turned in the saddle to call after him: "Mind you, that's the lasttime I'll give you money. I don't believe that you are my father, andneither does Mammy Heger."

  She might have been talking to the wind for all the attention the oldIndian paid. His pace had increased as the descent became steeper.

  Dan felt guilty because he had overheard a conversation not meant for hisears, and he drew the children away toward the cabin, and so heard,rather than saw, the girl's rapid flight up the road.

  The chivalry of the ages stirred in his heart. "It's a wicked shame thatshe hasn't a brother to protect her," he thought. "A young girl ought notto be tormented by such a coward. Slinking Coyote, that's what he is.Blackmailing, it would be called in civilized countries." Dan'sindignation increased as he recalled how wonderfully beautiful the girlhad looked when her dark eyes had flashed in anger. "I'd be far moreinclined to think her a daughter of noble birth."

  His thoughts were interrupted by Julie, who, believing that they were asafe distance from the road, asked anxiously, "Who was the awful lookingman, Dan? Will he hurt us?"

  The same question had presented itself to Dan, but he made himself saylightly, "Oh, no! That old Indian isn't at all interested in us. Heevidently is just a beggar. He was asking the mountain girl for money andshe gave it to him." Then, as an afterthought, he cautioned, "Don'tmention having seen him to Jane, will you, children?"

  Willingly they agreed. They were indeed pleased to share a secret withtheir big brother.

  Julie chattered on, "Dan, I'd like to go up and see that nice girl. Doyou think she'd let me ride on her pony? May Gerald and I go up theretomorrow?"

  Dan forced himself to smile. He did not want either of his companions toknow that he was troubled. "Yes, we'll go up there tomorrow. I would liketo meet the trapper who is, I believe, the father of that littlehorsewoman." But even as he spoke Dan recalled that the slinking Indianhad insisted that he was her father, and that the girl did not believeit.

  When he reached the cabin, Jane was still shut in her room. The childrendeclared that they were hungry as wolves and that they would get theevening meal, and so the older lad seated himself on the edge of thefront porch to think over all that he had seen and heard, and decide whatit would be best for him to do. Perhaps, after all, he had been unwise tobring either of the girls to a place so wild. Perhaps he ought to sendthem both home. He and Gerald could protect themselves if there were tobe trouble of any kind. He decided that the very next day, as soon as themountain girl had gone to the Redfords school, he would climb up the roadto the cabin, which he believed was just about a mile above them. Then hecould discover from the trapper if any real danger might lurk on themountain for the two Eastern girls.