Meg of Mystery Mountain

  CHAPTER XXV. JANE'S RESOLVE

  The lunch was prepared, the potatoes had cooked quite to pieces, butstill the children did not return. Jane was becoming terrorized. She wasstartled when there came a sharp rapping at the front door. Running intothe living-room, her hand pressed to her heart, she saw standing there atall, uncouth-looking mountaineer. She believed, and rightly, that it wasthe trapper who lived near them.

  He began at once: "Dan Abbott came to our place nigh an hour ago sayin'the young 'uns was lost. Meg and me wasn't to home, but my woman saidshe'd tell whichever of us come fust and we'd help hunt. Ben't they backyet?"

  Jane shook her head. "Oh, Mr. Heger," she cried, "what do you suppose hashappened to them? Do you suppose they have been harmed?"

  It was unusual for the kind face of the man to look hard, but at thatmoment it did so. His voice was stern. "Dan Abbott said 'twas you as letthem young 'uns go to hunt for him, not knowin' whar he was. Wall, Miss,I'll tell ye this: If 'tis they ever come back alive, yo'd better keepthem young 'uns a little closer to home. Thar's no harm if they stay onthe road. Nothin's likely to happen thar, but 'way off in the wildernessplaces, wall, thar's no tellin' what may have happened. I'll bid you goodday."

  Here was still another of her fellow men who scorned her. Of course, Danhad not told him the whole truth, that she had said she hoped she neveragain would see the children. Oh, why had she said it? She knew, even inher anger, that she had not meant it.

  She sank down on the porch and buried her face in her hands. Would thistorture never end? The odor of something burning reached her and, leapingto her feet, she ran to the kitchen and pushed back the kettle ofpotatoes that had started to scorch. There was no one to eat the lunchshe had spread on the table and at two o'clock she began to mechanicallyput things back in their places, when she heard a step on the porch.Running into the living-room, hardly able to breath in her great anxiety,she saw her brother stagger in and fall as one spent from a long race onthe cot-bed they were using as a day lounge. For a moment he lay whiteand still, his eyes closed. Jane knelt at his side and held his limphand. "Brother. Brother Dan," she sobbed, "you are worn out. Oh, won'tyou stay here and let me be the one to hunt? I would give my life to savethe children. Dan, brother, open your eyes and tell me that you forgiveme and believe me." A tightening of the clasp of the limp hand was theonly answer she received. Jane, rising, brought water, cold from thebrook, and when she returned the lad was sitting up, his elbows on hisknees, his face bent on the palms of his hands.

  He looked at her as she handed him the goblet of water and when he sawthe lines of suffering in her face, his heart, that had been likeadamant, softened.

  "Sister," he took her hand as he spoke, "I well know we none of us meanwhat we say in anger, and yet the results are often just as disastrous. Ihave sent word to the Packard ranch for them to be on the lookout for ourlittle ones. Luckily, high on the mountain, I came upon the cabin of aforest ranger where there was a telephone to Redfords and Mrs. Bentlysaid she would relay the message to Mr. Packard." Then he rose, coughingin the same racking way that he had on the train. "Now I am rested, Imust start out again."

  Jane clung to him, trying to detain him. "Oh, brother, please eatsomething. I had lunch all ready. Even yet it is warm." The lad smiled ather wanly, but shook his head. "I couldn't swallow food, and there aresprings wherever I go."

  Then turning back in the doorway and noting that Jane had flung herselfdespairingly on the lounge, he said kindly: "Jane, dear, we often aretaught much-needed lessons through great suffering. You and I will eachhave learned one of these if our little ones are found." Then, holding toa staff for support, he again started away.

  For another two long hours Jane sat in the porch chair as one stunned.She had lost hope. She was sure Julie and Gerald, of their own free will,would not stay away so long. They must have been attacked by wild animalsor kidnapped by that Ute Indian.

  When the clock struck four, Jane leaped to her feet. She could no longerstand the inactivity. She simply must do something. Going to her room,she again unpacked her trunk and took from it a riding habit of dark bluetweed. She donned the neat fitting trousers that laced to the ankles, herhigh riding boots, the long skirted coat and a small visored cap. None ofher costumes was more becoming, but not once did Jane glance in themirror. She had but one desire and that was to help find the children.She was about to write a note to tell Dan that she also had gone insearch of Julie and Gerald when she again heard a step on the porch, alight, quick footfall which she had not heard before. In the open doorwaystood Meg Heger. Without a word of greeting she said: "The children, havethey been found?"

  "No, no!" Jane cried. "Dan was here two hours ago, and, oh, Miss Heger,he is all worn out. I am as troubled about him, or nearly, as I am aboutJulie and Gerald. He told me to stay here for the children might return,but it is so long now. They left at nine this morning. I am sure theywill not come back alone and I, also, must go in search of them."

  The mountain girl's dusky eyes had been closely watching the speaker andshe seemed to sense that the proud girl was in no way consideringherself. "Jane Abbott," she said seriously, "it would be foolhardy foryou, an Easterner, unused to our wilderness ways, to start out alone. Youwould better heed your brother's wishes and remain here."

  But the girl to whom she spoke was beyond the power to reason. "No! No!"she cried. "Oh, Meg Heger, if you are going, I beg of you let me go withyou."

  The mountain girl thought for a moment, then she said: "I will leave wordfor whoever may return." Taking from her pocket the notebook and pencilshe always carried, she tore out a page and wrote upon it:

  "Jane Abbott and Meg Heger are going to the Crazy Creek Camp in search ofthe children. The hour is now 4:30. If we think best, we will remainthere all night."

  The Eastern girl shuddered when she read the note, but made no comment."Let us tack it on the door after we have closed it," she suggested.

  This was done, and taking the stout staff Dan had cut for her, Janefollowed her companion, whom she was glad to see carried a gun.

  Silently they climbed the natural stairway of rocks that ascended by thebrook until they reached the pine which, having fallen across the stream,formed a bridge. Meg uttered an exclamation and turning back she said:"We are on the right trail, Jane Abbott. There is a torn bit of yoursister's red gingham dress on the tree. She evidently feared to walkacross and so she jumped over."

  Jane's eyes glowed with hope. "How happy I would be if we were the onesto find them, although, of course, the important thing is that they shallbe found."

  Meg often broke through dense undergrowth, holding open a place for Janeto pass, then again she took the lead, beating ahead with her staff tostartle serpent or wild creature that might be in hiding.

  Jane, though greatly frightened, followed quietly, but now and then, whenback of Meg, she pressed her hand to her heart to still its too rapidbeating. They came to a wall of almost perpendicular rocks which themountain girl said would save them many minutes if they could scale. HowMeg climbed them alone and unaided was indeed a mystery to the watcherbelow. The toe of her boot fitted into a crevice so small that it did notseem possible that it could be used as a stair, but with little apparenteffort the ascent was made, and then, kneeling on the top, Meg leaned fardown and pulled Jane to a place at her side.

  At last they came to what appeared to be a grove of poles so straight andtall were the pines. They were on a wide, slowly ascending mountainside.The ground was soft with the drying needles and it was easier to walk.Jane commented on the grove-like aspect of the place, and Meg at oncetold her that they were called lodge-pole trees because Indians had usedthem as the main poles in their wigwams. "It is the Tamarack Pine," themountain girl said, and then, as the ground was level for a considerabledistance, she walked more rapidly, and neither spoke for some time. Janewas wretchedly unhappy and she well knew that she never again would behappy unless the childr
en were found.

  "Redfords Peak is one of the lowest in the range," Meg turned to say whenthey had left the pole-pine grove and were climbing over rugged barerocks which in the distance had looked to Jane unscaleable, but Meg, ineach instance, found a way. At last they stood on a large flat rock whichformed a small plateau. "This is the left shoulder of the peak," Megpaused to say, "and it is here that we begin the descent to Crazy Creekmine. See, far down there beyond the foothills is the Packard ranch. Thebuildings are large, but they do not appear so from here." Jane, sittingon a rock to rest, at Meg's suggestion, looked about her, eager to findsome trace of the lost children. From time to time they had both shouted,but there had been no answer save the startled cry of birds, or thescolding of squirrels, who greatly objected to intruders.

  Suddenly the Eastern girl uttered an exclamation of surprise. "Why, thereis the stage road not very far below us. Wouldn't it have been easier forus to follow that?"

  Meg nodded. "Much easier, but I had been told that the children startedaway along the brook, so if they were to be found we would have to huntin the way they had gone."

  "Of course, and we did find that torn bit of Julie's dress."

  Meg looked at her companion eagerly. "Are you rested enough now to startdown? It is an easy descent to the road and we will follow it directlyinto the camp." As she spoke she glanced anxiously at the sun. "It isdropping rapidly to the horizon," Jane, having followed the glance of theother, commented.

  Silently they began the descent. Jane found it much easier than she hadsupposed and before long they were on the stage road which zigzaggeddownward. They had not gone far when Jane said: "What a queer color thesunlight is becoming." She turned to look toward the west and uttered anexclamation. "Meg!" she cried, unconsciously using the mountain girl'sChristian name, "the sun looks like a ball of orange fire and themountain range is being hidden by a yellow haze. What can it mean?"

  "It means that a summer storm is brewing. Let us make haste. We will soonbe under the shelter of the pines and just below them is the Crazy Creekcamp. We will keep dry in one of the old cabins. These sudden storms,though often cloudbursts, are of short duration."

  There was a weird light under the great old pines, but in the spacesbetween they saw that clouds were rapidly gathering close above them.Then a vivid flash of lightning almost blinded them. Instantly it wasfollowed by a crash of thunder which seemed to make the very mountainrock. Big drops of rain could be heard pelting among the trees, thoughfew of them could be felt because of the densely interwoven branches. Megdrew her companion close to one of the great old trunks.

  "It isn't safe under trees, is it?" Jane's face was white with fear. Hercompanion's matter-of-fact voice calmed her. "As safe as it is anywhere,"she commented. "It won't last five minutes and we won't be much wet."

  The flashes of lightning and crashes of thunder were incessant and theroad out of which they had scrambled became for a moment a ragingtorrent. "I've been struck," Jane cried out. "I know I have! I feel theelectricity pulling at my hair."

  Again the calm voice: "You are all right. That is because we are so nearthe cloud. The air is charged with electricity."

  The storm was gone as quickly as it had come, but there was a roaring,rushing noise near. "That's the Crazy Creek. It floods for a few momentsafter every cloudburst. Quick now, let's make for the shelter of a cabin.The camp is just below here." Meg fairly dragged Jane out from under thepines. The light was brighter and the Eastern girl saw beneath her ascene of desolation, but before she could clearly define it, Meg haddragged her into an old log cabin. There was a joyous cry from within. Itwas Gerald shouting, "Meg, you've come. I knew you would."