CHAPTER XXVI
"You bad girl," cried Clarice Van Rensselaer from the table, "why didyou run away? See this nice dinner spoiling for you! I've regained mygood nature, which is lucky for you, but you'll have to give an accountof yourself. Actually, I had to send Mr. Livingston to look you up!" Sheglanced with a well-bred look of quizzical amusement from Hope'sbrilliant, flushed face to the man who accompanied her. "Well, you seethat I for one didn't wait for you," she concluded; "couldn't! I don'tthink I ever was so hungry before in my whole life. Everything tastes_perfectly_ delicious!"
"William has outdone himself this time," remarked Sydney, as the girldrew up an empty box and seated herself at the table, taking a littlefood upon her plate and making a pretense of eating. Everything tastedlike wood. She could scarcely swallow. It finally occurred to her thatshe must be acting very unlike herself. She made a violent effort toappear natural, succeeding fairly well.
"You haven't given account of yourself, yet," said Mrs. Van Rensselaer,glancing from her end of the table to where Hope sat, still in silence.
"Don't ask me," said the girl. "My excuse would sound too trivial toyou, Clarice. Perhaps I wanted to watch the first stars of evening."
"Or follow a frog to its nest in the weeds," supplemented Sydney, "orcatch grass-hoppers that had gone to roost, or listen to the night-songof the cat bird in the brush or--or what, Hopie? Maybe you were writingpoems in your mind, or preparing new lessons for school to-morrow."
"Yes, that's just it," she replied. "I was preparing new lessons--forto-morrow!"
"How funny!" laughed Mrs. Van Rensselaer. "I had forgotten you were afull-fledged school-teacher. Of course, I suppose you do have to thinkabout your teaching some. Goodness, I wouldn't like it at all! It mustbe an awful task to bother with a lot of rough, dirty children! How manypupils have you?"
"Seventeen enrolled--but only seven or eight who attend," replied Hopebriefly.
"Mercy, I thought you must have at least fifty, from all I saw backthere!" gasped Mrs. Van Rensselaer. "Well, I shouldn't think it would bemuch trouble to prepare lessons for that amount."
"_That many_," corrected Hope. "We don't measure them by the pound."
"No, we size them up by the cord," laughed Sydney; "but we don't handle'em, because they're like that much dynamite."
"Dangerous pieces of humanity," said Livingston, smiling.
"Hope can handle them all right," declared Mrs. Van Rensselaer. "She canhandle anyone, for that matter. She's got more tact and diplomacy thanany politician. Trust her to manage seven or eight children! Why, ifshe can't manage a person any other way, she'll actually _bully_ him.She can make you believe black is white every time."
"Fraeulein is so goot!" murmured Louisa, in rapture.
"Thank you," replied Hope gratefully. "You see Louisa knows me _last_,Clarice, and her remark should show you that I have changed for thebetter."
"I always told you there was chance for improvements, didn't I, Hopie?"laughed Sydney.
"Yes, you have said something about there being _room_ for improvement,but I always supposed you judged me to be a hopeless case. I'm gladthough you think there's a _chance_! I always did want to improve!" Asshe spoke she pushed back the box upon which she had been sitting,turning it over to make it lower, and seated herself near the corner ofthe tent, where she was shaded from the direct rays of the lantern'slight.
More than a half hour had already passed, she thought nervously. Thenshe began to count the minutes before her messengers should return. Thetime seemed endless since she had decided to wait for more particularsbefore informing Livingston of what was about to take place. The twinshad learned of it only that afternoon, and they, though filled with theforeboding of a desperate plot, could tell nothing positive about theactual plans. These she hoped they would be able to ascertain. Shebelieved that the soft-voiced twin knew more than he was willing todivulge when he advised her so emphatically against informing Livingstonof the plot. This, combined with a certain anxiety of her own, which shewas unable to define, filled her with vague uneasiness and decided herinstantly to do nothing until the boys returned with more particulars.
"You don't mean to say you've finished your supper, Hope," exclaimedMrs. Van Rensselaer, as the girl settled herself comfortably in the darkcorner. "_I_ never was so hungry before in all my life!" She turned toJim McCullen, who put his head inside the tent: "You see, Mr. McCullen,that good, hard, patient endeavor brings its own reward! I wouldn't missthis for worlds!"
"I'm very glad to hear it, ma'am," replied old Jim politely. "Reckonyou'll sleep pretty well out there to-night, no misquitoes er nothin' tobother you. The tent's all ready fer you folks any time. Plenty o'blankets an' it'll be a warmer night'n usual. Well, so long!"
"Why, he's going away!" said Hope in surprise, as a horse loped down thecreek bank and on through the brush trail. An impulse to run out andcall him back seized her. Sydney's slow reply caused a delay, theimpulse to do so wavered, and in another moment it was too late; yet shefelt somehow that she had made a mistake.
"Yes," replied Carter, after listening to Mrs. Van Rensselaer's chatterfor a moment, "he's going over to the round-up. It's camped about ten orfifteen miles, down at the foot of the mountains. It's as light as dayout and much pleasanter riding in the cool of evening. He'll be backearly in the morning. Had some mail from the ranch to take over to theboys."
"The poor fellows on the round-up all summer! I bet they're glad to gettheir mail," murmured Clarice.
"What they get don't hurt them any," remarked Sydney. "Range ridingisn't conducive to letter writing, and it doesn't take long before acow-puncher is about forgotten by his home people, and his mail consistsof an occasional newspaper, sent by someone who happens to remember him,and the regular home letter from his old mother, who never forgets. Bythe way, here's a lot of mail for O'Hara. Have to ride over with itunless he turns up pretty soon."
"Dear Larry!" said Clarice. "What made him leave just when I came uphere? I'd love to see him! He's such a jolly good fellow. You didn'tsend him away on some wild-goose chase, did you, Hope?"
The girl shaded her eyes with her hand and answered languidly: "No,there wasn't enough excitement here, so he went over to the militaryreservation. They are out on drill over near here--Colonel Walsh, and alot of West Point fellows Larry knows, and so he pulled stakes, justquit our company entirely, and turned old Watch Eye toward Fox Creek."
She drawled her words out slowly as if to fill in time. Livingston,whose eyes constantly sought her face, thought she must be very tired,and rose suddenly to take his leave. She was upon her feet in a flash.
"Sit right down!" she demanded nervously. "Surely you wouldn't think ofleaving us so early; why, we'd all get stupid and go to bed immediately,and Clarice wouldn't enjoy herself at all!" She laid her hand upon hissleeve entreatingly. "_Stay!_" she urged softly.
"As you say," he replied. "It is a pleasure to remain, but you must tellme when I am to go. I thought perhaps you were tired."
She drew her hand away with a sudden movement. He seated himself besideMrs. Van Rensselaer, who began immediately to congratulate him upon hisgood sense in remaining.
"But it was compulsory," he returned. "I didn't dare disobey orders."
"I should say not," agreed Clarice, laughing merrily, "we always mindHope. Everybody does."
"She always knows the right," said little Louisa, looking lovingly ather friend.
"Why, of course," agreed Mrs. Van Rensselaer, "that's taken forgranted."
Hope was again in her corner, silent, intent. Livingston could onlyconclude that she was tired. The rest of them took no special notice ofher, nor did they hear the distant splashing of water which brought intoactivity all the blood in her body and fired each nerve. Clarice wasgiving an elaborate account of her day's experience, consequently noattention was paid to the girl's abrupt departure. She smiled at Louisaas she passed quietly out and made some remark about her horse, whichgave the impression that she might have
forgotten something. At leastLivingston and Louisa received that impression; as for the others theywere busy, and besides Hope was Hope, who always followed her own freefancy.
The girl fairly flew along the trail that skirted the creek until shegrasped the bridle of a small Indian pony that was nosing its waycautiously toward her.
"Oh, it's you!" exclaimed its small rider in a relieved tone, as heslipped to the ground and stood in the path beside the girl. "I wasmighty scared it might be somebody else." Hope raised the boy's face sothat the moon shone full upon it.
"Ned!" she exclaimed under her breath. "Why are you here? Where are theboys?"
"The old man's got 'em locked up in the granary," he announced. Thenseeing the look of alarm that flashed into her face, added assuringly:"But that's all right, _I'm_ here! They told me to tell you they'd getout somehow 'fore mornin'. I cached their horses in the brush for 'em,and they're diggin' themselves out underneath the barn. Here," he said,handing something to her. "I got your rifle out o' your room an' hid itunder the house soon's ever you left, an' all these cartridges. I justknew the old man 'ud go an' look fer it."
"Oh!" exclaimed the girl, suddenly gathering child, gun, and all intoher arms. "What a little _man_ you are."
"Yep," said the boy, disengaging himself; "an' I've got a lot to tellyou!"
"And you're _sure_ about this," questioned Hope, after the boy had tolda story so complete in detail as to fairly unnerve her. "You're_perfectly_ sure that these men are going to meet at the shed--the bigshed close to Fritz's grave, there below the ledge of rocks?"
"Sure's anything," replied the boy convincingly. "There'll be seven ereight from our place, some from Old Peter's an' some from up the creek."
Hope shivered as though it had been a winter's night.
"What _shall_ we do! What _shall_ we do!" she repeated almostfrantically.
"Why, _fight 'em_, of course!" exclaimed the boy. "Dave an' Dan'll getout by then, an' we'll all lay up there behind them rocks an' justpepper 'em! There's 'bout a million peek-holes in that wall o' rocks,an' they can't never hit us. Pooh, I ain't afraid o' twenty men! We'llmake 'em think all the soldiers from the post is behind there!"
"The soldiers!" exclaimed the girl, filled suddenly with a new life,"and they _shall be there_! _They shall be there!_"