Part 9

Miss Howard had not been mistaken. As her friends said, her bump of location was well developed. Just as the dusk and the storm were closing down upon them, she led her followers into a narrow passageway between rocky walls, and stopped at the large, black mouth of a cave.

“Here we are,” she called back. “Where are your matches? I’d like to see if the place is already inhabited.”

“I have some.” Abner sprang to the ground, handed the mule’s rein to Talitha, and came to the teacher’s side.

“Feel on the ground just inside the cave and find me some dry twigs or splinters, if you can; we must be careful of the matches.”

The boy fumbled about on his knees for a moment. “Here are some and they feel real tinder-y, too. Let me go ahead.” Abner struck a match and applied it carefully to the pine twigs he had bunched. It made a fine torch, revealing what at first appeared to be a small cave, but which gradually widened as they went on to one of considerable dimensions.

Several times the boy stopped to renew his torch. Fortunately there was plenty of material—a litter of pine, balsam, and fir boughs, as though the place had been recently occupied. There were no signs of the presence of wild animals as the young woman had secretly feared, but suddenly Abner stopped in astonishment. He instantly recognized the dark object at the farther end of the cave and shivered, remembering certain events of his boyhood days.

“It’s only an old still that’s been there for years,” reassured Miss Howard, failing to understand. She slipped from her horse. “Now we must have a fire the very first thing. That’s the place,” pointing to what seemed a natural fireplace in the rocky wall where lay a heap of ashes. “There’s a kind of chimney above it, so we won’t be smoked out.”

“Why, there’s a fine bed of coals!” Abner presently exclaimed, uncovering them.

“That’s fortunate; it’ll be such a saving of matches. I think we can pick up plenty of stuff to make a good fire, then we must go out and forage for enough to last through the night.” Miss Howard seemed as cheerful and matter-of-fact as though she were in her own home, while in reality she was much perplexed at the unmistakable evidences that the place had, very recently, been inhabited. It was much too late in the season for surveyors, or parties in search of botanical or geological specimens. They might have been hunters lured to the mountains by the unusually pleasant weather and the prospect of returning with a full game bag. She tried to think of the latter possibility; at any rate the young people’s suspicions must not be aroused.

In a few moments Abner and Gincy had a brisk fire burning. Talitha was feeding the horses and mules some corn she found in the saddlebags. “They’ll have a pretty slim supper, I’m afraid, and they’re so hungry—I wonder why Martin doesn’t come,” she broke off, looking anxiously toward the entrance. “Do you suppose he could have missed the way?”

“I think more likely the sorrel is having a hard time to get along,” said her teacher. “But if he isn’t here soon Abner and I will go to meet him.”

The glow of the fire lighted the cave, and the young woman glanced around with apparent carelessness, but her eyes were keen and watchful. Behind the old still she picked up a man’s coat. It had not lain there long, for it was only slightly damp and no musty smell clung to it. She quietly tucked it into a niche of the wall. Over by the fire the girls were examining the contents of the saddlebags in an effort to eke out a respectable supper. “I wish I hadn’t eaten so much at noon,” she heard Gincy say. “I didn’t need it and I feel just as hungry as though I hadn’t had a bite of breakfast or dinner, either.”

Miss Howard did not allow herself to think of the consequences should they find themselves hemmed in by snowdrifts the next morning, but she was again reminded that Martin had not yet appeared. Something must be done immediately. She hurried over to the young people, and with their help two large torches were made. One was lighted. “We may not need the other, but we’ll keep it for an emergency,” she said. “Stay right here and don’t worry; we’ll be back soon.” Miss Howard and Abner hurried out of the cave.

How dark it had grown! The young woman was startled as, with torch held aloft, she peered out at the end of the passageway. There were no signs of Martin anywhere.

“You’d better call to him,” she said to Abner.

“Halloo! halloo!” the lad repeated again and again, and then they both listened. The echoes died away in the hollows of the great hills, but no answering call came back to them.

XIV LOST ON THE MOUNTAINS

MARTIN saw the last of his party through a cloud of whirling flakes. He followed as fast as the lame and now nearly exhausted horse would allow him, but not a trace of them was again visible. Even the tracks of the animals were obliterated by the fast falling snow. He did not lose courage, however, although the trail itself grew fainter and fainter in the deepening twilight. But finally his steps grew more halting and doubtful; twice he barely saved himself from slipping over a rocky ledge. At last he paused in bewilderment.

Shading his eyes with both hands he looked around. He could not see two rods before him. Which way should he go? Where had the little company disappeared? He hated to call and bring Miss Howard back to show him the way—or perhaps she would send Abner. At any rate he must have help as soon as possible, and lifting up his voice he shouted with all the strength of his lungs, then waited in vain for some reply. The old horse whinnied inquiringly and rubbed his cold nose against Martin’s shoulder. It brought the young fellow’s grievance to mind afresh. If his father had not refused to let Talitha ride Cain—a biddable young mule—although there would be no work for the animal until spring, he would not be in this plight; the whole party could have made much faster progress and perhaps have reached the Bradshaw place in spite of the storm. But there was no time for bitter reflection; he must keep moving. Evidently his companions were already beyond the sound of his voice—call as he might.

In that partially sheltered place he could feel the air growing colder—a wind swept through the pines above his head and sent down light clouds of snow. Martin shivered helplessly, then in despair made a plunge forward, the sorrel stumbled after; both slipped—it was a misstep—and went down, down, the young fellow still clinging to the bridle with one hand while the other caught at bush and sapling to break his fall. Every moment he expected the horse would descend upon him. It was so close he could hear its frightened snorts as it crashed downward.

Martin’s head grew dizzy, a weird light whirled before him; strange cries echoed in his ears, and he felt numb in a helpless fright. Then he suddenly stopped with a jolt and jar that opened his eyes. Still that glow, brighter than ever, was before them.

“Lands!” shouted a voice, “be careful or that critter’ll tromp on you!”

“Why, the poor boy, he must have slipped over the bank and the horse after him. It’s a miracle they were not killed!”

Martin tried to speak, but he was too dazed to put the words together.

“Abner, see if he’s hurt anywhere. I do hope there are no bones broken. We shouldn’t have let him get so far behind,” Miss Howard was reproaching herself severely.

“I reckon he’s stunned more than anything else,” decided Abner wisely, after helping Martin to his feet and brushing off the snow. “But if the sorrel ain’t used up it’ll be a wonder. He air too old fer such servigrous exercise.”

Although the animal floundered about excitedly, his fright was partly due to the flaming torch which Miss Howard held above her head. Abner soon quieted the frantic creature. They were near the passageway leading to the cave and shielded from the fury of the storm.

“Soon as you can, fasten your horse to that pine and help me get Martin in by the fire; we’ll come back after it shortly.”

Together, the two helped the young fellow along the passageway. The torch had suddenly flickered out, but a pale light showed the entrance to the cave. Two heads were thrust anxiously out, then the watchers ran to meet them.

“Is Martin hurt?” exclaimed Talitha as she caught hold of him.

“I don’t really think so,” assured her teacher, “but he must be chilled through. We must get him in by the fire—not too close—and rub him well. I wish he had something hot to drink.”

Gradually Martin came to himself, although he seemed much exhausted. He lay propped up near the fire, the girls hovering over him while Miss Howard and Abner again disappeared. Presently they returned with the sorrel.

Except for numerous bruises and being badly shaken up, the old horse had escaped injury, but it was plainly evident that he would not be able to carry Talitha farther on her journey.

None of the party were thinking of that now, they were too thankful to be together once more. Fortunately the cave was large enough to allow of the animals being tethered near the entrance and leave room about the fireplace for their riders to spread the scanty supper. It was meagre enough, and the party thought hungrily of the bountiful dinner they had eaten that noon—it seemed like yesterday. If the weather permitted them to go on the next morning there would be several hours’ journey before they could get anything more to eat, and if they were obliged to stay longer— That was too serious to think about and they tried to help Miss Howard make as light of the situation as possible.

“I saved an ear of corn for the sorrel,” whispered Talitha to Abner. “It’s in Jack’s saddlebag.” It was terribly hard to see the faithful animals nosing about on the ground for a bit of provender—much worse than going without herself, Talitha thought. Abner nodded and slipped away. After a time he returned with an armful of sticks and threw them down before the fire.

“I can easily find enough to last through the night, and perhaps I can get a little fodder if I look around. It doesn’t seem to be snowing quite so much, but I can hardly tell, it’s so sheltered here,” he said, choosing some dry pine for another torch.

“If you are going to start out foraging I’m going with you,” Miss Howard declared. “I don’t want any more people getting lost. I’m sure that Martin wouldn’t care to repeat his experience.”

The young fellow shook his head. “I’ll be all right come morning, though,” he announced confidently.

“Let us go along and help Abner, then we can get all that is needed in two or three trips,” begged Gincy.

The young woman hesitated. “I don’t know but it might be a good plan,” she answered finally. “But Martin must stay right where he is and try to get rested.”

Miss Howard halted at the entrance to the passageway, holding the torch aloft and keeping a sharp eye on her charges. She might have been Liberty enlightening the mountains as she stood there—the light flaming out over the white slopes beyond. The snow was still falling upon them, but in more scattering flakes as though the storm had spent its force.

Suddenly, she saw—with a start—little gleams of light flash far upon the opposite mountain-side. They vanished and again appeared in another place as though people—there were certainly more than one—were moving about. She thought of the coat she had found in the cave, and her old anxiety returned. Talitha and Gincy coming up—their arms heaped with firewood—wondered at her pale face.

“I reckon you’re plumb tuckered out,” said the latter sympathizingly. “My, what a pile Abner’s got! Don’t you ’low it’ll do us to-night if we’re careful?”

The teacher surveyed it with doubt, but she only said calmly, “I’m sure it will last a long time, and if we should need any more it can be easily gathered.”

“If I only had a hatchet I could get some big sticks down in that holler,” panted Abner. “I picked up a little green stuff for the beastes to nibble at, it’ll make ’em more content, but it’s mighty poor feedin’.”

Entering the cave they found Martin asleep by the fire. Quietly they moved about, making themselves comfortable as possible for the night and were soon dozing around the fireplace.

Miss Howard did not allow her eyes to close. She watched and listened, alert to catch any unusual sound, while the young people around her slept fitfully.

Late in the night she heard voices, then a wild shout and the crunching of hoofs in the snow. The mules did not stir, but the horses became restless and one of them whinnied. The sleepers awoke suddenly and sat up. Miss Howard looked at her watch, it was nearly twelve o’clock. She smiled at them sleepily.

“Don’t you want to sing something?” she inquired. “Perhaps the night won’t seem so long if we do.”

Talitha rubbed her eyes. It was a strange request at that late hour and in such a place, but she cheerfully joined in with the others when her teacher began the old choral so familiar to Bentville pupils:

“A mighty fortress is our God, A bulwark never failing—”

The strong, young voices filled the cave with strange echoes which penetrated into the night. The singers caught the spirit of the song as they went on and on. All their fears for the morrow had vanished. The dumb creatures looked around at them in astonishment.

Miss Howard was keeping her eyes on the entrance as she sang. Over the animals’ heads she could see a light coming along the passageway. It grew brighter and brighter as it neared the cave opening. Her charges did not see it; Martin was singing with closed eyes, and the two girls were watching Abner pile fresh sticks upon the fire. She knew how superstitious were the mountain people, especially the lawless ones who were fugitives from justice because of their propensity for appropriating their neighbours’ horses and cattle. Was it possible that after all her little party was to be molested?

As the last note died away, a man’s head, covered with a coonskin cap, was thrust inside and then as suddenly withdrawn. “Come on, Joe, Gid, here they are safe and sound!” shouted a bluff voice, and the Bradshaws—father and sons—hurried into the cave.

With delighted shouts the wayfarers gathered around them.

“We’ve been beatin’ ’bout these here mountings sence nine o’clock,” said the older man, “and we war jest ready ter give up when we heard the singin’. Hit war powerful deceivin’ at first—a-comin’ up out’n the ground that-away, till I ’lowed you war nowhar but in that old still cave.”

“Then it was the light from your lanterns I saw when the young people were gathering the firewood. Didn’t you see my torch?”

Joe Bradshaw laughed while his father and brother looked sheepish. “Yes, we did see it, but Pappy and Gid ’lowed it was a harnt. At first it looked like a fire from where we were, and then it disappeared so suddenly it really was mystifying.”

“’Twas the singin’ thet fetched us,” persisted the elder Bradshaw. “We’d been expectin’ you sence before sundown, and when hit went on nine o’clock and war dark and snowy I ’lowed you war lost and we jest set out ter sarch. Thar war a passel o’ hoss thieves in these parts a leetle spell back, and we ’lowed, too, thet mebbe they’d got a holt of your beastes and left you ter foot hit. Thet’s the reason we didn’t sarch here fust thing. This has been the place ter find sech as them, and we warn’t nowise anxious ter make their ’quaintance.”

“Gid has some corn in the saddlebags for the beastes,” said Joe, “and I have something for your supper that mother sent. You must be nearly starved.”

But Talitha agreed with her teacher that it would be better to wait until morning and have a hearty meal before continuing their journey. Relieved of the necessity for watchfulness, Miss Howard was soon asleep. After talking a little longer her charges followed suit while the Bradshaws kept careful guard.

It was later than usual when the little company breakfasted the next morning. There was no finer cook in all the mountains than Mrs. Bradshaw. A large loaf of light bread and a bag of crullers were a welcome addition to the potatoes Joe had put roasting in the ashes at an early hour, and the bacon, eggs, and coffee served in true camp fashion. As they ate they could hear the melting snow dripping from the rocks. The sun was shining and sent splashes of light into the passageway. They could not be otherwise than merry, although they listened with a shiver to Martin’s account of his experience the previous night.

“It seemed as though I slipped miles—that I should never get to the foot of this awful mountain. And I could hear the old sorrel tearing along after me. Every minute I expected he’d land on top and I’d be crushed to a pulp—”

“But he didn’t,” Abner chimed in. “The old beastie is sure ’nough game. I’ve seen him slide down into the holler from Red Mountain when it was icy, and he just put his legs together stiff and slipped along as slick as—”

“You’d better ride my hoss critter the rest of the way,” Gid offered with true mountain hospitality. “I’ll lead the sorrel home and keep him ’til he’s called fer—thar’s ’nough stable room.”

Talitha felt as grateful for this proposal as Abner and Gincy could possibly have done, for she knew the animal would have the best of care and a long rest. Dan Gooch would not be able to come for him until spring opened.

Before leaving the cave Miss Howard brought out the coat she had tucked away. The elder Bradshaw examined it closely, while the others watched his face, which wore a mysterious expression. “I’d best pack hit ’long with me,” he said presently. “I might happen on the owner; I reckon he war in haste ter git away or he’d never left sech as this behind in the ol’ still cave. I call hit downright onlucky.”

“I never knew before there was a still in these parts,” said Martin. “I thought it was over by Pigg Branch.”

“Mebbe you’ll find one thar now if you’ll take the resk of sarchin’ fer hit, but this here one war put out o’ business a cornsiderable spell back.” The man chuckled with such evident amusement that all but Miss Howard and his two sons stared in surprise.

“I think you’d better tell them,” urged the former, “it is a very interesting story.”

“My mam war sure ’nough peart,” grinned the old man. “Lish Dumley kep’ this still when I war ’bout Joe’s age, and pap and I uster come up and call on him oftener’n war fer our good. Hit made mam mighty sober-sided, but we never paid no ’tention ter anythin’ she said. One day she tuk hit inter her head ter go ter the Gap ter see Lizy Sneed-they war gals tergether—and left pappy and me ter tend the young-uns.

“That night this ol’ still war raided and Lish Dumley and his men caught red-handed. Hit’s the last they seen of the mountings fer many a year, ’cept mebbe what they could view through the bars.”

“I ’low your mammy was mightily pleasured to have the stillin’ stopped,” said Gincy innocently.

Mr. Bradshaw smiled broadly. “Law, yes. When mam undertook a thing hit war good as done. She never said nothin’ ter nobody, but the sheriff let hit leak out; he war thet pleased mam war so gritty. Pappy ’lowed Dumley’d burn our cabin once he got out’n the pen, but I reckon he war too broken-sperited ter take revenge thet’d only shut him up agin.”

“I ’low our mammy’d do the same thing if thet still war a-runnin’ now,” said Gid proudly. “She air mighty servigrous when hit comes ter whiskey and sech, and pappy air jest as set agin hit, too.”

The little party looked with a new interest around the cave, and at the dark silent object which the sheriff and his men had wrecked that it do no more harm. If it only had a voice how many strange tales it could tell them.

Out on the trail once more with the sun shining above their heads, they made more rapid progress than the day previous. Gid was far in the rear leading the sorrel. Not more than a quarter of a mile from the cave, Mr. Bradshaw, who was ahead, stopped suddenly. As the rest of the party came up he pointed into a sheltered hollow shut in by rocky walls.

“See whar those fellers stopped last night. Hit’s a wonder they didn’t rout you out of thet cave and take your beastes.” A heap of ashes and the much trodden earth showed where the desperadoes had camped. Gincy and Talitha were pale with fright. How near they had been to danger after all!

Because of their late start, the party did not reach the Bradshaw home until nearly noon.

“I ’lowed you’d come,” Mrs. Bradshaw declared. “The boys and their pappy generally gits what they go after. Only I reckoned they might hev fetched along a couple or so of them hoss thieves, the sheriff and his men hev been a-sarchin’ fer, seein’ thar war sech a comp’ny of you,” she added.

“I hev found whar they war last night,” exclaimed Pappy Bradshaw triumphantly. “And I hev somethin’ ter remember the leader of the gang. He may be a-callin’ fer hit some day.” The man chuckled loudly to himself, but Miss Howard instantly changed the subject.

In good season the next morning the party were once more on their way and reached Bentville early that evening.

XV THE WALKING PARTY

SPRING came on apace. There was a lingering perfume from the apple blossoms in the air when Lalla proposed a walking party. “We’ll go to the Crater, have our supper, and come back by moonlight. Miss Howard’s going with us—isn’t it grand?”

“Splendid!” said Gincy. “I reckon Miss Howard’s planning to let some one else inspect the rooms and hall this afternoon; she knows I can’t squeeze in another thing and go. I’m worn out already trying to plan for my work, and lessons, and music.”

“That’s all arranged,” said Lalla, “we’re to start promptly from the front steps at two o’clock. I’ll help you put away the towels; I’m all ready this minute!”

Gincy looked at Lalla’s short, brown skirt and percale waist as she was counting the sheets. “Well,” she said at last, “I don’t believe I’ve a thing to wear—climbing’s terribly hard on clothes.”

“I’ve another old skirt you’re welcome to; it’s a fright, though.”

“Bring her along, I’ll be plumb tickled to improve her looks,” agreed Gincy gaily.

Lalla ran off and soon reappeared with a bright homespun. “That’s what I wore for the first three months. I thought it was pretty then; I never saw such a thing to wear, you can’t tear it to save your life!”

“I’ll be a regular beacon light, we won’t need the moon coming back,” said Gincy as she flew around to finish her morning’s work. “I’ll put a twist of red ribbon around Abner’s old hat. I’ve a piece that’s almost a match.”

When the four girls gathered on the front porch of the Hall, there sat Miss Howard with her folding easel and box of paints. “Girls,” she said, “suppose we change our minds and go to Slate Lick this afternoon, then I can do some sketching.”

“Good!” exclaimed Gincy delightedly. “I haven’t been out that way at all.”

“It’s mighty pretty, and not so hard walking,” said Kizzie, and the rest seemed equally pleased with the change.

“We’ll go down Scafflecane Pike and cut across to the railroad, it’s a good deal shorter.” Miss Howard gathered up her belongings and started off ahead at a brisk pace. At the gate they met Mallie and Nancy Jane, the latter had been crying.

“Let’s ask them to go with us,” said Miss Howard, turning suddenly. There was a brief consultation behind the cypresses, then Lalla sped back after the two.

“Tell them to come just as they are!” called Urilla. “Thank goodness, they aren’t dressed up.”

“What a queer looking bundle,” remarked Mallie as the two joined the waiting group.

“Isn’t it?” responded Gincy, patting a bulky parcel. “Shooting irons come handy whar thar air dangerous animals,” relapsing into her former vocabulary.