Chapter 7

All anxiety, his auditors were profoundly attentive while Richard narrated the adventures that had befallen them in the thicket. They were hotly pursued and closely surrounded several times, so determined were the raiders upon capturing the horses, but friendly arbors screened them from view, and the sagacious animals were as quiet as their preservers. On the night of their arrival at the thicket with the horses, Richard suggested that it might be wise to remove the box, since in case the ladies were surprised they might be forced to disclose the secret. Accordingly he and his companion dismounted, secured the horses, and penetrated on foot to the place. What was their amazement to see the smouldering light of a fire and a man stretched upon the ground in a deep sleep. A grey blanket served him for a pillow. Ere they could reach him he stirred uneasily, started up, seized his blanket, and sprang away among the trees. But they were too quick for him, especially as the clinging vine impeded his progress. They captured him, and he confessed that he was one of Baywater's scouts, and that he had spent two days in the thicket searching for the box of jewels he had seen through the window of the villa.

The young men secured their prisoner, whom one guarded at the pistol's point, while the other pushed on, buried the box in another place, and then they conveyed the ruffian to Columbus.

"Three nights ago," concluded Richard, "we were so closely cornered that there was no help but in flight. We rode continuously till our horses were safe on the Lester plantation, but my Bonnie Bess is done for, I fear," and he glanced compassionately at the reeking animal, his own especial property.

Poor Bess! Ere another twenty-four hours had gone by, her sorrowful master was called away from the villa to see her die of lockjaw. He had ridden her to her death in the performance of his duty.

After his interesting recital the ladies refused to wait till morning to regain the buried treasures. They would go at once, and a number of friends who had gathered to welcome the returned wanderers, and congratulate their prowess, volunteered to accompany the party. So they started, quite a procession, relying upon the lately frequented path to save their garments from rents.

The new spot chosen for the little pit was only a few yards from the original place, and seemed sunken for several feet in all directions--a significant fact as it proved.

This time Charlie wielded the pick, and with such exaggerated force that the earth was loosened for quite a space around the box. Some excitement attended the rescue of the precious casket from fancied peril, and the dense bower resounded with an animated discussion of late events.

Warned by the lengthening shadows they turned to depart when a bystander suddenly peering forward, said: "Look there, Lee. What is that? There, close to the tree. Temple, do you see?"

"The root of a tree, I think," replied Lawrence, stooping down to examine a dark object that jutted out of the newly opened pit.

Clearing the earth away with his hands he discovered, not a root, but what seemed to be the corner of an iron box. Richard, who was beside him, fell to work, and a further exploration revealed a band of some metal, probably brass. Intense curiosity now prevailed.

"Charlie, go to the house and bring some torches," said his master. Then to Richard: "We must get at the bottom of this. The ladies had better go--it is nearly night."

But the ladies would do nothing of the kind. Here was something that promised to be a mystery indeed. They remained till an iron, brass-bound box, not large but heavy, had been disinterred and with difficulty lifted to the surface. With still more difficulty it was conveyed to the villa, where the expectant group waited for a smith to come and open it.

When the rusty lock was made to unclasp, the top was raised, and there, in numerous rouleaux, was gold coin to the amount of thousands of dollars. Excitement was now but a faint term for the sensation.

The young men were congratulated upon their find till their hands were sore from pressure, and the ladies were embraced in proportion by enthusiastic friends.

How came it there? Who had buried it and when? There was a legend in those parts that four wealthy Spaniards had been pursued and butchered by the Indians in the early days, and that they had, while fleeing away, buried the gold in an Alabama wild. Another tradition was, that during the siege of New Orleans, some French settlers had run the blockade and penetrated far into the country with vast wealth that was never traced afterwards. Some of the older citizens had also heard of a miserly ancestor of the Lawrences (Mrs. Lee had been a Lawrence) who lived a hermit life in the villa when it was only a log cabin; who denied himself the simplest comforts, and who died in want; but he had been seen by the curious counting his gold at night.

Whatever the mystery it was never solved. The facts as known were widely published, but no rival claimant ever appeared.

The wedding was a brilliant social affair. The Lee family were recognized leaders, and their ancestral home was noted for its elegant appointments and generous hospitality.

"And where will you and Dick live, Netta?" asked a Columbus belle.

"We think of building in the thicket."

"What! Bury yourself in Dry Thicket? That horrible place?"

"Soyez tranquille, ma chere," playfully answered the young bride. "Dry Thicket has proved too great a blessing to us to be dreaded. However, come and see us one day and judge for yourself."

And when, as the "one days" had lengthened into many, enticed by the rumors she heard, the girl, now a married woman, did go, she found a magnificent residence, with lovely terraced lawns, shell-road drives, and luxuries unknown in city homes. All on the site of the despised Dry Thicket. White cottages dotted the landscape, and there was no trace of the gloomy thicket save one natural bower overhung with trees and interlaced by vines. Within its cool recesses was a rustic chair, and sheltered by a miniature Gothic temple, stood the brightly-burnished iron box which chance had made the foundation of so much happiness and prosperity.

The Girl Farmers

A PRACTICAL STORY

"I see no way out of this, girls, but for you to go to work and support yourselves with your accomplishments. At least I suppose you've got some. Your schooling cost a fortune, and maybe it was well enough, for now there's a chance for you to make it count."

And thus delivering himself, gruff Uncle Abner took a fresh chew of tobacco, and let his eyes wander aimlessly among those dead-and-gone relatives hanging on the walls. Anywhere indeed but at the two rosy, eager faces before him; for the sisters, Margaret and Elizabeth, sat watching and listening to this, the first hint of difficulty in the easy-going of their pampered lives.

Margaret spoke. "What is the amount of the mortgage, Uncle?"

"Tut, tut," he grunted, with a show of impatience, "you can't understand; girls aint expected to know about business; they h'aint any heads for it. You'd better just shut up the place and come over to my house till you can look around you a bit."

"You are very kind, uncle, but we will consider that after you have answered my question," continued Margaret with quiet insistence. "How are we to understand unless we are told? And why keep us in ignorance? We have a right to know just how our father's affairs were left, and I, for my part, _intend_ to know;--" and the earnest young voice stopped short of the sob that caught and held it quivering.

There was silence while the tall clock ticked a few moments away. The large grey eyes had no release in their steady depths. Thus driven Uncle Abner proceeded to explain that it was when their brother James got into that trouble over his wife's property. Their father had been obliged to borrow, and he (Uncle Abner), accommodated him, taking as security a mortage on the farm.

"It was for five thousand dollars," he concluded, "and of course if he had lived--," he paused, and walking to the window, his hands plunged deep into his homespun pockets, gazed uncomfortably upon the broad stretch of field and pasture so dear to the orphan nieces he was unwittingly torturing.

The Milfords were a proud race. Proud in the sturdy yeoman spirit of honest independence. Margaret was not long in making up her mind.

"You are right, uncle," she said with marked deliberation. "Libbie and I have indeed had every advantage that the best schools afford. We ought to go to work and we will. But--" and her wistful gaze swept their beloved possessions indoor and out--"it shall be here; not anywhere else."

"What upon earth are you driving at?" spluttered Uncle Abner, while Elizabeth smiled acquiescence in the decision of the beloved older sister whose word had been law since their pinafore days. Whatever the outlook she would stand by her. "I'd like to know what you can do here!" went on their sage adviser, muttering audibly something about the "infernal nonsense of women folks."

"I mean it, uncle. I never was further from talking nonsense. We will work here, on the old farm, and save our home from strangers, if you will only be patient and give us time. I can take charge of the hands and the crops. Elizabeth will manage the house and garden. In fact I find myself longing every minute to begin. It will be something to occupy us and divert us from gloomy thoughts;" and she glanced at the somber garments that told of recent bereavement.

"But you can't stay here without a protector," objected her uncle, getting downright wrathful as he felt inwardly conscious that he would be obliged to yield. He had seen his niece Margaret have her own way more than once. Still he must fight for it.

"You just take my advice and do what I said at first. Let somebody take the place and work off the debt--in a way, you understand. You can look about for a music class, and Lizzie here can get a position in the public schools. Of course you know you are welcome at my house as long as you need--"

"Now, listen, uncle, do," broke in Margaret, catching his arm with clasped hands, as a persuasive cadence crept into her resolute tones. "I know I can learn to do what other women are doing all over the land. Not so many Southern women, I grant you; we are a spoiled lot as ever lived, and are foolishly ashamed to work. But we are no better than our sisters of the north and west, and I, for one, do not care a whit what people may think about it. As to being afraid to stay here, that would be silly. Why, I am not so very many years from thirty and Elizabeth is every bit of twenty-three. Quite old maids, you see;--bachelor maids, if you please. The neighborhood is thickly settled; Rock and Don are the best watch dogs ever seen, and the men in the cabins with their families are faithful, you know. The village is in sight, and the big farm bell can be heard a mile away. Nobody will molest us. I assure you we shall not be afraid; and last of all, I can handle a pistol as well as a man, if need be; and Libby is a terror with a hat pin! Now do be good and let us try it."

The brave girl had her way, no matter if Davis did want to add the four hundred acres of the Milford farm to his own fine estate.

The first year was not a bed of roses for the inexperienced young farmers, but they were not daunted. A music class and a dozen pupils in belles-lettres helped out the income, and there was no inconsiderable revenue from the sale of milk, butter, eggs, fruit and vegetables.

They had "the orchard, the meadow, and deep-tangled wildwood," full of sacred memories. They fairly gloried in their dairy, the poultry yard, and garden. They were up at daylight, and with the help of a small boy from the cabins, gathered the marketing which Margaret, in her high cart, took to the hotels at the thriving village of the railroad junction.

Richard Davis undertook the live-stock raising for the sisters on the shares. This was a great help, though Uncle Abner, who had been bulldozed into complacency, he said, hinted on occasions that the "young fellow would be sharing himself with one of 'em before long." However, the energetic maidens gave no heed, save to the grand purpose of their lives.

They learned to "gar old clo'es amaist as weel as new." Carpets were darned and scoured and turned; the time-honored furniture was patched and polished; and their fair hands did not shrink from putting on a fresh coat of paint, or paper, now and then. Under severe pressure of temptation they parted with several pieces of old mahogany during the craze for antiques, at prices almost fabulous. This they invested in some shares of bank stock.

The second year's profits footed up enough to make a payment to Uncle Abner, and then their joy knew no bounds. In vain their anxious friends urged them to sell out and live in a small cottage. Their sympathy was thrown away.

"Every blade of grass is dear to me," persisted Margaret. "Perhaps I have more sentiment than sense, but this should be my life work. And when free from debt, think how easy to see the end of every year from the beginning. Meanwhile everything is getting more simple for us. At first, we had to be content with just the old rut, for we knew nothing else. Now we study the best methods. We take a farmer's journal, which has proved a noble education. The continual improvements in machinery and necessary implements are of inestimable value. The best costs a little more at first, but in the end it pays."

"I always detested farming," exclaimed an old schoolmate who had married a rich banker.

"Come and see us," said Margaret, with her hopeful smile. "Let us show you our work."

She came, partly from curiosity, and together the friends went over the premises. First, the kitchen garden where grew in hills or rows vegetables after the most approved latter-day culture; next, the glowing garden of flowers whose gorgeous bloom found ready sale; then the poultry yard, pig-sties, bee-hives and stables, Margaret all the while discoursing upon remedies for this or that drawback, and how to manage the diverse brands and breeds, till her dainty friend held up her hands in honest wonder.

"How on earth and where did you learn all this?" she found voice to ask.

"From the journals, I read about farming and gardening, about housekeeping, and raising all those barn-yard creatures. We are thinking of adding a small family of canaries to our stock; they are much sought after and readily sell. Oh, I could not get on at all without my papers. They are everything to me. Why, just listen to what I know about corn," she went on, with a proud light in her handsome eyes. "Kentucky was once a leading state in raising corn, and she will be again," and here followed facts and statistics singularly incongruous from rosy lips to the listening ears of the city girl. "There is nothing, Amelia, that pays like doing a thing well. For instance, our own Kentucky is not famous for well-kept farms, but I could not afford to have my fences down, my fields choked with weeds, and my stock depredating elsewhere."

"But how do you manage your servants? They are the great bugbear nowadays."

"By making them respect me and by paying good wages. They should not be expected to give their time and strength at starvation prices. I do have trouble sometimes. In fact I think, first and last, I have done everything but plow. But in the main I get along. The farm is prospering, and a few years hence I mean to have it called a model, not a mortgaged farm."

"It is all right, of course, my dear, if you like it," said her city friend, with somewhat unwilling admiration, "but I should think you would get dreadfully tanned and coarse."

"Do I look so?" asked the country girl, with a happy little challenging laugh. "I was certainly never in better health."

And the visitor had to admit that there was no lack of womanly beauty in the rich coloring of the young farmer's rounded cheeks, albeit a few tiny freckles bridged the straight nose.

"But think how utterly you are lost to society! What a sacrifice for a Milford!" lamented the rich man's wife, to whom life's hard lessons had not come. "I can never forget the gorgeous entertainment at this old house when we were first home from school. Such flowers! Such music! Such a supper! And, oh, the lovely gowns! I declare, Maggie, you were a beauty that night, and Libbie never looked prettier. It seems a crying shame!"

"Not converted yet?" playfully asked the other, though the quick tears sprang to her eyes at the sudden stab of memory.

"Remember, dear," she added gently, "we could not have gone out even if we had not decided to give up all idle pleasures. But we are not hermits, I assure you. Our old friends are most kind. Perhaps one day we may live again those happy times."

"But surely you will marry. A girl like you could never be an old maid."

At which sally Margaret laughed outright, adding gaily that there would be time enough and to spare for matrimony.

"I am too busy now to even think of it. By and by I shall have the finest of bees and fancy poultry. Already my grape arbor is thriving. I sell quantities of fruit and berries. But my stronghold is farm literature; I devour it at night, while Libbie reads society bits in the village weekly, or cons the city daily. Poor Lib! It goes right hard with her to draggle her skirts in the dewy strawberry beds; but she feels consoled when I fetch up the till! What misers we be, hoarding our strong box!"

So these heroic girls are going on, the respected of all observers. Their example has encouraged others to throw off the shackles of "Southern caste" and be independent of unwilling relatives more favored by fortune. The mortgage is not yet entirely lifted, but it will be. The bluegrass pastures of the fine old estate have been given over to the grazing of blooded horses and cattle, at so much per head, thereby counting in a greatly increased revenue.

Margaret's latest venture is a fine young thoroughbred, which the knowing ones predict will prove a gold mine. So mote it be.

Uncle Abner is patient and helpful. He has long ago felt like hiding "his diminished head," and is proud of his young nieces. They have saved the old homestead where three generations of the family were born. Alone they have struggled, protected by the God of the orphan, whose glorious sunshine and rain so abundantly bless their labors!

Proving a Heart

A LOVE STORY

"Hold fast! don't be frightened! I can save you if you will only be strong!" were the exclamations that burst hurriedly from young Dr. Gardner's lips as, with horror-struck face he sprang from his window-seat and bounded downstairs.

And well might he hasten, for she who awaited his succor, hung perilously between heaven and earth, expecting every moment to be dashed to the ground.

For some minutes previous to his excited words, Weldon Gardner's gaze had been riveted in awful fascination upon an immense balloon that was fast descending toward the high roofs that clustered on all sides about his comfortable rooms on ---- St., New York.

Something was wrong. He could readily detect this in the unsteady wavering of the gaily-striped air-ship. And so, too, thought the crowd that he now saw had gathered in the street below.

Evidently the aeronaut had lost control of his craft. Lower still it tottered, and now were visible several arms outstretched in the vain appeal for aid.

Not a sound escaped the spell-bound multitude in the streets, for in a moment more the fate of the doomed adventurers must be decided. Suddenly two human forms dropped from the loosened basket and struck with a fearful thud against the elevated railway, then rebounded to the street below a mass of mangled flesh. Death was instantaneous. With one impulse the throng surged about the bodies; but Dr. Gardner's eyes were still fixed upon the balloon, for as if relieved by the rapid lightening of its burden it gave a spirited sweep upward, then passed over his own roof.

Hastening to his back windows, which overlooked a paved court, he threw himself into a chair, and strained his gaze in search of the wrecked pleasure-craft, to which one other figure clung with the might of desperation.

One large tree, spared by the pruning axe of the city architect, shaded the court; and into the wide-spreading boughs of this tree, did the powerless balloon now descend, its ropes becoming hopelessly entangled. Clinging fast to whatever offered support, a young girl with dark, terror-stricken eyes, met his look of horror, as with the reassuring words already quoted, Weldon Gardner rushed down to the rescue.

Even as he gained the spot, shouting to the men in service to bring a ladder, a number of persons had penetrated to the court, and were now collected around the tree, uttering excited comments upon the disaster.

With all possible speed the young physician reached the sufferer, but unconsciousness had already closed her eyes to all danger. Bearing the light form from the entangling meshes, the doctor ascended to his consulting-room, and deposited his burden upon a couch. Summoning his housekeeper, he dismissed the gaping followers, and proceeded to examine the death-like form he had preserved from mutilation.

The patient seemed to be about eighteen years old, and bore unmistakable evidences of the lady in her attire.

Mercifully forebearing to restore her senses till after his skillfull examination, the doctor could discover no broken limbs, and nothing now remained but to enable her to speak for herself as to her condition. After a persistent use of restoratives, the anxious attendants were rewarded by seeing the color flutter back into the pallid cheeks, and the long eyelashes quiver with returning life.

Her first words were: "Lucien! Maggie! we are lost!" Then a strong shudder convulsed her slight frame, and with a startled cry she attempted to spring up.

"Be careful," gently remonstrated the doctor, laying a detaining hand upon her. "Tell me--are you hurt anywhere?"

"I don't know--I think not--oh! who are you? Where am I? Where are the others? Were they killed? Oh! it was too horrible!" and the agitated speaker burst into a passion of tears so violent as to alarm her watchers.

Leaving her to the housekeeper, Dr. Gardner quickly prepared and administered a soothing potion. Then, enjoining absolute quiet, he drew the blinds, and proceeded downstairs to learn of the ill-fated companions of his patient. The crowd still lingered about the spot, although the bodies had been removed to await a claimant. Nothing was known except that the balloon had ascended that morning from one of the city squares, and that, as frequently happened, a party of young people had gone up to get a bird's eye view of the metropolis. Who they were did not yet appear.

Several hours passed, and still the rescued girl slept the dreamless sleep induced by the nervous shock and the narcotic draught of the doctor. Patiently the housekeeper sat and watched.

As twilight fell, she gave a sigh and opened her large eyes in surprise upon the strange face beside her. Taking advantage of the opportune moment, Mrs. Buford removed the pongee walking suit from the drowsy girl, and then gently enfolding her in a soft white wrapper, the kind matron assisted her to the bed which had been prepared, the girl submitting with a bewildered look of questioning wonder, and finally sinking back gratefully into slumber.

And here Weldon Gardner came before retiring for the night.

Softly touching the delicate wrist in its dainty frill, he noted the somewhat fitful pulsations of the disturbed life-centers. Bending above the tell-tale heart-beats, his practiced ear assured him that ere long the deep repose of his charge would effectually restore her to health.