Ruth Fielding Down in Dixie Part 20

Mr. Jimson came running from the interior of the warehouse and shouted after him.

"There! I hope we haven't got him into more trouble," mourned Ruth.

"And he can't get the cat," wailed Helen, in a moment. "The current is taking the raft clear out into midstream."

Curly was working vigorously with the single sweep, however, and he finally brought the c.u.mbersome craft to the edge of the eddy where the hencoop with its frightened pa.s.senger whirled under the high bank.

"Yo' kyant git that cat, you fool boy!" bawled Jimson. "And yo'll lose my raft."

"Oh, Mr. Jimson!" cried Nettie. "We do want him to save that cat if he can."

"But he'll lose a mighty good oar, an' that raft," complained the boss.

"Never mind," said Nettie, firmly. "You can make another oar and another raft. But how are you going to make another cat?"

"I'll be whip-sawed!" exclaimed the long and lanky man. "Who ever heard the like of that? There's enough cats come natcher'lly without n.o.body's wantin' t' make none."

The girls laughed at this, but they were anxious about the cat. And, the next moment, they began to be anxious about the boy.

Curly threw away the oar and plunged right into the eddy. He had little clothing on, and no shoes, so he was not greatly trammeled in swimming to the drifting hencoop. But once there, how would he get the cat ash.o.r.e?

However, the boy went about his task in quite a manful manner. He climbed up, got one arm hooked over the roof and reached for the wet and frightened cat. The poor creature was so despairing that she could not even use her claws in defense, and Curly pulled her off her perch and set her on his shoulder.

There she clung trembling, and when Curly let himself down into the water again she only uttered a wailing, "Me-e-ou!" and did not try to scratch him. He struck out for the sh.o.r.e, keeping his shoulders well out of the water, and after a fight of a minute or two, brought the cat to land.

Once within reach of the land, the cat leaped ash.o.r.e and darted into the bushes; while Jimson helped the breathless Curly to land.

"There! yo' reckless creatuah!" exclaimed the man. "I've seen folks drown in a current no worse than that. Stan' up an' make yo' bow t' Miss Nettie, here," and he turned to Nettie, who had got out of the carriage in her interest.

Ruth and Helen stayed back. They did not wish to thrust themselves on the notice of Curly Smith. Nettie told Jimson to see that the saturated boy had a new outfit.

"And don't let him get away till Aunt Rachel returns from Charleston and sees him. She'll want to do something for him, I know," she added.

The boy glanced shyly up at the girls and suddenly caught sight of Ruth and Helen in the background. Like a shot he wheeled and ran into the bushes.

"Oh! catch him!" gasped Ruth. "Don't let him run away, Mr. Jimson."

"He's streakin' it for my shack, I reckon," said the boss. "Mis Jimson'll find him some old duds of mine to put on."

"But maybe he won't come back," said Helen, likewise anxious.

"Ya-as he will. I ain't paid him fo' his wo'k here," chuckled Jimson.

"He'll stay a while longah. Don't fret about that."

Nettie got back into the carriage, which went on toward the bridge. As they crossed the long span the girls saw that the current was roaring between the piers and that much rubbish was held upstream by the bridge.

The bridge shook under the blows of the logs and other debris which charged against it.

"My! this is dangerous!" cried Helen. "Suppose the bridge should give way?"

"Then we would not get home very easily," laughed Nettie.

It was not a laughing matter, however, when they came later to the shorter span that bridged the back water between the island where the hotel was situated, and the sh.o.r.e of the river. Here the rough current was level with the plank flooring of the bridge, and as the carriage rattled over, the girls could feel that the planks were almost ready to float away.

"We'll be marooned on this island," said Ruth, "if the water rises much higher."

"Who cares?" laughed Nettie, to whom it was all an exciting adventure and nothing more. With all her natural timidity she did not look ahead very far.

Jeffreys and the footman were in a hurry to get back. The instant the girls and their little maid got out at the hotel steps, the coachman turned the horses and hastened away.

A little, smiling woman in a trailing gown came down the steps to welcome the party from Merredith. "I am Mrs. Holloway," she said. "I am glad to see you, girls. Jake reached here about an hour ago and said Mrs. Parsons could not come. It is to be deplored; but it need not subtract any from your pleasure on the occasion.

"Come in-do," she added. "I will show you to your rooms."

CHAPTER XVI-THE "HOP"

It was not a large hotel, and altogether it could not have housed more than fifty guests. But in the dusk, as the girls from Merredith had ridden over in the carriage, they could see that there were several attractive cottages on the island. There was a deal of life about the caravansary.

Now there was just time for Ruth Fielding and her friends to take a peep in the mirror before running down at the sound of the dinner gong to take the places Mrs. Holloway had pointed out to them in the dining room.

The other guests came trooping in from the porches and from their rooms-most of the matrons and young girls already in their party frocks, like the girls from Merredith. Mrs. Holloway found an opportunity to introduce the trio of friends to several people, while Nettie Parsons was already known to many of the matrons present.

The affair was to begin early. Indeed, the girls heard the fiddles tuning up before dinner was ended.

"Oh! hear that fiddle. Doesn't it make your feet fairly _itch_?" cried Nettie. Nettie, like most Southern girls, loved dancing.

There were some Virginia reels and some square dances, and all, old and young, joined in these. The reels were a general romp, it was true; but the fun and frolic were of the most harmless character.

The master of ceremonies called out the changes in a resonant voice and all-old and young-danced the square dance with hearty enjoyment. The girls from the North had never seen quite such a party as this; but they enjoyed it hugely. They were not allowed to be without partners for any dance; and the boys introduced to Ruth and Helen were nice and polite and-most of them-danced well.

"Learning to dance seems to be more common among Southern boys than up North," Helen said. "Even Tom says he _hates_ dancing. And it's sometimes hard to get good partners at the school dances at Briarwood."

"I think we have our boys down here better trained," said Nettie, smiling.

The girls heard, as the time pa.s.sed, several people expressing their wonder that certain guests from the mainland had not arrived. The dancing floor, which occupied more than half the lower floor of the hotel, was by no means crowded, although every white person on the island was in attendance-either dancing or looking on.

At the back, the gallery was crowded with blacks, their s.h.i.+ning faces thrust in at the windows to watch the white folk. In fact, the whole population of Holloway Island was at the hotel.

The last few guests who had arrived from the cottages came under umbrellas as it had begun to rain again. When the fiddles stopped they could hear the drumming of the rain on the porch roofs.

"I'm glad we aren't obliged to go home to-night," said Nettie, with a little s.h.i.+ver, as she stood with her friends near a porch window during an intermission. "Hear that rain pouring down!"

"And how do you suppose the bridges are?" asked Helen.

"There! I reckon that's why those folks from the other sh.o.r.e didn't get here," Nettie said. "I shouldn't wonder if the planks of the old bridge had floated away."