Dorothy on a House Boat Part 20

But it was Gerald who now suffered most. Because the morning had been so warm he had put on a white duck suit. He fancied himself in it and it was becoming; but it was also thin, and under present circ.u.mstances a costume of torment. If Melvin were s.h.i.+vering, Gerald was worse. He was shaking so that the ricketty wagon rattled and he felt as if he were dying.

"Oh! man alive! Don't act the tyrant this way! Tell us where you live and I give you my word of honor I'll go to your place the first thing to-morrow and settle. I'll even pay double," begged Jim; and when the farmer remained obstinately silent, leaped from the wagon and dragged Gerald after him. "Run, run! You'll get warm that way! Run, I tell you, for your life!"

But the poor lad couldn't. He sank down upon the wet earth and was fast lapsing into unconsciousness when the lash of the teamster's whip fell smartly about him.

"I'll warm you, ye young scamp! Cheat an honest man of his earnin's, will you?"

But the whip went no further. With a yell as of some enraged animal, Jim flew at the man and gathered all the strength of his labor-trained muscles for one fierce onslaught.

CHAPTER XI.

A MORNING CALL OF MONKEYS.

Then a mighty din arose. With an answering yell the half-drunken teamster flew at his a.s.sailant, using his whip continually, but not wisely, for both wrath and liquor blinded him. Else would the result have been worse for Jim.

The startled Cap'n Jack tossed his crutches out of the wagon and recklessly tumbled after them; then picked them up to lay about him in an aimless effort to subdue the fighters. But he managed to hit n.o.body for, as he afterward stated, "they didn't stan' still long enough."

Shrieking for peace Melvin jumped to the ground, upsetting the cage of monkeys, whose frantic yells and jabberings added a strange note to the racket, until their own wild antics forced their cage out of the wagon. Then, terrified by their fall, they became quiet enough till the Captain caught the bars of their little prison-house on his crutches and tossed it out of the way of the feet of the mules, which were also becoming excited.

Still pleading uselessly for peace, Melvin managed to drag poor Gerald out of the road to a safer place, then warmed himself by seeking to warm his poor friend. So engaged did he become in trying to reanimate the motionless form that he scarcely heard what was going on about him or knew when the frightened mules set out on a lively trot for home, leaving their owner behind them but carrying away the row-boat, well strapped to the wagon-box.

Then suddenly, upon the uproar of angry voices, jabbering monkeys, the rumble of the disappearing wagon, and the screeching of an owl in the tree-top, broke another sound. A man came merrily whistling out of the woods, his gun over his shoulder, his dog at his heels.

"Shut up, Towse! What in Bedlam's here!" cried the newcomer, running up. A moment later, when he had recognized the befused and battered teamster, demanding: "Who you fightin' with now, By Smith? Never really at peace 'cept when ye're rowin', are ye?"

This salutation surprised the contestants into quiet, and the man addressed as "By" laughed sheepishly, and picked his hat out of the mud. Then he turned and discovered the loss of his wagon. At this his fury burst forth again and he slouched upon poor Cap'n Jack with uplifted fists and the demand:

"Whe's my team at, you thief? You stole my wagon! What you done with my wagon you----"

But a hand laid across his lips prevented his saying more.

"There, there, Byny, that'll do. Lost your wagon, have you? Well, it serves you right. A fellow that takes the pledge 's often as you do an' breaks it as often. Now, sober up, or down, and tell what all this rumpus means and who these folks are."

There was something very winning about this newcomer, with his frank manner and happy face, which smiled even while he reproved, but no words can well describe the utter carelessness of his attire and his general air of a ne'er-do-well. The lads, Melvin and Jim, began to explain, but a lofty wave of the cripple's crutch bade them yield that point to him.

"I'm Cap'n Jack Hurry, of the Water Lily; a yacht cruisin' these here waters an'--an'----"

The excited old man paused. The man with the gun was laughing! As for that he, Cap'n Jack, saw nothing laughable in the present situation.

"Cruising in the woods, you mean, eh? Good enough! Haven't tumbled out of a balloon, have ye? Look 's if ye'd got soused, anyhow, and 'd ought to get under cover."

Then Jim took up the tale and in a moment had explained all. He finished by asking:

"Is there any house near where we can take this boy? He's been overcome with the wet and has done a lot of rowin', to-day, that he ain't used to. Is it far to Deer-Copse?"

"Yes, a good mile or more. But my house ain't so far. We'll take him right there. Fetch some them saplings piled yonder. Get that blanket's tumbled out By's wagon. Fix a stretcher, no time."

Laziness seemed stamped all over this man's appearance but he wasn't lazy now. It seemed he might have often made such stretchers as this he so promptly manufactured by tying the four corners of the blanket upon the crossed saplings. The blanket was wet, of course, but so was poor Gerald; and in a jiffy they had laid him upon it and started off through the woods.

The hunter carried the head of the stretcher by hands held behind him and Jim the foot. Melvin courageously shouldered the cage of monkeys which he would gladly have left behind save for Gerald's partners.h.i.+p in them. The Cap'n wearily stumped along behind, sodden and forlorn, more homesick than ever for his old city haunts.

"Byny" was left behind, his fare still uncollected, to trudge home on foot to his belated milking. Even the lads who had been so furious against him had now utterly forgotten him in this prospect of shelter and help for Gerald. His condition frightened his mates. Neither knew much about illness and nothing of Gerry's really frail const.i.tution, nor that it had been mostly on his account the Water Lily had been built.

"My name's Cornwallis Stillwell. Corny I'm called. That was my brother Wicky--Wickliffe, I mean--that tugged you up the Branch. He--he's as smart as I ain't. Ha, ha! But what's the odds? He likes workin', I like loafin' an' 'invitin' my soul', as the poets say. All be the same, a hundred years from now. Won't make a mite of odds to the world whether I hunt 'possums or he ploughs 'taters. I live on his farm an'

Lucetty runs it, along with the kids. Wicky calls it mine, 'cause it was my share of father's property. But it ain't. It's only his good brotherliness make him say it. We et it up ages ago. Bit at it by way of mortgages, you know, till now there ain't a mouthful lef'. I mean, they can't another cent be raised on it. It's Wicky's yet, but I'm afraid it'll sometime be Dr. Jabb's. Wicky holds a mortgage on me, body and soul, and Doc holds one on Wicky, and so it's a kind of Peter-and-Paul job. Be all right in a hundred years and there ain't a man in old Maryland nor Anne Arundel can hold a taller candle to my brother Wickliffe Stillwell, nor a wax one, either. I can talk, can't I? So can he--when he can catch anybody an' make 'em listen. Here we be--most. That's my castle yonder. Hope Lucetty ain't asleep. If she is, she'll wake up lively when she hears my yodel. Nicest woman in the world, Lucetty. A pleasin' contrast to Lizzie, Wicky's wife. That woman'd drive _me_ crazy but she suits him."

All this information had not been given at once, but at intervals along the way through the forest where the travelling was smooth. But rough or smooth, the path had been a direct one, swiftly yet gently followed by this good Samaritan of the wilderness; and now, as he gave that warning cry he boasted, a light appeared in the windows of the whitewashed cabin they approached and, roused by the musical, piercing signal, Gerald stirred faintly on his litter.

"Comin' to! Good enough! I knew he would, soon's he came within hailing distance of Lucetty!"

Seen by moonlight the humble dwelling looked rather pretty, so gleaming was its whitewash and so green the vines that clambered about its door. In reality it had once been negro quarters, a low ceiled cabin of three rooms--and a pig-pen! The latter a most important feature of this home.

Following the candle-light a woman appeared. She was slender to emaciation and her face almost colorless; but a beautiful smile habitually hovered about the thin lips and the blue eyes were gentle and serene. Evidently, she was among the poorest of the poor of this earth, but, also, the happiest.

"Why, Corny, dear! Back so soon? And you've brought me company I see.

They are welcome, sure, but--what's wrong here?"

Stepping outside the woman bent above Gerald and earnestly studied his face. Then she swiftly turned, ordering:

"Fetch him right in. Lay him there. Somebody light the kindlings in the stove. One of you fetch a pail of water from the well. Pour it into that tea-kettle, get it hot soon's possible. Corny, fetch your good s.h.i.+rt. Haul that 'comfort' off the children's bed--it's warm from their little bodies, bless 'em! Now help me get these wet things off and dry ones on. Soon's the water boils make a cup of ginger tea.

Thank goodness there's enough ginger left in the can. Don't know how?

Corny, you darling, you grow stupider every day! Hear me! One teaspoonful of ginger to the blue bowl of water. Hot as he can drink it. Look in the crock and see if there's a single lump of sugar left.

No? Then those blessed children have been into it again and the poor fellow'll have to drink his dose without."

Swift as the directions were given they were obeyed, yet there was not the slightest confusion or excitement. Jim and Melvin watched from the wooden bench against the wall while Cap'n Jack hovered over the broken stove, deriving what comfort he could from the blaze of kindlings within. He would have added a stick of wood from a near-by pile, but the master of the house laughed and shook his head.

"Can't waste anything while Lucetty's around. Why, that woman can make a kettle boil with just one blazing newspaper under it. Fact!"

"That's all right, Corny, dear, but you'd best add 't it was a big paper and a mighty little kettle. Now, that's real nice. Your good s.h.i.+rt fits him to a T! And the 'comfort's' a comfort indeed to his chilled body. Aye, my boy, you're all right now. You're visitin' in Corny Stillwell's house and you'll be taken care of. Lie right still, I mean hold your head up if you can and swallow some this nice ginger tea. Set your circulation going quick. You've had a right smart duckin' but you're young and 'twon't harm you. What? Don't like it?

Foolish boy! Come here, one you others, or both. They's enough in this bowl for all of you, that old officer into the bargain. Have a swallow, Commodore?"

How this wise little woman chanced to hit upon the very t.i.tle dearest to this old vagrant's heart is a puzzle; but he beamed upon her as she said it and drained the last contents of the bowl without a shudder, even though most of the ginger had settled there and stung his throat to choking.

The bed upon which his hosts had placed Gerald was their own, and stood in one corner of the front room which was, also, kitchen, dining-room and parlor. It was of good size, with a rag carpet on its earthen floor and well ventilated by cracks between the clap-boarded sides. There were holes in the carpet and the Captain's crutch caught in one, and lifted it, revealing the earth beneath. Seeing him look at it prompted the hostess to explain:

"We're going to put down boards, sometime, when Corny dear can get them and the time to fix them. The little rough spots and rents are from the children's feet. They are such active little things, especially Saint Augustine."

Then she looked at her husband inquiringly and he nodded his head in approval. After which he disappeared into the third room, or lean-to, and was gone some time. When he returned he had a well-worn pewter tray in hand upon which he had arranged with careful exactness four chunks of cold supp.a.w.n and four tin cups of b.u.t.termilk. These he pa.s.sed to his guests with a fine air of hospitality, and they accepted the offering in the same courteous spirit. All except Gerald, who had fallen asleep and whose portion was set aside till he should wake.

Melvin choked over the tasteless cold pudding and the very sour b.u.t.termilk, but he would have choked still more and from a different cause had he suspected that he was helping to eat the family breakfast, for want of which six healthy youngsters would go hungry on the coming day.

Presently, Mrs. Lucetta rose and blew out the candle. Jim's early training in poverty told him that its burning longer was an "extravagance" when there was such brilliant moonlight to take its place, and that his hostess felt it such. Also, reminded him that they should be leaving this hospitable house if they were to reach the Water Lily that night. Only, what about Gerald?

Rising, he asked:

"Mr. Stillwell, can you show us the way to Deer-Copse, or tell us I mean? Our house-boat must be there and our folks'll be anxious.