Meg of Mystery Mountain

But they were glad to go, and Gerald would not agree to being left behind. He was given a small horse that was gentle and used to boys, as the grandson had claimed it as his own, and so they rode away, having left word for the girls that they would return as soon as possible.

In the mid-morning they reached the old abandoned stage road. “No one uses it now, that is, for legitimate purposes, as it is very dangerous. There are washouts and cutways that make it almost impassable for stage or for auto travel.” Then, pointing to the place where the road circled a high hill, Mr. Packard concluded: “Jean, can you see where yesterday’s cloudburst washed out the road? It has started a new canon that will have to be bridged, for now and then a tenderfoot autoist does get started on that old road, thinking that it leads to Redfords. Time and again we have put up signs on the main highway, but they are hurled down in the storms, I suppose.”

Dan had been intently tracing the old road until it was lost from sight. Suddenly he urged his horse forward to Mr. Packard’s side. “May I take the field glasses? I feel sure that I see a dark object moving along that old road and coming this way. You look first, though. Your eyes are better trained to these distances than mine.” Mr. Packard gazed long, then he turned to Jean. “Boy,” he said, “it looks like an auto moving slowly this way. If it ever starts on that down grade toward the washout there is going to be a tragedy.”

Jean was eagerly alert. “What shall we do, Mr. Packard? How can it be averted?”

The automobile had disappeared as the road circled behind a hill, but the watchers well knew that if it did not meet with disaster it would soon reappear above the washout and then be unable to stop because of the steep descent.

“Follow me!” Mr. Packard gave the brief order, and, urging his horse to its utmost speed, he led the way at what seemed to Gerald a breakneck pace. The small boy clung to his wiry little pony, which kept close behind the racing mustangs. It was evident to the boys that Mr. Packard was hoping to round the foot of the hill in time to shout a warning to the autoists before they began the descent which would prove fatal. It seemed a very long distance to Dan and he could not see how they possibly could make it. He kept his eyes constantly on the crest of the hill road, dreading the moment when the car would appear, there to plunge down to certain destruction. Mr. Packard rounded the foot of the hill first, whirled in his saddle, beckoned the boys to make haste, then disappeared, leaving his horse standing riderless. “What can that mean?” Dan asked, but Jean merely shook his head. In another moment they would know. When they, also, had rounded the hill, they saw that “ill fortune,” as autoists usually consider a blow-out, had befriended the travelers. The car had been stopped just as it had begun the ascent of the hill, on the other side of which sure death had awaited them.

Mr. Packard was seen breaking a trail through the underbrush. From time to time he hallooed, and the boys saw that at last he had been heard.

“It will be needless for us to make the climb,” Jean said, “since Mr. Packard will warn them,” and so the three boys awaited the man’s return.

“Who were they?” Jean inquired. Mr. Packard, removing his Stetson to wipe his brow, shook his head. “I do not know. Some family from the East trying to cross the Rockies. They could have done it easily enough if they had not taken the wrong road. The woman in the party is so utterly exhausted that I invited them to come to our place to rest. I showed them the road from the foot of the hill back of them. It certainly isn’t in good condition, but, being on the level, it at least will not be dangerous. The woman fainted when she heard how near death lurked ahead of them, but they’ll be all right now. We’ll inspect that old foothill corral some other day, Jean. These strangers have need of our friendly services.” Mr. Packard turned his horse’s head toward the ranch as he spoke and they all galloped back at a moderate speed.

“That was sort of an adventure, wasn’t it?” Gerald inquired hopefully.

Mr. Packard laughed heartily. “I certainly think it could be so classified,” he agreed. “I shudder to think what it would have been, however, if that tire had not halted them. We could not have reached them in time.”

Although it was not quite noon, the girls were up and dressed when the equestrians returned and were greatly interested in all that had happened. Gerald waxed eloquent as he told Julie the details, and that little girl, who hungered for adventure quite as much as her brother, hoped that if anything exciting happened again, she might be in the thick of it.

Mr. Packard retired to the kitchen to advise Sing Long, the cook, that four other guests were to arrive for lunch. Although that Chinaman’s reply was merely “Ally lite” the American interpretation of his pleased smile would be, “the more the merrier.” Guests were his joy that he might display the art at which he excelled.

An hour later a big, luxurious closed car limped into the ranch door-yard. Mr. Packard went out to greet the strangers in the same hospitable manner that he had greeted his friends. The girls on the wide porch saw a fine looking man with a Van Dyke beard assisting a simply though richly gowned woman from the car, then the front door was flung open! There was a joyful cry from a girl who leaped out and fairly raced up the front steps with arms out-held. “O Jane, Jane! How wonderful to find you here! We were looking for your cabin and that’s how we came to lose our way.”

“Marion Starr, of all things! I thought that you were in Newport!”

CHAPTER XXVIII

OLD FRIENDS

Jean, Dan and Gerald had gone at once to the corral with the four horses they had ridden and were still there (for Jean had much to show his guests) when the car arrived, and so the excitement was quite over when they at last sauntered around one corner of the porch.

There were four in the party of autoists, Mr. and Mrs. Robert Starr, Marion, and Bob, her young brother.

Jane at once took Merry to her room, while Julie accepted Meg’s invitation to wander about the gardens and make the acquaintance of the flowers. Mr. Packard had just returned from showing Mr. and Mrs. Starr to the guest room when the boys appeared. Bob Starr had lingered to look over the car, which was the pride of his heart, and so it was that he first met Jean, Dan and Gerald. Jean proved himself an expert mechanic, as was also Mr. Packard, and they promised the lad that directly after lunch they would assist him in putting his car in the best of shape.

Meanwhile Jane and Merry were telling each other all that had happened since last they had met.

“I simply can’t understand it in the least,” Jane declared for the tenth time. “To think that you deliberately gave up the opportunity to spend a whole summer in Newport to undergo the hardships of a cross-country motor trip.”

Merry dropped down in a deep easy chair and laughed happily. “Oh, I’ve loved it! Every hour of the trip has been fascinating. Of course I’m mighty glad Mr. Packard saved our lives, but even that was exciting.”

“But wasn’t your Aunt Belle terribly disappointed?”

“Why, no; not at all. There are steens of us in the Starr family. She just invited some other girl cousins. Aunt Belle is never so happy as when she is surrounded with gay young girls. Then, moreover, Esther Ballard couldn’t go. Her artist father had planned a tramping trip through Switzerland as a surprise for her and Barbara Morris decided to accompany them; so you and I would have been quite alone at Newport. But do tell me who is the girl to whom you introduced me when I first arrived? She is beautiful, isn’t she?”

Jane surely had changed in the past week, for her reply was sincere and even enthusiastic. “Merry, that girl is more than beautiful. She is wonderful! I want you to know her better. She has saved me from myself.” Then she laughingly arose, holding out both hands to assist her friend to her feet. “If you are rested, dear, come out on the porch. I want you to meet the nicest, well, almost the nicest boy I have ever known.”

Merry glanced up roguishly. “Are congratulations in order?”

Jane flushed prettily, though she protested: “You know they are not, Marion Starr! Romance is as far from my thoughts today as it ever was, but next to Dan, I do like Jean best.”

“Well, I certainly am curious to meet this paragon of a youth.” Merry gave her friend’s waist a little affectionate hug, then said: “I have a pretty nice brother of my own. He ought to be ready by now to be presented to my best friend.” Together they went toward the front door. “I know Bob must be nice,” Jane agreed, “since he is your twin.”

The girls appeared on the porch just as the boys had completed an inspection of the machine and so Jane’s “paragon,” with a smudge of grease on one cheek and smeared hands, laughingly begged Merry to pardon his inability to remove his hat. Before Marion could reply, her brother led her aside and talked rapidly and in a low voice, then returning he said in his pleasing manner: “Miss Abbott, you will pardon any seeming lack of courtesy on my part when I tell you there was something very important which I wished to say to my sister, and there is no time like the present, you know.”

Merry laughingly interrupted: “And now that you have made that long speech to Jane, it would be sort of an anti-climax, would it not, for me to formally introduce you? However, Jane, this is my wayward young brother Bob, whom I am endeavoring to bring up the way that he should go.” Jane held out a slim white hand, but, although she said just the right thing, her thoughts were busy. Something had happened that she did not understand.

Mrs. Starr rested that afternoon in one of the comfortable reclining chairs on the wide front porch. Mr. Starr was most interested in all that Mr. Packard had to show him, while the young people went for a horseback ride in merry cavalcade. Bob Starr was eager to see the washout, and decide for himself what chance of escape they might have had. Julie was overjoyed that this time she also might accompany the riders. A small spotted pony was chosen for her, as it was a most reliable little creature – sure-footed and gentle.

For a while Jane and Merry rode side by side, then Bob and Jean Sawyer, who for some time had ridden far back of the others, galloped up and rode alongside of the two girls, Bob next to Jane and Jean close to Merry.

There was a pang in the dark girl’s heart. She had noticed several times at lunch that Jean had glanced across at Marion Starr and had smiled at her when their eyes met. But the trail soon became too rough to permit four to ride abreast, and so Jean called: “Miss Starr, suppose you and I ride ahead and set the pace.”

Marion smiled at her friend. “That will give you and Bob a chance to become better acquainted,” she said, then urged her horse to a gallop, and away they went, Jean and Merry, laughing happily, and yet when they had quite outdistanced the rest, Jane noted that they rode more slowly and close together, as though in serious converse.

“They surely are becoming acquainted very rapidly,” the girl thought miserably. She had not realized until now how very much Jean Sawyer’s admiration had meant to her. Suddenly she felt so alone and looked back to find the brother who had always cared so much for her, but he also was completely engrossed in another girl, for Meg had dismounted to examine some growth by the trail, and Dan, standing at her side, was listening, as he gazed into her dusky eyes, with great evident interest. Jane sighed.

“I deserve it all,” she thought. “I have not been lovable, and so why should I expect to be loved?”

“Jean Sawyer seems to be a mighty fine chap,” her companion was saying. “Is he overseer of this cattle ranch?”

“Yes, I understand that is the position he fills,” Jane said, feeling suddenly very weary, and wishing that she could ride back to the ranch house. A fortnight before she would have done so, but now a thought for the happiness of others came to prevent such a selfish decision, for, of course, if Jane turned back, some of the others would also, for the lads were too chivalrous to permit her to ride alone. Bob, glancing at her, decided that she was not interested in his companionship, but for Merry’s sake he made one more effort at friendly conversation.

“I do not suppose, though, that so fine a chap and one so capable will remain forever in the position of an employee,” he ventured. “Do you know where he hails from?”

“No, I do not,” Jane replied. Then wishing to change the subject, she pointed toward a hill over which one lone vulture was swinging in wide circles. “There is the washout!” Merry and Jean were galloping back toward them.

The girl rode up to Jane as she said with a shudder: “Oh, I don’t want to go any closer! When I saw that wicked looking vulture and heard why he is circling there I could picture all too plainly what would have happened if we had been killed and – ”

It was seldom that Merry was so overcome. “Jane, do you mind riding back with me?” she pleaded. “I want to go to my mother.”

And so the two girls turned back toward the ranch house. They assured the others that they did not mind going alone. Jane noticed that Merry said nothing of the conversation that she had had with Jean Sawyer; in fact, she did not mention his name and neither did Jane. When they reached the ranch house Merry ran up the steps, and kneeling, she held her mother close. That sweet-faced woman smoothed the sunny hair of the girl she so loved, marveling at the unusual emotion, but when her daughter told her how much more vividly she could picture their escape, after she had seen the washout, and the vulture, the older woman understood. Jane, watching her friend, felt that something more than a view of the road where there might have been a tragedy was affecting her dearest friend, nor was she wrong.

Mr. Packard prevailed upon Mrs. and Mr. Starr to remain as his guests for at least another day, that the mother of Merry and Bob might become thoroughly rested before the return journey to the East, which was to be made by train, the automobile to be shipped back.

“O, Mrs. Starr, how I do wish you would permit Merry and Bob to visit us in our cabin on Redfords Peak,” Jane said when this decision had been reached. “Couldn’t they stay until we return East next month?”

Mrs. Starr looked inquiringly at her husband, but it was Merry who replied. “Not quite that long, dear,” she said, slipping an arm about her friend. “I very much want to be in New York on September the first.”

Just why she glanced quickly up at Jean Sawyer, a pretty flush tinting her cheeks, Jane could not understand. There was an actual pain in her heart, and she caught her breath quickly before she could reply in a voice that sounded natural: “Well, then, at least you and Bob can remain with us for two weeks and that will be better than not at all.”

The selfish side of Jane’s nature was saying to her: “Why urge Merry to remain, when, if she were to go, you could have Jean Sawyer’s companionship all to yourself?” But Jane had indeed changed, for she put the thought away from her as unworthy, and gave her friend a little affectionate hug when Mrs. Starr said that the plan was quite agreeable to her.

“Good! That’s great!” Dan declared warmly. Then he excused himself, for he saw Meg Heger returning with Julie from a “botany expedition” in the foothills.

The mountain girl smiled up at him in her frank way when he ran down the garden path toward them. “Have you news to tell us?” she inquired. “You’re looking wonderfully well these days, Daniel Abbott. I do not believe that your lungs were affected, after all.”

“Indeed, they were not!” The boy whirled to walk at Meg’s side, and as she smiled up at him in her good comradeship way, he was almost impelled to add, “But my heart is.” Instead, he laughed boyishly, and took the basket of specimens that the girl carried. Peeping under the cover, he exclaimed: “Why, if you haven’t taken them up, root and all.”

Meg nodded joyfully. “Wasn’t it nice of Mr. Packard to tell me that I might transplant them to my own botany gardens. Aren’t they the most exquisite star-like flowers and the most delicate pinks and blues?” Then, when the cover had been replaced, Meg lifted long-lashed, dusky eyes that were more serious. “Dan, do you suppose Jane would mind if I went home this afternoon? Think of it, in another fortnight I will be going to Scarsburg to take the entrance examinations for the normal, and kind old Teacher Bellows is giving me some special review work which I cannot afford to miss.”

“If you return, I will also,” the lad said; then, when he saw that his companion was about to protest, he hurriedly added: “Not because you need my protection, but because I wish to be with you.”

Meg gave no outward sign of having understood the deep underlying meaning of the words that she had heard, but the warmth in her heart assured her that she was glad, glad that Dan wanted to accompany her.

Gerald came bounding toward them, dressed still in his fringed cowboy suit. “Say, kids,” he shouted inelegantly, then looked rather sheepishly at Julie, as though he expected one of her grandmotherly rebukes, but hearing none, he blurted on: “We’re going to have a corn and potato roast for supper tonight. Won’t that be high jinks, though? Mr. Packard has a barbecue pit on the other side of the little lake. Oh. boy!” he continued, rubbing the spot where the feast would eventually be. “You bet you I’ll be there with bells!” Then, catching Julie by the hand, he raced with her to the corral, where they liked to look over the log fence at the horses and colts in the enclosure.

Dan smiled down at his companion. “Let us wait until morning and start at sunrise, shall we?” he suggested. “If we go this afternoon, our host might think that we do not appreciate his plans for our entertainment.”

Meg agreed willingly, little dreaming that so slight an incident was to make a vital change in her hitherto uneventful life.

CHAPTER XXIX

THE BARBEQUE

Julie and Gerald were hilariously excited as the hour of the roast approached. Mr. Packard had selected them as his aides, had made them a committee on arrangement. They took wood to the pit and then went with the ever-beaming Chinese gardener to the field where the corn grew, and they carried back between them a heavily laden basket. Then the long table near the lake that was sheltered by cottonwood trees was set with the plate and dishes found on every cattle ranch in reserve for round-ups and similar occasions when many are to be fed.

In the center Julie placed a huge bouquet of scarlet salvia and golden glow to make the table “extra-pretty,” and she put Meg’s name nearest the flowers, but, with the innocence of childhood, she put Dan’s name at the place directly opposite. When the guests were finally summoned, Julie’s big brother protested that he didn’t want to sit directly behind that huge bouquet because he couldn’t “see anything.” Julie looked perplexed. “Why, yes, you can so! You can see the foothills, and just lots of things.”

Then Gerald blurted out, “Silly, he can’t see Meg Heger, can he, when you’ve put her right across from the bouquet?”

How they all laughed, even Meg, and Mrs. Starr, glancing at the mountain girl, marveled at her beauty, and thought it quite natural that any lad would rather look at her than at a scarlet and gold bouquet.

Mr. Packard settled the matter by removing the huge centerpiece to a side table. “There, that’s heaps better!” Jean said as he smiled across at Marion. “Now I also have a better view of the foothills,” he added mischievously.

It was hard, cruelly hard for Jane, even though Bob Starr, who was seated next to her, tried his utmost to be entertaining. Bob was indeed puzzled. He was not at all conceited, but, up to the present, he had found even very attractive girls seeking, rather than spurning, his companionship.

“Icebergs aren’t in my line,” he decided, and turned toward little Julie, who was on his other side, and whose fresh enthusiasm was interesting, even to a lad several years her senior.

Merry noticed that her best friend did not eat with the same zest that was very apparent in the appetites of all the others, and, after a time, she suggested to Bob that he change seats with her. The table had just been cleared and Gerald had darted away with the Chinaman to bring on the generous slices of watermelon, and so the change was made very easily. Merry slipped a hand under the table and held Jane’s in a close, loving clasp. “Dear,” she said very softly, “you aren’t feeling well, are you? Shall we go back to the ranch house? I do not mind missing the watermelon.”

“No, thank you, Marion,” Jane’s voice, try as she might to make it sound natural, had in it a note of reserve that was almost cold. For the first time in the years that they had been so intimate, Jane had used the formal Marion. The friends who loved her always called her Merry. Something was wrong, radically wrong. Merry ate her slice of melon, wondering what it could possibly be, and finally decided that if Jane’s manner remained unchanged throughout the evening, she would accompany her mother to the East on the following day.

“There is going to be a wonderful moon tonight,” Mr. Packard said, “Why don’t you young people climb the foothill trail and watch it rise?”

“That’s a good suggestion!” Jean Sawyer at once offered to lead the expedition. Then, as everyone had arisen, he went to the two girls, who were seated together, and said with a smile which included them both, “Shall we three go ahead?”

But Jane replied, “You and Merry may go. I have one of my sick headaches. I shall go to bed at once.” Jean Sawyer looked at the girl almost sadly. Then he said quietly, “I am sorry, Jane. May I walk back to the house with you?”

“I thank you, no!” The girl’s haughty manner was in evidence. Then going to Mr. Packard, she asked to be excused and walked quickly around the little lake. Merry watched her thoughtfully, then turning to her companion, she said, “Jean, I think I understand. May I tell her our secret now – tonight?”

The boy assented eagerly. “I shall be glad to have Jane know,” he said. Then Merry also excused herself and followed her friend.

CHAPTER XXX

JEAN SAWYER’S SECRET

Jane, going to the deserted ranch house, threw herself down on her bed and sobbed heart-brokenly. She did not hear the tap on the door, nor was she conscious that Merry had entered until she heard her voice: “Jane, dear, have I done anything to hurt you, to make you unhappy?” The tenderness in the tone of her best friend was unmistakable. All at once Jane felt ashamed of herself. Holding out a fevered hand, she said: “Indeed not, dear girl. It isn’t your fault at all. Any boy would like you better than me. You are so sweet and unselfish and lovable.” Merry’s eyes widened, for she was indeed perplexed, “Jane, I don’t understand,” she said. “What boy likes me better than he does you?” Then, slowly a light dawned. Taking both hot hands in her own, she cried, her blue eyes glowing, “Oh, Jane, dearest Jane, did you think that Jean Sawyer cared for me? Did you think for one moment that I, knowing how much you liked him, would even want him to care for me? Indeed not, Janey! But now that I think about it, I realize that you might misunderstand. Dear, it’s a long story. Let’s go out on the veranda in the moonlight. There is no one around. They all went up the foothill trail and will be gone for an hour.”

Jane permitted herself to be led to a vine-sheltered corner of the veranda, where they sat close together in a hammock swing. Merry piled the soft cushions behind her friend, whose flushed face assured her that the head was really aching. Jane sighed as she sank back among them, but it was a sigh of relief. How wrong it had been to doubt for one moment the loyalty of this, her very best friend. But Merry was beginning the story. “Dear,” she said, placing a cool hand on the hot one near her, “when you first introduced me to Jean Sawyer, did you notice that my brother Bob drew me away to whisper something to me before I could acknowledge the introduction?”

Jane nodded, both curious and interested. “Why did Bob do that? I wondered at the time.” Merry continued: “I was just about to exclaim, ‘Why, Jean Sawyer Willoughby, so this is where you disappeared to when you left home last February!’ but I did not, for Bob gave me no time. What he whispered was, ‘Don’t let on you know Jean. He wants his identity kept in the dark. He is using his mother’s maiden name. Get the cue?’