Meg of Mystery Mountain

Jane turned away impatiently. Was she never to be through with hearing about Meg Heger? “Brother,” the manner in which she interrupted the conversation was almost rude, “isn’t that the stage returning? I am so tired, I do want to get up to our cabin.” She started to cross the street. Dan quickly joined her. He did not rebuke her for not having said goodbye to the teacher.

“He’s a nice man, isn’t he, Dan?” Gerald skipped along by his brother’s side as he spoke. “He loves mountain people, doesn’t he?”

Dan smiled down at the eager questioner. “Why, of course, he must, if he practices what I suppose he preaches; the brotherhood of man.”

“Well, I certainly don’t want to claim people like the ones we have met in Redfords as any kin of mine,” Jane snapped as they all crossed to the stage that awaited them. Again the four white horses drooped their heads and the driver slouched on his high seat, as though at every opportunity they took short naps. But the horses came to life when the driver snapped his long whip and with much jolting they forded the stream.

“Oh, my; I’m ’cited as anything!” Julie squealed. “Wish something, Gerald, ’cause this is the first time we’ve ever been up our very own mountain road.”

“There’s just one thing to wish for,” the small boy said with the seriousness which now and then made him seem older than his years, “and that’s that Dan will get well. What do you wish, Jane?”

“Why, the same thing, of course,” the girl replied languidly.

Gerald continued his questioning. “What do you wish, Dan?”

The boy thought for a moment and then he exclaimed, “I have a wonderful thing to wish. Wouldn’t it be great if we could find the lost gold vein on our very own ten acres? Then Dad could pay the rest that he owes and be free from all worry?”

“Me, too,” Julie cried jubilantly. “Now, we’ve all wished and here we go up the mountain.”

The road was narrow. In some places it was barely wide enough for the stage to pass, and, as Jane looked back and down, she shuddered many times.

At last, when nothing happened and the old stage did stick to the road, Jane consented to look around at the majestic scenery, about which the others were exclaiming. Beyond the gorge-like valley in which was Redfords, one mountain range towered above another, while many peaks were crowned with snow, dazzling in the light of the sun that was now high above them.

The air was becoming warmer, but it was so wonderfully clear that even things in the far distance stood out with remarkable detail.

At a curve, Gerald pointed to the road where it circled above them. “Gee-whiliker! Look-it!” he cried excitedly. “How that boy can ride.” The others, turning, saw a pony which seemed to be running at breakneck speed, but as the stage appeared around the bend, the small horse was halted so suddenly that it reared. When it settled back on all fours, the watchers saw that, instead of a boy, the rider was a girl, slender of build, wiry, alert. She drew to one side close to the mountain, to permit the stage to pass. She wore a divided skirt of the coarsest material, a scarlet blouse but no hat. Her glossy black wind-blown hair fluttered loosely about her slim shoulders. Her dusky eyes looked curiously out at them from between long curling lashes. Dan thought he had never before seen such wonderful eyes, but it only took a moment for the stage to pass.

They all turned to look down the road. The pony was again leaping ahead as sure-footed, evidently, as a mountain goat, the girl leaning low in the saddle. Jane’s lips were curled scornfully. “Well, if that is their mountain beauty, I think they have queer taste! She looked to me very much like an Indian, didn’t she to you, Dan?”

The boy replied frankly: “I should say she might be Spanish or French, but I do indeed think she is wonderfully beautiful. I never saw such eyes. They seem to have slumbering soul-fires just waiting to be kindled. I should like to hear her talk.”

Jane shrugged her shoulders. “Well, I certainly should not. I have heard enough of this mountain dialect, if that’s what you call it, to last me the rest of my life. I simply will not make the acquaintance of that – Oh, it doesn’t matter what she is – ” she hurried on to add when she saw that Dan was about to speak. “I don’t want to know her, and do please remember that, all of you!”

“Gee, sis,” Gerald blurted out, “you don’t like the West much, do you? I s’pose you wish you had stayed at home or gone to that hifalutin watering place.”

Jane bit her lips to keep from retorting angrily. Julie was still watching the small horse that now and then reappeared as the zigzagging mountain road far below them came in sight.

“That girl’s going to school, I guess. Though I should think it would be vacation time, now it’s summer,” she remarked.

“I rather believe that winter is vacation time for mountain schools. It’s mighty cold here for a good many months and the roads are probably so deep in snow that they are not passable.”

Dan had just said this when Gerald, who had been kneeling on the seat, watching intently ahead, whirled toward them with a cry of joy. “There’s our log cabin on that ledge up there! I bet you ’tis! Gee-whiliker, we’re stopping. Hurray! It’s ours.”

CHAPTER XII

THE ABBOTT CABIN

It was quite evident that the picturesque log cabin which nestled against the side of the mountain on a wide, overhanging ledge was indeed their own. The road curved about twenty feet below it, and crude steps had been hewn out of the rocks. The small boy tumbled out of the stage almost before it came to a standstill.

“Oh, Julie, look-it, will you! We’ve got a real stairway leading right up to our front door. I’ll beat you to the cabin.”

Julie, equally excited, scurried up after her brother and reached the top almost as soon as he did. Then they turned and shouted joyfully to the two below them: “Jane! Dan! Look at us! We’re top of the world.”

“Oh, boy!” Gerald capered about, unable to stand still. “I’m glad I came. I bet you, Julie, we’ll have a million adventures, maybe more.” But Dan was calling and so they scampered back down the rocky flight of stairs.

The older lad laughed at their enthusiasm. “I know just how you feel,” he told them. “If I weren’t afraid of shocking your sedate sister here, I believe I would – well – I don’t know just what I would do.”

“Stand on your head,” Gerald prompted. “Do it, Dan. I’ll dare you.”

But the older boy was needed just then to tell the surly driver where the trunks were to be put. “Let me help you, Mr. Wallace.” Dan made an attempt to take one end of a trunk, but the husky man, with the unchangeable countenance, merely grunted his dissent, and swinging a trunk up on his broad shoulders, he began the ascent of the steep stone stairs quite as though it were not a herculean task.

Dan followed. “Just leave them on the porch until we get our bearings,” he directed. “We can move them in after we have unpacked.” Then, from the loose change that he had in his pocket, he paid the man. A few moments later the stage rumbled on its way up the road, which circled the mountain and then descended to a hamlet in the valley on the other side.

As soon as the four young Abbotts were alone, Dan, slipping an arm about Jane, exclaimed: “Think of it, sister! Isn’t it almost beyond comprehension that we have such magnificence right in our front door-yard.” He took a long breath. The pine trees, though not large, were spicily fragrant. Then, whirling toward her, he caught both of her hands, and there were actually tears in his eyes as he said, “Jane, I’m going to live! I know that I am!”

Selfish as the girl was, she could not but respond to her brother’s enthusiasm. The younger children had raced away on a tour of discovery. Their excited voices were heard exclaiming about something they had discovered beyond the cabin. Clear and high Gerry’s voice rang out: “Dan, Jane, come quick! We’ve found Roaring Creek, and it isn’t making a terrible lot of noise at all.”

But the older boy had noted the extreme weariness on his sister’s face. He well knew that she had sacrificed herself to come to a country which did not appeal to her; where she had to meet people whom she considered far beneath her, and she had done it all to help him get well. Instantly the boy decided that he would make Jane’s comfort his first care, that her stay with him might be as pleasant as possible, and so he called back: “After a time, Gerald. Come on; I’m going to unlock the door. Don’t you want to see what’s on the inside of our cabin?”

“Oh, boy, don’t I, though!” Gerry, closely followed by Julie, raced back to the wide front porch, which was made of logs. Dan took from his satchel a very large key and holding it up, he called merrily, “The key to health and happiness.”

“You left out something,” Gerry prompted. “It’s health, wealth and happiness. Maybe we’ll find that lost mine, who knows?”

Dan merely laughed at that. “Now,” he said, as he put the key in the lock, “what do you suppose we’ll find on the other side of this door?”

What they saw delighted the hearts of three of the young people. A large log cabin room with a long window on either side of the door. At the back was a crude fireplace made of rocks. There was no window on that side of the room, as a wall of the mountain came so close to the cabin that there would have been no view.

The rafters were logs with the bark still on, and the furniture had been made of saplings. There were leather cushions in the chairs, but the thing that made Gerald caper about, mad with joy, was a bearskin on one of the walls.

“Oh, look-it, will you, Dan? What kind of a bear is it? Do you think it is a grizzly, and do you s’pose it’s that one Dad said came right down here to our ledge? Do you, Dan?”

The older boy looked at the rather small bearskin and shook his head.

“No, it isn’t a grizzly,” he said. “I think it is the skin of a black bear. But here is another on the floor in front of the fireplace. That’s Dad’s bear, I remember now. This old fellow was the grizzly who was unfortunate enough to come down here to try to help himself to Dad’s supplies.”

Jane had dropped wearily into a big chair that really was comfortable with its leather-covered cushions, and Dan, noting how tired she was, exclaimed:

“Jane, I’ll unlock the packing trunk and get out some of the bedding, and if you wish, you may lie down for a while. Dad said there were two good beds here and several cots.”

Gerald and Julie had darted through a door at one side and, reappearing, they beckoned to their big brother.

“We’ve found one of ’em,” the younger lad announced. “It’s in a dandee room! I bet you Jane will choose it for hers.”

Then Julie chimed in with: “Jane, please come and see it.”

The older girl, who was feeling terribly sorry for herself, rose languidly and went with the small sister. The boys followed.

“Why, what a nice room this is!” Dan, truly pleased, remarked. Then anxiously, and in his voice there was a note that was almost imploring, he asked: “Jane, dear, don’t you think you can be comfortable in here?”

The girl’s heart was touched by the tone more than the words, and she turned away that she might not show how near, how very near, she had been to crying out her unhappiness. It was hardship to her to be in a log cabin where there were none of the luxuries and conveniences to which she had been used. She smiled at her brother, but he saw her lips tremble. He was tempted to tell her to go back to civilization, since it was all going to be so hard for her, but something prompted him to wait one week. Inwardly he resolved: “If Jane is not happy here by one week from today, I am going to insist that she return to Newport and to the friend Merry for whom she cares so much.”

But Jane, too, had been making a resolve, and so when she spoke her voice sounded more cheerful.

“It is a nice room,” she said. “That wide window has a wonderful view of the mountains and the valley.” It was hard to keep from adding, “If anyone cares for such a view, which I do not.”

But instead she looked up at the rafters. “What are those great bundles that are hanging up there?” she inquired.

Dan laughed. “Why, those bundles, Dad said, contain the mattress and bedding which he and mother stored away. They are wrapped in canvas and so he expected that we would find them in good condition.”

“But how are we to get them?” Julie wanted to know.

Gerald’s quick eyes found the answer to that.

“Look-it!” he cried, pointing. “There’s a ladder nailed right against the back wall. I’ll skin up that in two jiffs. Give me your knife, Dan. I’ll cut the ropes.”

The boy was soon sliding along a rafter. “Out of the way down below there!” he shouted the warning. “Here they come!”

There was a soft thud, followed by another as the two great bundles fell to the floor. An excellent mattress was in one of them and clean warm blankets in the other.

“Now, I’ll get the sheets from the packing trunk and a pillow case, and in less than no time at all we’ll have a fine bed in our lady’s chamber.”

Dan led Jane to another large comfortable though rustic chair as he said:

“The rest of us are going to pretend that you are a princess today and we are going to wait upon you. By tomorrow, when you have had a long sleep, perhaps you will want to be a mountain girl.”

Again there was the yearning note in his voice. How he hoped that Jane would want to stay, but a week would tell.

Jane was quite willing to pretend that she was a princess and be waited upon, and so half an hour later, when the bed in her room was made, she consented to lie down and try to make up the many hours of sleep that she had lost on the train. Hardly had her head touched the pillow before she was sound asleep. Two of her windows, that swung inward, were wide open and a soft mountain breeze wafted to her the scent of the pines. Even though she was not conscious of it, the peace of the mountains was quieting her restless soul. She had supposed that, as soon as she were alone, she would sob out her unhappiness, but her weariness had been too great, and not a tear had been shed.

Julie reported that Jane had gone right to sleep and Dan’s face brightened. Surely his sister-pal would feel better when she awakened and how could she help loving it all, so high up on their wonderful mountain.

The younger children had gone on another trip of exploration, and soon burst back into the big living-room with the information that on the other side of the cabin there were two smaller bedrooms and a real kitchen.

Dan held up a warning hand and framed the word “quiet” with his lips, and so the excited children took his hands and dragged him from the deep easy chair where he had sought to rest for a moment and showed him what lay behind the two doors on the other side of the cabin. “Aren’t these little bedrooms the cunningest?” Julie whispered. “See the front one has a bed in it like Jane’s and the other has the cot. But there are three of us, so what shall we do?” Julie’s brown eyes were suddenly serious and inquiring.

“That’s easy!” Dan told her. “Dad said there were several cots. See, there they are, hanging up on the rafters. I shall take one of those and put it out on the wide front porch. That’s where I want to sleep. I don’t want to be shut in by walls. And Julie may have this pretty front room with the bed and Gerald the other. Now, let’s get them made up, just as quietly as we can. Then we will unpack the supplies that you got from the store, Julie, and prepare a noon meal.”

The cots were untied from the rafters and one was placed on the porch in the position chosen by Dan, then the bedding was put on all of them and it was 11 o’clock and the sun was riding hot and high above the mountain when Julie, suddenly becoming demure, announced that she wanted Dan to go to sleep also, and that she and Gerald would get the lunch.

The older boy did not require much urging and when he saw the eager light in the eyes of the little girl, who had in the beginning supposed that she alone was to be the one to take care of him, he decided to do as she wished. Julie had had six months’ training with her grandmother, who believed that a girl could not begin too young to learn how to cook, and she had often boasted that she had a very apt pupil.

He soon heard the children whispering and laughing happily at the back of the cabin, then a door was closed softly and the lad heard only the soughing in the pine trees close to the porch and the humming of the winged insects far and near. Then he, too, fell into a much needed slumber.

CHAPTER XIII

TWO LITTLE COOKS

The kitchen of the log cabin had one window and a door which opened out into what Gerry called the “back-yard part of their ledge.” It was only about fifty feet to the very edge, and Gerry crept on hands and knees to look over, that he might see where their “back-yard went.” He lifted a face filled with awe and beckoned his sister to advance with caution. Lying flat, the two children gazed over the rim of the ledge, straight down a wall of rock, far below which the road could be seen curving. “Ohee!” Julie drew back with a shudder. “What if our cabin should slide right off this shelf that it’s built on?”

“It can’t, if it wants to,” the boy told her confidently. “We’re safe here as anything. That’s two ways a bear can’t come,” he continued; “but on the other side, where the creek is, and in front, where the stone steps are, I suppose the bear came in one of those two ways.”

The small girl looked frightened. “Oh, Gerry,” she said, “what if a bear should come again? What would we do?”

“Why, Dan would shoot it, just the way Dad did,” the boy replied with great assurance. His big brother was his hero, and that he could not perform any feat required was not to be thought of for one moment.

“But Dan hasn’t a gun, has he?” Julie was not yet convinced.

“Indeed he has, silly. Do you s’pose Dad would let us come into this wild country without guns? Dan has two in his trunk. One’s a big fellow! Dad let me hold it once, and, Oh, boy, I’m telling you it’s a heavy one. I most had to drop it, and I’ve got bully muscle. Look at what muscle I’ve got!”

Gerry crooked his bare arm, but his sister turned away impatiently, saying: “Oh, I don’t want to! You make me feel what muscle you’ve got most every day.”

Julie returned to the kitchen, but Gerry followed, and, if he were offended by her lack of interest in his brawniness, he did not show it. He was far too interested in the subject under discussion. “That big gun I was telling you about is the very one Dad used when he shot the grizzly, and if it shot one bear, then of course it can shoot another bear.”

The little girl was convinced. That seemed clear reasoning, but she interrupted when the boy began again, by saying: “Gerald Abbott, do stop telling bear stories, and help me clean up this kitchen. Jane won’t be any more use than nothing and we might as well do things and pretend she isn’t here, the way I wish she wasn’t.”

“I sort of wish she hadn’t come, myself,” Gerry confessed. “Now, let’s see. Here’s a cupboard all nailed up. I guess I can pull out the nails, but first I’d better make a fire in this old stove. I’ll have to fetch in some wood.”

“No, you won’t! Not just at first. There’s a box full behind the stove. Big, knotty pieces; pine, I suppose; but maybe we do need some kindling. Then bring me some water from the creek and I’ll wash up everything. Dad said we’d find some dishes in the cupboard, if they hadn’t been stolen.”

“Gee, I hope they haven’t!” The boy, who was as handy about a home as was his small sister, soon had a fire in the stove, and then, having found a pail, he went to the creek, stealing around past the front porch and under his sister’s window as quietly as he possibly could. Although dry twigs creaked and snapped, the two sleepers did not waken.

Such fun as those youngsters had putting the kitchen in order. In the cupboard they found all of the dishes which their father had mentioned. Although the china was coarse, the green fern pattern was attractive. Gerald, standing on a chair, handed it out, piece by piece, to the small girl, who put them in hot, sudsy water and then dried them till they shone. Gerald, meantime, was washing the shelves. Then they replaced the dishes and stood back to admire their handiwork.

“Oh, aren’t we having fun?” Julie chuckled. “Now, we’re all ready to get the lunch.”

It was one o’clock when Julie went to waken Jane, and Gerald, at the same time, went out on the porch where Dan had been sleeping, but the older boy was sitting up on the edge of his cot drinking in the beauty of the scene which, to him, was an ever-changing marvel. He sprang up, wonderfully refreshed, and going to the packing trunk, he procured a towel.

“Hello, Jane,” he called brightly to the tall girl, who appeared in the open door. Then he gave a long whistle. “Sister,” he exclaimed, love and admiration ringing in his voice, “I hope that Jean Sawyer, who is coming to dine with us day after tomorrow, has a heart of adamant. I pity him if he hasn’t! I honestly never saw anyone so beautiful as you are, with the flush of slumber on your cheeks and your eyes so bright.”

Jane came out smiling. This was the sort of adulation she desired and required, but her brother felt a twinge of guilt, for, even as he had been talking, he had seen in memory a slender, alert little creature with eyes, star-like in their dusky radiance, gazing out at him from under dark, curling lashes.

But they were so unlike, these two, he told himself. The one proud, imperious, ultra-civilized; the other, a wild thing, untamed, or so she had appeared to him in that one moment’s glance, a native of the mountains.

“Where are you going with that towel?” Jane asked him.

The lad laughingly dived again into the packing trunk and brought out another. “Let’s go to the creek to wash,” he suggested. “I haven’t even seen it yet, and I’m ever so eager to feel that cold mountain water dash into my face.” Then in a low tone he whispered close to his sister’s ear, “The children have a surprise for us, Jane, and so let’s be very much surprised and not disappoint them.”

Jane shrugged. To her, children and their ways had to be endured, but she took no interest in what they did or did not do. However, she accompanied her brother around the house.

She glanced at him with a sense of satisfaction, which was, as usual, prompted by selfishness. If Dan seemed so much better in one day, he might be so well by the end of a fortnight that she would not need to remain with him. If she were sure that all was to be well with him, she would return to Merry. The lad, not dreaming what her thoughts were, caught her hand boyishly. “Oh, Jane,” he cried as he pointed ahead, “can you believe it, Sister-pal, that is our very own mountain stream! Isn’t it a beauty?”

The sunlight, falling between the pines, lighted the narrow, rushing, whirling little mountain brook, which sparkled and seemed to sing for the very joy of being. Standing on its edge, Dan looked up the mountain along the course the brook had come. “See,” he cried jubilantly, “wherever the sunlight filters through, it gleams as though it were laughing. Dad said that it springs out just below the rim rock. Oh, I do hope by next week I will be able to climb up that high.”

Jane’s glance followed her brother’s up the rough, rocky mountain side and she shook her head. “I’ll never attempt it,” she decided, but Dan whirled, laughing defiance. “I’m going to prophesy that you’ll climb the rim rock before a fortnight is over.”

Then kneeling, he splashed the clear, cold water in his face and reached for the towel that Jane held. Then he implored her to do the same. With great reluctance she complied, and so cool and restful did she find it, that she actually smiled, almost with pleasure.

But Dan had the misfortune to say the wrong thing just then. “I suppose this brook, or one like it, is all the mirror that the mountain girl, Meg Heger, has ever had,” he began, when he sensed a chill in his sister’s reply.

“I certainly do not know, nor do I care.” Then she added, as an afterthought, “And I shall never find out.”

CHAPTER XIV

FRETFUL JANE

Luckily Dan had succeeded in changing his sister’s thought before they returned to the cabin, and he vowed inwardly that he would never again mention Meg Heger, since Jane had taken such a strange dislike to her. How one could dislike a girl one had barely seen was beyond his comprehension, but girls were hard to understand, all except Julie. She was just a wholesome, helpful little maid with a pug-nose that was always freckled.