  The next morning Jane arose early with the determination to walk up the mountain road and meet Meg Heger on her way to the Redfords school. And so, directly after breakfast, she started away alone. She asked Dan to detain the children in the kitchen that they might not see her go and perhaps wish to accompany her. The older lad, recalling the incident of the mountain lion, wondered if he ought to permit her to go alone, but the trapper had assured him that the occurrence had been a most unusual one, that the lions, and other wild creatures usually remained far from the haunts of man, and that in the ten years that Meg had ridden up and down that mountain road to the Redfords school, she had never encountered a dangerous animal of any kind. The sun, even at that early hour, was so warm Jane was glad that most of the mile she was to climb was in the shadow. She found herself scanning the roadside with great interest, stopping to watch a scaly lizard that was lying on a rock gazing at her intently with small back eyes, believing himself to be unseen because his coat was the color of his surroundings. He had not stirred, even when she started away. It was a still morning and out of many a cool green covert a bird-song pealed. Again and again Jane paused to listen to some clear rising cadence. She wondered why she had never before heard the singing of birds. Of course, she must have heard them many, many times. They had often awakened her in her home, and at Highacres, but she had felt disturbed rather than pleased. She never before had listened to a single song, like the one which some hidden bird was singing. It would be interesting to know what kind of a bird it was. She would ask Meg Heger. Surely the mountain girl would know. Jane Abbott had not been in so susceptible a mood, at least not since her long ago childhood, and it was with a sense of eager anticipation that she at last drew to one side of the road to await the coming of the small horse and rider that she could hear approaching. Meg Heger was indeed surprised to see the sister of Dan Abbott in the road so evidently awaiting her, but she experienced no pleasure from the meeting. She well knew that the city girl, who had snubbed her on the day before, would again do so, if it were not that she considered it her duty to express gratitude for what Meg had done. She drew rein, merely because Jane Abbott had stepped forward and had held up her hand. The expression in the dusky eyes of the mountain girl was at that moment as proud and cold as had been the expression in the eyes of Jane on the day previous. Before the girl in the road could speak, Meg said: “Miss Abbott, I know that you have come to thank me for having ridden to Scarsburg, but let me assure you at once that I did not do it for your sake. I did it for Julie and Gerald, chiefly, because they are my friends. You owe me nothing. Good morning!” The pony, feeling the urging of his mistress’ heel, started away so suddenly that Jane found herself standing in a whirl of dust. Her face grew crimson as her anger rose. She, Jane Abbott, had actually been snubbed by a halfbreed. It had been only natural that she, a city girl of family and culture, should have snubbed Meg Heger. But she had supposed that the mountain girl would be pleased, indeed, when she condescended to be friendly. As she walked slowly back toward their cabin, she did not hear the song of the birds, nor see the beauty that lay all about her. She was wrathfully deciding that she would pack at once and leave a place where it was possible for her to be snubbed by a halfbreed Indian. Then that persistent voice, deep within her, asked: “Didn’t you deserve it, Jane? Would you admire a girl who would fall upon your neck after you had been rude to her?” And Jane had to acknowledge that the soul-voice was right. But, though Jane had seemed to have a change of heart toward Meg Heger, she still felt most irritable toward Julie. Nothing that small girl could do pleased her. She had at once retired to her room, wishing to be alone. True, she had decided to try to win the friendship of the mountain girl, but after the first few hours she found herself questioning if she really wanted it. Of course she did not. She wanted only friends of her own kind. She flung herself down on her bed and in her heart was a growing anger at herself and at everyone. Dan had gone for the daily climb which he believed would aid the recovery of his strength, as indeed everything seemed to be doing in a most miraculous manner. Julie and Gerald were cleaning house and were dragging the heavy pieces of furniture about in the living-room with shouts and laughter. Jane sprang up and threw open her door. “I do wish you children would try to keep quiet,” she blazed at them. Gerald faced her defiantly. “Come and do the cleaning yourself if you want it done different. There’s no reason why we should do it at all, only Julie said, being as it hadn’t been done right since we came, we’d ought to get at it.” “You’re just hateful, both of you! I wish you would clear out of my sight and never come back!” With this angry remark, Jane closed her door with a bang. With a dark glance in that direction, Gerald caught Julie by the hand. “Come on, sis,” he said. “You’n I’ll clear out and we’ll stay away till that Jane Abbott goes back East, that’s what we’ll do.” The boy snatched up his small gun and put the cartridges in his pocket. He took his cap and handed Julie her hat and then led her out of the door. “Why, Gerald Abbott, where are we going?” the small girl held back, feeling sure that they ought not to leave their cabin home in this manner. “First off we’re going to find Dan and tell him just what happened. Then, second off, I don’t ’zactly know what we will do, but I just won’t stay here and have that horrid old Jane saying mean things to you all the time and us waiting on her and doing the work she ought to be doing. That’s what.” The boy led his small sister along so rapidly that she tripped and would have fallen had he not turned and caught her. “Gee, I guess we’ll have to go slower,” he confessed as they started to climb the steep rocks that formed the outer edge of the mountain brook which tumbled in a series of little waterfalls, now and then tossing a mist of spray over them. Julie began to glow with the pleasurable sense of adventure, supposing, of course, that Gerald knew where Dan had gone. At last she inquired. “I sort o’ think we’ll find him up at the rim-rock,” Gerald said stoutly. “I’m pretty sure we will. He told me that’s where he goes for his constitootional. That means a hike to make him get strong, constitootional does.” The girl’s freckled face was aglow. “Oh, goodie!” she cried. “I’d love to climb ’way up there.” Then she asked, a little anxiously: “Aren’t you skeered we might meet a wildcat or a lion or a bear?” Her small brother’s courage was reassuring. “I hope we will. That’s what! I’m a sharpshooter, I am, and the wildcat that meets us will wish he hadn’t.” Julie clung to his hand with a secure feeling that she was well protected. “Oh, look-it, will you?” Gerry pointed ahead and above. “There’s a tree that has fallen right across our brook. That’s a nice bridge and if we can get up there we can go across on it.” “Is the rim-rock on the other side of our brook?” Julie inquired. Now Gerald had never climbed that high on their mountain before, and so he had no real knowledge of the exact location of the rock about which Dan had told them, but since it was on the very top, the small boy knew that if they kept on climbing, in time they would surely reach it. The fallen tree was lying across the brook at a very steep ascent and it was with great difficulty that Gerald boosted his sister to the narrow ledge on which it rested. “Don’t be scared,” he said. “I’ll get you across all right and then we’ll begin calling for Dan.” |
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