CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX KEN'S QUEST
When the pupils gathered on Monday morning, Miss Bayley soon realizedthat the little Martins had something to tell her that they believed wasof great interest. It was indeed astonishing and most acceptable news.Carol, who had spent Saturday afternoon on the Valley Ranch, had beeninformed by Sue Piggins that little Jessica Archer was to return withher to the boarding-school in Reno. Mrs. Sethibald, the mother, had letit be known that a common log-cabin school was not good enough for a"sheep-princess," and that from then on she was to have the best"iddication" that could be obtained, for, like as not, when she wasgrown, she'd be one of the first ladies of Nevada, if not of the wholeland.
"The girls over there won't like her, not the least little mite," Suehad prophesied, "that is, not unless she changes a lot. Their fathersare all more educated, and just as rich as Mr. Archer is or ever willbe."
Miss Bayley said little when this news was told, but secretly sherejoiced. She had feared that she would be obliged by the law to reportJessica as a truant if she did not attend school anywhere, but it surelywas not pleasant to anticipate her return to the little log school inWoodford's Canyon.
So happy, indeed, did the girl-teacher feel that she wished that it werewithin her power to declare a half-holiday, but, since it was not, shedecided to close half an hour early and take all her little pupils,Mexicans, blacksmith's son, and the trapper's two little girls, whoalways looked hungry, with the four Martins, over to her cabin tocelebrate. Even while she was giving out sums in mathematics herthoughts were straying. "I'm so glad I made a mountain of a chocolatecake," she was thinking; "and I'll make more chocolate to drink, and foronce Milly and Maggy Mullett, at least, shall have all the cake theywish."
Mrs. Sethibald Archer would indeed have been indignant if she had knownher daughter's withdrawal from the log-cabin school was being consideredan occasion for especial rejoicing.
Often during the morning Dixie glanced at Miss Bayley and thought thatshe never before had noticed how very young-looking she was, and, too,the girl-teacher looked as though she might begin to sing at any minute.Indeed, so real was Miss Bayley's desire to do so that she quite upsetthe usual plan of study by saying: "Don't let's do mathematics any morethis morning. Let's each choose a song to sing." Which they did, and howthe little old schoolhouse rang, for each chose a song that they allknew well, and although little Dixie, who led them, had not the vaguestidea why teacher was so happy, the spirit of rejoicing was contagious,and her birdlike soprano voice trilled sweeter and higher, encouragingthose who faltered.
When at last the solemn-faced clock, which perhaps had been watching allthis unusual procedure with dignified surprise, slowly tolled the hourof ten, Miss Bayley said: "And now we will have recess. Dixie, dear,will you lead the games to-day, and Ken, will you remain with me? I wishto speak to you."
The heart of loyal little Ken was filled with pride. It was a greathonor, the pupils of Josephine Bayley thought, to be asked to remain inat recess and be talked to by teacher. Sometimes she actually askedtheir opinions about things, for, strange as it may seem, it was hertheory that if the children would rather have red geraniums blossomingon the window-sill, instead of white, red they should be.
"It's _your_ schoolroom," she had told her pupils, "and here you spendthe heart of every day. I want it to be beautiful in your eyes, and thenI know it will be in mine."
Was there ever another teacher so understanding as their beloved MissBayley?
Ken's intelligent freckled face glowed with eagerness when at last thelittle line of pupils had filed out to the playground, and he was tohear why Miss Bayley had asked him to stay in at recess.
The young teacher left her desk and stepped down by his side. "Laddie,"she began, "yesterday morning early I climbed the trail that starts backof the inn, and I found a wonderful view of Lake Tahoe, but I found morethan that. Guess what?"
She had placed a hand on each of his shoulders, and was looking into thewondering eyes that were so like Dixie's, though not so dreamy, for Kenwas a doer of deeds, as Pine Tree Martin had been.
"Oh, Miss Bayley, teacher, what? A bear, like 'twas. Now and then theydo come down from the high Nevadas, but usually not till the snows setin."
"Gracious, me, no, not that. If I had met a bear, I don't suppose Ishould be here to-day to tell about it."
The girl-teacher looked her consternation at the mere possibility ofsuch a meeting, but the boy shook his head, with its unruly mop of hairthat was redder than Dixie's, as he answered, "Bears don't touch peopleunless they're cornered or come upon sudden-like."
Then, remembering that the mystery had not been explained, he askedeagerly, "Miss Bayley, what _did_ you see?"
"A camp-fire, Ken, and although no one at all was in sight, the coalswere still smoldering. Now, who do you suppose would be breakfasting onthat high peak? It isn't a trail that leads anywhere in particular, isit?"
"The Washoe Indians go over that way to Lake Tahoe fishing, but itdoesn't sound like Indians," the boy said. Then his eyes lighted withhope. "Do you 'spose maybe 'twas a train-robber hiding?"
"Goodness, I hope not!" Miss Bayley shuddered. "I'd heaps rather havemet your bear." Then she added, "Have there been any trains robbedlately?"
The boy had to confess that he hadn't heard of any. "There used to belots of train and stage hold-ups when my dad was a boy," he said, "butnowdays nothing much happens." There was real regret in the tone of thelad, as though life in the Sierra Nevadas had become too tame to be ofreal interest. Then his eyes again brightened. "Well, anyhow, it mighthave been a sheep-rustler. How I'd like to trail him, if 'twas. There'sa State bounty for cornering one, Miss Bayley."
The girl-teacher laughed at the boy's eagerness. "Well, Ken," sheconfessed, "all I saw was a smoldering camp-fire, and since a bear, acoyote, or a mountain lion cannot make a fire, we shall have to believethat a man had breakfasted there at sunrise, but I heard no one and sawno one."
"Oh, Miss Bayley, teacher, how I'd like to 'vestigate. I'd like to,_awful well_, if I could get 'scused a little early. It gets dusky sosoon now, and I'd need to have two hours of daylight, certain."
This was an unusual and unexpected request, but the holiday spirit wasin the heart of the girl-teacher, and so, to the great joy of the lad,she granted it. Then she added, as a new thought suggested itself: "Idon't know, dear boy, that I _ought_ to let you go, if you think it_might_ be a bandit in hiding, or anything like that. Would you besafe?"
The boy's expression was hard for Miss Bayley to interpret. "Oh,teacher! Boys aren't scared of bandits. They like 'em! You know thatRobin Hood fellow in the book you and Dixie bought me in Reno. Now, hewas a bandit, wasn't he? A reg'lar bandit."
The girl-teacher had to agree. "But, Ken," she protested feebly, "he wasa story-book bandit. They are different in real life, aren't they?"
"I dunno," the boy had to acknowledge. "I haven't met one yet, but I'dlike to. Gee whiz, Miss Bayley, I wish I could start right now. I suredo! Maybe he's goin' on somewhere else this afternoon. Maybe I'd catchhim if I went this very minute."
Miss Bayley laughed. She knew that it was her fault, for she had filledthe boy's mind with longing for adventure, and she also knew that hewould be unable to study that day, and so she said, "But you haven't hadyour lunch."
"I've got my share in my pocket this minute. Could I go, Miss Bayley?Could I go now?"
What was there to do but agree, and, with a little half-suppressed whoopof joy, the boy leaped to the row of hats, snatched his own from a hook,waved it in farewell, and was gone. A wild gazelle could hardly havebeen more fleet of foot.
No stick did he carry to beat ahead for snakes. This little lad, bornand reared in the mountains, had no fear of the other creatures dwellingthere. With understanding sympathy and comradeship he made them all hisfriends.
Dixie Martin, the Girl of Woodford's Cañon Page 27
