CHAPTER III. A FIRST ADVENTURE.
Muriel did not have to call a second time to her shaggy friend, for upthe steep, wet steps from the wharf the dog leaped and liftedintelligent, inquiring eyes. "Don' let's go to the cave fust off,Shagsie." The girl always talked to her four-footed companion as thoughshe were sure that he could understand. "Let's go to that pebbly beachwar yo' found suthin' yesterday an' lost it. Mabbe it got washed up shoreagin, whatever 'twas. Mabbe now! What say, ol' Shags?"
Knowing that a reply was expected when his mistress stooped and strokedhis head, the dog yapped eagerly, then raced alongside of the barefootedgirl, who followed an infrequently used trail which ambled along towardthe north end of the island, where the beach was wildest.
The shore, however, could not be seen until one was nearly upon it. Whenit came within the vision of the girl she stood still so suddenly thatShags, having kept on, was several lengths ahead before he was consciousthat he was alone.
He turned back inquiringly. "Sh! Keep still!" the girl whispered, herhazel eyes growing darker and wider as she gazed, almost as though shewere frightened at something just below on the rocky beach.
What she saw was not really fear-inspiring. A youth, dressed in whiteflannels, who appeared to be but little older than Rilla, was standingwith his hands in his pockets gazing at a flat-bottomed, weather-stainedsailboat, in which he had evidently just landed and which he had drawn ashigh as he could up on the shore.
He turned with a start when an angry voice called, "Clear out! Go away!We don' want any landlubbers here!"
The lad, however, did not seem to be in the least intimidated by thisoutburst from the rocks above him.
Looking up, he actually smiled. A barefooted girl with red-brown hairblowing in the wind and with a shaggy yellow and white dog at her sidewas, to his thought, a picture more to be admired than feared.
And, for that matter, Eugene Beavers, himself, was not fear-inspiring. Hehad clear grey eyes, a keen, thin face, and a firmly rounded chin.Indeed, Gene, as his best friends called him, was not only a good lookinglad but one whom young and old trusted unquestioningly.
But with Rilla one thought was uppermost. One of those terrible creaturesso dreaded by her grand-dad had dared to land on her very own island.There could be no mistake that he was "city folks," for no boy living onthe coast would have such a pale face nor would he be dressed in whiteflannels.
"If yo' don' board yer boat an' ship off instanter I'll send Shags atyo', I will!" Rilla was wrathful because her first command had not beenobeyed. At this the lad laughed, not rudely, but with merry good nature.It seemed to him truly humorous that this barefooted, wind-blown girlshould be ordering him out to sea. Rilla, however, believed that he waslaughing at her. Stamping her foot and pointing at the boy, her eyesflashing, she cried, "Shags, at him, ol' dog."
The faithful creature plunged down the rocky trail, growling as fiercelyas he could, but as he approached the youth toward whom his mistress waspointing he paused uncertainly. The smiling lad, unafraid, was holdingout a welcoming hand. "Come here, good dog," he said coaxingly.
Shags, being friendly by nature, and not in the least understanding thepresent need for ferocity, actually wagged his tail and permitted thestrange boy to stroke his head. This was too much for Rilla.
Her grand-dad had said that the dog would protect her, but he hadn't doneit. With an angry half sob, she turned and scrambled up the rocks. Asecond later, when the boy looked up, the girl was not to be seen.Shrugging his shoulders, he turned back to converse with his newlyacquired companion. Gene dearly loved dogs and Shags had instinctivelyrecognized in him a friend, but not so Rilla. She was convinced that allboys from the city were enemies, for had not her grand-dad said so timeand again?
Running to the lighthouse, the girl seized the gun that stood in thecorner and raced back again. The next time that Gene Beavers looked up,there she stood with a gun pointed directly at him.
"Now'll yo' take orders?" her voice rang out angrily, her eyes dark withexcitement. "Now'll yo' put out to sea?"
The lad looked puzzled and then troubled. For the first time he wasconscious that this stormy girl really feared him, and yet he could notget near enough to explain to her why he had landed on Windy Island.
What should he do? What could he do? Rilla said no more, but, while hewas hesitating, there was a sudden report and a bullet whizzed over hishead. It was evidently merely a choice between which kind of an end tohis life he preferred. Pushing the boat into the water in a quiet,rock-sheltered spot, he leaped in and shoved off.
However, he had not gone two lengths from shore when he heard the girlshouting lustily: "Come back here, yo' landlubber! Don' yo' know yerboat's sinkin'? Tarnation sakes, what kind o' an old hulk yo' got thar?"
The gun had been thrown down and the girl scrambled down to the edge ofthe beach. The boat, having left the shelter of the rocks, was caught inthe surf. Seizing the oars, Gene let the sail flap as he tried to regainthe land. The leak which had driven him to shore in the beginning wascausing the boat to rapidly fill with water. Then, to complete hisfeeling of helplessness, an unusually large breaker was thundering towardhim.
"Jump the gunnel, quick, or yo'll flounder!" the girl commanded.
The lad obeyed. Leaping into the swirling water, which was nearly chindeep, he swam toward the shore, and not a moment too soon, for thebreaker lifted the boat high and crashed it to splinters on the rockypoint.
The boy and the girl stood near each other watching the annihilation ofthe craft and the angry after-swirl of dark green waters.
Then, turning to his companion, he smiled. "Well, little Miss StormMaiden," he said, "you have saved my life, I guess, by your quickcommand, although you really wanted to shoot me, since your dog wouldn'teat me up."
"How'd yo' know my name was Storm?" the truly amazed girl inquired. "Ihadn't tol' yo' nothin'."
"I didn't know it. Is that your name?"
The girl nodded. "Ye-ah! Muriel Storm, though Grand-dad calls me Rilly."
"My name," the boy told her, "is Eugene Beavers, and my friends call meGene. My home is in New York, but I am visiting your Doctor Winslow inTunkett. He and my dad are old friends. I've been sick and had to leavecollege right at the beginning of the term, so dad shipped me off downhere to----"
Before he could finish his sentence, Muriel, who had been looking at himsteadily, exclaimed: "Yer shiverin' wi' the cold. The surf's like ice.Yo' be gathering driftwood for a fire; make a tarnal whopper, while I getsome matches."
Again the girl scrambled up the trail among the rocks and the dog wentwith her. For a moment the lad stood gazing out at sea, as he ruminated,an amused twinkle in his eyes:
"And here I thought that Tunkett at this time of the year would bestupid, the summer colony being closed, but I never had an adventure moreinteresting than this one."
Gene had a goodly pile of driftwood collected when Rilla reappeared onthe rocky cliff. Instead of the gun, she was carrying a covered bucketand a thick china cup.
Although her manner of approaching him could not really be calledfriendly, yet it was not as hostile as her former attitude had been. Sheheld up the cup toward him and filled it with steaming hot tea. "Drinkthat!" she commanded; then added, "Though likely 'twill mos' scald yo'."
How the lad wanted to laugh. Just before he had left the city his sisterHelen had dragged him to an afternoon tea (or was it a bazaar?) and theresome prettily dressed girls had surrounded him, offering him daintyporcelain cups half filled with fragrant orange pekoe. He was expected topurchase one of them for the sake of the cause. Not wishing to offend anyof the fair friends of Helen Beavers, he had purchased them all, andthen, when unobserved, he had slipped away to freedom.
Again a maiden--a storm maiden, at that--was offering him tea. The cupwasn't porcelain and the girl was not effusively gracious to him as thoseothers, who all greatly admired him, had been. This wild island girl wasmerely tryi
ng to warm him up that he need not freeze from his unexpectedplunge into the icy surf. There was another point of difference betweenthe two tea parties, Gene thought as he drank the hot, and almost bitter,beverage. His one desire at the other had been to escape, but at this teaparty he found himself more interested than he had been in a long time.
Gene had several moments alone in which to meditate, for Rilla, havingglanced at the sun, had suddenly scrambled up the rocks, and, shading hereyes, had looked long toward the town. Being satisfied that her grand-dadhad not left Tunkett, she returned and lighted the dry wood, which soonsnapped and crackled. Then, rising, she put her hands on her hips andunsmilingly gazed at the boy with dark, expressive eyes. After a moment'ssolemn scrutiny she inquired: "How come yo' to be cruisin' 'round in thatol' leaky hulk? Even a water rat'd had better sense."
There seemed to the lad to be a note of scorn in the girl's voice, andyet she had brought him tea.
Gene lowered the cup and smiled at her. Usually his smile was contagious,it was so genuinely good natured. "I don't blame you in the least forcalling me names," he told her. "I just landed in Tunkett yesterday, andnot knowing how to pass the time away, I went down to the wharf and askeda small freckle-faced boy if I could hire a boat. He said I could have mypick for a dollar an hour. He was going with me to where his boats weretied, I suppose, but just then some woman in the store called and away heran. So I took the first boat I came to. I didn't notice that it leakeduntil I was rounding the island."
"That was little Sol--Mis' Dexter's boy--he rents boats to summer folks.He asks a tarnal whoppin' price for 'em, 'pears like."
"Well, his sail will cost me more than one dollar," the lad told her, hiseyes twinkling, "for I'll have to pay for the wreck, I suppose." Then headded: "Miss Storm Maiden, why don't you smile? I've been here an hour, Ido believe, and although you have looked at me angrily and scornfully andsolemnly, you have not as yet smiled at me.
"I can't be smilin' when I know I'm doin' what's agin my grand-dad'sorders, but I _tried_ to mind him. I tried to ship yo' off'n WindyIsland. I sure did." The lad was puzzled. "I'll testify that you triedhard enough, but _why_ did you, Storm Maiden? Surely you weren't afraidof me. I don't understand."
Then, in a few words, the girl told of her grand-dad's dislike for "cityfolks," though she did not tell him what caused that dislike.
"Am I the very first boy you have ever talked with?" the lad asked inamazement.
Rilla, still solemn, nodded. "Ye-ah," she said, "an' I'm tarnal sartin Idon' know what to do with yo', bein' as yer boat's wrecked. Grand-dad'llbe back by noon and it's most that now." A swift glance at the sun hadtold Rilla the time. "Yo'll have to hide in Treasure Cave, that's what! Ican't come to see yo' thar; 'twouldn't be honest to Grand-dad; but I'lllet down a basket of grub on a rope. Then, when Cap'n Barney comes infrom the fishin' shoals where he goes every day I'll hail him an' tellhim to take yo' to town. He don' mind city folks the way Grand-dad does."
As she talked, Rilla led the way along the shore and paused at the footof the perilous cliff above which towered the lighthouse.
"Thar's a sail cloth in the cave as yo' can wrap up in and keep warm,"she said. Then she pointed out the steep trail.
The lad looked at it and secretly wondered if he could make it. Then,turning, he held out his right hand, his cap in the other, as he saidearnestly: "Miss Muriel Storm, I thank you for everything." Then hestarted to climb. The girl watched him anxiously. "Steady there!" shecautioned. "Keep an even keel."
The lad reached the ledge in safety and turned to wave his cap; then,stooping, he entered the cave, and none too soon, for, right at that verymoment, a stentorian voice from the top of the cliff called, "Rilly gal,where be ye?"
"Comin', Grand-dad!" the girl replied. Then she raced along the strip ofpebbly beach, the dog at her heels.
Rilla's heart was pounding with tumultuous excitement. How she wishedthat she could go to her grandfather and tell him the whole truth, butshe did not dare.
Rilla of the Lighthouse Page 4
