Meg of Mystery Mountain

by Grace May North

  CHAPTER XXXII. HUNTING FOR THE BOX

  Jean Sawyer, troubled indeed, because Jane Abbott continued to avoid him,changed his plan and decided not to remain at the cabin until lateafternoon; and so, bidding them goodbye, he went down the road towardRedfords, leading the string of horses. The other young people climbedthe stone stairway.

  "Oh, Jane, what a perfectly adorable place," Merry exclaimed when thedoor had been unlocked and the young people had entered the long rusticliving-room. "I like it so much better than those elaborately furnishedcottages at Newport. They are too much like our own homes, but this cabinsavors of camping out. It's a wonderful spot for a real vacation."

  "It surely is different," Jane agreed as she led her friend into thecomfortable front bedroom which they were to share. Then she confessed:"I do like it much more than I had supposed that I would when I firstcame. Honestly, Merry, I feel differently inside. When I believed thatthose poor little children had been driven out of their home by mytemper, and might never be found, something inside of me snapped;something that had been holding me tense, I can't explain it, and I feltas though I had been set free from--well, free from myself. Self, that isit," she continued bitterly, "planning for oneself, living for oneself,living for one's selfish pleasure and comfort, slowly but surely deadenssympathy and love and understanding." Then taking from the table near thewide window a delicate miniature, Jane handed it to her companion. "Thatis my mother's portrait."

  "How beautiful she must have been." Merry glanced from the sweet picturedface to that of the girl at her side. "You are so alike. It is only theexpression that is different. I am sure that anyone in sorrow would havegone to your mother for comfort."

  Jane nodded. "I am not like that--yet; but Dan thinks that if we choose amodel and keep it ever in thought, we will grow to be like that person orideal, and I have chosen my mother."

  Silently Merry kissed her friend and then replaced the miniature on thetable. Jane had indeed changed that she could talk, even with her bestfriend, of these things of the soul.

  A moment later there came a jolly rapping on their closed door, and Bobcalled: "Come and see where I am going to hang out, or hang up rather."

  Merry and Jane went out on the front porch with the lad, who was brimmingwith enthusiasm. "Oh, aren't you afraid a bear will devour you in thenight?" his sister inquired, when she saw a hammock hung between twopines.

  "Hope one will," Bob replied jubilantly. "What a yarn that would be totell when I get back to college."

  Practical Julie was wide-eyed. "Why, Bob Starr," she exclaimed, "howcould you tell about it after you were all eaten up?"

  "Which reminds me," Bob said irrelevantly, "of a story about the SouthSea Islanders. A missionary was teaching them that they must take greatcare of their bodies, as they were to rise on the last day, and onenative asked what would become of his poor brother who had been eaten bya tiger."

  "Bob, dear," Merry rebuked, "you ought not to joke about such things. Itdoes not matter what we believe ourselves, or how outlandish we considerthe beliefs of others, we ought to treat them with respect."

  "Yes'm," Bob pretended to be quite contrite. "I'm willing to change thesubject if the next subject is something to eat."

  "I'll get the lunch." Julie, leaning on the staff Dan had cut for her,limped toward the kitchen, but her sister caught her and put her on theporch cot and piled pillows under her head. "Indeed not, little lady."Jane kissed her affectionately. "It's your turn now to pretend you are aprincess and I will be your maid of waiting."

  Impulsively Julie threw her arms about her sister's neck and clung to heras she whispered: "Oh, Janey, I love you so!" And Jane, when she arose,felt in her heart a greater happiness than had ever been there when shehad received the adulation of the admiring girls at Highacres.

  "And I will be your aide!" Merry, who had gone to the top of the stonestairway to look down at the road, skipped back to say, and, then, arm inarm, these two friends went, and from their merry laughter it was quiteevident that Jane's efforts as head cook were being mirthfully regardedby both of them. However, when the others were called to the back porch,where the table was set, they found as appetizing a lunch as could bedesired. But underneath all her apparent pleasure Jane was sorrowing. Shenever again could be Jean Sawyer's friend. He would not want herfriendship if he knew how she had felt about her father's sacrifice, buthe must never, never know.

  Jane glanced often at Dan during the lunch. Never had she seen him lookso wonderfully happy. He had expressed his regret that Jean had departedbefore his return and exclaimed: "But the horse I rode also belongs toMr. Packard. I wonder why he did not wait for it."

  "Mr. Packard told him to leave one horse with us," his sister explained,"and more if we wished, but I thought one would be all you would want tocare for." Dan was pleased.

  He said: "We have made good friends since we came here. It is hard torealize that it is not yet a fortnight ago." Julie chimed in with: "Yep,haven't we?" Then, beginning with one small thumb to count, "Firstthere's Meg Heger. Next to Janey, she's the nicest girl I guess thereis." Merry pretended to be quite offended. "Little one, you surely arehonest. You ought always to say present company excepted."

  "Oh, I do like you, Merry, awful much. You can be third. Will that be allright?" The golden haired girl laughed gaily: "Of course, I was onlyteasing, dear. Now who comes next?"

  "Jean Sawyer and Mr. Packard and then the little spotted pony, and thenmy mountain lion baby." The small girl put down her hand as sheconcluded. "I guess that's all the new friends I've made here in themountains."

  Bob suddenly thought of something. "Say, Dan, there is a sort of mysteryabout that trapper's daughter, isn't there? I understand that at firstthe old Ute Indian pretended he was her father in order to get the girlto give him money, and that this morning when he was dying he confessedthat he was not."

  Dan nodded. Then turning to Jane, he said: "I am sure that Meg would notwish it kept a secret from any of us and so I will tell you what the oldIndian said. His speech was almost incoherent, but we understood him tosay that Meg's father had died long ago. He must have told the squaw inSlinking Coyote's hearing that he had hidden a box which he wished givento his little girl when she was older, but he must have died before hecould tell where he had placed the box."

  "How I wish it could be found," Jane said earnestly, "for without doubtit would contain identification papers. Although it is a great joy to Megto know that she is not that old Ute's daughter, she will have to seekout the squaw who took her to the Heger cabin before she can know who herfather really was."

  "And even then I doubt if she would discover much," Dan remarked. "Mytheory is that Meg's father was a miner who had brought thethree-year-old little girl to Crazy Creek Camp and had remained there fora time, even after the exodus. In fact, he must have stayed until theIndian tribe took possession of the otherwise deserted camp. Perhaps justafter they came he was seized with a fatal illness and left his littleone with the kindly old squaw, probably telling her to give the child toa white family, since that is what she did."

  "I believe you are right," Jane agreed. "It all sounds very reasonable tome. But why do you suppose Meg's father remained at the camp aftereveryone else had left? Do you think he had some clue to the whereaboutsof the lost vein?"

  "That we cannot tell," Dan said. "He may have remained to hunt for it."Then, rising, he smiled around at the group. "What shall we do thisafternoon, or do you want to just rest?"

  "Nary for me!" was energetic Bob's reply. "I want to hunt for Meg Heger'shidden box. Who will go with me and where shall we begin the search?"

  Bob's enthusiasm was contagious. "I believe that I now understand thereal reason why the Ute Indian hung around the Crazy Creek Camp," Dantold them. "He knew that the miner had hidden a box, an iron one, ofcourse it must be, and he has been searching for it, probably believingit to contain whatever money Meg's father had."

  "Of c
ourse," Bob agreed. "That's as clear as daylight. We have cluesenough, but the thing is to try to reason out _where_ would be a likelyplace for the miner to have hidden it."

  Gerald, not wishing to be left out of so interesting a discussion, wiselycontributed, "Maybe under the floor-boards in the cabin where he lived,or some place like that."

  Dan smiled down into the chubby freckled face of his small brother as hereplied: "One naturally might suppose so, but I do believe, Gerry, thatthe old Ute suspected the same thing and has been ransacking those cabinsall these years. I would be more inclined to look in some of the dug-outsor tunnels where, if he were a miner, Meg's father may have beensearching for the lost vein."

  While the boys talked Jane and Merry had been washing and wiping thelunch dishes. When they joined the excited group on the front porch, Bobstood up, saying, "Shall we start now?"

  Jane also arose, but, happening to glance down at Julie, she saw tearsbrimming the small girl's eyes and that her lips were quivering.Instantly the older girl sat on the cot beside her, and, putting her armsabout her little sister, she said compassionately: "Is your ankle hurtingagain, dearie? Since you cannot go, I will stay here with you and read toyou. Don't feel badly, Julie. Your foot will soon be well; long beforethey find the box, I am sure of that."

  The small girl leaned happily against her sister and looked up at herwith adoration in her dark violet eyes. Then Merry announced: "This is aboys' adventure anyway. We girls will sit on the porch and have the bestkind of a time all together."

  And so the boys departed, armed with stout staffs and guns and callingthat they would surely be back by supper time.

  But when at last they did return, they had discovered nothing, and Bobwas eager to start at dawn the next day and search everywhere around theCrazy Creek Camp.

  Merry shuddered. "Goodness, don't!" she ejaculated. "It was ghostlyenough before, but now that we know that old Ute is entombed in one ofthose cabins, you couldn't get me within a mile of the place."

  Bob retorted: "Well, we hadn't invited you girls, had we? So you need notrefuse with such gusto! We're going to take the horse, so that Dan canride most of the way." But that lad interrupted: "You mean that we willtake turns riding. Although I have been in the Rockies so short a time mycold is entirely cured, and, as my lungs had not really been affected, Iam soon to be as husky as you, Bob."

  "Of course you are, old man," Bob put a hand on his friend's shoulder,"but soon isn't now. I won't go unless you will ride, when I think it isthe best for you to do so."

  "All righto! Anything to be agreeable." Dan sank down on the porch stepas though he were rather tired after the climb they had just completed.

  Bob then turned to the girls. "You maidens fair need not awaken. We'll beas quiet as--as----" Dan smilingly offered: "How would Santa Claus do? Hesteals around very softly, or so tradition has it." Bob laughed. "I wasgoing to say as a thief in the night, but I don't like to use a similewhich suggests an unpleasant picture, and it's the wrong time of the yearfor Santa Claus."

  "A mouse is awful quiet," Julie put in.

  "Or a cat. They have cushions on their feet," Gerald added.

  "We'll be as quiet as all of them," Bob said, "and tomorrow, youngladies, we are going to bring home the box."

  When the boys returned from Crazy Creek Camp they were weary anddisappointed, but not discouraged, or so Bob assured the girls. It wasquite evident that they were much excited, however, but what had causedit they would not reveal. When Merry asked if their search had taken themclose to the tomb of the old Ute Indian, Bob had looked over at Dan andhad asked, "Shall we tell?"

  The older boy nodded. "Why, yes, we might as well. Sooner or later theyare likely to find it out."

  The young people were seated about the hearth in the living-room of thecabin resting and visiting before they retired for the night. Gerald'seyes glowed with excitement. "Julie won't sleep a wink if she knows aboutit. She'll be skeered as anything, Julie will."

  The small girl nestled closer to Jane and looked up at her inquiringly."What does Gerry mean, Janey?" she asked. "Are they trying to tease us?"

  But Dan replied seriously, "No, it is the truth that something hasoccurred since we were last at the Crazy Creek Camp, and the discovery ofit did startle us. Although we planned to give the tomb-cabin a wideberth, we at once went to a position where we could look at it. You girlscan imagine our surprise, and I'll confess it, horror, when we saw thefront door standing wide open."

  "Oh-oo, how dreadful!" Jane shuddered. "What did it mean? Had someoneopened the door out of curiosity, do you suppose, and what a shock itmust have been when they found that dead Indian on the floor."

  Dan and Bob exchanged curious glances. Then the latter spoke up: "It isjust possible that the old Ute was not really dead and that he revivedand left the cabin."

  "But how could he?" Merry looked thoughtfully into the fire. "As Iremember, the door was barred on the outside."

  "True!" her brother replied, "but we also found a loose board on thefloor, which had been lifted, leaving a hole large enough for the Ute tohave crawled through. After that he may have opened the door to procurehis pick-ax and shovel, as both were gone."

  Julie glanced fearfully at the dark windows of the room, and Gerald said,almost gloatingly: "There, I told you so! Julie is skeered. She thinksthe old Ute may be prowling around our cabin this very minute."

  "Mr. Heger ought to be told about this," Dan had started to say, whenGerry grabbed his arm. "What's that noise?" he whispered. "Someone isoutside. I hear 'em coming."

  Dan and Bob were on their feet at once. There was indeed the sound offootsteps outside the cabin, then there came a rap on the door. Julieimplored: "O Dan, don't! don't open it! Get your gun first!"

  The older boy hesitated for a moment, but in that brief time his ownfears were set at rest, for a familiar voice called, "Daniel Abbott, mayI speak with ye?"

  The boy's tenseness relaxed and he threw open the door with a welcomingsmile. "Mr. Heger, we're mighty glad to see you! Come in, won't you?"

  The mountaineer glanced at the group about the fire, but shook his head."No, I thank ye. I jest came down to ask if a big brown mare I foundwhinnyin' around my corral is the one Mr. Packard loaned ye? I would haveasked Meg hed she been to home, but she went, sudden-like, to Scarsburg,along of some school-work, and she'll put up at the inn there for severaldays."

  Dan thanked the mountaineer for the trouble he had taken, adding, "Therereally is no place here to keep the horse. I suppose that is why itwandered up to you. As soon as Jean Sawyer comes again, I will send itback."

  The mountaineer assured the boy: "No need to do that, Danny, if you'dlike to keep it. I'll jest let it into my corral along of Bag-o'-Bones.They seem to be actin' friendly enough." The man was about to leave, whenDan said, "Mr. Heger, we boys have been over to Crazy Creek Camp todayand we are rather puzzled about something."

  He then told what they had seen, ending with, "We're afraid that old Utecame to life, and that he will continue to blackmail Meg."

  The mountaineer shook his head, saying: "No, Danny, Slinkin' Coyote'llnever more be seen in these parts, lest be it's his ghost. Arter Meg tol'me what had happened, I went down to put the sheriff wise. He reckoned'twouldn't do, no-how, to leave the body unburied, and that the county'dhave to tend to it."

  The girls uttered sighs of relief. Jane rose, when the mountaineer haddeparted, saying, "Well, now, I guess we can all sleep without fear of avisit from Slinking Coyote."