“I don’t know,” said Annie. “I think Sam forgot us in all the excitement.”
“Like when Tad forgot me under the bed in the White House,” said Jack.
“Jack! Annie!” Sam came running out of the cabin, calling to them in the fading light.
“He didn’t forget us!” said Annie.
She and Jack stepped out of the cowshed.
“We’re here!” Annie called.
“I want to give you something!” said Sam. He held up a quill pen and a small bottle. “I told you about these. The pen’s made from the feather of a goose, and the ink’s from the roots of a blackberry bush. I want you to have them.”
“Oh, no, Sam,” said Jack. “You keep them. You need them more.”
“Take ’em,” said Sam. “I want to thank you for staying by me when I was feeling poorly, and for trying to do my chores. Your kindness truly helped me.”
“But we didn’t do any chores, not one!” said Annie.
“You tried, though,” said Sam. “And most important, you both love what I love most: readin’ and writin’. Please.” Sam handed Jack the quill pen and the ink bottle. “Use them to write something special.”
“We will,” said Annie. “I can carry them, Jack.” He handed her Sam’s treasures, and she put them into her apron pocket. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” said Sam. “And what I was going to tell you is—”
“Yes—” Jack started.
But before Jack could finish, a WHOOSH and a ROAR shook the earth, like a speeding train passing by. The ground opened, and Jack felt as if he were falling through space,
through a tunnel,
down through blackness,
into a world of daylight.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Abe Lincoln at Last!
Jack and Annie looked around in a daze. They were under the trees near the tree house, standing in the same spot where they’d sipped the potion. The air was chilly but bright. A fresh breeze rustled the branches.
“The magic ended,” said Jack, stunned. “It ended before we could complete our mission.”
“I know,” Annie said. “And we didn’t get to say good-bye to Sam.”
“I didn’t even thank him for the quill pen and the ink,” said Jack.
“I know. These were his treasures,” said Annie. She held up the goose feather and the ink jar that Sam had given them.
“Wait, that’s so weird,” said Jack. “We’re looking for a feather, and Sam gives us a pen made out of a feather—”
Annie gasped. “Look, Jack!” She pointed toward the carriageway.
A tall man in a dark coat and a high black hat was striding toward the grove of trees. He turned his head, as if he were searching for something.
“At last!” said Jack.
“Mr. President!” Annie called. She thrust the quill pen and ink bottle back into her pocket and ran toward Abraham Lincoln.
“Wait!” said Jack, running after her. “What’ll we say?”
“We’ll figure it out!” said Annie. “Mr. President!”
Abraham Lincoln turned and looked in their direction. He froze and stared at them, as if he were both astonished and afraid.
What’s wrong with him? thought Jack. As they got closer to the president, Jack and Annie slowed to a walk. Abraham Lincoln kept staring at them as if they were ghosts.
“Hello, sir,” Annie said shyly.
Jack was speechless.
The creases in the president’s face gave him a deeply worried look. His gray eyes stared at them without blinking. “So it is you,” he said in a hushed voice. “Tad told me your names, but I could not believe it might really be you.”
“What do you mean?” Annie asked.
“You don’t know who I am?” he said.
“You’re Abraham Lincoln,” said Annie. “President of the United States.”
“Yes, but I spent the day with you once long ago,” said the president. “And you vanished, right before my eyes.”
“We did?” said Annie.
“Outside our log cabin in Indiana,” said the president.
“Indiana?” said Jack.
“Yes, it was the day my father brought my stepmother home—and my new sisters and brother.”
“Oh … oh!” said Annie.
“What?” said Jack.
“You were Sam!” said Annie.
“You were Sam?” said Jack. He couldn’t believe it.
The president nodded.
Annie laughed. “So when we told you we were looking for Abraham Lincoln, you played a prank on us and told us your name was Sam!”
Abraham Lincoln smiled. “I haven’t seen you since that day so long ago,” he said. “And you haven’t changed at all. I don’t understand. Are you angels? Are you a dream?”
Jack was too stunned to answer. It wasn’t long ago, it was today, he thought. Or—maybe not. Time and magic were confusing things.
“We’re just regular kids, not angels,” said Annie. “But maybe you should think of it all as a dream—a dream with a little magic thrown in.”
Abraham Lincoln nodded slowly. Then he smiled. “I remember you tried to do my chores,” he said, “and you thought some wild creature was chasing you. And you told me that your interjections were ‘Oh, wow!’ and ‘Oh, man!’ ”
“Right,” said Jack, smiling.
“You also said you loved learning and you loved to read,” said the president. “And you loved to write stories.”
“And you said you loved to do that, too,” said Annie. “So you gave us these.” She pulled the ink bottle and the quill pen out of her apron pocket. “These were yours once, remember?”
Abraham Lincoln stared at the ink bottle and feather pen. “Yes,” he said. “I made them from blackberry roots and a goose feather.”
“Oh, man,” whispered Jack. For the first time it fully dawned on him that Sam—who was really Abraham Lincoln—had given them a feather! The rhyme was starting to make perfect sense!
“Why have you come back?” asked the president.
Now Jack knew exactly what to say. “We have to give you a message of hope,” he answered. He reached for the notebook in his pocket.
“Jack’s right,” said Annie. “Just a second.” She opened the ink bottle and dipped the goose-feather pen into the ink. Then she handed the pen to Jack. “What should we say?” she whispered.
“Well, the Civil War is going to have a good ending,” Jack whispered back. “All the country will come together.”
“With freedom for everybody,” whispered Annie.
“I’ll write something about all that,” said Jack. He thought for a second, and using the goose-feather pen, he scratched a message on a page in his notebook:
Never lose hope. This land will live
peacefully as one nation one day,
with freedom for everyone.
“You told us to use your quill pen and your blackberry ink to write something special,” Jack said. He tore out the page and handed it to the president of the United States. “This is it.”
Abraham Lincoln read the words on the paper. When he looked at Jack and Annie, the creases in his face had softened. His eyes had grown bright. “Oh, wow,” he said softly.
Jack and Annie laughed.
“Do you really think so?” the president asked. “Do you promise?”
“Yes. I need to add something,” said Jack. He took the note back from the president and wrote:
We give you our word.
—Jack and Annie
A shout came from the distance: “Pa! Pa!”
It was Tad. He was running up the carriageway, with Willie right behind him.
“Mr. President, we have to leave now,” said Jack.
“Really?” said Abraham Lincoln. He looked sad for a moment. Then he looked at his boys running toward him. “Yes, of course, I understand,” he said.
“We’ll never forget our times with you, Sam,” said Annie.
&nb
sp; “Nor will I forget,” said Abraham Lincoln.
The boys were getting closer.
“Here, sir,” said Jack. He gave the note back to the president. Then he and Annie started moving away.
“Good-bye!” they called to Abraham Lincoln.
The president waved and put their note in his pocket.
Then Jack and Annie quickly climbed up the ladder. Inside the tree house, they looked out the window. They saw Abraham Lincoln hurrying to meet his boys. When he caught up to them, he wrapped his arms around them both. They were all laughing.
“Abraham Lincoln’s a good dad,” said Annie.
“Yeah,” said Jack, smiling. “Well, we’d better go now. Before Tad tries to take the tree house away from us.”
Annie laughed. “He’ll be pretty surprised when he discovers it’s disappeared,” she said. She picked up the Pennsylvania book and pointed to a picture of the Frog Creek woods. “I wish we could go home!” she said.
The wind began to blow.
The tree house started to spin.
It spun faster and faster.
Then everything was still.
Absolutely still.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The Feather of Hope
A spring breeze was whispering through the trees. “We’re home,” said Jack. They were back in Frog Creek, wearing their own clothes again. Jack looked in his backpack and pulled out their book on Abraham Lincoln.
Annie reached into one of her jacket pockets. “Good, they’re still here!” she said. She took out Abraham Lincoln’s gifts: the bottle of blackberry ink and the goose-feather pen.
“Cool,” said Jack.
“Before we go, I want to look in our book and see if there’s a picture of Willie and Tad,” said Annie. She took the book from Jack and checked the index. “Yes!” Then she turned to a page on the Lincoln children.
Annie read for a moment, then she whispered a sad “Oh, no.” She closed the book and put it down. She looked terribly sad.
“What’s wrong? What did you read?” said Jack.
“I just read that Willie died of typhoid fever in 1862,” said Annie.
“Oh, no,” said Jack. “That was the year after we met him.”
“Poor Abraham Lincoln,” said Annie.
“Poor Tad,” said Jack.
“Yeah, he really needed Willie,” said Annie.
“And then Tad will lose his dad just four years later,” said Jack. “President Lincoln will get assassinated.”
“I know,” said Annie softly.
Jack didn’t know what to say. He felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. All his annoyance at Tad disappeared. He wished he’d been kinder to him.
“It doesn’t make sense, does it?” said Annie.
“I guess that’s why hope is such an important thing,” Jack said.
“What do you mean?” said Annie.
“We can’t explain why sad things happen,” Jack said. “All we can do is hope they make sense someday.”
“Like when?” said Annie. “When will they make sense?”
“I don’t know when,” said Jack. “Maybe not even in a person’s lifetime. Maybe in a world beyond this world.” He sighed. “Maybe we just have to accept that it’s a mystery.”
Annie nodded, blinking back tears. “Well, we brought back the feather of hope,” she said.
“And we gave hope to Abraham Lincoln,” said Jack.
“And he did really great things as president, didn’t he?” Annie said.
“Yeah, and he was a great dad, too,” said Jack.
Jack placed the feather of hope in the corner of the tree house next to the glacial buttercup and the emerald rose.
“There’s one more thing to get to save Penny,” said Annie.
“Tomorrow,” said Jack.
“Definitely,” said Annie. “Today I just want to live my normal life: have breakfast with Mom and Dad—”
“And go to school,” added Jack.
“We’re lucky we can go to school,” said Annie.
“Yeah,” said Jack. “And we’re lucky to have a nice house with heat and running water.”
“And comfortable beds,” said Annie. She started down the rope ladder.
“And lots of books,” said Jack. He grabbed his backpack and climbed down after her.
As Jack and Annie headed home between the trees, a breeze shook the wet branches. Sparkling raindrops filled the Frog Creek woods.
Author’s Note
When researching Abraham Lincoln, I was inspired by what his friends and family said about him. The sampling below taught me a lot about what kind of person he was.
From Dennis Hanks, Abraham Lincoln’s cousin:
“Abe was getting hungry for books, reading everything he could lay his hands on.… He would go to the cupboard, snatch a piece of corn bread, take down a book, sit down in a chair, cock his leg up as high as his head, and read.”
“[Abe] would commence his pranks, tricks, jokes, stories, and … all would stop—gather around Abe and listen.”
From Sarah Lincoln, Abraham Lincoln’s stepmother:
“Abe was a good boy … was diligent for knowledge … and if pains and labor would get it, he was sure to get it. He was the best boy I ever saw. He read all the books he could lay his hands on.”
“When he came across a passage [in a book] that struck him, he would write it down on boards if he had no paper and keep it there till he did get paper—then he would rewrite it, look at it [and] repeat it.”
“Abe never gave me a cross word or look, and never refused in fact, or even in appearance, to do anything I requested him.”
From a family friend of the Lincolns’:
“If there was any motto or slogan of the White House during the early years of the Lincolns’ occupancy it was this: ‘Let the children have a good time.…’ When the president came into the family sitting room and sat down to read, the boys would rush at him and demand a story. Tad perched precariously on the back of the big chair, Willie on one knee.…”
Now I hope that you will do your own fact-tracking—and enjoy learning more in the Magic Tree House Fact Tracker: Abraham Lincoln.
Coming July 2012
Don’t miss the next
Magic Tree House® book!
A Perfect Time for Pandas
Jack and Annie must rescue pandas during
an earthquake in China!
Magic Tree House #47: Abe Lincoln at Last! Page 5
