The Castaways of Pete's Patch

by Carroll Watson Rankin

  CHAPTER II

  The Troubled Whale

  MR. BLACK, his fine dark eyes sparkling with pleasure; his crisp hair,plentifully sprinkled with white, standing upright from his broad,benevolent brow, looked with approval at his party as he packed hismerry guests very carefully into his big touring car.

  Jean, who was tall and not particularly wide for her fourteen and ahalf years, was attractive because of the serene loveliness of herexpression; one knew at a glance that she was a _good_ child. Oneguessed, just as quickly, that Henrietta was sometimes naughty, foran impish light danced in her long-lashed black eyes and there was amischievous dimple in the dusky crimson of her cheek. Next to Jean inheight and age, she seemed older and yet less responsible--one couldn'tbe quite sure of spirited Henrietta Bedford.

  Marjory, two years younger, was both short and narrow for her age; andso very fair that one had to guess at her eyebrows. But she, too,was a pretty child, for her small features were pleasing and her palegolden hair was quite wonderful. Like Henrietta, she was quick andgraceful in all her movements.

  Bettie, also between twelve and thirteen, was now mostly eyes; big,velvety brown ones that played pranks with one's heart-strings;particularly with those of Mr. Black and Mrs. Crane. She had lost allher short, curly brown hair during her illness; it was now coming in,shorter and curlier than ever.

  Mabel, the youngest of the group, was also the broadest. But herundeniable plumpness did not detract from her looks. One couldn'thelp liking her honest brown eyes, the wholesome red and white of herrounded countenance, her sturdy, childlike figure, and the rich bronzeof her abundant--and frequently untidy--hair.

  Mrs. Crane, brown as to skin, black as to eyes, stout, elderly, andwarm-hearted, was very like her brother, except that she sometimesworried. Mr. Black never did.

  Finally all these good people, with a coat or sweater for each girl,with two big hampers of food from Mr. Black's home, with severalbaskets of picnic lunch from the other houses, were stowed away in thecapacious car. Mr. Black called his automobile the "Whale," becauseonce, for a few weeks, it had been driven by Jonah Higginsworth, who,however, was so frequently cast forth by this modern whale, owingto dangerously reckless driving, that Mr. Black had been obliged todischarge him.

  "We are seven," said Mr. Black, taking the chauffeur's seat. "I'm goingto drive this car myself; they say the road's a bit rough--isn't usedmuch. Seven's a good number."

  "Eight's better," retorted Henrietta, diving into a silk bag anddragging forth a queer bundle of mottled fur.

  "What's that?" demanded Mr. Black. "I didn't invite anybody like thatto _my_ picnic."

  "Just a kitten," explained Henrietta, waving him for all to see. "Iadopted him yesterday, but nobody in our house likes him, so I have to_wear_ him--he's very tame."

  "He looks," laughed Bettie, "just like the pudding Mabel made for metwo weeks ago; purple, yellow, and white, all jumbled together--let'sname him Ambrosial Delight."

  "No," objected Henrietta, "he's already named Anthony Fitz-Hubert."

  "Because he has fits?" asked Marjory.

  "He _doesn't_. Just see how calm he is."

  Doctor Bennett, Doctor Tucker, Marjory's Aunty Jane, and all themothers stood on the sidewalk to see the merry party started on itsway. Henrietta's dignified little grandmother sat in her carriage.

  "Don't worry if we're late," said Mr. Black, turning to this trustingassemblage and not guessing how very late he was going to be. "Theother end of our road may prove a trifle heavy; the day's so fine thatwe're not going to hurry, anyhow. Good-by till you see us again--we'lltake the very best care of all your precious girls. Good-by,good-by----"

  "Just where are you going?" shrieked Aunty Jane, a moment too late.

  For the picnic, kitten and all, was already spinning joyously away;and never was there a happier party. At first the inviting road was allthat road should be, for constant use kept it in excellent condition.After the first two miles, however, the going was only fair, as itwas necessary to proceed rather slowly because spring rains haduncovered big boulders that it seemed best to avoid. Also there werechickens--never had the Whale's way been so beset by loitering hens.When these had finally been left behind, the Whale came to a pleasantstretch of country road partly overgrown with short, fragrant grass.

  "If it's all like this," said Mrs. Crane, sniffing contentedly, "itwon't take long to travel seventeen miles."

  Unfortunately, it wasn't like that for any great distance. Soon theWhale was panting laboriously up a long, stony hill; down whicha foolish little creek that had strayed from its proper bed wasmeandering aimlessly but with most disastrous results. It had madedeep, jagged, treacherous furrows that had to be skilfully avoided; soit took considerable time to climb the damaged hill. After that, theroad was sandy.

  The sand in northern Michigan seems sandier than any other sand. Mr.Black was certain that it was at least a mile deep along that dreadfulroad, skirted by a dreary stretch of small poplars. But far ahead, thisdauntless man could see the beckoning green of lofty trees--he fixedhopeful eyes on that and coaxed the groaning Whale to nobler efforts.Where the sand was deepest, everybody but Bettie and Mr. Black gotout and walked--or waded along the dusty roadside; and sometimes theypushed the Whale when that weary leviathan threatened to stick. Atlength, however, the dusty car lurched heavily into the grateful shadeof a fine forest road, carpeted smoothly with pine needles and thedecaying leaves of oak, maple, and elm trees, whose branches, green andlovely with spring foliage, met overhead.

  "Oh," breathed Bettie, lying back luxuriously among her cushions,"isn't this just beautiful!"

  "Let's go slowly," pleaded Mrs. Crane. "It's years since I've seen suchwoods. I declare! I'd like to stay right here."

  "I guess the mosquitoes 'd be glad to have you," said Mr. Black. "Areall those girls aboard? They won't need to do any walking as long asthis lasts--it was _made_ for the Whale!"

  Unfortunately, the beautifully smooth ground stretched before them foronly a few precious moments, though the forest itself grew wilder andmore interesting at every turn of the wheels. After a time, the roadbegan to dip steadily downward. Presently the Whale was sliding overclay, pushing through deep, clinging mire, splashing through puddles ofstagnant water, or bumping over stretches of half-submerged corduroy.

  "Peter," said Mrs. Crane, rather nervously, when her patient, elderlybrother had climbed out for the fourth time to pull long ropes oftangled weeds out of the wheels, "don't you think we'd better give upand turn back? It's getting worse and worse."

  "No," returned Mr. Black, "I don't. I started out to look at that landand I'm going to find it. Besides, Timothy Burbank drove over this roadthis spring and he says it's open all the way to Barclay's Point--myplace is a mile this side of Barclay's."

  "But Timothy rode in a buckboard."

  "He said he guessed the Whale could make it and I've no reason to doubthis word. Anyhow, we're going on--we're so muddy now that a little morewon't hurt us; and there's one comfort; there are no steep precipiceson this road for us to tumble from."

  It was fortunate, too, that Mr. Black carried a hatchet, becauseseveral times it became necessary to chop fallen trees--luckily theywere small ones--out of the road; and once it was necessary to repair abroken bridge; but the girls, who helped with that, thoroughly enjoyedthe task. Occasionally, the Whale was obliged to ford a certain smallriver that crossed the road an astonishing number of times. Also, withincreasing frequency, Mr. Black was obliged to crawl under the car tosee what was the matter with the machinery; but, on the whole, theWhale behaved surprisingly well.

  Presently the road which, up to that moment, had stretched mainlytoward the north, turned sharply toward the east.

  "Ah!" breathed Mr. Black, with a deep sigh of satisfaction. "Timothysays our place is just three miles from this turn. Does anybody want togo back _now_?"

  Nobody did, so the Whale pushed on; and, wonder of wonders! For a wholedelightful mile the road was good, alluringly go
od. The big car fairlypranced with pleasure, and all the passengers settled back comfortablyagainst the cushions. But after that one deceiving mile! Never wasthere a more discouraging stretch of road--if it _were_ road. Sunkenboulders, slime-covered water, deep black mud, rotting corduroy,jutting logs, weed-grown swamp. The Whale's passengers were jounced andjolted, spattered and scratched. Low-growing branches slapped theirfaces and reached maliciously for unguarded tresses. Altogether, thisfinal two miles of wilderness surpassed all the rest--suppose therewere no bottom to that mud! Even Henrietta was too frightened forspeech.

  Finally the Whale, with a last despairing gasp that died away to analarming silence, refused to go a single inch farther.

  "It's all out for everybody," said Mr. Black, who now looked asconcerned as the others. "Something's given out--it's not surprising."

  "But," objected Mrs. Crane, "how are we to get home?"

  "Hush, woman," returned Mr. Black, whimsically, "folks on their way_to_ a picnic don't talk about going home. Let's get there first."

  "Why!" cried light-footed Marjory, who had darted ahead and back againwith her news, "we're out of that swamp, anyway. This road goes rightuphill and it's sandy."

  "Good!" exclaimed Mr. Black. "That means that we're almost there. Comeback, Marjory, and get your share of the load; everybody must carrysomething. Bettie, can you walk half a mile if you're helped over therough places?"

  "A whole mile if I have to--I'm not tired."

  "The air," remarked Jean, sniffing curiously, when the party hadreached the top of the brief ascent, "smells different. My! Isn't itgood! I feel it way down inside of me."

  "It's the lake," explained Mr. Black. "In less than ten minutes you'regoing to see something."

  The prediction proved true. In a very few moments the road branched,the right fork led them north, then swerved again toward the east, theforest stopped with a suddenness that was startling, and the picnicfound itself in a wide, grassy clearing at the very edge of the big,blue lake. The bigness and the blueness were dazzling. The curved beachstretched like a broad golden ribbon in either direction.

  "This," said Mr. Black, "is the place."

  "Oh, Peter!" cried Mrs. Crane, dropping her end of the heaviest hamper."How much of it is ours?"

  "Every scrap. All that you can see."

  "What! Down to that rocky point?"

  "Yes, and up the other way to that other rocky point--a whole mile ofshore line."

  "And the island off that little projection--is _that_ ours?"

  "Every inch of it."

  "Why, Peter!"

  "Fine, isn't it? We own a river, too--there's the mouth of it down theshore. What do you think of it all, Sarah?"

  "Peter, it's--it's heaven!"

  "And uninhabited," declared Mr. Black, supposing that he was speakingthe exact truth, "except for our seven selves."

  There was, however, an eighth inhabitant; and a human one at that. Butfor the time being no one suspected it.