A Dixie School Girl Part 17

The moon was now dropping behind the distant range of the great North Mountains, the air was chill and penetrating, and the dense darkness which precedes the dawn enveloped all the world. Front Royal, save for a few scattered, flickering lights, lay in absolute darkness. Beverly drew a quick breath and shut her teeth hard. From Front Royal to Luray her way must be on dead reckoning and Apache's incomprehensible instinct, and those miles seemed to Beverly to be double the length of ordinary miles.

Still, she knew, that she could not go far astray if she kept between the railroad and the river, so plucking up her courage she fled through the sleeping town like a wraith. Once beyond it the roads branched and her first doubt had to be settled. Dismounting, she went close to the stone mile post and tried to read the sign. She managed to make out the name, but it might as well have been Greek. She knew nothing of the town indicated three miles beyond.

"Apache," she said desperately, "do you know that it's up to _you_?" Then she looked to her saddle cinch and her stirrup straps, took the little beast's head in her arms and hugged him, and kissed his velvety muzzle.

"Yes, it's up to you. You've got to pull out for Woodbine and Uncle Abel somehow."

Perhaps Uncle Abel's name was the pa.s.s word. At any rate, Apache nuzzled Beverly, neighed, pawed the ground impatiently, and indicated in every possible way that he would do all any horse could.

"All right then. Now make good!" and with a light spring she was again in the saddle.

There is no time to dwell in detail upon that dark, cold, terrible ride between Front Royal and Luray. Beverly had never been so cold in all her life. She let Apache choose his own way, and take his own gait, which was now slow and doubtful, and then like an arrow, as his confidence grew.

Luray was reached in time and skirted, then all was plain sailing to Sprucy Branch fourteen miles beyond. Apache had often been to Luray and knew every inch of that road, but Beverly was by that time nearly numb from the cold. Then:

"As if he knew the terrible need, He stretched away with the utmost speed.

Hills rose and fell, but his heart was gay With _Woodbine_ only eight miles away."

Three-thirty A. M. had just been struck by the ship's clock near the head of Admiral Seldon's bed, the "seven bells" rousing him slightly. He had never ceased counting time by "watches," and as sure as "morning watch"

drew near he would waken. The habits of early years are not readily forsaken.

The faintest suggestion of dawn was visible over the Blue Ridge when, instead of turning over again and settling down for his last, snug morning nap, the old gentleman started wide awake and keenly alert.

"Had he heard a horse neigh?" Impossible! The stables were too far from his bedchamber for any such sound to reach him. "Reckon I must have been dreaming of Beverly and her little skallawag," he said softly, and was about to settle down once more when a neigh, loud, clear and insistent, pierced the crisp morning air.

"What the ----?" he cried, springing out of bed with surprising agility for his years, and switching on the electric lights. Hurrying to the window which commanded the sweep of the driveway he peered out. In the faint light the indistinct outline of a horse was visible.

"Now which of those young devils of colts has escaped?" was his query, as he hastily donned his clothes, and started down stairs.

But that neigh had been heard by others also, and as the Admiral reached the end of the hall Mrs. Ashby came from her bedroom arrayed in bath robe and bed slippers.

"What is it?" she asked.

"The Lord only knows. One of those confounded colts broken loose I dare say, and if it is I'll crack Uncle Abel's head for him," and away he hurried.

But Uncle Abel, who possessed six instead of five senses, the sixth being "horse sense" had heard that neigh, too, and the ceremony of his robing requiring less time than the Admiral's, he was already speeding toward that sound as fast as his old legs would carry him. As he turned the corner of the house he was welcomed by a most jubilant neigh, and the next second had reached the steaming Apache, and exclaiming:

"Ma Lawd-Gawd-A'mighty, what done happen! Is dat yo', Miss Bev'ly? Baby!

Honey! Is yo' daid?" for a rigid, unconscious little figure was leaning forward with her arms clasped tightly around the panting horse's neck.

Quicker than it takes to tell it Abel had unclasped the clinging arms and was tenderly lifting her from the horse's back. At that moment the Admiral burst through the big front door and came striding across the lawn, storming at each step:

"You Abel! You old fool! How did that horse break loose? How----My G.o.d!

Who is that?" for he was now near enough to see the three figures and to hear Abel's sobs which punctuated his words as he held the helpless little figure in his arms.

"What is it? What has happened?"

"Gawd only knows, Mars Athol. But he'p me wid dis chile quick please sur.

She lak ter die ef we don' do some'n."

No need of that request. Relieved of his precious burden, Apache sped away for the stable, his duty faithfully performed. There many willing hands cared for him while his little mistress, the excitement, fatigue and cold having completed Miss Woodhull's cruel work, was tenderly carried into the house by old Abel and her uncle, the latter muttering:

"It's some of that d.a.m.ned woman's work! I know it is, and I'll bring the whole school down about her ears unless I find out the truth of it all.

My little girl! My little girl! Over thirty-five miles in the dead of night, alone and nearly frozen. Mary! Mary! Mammy! Everybody come quick and phone for Doctor Marshall!"

But Beverly was not dying, and within an hour, under her mother's and good old Mammy Riah's ministrations, was warm and snug in her bed, though weak and exhausted. When the doctor came he ordered absolute quiet and undisturbed rest. "She will soon drop off to sleep, and let her sleep for hours if she can. She is utterly worn out and as much from nerve strain as physical fatigue if I know anything of symptoms. What happened, Seldon?"

"The good Lord who brought her through it only knows, for I don't, though I mean to learn as soon as that child is in a condition to tell me. And then by the great guns something's going to let loose. I've talked with that stone image of a woman at Leslie Manor and I know what it can say.

It isn't a woman; It's a blight upon the s.e.x: A freak: It's _stone_, and when lightning strikes stone something bursts to smithereens. And by all that's powerful the lightning's going to strike _this_ time. Thirty-five miles all alone in the dead of the night. Marshall I'm all bowled over.

Good Lord! Good Lord!" The Admiral paced the library like a caged lion.

"A woman without children is only half a woman," sputtered fat little Doctor Marshall. "I'll be in again toward evening. Don't worry about her, for she'll come out all right. She has a const.i.tution like India rubber."

"Well may the Lord help that old maid if she doesn't!" was the Admiral's significant answer.

CHAPTER XVIII

WHEN THE LIGHTNING STRUCK

"Hurry up Bev! You'll be late for breakfast. You've done some sleeping since ten o'clock last night," called Sally, pounding upon the door of bedroom A, but getting no response.

Aileen had already knocked and called without eliciting a reply, and both the girls were worried but tried not to show it. When ten more minutes pa.s.sed in silence Aileen looked troubled and asked:

"Do you think she is ill? Ought we to call Miss Stetson?"

"Miss Stetson!" snapped Sally. "If she is ill she would rather see the old Nick himself than Miss Stetson. I'll run and get Mrs. Bonnell."

In spite of her anxiety Aileen laughed. True enough, Miss Stetson was not exactly the person to call in when one was ill. "That's true, Mrs.

Bonnell will be the one to call. But I wish Bev _would_ answer. It scares me almost to death. And I'd like right well to know what happened last night. Beverly Ashby is not the sort of girl to go up in the air over nothing, believe me, but she was pretty high up last night. Do go for Bonny, Sally. I'm too nervous to wait another minute."

"All right," and away sped Sally down the corridor. As she reached the foot of the stairs she almost ran into Wesley.

"Has yo' heard what done happen las' night, Miss Sally?" he asked excitedly.

"No. What was it?" asked Sally eagerly.

"Miss Bev'ly's hawse done been stole f'om de stable; saddle, bridle an'

all."

"Never!" cried Sally.

"Yas ma'am, dey done been! Jeff'son yonder in de study a-tellin' Miss Woodhull 'bout it right dis minute," and Wesley hurried away to the dining room.

"Apache stolen! Oh----" Sally gasped. She recalled the words which Beverly had spoken the very first hour of their acquaintance: "It would take very little to make me light out for Woodbine."

Six months had pa.s.sed since those words had been spoken, and during those months Beverly had known some lonely hours as well as happy ones; she had been made miserable more than once by Miss Bayliss, Miss Stetson and Miss Woodhull, who seemed to have conceived a most unmerited dislike for the girl. Sally knew nothing of Miss Woodhull's dislike for Admiral Seldon because he had presumed to question her policy, nor could a girl of Sally's sweet nature possibly understand the smallness of one which would take out upon a defenceless young girl the resentment which she harbored toward her older relative. Nevertheless, that was precisely the situation, and Miss Stetson and Miss Bayliss were Miss Woodhull's mirrors.