Aunt Jane's Nieces on the Ranch Part 19

"Don't worry, dear. Little Jane has been found and is now in this very house. So try to be quiet and go to sleep again."

"Bring her to me; bring my darling at once!" begged Louise. But the doctor now interfered.

"I don't wish to disturb baby at present," he said positively. "I think the child is sleeping. You have been quite ill, Mrs. Weldon, and I must insist on your remaining quiet. Here; drink this, if you please."

Louise, rea.s.sured, drank the potion and presently sank into another doze. Dr. Knox remained beside her for a time but Patsy hurried back to the blue room, eager to a.s.sist in the rescue of the prisoners.

"I'm afraid we're a stupid lot," Uncle John was saying as she entered; "or else the Spanish don was remarkably clever. We know the wall is hollow, and we know there's an opening, yet we can't solve the riddle."

But here came Miguel and two strong men laden with steel bars, cold chisels and picks. For a time it was a quandary where to attack the wall, but Arthur finally chose the place just back of the bed and bade the men begin their work.

The adobe proved harder than the hardest brick. Old Miguel knew that it must be broken away bit by bit, for he was not unacquainted with the material, yet even under his skillful direction the work progressed with aggravating slowness.

Daylight gradually crept into the room and rendered lamps unnecessary.

The morning discovered a very disheveled, heavy-eyed group, not a single member of which was willing to retire from the fascinating scene of rescue.

Patsy went away to arouse Sing Fing and the servants, some of whom she found had remained awake all night. In half an hour steaming hot coffee was brought to the blue room and gratefully consumed by the weary watchers. Breakfast of a substantial character would soon be ready and it was agreed that part of them should eat at one time while the others remained to watch and to call them promptly if anything new developed.

Arthur, too nervous to stand idly by, insisted on attacking the wall in another place and Runyon a.s.sisted him, the latter's strength and muscle winning the admiration of all observers. He worked fiercely for a time, driving in the bar with stalwart blows and chipping off huge pieces of adobe. Then, dripping with perspiration, he retired in favor of Arthur and rested by taking a seat in the window, where the cool morning air could fan him.

Patsy noticed Runyon in this position, his back against the redwood planks and his legs stretched out on the window-seat; but the work on the wall drew her attention, as it did that of everyone else.

Suddenly there was a crash and a loud report-followed by a shrill cry-and as every eye turned to the window they found that Runyon's great body had absolutely disappeared. A rush was made to the window, but he did not seem to have fallen out. There was no sign of him at all. As if by magic, he was gone.

While they stood amazed and half frightened by the marvel of the thing, Patsy recovered sufficiently to say:

"Quick-let us get below! He must be under those rose vines, perhaps crushed and badly hurt."

So they made for the door and flocked downstairs and out into the garden. The vines seemed undisturbed. When the men pushed them aside there was no evidence of the big rancher to be seen. In fact, they were all convinced that Runyon had not fallen out of the window.

Slowly they returned to the blue room, where the major exclaimed, with positive emphasis:

"This room is haunted. Don't talk to me! There's no other explanation.

If we don't watch out, we'll all disappear-and that'll be the end of us!"

CHAPTER XIII-THE WAY IT HAPPENED

Through consideration for the nerves and perhaps the credulity of the reader, it may be advisable at this juncture to go a little back in our story and relate the circ.u.mstances which led to the present perplexing crisis. A great detective once said that "every mystery has a simple solution"-meaning, of course, that the solution is simple when once discovered. Therefore, the puzzling mystery of the disappearance of baby Jane and her two nurses, followed later by the vanishment of Mr. Bulwer Runyon, was due to the one-time idiosyncracy of a certain Senor Cristoval, happily deceased, rather than to any supernatural agency.

Until now we have only known Mildred Travers, as she called herself, in a casual way. We know that she was considered a competent nurse and had proved her capability in the care of baby Jane. Also we know that she was silent and reserved and that her eyes bore an habitual expression that was hard and repellent. Without being able to find any especial fault with the girl, no one was attracted toward her-always excepting the baby, who could not be expected to show discrimination at her tender age.

A little of Mildred's former history had escaped her, but not enough to judge her by. She had once lived in Southern California, near this very place. She had visited this house frequently with her father, when a small child, and old Senor Cristoval had confided to her some of the secrets of the mansion. That was all. What had become of friends and family, how she went to New York and studied nursing, or what might account for that hard look in her eyes, no one now acquainted with her knew.

The Mexican girl, Inez, was nearly as peculiar and unaccountable as Mildred. There was no mystery about her, however, except that she was so capable and intelligent, considering her antecedents. Inez' people lived in a small town in another part of the county and the girl was one of a numerous brood of children whose parents were indolent, dissipated and steeped in ignorance. When fourteen years old she had left home to work for some of the neighboring ranchers, never staying in one place long but generally liked by her employers. The woman who had recommended Inez to Mrs. Weldon said she was bright and willing and more intelligent than most Mexicans of her cla.s.s, but that she possessed a violent temper.

Louise had seen little evidence of that temper, however, for Inez from the first loved her new mistress and idolized the baby. It was only after Mildred came to supplant her, as she thought, that the girl developed an unreasoning, pa.s.sionate hatred for the other nurse and was jealous of every attention Mildred lavished upon the little one.

The baby was impartial. She laughed and held out her chubby fists to either nurse, perhaps realizing that both were kind to her. It was this that made Inez so furious and caused Mildred to disdain the Mexican girl. The two were at sword's points from the first, although after a little Mildred made an attempt to conciliate Inez, knowing that the untutored Mexican was by nature irresponsible and jealous, but withal loving and generous.

Inez did not respond to these advances, but as the days pa.s.sed she became less sullen when in the presence of Mildred, and at times, when busied over her duties, so far forgot her animosity as to converse with her in her old careless, unaffected way. Only Mildred was able to note this slight change, and it encouraged her to believe she might win Inez'

confidence in the end. Inez herself did not realize that she had changed toward the "witch-woman," and when brooding over her fancied wrongs hated Mildred as cordially as ever.

On the day when the Weldons and their guests rode into town, the two nurses had indulged in a longer and more friendly conversation than usual. It began by Mildred's chiding the Mexican for taking baby to the quarters unknown to her, as she had been obliged to follow to see what had become of the child. Inez retorted by accusing Mildred of spying upon her. Their return to the house was anything but friendly, and Inez flatly refused to obey such instructions as Mildred gave her for the care of baby. She even walked out of the court in a temper and was gone for an hour. Then she stole in, a little ashamed of her revolt, but still defiant and rebellious.

They were in the nursery and Mildred pretended not to notice her a.s.sistant's mood.

"I have prepared two bottles of baby's food," said she. "Please place one in the hollow of the wall, in your room, to keep cool until we need it."

"I won't!" said Inez.

"Why not?" asked Mildred quietly.

"Because you are witch-woman," cried the Mexican; "because you use bad magic to make hollow in wall; because you try to make baby witch-woman, like yourself, by keeping her milk in the witch-place; because-because-I _hate_ you!" she concluded with a pa.s.sionate stamp of her foot.

Mildred looked upon the girl pityingly as she crossed herself again and again as if in defiance of the supposed witchcraft. The poor girl sought by this method to ward off any evil charm Mildred might attempt in retaliation, and the action nettled the trained nurse because the unjust accusation was so sincerely made.

She slowly rose and taking the bottle of milk carried it herself to the hollow in the wall and placed it upon a shelf. Then, returning, she stood before the petulant, crouching Mexican and said gently:

"Were I truly a witch, Inez, I would not be working as a nurse-just as you are. Nor do I know any magic, more than you yourself know."

"Then how you know about that hole in the wall?" demanded Inez.

"I wish you would let me explain that. Indeed, I think a good talk together will do us both good. Take this chair beside me, and try to believe in my good will. I do not hate you, Inez. I wish you did not hate me."

Inez slowly rose from the floor and seated herself in the chair, turning it so that she could eye Mildred's face as she spoke.

"When I was a girl," continued Mildred, "I often came to this house to visit. Sometimes I stayed here for several days, while my father talked with his old friend, old Senor Cristoval."

"That is a lie," a.s.serted Inez. "I have ask Miguel, who is here forty years, an' was house servant for Senor Cristoval. Miguel say there is no Senor Travers who is friend of Senor Cristoval. No Senor Travers did ever come to this house for visit. What you say to that, Witch-Woman?"

Mildred flushed and seemed embarra.s.sed. Then she answered calmly:

"I think Miguel speaks truly, for my father did not bear the name of Travers. He was called by another name."

"Then why do you call yourself Travers?" retorted the other.

Mildred hesitated.

"I did not like my old name," she said, "and so I changed it. But this is a secret I have told you, Inez, and you must not tell anyone of it."

Inez nodded, looking at the other curiously. This confession had aroused her sympathy, for the first time, for her fellow nurse. The fact that there was a secret between them dissolved to an extent her antipathy for Mildred, and it might be a bond to eventually draw them nearer together.

With more tolerance than she had yet shown she asked:

"Did Senor Cristoval show you the secrets of this house?"