Madge Morton, Captain of the Merry Maid Part 15

Phil's humming upstairs stopped. Why did that lazy farmer boy not get to his work? And where were Lillian and Nellie? Phil listened. She thought she heard such an odd noise. It was as though some one were trying to talk while choking. She ran lightly down the outside cabin steps, her broom still in her hand. She peered into the kitchen. It was empty. Phil did not go into the sitting room next. Some instinct must have guided her. Had she seen the plight poor Lillian and Eleanor were in, she must have screamed and betrayed herself. Instead she stepped into Miss Jones's bedroom.

The youth, with his back to the door, had ears like the creatures of the woods. Under other circ.u.mstances he would have heard Phyllis's approach. But something in the discovery of Miss Jenny Ann's poor little purse seemed to give him special joy. He was opening it and emptying it of its last penny.

Phil saw him from the open cabin door. She did not think--she acted.

She saw, as she supposed, the farmer lad, intent on robbing them. Phil brought her broom down on the boy's head with a resounding whack.

The tramp started forward with a growl. For the moment he was nearly blinded from the pain of the blow.

Phil recognized that discretion was now the better part of valor. She dashed out of one door, then into another, the youth stumbling after her, raging with anger. She knew every turn and twist of the tiny cabin. Instead of running around the deck, where she would surely have been captured, she darted in and out of the cabin doors, those on the inside, swinging backward and forward, sometimes closing a door in the face of her pursuer.

She was almost overcome with horror when she saw Lillian and Eleanor in the sitting-room. Lillian could not speak, but her eyes pleaded with Phil. Phyllis had no reason not to cry out. As she ran she screamed with all her might:

"Help, help, help!" Some one would soon be pa.s.sing along the sh.o.r.e who would come to their aid.

The thief did not like the noise Phyllis made. He also thought her cries would be heard on the sh.o.r.e. He had found what he wanted. He had no idea of being caught on the houseboat. But he had spied Eleanor's caramel cake on the table. He would take that and be off in a hurry.

As he grabbed Eleanor's cake, the product of her morning's work and the chief ornament of their tea party, Eleanor opened her eyes. The sight was more than she could bear. She gave a heart-rending scream. It added to the tramp's alarm. He made for the sh.o.r.e as fast as he could run.

Phil saw him start. She ran back of the kitchen and caught up something that lay coiled in a heap on the deck. As the thief ran down the gang plank and leaped on the land, it flew through the air with a hissing, swinging noise. The youth fell face downward, his arms close to his sides, letting the beloved cake drop to the ground.

Not for nothing had Miss Phyllis Alden seen Miss Jenny Ann rescued from a wild bull by means of a la.s.so. Not for nothing had she spent hours of her time, and one of her few dollars, in acquiring the skill necessary to the swinging of a lariat. She now had her enemy held fast. At the same instant that Phil caught her prey, before he had time to jerk away, she knotted her rope about the cleat that held the anchor.

On the sh.o.r.e, the youth tugged and strained. He ran back into the water. It struck him that he might climb aboard the boat again. But his arms were caught down at his sides. It was impossible for him to get at a knife to cut the ropes. He could ease off the noose with his teeth, but it would be a slow process of escape.

As soon as Phil had her victim fast, she rushed back into the sitting room. She found Eleanor on her feet, engaged in untying the handkerchief from Lillian's face and cutting the twine that was bound about her swollen wrists.

"I've caught the enemy and he is ours," declared Phil cheerfully. "I have him tied to the side of the boat. I can't say how long it may take him to get away, and he may climb back on the boat and try to eat us up. But, at least, we can get ready for him."

The robber was doggedly working at the rope that bound him. "I am going to get back at you," he yelled savagely.

"Oh, why doesn't some one come?" cried Eleanor. "I am so afraid he'll get away."

There was a cheerful whistle at the top of the embankment. It turned to one of horrified amazement as the artist, Theodore Brown, took in the situation.

"What has happened?" he called out as he ran down the hill, swinging a small stick in his hand. "I heard your screams away over in the fields. What have you got there?"

Phil told the story, "What shall we do with our prisoner, Mr. Brown?

We can't be bothered with him. We must get ready for our tea party,"

she concluded.

"I don't know what you wish to do with the young rascal," rejoined Mr.

Brown, "but I know very well what I intend to do." The artist's face was set and stern. His eyes gleamed with righteous anger. Then he began calmly rolling up his sleeves. He went forward to the prisoner.

"I am going to give you a taste of this," he declared, swinging his stick through the air. It hit Phil's captive with a swish, once, twice, three times. Mr. Brown was just warming up to his work.

"Leave me alone," the fellow howled. "Aren't you a coward to hit me when I can't get at you!"

"You were not troubled about being a coward when you tried to terrorize three girls and got pretty badly left," Mr. Brown answered coolly, giving the youth another cut.

The bully groaned. The girls could not endure it. If the lad had taken his medicine like a man they might have borne the sight of his punishment. But there is nothing more sickening than the fear of a coward.

"Please stop now, Mr. Brown," entreated Lillian. "I am sure you have punished the boy enough. Make him give up the money he has stolen, but don't beat him any more."

"No, please, don't beat him any more," echoed Eleanor.

Phil could have endured to see the thrashing continue a little longer.

But she did not wish to appear hard-hearted.

"Just as you like," answered Mr. Brown. "I am enjoying myself, but I will quit if you say so. Don't you think I had better turn him over to the police?"

"No," Phil protested. "He won't trouble us again, now he knows we can look after ourselves. Next time he wouldn't get off so easily."

The youth vowed never to come within the range of the houseboat if he were permitted to go free this time. As he got out of sight he stopped to shake his fist at the distant houseboat, and he vowed to be revenged for the punishment he had received if it cost him his life.

The girls begged Mr. Brown to say nothing to their chaperon of their encounter. Miss Jenny Ann was already dreadfully nervous about them and, besides, it would spoil Madge's home coming.

By the middle of the afternoon Eleanor had made another caramel cake and Lillian another plate of fudge. The farmer boy had come down after luncheon, and had scrubbed the decks of the houseboat to the last degree of cleanliness. The girls had hung flags everywhere, and on the outside of the cabin, facing the water, Phyllis had hung a piece of white bunting with the word "Welcome" stamped on it in large letters.

This was the first thing Madge would see as she came within sight of the houseboat.

Inside the cabin the table was set for tea. It held the best pickles, preserves, cold meats and jellies that the houseboat larder could furnish. Lillian had made a pitcher of lemonade and another of iced tea. Miss Jones had roasted potatoes, and her corn m.u.f.fins were ready to slip into the oven as soon as she heard their friends approaching.

The three girls and their chaperon wore simple white frocks, with blue sashes knotted about their waists, for blue and white were the houseboat colors.

They were watching a golden sunset from the deck of their ship when, together, they espied a figure standing up in a small skiff that was moving in their direction. The boat was rowed by one man. The other man sat with his arm in a sling. The upright figure was waving a great bunch of flowers.

"Madge is coming!" cried Phil. The four women got out their handkerchiefs and shouted across the water.

As Madge climbed aboard the boat a strange, squeaky sound greeted her.

First it played fast, then slow. It was undoubtedly music.

"My bonnie lies over the ocean, My bonnie lies over the sea, My bonnie lies over the ocean, Oh, bring back my bonnie to me."

The tune was old as the hills.

"What on earth is that?" demanded Madge, as she kissed her chaperon and started around the semi-circle of her chums.

"It's Lillian's surprise!" Eleanor explained. "It's a hurdy-gurdy. We found it in the village. I know it is pretty old. But Lillian persuaded the man to bring it on board, as we thought it would be jolly to have a dance on the deck to-night in honor of Miss Madge Morton, captain of the 'Merry Maid.'"

CHAPTER XV

A CALL FOR HELP

"Madge, you must go over to Fisherman's Island with me," urged Phil a few days later. "I feel dreadfully about Mollie. I promised the poor girl that we would come to see her soon. Now, a long time has pa.s.sed; we have never been there. Eleanor and Lillian are anxious to go along with me. Mollie is perfectly lovely, and I am heartily sorry for her.

Do come with us, there's a dear. Don't pretend you are tired, or make Miss Jones think you are sick. You are just as well now as any of the rest of us. If you don't come, it is just because you want to stay here to read that silly novel. Real people are much more interesting than stories."

Madge yawned and stretched herself lazily in the steamer chair. "Phil, it is awfully hot on the water. Couldn't we go to see your girl some other time? If she has waited this long, she may as well wait a little longer. You see, I promised Mrs. Curtis I wouldn't go out in the sun."