Madge Morton's Secret Part 12

In the meantime their chaperon and the other two girls had made a glorious fire. By ten o'clock the entire party was sound asleep.

Miss Jenny Ann had not meant to sleep. She had intended to watch the fire all night. But such an overpowering drowsiness crept over her that she rose and piled all the wood they had left with them on the fire at once. Then she, too, gave herself up to slumber.

Madge awoke first in the morning. She leaned over to see if her cousin, Nellie, were all right. Nellie's brown eyes smiled back at her. The two girls rose softly and ran lightly back into the forest for more wood for their fire, of which a few faint embers were still burning.

The forest was very dense. There were no paths through it from the side at which the girls penetrated. There were oak, walnut and beech trees growing in primeval beauty. Great cl.u.s.ters of wild grape vines, loaded with ripe fruit, climbed the trunks of the trees and swung from their branches. The bittersweet black haws were ripe. They were easy to gather from the low limbs of the small trees.

Madge and Eleanor found quant.i.ties of twigs and small logs. When they had piled up the wood near their sleeping friends they went back to the forest and returned with plenty of grape leaves for plates, and as much of the wild fruit as they could carry.

It added greatly to their breakfast, and immediately after the houseboat party started on an exploring expedition. They must surely find some one to help them. At first the little clan of girls kept near to the beach, expecting to find a fisherman's cottage or a boat. They were afraid to go too far back in the woods on account of the danger of losing their way. They had had no fresh water since the day before, except the small amount that Madge and Phil brought from the houseboat for use in their coffee. All were growing very thirsty, and apparently there was no one to aid them on the beach.

Miss Jenny Ann began to think that they had landed on an island. It was altogether uninhabited and so could not be any part of a main sh.o.r.e.

Madge led the way when they entered the woods. She traveled slowly ahead, forcing her path through the tangled underbrush. They must surely find a house on the other side of the woodland. Now they listened eagerly for the sound of a stream of running water.

They had walked until afternoon before they came to a clearing in the forest. They had dropped down to rest, when Phil heard a longed-for murmur. It tinkled and splashed and gurgled. Phil was on her feet again in an instant, running toward the noise, her companions close after her.

There, in an open s.p.a.ce, lay a pool of clear water, fed by a little stream that ran down a small embankment. At least it was a place of hope and refreshment, and they drank their fill of the clear, cold water. Somewhere near they must come across a house. Surely the island was not uninhabited.

Here the party divided, continuing the search in four directions. It was Lillian's call that brought them together again.

She stood in front of a small house. It was built of shingles, and the roof was made of cedar boughs. About a hundred feet off was another house of exactly the same kind. There was no sign of life anywhere about them. The paths in front of the doors were overgrown with weeds.

The five women knocked timidly on the first door. No sound came from behind it. They knocked again, then crossed over to the second house.

It, too, was deserted. There was nothing to do but push open the doors.

The first rusty latch yielded easily. The house contained a single dirty room. There was no furniture, except one or two old chairs. The four corners of the room were filled with hemlock branches, which must once have served as beds. A rusty rifle leaned against the wall. Beside it lay a box half filled with cartridges. An old iron pot rested on some burned-out ashes. The place did not appear to have been occupied for some time. The other lodge was furnished in much the same way.

"What does it mean?" inquired Miss Jenny Ann faintly, feeling her courage about to give out. "It can't be possible that we have come ash.o.r.e on an untenanted island?"

Phyllis clapped her hands. "Never you mind, Miss Jenny Ann; here is our home in these little houses until some one comes to find us," she declared undaunted.

"Hurrah for Phil!" cried Madge, catching her chum's spirit. Then, seeing the chaperon's expression, she went up to her and put her arms about her. "See here, Miss Jenny Ann, you are not to worry over us. We are going to have a good time. As long as we have got into this sc.r.a.pe, let's make the best of it. Don't you see it is rather a lark. Of course, I am sorry that our families and friends will be so dreadfully worried about us. But some one is sure to rescue us in a few days. We can keep our signals of distress fastened on to the houseboat and move up here to live. I am beginning to believe that this is a small island that is used for duck shooting. We have run across two hunting lodges.

The duck shooting begins the first week in November."

"November!" cried Miss Jenny Ann in horror. "Why, children, we will starve to death unless we are rescued before that time."

Madge and Eleanor laughed.

"Miss Jenny Ann does not know the woods at this time of the year, does she?" protested Eleanor. "We can play at being squirrels and live on nuts as soon as a frost comes."

"'There are as many fish in the sea as ever were caught'," quoted Lillian gayly.

"And crabs," added Phil. "And rabbits and birds and goodness knows what-all in the woods. Why, it is a perfectly wonderful adventure!

Suppose we are alone on this island? I'll wager you no American girls ever had an experience like this before."

It was a weary trip back to the houseboat, but there were so many plans to be made for this pioneer existence. The girls decided that they intended to play at being their own great-great grandmothers. They were settlers who had just landed on the sh.o.r.es of a new country. They must prove that they had the old fighting blood of their ancestors.

At the edge of the wood Madge gallantly seized hold of a good-sized log, dragging it toward the sh.o.r.e in the direction of the houseboat.

"What ho, my hearty?" questioned Phil, coming to her a.s.sistance. "What do you intend to do with this tree?"

"Kindly refer to your 'Robinson Crusoe' and your 'Swiss Family Robinson' and you will know. We must make a kind of raft, so that we can go back and forth to the houseboat without getting wet every time we go aboard."

Miss Jones, Lillian and Eleanor managed to haul another log of nearly equal size. On the sh.o.r.e the girls lashed the two logs together with short ends of their precious clothes line.

Madge took off her shoes and stockings, pinned up her skirts, and, getting down on her knees, with a stick for a paddle, started forth on her raft. She claimed the honor of the first trip, since the idea had first been hers.

The raft reached the "Merry Maid" in safety. She rose to wave her hands in triumph, but she rested too much of her weight at one end of the logs. The raft tipped gently and she plunged head first into the sea.

"Splendid way to keep from getting wet, Madge!" sang out Phil.

However, after a time, the raft did help. There were a hatchet, a hammer and some nails on the houseboat; a few odd lengths of rope and heavy twine, as well as the straps from the trunks. By nightfall the girls had made a raft of some pretensions. It served to bring more of their grocery supplies to the land. By wading on either side of it to keep it from tipping, Madge and Phil managed to steer one of their trunks to the sh.o.r.e.

At Eleanor's suggestion a few extra sheets were carried off the houseboat. Then Miss Jenny Ann and Nellie set themselves seriously to work to make a cable for the "Merry Maid." They divided their sheets into good, broad strips; using six, instead of three strands, they plaited them into a fairly strong rope. They must run no risk of losing the houseboat. It must not be allowed to drift away for the second time.

The girls were tired and hungry at bedtime, though not one whit discouraged. It would take some time to move what they needed from the houseboat to the lodge in the wood. But they were equal to the task, and found it good sport.

Miss Jenny Ann continued to worry over the prospect ahead of them.

Would they be forced to spend the winter on this deserted island? How could they? They would perish from hunger and cold. Would their families give them up for lost? How would Miss Tolliver ever open her school at Harborpoint without her four favorite pupils and one of her teachers?

For a few days these dreadful ideas continued to haunt Miss Jones. The girls may have thought of them, but they did not talk of them. Indeed, they were far too busy. Pioneer life was strenuous. They found little time for fretting.

CHAPTER XIII

LIFE IN THE WOODS

It was wonderful how quickly they adapted themselves to their new mode of life. A few days later Phyllis, with a rifle slung over one shoulder and a dead rabbit over the other, was striding along through a dense thicket of trees. Her face was tanned, her cheeks were crimson. She was whistling cheerily.

"Won't Madge be proud of me?" she murmured half aloud. "Ten days ago I had never fired a gun in my life. Now I have killed this poor little bunny. Beg your pardon, bunny, I never would have shot you, but we really had to have something to eat for dinner to-night. It was your life or ours."

The woods were brown and gold. A heavy frost had fallen early in the autumn. The little spot of earth through which Phyllis Alden wandered was empty of other human beings; it looked as though it might have been created for her alone.

A sudden sound in the underbrush startled Phyllis. She clutched her rifle and brought it to position. There was no further movement.

"I ought not to have come so deep into the woods alone," she thought.

"I believe I am beginning to suppose that we are living in the Garden of Eden, and that there is no one alive in the world except Miss Jenny Ann and we four girls."

Phil moved on. Something stirred again. Phil felt her gaze drawn by a pair of big, soft, brown eyes that surveyed her with a fixed stare of horror. It was a wistful, penetrating gaze. Phil had never seen anything like it before.

"Who's there?" called Phil. There was no answer, and no movement in the underbrush. Phil moved cautiously toward the pair of eyes, that never ceased to stare at her. Still the figure back of them made no movement.

The underbrush was so thick that Phyllis could not possibly see what she was approaching. When she was within a short distance of it the little creature collapsed and dropped with a soft flop on the ground at her feet. It was a tiny baby fawn.