Three Little Women's Success Part 12

"Please, come quick, Miss Jinny! I'se powerful trebbled. Charles he sought o' wanderin' in his min' and talkin' a heap o' foolishness."

Without a word Mrs. Carruth hurried from the Bee-hive in Mammy's wake, Jean, unnoticed, close behind her. As she entered the room Charles was sitting upright, talking wildly and gesticulating to some imaginary person at the foot of his bed. Mammy, true to her instincts, flung her ap.r.o.n over her head, and, dropping upon her knees in the middle of the floor, cried:

"He sees de hants! He sees de hants! His hours done numbered!" and followed it up with earnest pet.i.tions for Charles' life. Mrs. Carruth knew colored people too well to waste time in expostulations. She knew that the only way to bring Mammy back to her senses was to set about doing for Charles the things which Mammy, in a more rational frame of mind, would have done herself. Hurrying to his bedside, she said to the semi-delirious old man:

"Why, Charles, did you miss me when I went to speak to Miss Jean? It is Jean you wish to see, isn't it? Well, here she is right at the foot of the bed, but you can talk to her quite as well when you are lying down.

There, that is better," as Charles, in obedience to her gentle easing down, let her lay him back among his pillows. Mammy caught sight of the act, and it recalled her to her senses quicker than a whip lash could have done. Springing to her feet, she hurried to the bedside, and taking her mistress by both hands forced her into the chair near at hand, exclaiming under her breath:

"Bress Gawd, baby! wha', wha' yo' mean by liftin' dat heavy man?"

Mrs. Carruth had not misjudged, but she was none the less concerned for Charles who continued to ramble on to Jean, who stood at the foot of the bed. A distant clock struck one-thirty. Mammy was doing all she could to quiet Charles, while Mrs. Carruth slipped into the adjoining room to prepare some medicine for him. Jean chose that moment to hurry back to the Bee-hive. A moment later the electric drop light was flashing its message across the snow-bound garden to the darkened house beyond. There was no response. Again and again Jean turned the switch, flashing out across the snow the bright light from the Tungsten bulb, and watching eagerly for some response, but the house remained perfectly dark; and at length, in despair, she gave up signalling and went swiftly back to Mammy's side of the cottage. Creeping softly up to the bedroom she looked in. Her mother was too much occupied with Charles to notice her return, and Mammy was placing hot water bags at the old man's feet. From the anxious look upon her mother's face, Jean knew that she was seriously alarmed for Charles, who was trembling and quivering with a sudden chill. Without a word she turned and sped back to the Bee-hive.

Five minutes later she opened the door and slipped out into the night.

The storm had nearly ceased, but the clouds, driven by a wild, bleak wind, were still scudding across the sky. There was no moon, and it would have been a brave star which dared send its cheerful gleam through that cloud rack. Upon the ground the snow lay in deep wind-driven banks, in some places higher than Jean's head. All the world was dark, silent, awesome. Jean never paused. She had formed her plans upon the instant, and was acting upon them as promptly. A hundred feet from the cottage old Baltie's stable loomed in the darkness, the snow upon the eastern side of it banked high as the little window over his stall. Luckily the doors were upon the southern, more protected side of the building; and after struggling and wallowing through the snow until she was nearly breathless, Jean reached them. Pausing a moment to recover her breath, she inserted the key in the lock and opened the smaller door. She was instantly greeted by a soft nicker. Baltie never slept when the footfalls, however light, of those he loved drew near.

"Baltie, Baltie, dear," cried Jean, softly, running to the box and opening the door, switching on the light as she ran. But neither light nor darkness meant anything to Baltie. His sensitive ears bounded his world of darkness, and love did the rest. His head was in Jean's arms in a moment.

"Can you do it, dear? Can you do it for Charles and Mammy? I wouldn't ask you to if I could go alone, but you are bigger and stronger than I am, Baltie, even if you are so old. Can you take me to Dr. Black's through this deep snow? It isn't so very far, Baltie, and we'll be careful. Can you, Baltie? We must have him, for Charles is so sick."

For answer the horse nestled closer to the girl, and nickered repeatedly.

"I know you mean 'yes,' dear. I know you do. I'll be careful, Baltie.

I'll cover you up all warm and snug."

As she talked, Jean threw over Baltie's head the head and neck blanket, which Charles had insisted must be part of the old horse's impedimenta during the severe winter months. Deftly pushing his ears into the ear coverings, she drew the hood over his head, his soft eyes shining upon her like two moons from the circular openings, and b.u.t.toned it around his throat. An extra blanket was quickly added, and then the old saddle was strapped on. Leading Baltie to the door, Jean switched off the electric light, gave one lithe little spring and landed across the saddle. It had not taken her long to shift from her ordinary clothing into Constance's divided riding skirt up there in the Bee-hive, or to add the heavy outer garments the inclement weather made necessary.

"Now, Baltie, we must go, we must, dear. Please, please do your best for Charles and Mammy, they have been so good to you."

As though he understood every word spoken to him, the horse bent to the driving wind and plunged into the unbroken road. Dr. Black's home was less than a mile from Mrs. Carruth's, and ordinarily Jean could have walked it in less than fifteen minutes, or run it in ten, and had often done so; but all walks and roadways were now completely obliterated. She must trust to her sense of direction and to Baltie's wonderful instinct.

On plodded the good old creature, breaking into a light lope where the wind had swept the street comparatively free of snow, wallowing, pounding, pawing into the drifts where they barred his progress, snorting his protest, not at Jean, but at the elements, though never pausing in his efforts, which made him breathe hard, and more than once slow up for his second wind.

Jean had ridden from her earliest childhood, and had a man's seat in the saddle. Now she leaned forward, her arms clasped about the great, heaving neck, the while speaking encouraging words into the ears laid back to catch her voice. As they drew near the more thickly settled portion of Riveredge, the blank, dense silence in which it lay impressed her strongly. During the first half mile the electric lights at measured intervals cast their fantastic gleam and shadows upon the snow. In this section they were numerous and brought into stronger relief the ghostly houses. Far off some shivering dog howled dismally, and instantly Jean thought of old Mammy's superst.i.tions, and her convictions "dat ef he howl _two_ times an' stop, it sure is fer a man ter die." This dog had howled "two times." Jean was not superst.i.tious, but she was the child of southern-born parents, and had been "raised" by a very typical southern "Mammy." Tradition is very hard to overcome. She shivered, but not from the biting cold, though her feet were numb from it.

Not a human being was in sight as she turned into the street upon which Dr. Black's house stood five blocks further down. They might almost as well have been fifty, for the street was narrower than most of the others, and running north and south had caught the full brunt of the northeaster. More than one piazza and front door was banked nearly to the piazza roof, and the street itself practically impa.s.sable.

Baltie had come bravely thus far, but such a white mountain as now lay before him was enough to daunt a young horse, much less an old blind one. He stopped, his flanks heaving, his head drooping. Jean was almost ready to give up in despair, for the cold had chilled her to the bone, and feet and hands were almost without sensation.

"Oh, Baltie, Baltie, my dear old horse, can't you go a little further?

Can't you, dear? Please, please try just once more. It's only a very little way now; only such a little way! I can see the light in front of Dr. Black's door. I'd get off your back and walk, or try to, if I didn't know that I couldn't go five steps. Come, Baltie, please try just once more."

Perhaps it was Jean's pleading, perhaps Baltie's wind had returned; at all events, he raised his head, gave a wild snort, a mad plunge, and, after a desperate struggle, floundered up to Dr. Black's gate. The house was barely twenty feet from it, but the snow was up to Jean's waist.

She never knew how she forced her way through it, or reached the electric b.u.t.ton. She only knew she must do it somehow. When, in response to its prolonged jingling by his bedside, Dr. Black came back to this world of real things from the world of dreams, into which a long, hard day of work and exposure had carried him, and making a hurried toilet hastened down to the door, he found a huddled heap upon the doormat, and saw in the drifts beyond a quivering, panting horse.

In two minutes the whole household was astir, kind Mrs. Black had Jean up in her bedroom, the doctor administering restoratives, the doctor's man had led Baltie around to the stable and was caring for him with all possible despatch.

"Look after her, Polly, and don't let her leave that bed until I say she may. I must be off to Mrs. Carruth's. I don't believe she even knows this child is here. It's all the result of this confounded storm and the wires being down. Such a blizzard as this hasn't struck Riveredge in thirty years."

It did not take Dr. Black as long to reach Mrs. Carruth's home as it had taken Jean to reach his, and when he arrived he found a distracted household. Hadyn had rushed over to the Bee-hive to find Jean vanished, Mrs. Carruth entirely absorbed with Charles, who was in a very critical condition, and Mammy nearly beside herself. As Hadyn, in spite of Mrs.

Carruth's protests, insisted upon going after Dr. Black, he was confronted by that gentleman at the very door.

CHAPTER XIII

AFTERMATH.

That storm of March, 19-, claimed many a victim. More than one was frozen to death, many died from the exposure, and many more were invalids for months as the result of it. All that terrible night Dr.

Black worked over old Charles, with Mammy and Hadyn to aid him, and Constance to vibrate between the house and the cottage, for with the first peep of dawn Mr. Henry's man came over to dig out the snow-bound family and make a path from house to cottage. Mrs. Carruth, upon learning of Jean's desperate rush for Dr. Black and her collapse at his doorstep, started instantly for his home. Charles could claim a great deal from her, but the claim of her own was far greater, and Dr. Black's sleigh and powerful horse carried her to Jean as quickly as the great snowdrifts permitted.

But Jean was really none the worse for her mad ride once she was warmed and had partaken of Mrs. Black's cup of steaming hot chocolate. She was as strong and pliable as a hickory sapling, which, the storm having pa.s.sed over it, springs erect and is as vigorous as ever. Mrs. Black soon rea.s.sured Mrs. Carruth, and at length had the satisfaction of seeing them both fast asleep in her guest room, Mrs. Carruth's arm, even in her sleep, laid caressingly and protectingly across Jean's shoulder.

Both were worn out, and noon had struck before they wakened to reproach themselves for their long rest and to make inquiry for Charles. Dr.

Black had just returned, and reported a decided improvement in the old man.

"And Baltie-dear old Baltie?" demanded Jean.

"Baltie is sure enough in clover, little girl," answered the good doctor. "Dried clover, and last summer's clover, to be sure, but none the less clover, for d.i.c.k has nearly buried him in it, and the old fellow seems none the worse for his struggle through snowdrifts. But you are both trumps-the queen of hearts and the king, by George! I don't know how you did it!"

"We _had_ to do it. There wasn't anyone else to."

Dr. Black took the earnest face in both his hands, and, looking into the hazel eyes, said:

"It is a pity a few more are not convinced of that 'we had to.'"

Then he drove his guests back to their home. It was agreed that Baltie should not be taken out of Dr. Black's stable until the weather moderated.

A week pa.s.sed. Charles was out of danger, but still required the closest attention, and Constance insisted upon a nurse from Memorial Hospital.

Mammy protested, but her protests were of no avail. Constance saw very quickly that weeks of careful nursing lay ahead, and she would not permit her mother to overtax her strength. Mammy must attend to her cooking and the luncheon counter, now that Charles could not. Constance had her own hands full with her candy kitchen, for, even with Mary and f.a.n.n.y Willing to a.s.sist her, she had all she could do to keep abreast of her orders. So the nurse took command in Mammy's bedroom, and Mammy had to yield.

Perhaps no one felt the situation half as keenly as Hadyn did. That he had dozed off in that hour and a half in which so much occurred filled him with a remorse he could not overcome. He had been left at a post of duty at a critical hour, and he had failed ignominiously. He would not admit any extenuating circ.u.mstances, for he sincerely felt that there were none. If others had kept awake when it was imperative to keep awake, why had he not done so? If little Jean had been able to do so, and when he had failed her had undertaken such a ride, undaunted by the hour, the darkness, the loneliness and the terrific storm, while he dozed snugly before the open fire-oh, it was intolerable, disgraceful!

And these friends had done so much for him! True, no harm had come to Jean or to the others, but Hadyn shuddered when he pictured what might have happened in those ninety minutes. Coax and urge as he would he could not induce Jean to admit that she had signalled to the house for aid, albeit he felt as certain that she had done so as if he had seen the electric light flashed. When he urged she simply closed her lips and shook her head, and as no one else, not even Constance, could enlighten him, he had to let the matter drop.

In the course of the next week Baltie came hobbling back to his home. In spite of all the care given him at Dr. Black's, the old horse showed the effects of his exposure and the terrible tax upon his strength that wild night; yet none who loved him so well dreamed that the great summons had really come to the animal which had given more than thirty years of faithful service to his friends. From little colthood he had been Grandfather Raulsbury's pet until the old man's death. Then had come the dreadful interval of evil days when Jabe Raulsbury had so misused him, to be followed by the happier ones with the Carruths-days of unremitting care, affection and happiness for Baltie and those who loved him, and especially to Jean and Mammy. And how generously he had requited their devotion to him! Indeed, the last act of his life was to be recorded as one of service to those he loved-a service which had undoubtedly saved the life of one who had tenderly ministered to his comfort. But for Baltie's devotion Charles' life could not have been saved, all agreed, and the one who loved the blind horse more than any other excepting Jean would have mourned her old husband. Mammy's heart was large enough to take in all the world if they needed her love and care, though she often hid that fact beneath an a.s.sumed aggressiveness. That was Mammy's way.

From the hour that Baltie had become the joint property of Jean and Mammy, and later the ownership had embraced Charles, they had not missed visiting his stable the first thing in the morning. For a long time Mammy's was the first voice the blind old horse heard when he greeted the morning sunlight which streamed into his big box stall; Mammy's the first hand to minister to his comfort and caress him. Then, as soon as she was dressed, Jean flew to the stable, and a pretty scene always followed. When Charles came into the family he was the one to go first to the stable; but neither Jean nor Mammy ever failed to visit Baltie a little later, and during those years he had become almost human. Only human speech seemed denied him, but this lack he supplied by his own Houyhnhum language, and the silent but most eloquent language of the eyes and ears which G.o.d has given mute creatures-each so very wonderful if dull humans will only try to learn them. In the audible one are almost as many inflections as in the broader range of the human voice, and it is a dull intellect indeed which cannot interpret:

"I love you. I am cold. I am hungry. I am parched with thirst," and a hundred other sentences, or read the language of the eyes and ears.

And Baltie's vocabulary was a liberal one; his conversational powers, exceptional; his friends understanding the keenest.

As often occurs, that blizzard, which is now history, was followed by weather as soft and balmy as mid-April rather than late March. As if by magic the snow disappeared, running away in rivers of water and leaving the turf beneath showing promising bits of green, which made one feel little tingles of joy at the hint of springtime. Only in sunless spots did banks of snow linger surlily and soiled, like some malign creature beaten, but yet too vindictive to withdraw. The stable fronted south, and all the graciousness of that early spring sunshine fell upon it and entered its doors the minute they were opened. In spite of her anxiety for Charles, and her increased labors as the result of his illness and convalescence, Mammy had somehow found time to visit Baltie each day, though she was not often able to do so early in the morning. It was Jean who ran out to him long before anyone else was astir, and more than once had Constance been obliged to go out after her, lest she forget breakfast, school, and everything else.

Baltie had been back in his own stable about a week when he began to show signs that the wonderful machinery which had endured for so many years was wearing out. Had Charles or Mammy been looking after him then, they would have recognized the signs; but Mr. Henry's man, though he did everything for Baltie's comfort, saw in him nothing but a worn-out old horse, which must very soon go the way of all old worn-out horses, and Jean lacked experience to understand. So the climax came when no one dreamed it was pending.

It was a wonderful morning in mid-April. Out in the garden some pioneer robins had ventured into the northern world, and were calling madly to one another of the grave responsibilities of selecting building sites, and constructing homes against the arrival of their wives, who had, like themselves, been wintering in the South. On the southern terrace a few venturesome crocuses popped their heads up through the moist earth to smile a "howdy, friend," at a pa.s.serby. Off in the distance the river lay like a mirror, with vast ice floes dropping down stream with the tide, crystal barges for Elaine, and moving as silently, each duplicated in the water mirror that floated them, as were also the opposite sh.o.r.e and mountains. A wonderful picture, mirage-like in its outline and exquisite coloring. Those who knew that river best read the signs unerringly. The farmers living in the environs of Riveredge called this peculiar atmospheric condition a "weather breeder."