Books: Keineth

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"I like her guns best--" cried Billy. "She's got all kinds of guns and
things they used way back in the Revolution!"

"And she has a roomful of books and letters from great people that her
ancestors collected. Why, Father says that she would be very rich if
she'd sell the papers she has, but she will not part with a thing!
Mother says she just lives in the past and she'd rather starve than to
take money for one of her relics!"

"I'd rather have the money, you bet," muttered Billy.

"I wouldn't--I think it must be wonderful to have a letter that was
really written and signed by President Lincoln himself," Barbara
declared.

"I'm awfully glad we're going there," said Keineth eagerly.

"Let's ask her to tell us about how her brother dug his way out of
Andersonville Prison! She'll show us the broken knife, Ken!"

"Why, Billy, she's told us that story dozens of times--let's ask for a
new one!" To Keineth: "After she gives us gingerbread and milk and
little tarts she tells us a story while we all sit under the apple
tree!"

"And say, she can make the best tarts!" interrupted Billy. "Oh, I wish
the Fourth would hurry and come!" echoed Keineth. It did come--a
glorious sunny morning! Billy's bugle wakened them at a very early
hour. Before breakfast the children, with Mr. and Mrs. Lee, circled
about the flag pole on the lawn, and, while Billy slowly pulled the
Stars and Stripes to the top, in chorus they repeated the oath of
allegiance to their flag. Keineth--her eyes turned upward, suddenly
felt a rush of loneliness for her father. A little prayer formed on her
lips to the flag she was honoring. "Please take care of him wherever he
is!"

At noon, in Genevieve, they started merrily off for Grandma Sparks! In
her mind Keineth had drawn a picture of a stately Colonial house, with
great pillars, such as she had sometimes seen while driving with Aunt
Josephine. Great was her surprise when Billy turned into a grass-grown
driveway which led past a broken-down gate and stopped at the door of
a weather-gray house; its walls almost concealed by the vines growing
from ground to gable and even rambling over the patched roof. At the
door of the house stood a noble apple tree, spreading its branches in
loving protection over the old stone steps which led to the threshold.

Through the small-paned window Grandma Sparks had been watching for
them. She came out quickly; a tiny figure in a dress as gray and
weather-beaten as the house itself, a cap covering her white head. Her
hands were stretched out in eager welcome and her smile seemed to
embrace them all at once.

"Well--well--well," was all she could say.

Keineth felt suddenly as though this quaint little lady had indeed
stepped out of one of her own dusty old books--she could not be a part,
possibly, of their busy world! And while the others talked she
examined, with unconcealed interest, the queer heavy furniture, the
colored prints on the walls and the old spinnet in the corner. Billy
was already taking down the guns and Alice sat rocking the doll.

Keineth was shown the picture of the great-great-grandmother who had
held the arch and was told the story; she saw the plates and the cup
and the broken knife. They unfolded the flags that had been in the
family for generations and reread the letters that Mrs. Sparks kept in
a heavy mahogany box. One of them--most treasured of all--had been
written to her mother in praise of her brother's bravery on the
battlefield under action, and was signed "A. Lincoln."

"My greatest grief in life," the little old lady said, holding the
letter close to her heart, "is that I have no son who may for his
generation serve his country, if they need him!"

Afterwards Barbara told Keineth that Mrs. Sparks had once had a little
boy who had been born a cripple and died when he was twelve years old.

While Barbara and Peggy were busy spreading a picnic--table under the
apple tree, Keineth told Grandma Sparks of her own father and how he
had gone away to serve his country, too; but that it was a secret and
no one knew he was a soldier because he wore no uniform.

"The truest hearts aren't always under a uniform, my dear," and the old
lady patted Keineth's hand. "The service that is done quietly and with
no beating of drums is the hardest service to do!" After the
picnic--and the picnic _had_ included the gingerbread and tarts and
patties that Barbara had described and which the dear old lady had
spent hours in preparing--they grouped themselves under the apple tree;
Grandma in the old rocker Billy had brought from the house.

"Not about Andersonville, please," begged Peggy. "Why, I know that by
heart! A new one!"

"Something about the war," Billy urged.

Barbara interrupted, shuddering. "No--no! I can't bear to think there
is a war right now--"

"Child--I had thought that never again in my lifetime would this world
know a war! We have much to learn, yet--we are not ready for a lasting
peace. But it will come!"

"That's what my father says--we must all learn to live like families in
a nice street," added Keineth gravely.

"Oh, well--if the girls can't stand a story about the war, tell us
something about the early settlers! I like adventure--if I'd lived in
those days you bet I'd have discovered something!" "I remember," mused
the old lady, "a story my father used to tell! We have the papers about
it somewhere. Let me think--it was about a trading post on the Ohio and
a captive maiden brought there by the Indians!"

Billy threw his cap in the air.

"Indians! Hooray!"

CHAPTER IX

THE CAPTIVE MAIDEN

Grandma Sparks folded her hands contentedly in her lap and fastened her
eyes upon the distant tree-tops.

"Years and years ago, when this land was a vast forest, a band of
Canadian and French soldiers and traders made their way through the
wilderness to the banks of the Ohio where they built a small fort and
started a trading post. The land was rich about them and they were soon
carrying on a prosperous trade with the Indians who came to the fort.
Though these Indians were friendly the soldiers had made the fort as
strong as possible, for they knew that no one could tell at what moment
they might be attacked! Sometimes weeks and months would pass when no
Indian would come their way; then some of the traders would journey
back along the trail with their wealth, leaving the others at the fort
to guard it.

"In their number was a soldier who had once escaped from England; had
gone into France and from there to Canada, all because he had made the
King angry! Everyone in England thought he was dead. After years of
lonely wandering he had joined the little band of adventurers when they
started for the West--as they called it in those days! He was a queer
man, for he seldom talked to his fellows, but they knew he was brave
and would give up his life for any one of them! They called him
Robert--no one knew his other name, nor ever asked.

"It was the custom at the trading post to treat the Indians with great
politeness. Sometimes great chiefs came to the fort and then the
soldiers and traders acted as though they were entertaining the King of
England.

"One early morning a sentry called out to his fellows that Indians were
approaching. The soldiers quickly made all preparations for their
reception. The commanding officer went forward with some of his men to
meet them. The Indian band was led by a chief--a, great, tall fellow
with a kingly bearing, and behind him another Indian carried in his
arms the limp form of a white girl.

"Briefly the chief explained that the girl was hurt; that they, the
white men, must care for her! Where they had found her--what horrible
things might have happened before they made her captive no one could
know, for an Indian never tells and the white men knew better than to
ask! The girl was carried into shelter and laid upon a rough wooden
bed. It was Robert, the outlaw, who helped unwind the covers that bound
her.

"In astonishment the soldiers beheld the face of a beautiful
girl--waxen white in her unconsciousness. Silently the Indians let the
white medicine-man care for their captive. She had been so terribly
hurt that for days she lay as though dead! While the soldiers
entertained the Indians, the medicine-man and Robert worked night and
day to save the young life.

"Having finished trading with the white men the Indians prepared to
return to their village, which, they told the white men, was far away
toward the setting sun. The girl was too ill to be moved; so, with a
few words, the Indian Chief told the officer of the fort that soon they
would return for the girl--whom he claimed as his squaw--and that if
ill befell her, or, on their return, she was gone--a dozen scalps he
would take in turn! The officer could do no more than promise that the
Indian's captive would be well guarded.

"And every white man of them knew that as surely as the sun sets the
Indian would return for the girl whom he claimed as his squaw, and that
if she was not there for him to take, twelve of them would pay with
their lives!

"The weeks went on and the girl grew well and strong, but, because of
her horrible accident, could remember nothing of her past. She was like
an angel to the rough traders and soldiers; going about among them in
the simple robe they had fashioned for her of skins and sacking, with
her fair hair lying over her shoulders and her eyes as blue as the very
sky. And because she could not tell them her name they called her
Angele.

"One day a message was brought to their fort telling of war in the
Colonies--that the English were fighting the French and that all Canada
would be swept with flame and blood! Almost to a man they said they
would go back to fight. One among them did not speak--it was Robert!
Though he had fled from England never to return, he could not lift his
hand against her. And someone must stay with Angele!

"By the camp fire they talked it over. It was decided that four of them
would remain at the fort until the chieftain came to claim his captive.
One of these would be Robert; the other three would be chosen by lot.

"So while the others went home along the trail over which they had
come, the four guarded the little fort for Angele's sake. Three of them
gave little thought to that time when the Indian chief would come for
the girl--to them, it simply meant that their guard would be ended and
that they, too, might return--but Robert went about with a heavy heart,
for, as the days passed, it seemed to him more and more impossible to
give the girl into a life of bondage! Under the stars he vowed that
before he would do that he would run his knife deep into her heart, and
pay with his own life.

"Angele's contentment was terribly shattered one evening when, at
sundown, three Indians came to the fort. At the sight of them she
uttered a terrible scream and fled into hiding. They said they had been
wandering over the country and had come to the fort quite by chance and
only sought a friendly shelter for the night, but the sight of their
brown bodies and dark faces had shocked the girl's mind in such a way
as to bring back the memory of everything that had happened to her and
hers at the hands of these red men. Robert found her crouched in a
corner weeping in terror. To him she told her story; how the little
band of people, once happy families in the land of Acadia, roaming in
search of a home, had been surprised by an attack of Indians; how
before her very eyes every soul of them had been killed and she alone
had been spared because the chief wanted her for his squaw! They had
carried her away with them; for days they had travelled through strange
forests, for hours at a time she was scarcely conscious. Then,
attempting escape, she had received the blow from a tomahawk that had
hurt her so cruelly. It was a terrible story. Robert listened to the
end and then, taking her two hands and holding them close to his heart,
told her solemnly that never would she be given again to the Indians!

"But he did not tell her of his vow, for suddenly he knew that life
would be very, very happy if he could escape from the fort with her and
go back to the Colonies!

"The three Indians, before departing, had told of an entire tribe they
had overtaken only a little way off, decked out as if for a great
ceremony and led by a chieftain! Robert well knew who they were. If
they were to escape it must be before the dawn of another day!

"That night--quietly, that Angele might not be frightened--the men
talked together over the fire. Robert unfolded a plan. The others must
start eastward immediately along the river trail. Then as soon as the
moon had gone down, he and Angele would go in the bark canoe the men
had built--paddle as far eastward as they could, then make for the
shelter of the forests.

"The others were eager to escape--for they knew now that the man Robert
would never give up the girl, and they loved their own scalps! They
hastily gathered together what they wanted to take with them and stole
from the fort. During their idle days they had dug an underground
passage from the fort to the river; through this they escaped quickly
to the trail.

"Robert wakened Angele and told her of his plan. She said not a word,
but by the fire in her eyes Robert knew what escape meant to her. Then,
gently, he asked her if--when they had found safety in the Colonies--
she would go with him to a priest to be married, and for answer she
turned and kissed him upon his hand.

"While Robert loaded the canoe which he found at the river bank near
the opening of the rough tunnel, Angele joyfully made her few
preparations for the long journey.

"Before leaving the fort Robert gave to Angele a small knife, telling
her that if they were captured she must use it quickly to end her own
life! He then carefully barred every possible entrance, knowing that
though the Indians could beat these down or fire the entire place, it
would mean some delay in their pursuit and give them a little start
toward safety.

"Just as the moon disappeared and a heavy darkness enveloped them they
pushed away from shore. But as they started down the river a horrible
whoop split the air! Angele pressed her hands tight to her mouth to
still her scream of terror. With a mighty stroke Robert paddled for
midstream. But just as he did so an arrow shot past Angele and buried
itself in the soft part of his leg!

"The three Indians who had come and gone in such friendly fashion were
not of the far-off tribe they claimed to be, but had been sent on ahead
by the chieftain to see how things were at the fort. They had gone back
and told their story and the chieftain, expecting that some escape
might be attempted, had planned to surprise the fort in the night.

"His flesh stinging with the wound of the arrow, Robert lifted his
musket and fired quickly. Years before, in his own country, he had been
honored by his King for his good marksmanship, but it was God who
guided that aim through the darkness, for it shot straight into the
very heart of the chieftain! While, in confusion, the Indians gathered
about their fallen chief, Robert, with Angele fainting at his feet, was
soon lost in the kindly darkness of the river--paddling eastward!"

"Oh, were they saved?" cried Peggy, drawing a long breath.

"Yes. Days afterward they reached a fort where they found a priest who
married them. And they lived happy, useful lives in a settlement in
Pennsylvania. Some records of the fort where the priest married them
tell the whole story--they're right in the house," and Grandma nodded
her head proudly toward the open door.

"Didn't I tell you she was like a page out of history?" Barbara asked
Keineth as they drove homeward.

"You just feel as if you were an American History book, beginning with
the discovery of America," laughed Peggy.

"If I was a history book I'd leave out dates and the Cabots--I never
can get 'em straight," Billy chimed.

"There must be lots and lots of stories about brave men that were never
put in books," Keineth added thoughtfully.

Peggy yawned widely. "Well, I'm glad I'm not that poor captive maiden
and just plain Peggy Lee of Overlook!"

"And I'm gladder still that mother is sure to have ice cream for
dinner!"

This, of course, from Billy.

CHAPTER X

PILOT IN DISGRACE

"Anyone might think that this was Friday the thirteenth," growled
Billy. "I broke my fishing rod and I've lost my knife and Jim Archer
stepped on a nail and can't go on a hike this afternoon--"

Billy's curious talk never failed to interest Keineth. She knew that it
was not Friday and it was not the thirteenth and wondered what Billy
ever meant! But she never asked him; something in the scornful
superiority with which Billy treated all girls made Keineth very shy
with him. She wished they might be better friends, for she felt very
sure that it would be great fun to share with him the exciting
adventures Billy seemed always to find! Vaguely she wondered what she
could do that might put her on an equal footing with this
freckled-faced lad who was, after all, only two years older than she
was!

"Jim stepped on the nail yesterday--what's that got to do with to-day!"
Peggy answered teasingly, "Well, we were going to hike to-day," Billy
explained, too doleful to indulge in retort. "And all the other fellows
are doing something else."

"Billy--Billy," called Alice from around the corner. "Just see what I
found!" She ran toward them, holding in her hand a dirty, ragged piece
of leather.

"Where'd you find that?" demanded Billy, taking it from her.
"It's--why, jiminy crickets--it's one of my best shoes!"

Billy meant that it had been!

"Pilot!" the children cried, looking at one another.

"That's what mother used to scold about Rex doing," Peggy recalled.

"Why couldn't he eat my old ones!" groaned Billy, throwing the leather
off into some bushes. He felt troubled--he remembered that he had left
the shoes out on the floor of his dressing room. It was all his fault,
but Pilot would be blamed!

"What can we do?" asked Keineth, sensing a tragedy.

"I don't care anything about the shoes," answered Billy, "'cause I'd
just as soon wear these old ones as not--what d' I care about shoes?
But mother'll say that we can't keep the dog!"

"He's only on trial--" Peggy broke in sadly.

"If you girls could keep it a secret we'd give Pilot another chance--"

"Alice is sure to tell! She can't keep anything!"

"I can keep a secret! You just try me!"

"Well, then," Billy lowered his voice mysteriously, "not a word! You
just cross your hearts that you won't tell a word! We'll give Pilot
another chance!"

Solemnly the three girls crossed their hearts. Billy went off then in
search of some amusement of his liking, leaving them with the burden of
the secret.

It weighed upon them through the day. And the more heavily when at noon
time the cook from Clark's tapped upon the kitchen door and reported
with great indignation that "jes' while her back was turned a minute
that there dog had stolen her leg she was about to be carvin' and had
gone off with it like he was possessed."

"Your leg--well, now!" cried Nora, all sympathy. "Faith--not my _own_
leg, but a leg of lamb!" wept the other, "and what the mistress will be
a sayin' I don't know!"

"Where is that dog?" Mrs. Lee had sternly asked of the children. No one
knew. Keineth and Peggy exchanged troubled glances and then fixed
frowning eyes upon Alice.

"It really is very foolish in us to keep him," Mrs. Lee went on.
"Probably this is just the beginning of the annoyances he will cause!"

"He tramples down the flowers terribly," Barbara complained.

Mr. Lee caught the anxious look in Billy's eyes.

"Well, well, Mother, perhaps Billy will keep a closer watch on his dog
after this!"

Billy promised with suspicious readiness. "Mr. Sawyer says Pilot's a
valuable dog," he told them. "And we ought not to give a valuable dog
away, anyway!"

"We'll see," Mrs. Lee concluded.

But that evening Pilot sealed his own doom!

For, as the children were playing croquet near the veranda, he came
running across the lawn and triumphantly dropped at Billy's feet a
beautiful gold fish, quite dead!

"Oh--oh--oh!" screamed Alice.

"It's from Sawyer's pond!" cried Peggy on her knees.

"The poor little thing." Keineth lifted it. "It's dead!"

"It's their new Japanese gold fish," added Barbara, who, with Mrs. Lee,
had come down the steps from the veranda. "You'll have to pay for this,
Billy!"

"I think this is the last straw," said Mrs. Lee sternly, turning to her
husband.

"Oh, Mammy, he couldn't help it--they swim round and he thinks they are
playing!" Peggy implored.

Pilot, standing back, his tail wagging slowly, regarded them with
wondering, disappointed eyes. He had felt so very proud of his fish and
now his family seemed to look upon him with displeasure.

"And I can tell the secret now," cried Alice, "we weren't going to
tell--he ate one of Billy's _best_ shoes!"

"You just wait!" cried Billy. Peggy turned a terrible face upon Alice.
"We'll never, never, never tell anything to the tell-baby again!" she
hissed. "Will we, Ken?"

"I guess I knew it first," Alice whimpered.

"It was my fault--I left them out, Mother! And I'd just as soon wear my
old shoes!" Billy turned pleadingly to his mother.

"I am sure you would," she smiled, "but nevertheless I must be firm
about this dog. He is a nuisance and will be an expense. By the time we
have paid the Clarks for their lamb and the Sawyers for their goldfish
and bought you a pair of shoes the damages against Pilot will have run
up to a nice little sum!"

"But, Mother, you can take it out of my allowance!"

"That will not guard against other things of this same sort happening.
No, my son, I do not like to make you unhappy, but we must get rid of
the dog. Please say no more about it. Day after to-morrow we'll send
him into the city with the vegetable man."

Mrs. Lee turned back to the veranda. When she spoke with that tone in
her voice the children never answered. Peggy, linking her arm in
Keineth's, turned an angry shoulder upon Alice. Billy blinked his eyes
very fast to clear them of the tears that had gathered in spite of
himself, threw his arm about the dog's neck and led him away to some
hiding place where, secure from intrusion, he could pour out his
rebellious heart to his pet.

"There's no use staying angry at Alice!" Keineth protested in a low
tone to Peggy as they walked away. She felt sorry for the little girl
standing at a little distance irresolutely swinging a croquet mallet.
"It was her secret, anyway and Aunt Nellie would have found out about
the shoe some time. Perhaps we were wrong not to tell her at first."

"You always stand up for everybody," Peggy complained, dropping
Keineth's arm in vexation. But Peggy's sunny nature could not long
carry a grudge of any kind. She had made a solemn vow, too, that she
would never be unkind to Alice again! And there _would_ be just time
before dark to play one more game of croquet!

"Will you play, Allie? You can have red and play last," she cried.
"Come on, Ken!"

CHAPTER XI

PILOT WINS A HOME

"What a horrid day!" with a wide yawn Peggy threw the stocking she was
darning into the basket. "I wish mother wouldn't make me wear
stockings--then I wouldn't have any holes!"

"I wish the sun would shine," Alice chimed, disconsolately.

"If mother were here, she would say that we must make our own
sunshine," Barbara laughed. She was folding carefully the white
undergarment she had finished making for her college "trousseau"--as
her father called it.

"Well, it seems as if everything goes wrong all at once," Peggy refused
to be cheered. The children knew she was thinking of Pilot. Pilot's
disgrace and sentence hung like a gloomy cloud over their hearts.

"Who'd believe you could think so much of a dog?" Keineth frowned as
she pondered the thought. "I used to think Aunt Josephine was so silly
over Fido. I am sure Fido was never as nice as our Pilot, but I suppose
Aunt Josephine thinks he's much nicer. Once he swallowed a paper of
needles from Aunt Josephine's work basket and she almost fainted, and
Celeste had to call a doctor for her and another for the dog and they
sent the dog to a hospital. Then Aunt Josephine blamed Celeste and told
her she must leave at once and Celeste had hysterics, for you see she'd
been with my aunt since she was very young and they had to send for the
doctor again for Celeste."

"Oh, how funny!" laughed Peggy, though Keineth's face was very serious.

"Then Aunt Josephine felt sorry and forgave Celeste and they called up
the next day from the hospital to say that Fido was very well and that
needles seemed to agree with him. But Aunt Josephine worried for weeks
and weeks over him."

"Pilot would know better than to eat needles," Alice broke in
scornfully.

"Yes--he likes shoes and goldfish," Barbara finished. "Where's Billy?"

From the mother to the smallest of them they felt sorry for Billy. For,
though Billy had said not a word concerning the fate of his pet, the
hurt look in his eyes betrayed the sorrow he felt. No one knew where he
was--he had disappeared quietly after breakfast. And Pilot was with
him.

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