"See you later!" he shouted back, and Mary Bell went back to the kitchen with a lightened heart. Aunt Mat wouldn"t--COULDN"T--fail her!
She carried a carefully prepared tray in to her mother at five o"clock, and sat beside her while the invalid slowly finished her milk-toast and tea, and the cookies and jelly Mary Bell was famous for. The girl chatted cheerfully.
"You don"t feel very badly about the dance, do you, deary?" said Mrs.
Barber, as the gentle young hands settled her comfortably for the night.
"Not a speck!" answered Mary Bell, bravely, as she kissed her.
"Bernie and Johnnie going--married women!" said the old lady, sleepily.
"I never heard such nonsense! Don"t you go out of call, will you, dear?"
Mary Bell was eating her own supper, ten minutes later, when the train whistled, and she ran, breathless, to the road, to meet Lew Dinwoodie.
"What did Aunt Matty say, Lew?" called Mary Bell, peering behind him into the closed surrey, for a glimpse of the old lady.
The man stared at her with a falling jaw.
"Well, I guess I owe you one for this, Mary Bell!" he stammered. "I"ll eat my shirt if I thought of your note again!"
It was too much. Mary Bell began to dislodge little particles of dried mud carefully from the wheel, her eyes swimming, her breast rising.
"Right in her part of town, too!" pursued the contrite messenger; "but, as I say--"
Mary Bell did not hear him. After a while he was gone, and she was sitting on the steps, hopeless, dispirited, tired. She sombrely watched the departing surreys and phaetons. "I could have gone with them--or with them!" she would think, when there was an empty seat.
The Parmalees went by; two carriage loads. Jim Carr was in the phaeton with Carrie at his side. All the others were in the surrey.
"I"m keeping "em where I can have an eye on "em!" Mrs. Parmalee called out, pointing to the phaeton.
Everybody waved, and Mary Bell waved back. But when they were gone, she dropped her head on her arms.
Dusk came; the village was very still. A train thundered by, and Potter"s windmill creaked and splashed,--creaked and splashed. A cow-bell clanked in the lane, and Mary Bell looked up to see the d.i.c.keys" cow dawdle by, her nose sniffing idly at the clover, her downy great bag leaving a trail of foam on the fresh gra.s.s. From up the road came the faint approaching rattle of wheels.
Wheels?
The girl looked toward the sound curiously. Who drove so recklessly?
She noticed a bank of low clouds in the east, and felt a puff of cool air on her cheek.
"It feels like rain!" she said, watching the wagon as it came near.
"That"s Henderson"s mare, and that"s their wooden-legged hired man!
Why, what is it?"
The last words were cried aloud, for the galloping old horse and driver were at the gate now, and eyes less sharp than Mary Bell"s would have detected something wrong.
"What IS it?" she cried again, at the gate. The man pulled up sharply.
"Say, ain"t there a man here, nowhere?" he demanded abruptly. "I"ve been banging at every house along the way; ain"t there a soul in the place?"
"Dance!" explained Mary Bell. "The Ladies" Improvement Society in Pitcher"s new barn. Why! what is it? Mrs. Henderson sick?"
"No, ma"am!" said the old fellow, "but things is pretty serious down there!" He jerked his hand over his shoulder. "There"s some little fellers,--four or five of "em!--seems they took a boat to-day, to go ducking, and they"re lost in the tide-marsh! My G.o.d--an" I never thought of the dance!" He gave a despairing glance at the quiet street.
"I come here to get twenty men--or thirty--for the search!" he said heavily. "I don"t know what to do, now!"
Mary Bell had turned very white.
"There isn"t a soul here, Stumpy!" she said, terrified eyes on his face. "There isn"t a man in town! What CAN we do!--Say!" she cried suddenly, springing to the seat, "drive me over to Mrs. Rowe"s; she"s married to Chess Bates, you know, at the store. Go on, Stumpy! What boys are they?"
"I know the Turner boys and the d.i.c.key boy is three of "em," said the old man, "and Henderson"s own boy, Davy--poor leetle feller!--and Buddy Hopper, and the Adams boy. They had a couple of guns, and they was all in this boat of Hopper"s, poking round the marsh, and it began to look like rain, and got dark. Well, she was shipping a little water, and Hopper and Adams wanted to tie her to the edge and walk up over the marsh, but the other fellers wanted to go on round the point. So Adams and Hopper left "em, and come over the marsh, and walked to the point, but she wasn"t there. Well, they waited and hallooed, but bimeby they got scared, and come flying up to Henderson"s, and Henderson and me--there ain"t another man there to-night!--we run down to the marsh, and yelled, but us two couldn"t do nothing! Tide"s due at eleven, and it"s going to rain, so I left him, and come in for some men.
Henderson"s just about crazy! They lost a boy in that tide-marsh a while back."
"It"s too awful,--it"s just murder to let "em go there!" said Mary Bell, heart-sick. For no dragon of old ever claimed his prey more regularly than did the terrible pools and quicksands of the great marsh.
Mrs. Bates was practical. Her old face blanched, but she began to plan instantly.
"Don"t cry, Mary Bell!" said she; "this thing is in G.o.d"s hands. He can save the poor little fellers jest as easy with a one-legged man as he could with a hundred hands. You drive over to the depot, Stumpy, and tell the operator to plug away at Barville until he gets some one to take a message to Pitcher"s barn. It"ll be a good three hours before they even git this far," she continued doubtfully, as the old man eagerly rattled away, "and then they"ve got to get down to Henderson"s; but it may be an all-night search! Now, lemme see who else we can git.
Deefy, over to the saloon, wouldn"t be no good. But there"s Adams"s Chinee boy, he"s a good strong feller; you stop for him, and git Gran"pa Barry, too; he"s home to-night!"
"Look here, Mrs. Bates," said Mary Bell, "shall I go?"
The old woman speculatively measured the girl"s superb figure, her glowing strength, her eager, resolute face. Mary Bell was like a spirited horse, wild to be given her head.
"You"re worth three men," said the storekeeper.
"Got light boots?"
"Yes," said the girl, thrilled and quivering.
"You run git "em!" said Mrs. Bates, "and git your good lantern. I"ll be gitting another lantern, and some whiskey. Poor little fellers! I hope to G.o.d they"re all sneakin" home--afraid of a lickin"!--this very minute. And Mary Bell, you tell your mother I"ll close up, and come and sit with her!"
It was a sorry search-party, after all, that presently rattled out of town in the old wagon. On the back seat sat the impa.s.sive and good-natured Chinese boy, and a Swedish cook discovered at the last moment in the railroad camp and pressed into service. On the front seat Mary Bell was wedged in between the driver and Grandpa Barry, a thin, sinewy old man, stupid from sleep. Mary Bell never forgot the silent drive. The evening was turning chilly, low clouds scudded across the sky, little gusts of wind, heavy with rain, blew about them. The fall of the horse"s feet on the road and the rattle of harness and wheels were the only sounds to break the brooding stillness that preceded the storm. After a while the road ran level with the marshes, and they got the rank salt breeze full in their faces; and in the last light they could see the glitter of dark water creeping under the rushes. The first flying drops of rain fell.
"And right over the ridge," said Mary Bell to herself, "they are dancing!"
A fire had been built at the edge of the marsh, and three figures ran out from it as they came up: two boys and a heavy middle-aged man. It was for Mary Bell to tell Henderson that it would be hours before he could look for other help than this oddly a.s.sorted wagonful. The man"s disappointment was pitiful.
"My G.o.d--my G.o.d!" he said heavily, as the situation dawned on him, "an"
I counted on fifty! Well, "tain"t your fault, Mary Bell!"
They all climbed out, and faced the trackless darkening stretch of pools and hummocks, the treacherous, uncertain ground beneath a tangle of coa.r.s.e gra.s.s. Even with fifty men it would have been an ugly search.
The marsh, like all the marshes thereabout, was intersected at irregular intervals by decrepit lines of fence-railing, running down from solid ground to the water"s edge, half a mile away. These divisions were necessary for various reasons. In duck season the hunters who came up from San Francisco used them both as guides and as property lines, each club shooting over only a given number of sections. Between seasons the farmers kept them in repair, as a control for the cattle that strayed into the marsh in dry weather. The distance between these shaky barriers was some two or three hundred feet. At their far extremity, the posts were submerged in the restless black water of the bay.
Mary Bell caught Henderson"s arm as he stood baffled and silent.
"Mr. Henderson!" she said eagerly, "don"t you give in! While we"re waiting for the others we can try for the boys along the fences!
There"s no danger, that way! We can go way down into the marsh, holding on,--and keep calling!"
"That"s what I say!" shrilled old Barry, fired by her tone.