An eclipse it certainly was. Slowly, surely, the black shadow crept, crept, over the silver disk; now a quarter of its surface was hidden; now it went creeping, creeping on toward the half.
"It is going to be a total eclipse!" said Mrs. Merryweather. "I suppose I ought to wake some of them."
She stood a moment more, looking irresolutely at the sleeping children.
"I cannot possibly wake them!" she said at last. "Little lambs! they are sleeping so beautifully, and they certainly were _not_ quite themselves this afternoon. Besides, there will be plenty more eclipses; I"ll go and wake some of the others."
The black shadow crept on. Hardly less silent, Mrs. Merryweather paused before the tent where her daughters slept. Bell and Gertrude scorned cots, and their mattresses were spread on the floor at night, and rolled up in the daytime. There the two girls lay, still and placid, statue-like, save for the gentle heaving of their quiet b.r.e.a.s.t.s. A fair picture for a mother to look on. Miranda Merryweather looked, and drew a happy breath; looked again, and shook her head. "I cannot wake them!"
she murmured to herself. "They are both tired after that expedition; Bell paddled very hard on the way back; she was much more flushed than I like to see her, when she came in. And Gertrude sleeps so lightly, I fear she might not get to sleep again if I were to wake her now."
The black shadow crept on; the mother crept into the boys" tent, and stood beside Gerald"s cot. The lad lay with his arms flung wide apart; his curly hair was tossed over his broad open forehead; his clear-cut features were set as if in marble.
"He has such a beautiful forehead!" said Mrs. Merryweather. "He sleeps so very sound, that if I were to wake him he might not be able to sleep again. Dear Jerry!"
She moved over to Phil"s cot: Phil was uneasy, and as she stopped to straighten the bedclothes, he turned on his side, muttering something that sounded like "Bother breakfast!"
"Poor laddie!" said Mrs. Merryweather. "He looks as if he might have a headache. I wish I had made him take a nice little cup of hot malted milk before he went to bed. It is out of the question to wake him, when he is sleeping so uneasily."
She left the tent, with hardly a glance toward Jack Ferrers, who lay in the farthest cot. The idea of waking him, and having him disturb her own boys, was too preposterous to be entertained for an instant.
The black shadow had crept entirely over the moon; no silver disk now, only a shield of dull bronze; "like some of the Pompeiian bronzes!" Mrs.
Merryweather thought. "It is very extraordinary. I suppose I really _ought_ to wake Miles."
She entered her own tent, and stood by her husband"s cot. Miles Merryweather was sleeping quite as soundly as any of his children; in fact, he was a very statue of sleep; but his wife laid her hand gently on his shoulder. "Miles!" she said; it must be confessed that she did not speak very loud. "Miles, there is an eclipse!"
Mr. Merryweather did not stir.
"Miles! do you want to wake up?"
No reply; no motion of the long, still form. Mrs. Merryweather breathed more freely. "Miles was more tired to-night than I have seen him all summer!" she said. "He cannot remember that we are not twenty-five any more. It is very bad for a man to get overtired when he is no longer young. Well, I certainly did try to wake him; but such a _very_ sound sleep as this shows how much he needed it. I am sure it is much more important for him to sleep than to see the eclipse; it isn"t as if he had not seen plenty of eclipses in his life. Of course, if it had been the sun, it would have been different."
She stood at the door of the tent, watching. Slowly, slowly, the black shadow pa.s.sed; slowly, slowly, the silver crescent widened to a broad arc, and finally to the perfect argent round; once more the whole world lay bathed in silver light. Mrs. Merryweather gazed on peacefully, and murmured under her breath certain words that she loved:
""Queen and huntress, chaste and fair, Now the sun is gone to sleep, Seated in thy silver chair, State in wonted measure keep.
Hesperus entreats thy light, G.o.ddess excellently bright!"
"But if Roger had been here," said Miranda Merryweather, "I should certainly have waked him, because he is a scientific man, and it would have been only right!"
CHAPTER XII.
"SHOULD AULD ACQUAINTANCE BE FORGOT--"
"A wet sheet and a flowing sea, A wind that follows fast--"
PHIL MERRYWEATHER was singing as he brought his boat about. "Slacken your sheet, Peggy! easy--that"s right! a half-hitch--look here, young lady! I believe you have been humbugging us all; don"t tell me you never sailed a boat before!"
"Never in all my life!" said Peggy, looking up joyously. "I have only dreamed of it and thought about it, ever since I can remember. And I have read the "Seaman"s Friend," and "Two Years Before the Mast," so I do know a little bit about how things ought to go. I think every girl ought to learn how to sail a boat, if she possibly can; but out on the ranch, you see, there really wasn"t any chance. We could only make believe, but we used to have great fun doing that."
"How did you make your believe? I should like to hear about it. Ease her off a bit--so--as you are!"
"Why, we made a boat out of the great swing in the barn. It is a huge barn, and the swing is big enough for three elephants to swing on at once; and Hugh fastened hammocks along it lengthwise, and then rigged ropes and pulleys for us, and an old canvas hammock with the ends cut off for a sail; so we swung, and called it sailing, and had storms and shipwrecks, and all kinds of adventures. It was great fun. Oh, I do wish some of you could come out to the ranch some day. If there was only water, it would be the best place in the world--except this and Fernley."
"I"m coming some day!" said Phil. "See if I don"t. It must be corking sport, riding about over those great plains."
"Oh! it is!" cried Peggy. "When you come, Phil, you shall ride Monte. He is the most beautiful creature, a Spanish jennet. Jack Del Monte sent him to brother Jim, but he isn"t up to Jim"s weight, so he lets me ride him. He is like the horses in poetry, that is the only way I can describe him; white as milk, with great dark eyes, and graceful--oh, I _do_ want you to see him. No horse in poetry was ever half so beautiful; in fact, I think I take back what I said; I don"t really think poets know much about horses; do you?"
""Zebra-footed, ostrich-thighed,"" quoted Phil, laughing.
"I know!" said Peggy, indignantly. "Now, the idea, Phil! one thinks of a poor dear horse all over ostrich feathers behind, which is dreadful. But then, I don"t understand poetry, except about battles, Macaulay and Scott. Don"t you love "Marmion"?"
"Indeed I do!" said Phil, heartily. "Hi!"
This last brief exclamation was made in a tone of some concern.
"What is it?" asked Peggy. "Am I tr.i.m.m.i.n.g wrong?"
"Right as a trivet! but--have you ever heard of a williwaw, Peggy?"
"It"s a squall, isn"t it? Captain Sloc.u.m tells about them in "Sailing Alone Round the World.""
"That"s it! Well, I think we are going to get one. If you will take the helm again for a moment, I"ll take in a reef."
Peggy took the tiller in her strong little brown hand, and looked on admiringly while Phil reefed the sail with creditable swiftness. Soon all was tight, and the two young people watched with cheerful interest the coming on of the squall.
On it came, a line of white on the water, a gray curtain of driving rain above it. The wind began to sing in the rigging of the sailboat; next moment she heeled heavily over, and sped along with her lee rail under water.
"I"d sit pretty well up to windward if I were you," shouted Phil.
"You"ll be dryest on the gunwale, if you don"t mind!"
As Peggy seated herself with alacrity on the gunwale, Phil looked at her with approval. Her eyes were shining, her whole rosy face alight with happy excitement.
"Now, that"s the kind of girl I like to see!" said this young gentleman, forgetting that he had been seeing three of the same kind ever since he could remember; but sisters are different!
"Not so bad, eh?" he said, as he took another turn on the sheet.
"Oh, Phil, it is perfectly splendid! why, we are simply flying! Oh, I wish it was like this all the time."
"Hi!" said Phil again. "Everybody doesn"t seem to be of your opinion, Peggy. That boat over there will be in trouble if she doesn"t look out.
Sapolio! there is something wrong. We"d better run over and see."
At a little distance a small boat was tossing violently on the water; her sail was lowered, and a white handkerchief was fluttering from the stern like a signal of distress.
"Ready about!" said Phil. Peggy crouched down on the seat, the boom swung over, and the gallant little _Petrel_ flew swiftly as her namesake to the rescue.
"Anything wrong?" asked Phil, as he ran alongside the crippled boat.