Madge Morton's Secret Part 13

"You poor, pretty thing!" exclaimed Phil impulsively, stooping to look more closely at the fawn, which was s.h.i.+vering with terror and hunger.

Then Phil, in spite of her lately acquired skill with the rifle, looked fearfully about her.

The girls in their long rambles through the woods had observed several times, from afar, the antlers of a red deer, with her hind grazing quietly beside her. They had never gone near enough to be in any danger. And they had seen no other animals in the woods in the daytime except the wild hare and the squirrels. Only at night the screech of the wildcats in the forests had penetrated behind the closed doors of their sleeping lodge.

Phyllis knew that a deer will seldom risk an attack, but that it will make a tremendous fight in defence of its young. Phil had no idea of being sacrificed, so she edged carefully away, gazing in every direction through the trees. There was no sign of any other deer.

By some chance the mother deer must have wandered off in the forest after food and died. Nothing else could have made her leave her fawn long enough to cause it so nearly to perish from cold and hunger.

What could Phil do? She was afraid to pick the fawn up for fear she had been mistaken in her surmise. Yet it seemed too cruel to leave the beautiful little creature to perish. If Phil wished to save it, how could she manage it? She already carried their beloved rifle, which, with a supply of ammunition, had been their lucky discovery in the hunting lodge. Bunny was not to be thrown away. He meant dinner for the houseboat party. The deer was small and thin, yet it was a good armful.

Phil might have shot the tiny fawn and so spared it the misery of slowly starving to death. Hunters, who care little for the lives of the creatures in the woods, declare that it is difficult to shoot a deer, once it has gazed with its wistful, trusting look into one's eyes. What chance had tender-hearted Phil, with her dread of having anything in the world suffer, against the appeal of the forsaken creature?

"Oh, me, oh, my! I suppose I must take you home to our lodge to take care of," relented Phil, "though I am sure that Miss Jenny Ann will not rejoice at another mouth to feed."

Phil carefully emptied the barrels of her rifle so as not to endanger her own life. She took some stout twine out of her pocket and swung her rabbit around her neck. She fastened her gun to her side in awkward fas.h.i.+on with another piece of cord, so as to leave both arms almost free.

Then Phil stooped and picked up the poor little fawn. It struggled at first and kicked its feeble legs. But after a little it was too weak and feeble for further resistance. It lay quite still.

In spite of this, Phil's return home began to grow difficult. She had never carried such an uncomfortable baby before. Yet she had often shouldered the twins at home, and had borne them both, kicking and wriggling with delight, about the garden. But this burden was such an odd and unaccustomed shape!

Phyllis sat down on a log under a chestnut tree and regaled herself with chestnuts while she rested. She was beginning to be afraid she would be late for luncheon at their lodge and she was ravenously hungry. Perhaps one of the girls would come out to look for her.

Miss Jenny Ann and her girls had been living an enchanted life for the past fortnight. Not a single human being had they seen since their strange arrival on the unknown island. They had been deep into the woods on both sides of their lodges. They had wandered up and down the sh.o.r.e that sheltered their deserted "Merry Maid." But they had not yet crossed to the opposite side of the island. The way was jungle-like and untrodden. Miss Jenny Ann feared that, once lost, they would never find their way back to their shelter again. So far she hoped for rescue from a s.h.i.+p that must some day pa.s.s within range of the island. She believed the other sh.o.r.e to be as deserted as the one on which the "Merry Maid"

had landed.

"Madge and Lillian must have finished with their fis.h.i.+ng hours ago,"

reflected Phil. "I must not be so lazy; I must hurry along home."

Phyllis had placed her burden on the ground. She leaned over to pick it up. A sound of human voices smote her ear. The voices were not those of any member of the houseboat party. They were the voices of men.

Phil was startled--the sound was so unexpected and surprising. Without an instant's hesitation she slipped behind the giant chestnut tree and crouched low on the ground. The men were coming nearer. She had not been dreaming. It occurred to Phyllis at once that these men must be game-keepers, who had been sent to explore the island to see if any one had been shooting the game before the hunting season opened. And here was Phyllis Alden with a dead rabbit swung over one shoulder and a live fawn in her arms!

Had Phil stopped to consider she might have known that she could easily explain her presence to the men. But she did not stop to think, for she was much too frightened.

One of the men had a dark, uncompromising face. The other Phil did not see distinctly.

The men evidently believed the island as deserted as Phyllis had thought it before their appearance.

"It's a forsaken hole," one of the men said to the other. "For my part, I'll be glad when we are through with this business. I've no taste for it. I wish it were finished."

"Oh, the job's easy, if it is slow," the other man answered. "You ain't used to the things I am."

The men tramped on without dreaming of Phil or of her hiding place.

Once they were out of sight, Phyllis realized how foolish she had been.

She called after them, but they were now out of hearing. Phil felt ashamed of herself. Why had she been afraid of these two men? Could she go to the lodge and say to Miss Jenny Ann that she had let a possible chance of rescue pa.s.s by them?

Phil decided to linger in the woods no longer. No matter if her arms and her back did ache she must hurry back to tell Madge of the apparition she had seen.

"Phil Alden! Phil Alden!" Phyllis heard a clear voice calling to her.

Then she heard the violent ringing of their cherished dinner-bell.

"Here I am to the left," she shouted back. "Come here and help me carry these things."

Madge pushed her way through the bushes, radiant and glowing with health.

"For mercy's sake, Phil Alden, what have you there?" she demanded, taking Phil's rifle and the dead rabbit, but looking askance at her live offering.

"I am ashamed of myself," apologized Phil, "but I found this beautiful little thing starving to death, in the woods. Do you think Miss Jenny Ann will mind if I take care of it and feed it until it is old enough to look after itself?"

"Of course not, Phil. But what do you expect to feed your adopted deer on? It seems to me that a little fawn like that must prefer milk as an article of diet, and we have found no cows on the island--up to the present." Madge patted the top of the fawn's soft head while she teased her chum.

Phil was thrown into consternation. "Gracious, Madge, you are right!"

she agreed. "I never thought of it. But you know we are still having oatmeal for our breakfast. I'll ask Miss Jenny Ann to let me give my share to the fawn. Before the porridge gives out I expect we shall be rescued, or my baby will be grown-up enough to take care of itself."

Phil p.r.o.nounced the word "rescued" in such fas.h.i.+on that Madge stopped in her forward march to question her.

"Out with it, Phil! You have something on your mind," she declared.

"You might as well tell me."

After Phil had finished her story of seeing the men the two girls agreed not to mention Phil's encounter in the woods to Miss Jenny Ann or to the other two girls until they had had more time to think things over.

"I love our woods and sometimes I think I would like to live here always, Phil," returned Madge, "but it is our duty to get away when we can. It may be best for you and me to search over this whole island until we find those two men again."

The door of one of the hunting lodges stood wide open. Phil put down her fawn on a mound of soft gra.s.s and flashed cheerfully in. "Here I am at last, hungry as a bear!" she exclaimed. "I'm so glad to be at home again."

Eleanor and Miss Jenny Ann were bending over the fireplace, stirring something savory in a big iron pot.

Lillian was putting the finis.h.i.+ng touches to the small kitchen table, which had been transferred from the houseboat to the center of one of the cabin rooms. In the middle she had placed a great bunch of scarlet berries and wild sumach leaves. At one end was a dish of roasted chestnuts, cracked hickory nuts and walnuts. On the other, piled on a plate of leaves, were a few wild fruits that Eleanor had been able to find that morning.

The single dirty room which the houseboat party discovered had now been transformed. This lodge was now used for the living quarters of the houseboat derelicts, the other little house for their sleeping apartment. The hemlock beds had been swept away, and the whole place scrubbed as clean as possible.

The room was bright with the October sunlight. The walls were hung with trophies of the woods, branches of scarlet leaves and vines of wild clematis. In one corner of the room the big wood basket was filled with nuts of every kind, gathered after the first frost, the girls' sole provision against the winter. A string of fresh fish, Madge's and Lillian's morning catch, was floating about in a bucket of fresh water.

The girls gathered around the table. Miss Jenny Ann lifted up the great iron pot and poured a savory stew into a great bowl.

"Guess what it is, Phil?" cried Madge. The dish was filled with potatoes, brought over from the houseboat larder, and big pieces of a dark, rich looking meat.

Phil shook her head. "I can't guess. I'd rather eat," she replied.

"It's old 'Ma.r.s.e Terrapin.' Don't you remember him in the story of Uncle Remus? Lillian and I found him strolling along the sh.o.r.e. Who says we are not full-fledged Crusoes?"

CHAPTER XIV

CAUGHT IN A STAMPEDE