Madge Morton, Captain of the Merry Maid Part 7

"It isn't pretty," agreed Phyllis, with a shake of the head. "Girls, what shall we call our chaperon? And we have never named our houseboat, either. We have a day's work ahead of us. We must think of names for both of them."

"Wouldn't 'Miss Ann' do?" Eleanor asked.

"I think Ann is such a pretty name."

"I would rather you had a more individual name for me. I have often been called Ann."

"You might be the 'Queen of our s.h.i.+p of Dreams,'" laughed Lillian.

"That sounds altogether too high and mighty," objected Phyllis. "We ought to have something nice and chummy."

"We might call you 'Gem,' because it is short for Jemima, and in honor of these corn m.u.f.fins, which we call 'gems' in our part of the world,"

added Phil. "We'll think of a name yet. Come on, girls, we must get to work; there is so much to be done. Lillian, you and I must go up to the farmhouse to get some supplies this morning. Suppose we take a long walk this afternoon and explore the woods back of us?"

"We will think of the prettiest name we can for you and another for our houseboat," declared Lillian as the four girls rose from the table to go about their various tasks; "then we shall make our report to-night."

It was nearly four o'clock in the afternoon when the four churns started on their walk. Miss Jones did not go with them. She was tired and wished to sit out on the deck of the boat in the suns.h.i.+ne.

"Be back before dark, children," she called out gayly as the girls climbed up the little embankment. "Remember, you don't know your way in this country, as you do at old Harborpoint. I shall be uneasy about you if you aren't back on time."

There were several scattered farmhouses at the top of the hill that sloped down to the cove of the bay, but back of the farmlands lay a long stretch of forest. The ground was covered with a carpet of wild flowers and a few late violets.

Once the chums were fairly in the heart of the woods they did not meet another traveler. They seemed to have the forest to themselves. They had no thought of danger in the quiet woods, and Madge and Eleanor, who had been brought up in the country, were careful to watch the paths they followed.

They had been in the woods for an hour or more when Lillian, who was stooping over a clump of big, purple violets, thought she heard a peculiar sound resembling light footsteps, Whether there was a human being or an animal near them she could not tell. The footsteps would run rapidly and then stop abruptly.

"Phil," called Lillian, "I thought I heard something. Did you? Listen once more. There, did you hear that?"

Phil listened. "Not a sound, Airy Fairy Lillian. It must have been your fancy."

But Lillian was not convinced. Several times she believed she heard the noise again. However, she did not mention it.

As the girls came out of the woods to a little clearing Phil, who was in the lead, ran forward. "Madge, Eleanor," she called, "come here, quick! I am sure this must be a regular, old-time log cabin."

Before them the girls saw an old cabin that looked as though it had been empty for a quarter of a century. It was strongly built of logs, and the c.h.i.n.ks between the logs were filled with mud that had hardened like plaster. There were no windows in the cabin, except in the eaves.

The heavy door was half open, but it had an old-fas.h.i.+oned wooden latch on the outside.

"The old cabin looks rather creepy, doesn't it, Madge?" asked Eleanor.

"It is built more securely than our cabins farther down south, too.

This place seems more like a prison."

"It looks interesting. Let's go in to see it." Phil suggested.

The cabin stood in front of a stream of clear water. Close around it grew a number of dark old cedar trees.

Phil and Madge shoved open the heavy door. Inside, the one large room looked gray and dark, as the only light came from the two small windows so far overhead.

"I would rather not go in, Madge," protested Eleanor, hesitating on the threshold after Lillian had followed the other two girls inside.

"Don't be a baby, Eleanor," scolded Madge. "There is nothing to hurt you."

Once inside the old house, Eleanor was as much interested as her chums.

There was no furniture in the place, but a few faded pictures were tacked up on the walls, and the corners of the room were thick with mysterious and inviting shadows.

As they cl.u.s.tered in a group under an old magazine picture of a darkey with a fiddle in his hand there was an unexpected sound just outside the door, and the big room grew suddenly darker.

The four girls turned simultaneously.

The heavy door through which they had entered the cabin, and which was the only entrance, had been shut fast. At the same instant there was the sound of a heavy, sliding bolt, then the rush of flying feet.

For the moment no one of the girls realized the seriousness of what had happened.

"Some one must have locked us in for a joke," declared Phil stoutly.

Madge ran to the door and shook it with all her strength. It was built of heavy logs, and, though the girls could see the daylight through the cracks between the timbers, the door showed no sign of opening.

"Don't work so hard, Madge," remonstrated Phil. "Whoever shut us in will come back in a moment to unfasten the bolt."

The girls waited a long time. No one returned.

"Perhaps the person who closed the door did not know there was any one in the cabin," suggested Eleanor faintly.

"But we were all talking, Nellie. No one but a deaf person could have failed to hear us," Lillian insisted.

Eleanor realized the truth of the words.

"Don't be frightened, Nellie," begged Madge remorsefully. "Let's all push against the door at the same time. I am sure we shall be able to break the bolt. One, two, three! Now--all together!"

The four girls shoved with all their might, until their arms ached and their faces perspired from the exertion. Still the old door resisted them. Perhaps Eleanor was right and the log house had been built as a prison.

"I think we had better call for help," was Phil's practical suggestion.

"If we all scream together, we ought to make considerable noise. I am afraid Miss Jones may become worried about us before any one comes to let us out."

The girls called and called, until their voices were hoa.r.s.e, but no one answered them. Each girl remembered that she had not met a single person in her journey through the woods.

Then the prisoners made a trip around the big room, poking and peering about to see if there were any other possible method of escape.

"If I could only get up to one of those windows, I could easily break the bars and try to jump out of it," speculated Madge aloud. "But, alas, I am not a monkey! I can't climb straight up the side of a wall."

"You shall not try it, either," retorted Eleanor determinedly. "You would break your neck if you tried to jump from one of those high windows. Thank goodness, you can't climb up to them!"

"You were the wise one, Nell, and we wouldn't listen to you." Madge eyed Eleanor mournfully. She had an overwhelming desire to burst into tears.

"Don't take it so to heart, Madge," comforted her cousin. "Some one is sure to come this way finally, if we only call long enough."

But the afternoon shadows lengthened and no one came. Gradually the twilight fell, enveloping the big, bare room in hazy darkness. The prisoners huddled together with white and weary faces. They thought of their cosy houseboat with the little lamps lit in the dining room, and the big lantern hanging in the bow, and of Miss Jones, who by this time was no doubt anxiously waiting and watching for their return.

It was perhaps eight o'clock, although to the girls it seemed midnight, when Lillian whispered: