Dorothy on a House Boat Part 19

"No, thank you. I've invested all I can afford in monkeys just now, don't you know? But I'd sell out, only I do want to give them to her.

She's such a darling of a girl, to entertain us like this. She might have been born in our Province, I fancy, she's so like a Canadian in kindness and generosity."

It was a long speech for modest Melvin and an enthusiastic one. He blushed a little as he felt his comrades' eyes turned teasingly upon him, but he did not retract his words. He added to them:

"Dorothy Calvert makes me think of my mother, don't you know? And a girl that does that is an all right sort I fancy. Anyway, I've thought lots of times, since I found out it was she and not the rich aunt who was paying the expenses of our jaunt, that it was mighty unselfish of her to do it. Jim's let that 'cat out the bag.' He was too top-lofty to take a cent of profit from that mine he discovered last summer for Mr. Ford, but all the girls were made small shareholders and got three hundred dollars a-piece for a send-off. Miss Molly, whose father I work for, put hers right into gew-gaws or nonsense, but I think Dolly's done better. The least I can do to show her my appreciation is to give her the monkeys."

"Speak for yourself, sir, please. Half that monkey transaction is mine, and I don't intend to impoverish myself for any girl. I mean to train them till they're worth a lot of money, then sell them."

"Oh! no you won't. You're not half bad, don't you know? You like to talk something fierce but it's _talk_. If it isn't, pick out your own monk and be off with it. You'll have to leave me the cage for Dorothy because she'll have to keep _my_ monk, _her_ monk, _the_ monk in it sometimes."

"Most of the times I guess. I don't like the looks of the creatures anyway. They're ugly. I wish you fellows had left them on that sailor's hands. He just befooled us with his big talk. Why, sir, I got so interested myself I'd have hired out to any s.h.i.+p would have me if it had come along just then. Queer, ain't it? The way just _talk_ can change a fellow's mind," said Jim. "h.e.l.lo, Cap'n! What you found now?"

The old man had been limping about on the bank where Billy had enjoyed himself, and which his teeth had shorn smooth as a mowing machine might have done. It was a field rarely used, which explains why Billy and Methuselah had been left to do as they pleased there. So Metty had carried thither all the trifling toys and playthings he had picked up during his trip. Sh.e.l.ls, curious stones, old nails, a battered jew's-harp, and a string of b.u.t.tons, had been stored in an old basket which the pickaninny called his playhouse.

The playhouse caught the old man's eye and the end of his crutch as well, and he glared angrily upon the "trash" which had come in his way. Also, he lifted the crutch and flung Metty's treasures broadcast.

Among them was an old wallet, still securely strapped with a bit of leather. Captain Jack had a notion he'd seen that wallet before, but couldn't recall where. Opening it he drew out a yellowed bit of old-fas.h.i.+oned letter-paper on which a rude picture was sketched. There were a few written words at the bottom of the sketch, but "readin'

handwrite" was one of the accomplishments the good captain disdained.

But his curiosity was aroused and he whistled to the lads to join him, holding up the paper as an inducement. They did so, promptly, and Jim took the extended paper, thinking it was another note from the absent "Lilies," as the house-boat company had named itself.

Then he, too, whistled, and cried:

"h.e.l.lo! Here's a find! Has something to do with that fool talk o'

Dolly's about 'buried treasure.' Somebody's been bamboozlin' her and this is part of it."

The four heads bent together above the odd little doc.u.ment, which had been folded and unfolded so often it was quite frayed in places with even some of the writing gone.

The drawing represented a bit of woodland, with a stream flowing past, and a ford indicated at one point, with animals drinking. It was marked by the initials of direction, N, S, E, W; and toward the latter point a zig-zag line suggested a path. The path ended at the root of a tree whose branches grew into something like the semblance of a cross.

Unfortunately, the writing was in French, a language not one understood. But, found as it was, evidently lost by somebody who had valued it, and taken in conjunction with Dorothy's words--"buried treasure"--it was enough to set all those young heads afire with excitement. Even the Captain took the paper and again critically studied it; remarking as he replaced it in the wallet:

"Dretful sorry I didn't fetch my readin'-specs when I come away from town. Likely, if I had I could ha' explained its hull meanin'."

"Dreadful sorry it wasn't Greek, or even Latin! I could have ciphered the meaning then, if it has a meaning. But every-day French, shucks!"

"How do you know it's French if you don't know French?" demanded Gerry.

"Oh! I've seen it in Dr. Sterling's library. I know a word or two an'

I plan to know more. Don't it beat all? That just a little bit of ignorance can hide important things from a fellow, that way? I tell you there never was a truer word spoke than that 'knowledge is power'."

Melvin cried:

"Come off! That'll do. Once you get talking about learning and you're no good. Cap'n, you best stow that in your pocket and help us settle how to 'follow our leaders'. For my part, I've no notion of sleeping out doors, now that it looks so likely to storm. What'll we do?"

"Hoof it to the Landin' and hire a conveyance. One that'll carry us an' the boat, too. That's what she says, and if there's a girl in the hull state o' Maryland, or Annyrunnell, either, that's got more sense in her little head nor my 'fust mate', Dorothy, you show me the man 'at says so, an' I'll call him a liar to his face."

"That's all right, Cap'n, only don't get so excited about it. n.o.body's trying to take the wind out of Dorothy's sails. So let's get on. I reckon I can punt along as far as that Landing, even with a cargo of monkeys. Then Gerry can take his and skip, and we'll take the other to our folks."

Melvin was laughing as he talked. Gerald's angry, disgusted face had changed its expression entirely, since that finding of the curious map which made the possibility of the "buried treasure" seem so real.

"Oh! I won't bother now. I reckon I'd ought to go on and ask Aurora if she wants to go home with me, or not. Popper and Mommer'd be sure to ask me why I didn't bring her. We can settle about the monkeys later."

"Huh! I tell you what I believe! 'Wild horses couldn't drag' you back to town till you've found out all about what that Frenchy letter means and have had a dig for the 'treasure'. I know it couldn't _me_. There isn't a word of sense in the whole business, course. Likely these whole States have been dug over, foot by foot, same's our Province has, don't you know? But my mother says there always have been just such foolish bodies and there always will be. Silly, I fancy; all the same, if Dorothy or anybody else starts on this business of digging, I'll ply the liveliest shovel of the lot."

Melvin but expressed the sentiments of all three lads. Even the old captain was recalling wonder-tales, such as this might be, and feeling thrills of excitement in his old veins. Suddenly, he burst out:

"Well, I'd be some hendered by my crutches but when you get to diggin'

just lemme know an' I'll be thar!"

They waited no longer then, but stepped back into the "Stem," the caged monkeys viciously scolding and sometimes yelling, till the Captain fairly choked with fear and indignation. However, nothing serious happened. They reached Jimpson's in a little while, and were fortunate in finding a teamster about to start home along the river road. His wagon was empty, the row-boat could be slung across it, there would be abundant room for pa.s.sengers--including monkeys--a new sort of "fare" to him.

But they had scarcely got started on this part of their journey before the threatening storm was upon them. This "gust" was a fearful one, and they were exposed to its full fury. The driver s.h.i.+elded himself as best he could under his blankets but offered none to his pa.s.sengers.

The sky grew dark as night, relieved only by the lightning, and rivalled, in fact, that tempest which had visited them on the first day of their trip.

Fortunately, horses know the homeward way--though to be literal these horses were mules--and they travelled doggedly along, unguided save by their own instinct. Also, when they had ridden so far that it seemed to the drenched travellers that they had always been so riding and always should be, there came a sudden slackening in the storm and an outburst of moonlight from behind the scattering clouds that was fairly startling.

After a moment of surprise Melvin broke the silence, asking:

"Do you have this kind of thing often in Maryland?"

"Sure. Down in Annyrunnell we do. 'S nothin' but a 'gust'. Most gen'ally has 'em if the day opens up hot, like this one did. But it's purty when it's over, and yender's the turn to the Copse. My road lies t'other way. It's a quarter a-piece for you white folks an' fifty a-head fer the monks. I 'low 'twas them hoodooed the trip. Hey? What?

Can't pay? What in reason 'd ye hire me for, then? I ain't workin' for fun, I'd let you know. We're honest folks in Annyrunnell an' we don't run up no expenses 't we can't meet. No, siree. You asked me to bring you an' I've brung. Now you don't leave this here wagon till I've got my money for my job."

"Look here, farmer! What sort of a man are you, anyway? We went off fis.h.i.+ng not expecting our house-boat would go on without us. We had no mon----" began Jim, about as angry as he had ever been in his self-controlled life.

"You had money enough to buy fool monkeys, didn't you?"

Gerald answered promptly:

"That's none of your business! Suppose we did. We paid it and it's gone. So put that in your pipe and smoke it."

Came the sullen answer: "Don't smoke. Don't waste _my_ money. Pay up now, and get on. I want my supper, and it's past milkin' time a'ready."

Melvin was shaking with chill, sitting there in his wet clothes, but the absurdity of the situation appealed to him, and he asked:

"Since we've spent all our money for monkeys, will you take a monk for pay?"

"No, siree. I've no use fer such vermin an' you'll get sick enough of 'em, 'fore you're through." With that the teamster drew his driest blanket about him, settled himself comfortably, and pretended to go to sleep. "Wake me up when you get ready to pay."

Then began a fresh search in every pocket for the needed two dollars which would release them from this imprisonment.

"I haven't got a penny!" declared old Cap'n Jack with tearful earnestness. "I spent every last one a-fixin' up to look like a skipper'd ought to."

"I _did_ have a little, but I left it in my bunk. I was afraid I'd spend it if I didn't almost hide it from myself," wailed honest Jim.

"All I had, except what I paid the sailor, is in my other clothes; that bill I gave the sailor was one I always carried with me because my mother gave----"

Melvin didn't finish his sentence. He couldn't. He was s.h.i.+vering too much and that sudden memory of his idolized mother almost unmanned him. Suppose he were to contract pneumonia? Her constant dread was that he should be ill and die.