CHAPTER X
TROUBLES NEVER COME SINGLY
“We have waited for Pokey’s arrival before making our first visit to the ‘Chapel’ this year,” said Mrs. Lombard, when all were seated at the dinner-table at one o’clock on Sunday.
“Haven’t you been up there at all this year?” she asked, for it was one of her favorite spots.
“No; but John finished putting it in order yesterday afternoon and we will all go up at about three o’clock.”
“Oh, splendid!” cried Denise. “I’ve got the loveliest book for you to read, Pokey, and I’ll take dear old Tan and Ned. Tan can go up the hill as easy as can be.”
Before long the whole party set out for the beautiful little woodland retreat which went by the name of the Chapel because, during the summer the family spent nearly every Sunday afternoon there, resting in the hammocks, in the comfortable rustic seats, or stretched at length upon the soft moss. Plenty of cushions were always carried, and a more restful, soothing spot it would have been hard to find. The path led through the fields up the hill and to the woods’ edge, and just within it, where the view of the river was most charming, the seats had been built. But between the previous late autumn days and this warm July one, something else had been built, too, although the owner of the property little suspected that squatters had taken possession of a portion of this land. Possibly he would never have made the discovery at all, had not his daughter and her pets brought it about. All were toiling up the hill, burdened with their pet cushions, books, etc., with Denise in the lead, Tan on one side of her, and Ned on the other. She had thrown an arm across each neck, and was saying, “Now ‘hay-foot, straw-foot’” to teach them to keep in step. Not far behind came Pokey upon “Mrs. Mamma’s” arm, for Pokey had not had time to get her climbing wind yet, and the hill made her pant. Grandma was assisted by papa’s arm, and all were “making haste slowly.”
“Hay-foot! Straw-foot! Hay-foot! S-t-r-a-w—Ohw-w-w-w-w!!!!!” “Baa-a-a-a-a-a!” and a screeching neigh! Then pandemonium reigned for a few moments, for the “straw-foot” no, feet, three of them! had been planted fairly and squarely into a ground-hornet’s nest, and, in far less time than it takes to tell about it, these “three musketeers” wore yellow and brown uniforms, for the hornets literally covered them as a garment. Mr. Lombard rushed to Denise’s rescue, or there is no telling what her fate would have been, shouting to the others as he ran to fly for their lives. Ned did not wait to be told, but tore down the hill as though all the demons from the lower regions had attacked him, while poor, stiff old Tan forgot all his stiffness and fled for “home and peace” like any kid. But Mr. Lombard found his task no easy one, for the enraged hornets were venting their wrath upon poor little Denise, and he had actually to scrape them from her legs with a stick, only to find them swarm upon the next unprotected spots and upon himself. At last, in desperation, he rolled her in a rug he had brought with him, and tore down the hill, mamma having fled at the first alarm to send John to his assistance.
If you have ever been stung by even one hornet, you will know just about a one-hundredth part of what Denise was enduring then, for some of the hornets were still on her and Mr. Lombard.
John now came hurrying up, and, taking Denise from her father’s arms, fled for home, leaving Mr. Lombard to dispose of his little enemies.
For a few hours there were lively scenes enacted in that home, for while Mrs. Lombard and grandma, with Eliza the cook, and Mary the maid, to help, administered all manner of home remedies to the sufferers, John, mounted upon Flash, rushed for the doctor, and Pokey sat down and quietly sobbed in one corner.
She had not been stung, but was filled with anxiety for Denise, and heart-broken to see her suffer as she was suffering.
Dr. Swift was as good as his name, and came with all haste to give relief, but it was many days before Denise could leave her room, and Pokey was her greatest comfort, for the dear child cared for her as she used to care for the invalid dolls. But before Denise could get about again upon those poor swollen legs, something else happened which almost reconciled the family to her having been so severely stung that she was confined to her room.
Ned and Tan were not much the worse for their experience, for their hair had been a protection, and a vigorous rolling in the dusty road had produced a wonderfully pacifying effect upon those rampant insects. After he had done all he could for the family, John turned his attention to the pets, and had just made Tan comfortable and begun upon Ned when he noticed a man standing by the fence and looking at the pony as he brushed him and rubbed ointment where the stings were worst. John gave a friendly nod, and said: “It’s lively work we’ve been havin’ these past two hours!”
“What’s happened?” asked the man.
John related the story, embellishing it, till the man might have thought that Denise had retired in a garment made of hornets.
“Fine little beast, that,” said the man presently.
“You niver saw the loike of him in all your loife!” said John proudly.
“What will you take for him?”
“What’ll I take for him, is it, ye’re askin’? Faith he’s not mine to sell, as ye well know, but ye’d better not be askin’ the master that same.”
“What’s the boss’s name?”
“What’s that to you?” demanded John with some asperity, for he was beginning to dislike the man.
“Say, I know a man who’ll give a cool two-fifty for him and never wink.”
“Well, he may save his offer, thin, for the boss paid three-fifty for him not two year ago, and wouldn’t sell him for twice that, and don’t you forgit it aither, me son.”
“Want ter make a deal? You git him to sell the little horse to my man for what he paid fer him, an’ it’ll mean a fifty for you.”
But this was too much. “Who the divvil are ye, thin, I’d loike to know? Get out av this, an’ if I catch ye about the place with yer blackguard offers I’ll call the constable for ye as sure as iver me name’s John Noonan,” and John advanced toward the fence with ire in his eyes.
“Did iver ye listen to sooch chake as that, me foin boy?” he asked his small charge. “Don’t ye let it worry ye heart, me soon; it’s not goin’ to be sold out of this home ye are! Not fer no money!”
On Monday the circus gave another performance, and after that, in the evening, crossed the river by special arrangement with the ferry-boat and went upon its way.
As Pokey never drove Ned, he was not used at all on Monday, and at eight o’clock had been locked in his little stable by John, and left, as usual, to his dreams.
It was John’s custom to come early to his work, his own home being but a short walk across the fields, and six o’clock usually found him at the stable-door, to be greeted with welcoming neighs by the horses, which had learned to love him, and by Denise’s pets, who found in John a very faithful attendant. After opening up the big stable he went over to the “Birds’ Nest,” and was surprised to find the door unlocked.
“Now who’s been that careless, I wonder,” he muttered.
Then, entering, he wondered not to hear Ned’s morning greeting. Filled with an unaccountable misgiving, he hurried across the floor and looked over the top of the door of the night-stall, but Ned was gone!
But even then the true situation did not dawn upon him, and he hurried out to look all about the grounds and in every place Ned could possibly have gone. But no Ned was to be found, and now, thoroughly alarmed, he went to the kitchen to ask Eliza, who was just lighting her morning fire, to call Mr. Lombard.
“Whatever has happened you?” demanded Eliza, looking up from her range. “Ye look like ye’d seen a ghost.”
“The little horse is gone! I’ve hunted the place for him and can find no trace of him,” answered John, in a distressed voice.
“The Lord save us! What will that dear child do?” cried Eliza in dismay.
“Go quick and call master,” was John’s answer.
“Don’t let this get to Miss Denise’s ears if it can possibly be helped,” said Mr. Lombard when he and John had returned from a fruitless search. “There may be some foundation for your suspicion regarding that man who spoke to you on Sunday, and, coupled with what Denise has told me about the circus-manager’s questions, I am forced to admit that it does not look well. Go up to the village and ask Mr. Stevens to come to me as quickly and as quietly as possible, for this case needs both a lawyer and detectives. I will warn the others to keep silent,” and with a very troubled face Mr. Lombard entered the house.
But all that day passed, and still others, without revealing a trace of Ned. Inquiries set afoot came to naught. The circus had left at one A. M., but Ned had not been among the ponies. If he were really stolen, as Mr. Lombard was reluctantly compelled to believe, for that wise little beast was not going to lose himself or stay away from home voluntarily, those who tried to get him away must have used great skill, for everybody in that town knew him.
The search had been on foot for three days when the thunderbolt fell from the sky, dropped by Hart.
Mrs. Lombard, Denise, and Pokey were sitting in the former’s pleasant room on Thursday morning when Hart called to Mrs. Lombard from the bottom of the stairs, “Please may I speak with you a second?”
Mrs. Lombard hastened into the hall, for she was fearful that the message pertained to Ned, and, even though the voice vibrated with hope, she did not wish it to be heard by Denise unless it was the one message she longed for. Hart had scoured the country on Pinto, but thus far to no purpose. Half-way down the stairs Hart met her, and whispered, as he supposed, in a low voice: “They think they have found tracks of him because that man who spoke to John was seen away up on Hook Mountain, and had come across the river in a great big boat, big enough to carry Ned over in! And—”
“Hush!” whispered Mrs. Lombard, holding up a warning finger, but it was too late. Over the railing hung a white little face, and a pair of wild eyes looked beseechingly at her as Denise demanded: “What do you mean? Ned found? Traces of Ned? Where is he? What has happened? Tell me right off.”