Blacksheep! Blacksheep!, Meredith Nicholson [reading women .txt] 📗

child out yonder would go right up in the air. It would make a great first page story—buried treasure—a war for hidden gold centered about a girls' camp. That whole yarn about the haughty southerner planting his money in safe territory till he saw which way the cat jumped is fruity stuff for our special correspondent on the spot. No, Archie; ladies of quality like our Ruth and Isabel must be protected from vulgar publicity, and we don't want any sheriffs or newspaper reporters nosing around. It's up to you and me to smooth out their troubles without resorting to bothersome legal apparatus. The camp has no telephone; the road round to that peninsula is all but inaccessible. They have a launch they're in the habit of using to carry stuff across from Huddleston, but Mr. Richard Carey blocks the way! I got all this when I was delivering Edith over there at the back door. And Carey is camped at the land entrance, with an army of lumberjacks to help him maintain a blockade. On my way out I ran the gantlet, and if you think Carey is only fooling about this buried treasure business, gaze on this!"

He took off his cap and pointed to a hole through the baggy top.

"A bullet, Archie, fired from ambush with murderous intent."

"But she said her cousin was in love with her! It can't be possible that he's resorting to violence to drive her off land that belongs to her, with the idea that she'll meet him at the altar afterwards."

"There's no loving touch in that bullet hole! Heart o' Dreams Camp is in danger as long as that lunatic runs loose. They can't communicate with Huddleston or Calderville in their launch because Carey patrols the shore. It's a siege, Archie, and they're going to be hard put for provisions in another day or two."

"Then it's our duty to relieve the beleaguered garrison?"

"Nothing less than that! When I took Edith over to Heart o' Dreams, Isabel and Ruth wouldn't let me stay long enough to plan anything. They were pretty anxious, of course, with Carey trying to smoke them out; and they were afraid Putney would try to take Edith away from them. But from what you say it's only Eliphalet who's made the trouble and we don't need to fear anything from Putney. If it comes to a showdown I rather think he'll play with us. You're sure he doesn't suspect that Isabel's the head of Heart o' Dreams?"

"He hasn't the ghost of an idea of it. I tell you his spirit's broken anyhow. With Hoky's murder on his mind and the general muddle of his family affairs he doesn't care much which way the wind blows."

"That man needs occupation and we may find some way of using him. He looks as though he had red blood in him; a fighter if he was thoroughly aroused. If he knew the trick I've played on his father I guess that would tickle him considerably. The idea of old Eliphalet with his millions cruising the lakes with a band of the most accomplished outlaws in America is funny, Archie; real comedy I should call it. He's a prisoner on the Arthur B. Grover, only he doesn't know it. I mobilized that outfit thinking we might need some help up here and incidentally to keep Eliphalet where I could put my hand on him; but the whole thing's complicated, Archie. It's far more of a mess than I expected."

He found a smooth patch of sand and with a stick drew a number of diagrams, carefully effacing them after they had served his purpose.

"Humph! This is no time for weakening! Over there, Archie,"—he pointed toward Heart o' Dreams—"are the two finest women in the world. We're going to stand by them no matter whose head gets cracked."

He spoke lightly, but his brow clouded. It was evident that something of unhappy augury had been, revealed in his last appeal to the heavens.

"I want to be alone for a while," he said brusquely, "I'll turn up at supper time."

II

At the supper table a new direction was given to Archie's thoughts, for a time at least. Fortunately his nerves had grown accustomed to shocks and he was only dazed now by the intrusion of a new figure on the scene. The Governor and Congdon were already at the table when he reached the dining-room. Mrs. Leary had referred to an assistant she was expecting on the afternoon train, and as Archie appeared at the door a neatly attired waitress walked sedately before him to his place.

Sally Walker had faded in a long perspective of crowding memories. He never expected to see Sally again, but if the girl who stood by his chair was not Sally she was her twin. He sank into his seat, watching her out of the corner of his eye as she passed through the swing door with a flutter of her snowy apron. He replied feebly to the Governor's bantering salutation and nervously played with his fork. The Governor was soaring and Archie's bewilderment was evidently affording him secret delight.

Sally was not merely a past mistress of dissimulation; she was the undisputed reigning queen in that realm. She served the table with a strictly professional air, in no way betraying the fact that two of the guests had lately enjoyed the hospitality of her father's house or that she had beguiled one of them by the grossest misrepresentations to assist her to elope.

"There's custard and apple," she recited finally, "or you may have wheat cakes with syrup," and as Archie covertly met her eyes she winked, a wink not sly or vulgar but a wink expressive of mischief on a holiday and quite content with itself.

He was enormously curious to know how she had reached Huddleston and what her adventures had been on the way—matters as to which the suave Governor was no doubt fully informed, though he showed no disposition to disclose them.

For a gentleman, the guest of an inn, to lurk round the kitchen door waiting for a chance to address a waitress is wholly undignified, but Archie was doing this very thing the moment he could escape from the Governor and Congdon. Mrs. Leary was upstairs preparing additional rooms against the chance of further arrivals and Sally was alone in the kitchen.

"Well, I've got the same old job," she remarked carelessly, as Archie paused uncertainly on the threshold. "You're a pay guest here and I can't let you swing a towel, so if you want to talk take a chair on the side lines."

Sally was as handsome as ever; he had not been mistaken in thinking her a very handsome and attractive girl with a distinct charm. It seemed æons ago that he had kissed her; in fact it was almost unbelievable that he had ever kissed so radiant a being. She received him as an old friend, without a trace of embarrassment. Her ease put him at serious disadvantage. He was at a loss to know how to impress upon her the heinousness of the deceit she had practised upon him.

"Sally," he began in a tone that he meant to be sternly paternal, "I hope you realize that you treated me very shabbily up there at your father's. You not only behaved disgracefully, but you threw away your life, and the bright promise of your future. I was very stupid to fall into your trap. If things go wrong with you I shall always blame myself. And I don't see any chance for happiness for you unless you change your ways."

She deliberately concluded the drying of a plate, put it down, and threw the towel aside.

"Look here," she began, folding her arms and walking slowly toward him; "I'm not the worst girl in the world and I'm far from being the best. I lied to you and it was a nasty trick; but I had to get away from that farm; I simply couldn't stand it any longer. And I'd worried a lot about being the daughter of a crook; I honestly had. I always knew it would come out in me some way, and I thought the sooner the better. I just had to do some rotten thing to satisfy myself as to how it feels. You can understand that, can't you?"

"I think I can, Sally," he stammered. "But—"

"There's no butting about it! I just had to try it once, and you came along just when I needed you. Yes, sir; I took advantage of you because I saw you were a gentleman and sympathetic and full of that chivalry stuff; and I played on your feelings and made you the little goat. It wasn't nice of me."

"It certainly approached the unpardonable, Sally. And you not only ruined your own life but nearly caused me to lose my best friend. I'm still pretty sore about that. But what hurt me most was that you sacrificed your opportunity to be somebody in the world, to be a noble, useful woman. You linked yourself for life to a slinking, scoundrelly thief!"

Sally laughed mockingly. Then, her hands on her hips, she regarded him pityingly.

"You poor goose! You sure didn't get my number right! If you thought I was going to be tied up for the rest of my days with a miserable little wretch like Pete Barney you certainly had me wrong. I just had to turn a few handsprings, and you needn't tell me how disgusted you are when I say that all I wanted was to know how it feels to lie and steal."

"Yes; you stole some money from your father; that was very wrong, Sally."

"Say, you make me tired! What I borrowed from pop I'll pay back. The low-down thing I did was to take that string of diamonds away from Barney. He slipped 'em to me that night as we were on the way to the preacher's to get married. Married! Do you think I really wanted to marry that man! Do you think I am married to him now? Why, I gave him the slip at the first station after I kissed you good-by and I haven't seen him since. And I never intend to see him again! I ducked round till I got to a place on the underground railroad I knew about from pop; and they took good care of me. Then I slid to Petoskey where the Learys were starting up their refreshment shop and was just learning how to make soft drinks look wicked when the Governor jerked a wire to Red and that grand old girl his wife to come here and open up this moldy old joint. My folks know where I am now and as soon as they coax me a little I'll go home and be a nice little girl for the rest of my life."

"But the diamonds—"

"Don't be so tragic or I'll burst out crying! I've got the sparklers hidden safe; and I'm going to get the Governor to help make a deal to give 'em back to the owner if he won't prosecute Barney. I wouldn't want that man, even if he's only my husband on paper, to go over the road on my account. I'm satisfied with my kick-up and you needn't be afraid I'll break any more Commandments."

"Where's Barney now?" demanded Archie suspiciously.

"In jail in Buffalo, if you must know! They pinched him on an old case, so you needn't blame me. I tell you I'm clear done with him. Love that worm! He just gave me an excuse to let my blacksheep blood ripple a little and it's all over now. And I'm sorry I played you for a sucker; honest I am. You gave me a lot of money for a wedding present and as the wedding doesn't count I'm going to