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FINDING THE LOST TREASURE, by Helen M. Persons [Part 1]

CHAPTER I

A MYSTERIOUS PAPER

“W-1755-15x12-6754,” read Desiré slowly. “What does it mean?”

“What does what mean, Dissy?” asked her younger sister, who was rolling a ball across the floor to little René.

“Just some figures on an old paper I found, dear. I must tell Jack about them. Do you know where he is?”

“Out there somewhere, I guess,” replied the child, with a vague gesture indicating the front yard.

Desiré flung back her short dark curls and crossed the room to a window where sturdy geraniums raised their scarlet clusters to the very top of the panes. It was the custom in that part of Nova Scotia to make a regular screen of blossoming plants in all front windows, sometimes even in those of the cellar. Peering between two thick stems, she could see her older brother sitting on the doorstep, gazing out across St. Mary’s Bay which lay like a blue, blue flag along the shore.

Crossing the narrow hall and opening the outside door, Desiré dropped down beside the boy and thrust a time-yellowed slip of paper into his hands.

“Did you ever see this?”

“Yes,” he replied slowly. “A few days before he died, nôtre père went over the contents of his tin box with me to make sure that I understood all about the bills, and the mortgage on the farm and—”

“Mortgage!” exclaimed Desiré in shocked tones. “I never knew we had one.”

“I, either, until that day. You see nôtre mère was sick so long that all our little savings were used up, and ready money was an absolute necessity.”

“And what did he tell you about this?” continued the girl, after a thoughtful pause, running her finger along the line of tantalizing characters.

“Nothing very definite. He said it was a memorandum of some kind that had been handed down in our family for generations. The name of its writer, and its meaning, have been lost in the past; but each father passed it on to his eldest son, with a warning to preserve it most carefully, for it was valuable.”

“And now it belongs to you,” concluded Desiré, half sadly, half proudly.

Jack nodded, and for several moments neither spoke.

John Wistmore, aged 18, Desiré, 14, Priscilla, 9, and René, 5, were direct descendants of John Alden and Priscilla Mullins, whose story the poet Longfellow tells in The Courtship of Miles Standish.

The little town of Sissiboo, an Indian corruption of Six Hiboux1where they lived, is one of those settled by the Acadians upon their return to the land of their birth some years after the expulsion. So closely, so ramblingly are the villages strung along the shores of St. Mary’s Bay on the northwest coast of Nova Scotia that it is hard to tell where one ends and the next begins. Their inhabitants live exactly as did their ancestors, speaking French and preserving with care all the old habits and customs.

The lives of the children had been simple, happy ones, until the recent death of their father and mother, hardly three months apart. John Wistmore, in whose veins flowed the blood of men of culture and ambition, had been anxious to give his children greater educational advantages than Sissiboo afforded. Jack, therefore, had been sent to Wolfville to school, and was now ready for college; while Desiré was looking forward to high school in the autumn. Now all was changed. Without relatives, without money, and without prospects, they faced the problem of supporting the two younger children and themselves.

“Where did you find this?” asked Jack, rousing himself.

“On the floor in front of the cupboard.”

“It must have slipped from the box when I took out the mortgage. I went over it with Nicolas Bouchard this morning.”

“Oh, does he hold it?”

“Yes—and—”

“He wants his money?”

Jack nodded.

“But what can we do? We can’t possibly pay him.”

“Nothing, I guess, dear, except let him foreclose.”

“Would we get any money at all, then?”

“Very little. Not enough to live on, certainly.”

“I wish I knew what these mean,” she sighed wistfully, touching the paper still between her brother’s fingers. “If we could only find out, maybe we’d get enough money to pay Nicolas.”

Jack laughed in spite of his anxiety. “I’m afraid we’d all starve before they could be interpreted. Too bad, as things have gone, that I didn’t farm as soon as I was old enough—”

“Don’t say that! We’ll hope and plan for your college course—”

“Desiré, dear,” protested her brother, gently but firmly, “it is absolutely out of the question, even to think of such a thing.”

“But, Jack, every one should have some special goal in life, as an incentive if nothing else; and I’m not going to give up planning for our education. One never knows when good fortune is waiting just around the next corner to complete one’s own efforts.”

“I guess our goal will be to provide food and clothing for the children. I’m afraid it will be a hard pull for you and me to keep the family together—”

“Oh, but we must stay together, Jack,” she cried, grasping his arm.

“As far as I can see,” he continued slowly, “the only thing to be done is to move to Halifax or Yarmouth, where I could get work of some kind. Should you mind very much?”

“Whatever you decide, I’ll be willing to do,” replied the girl bravely.

“If it will make you any happier,” continued Jack, giving her one of his grave, sweet smiles, “we’ll place higher education among our day dreams.”

“If you folks ain’t hungry, we are!” announced Priscilla, opening the door behind them so suddenly that both jumped.

“You see?” laughed Jack, as he pulled Desiré up from the low step.

“I’ve just had a wonderful inspiration though,” she whispered as they entered the hall.

CHAPTER II

DESIRÉ’S INSPIRATIONS

It was a quaint old room in which they settled down after supper had been eaten and the children put to bed. The woodwork was painted a deep blue, known as Acadian blue, and the floor was bare except for a couple of oval braided rugs in which the same color predominated. In the center of the room stood a hutch table, one that can be changed to a chest by reversing its hinged top. Around it were half a dozen high-backed chairs, their seats made of strips of deerskin woven in and out like the paper mats made in kindergartens. A spinning wheel stood beside the fireplace, before which sat Jack and Desiré, with no other light except that of the dancing flames.

“Now Dissy,” said the boy, laying his hand affectionately over hers, “let’s have the inspiration.”

“It’s this: that we stay on here as tenants. Nicolas can’t live in this house and his own too!”

“But one trouble with that plan is that Nicolas wants to sell the property and get his money out.”

“Who’d buy it? Nobody ever moves into or out of this town.”

“He has a customer now. André Comeau’s prospective father-in-law wants to move here after the wedding. He can’t bear to have Marie live so far away from him. Sorry to spoil your inspiration, dear.”

Desiré made no reply; for she was very close to tears, and she hated to act like a baby instead of the good pal her brother had always called her.

“We’re going to work on André’s house again tomorrow,” observed Jack presently. “The roof’s on, the floors laid, and by Saturday we should be able to start the barn.”

In New Acadia all the relatives, friends, and neighbors of a man who is about to be married join in building a new house for him. They clear a piece of land, haul materials, and labor for weeks on the construction of house, barn, and sheds. When these are finished, the garden is prepared, the fields ploughed and planted, and the buildings furnished. The bride-to-be contributes linens, and her people stock the farm with animals. Some morning the whole countryside walks to church to see the couple wedded, returning to the home of the bride’s mother, where the day is spent in feasting and merry-making. If the groom can afford it, he then takes his bride to Yarmouth to spend a few days at the Grand Hotel. That is the greatest ambition of every rustic pair.

Jack talked on quietly about the house raising until he saw that his sister had recovered her composure. She was smiling bravely as he kissed her goodnight, but her sleep was broken by feverish dreams of the worn slip of paper, and a long journey.

When Jack returned at dusk the following evening, after a long day’s work on André’s house, he found Desiré waiting for him with sparkling eyes, flushed face, and such an air of repressed excitement that he wondered what had happened while he had been away.

It was necessary to wait until the children had gone to bed before he could question her. They had decided it was best to leave the younger ones out of discussions of ways and means. “Let them be carefree as long as they can,” Desiré had urged, and Jack had agreed.

“Who do you suppose was here today?” she asked, perching on the arm of his chair as soon as they were alone.

“Never could guess,” he replied, slipping his arm around her.

“Old Simon.”

“Starting his spring trip early, isn’t he?”

“Rather. I made him stay to dinner, and we talked and talked.”

Simon drove one of the big covered wagons which are common in Nova Scotia. They have double doors at the back, and are filled with all kinds of groceries and notions, a regular general store on wheels. Many parts of the country are so thinly settled that it would be impossible for people to obtain certain supplies without the existence of these interesting wagons. Some of them specialize in certain things, like ready-to-wear clothing, but most of them carry a little of everything.

“Did he have anything interesting to tell?”

The proprietors of these odd stores act as relayers of bits of news, as well as merchandise, and often bear messages from one part of the peninsula to the other.

“Why—why—I don’t—really know,” faltered Desiré.

“Don’t know?” repeated her brother, turning to look at her in surprise; for although she dearly loved her home, she was always eager for contacts with the outside world.

“Well, you see, we talked business all the time.”

“Business?” he queried, more and more puzzled.

“Yes. Oh, Jack, let us get a wagon!”

“Desiré, you must be crazy!” he exclaimed, startled out of his usual calm of manner and speech.

“No, I’m not really. Just listen a minute,” telling off the points on her fingers. “We’d be all together. We’d be earning an honest living, and having a lot of fun, and seeing places; and it’s healthful to be out-of-doors, a lot; and—” she paused for breath.

“But, Dissy,” protested her brother gently, “we couldn’t live in the wagon.”

“Oh, yes, we could.”

“All of us? Day and night?” asked the boy, troubled at this odd notion that had evidently so strongly taken possession of his hitherto sensible sister.

“We could have a little tent for you and René at night. Prissy and I could easily sleep in the wagon. It would be no different from camping, Jack; and lots of people do that.”

“What about winter?”

“Well, of course we couldn’t live that way after it gets real cold, but winter’s a long way off. Maybe we’d make enough by then to rent a couple of rooms in some central place and take just day trips. Or perhaps we’ll find out what that paper means, and have—who knows what?”

Jack shook his head.

“Seriously, Desiré, I don’t see how we can make a living from a traveling store. Simon does, of course; but there is only one of him, and four of us.”

“But,” resumed the girl, after a short pause, “we have no place to go if Nicolas forecloses; we don’t know how else to support ourselves; so wouldn’t traveling around the country all summer give us a chance to see all kinds of places and people? Mightn’t we get in touch with possibilities for the future? Our living expenses would be small; for we could gather wild things to eat—”

“A few bears, or owls, I suppose,” laughed her brother.

“No, silly! Berries, and—and grapes, and things.”

“Heavy diet.”

“And fish,” concluded Desiré triumphantly.

“Another thing,” continued Jack, resuming his gravity, “you wouldn’t want to spoil old Simon’s route by taking some of his customers.”

“Of course not, but there certainly must be sections where there is no traveling store. We could take one of those.”

Just then a heavy knock on the front door startled them both.

CHAPTER III

TWO CALLERS

When Jack opened the door, Nicolas Bouchard stood frowning before him.

“Oh, come in, Nicolas,” he urged hospitably.

“Can’t; it’s too late; but saw you were still up, and wanted to tell you that I just had a message from Yves and he wants to take possession of this place at once. Think you could be out by this day week?”

“How do you know we aren’t going to pay off the mortgage?” flashed Desiré, annoyed at the man for taking things so for granted.

Nicolas gave a grunt. “What with? Don’t get mad. We all know you haven’t got any money. Glad to have you pay if you could, for you’ve always been good neighbors; but a man’s got to take care of his pennies. They’re not so plentiful now as they were when I took that mortgage.”

“Certainly, Nicolas,” said Jack, quietly laying a restraining hand on Desiré’s arm. “You may have the house a week from today.”

The man lingered rather awkwardly.

“Felice said she’d be willing to keep the two little ones, so as you and this girl could go to Boston, and find work—”

Desiré started to speak, but Jack’s hold on her arm tightened.

“They pay good wages there, I’m told,” the man went on. “Or, if you could find some place for the rest, Yves said he’d be glad to have you stay on here and help him farm.”

“We are indeed grateful for the kindness of our friends,” replied Jack; “but we have decided that we must all stick together, some way.”

Nicolas turned without another word, and strode down the shell-bordered path to the road, and Jack closed the door. In silent dismay the brother and sister faced each other; then the girl’s courage reasserted itself.

“Never mind, dear,” she cried, putting both arms around him. “We’ll surely find something. As nôtre mère used to say so often, ‘let’s sleep on it.’ Things always look lots brighter in the morning.”

“You’re such a good little pal, Dissy. We’ll say an extra prayer tonight for help, and tomorrow we’ll try to decide upon something definite.”

Late the following afternoon Desiré stood on the doorstep, watching Priscilla hopping down the dusty road to see a little friend. Early that morning Jack had gone to Meteghan to settle up affairs with Nicolas and Yves, and, to please Desiré, to price an outfit for a traveling store. The sisters, greatly hindered by René, had spent the day going over keepsakes and household belongings of all kinds, trying to decide what they would keep and what they must dispose of.

“Are you going to sell all our things, Dissy? Even Mother’s chair?”

“I’m afraid so, dear. You see we can’t carry furniture around with us when we don’t know where or how we are going to live. You have her little silver locket for a keepsake, and I have her prayerbook. We really don’t need anything to remember her by.”

“No; and Jack has nôtre père’s watch. But, oh, I—I wish we weren’t going. I’m sort of afraid!”

“Afraid!” chided Desiré, although her own heart was filled with the nameless dread which often accompanies a contemplated change. “With dear old Jack to take care of us? I’m ashamed of you! We’re going to have just lots of good times together. Try not to let Jack know that you mind. Remember, Prissy, it’s far harder on him to be obliged to give up all his own plans and hopes to take care of us, than it is for you and me to make some little sacrifices and pretend we like them.”

“Ye-es,” agreed Priscilla slowly, trying to measure up to what was expected of her.

“What’s the matter with Prissy?” demanded René, deserting his play and coming to stand in front of them. “Has she got a pain?”

“A kind of one,” replied Desiré gently, “but it’s getting better now; so go on with what you were doing, darling.”

The child returned to the corner of the room where he had been making a wagon from spools and a pasteboard box, while Priscilla murmured, “I’ll try not to fuss about things.”

“That’s a brave girl,” commended her sister. “Now, you’ve been in all day; so suppose you run down to see Felice for a little while. Maybe you’ll meet Jack on the way home, but don’t wait for him later than half past five.”

The little girl was almost out of sight when Desiré’s attention was diverted to the opposite direction by the sound of an automobile, apparently coming from Digby. Motor cars were still sufficiently new in Nova Scotia to excuse her waiting to see it pass. Only the well-to-do people owned them, and she had never even had a ride in one. There were rumors that possibly that very summer a bus line would be run to the various interesting parts of the country for the convenience of tourists from the States. Then she might be able to ride a little way, if it didn’t cost too much, just to see how it felt.

A ramshackle Ford jerked to a sudden halt right in front of the house, and a tall, thin man backed carefully out from the driver’s seat and ambled up the path toward her.

“Mademoiselle Wistmore?” he inquired, bashfully removing his blue woolen cap and thrusting it under his arm.

“Oui, Monsieur.”

“My name’s Pierre Boisdeau,” he drawled, taking the cap out from under his arm and rolling it nervously between his two big hands.

“Yes?” replied Desiré encouragingly.

“I have a message for you,” pushing the long-suffering cap into his pocket as he spoke.

The girl seated herself upon the broad stone step, and with a gesture invited the stranger to do the same; but he merely placed one foot upon the scraper beside the step, and began in halting embarrassed fashion to deliver his message.

After he had gone, Desiré fairly raced through preparations for supper; then went to look up the road again. If Jack would only come! René trudged around from the back of the house where he had been playing, and announced that he was hungry; so she took him in, gave him his supper, and put him to bed. Before she had finished, Priscilla returned.

“Jack must have been delayed somewhere. We might as well eat, and I’ll get his supper when he comes,” decided the older girl.

While they ate, Priscilla chattered on and on about her playmates, while Desiré said “Yes” and “No” rather absent-mindedly. Where could Jack be?

“I’m going to bed,” yawned Priscilla, about seven o’clock. “We ran so much, I’m tired.”

“All right, dear.”

“Where are you going?” inquired the child, stopping on the stairs as she caught sight of her sister throwing a shawl around her shoulders.

“Only out to the road to watch for Jack.”

“You won’t go any farther, and leave us?”

“Of course not. Have I ever left you alone at night?”

“No-o-o.”

“Run along to bed then,” reaching up to pat the brown hand which grasped the stair railing.

What was keeping Jack?

For half an hour Desiré shifted her weight from one foot to the other, watching the darkening road. As soon as she spied his tall form, she ran to meet him and fell into step at his side.

“You must be nearly starved, dear,” she began.

“Not a bit. I happened to be at Henry Simard’s at about supper time, and nothing would do but I must stay and eat with them. I hope you weren’t worried,” looking down at Desiré anxiously.

“I tried not to be; for I thought perhaps you had gone farther than you intended.”

“Nicolas was ready when I got to his house, and Yves met us in Meteghan; so we fixed everything up successfully. The money which came to us I put into the bank for emergencies; for—I’m awfully sorry to have to tell you—there isn’t enough to buy and stock up a wagon, even if we decided to adopt that way of living. So I looked around a bit for some kind of a job.”

“Did you find anything?” asked Desiré, a bit breathlessly.

“Not yet; but I shall. We could—”

“Now that I’ve heard your news,” interrupted the girl eagerly, “just listen to mine. A man named Pierre Boisdeau came in an auto from Digby this afternoon with a message for us. Oh, Jack, the most wonderful thing! When he took some salmon down to Yarmouth the other day, they told him at the docks that old Simon had sent word to be sure to have anyone from up this way go to see him. So he went, and found the poor old man all crippled up with rheumatism. He will have to stay at his daughter’s house all summer. So he won’t be able to peddle. And Jack! He wants us to take his wagon! Isn’t that just glorious? He said that if we won’t take it and keep the route for him until he is well again, he’ll likely have to sell out. He doesn’t want to do that. Isn’t it just providential? This will give us a chance to try the experiment without much expense, and will provide for us for several months.”

“We are indeed very fortunate,” replied Jack gravely. “We could hardly take such an offer from anyone else, but Simon is such an old friend that he would feel hurt if we refused. As you say, it will give us a chance to find a place to settle in permanently. In the meantime, we shall be holding the route for him.”

They entered the house and dropped down beside the table, still covered with dishes, to finish their talk.

“Simon wants an answer as soon as possible; for he hates to think of all his customers being deserted for so long. You’d better write to him tonight.”

“I wonder,” said Jack slowly, after a few minutes’ consideration during which his sister scanned his serious, thoughtful face rather anxiously. “I wonder if it would be better for me to go down alone to get the wagon and pick you up on the way back; or, for all of us to ride to Yarmouth on the train, and start the route from there. Which should you like better?”

“To go to Yarmouth, of course; but won’t it cost a lot more?”

“Some, but—”

“I can prepare enough food for us to carry two meals, and there must be some place where we could camp just outside of the city.”

“Anxious to get started?”

“Yes. I hate goodbyes. I’d like to steal out right away, without anybody knowing it.”

“I’m afraid you can’t leave our good neighbors like that. They have known us all our lives; and think how hurt they would feel.”

“I suppose so; but they all want us to do something different, and criticize nôtre père for trying to educate us.”

“They don’t understand, but they mean well and have been very kind to us.”

“I know, and I do appreciate it; but—couldn’t we start soon?”

“Day after tomorrow, I should think. I’m afraid one trunk and the box in the store room will be all we can take on our travels. Shall you be able to manage that way?”

“I’ll try to; but what shall I do with the furniture?”

“Give it away, or leave it for Yves. We’ll just have to stifle all sentimental affection for our household gods.”

“We’ll have a house of our own again some day, and get new household gods.”

* * * *

Intense excitement prevailed in the Clare District on Wednesday afternoon. Little groups of women and children were hurrying along the dusty road. On every doorstep a man or woman too old, or a child too young, to join the procession was sitting waiting to wave farewell to the travelers when they passed. These good people were much disturbed at the departure of the little Wistmore family. It was almost unheard of for any of the Acadian families voluntarily to leave that peaceful section and wander among strangers in unfamiliar parts of the country. Occasionally, within their knowledge, an individual or two had decided to seek his fortune elsewhere; but never before a whole family, and the Wistmores at that! The neighbors had done their best, one and all, to dissuade the children from following such a course; but since their words of advice and warning had proved of no avail, they were now on their way, bearing little gifts of good will, to bid the adventurers Godspeed.

When Jack drove up with André Comeau who was going to take them to the station, three miles away, the yard was filled with little groups of neighbors; and inside the house still others were saying their reluctant farewells. Shaking the hands held out to him on every side, Jack gently pushed through the crowd; and, with André’s help, loaded their one trunk and box onto the wagon. Then he detached Desiré and the children from the weeping women, and helped them up to the seats which had been made of rough planks laid across the wagon box. The crowd drew back, and amid a chorus of “Bon jour!” “Au revoir!” the travelers started on their journey.

Desiré and Priscilla, with tears rolling down their faces, waved as long as they could see their old friends, and answered salutations from many a doorstep; but Jack, with set face, did not look back at all. Even René was unusually quiet, hardly knowing what to make of it all. The train pulled into the tiny station just as they reached the platform, and there was no time to be lost. Before the children, to whom a railroad was a novelty, had time hardly to glance at the long train, its freight cars placed ahead of the coaches, as is common in Nova Scotia, they were hustled on board, the bell rang, and they were off.

CHAPTER IV

OUT TO SEA

The little party was very quiet during the ride, which took two hours. The older members were occupied with their own thoughts, very serious ones, and the young pair engrossed in looking out of the window.

Rolling rocky land; woods where sombre and stately pines and firs made a fitting background for the graceful slender white trunks of the birch trees; miles of ferns close to the tracks; tiny stations; glimpses, between the trees, of rustic dwellings and a few more pretentious summer homes; flashes of wild flowers; rivers, down whose red mud banks still trickled threads of water, although the tide was out; grey farm buildings; all flowed rapidly past. Then—Yarmouth!

“Stay right here,” directed Jack, after they had alighted from the train, leading the way to a pile of crates on the platform, “until I check our baggage. I thought we’d keep only the night bag, and pick up the rest after we get the wagon.”

Before the children had tired of watching the passers-by, he was back again, and they walked slowly toward the centre of the city, not pausing until they reached the tiny park facing the wharf.

“You and the children had better sit here while I go to find out the location of the street where Simon’s daughter lives.”

“Is that the Grand Hotel, where André brought Marie after the wedding?” asked Priscilla, looking up in admiration at the big building across the street.

“Yes,” replied Jack.

“Just think!” cried the child ecstatically, giving a little skip, “I’m really looking at the place I’ve heard of so many times.”

“Well, your education has begun,” said Jack. “See that you make the most of all your opportunities.”

“What a very funny place,” observed Priscilla, looking around her.

“It is a park—” began Desiré.

“But look at those,” interrupted the younger girl, pointing to several graves.

“It must have been used as a cemetery first,” replied her sister, walking over to read the inscription on a nearby stone, and closely followed by Priscilla. That moment or two gave René the chance for which he had longed, and he was off down the road and onto the wharf. Desiré turned to look for him just in time to see a little blue-clad figure dart across the gang plank of the Boston steamer.

“René!” she called in desperation, racing toward the dock.

The tug which helped the steamer pull away from her slip was already out in the harbor; bells were ringing, the whistle was blowing, dock hands were running about. Across the gang plank ran Desiré and Priscilla just before it was withdrawn, and the ropes were cast off. As they looked helplessly among the crowds of people and piles of luggage for the truant, the tug was steadily pulling on the long tow line, and heading the steamer out to sea.

“My—little—brother,” gasped Desiré to an officer.

“What about him?” demanded the busy man curtly.

His brisk manner was just enough, in her distressed state of mind, to reduce the girl immediately to tears.

“He got away from us and is on this boat. That’s what’s about him,” said Priscilla, coming at once to her sister’s aid. “Don’t mind, Dissy; we’ll find him.”

An interested spectator of the scene, a tall, energetic type of woman, now joined the group.

“Let me help you look for him, my dear,” she said briskly, putting a hand on Desiré’s shoulder. “No need to worry; he’s certainly safe.”

“But,” choked the girl, now fully conscious that the boat was moving, “we can’t go on. My big brother is waiting for us in Yarmouth! What—what will he think? What will he do?” She wrung her hands distractedly.

“You could go back on the tug, if the boy’s found before she leaves us,” suggested the officer, coming to the rescue as soon as he fully understood the situation.

“There he is!” shrieked Priscilla, darting to the side of the boat where René was climbing up on a suitcase to look over the railing at the water. Grasping him firmly by the tail of his jacket, she dragged him backward across the salon, and brought him to a violent sitting posture at Desiré’s feet.

Meanwhile the officer had ordered the tug to be signalled, and she now came alongside. No time for anything but hurried thanks to their benefactors as the girls and René were helped over the side and onto the tug. Noisily, fussily, she steamed away from the big boat, over whose rails hung the interested passengers, and headed to Yarmouth.

“What ever made you do such a naughty thing, René?” asked Desiré, who had recovered her outward composure.

“Wanted to see big boat,” replied the child, not at all impressed by the gravity of his offense. Useless to say more now.

“The young feller needs a good whaling,” growled the pilot of the tug, as he brought his boat alongside the wharf.

“There’s Jack!” cried Desiré, in great relief, catching sight of him striding rapidly along the street above the docks. “Jump out, quickly, Prissy! Run up and tell him we’re all right.”

The child sprang to the dock and ran up the incline at top speed, while Desiré lingered to thank the pilot.

“Glad to do it, ma’moiselle. Better keep hold of him hereafter, though.”

“I shall,” she promised, with a reproachful look at René.

The reunited family met in the little park, and sat down on one of the benches to readjust themselves.

“I’m so sorry, dear,” said Desiré, putting her hand in Jack’s. “You must have been frantic.”

“I couldn’t believe my eyes when I came back and found that you had all disappeared. An old dock hand who saw me looking around said he’d seen a boy, followed by two girls, go aboard the ‘Yarmouth.’ So, knowing René, I came to a close solution of the mystery. I was just going up to the steamship office to see what could be done when Prissy grabbed me from behind.

“René,” he went on, placing the child directly in front of him so he could look into his eyes, “you have been a very bad boy; and only the fact that we are out here in a public place prevents me from putting you right across my knee, and giving you something to make you remember your naughtiness. There is to be no more running away. Do you understand me?”

The little boy, wiggling slightly as if he already felt the punishment, nodded gravely, impressed by his brother’s stern face and voice.

“What did you find out, Jack?” asked Desiré, when he had released René.

“They told me,” he began, turning toward her, “that Simon lives on a street not so very far from here. I thought if you’re ready, we might walk down there; and perhaps he’d be able to tell us where we could spend the night.”

“Aren’t we going to the hotel?” inquired Priscilla, her face clouding.

“No; we haven’t enough money to stay there,” answered Jack, starting ahead with René.

The little girl pouted, and shed a few quiet tears to which Desiré wisely paid no attention. Slowly they strolled along the main street, pausing to look in the window of a stationer’s where the books and English magazines attracted Desiré’s eye; stopping to gaze admiringly at the jewelry, china, pictures, and souvenirs attractively displayed in another shop.

“Just see the lovely purple stones!” cried Priscilla, who had recovered her good humor.

“Those are amethysts,” explained Jack. “They come from Cape Blomidon,” adding to Desiré, “I heard that another vein split open this year.”

“Isn’t it strange that the intense cold nearly every winter brings more of the beautiful jewels to light?” commented the girl.

“A kind of rough treatment which results in profit and beauty,” mused Jack.

“Yes; and, Jack, maybe it will be like that with us. Things are hard now, but perhaps soon we’ll find—”

“Some am’thysts?” asked René excitedly.

“Perhaps,” replied Jack, giving Desiré one of his rare sweet smiles.

The stores had been left behind now, and on every hand were green tree-shaded lawns enclosed by carefully trimmed hedges of English hawthorne in full bloom. Desiré exclaimed with rapture over their beauty, and the size and style of the houses beyond them. On a little side street they paused before a small cottage, half hidden in vines.

“This must be the place,” decided Jack, opening the white gate which squeaked loudly as if protesting against the entrance of strangers. The sound brought a woman to the door.

“I’m looking for Simon Denard,” began Jack.

“You’ve come to the right place to find him,” she replied, smiling, as she came toward them and put out one hand to pat René’s head. “Simon Denard is my father. I’m Mrs. Chaisson. Come right in.”

In the small living room to which she led them sat old Simon, propped up with pillows in a big chair.

“So here ye are,” was his greeting, as the children dashed across the floor to his side.

“Be careful,” warned Desiré quickly. “You might hurt Simon.”

“Let ’em be! Let ’em be!” protested the old man, beaming upon his visitors. “What’s an extra stab of pain, or two?”

“Father has told me about you people so often that I feel as if I knew you,” Mrs. Chaisson was saying to Jack, after he introduced Desiré and the children; “so I want you to stay here as long as you’re in town; that is, if you haven’t made other plans.”

The expression on her kindly face indicated clearly that she hoped they hadn’t.

“But there are so many of us,” objected the boy.

“It’s perfectly all right, if you don’t mind kind of camping out a bit.”

“That’s what we expect to do all summer,” said Desiré; “and we’ll surely be glad of any arrangements you make for us, as long as we don’t put you about too much. You are very kind indeed.”

“Then it’s all settled,” said their hostess briskly; “I’ll get supper right away; for you must be hungry.”

The cottage boasted of a living room, dining room, kitchen, and two small bedrooms; so stowing away four extra people was something of an achievement. Immediately after they had finished the simple but delicious meal that Mrs. Chaisson prepared, Desiré shyly offered to help her hostess in preparation for the night.

“Thank you, my dear; if you will clear up the supper table and do the dishes while I hunt up some bedding, it will be very nice.”

“Please don’t trouble yourself about me,” said Jack, detaining Mrs. Chaisson on one of her many trips through the room; “I can sleep on the porch, or anywhere.”

“I’ll fix some place for you,” she replied, putting her hand on his shoulder. “Just go on with your business arrangements.” He and Simon had been discussing the route, customers, stock, and other details.

Like so many childless women, Mrs. Chaisson had a passion for children; and the thoughts of this little family starting out so bravely in search of a living moved her strongly.

“How I wish I could adopt them all,” she thought as she hurried on. “If only we had a little more money; but then, there’s Father, too, now; it couldn’t be done, even with the help of that fine big boy. I don’t wonder that his sister almost worships him.”

Nine o’clock saw them all settled for a good sleep. Old Simon in his own room, Mrs. Chaisson sharing hers with Priscilla, Desiré on the couch in the living room, and Jack and René in hammocks on the screened porch. It had been decided before they slept that as soon as breakfast was over, they would start out upon the great adventure.

“There is no use in hanging around here,” Jack had said to Desiré in their goodnight talk on the front steps.

“Wouldn’t it seem rather odd, or ungrateful, to hurry away so soon?” suggested the girl. “Mrs. Chaisson has been so very good to us.”

“I know that,” replied Jack quickly; “and for that very reason, we can’t take advantage of her. Then too, the longer we stay, the harder it will be for both sides when we do go.”

The boy had immediately sensed the good woman’s distress over their undertaking, and felt that the kindest act would be their immediate departure.

“Of course I realize,” he went on, “that it’s nice for you to have a little rest, and a woman’s companionship; but—”

“Don’t worry over me, Jack dear,” replied his sister, slipping her hand into his. “Whatever you decide is all right. So we’ll all be ready early in the morning.”

“You’re a good little soul,” answered Jack, with an affectionate goodnight kiss. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Completely happy at his words of commendation, Desiré entered the house; and soon everyone was fast asleep. Shortly after midnight, she was suddenly awakened by the sound of a screen door closing, and steps crossing the porch.

CHAPTER V

A MIDNIGHT WALK

The thought that perhaps Jack was ill immediately flashed across Desiré’s mind. Throwing on a kimono, she hurried to the door. Down the walk which led to the street, through the gate which had been left part way open, and along the road walked—Priscilla!

No mistaking, even in the shadows, that plump childish form. Where was she going? Without stopping to do more than catch up the child’s coat, and her own which hung beside the door, Desiré followed her. Not wanting to call lest she should waken the neighborhood, she had to run to catch up to her sister; for Priscilla had quickened her pace as she approached the end of the road and turned onto the main street. Coming abreast with her at last, Desiré took the child’s arm; and, stooping to look at her face, was startled to see that her eyes, though open, were unseeing. Shaking with fright, Desiré asked softly—

“Where are you going, Prissy?”

“To the Grand Hotel,” was the prompt and surprising reply.

“But, darling,” protested the older girl, “it’s night, and everybody is in bed and asleep.”

“I’m going to sleep there. I’ve always wanted to.”

Then Desiré realized in a flash that Priscilla must be walking in her sleep. She remembered now that Mother had once spoken of her doing it when she was a very little girl and had become greatly excited over something. The splendors of the hotel must have been on her mind as she went to sleep.

How to get the child back without arousing her was a problem; she had heard that sleepwalkers must not be wakened suddenly.

“Well, dear,” she said quietly, “it’s getting cool. Let’s put on our coats before we go any farther.”

Priscilla stopped obediently, and, after both girls had put on their coats, Desiré took the little girl’s arm and turned her gently around, beginning a low monologue as she did so.

“You’re going in the wrong direction; we must go this way. Soon we’ll be there. Just down this street. We must be very quiet so no one will hear us. Step softly. Quiet!”

Leading, coaxing, hushing, Desiré finally got her sister into the house without waking any one, and settled her upon the living-room couch; for she dared not trust her out of her sight again that night.

“Now you’re all right,” she whispered, removing the child’s coat. “Isn’t that a lovely bed?”

“Yes,” breathed Priscilla, curling up under the blanket.

Noiselessly Desiré drew a big rocking chair close to her sister’s side, propped her feet up on the edge of the couch, and with the two coats spread over her, prepared to spend the rest of the night. No one must know of this escapade. Mrs. Chaisson would be distressed at not having awakened; Jack would be disturbed at having slept so soundly, and perhaps disapprove of her not calling him; and old Simon would be troubled by the idea of what might have happened. Also, Priscilla would probably be made nervous. Too excited to sleep, she dozed, dreamed, started, and wakened again until the first far-away call of a robin pierced the faint grey dawn. Immediately one in a tree beside the cottage answered; then a cock crowed; a song sparrow began its short sweet strains; and the day of the great adventure had really begun.

“Prissy,” she whispered, a little later, bending over the child.

The blue eyes opened lazily.

“Let’s get dressed, Prissy, and surprise Mrs. Chaisson by having the table set and things started before she wakens.”

“All right,” agreed the little girl, sitting up; “but—but—how did I get here?”

“You were rather restless; so I brought you out here with me—” began Desiré.

“And you slept in the chair! Oh, you must be so tired, Dissy. Why did you do it?”

“I’m all right, dear. Never mind about it. Don’t say anything of it to any one!”

“Why?” asked Priscilla, wondering at her sister’s earnestness.

“Because Jack might be afraid I was too tired to start out today, and—”

“Oh, are we really going this morning?” demanded Priscilla, her mind immediately occupied with the exciting prospect.

“Yes; and it’s going to be a glorious day.”

The sound of their voices roused the others; and while breakfast was being prepared, and the house set in order—for Desiré would not leave their hostess any extra work—Jack got the team and wagon ready for departure. At nine o’clock, after reluctant and affectionate farewells had been exchanged, Jack gathered up the reins. Beside him sat Desiré, and directly back of them on little stools were Priscilla and René.

“Now, remember,” repeated Mrs. Chaisson, handing a lunch basket to Desiré, “that this is your home whenever you are in Yarmouth, or any other time you need one. And whenever you can, let me hear how you’re getting on. We’ll be thinking of you all the time.”

“Thank you,” said Desiré, kissing Mrs. Chaisson affectionately, and adding for the tenth time—“You’ve been so very good to us.”

“We shall never forget it,” said Jack, tightening the reins; and Dolly and Dapple, moving away from the gate, put an end to the farewells.

No one saw, hidden away among the maple saplings, scrub pine, and underbrush which covered the field beside the house, the bulky figure of a man. Neither did they hear softly muttered words of anger and revenge.

After they had left Yarmouth behind and were jogging along the road back over the same route they had covered on the train the day before, Desiré turned sidewise in the seat to inspect once more the interior of their “store.” At the back was their trunk, and next to it their box; and on either side, reaching to the very top of the wagon, shelves tightly packed with jars, cans, rolls of material. The small tent which they had bought on their way out of town was laid along the floor at one side.

“I must get acquainted with all the stock,” she observed; “so I’ll be able quickly to find what people want.”

“The first time we stop, you can look things over,” replied Jack. “You’d lose your balance and be rolling out if you tried to do it while we’re moving.”

The younger ones laughed hilariously. They were in high spirits now, and even Jack felt a thrill of excitement under his sober, staid manner.

Up and down the long hills they drove, past numberless lakes and ponds, in and out of woods sweet with the odor of sun-warmed pine, and across rivers whose red mud flats made a vivid splash of color on the landscape.

“So many, many little bodies of water,” murmured Desiré.

“The ground is so uneven,” explained Jack, “that the water settles and forms lakes.”

“Why are the river banks so wide, and so very muddy?” asked Priscilla, leaning on the back of the seat.

“Out there,” answered Jack, waving his arm toward the West, “is the Bay of Fundy, a big, windy, rough body of water, an arm of the Atlantic Ocean. This bay has huge tides, rising in some places to a height of fifty or seventy feet. When the tide is high, the water rushes into all the rivers on this side of the country and fills them to overflowing; then all these banks are covered up. The tide comes twice a day; so you see the flats have no time to dry out.”

Through Brazil, Lake Annes, and Hectanooga they had passed without stopping, and then the children began to get hungry. Jack drew up to the side of the road in the open country, and stopped in the shade of a huge oak tree. There they ate the lunch which Mrs. Chaisson had put up for them, and rested a while, breathing in deep breaths of clover-scented air.

“See the chipmunk, René,” said Jack, pointing to a little animal who was regarding them doubtfully from the trunk of a nearby tree. “See the stripes along his back? Well, once upon a time, many years ago, a wonderful being called Glooscap lived up on Cape Blomidon. He was half god and half man, and tried to make Nova Scotia a very happy, safe place to live in. But there were wicked witches who lived here also, and they wanted to do all kinds of harm. The strongest of them was called Gamona, and any animal who was caught by her was killed or shut up in some cave or hole. One day little Charlie Chipmunk disobeyed his mother and went too far away from home. Suddenly, while he was nibbling at a most delicious nut, he felt himself picked up in terrible sharp claws. What was it his mother had told him to do if he ever got into danger? Alas! He couldn’t remember, and the creature, at whose face he dared not look, was carrying him away so, so fast! Some name he should call. Whose name? Like the lightning which sometimes made their hollow-tree home bright as day, it flashed into his mind.

“‘Glooscap!’ he squeaked.

“Such a tiny, trembling cry reached nowhere at all in that great big forest, yet Glooscap heard it and came to help the little fellow.

“‘Let my child go!’ he ordered, in a voice which, though not very loud, seemed to fill the whole land with its power.

“Gamona ground her teeth with anger. She knew she must obey, yet how she hated to let such a nice plump chipmunk go. Slowly she opened her hand just a little bit, then a little bit more; but the space was not quite wide enough for fat little Charlie. Her long sharp claws scraped his back as he wiggled out, and made long dark scratches. Ever since that day the chipmunk has worn those stripes down the middle of his back.”

“I c’n see ’em jes’ as plain,” observed René.

“Come on,” proposed Priscilla, “see if he’ll eat these crusts.”

“Shouldn’t we have stopped at some of the places we passed?” ventured Desiré, hesitatingly. She did not want to seem critical of Jack.

“Simon had no names on his list before Saulnierville; and I thought he probably knew the ropes better than we.”

“Shan’t we take on any new customers, then?” Desiré asked anxiously. She was so eager to make a huge success of this strange business.

“Surely, if we can; but the places we passed are so close to Yarmouth that I felt the city would get all their trade,” replied Jack, taking the huge red clover top that René had presented him, and sticking it in Desiré’s black curls. “I hope to get to Church Point in the morning.”

“Then we’d better get started now,” decided Desiré, getting up and shaking off the grass and leaves which the children had thrown upon her in their play.

None of them were accustomed to constant riding, and the afternoon seemed very long. The novelty of the situation and the scenery had worn off, and they were acutely conscious of cramped muscles.

“Can’t I get out and walk for a while?” asked Priscilla, as they approached Meteghan.

“I’d thought we’d stop up here on the main street for a while to see if anyone wants to buy anything,” said Jack, in reply to Desiré’s questioning look; “so if you will follow us carefully, you may get out here. But be sure to keep us in close sight, and don’t go wandering off.”

He stopped the horses, and Priscilla scrambled out amid clamors of René to go with her.

“No, Renny,” said Desiré, “you come and ride in front between Jack and me. Won’t that be fun?” pulling him across the back of the seat. But he continued to fret and cry until Jack said sternly:

“René, we’ve had enough of that. Stop it at once or go into the back of the wagon by yourself. You’re too big a boy to act like a baby.”

The child looked at his brother, and quickly recognizing the determination and force in the serious gaze bent upon him, set about controlling himself. Jack evidently meant business when he spoke in that tone. In their anxiety to compose René before they entered the town proper, they temporarily forgot about Priscilla. Like a flash, Desiré turned to look back.

“Jack!” she gasped, “I don’t see Prissy!”

The boy stopped the horses at once, and for a moment scanned the empty road in consternation.

CHAPTER VI

THE PIE SOCIAL

Turning the team, they started back. Dapple and Dolly lagged along, heads down; they were tired, and it was close to supper time.

Jack and Desiré peered into the bushes and trees on either side of the road for a glimpse of a red coat. Around a bend, among the trees far back from the road, they finally saw what they sought. Stopping the wagon, they watched for a moment to see what she was doing. Intently, apparently without thought of anything else, she was stealthily following a small black and white animal. Before they could shout a warning, she suddenly darted forward and seized the little creature. Out of her hands it twisted, filling the air with a strong, unpleasant odor; then it disappeared into the dense woods.

“Oh!” groaned Jack.

“Priscilla!” called Desiré sharply.

The child looked up, and began coming toward them.

“Stand right where you are,” directed Jack, when she reached the edge of the clearing. “Don’t come any nearer. What on earth possessed you to meddle with a wood pussy?”

“I—I thought it was a kitten,” faltered the little girl, thoroughly frightened.

“If you’d followed us closely, as Jack told you, you wouldn’t have gotten into trouble,” said Desiré severely. “What can we do with her, Jack?”

“I’ll get a pail of water from that pond, while you find fresh clothing; then I’ll carry the things over to the woods. She’ll have to go behind that clump of scrub pine and take off her clothing, make up the garments into a bundle, throw it as far into the woods as she can, then bathe and put on fresh things,” replied Jack, taking a pail and starting down the road toward a small, but deep, pool of water.

“I’ll go and help her,” said Desiré, when he returned.

“Stay right where you are,” he directed quietly but firmly. “She can manage perfectly well by herself.”

He crossed the road; and Desiré, though she could not quite distinguish the words, listened to the brief, curt orders he issued to the unfortunate little girl. Then he returned and stood leaning against the side of the wagon. René had dozed off, and Desiré laid him on the seat.

“This is one phase of our adventure that we did not consider,” began Jack, after a pause. His face looked more serious, even, than usual.

“What? Prissy getting mixed up with a wood pussy?” laughed Desiré.

“No. The problem of discipline. The free and lazy life is going to let the youngsters get a bit out of hand, I’m afraid.”

“René’s only a baby,” said Desiré reassuringly. “We should have no trouble managing him. Of course Priscilla is rather difficult at times; she goes from one extreme to another so quickly. You never know exactly what she will do next. At home, I sometimes sent her to bed; but that would be rather difficult in a wagon. But she’s a good little thing, and we’ll do the best we can. You mustn’t worry about it, Jack,” concluded Desiré, bending over to touch his thick brown curls.

He caught her hand in his and held it until Priscilla appeared from among the trees, freshly clothed, and swinging the empty pail in her hand.

Without a word Jack helped her into the wagon and they headed once more for the town. The sun had sunk below the horizon; the woods were getting dim; and the sky was a soft rose and gold when they entered Meteghan. Surely the whole population must be abroad, so filled were the streets with people all headed toward the church.

“What do you suppose is going on?” asked Desiré, viewing the scene rather wistfully.

“I don’t know,” replied Jack, pulling the wagon into a free space between two other vehicles. Almost immediately a tall, awkward youth sauntered over to them.

“Where’s old Simon?”

Jack explained, adding, “What’s doing here?”

“Pie social,” was the laconic reply. “Better go.”

“Where is it held?” asked Desiré, leaning out and smiling down into his keen grey eyes.

“Church basement; it’s for the benefit of the church. Costs you a pie to get in.”

At this point, a companion called to the boy, and he strolled away.

“Like to go?” asked Jack, who had not been unobservant of Desiré’s eager interest.

“How could we? We haven’t any pies.”

“There must be some place to buy them. Surely some enterprising person would foresee the market. Let’s look around a bit.”

He tied the horses to a post and locked the doors. René was wide awake by this time, and eager for new adventures; so the four, Priscilla still silent, walked along the streets of the little town until they found a place bearing a sign—“Pies for sale.” Here they purchased four pies, and turned their steps toward the church. At the door a pretty girl took their donations, and they were allowed to enter. Along the sides of the little basement were rough board counters loaded with pies of every size and variety. One could buy whatever one desired, from a whole pie to a small slice.

“We’re like the Chinese,” smiled Jack, as they stood eating pieces of custard pie; “dessert first, then more substantial food.”

The pretty girl who had been at the door now approached them, and smiling at Jack, said—“We’re going to dance here tonight after all the pies are sold. Hope you will all stay.”

“I’m sorry, but we shall not be able to,” he replied courteously. “I have old Simon’s wagon out there, and can’t leave it so long.”

“Oh, we heard about the young man who was going to take Simon’s route. My folks know him real well. He often puts the wagon in our barn and stays all night at our house. Why—wait a minute.”

She darted off, and returned almost immediately with a short, thick-set man, who looked like a farmer.

“This is my father, Jean Riboux,” she said. “I’m Prudence.”

“My name is Wistmore,” replied Jack, shaking hands; “and these are my sisters, Desiré and Priscilla; and my little brother René.”

“Pleased to know you, both for yourselves and for old Simon,” responded the man, with unmistakable cordiality. “You must make free at our place, same as he did. Drive over, put up the team, and stay all night.”

Though Jack protested, the man would hear of no refusal, and ten minutes later they turned into a nearby farmyard. Jean took the horses away from Jack, and sent the Wistmores into the house to his wife who had come to the door to meet them.

“Your husband and daughter insisted upon our coming here for the night,” said Jack, after introductions had been made; “but I think it is entirely too much. There are so many of us—”

“There’s always a welcome here for any friends of old Simon’s,” was Mrs. Riboux’s quiet reply; “and we have plenty of room. We were sorry to hear of his bad luck; but then, it turned out well for you,” looking at the little family curiously.

“Yes, the opportunity to take the route came just as we were looking for something for the summer,” said Desiré, smiling shyly at their hostess.

“Oh, then you’re not goin’ to keep it regular?”

“That can not be decided,” contributed Jack, “until we see how things go.”

As they gathered around the table for supper, the boy who had told them about the Pie Social slid into one of the chairs and grinned at Desiré.

“Didn’t think you’d see me again so soon, did you?”

“That’s Ormand, Orrie for short,” explained Prudence, who sat beside Jack right across the table from them.

“I guessed who you people were as soon as I laid eyes on Dapple and Dolly; and I knew you’d turn up here finally.”

The conversation of the elders turned to crops, and continued throughout the meal, while the younger people talked of the coming dance.

“Now,” said Mrs. Riboux to Desiré, as they left the table, “why don’t you put the little fellow to bed and go to the dance with my boy and girl? I’ll watch out for him,” as Desiré hesitated and looked at Jack. “All ages go to these socials, so your sister could go along too,” she added, as the Wistmores started up the long flight of stairs to their rooms.

“I’ll put René to bed while you dress up a bit,” offered Jack, taking the little boy by the hand, and preparing to leave Desiré.

She detained him, however, and asked in a low tone, “What about—?” motioning toward the door of her room, which Priscilla had entered ahead of her.

“Trot on into that room across the hall, Renny,” directed Jack, starting him in the right direction; “and see how nearly ready for bed you can get before I come.”

“Although she is far too young for dances,” he continued, “since it is the custom here for girls of her age to attend them, I should have allowed her to go; but in the light of this afternoon’s escapade, I think she should be deprived of the pleasure. Don’t you?”

“Y—e—s; I suppose so; but I’m afraid she’ll make a fuss, for she expects to go. And I do hate to disappoint her.”

Without replying, Jack stepped into the room where his younger sister was standing before an old-fashioned mirror combing her hair.

“Priscilla,” he began quietly, “you weren’t counting on going to the dance; were you?”

“Yes, I am,” she retorted quickly, turning to face him. “You heard Mrs. Riboux say that girls of my age go.”

“That is not the point at all. What about this afternoon’s disobedience?”

“It wasn’t my fault that I met that awful animal,” she muttered, half under her breath.

“You are being purposely stupid, Priscilla. You know very well that you were deliberately disobedient in not following the wagon as I told you to. If you can’t obey, we shall all have a miserable summer. To impress that fact on your mind, you must stay right here in your room until we come back; that is, unless René wants something.”

Jack crossed the hall to his own room, and Desiré looked pityingly on her sister, who had thrown herself into a chair beside the window and was giving way to tears. There was no use trying to reason with Priscilla when the child was in one of these moods; so she went about her own preparations for the evening, in silence; but considerable of her own pleasure was taken out of the prospect.

Before leaving, she stooped over the big chair in which the little girl crouched, put her arms around her, and kissed her affectionately without speaking. Priscilla also said nothing, but she returned the kiss; and Desiré, recognizing the act as the beginning of a return to normal conditions, felt happier about leaving her.

Ormand and Prudence Riboux were evidently very popular among the young folks of the country; and they introduced their guests to so many boys and girls that the Wistmores were never at a loss for partners.

“Wasn’t it fun!” cried Desiré joyously, as she said goodnight to Jack in the dim upper hall, lighted only by their two candles. “Didn’t you have a good time?”

“Yes, I did.”

“And just think, we’ve made some new friends already. I like the Riboux family.”

“So do I; they’re fine people,” agreed Jack absentmindedly. He was thinking about tomorrow’s trip into the Clare District. That was going to be the hardest part of the route, going through their old home and its neighboring towns.

“Jack!” cried Desiré, as she entered her room. “Prissy’s gone!”

CHAPTER VII

A FRIGHT

“Gone!” echoed Jack, staring blankly around the room. “Where could she possibly go?”

“I don’t know; but you see she isn’t here.”

There were few places to look. Jack peered under the big bed, while Desiré looked in the clothes press and a deep chest.

“What shall we do?” she whispered, twisting her hands together and trying to force back the tears. “Is René in your room?” as a sudden thought occurred to her.

With two steps, Jack crossed the hall and stuck his head into the room opposite.

“Yes; he’s in bed.”

Mrs. Riboux, sensing that something was wrong, came out of her room, followed by her husband. Their exclamations brought Prudence and Ormand to join the group. A few minutes of excited consultation resulted in Mr. Riboux going out to notify the authorities that a child was missing.

While the women searched the house from top to bottom, Jack and Ormand, aided by the feeble rays of a lantern, looked about the barns and yard. A group of men and boys from the town were soon scouring the nearby woods, and Desiré, who had returned to her room after the fruitless trip through the various rooms, could see the moving lights and hear occasional shouts.

The forced inaction maddened her. If there were only something she could do besides wait. What danger might not Priscilla be in while she stood helpless here?

After a long time Mr. Riboux, followed by Jack and Ormand, crossed the yard, and she ran downstairs hoping for news. Her brother merely shook his head gravely when they met in the kitchen where Mrs. Riboux was making coffee and setting out a lunch for the men who were still in the woods. One by one they straggled in, reporting no luck at all.

Desiré’s own acute distress was increased every time she looked at Jack’s stern, set face. Well she knew by the deep lines between his eyes that he was blaming himself for Priscilla’s disappearance.

Although it had been a great relief to have René sleep through the first excitement, now it was a distinct pleasure to hear his voice from upstairs and be able to run up and see what he wanted. At least it provided something to do.

“I’m coming,” called Desiré, stopping in her room to get a lamp.

“Don’t want you,” replied René rudely, as she entered. “Want Prissy. She was going to catch the mouse,” he added.

“The mouse,” repeated his sister in bewilderment, feeling his head to see if he were feverish.

“Yes,” said the little boy, jerking fretfully away from her and pointing to the corner behind the bed.

There lay Priscilla, curled up on the floor, fast asleep, with Polly, the big grey house cat, clasped tightly in her arms. The animal blinked at the light and uttered a loud “Me-o-w!”

Desiré, together with Jack who had by that time followed her, stood speechless, looking down at the sleeping child.

“I want to know if she caught that mouse,” demanded René in positive tones.

At that moment Priscilla, aroused by the sound of voices, opened her eyes, a bit bewildered by the sudden awakening. She looked blankly from one to another, her gaze finally centering on Jack’s face.

“I didn’t disobey you,” she said. “René called me because he was frightened of a mouse. You said I might leave the room if he wanted anything.”

“But what are you doing down here on the floor, darling?” asked Desiré softly; for Jack could not speak.

“I got Polly and sat down here by the mouse’s hole so’s she could catch him when he came out again; and we all kept so quiet I guess we went to sleep.”

Jack picked the little girl up, carried her to the room across the hall, and held her close for a moment before laying her on the bed.

“Both of you get to sleep as soon as you can,” he directed. “I’ll go down and tell the family she’s found.”

“Is Jack angry at me?” inquired Priscilla, sleepily.

“Not a bit, dear. We thought you were lost. Everybody has been looking all over for you, out in the barn, in the woods, and—”

“And here I was all the time,” giggled the child, wholly unconscious of having been the cause of great anxiety and effort.

Along the shore, the next morning, as the Wistmores started out after parting reluctantly with the Riboux family, were hundreds of gulls looking for food, and the air was filled with their harsh croaking cries. Out on the blue waters floated others, at rest on the ripples. In the meadows herds of black and white cows wandered about, cropping the grass heavy with dew, their bells tinkling constantly as they sought for choicer tidbits.

“Before we get to Saulnierville we make our first stop,” said Desiré, consulting the list she had taken from Jack’s pocket.

“We’ll be there shortly.”

“Oh, I hope we sell just lots of stuff!” cried Priscilla, who was quite herself again.

“Yes, lots of stuff,” echoed René, grabbing Jack around the neck.

“Don’t choke brother,” laughed Desiré, loosening the embracing arms.

Before many minutes passed, they came in sight of a small grey house. An immense grey barn stood behind it, its double doors freshly painted a brilliant red. The farm was enclosed by a grey fence with double gates of pure white.

“Why don’t the gates and the doors match, I wonder,” remarked Priscilla, who had an eye for color combinations.

“I haven’t the faintest idea,” replied Jack, bringing the wagon to a stop before a path bordered with clam shells. The path led up to the front door, and another row of clam shells surrounded the house, which was built, like so many others in Nova Scotia, with overlapped shingles on one side and clapboards on the other three.

“Let the youngsters run about a bit while I go in,” directed Jack, preparing to climb over the wheel.

At this moment the sound of galloping horses on the road over which they had just come made everyone turn; and they saw another wagon, the counterpart of their own, swaying crazily from side to side as the driver urged on his excited animals.

“Runaway!” squealed René delightedly.

“They’ll hit us!” shrieked Priscilla.

Jack deftly pushed off the road into a field, and jumped from the wagon ready to be of assistance. His keen eye saw at once, however, that the approaching team was not out of control. As soon as it came abreast of the Wistmore “store” the driver pulled up with a suddenness which threw the animals on their haunches; and, leaping from his seat, he faced Jack belligerently.

CHAPTER VIII

A FIGHT

“My territory!” growled the man, motioning toward the house. “What are you doing here?”

“You’re mistaken,” responded Jack quickly. “I have old Simon’s entire route, and this is the first stop on the list he gave me.”

“It may have been his, but it ain’t goin’ to be yours!”

“And who is going to prevent me?” inquired Jack, in even, quiet tones which Desiré knew meant that he was working hard to keep his temper under control.

“I am. I made up my mind soon as I heard the old man was sick, that I would take this route; and nobody’s goin’ to stop me. Least of all, you,” he added, looking Jack’s slender form up and down contemptuously.

“You great—big—” began Priscilla excitedly.

“Be quiet, Prissy,” said her brother. “You and the others stand over there beside the wagon.”

As he spoke, he started in the direction of the farmhouse. Like a flash the thick-set figure was in his pathway.

“No, you don’t!” he sneered.

The two measured each other silently for a moment, standing as motionless as dogs in that last tense moment just before they spring.

Jack put out his foot to advance, and his opponent was upon him. They fell heavily to the ground, the stranger on top.

“He’ll kill him!” sobbed Priscilla, while René added his wails to hers.

“Don’t kill Jack!” he cried.

“Hush!” pleaded Desiré, her eyes wide with fright. “Say a prayer that Jack will come out all right.”

The terrified little group watched the two adversaries roll over and over, pounding, grappling, struggling. Then Jack, with a quick twist, loosened the grasp of the other and sprang to his feet. With surprising swiftness, for a man so heavy, the enemy also righted himself and again leaped upon Jack. Back and forth they swayed, locked in a close embrace, each trying desperately to keep his own footing and trip the other. At times they stood stock still waiting to get breath and strength for a renewal of the contest. Then it began all over again.

Finally Jack succeeded in twisting one of his long legs quickly around one of his adversary’s, thereby throwing him heavily to the ground. With a leap, Jack was astride of him, pinning his arms to the earth. The man tried to roll sufficiently to throw him off, but Jack was too well placed to allow him very much motion. Weight, anger, and unskilled methods had worked against him; now Jack had complete advantage.

“Shall I give you what you deserve?” demanded Jack, after a moment’s pause.

“Nough!” muttered the man sullenly.

“Get off this route, then, and stay off of it; or next time—” threatened Jack, getting up. “Turn that team right around, and go back to Yarmouth, or wherever you come from!”

Slowly, keeping one eye on Jack the while, he obeyed. As soon as he was on the way, Desiré and the children ran toward their brother.

“Oh, Jack, aren’t you hurt somewhere?” demanded Desiré anxiously.

“Only a few bruises and scratches, thank God!” was the grateful response. “I kept wondering what you would do, poor child, if I were smashed up.”

After a good brushing, and “first-aid” treatment of his scratches, Jack pronounced himself as good as new.

“Children,” said Desiré, “we begged so hard for Jack’s safety. We mustn’t fail to say ‘Thank You’ for what we received. Let’s each say a little prayer of thanksgiving right now.”

After a moment of silence they again turned their attention to the business in hand. Desiré and the children stayed with the wagon, while Jack started once more toward the house.

At his knock, the inner door opened, a woman’s head showed behind the glass of the storm door, and then the outer door was pushed back. Almost every dwelling, no matter how small and unpretentious, has its storm door, and usually these are left on all summer.

“I’m taking old Simon’s route this summer,” began Jack, using the words he was to repeat so many times that season; “and I called to see if you need anything.”

“Yes, I do,” answered the plump little woman in the doorway, her black eyes busily inspecting Jack, and traveling rapidly to the wagon, the girl, and the children on the road. “I’m all out of thread, crackers, kerosene, and—what else was it? Oh, yes, shoe laces. Where’s old Simon? I’ve been watching out for him for three weeks.”

“Sick, in Yarmouth,” replied Jack, turning to go to the wagon to fill her order. The woman followed him.

“This your wife?” she asked, curiously staring at Desiré.

Jack flushed.

“No, my sister; and that is another sister, and my kid brother,” he replied, talking more rapidly than usual to hold the woman’s attention; for Desiré, overcome by laughter, had walked a few steps down the road to recover her composure.

“Where are your folks!”

“Dead,” was the brief reply.

“Now that’s too bad! You so young, and with three youngsters to keep. Dear! Dear!”

Desiré returned just in time to hear the last remarks, and her face twitched so in her efforts to control it that Jack himself had to bury his head in the depths of the wagon while he looked for the cracker boxes.

“Come up to the house with me when this young man carries my things in,” she said to Desiré, taking her by the arm. As if she were indeed a child, she led her along the path to the doorstep.

“Set here,” she directed; and disappeared into the house.

“Ready?” asked Jack, when he came out.

“I don’t know. I was told to ‘set here’; and here I ‘set,’” whispered Desiré.

At that moment the woman returned with a pasteboard box which she thrust into Desiré’s hands.

“Here’s a few cookies for your dinner. They always taste good to children, I guess.”

“Oh, thank you so much. I’m sure we’ll enjoy them,” responded the girl.

“Stop every time you come around,” called the odd little woman, as they closed the gate behind them.

CHAPTER IX

IN CAMP

“Well, our first sale wasn’t so bad,” observed Desiré, as they drove away. “But wasn’t she funny?”

“I thought you were going to disgrace us,” said Jack, smiling. “If you can’t behave any better than that, I’ll have to leave you beside the road somewhere and pick you up later.”

“Oh—o—o!” shrieked René.

“What’s the matter?” demanded Jack, turning to look at the small boy behind him.

“Don’t want Dissy left anywhere! Want her with us!”

“Jack’s only fooling, darling; don’t cry,” consoled Desiré, reaching back over the seat to pet the little boy.

Peace and quiet having been restored, they jogged along the sunshiny road, and soon were abreast of St. Mary’s Bay, where flecks of white were dancing over the blue surface.

“White caps,” observed Desiré. “Fundy must be rough today.”

“Those are gulls,” corrected Jack, “at least so the Indians used to believe. The Spirit of the Sea was so fond of the birds that he caught a lot one day and, with a long string, tied their legs together. He keeps them down in his house under the water, and at times he lets the gulls come up to swim on the top of the water for air and exercise.”

“Why don’t they fly away then? I would!” asserted René, big-eyed with interest.

“Because the Spirit holds fast to the string, and when he thinks they’ve been out long enough, he pulls them all down under the water again.”

Between Saulnierville and Little Brook they made several stops and substantial sales. The picnic dinner which good Mrs. Riboux had insisted upon packing for them, they ate beside a shady stream in which many little fish darted about among the weeds. René insisted upon trying to catch some with his hands, but succeeded only in getting his clothing so splashed that Desiré had to stand him out in the sun to dry before they could continue on their way.

“There’s Church Point,” cried Desiré, later in the afternoon, pointing to the skyline ahead, where a tall spire topped with a cross rose proudly against the blue.

“How happy the sailors must be when they first catch sight of that point,” mused Jack.

“Why?” asked Priscilla.

“Because the spire can be seen for many miles out at sea, and the sailors use it as a guide.”

The shadows were getting long, and the air was much cooler by the time they drove into the little town. On St. Mary’s Bay several fishing boats had already been anchored near the sands, and farther out on the gilded water others were heading for the shore. Over the slight rise near the church they drove, and in and out among the ox teams and lines of slow-moving cows.

“Everybody’s goin’ home but us,” remarked René rather plaintively, making the tears spring to Desiré’s eyes, while the lines of Jack’s mouth became even more stern.

“Silly!” observed Priscilla. “We are home. Home’s where Jack and Desiré are.”

Desiré smiled up at Jack, and leaned back to squeeze her little sister’s arm.

“Shall we try to make our sales before supper, and then camp outside of town?” asked Jack; “or shall we eat, and then sell afterwards.”

“Sell first. Work before pleasure,” Desiré decided promptly.

At a house far beyond the church they came to a halt, and Desiré leaned from the wagon to call to a small boy in blue overalls, who sat on the gate watching them—“Tell your mother that old Simon’s wagon is here, please, and ask her if she wants anything.”

Without a word the little fellow slid down and ran into the house. Almost immediately a tall, loose-jointed man, whose resemblance to the child was marked, came out and crossed the yard.

“The missus is sick,” he explained, “but I know what she wants. She’s been talkin’ of nothin’ else for days. Buttons, five yards of calico, a pencil for the boy, and a few pounds of sugar. Got old Simon’s route for good?”

“I’m not sure. He’s sick in Yarmouth now.”

“So? That’s too bad. Are you going on up the Bay?”

“Expect to,” replied Jack, giving the man his purchases and counting out change.

“When you get to Digby would you tell the lady in the knickknack store that I’ll sell her the pitcher?”

“Glad to, if you’ll tell me how to find her.”

“Her store is the first one of its kind that you’ll pass. She catches all the tourists by a window full of trash, and a sign ‘Souvenir Shoppe’ or something like that. She was out here a few weeks ago looking for stuff, and wanted that pitcher, but the wife didn’t want to sell it then. Since she’s been sick, though, she’s more concerned about money than about old pitchers.”

After several more stops, most of which resulted in sales, Jack pulled off of the main road into a balsam grove, just before dusk.

“You children scamper around and find some dried wood for a fire,” he directed, swinging René down, and going to unharness the horses.

“Do you intend to build a fire in here, Jack?” asked Desiré doubtfully.

“No, on the sand across the road. Take some bacon and whatever else you need from the stock while I feed Dapple and Dolly.”

By the time he had made several trips with great armfuls of grass which he had pulled for the animals, Desiré had gathered together her supplies, and with the children’s help made a fire on the beach and set out their supper. When Jack appeared, he took charge of the frying of the bacon himself.

“Isn’t this fun?” demanded Priscilla every few minutes. “Just like a picnic; and lots nicer than eating in a house.”

“Lots nicer,” echoed René, adding, “Now tell me a story.”

“Oliver Owl’s mother had told him again and again that he must not go anywhere near the big cave where the wicked witch Gamona lived,” began Jack slowly; “but Oliver was getting so big and strong that he thought he knew how to take care of himself. He had never seen the old woman, of whom all the forest folks spoke in whispers. So, early one evening, his curiosity got the better of him; and while his mother was making the beds—”

“Jack!” interrupted Priscilla, patronizingly, “people don’t make beds at night!”

“The owls do,” he replied gravely, “because they sleep in them all day and go out only at night. Around the big home tree he fluttered carelessly a while; then, suddenly, off like a shot toward a big pile of rocks whose top he could just see. Not a soul did he meet when he reached them, not a sound did he hear except the murmuring of a little breeze in the very top of the pines. So fast had he hurried that he was a very tired bird, and besides the aching of his wings he felt just a little bit doubtful about what would happen to him when he got home. So he alighted on the very highest rock of the big pile to rest, and decided how he would explain his absence to his mother. Hardly had he settled himself comfortably when a huge claw-like hand shot up from below him and grabbed his feet—”

“Oh!” squealed René.

“With a loud squawk he flapped his wings, and, bending and twisting as well as he could, managed to run his sharp beak into the fingers which grasped him. In the instant which was necessary for Gamona to get a fresh grip, Oliver struggled free; and you may believe that he lost no time in flying away from that dangerous spot. Instead of going right home, however, he went to see Glooscap, and tell him what had happened.

“‘My eyes are so small, I can’t see very well,’ he complained, after he had told the whole story.

“‘I’ll fix that,’ replied Glooscap, stroking the bird’s eyes until they became larger and larger and rounder and rounder. ‘Now you’ll be able to see her wherever you are. Keep faithful watch of her, and notify all the other creatures at night when she is near.’ So that is why the owl has such big eyes, and sits up in the trees crying ‘Who-o-o!’ all night long.

“And now you must go to bed.”

Leaving Priscilla to clear up and keep an eye on René, Jack and Desiré crossed to the grove to get things in order for the night. The tent was small, and after several unsuccessful attempts they succeeded in getting it up. Jack cut some balsam boughs for a mattress, and over them Desiré spread blankets, placing a couple of cushions for pillows. The floor of the nearby wagon was fixed in like manner for the two girls. René and Priscilla went to bed as soon as their quarters were ready for them, but Jack and Desiré, seated on a fallen log at the edge of the grove, lingered to watch the moon rising over the Bay and turning its smooth surface to silver. Fireflies flashed in the long grass at the edge of the grove, and deeper in the woods were mysterious little rustles and murmurs.

“The old settlers,” said Jack softly, “thought the fireflies were evil spirits, and used to set out pails of milk to appease them, and thus keep themselves and their property from all harm.”

“If they were as thick then as they are tonight,” laughed Desiré, “think how many pails they must have had. You know so many things, Jack”; adding, a moment later, something which had been on her mind all day.

“Do you suppose that man will ever come back?”

“You mean the one who disputed our rights?”

Desiré nodded, burying her face on her brother’s shoulder, much as Priscilla might have done.

“I hardly think so, dear,” replied Jack, stroking her curls. “He was pretty well subdued.”

“But he might try to get even with you some way,” shuddered the girl.

“We’ll keep a sharp lookout for him, but otherwise go on our way and try not to worry about mere possibilities, little sister,” decreed the boy firmly.

“If we could only find out what the paper means,” she observed a little later, her eyes on the shining waters of the Bay.

“What paper?” asked Jack suddenly, roused from serious thoughts of his own.

“Why, the one nôtre père gave you; the mysterious one.”

“We might stop in the center of each town, read it aloud, and ask the inhabitants to interpret it for us,” Jack suggested. “Or you and I could take turns standing on top of the wagon and shouting it as we go along.”

Desiré laughed at his absurdities, as he intended she should.

“I don’t care. I’m going to pretend that we’re going to find out what it means before the summer is over.”

“Pretend as much as you like, as long as you won’t let yourself be overcome with disappointment if your day dream should turn out to be only a nightmare.”

A crash behind them made them spring to their feet in sudden fright, and a child’s shrieks rang through the woods.

CHAPTER X

A NIGHT PROWLER

“René!” gasped Desiré, darting back toward the tent.

Jack outstripped her, and when she reached the scene, he was just pulling his small brother out from under a pile of canvas.

“Not hurt,” he breathed with relief; “only badly frightened.”

He put René in Desiré’s lap, and went to examine the wreckage.

“One stake pulled right out,” he reported. “Wonder how that happened. I know I had it in tight, and there is practically no wind.”

“Could he have done it in any way?” asked Desiré, motioning to the little boy.

“René,” said Jack, stooping before the child, who was now quiet again, “did you do anything to the rope of the tent to make it fall?”

René glanced up into his brother’s face upon which shone the rays of the full moon, and, turning, burrowed deep into Desiré’s arms.

“Guilty, I guess. Tell me exactly what you did,” directed Jack.

“Woke up. Played I was a gull; rope was my string. Hung on it; old thing came down. Bang!”

“René,” said Jack, taking the child’s face between his hands, and forcing him to meet his eyes, “you must never, never pull on the ropes of a tent, or meddle with any part of it. If you do, you can’t sleep in it with me, but will have to stay in the wagon with the girls.”

He picked him up and set him on a nearby stump.

“Now sit right here and think about what I have just said, while Desiré and I put the tent up again. Don’t move from the place, and watch how much extra work you have made for us when we are all so tired.”

After the tent was once more in place, Jack returned to René.

“Well, are you going to sleep in the tent or in the wagon?”

“In the tent. I won’t touch no ropes, nor nothin’ again, Jack,” promised the child, holding up his arms. “An’ I’m sorry ’bout making you and Dissy work when you’re all tired, ’n’ everything—”

“That’s a good boy,” replied his brother, carrying him off to bed for a second time.

“Goodnight, Desiré,” he said, returning to kiss her after René was disposed of. “If you’re timid, call me.”

“Yes, but, Jack dear, please don’t lie awake to take care of us. We’ll be safe.”

Soon the grove was quiet. The moon rose higher and higher, and throughout the night kept benevolent watch over the four children sleeping heavily among the protective trunks of the old balsam trees. Little creatures of the night moved noiselessly over the dried needles on the forest floor so as not to waken the strangers within their midst; and a gentle breeze stole quietly in from the Bay to waft its pungent coolness over the tired travelers.

A couple of hours passed, the moon had left the woods partly in shadow. A dark figure was stealing carefully among the tree trunks, stopping every few minutes to listen.

Beyond a band of moonlight stood the little tent from which could be heard Jack’s loud breathing. Nearby was the wagon where all was silent, and from a dark spot beyond it the horses stamped restlessly. Skirting the habitations of the human beings, the figure made its way silently toward the animals. Then Dapple’s loud whinny sounded through the quiet wood, answered immediately by that of his mate.

“Get away from our horses!” shrilled Priscilla’s voice from the back of the wagon.

“What’s the matter?” shouted Jack, roused at once by the child’s cry.

“Prissy!” cried Desiré; “you—”

“Somebody’s bothering Dolly and Dapple, Jack!” called Priscilla.

By that time Jack had lighted a couple of lanterns, and he and Desiré were out in the open.

“Stay here and hold one of these,” he directed, “while I see what is wrong.”

The horses were straining at their tethers when he reached them, but quieted at once under familiar hands. Following an impulse, Jack presently led them out of the woods and into the little clearing where the wagon and tent were placed.

“Will they disturb you if I fasten them to this tree?” he asked Desiré.

“Not a bit—I—”

“Did you find anyone?” demanded Priscilla.

“Not a single person. I looked all around before I brought the horses out.”

“You had a bad dream, dear,” began Desiré, “and—”

“But I didn’t. I heard Dapple and Dolly holler just as plain, and they never do that unless somebody goes near ’em.”

Desiré looked questioningly at her brother, but he was busy tying the animals.

“Now,” he said firmly, when he had finished his task, “we’ll all go back to bed and right to sleep.”

He turned briskly into the tent where René still slept peacefully, and quietness once more descended upon the forest. Jack, however, looped up the flap of the tent and lay watching over his little family until the soft grey light of the early morning began to filter through the trees.

CHAPTER XI

THE BLUE-COVERED BOOK

Several days later, one beautiful sunny morning, Dapple and Dolly were trotting briskly along the Shore Road toward Digby. For more than two miles this road winds along the shore of Digby Basin, formed by the Bay of Fundy waters flowing through a mile wide break in the North Mountain Range.

“That,” said Jack, pointing to the opening between the mountains, “is Digby Gap, or, as the natives call it, ‘Digby Gut.’ In olden days all the fishing boats used to stop there on their way home long enough for the fishermen to clean their fish, and throw all the ‘guts’ or insides into the water.”

“What a horrid name!” was Priscilla’s comment.

“It’s lovely here, though,” observed Desiré, gazing across the sparkling water to the hazy blue sides of the two big mountains opposite, and back again to the forested slopes beside the wagon.

“We must look out for the little shop the man told us about,” remarked Priscilla, to whom the scenery meant very little.

“Well, you watch for it, Prissy,” directed Jack. Then, turning to Desiré, “Didn’t we get a royal welcome in Sissiboo?”

“Yes; in spite of their disapproval, our old friends were wonderful to us; between the sales we made, and their generous donations, we certainly fared well.”

“Oh, Jack, there’s a bus!” cried Desiré delightedly a few minutes later. A big blue monster bore down upon them, and they had a glimpse of well-dressed people through its windows; then it was gone in a cloud of dust.

“Must be coming from the hotel,” commented her brother. “I understand there’s a big one up here somewhere above the town.”

“I’d love to ride in one of those,” said Priscilla, gazing longingly down the road after the now distant bus. “Wouldn’t you, Desiré?”

“Yes, I should. Perhaps some time we’ll be able to, but not now.”

They drove into the little town, and soon spied the shop of which they were in search.

“You go in and give the lady the message, Desiré,” said Jack, pulling up the team.

Desiré was inclined to be rather too retiring with strangers, and her brother thought she should begin to overcome her diffidence.

“Oh, Jack,” she cried, running out again a couple of minutes later, after delivering her message. “Who do you suppose keeps the shop? The lady who helped me find René on the steamer! It’s the most interesting place. Do come in and see it. She says we can look around as much as we wish.”

“I was going on for some more stock—we’re all out of crackers and a few other things—but you stay, if you wish; I’ll come back for you.”

“Don’t you need me?” she asked doubtfully.

“No; so look at as many things as you can before I get back.”

Desiré, with a happy “Thanks a lot,” ran back into the quaint little shop, while Jack drove on, thinking how sweet she was and how little time she had for herself or her own interests.

The morning was not a busy one at the shop; so the proprietress, a well-groomed New England woman, was free to devote her time to Desiré, to whom she had taken a fancy. Pleased to see that the girl was more interested in the pictures and books than in the foolish toys made to attract tourist trade, she took pains to call her attention to the best that the little store possessed.

“This is an interesting little account of the early history of this country and some of its settlers,” said Miss Robin, who was a teacher of history in one of the Boston schools, and whose mind naturally centered on her subject.

Desiré took the small blue-bound book in her hands and carefully turned its pages, reading bits here and there.

“Oh!” she suddenly exclaimed aloud.

“What is it?” inquired Miss Robin, looking up from a pile of picture postcards she was putting in order.

“The story of our own ancestors is told here.”

Miss Robin came to look over her shoulder and read:

“In the year 1744 when the question of Acadian loyalty to England resulted in the Expulsion, Jean Godet with Marie, his wife, and Desiré, his little daughter, were driven as exiles from Wolfville to the States. They settled near Boston, and some years later Desiré married one John Wistmore, a descendant of John Alden and Priscilla Mullins. When the Revolutionary War broke out, being loyal Royalists, they returned to Nova Scotia and took up farming in Wilmot, later removing to Sissiboo.”

“I have heard my father tell that same story so many, many times,” said Desiré, looking up at Miss Robin.

“They were really your ancestors, then?” asked that lady. “How very interesting.”

“But this last part he never told us,” continued the girl, indicating the closing words of the article.

“The ruins of the old Godet house near Wolfville may still be seen; for the site was never occupied for any length of time after the family was deported.”

“You must look it up if you ever go to Wolfville,” said Miss Robin.

“Oh, yes, indeed. We expect to get up there some time before winter comes, and I’ll surely hunt for the place.”

“Keep the little book,” urged Miss Robin, when Desiré, catching sight of Jack, laid the volume on the counter; “and if you come back before I go home, stop and tell me what success you had.”

“Maybe,” began Desiré, then stopped abruptly—she’d keep that to herself; so she merely thanked Miss Robin warmly, and ran out to the wagon.

“I thought we’d have dinner at one of the little restaurants here,” said Jack, after she had displayed her treasure, “and then push on.”

From the counter of the lunchroom which they selected, they could see the long government pier with the lighthouse at the end; and beside it was moored one of the steamers which cross the Bay of Fundy to St. John, New Brunswick. René was greatly disappointed because they were not going aboard.

“The child’s passion for boats is rivaled only by his passion for Indians,” observed Desiré, as they left the lunchroom.

“He’ll see plenty of the latter at Bear River.”

Desiré looked questioningly at her brother.

“That is,” he replied, “if we get there in time for the Cherry Festival, day after tomorrow.”

“Oh, Jack, can we?”

“Going to try hard to make it.”

Clouds had been slowly gathering since noon, and about five o’clock great drops of rain hit the dusty road with little “plops.”

“Big drops; won’t last long,” prophesied Desiré; but Jack let down the curtains at the side of the seat, and drew out a rubber blanket to spread over their laps. Before they had covered two miles, the rain was coming down in earnest, and Jack turned off the road into the pine woods.

“Wonder if we can keep dry here,” he said, half to himself. “Can’t possibly get to the next town tonight.”

“We’ll have supper right away before the rain begins to come through the trees,” decided Desiré, jumping out.

The pine-covered ground was still dry, and it was very cosy under the thick boughs of the tall trees. The persistent patter of the rain and the murmuring of a brisk little breeze in the tree tops added to their sense of comfort and security.

“If it doesn’t rain any harder than this, we should be able to manage pretty well,” said Desiré encouragingly, as Jack peered anxiously skyward every little while.

Conversation turned upon the book Miss Robin had given Desiré, and then drifted to Nova Scotian history.

“I’m awfully stupid; but it seems to me such a hopeless jumble,” sighed Desiré.

“Maybe I can straighten it out for you by taking bare facts, and not going into detail at all,” said Jack. “Just think of it this way,” he went on. “About the year 1000 a man called Leif the Lucky came here from Iceland, found the country in the possession of the Micmac Indians, and left it to them.

“John Cabot touched here in 1497, and claimed the land for England. In 1606 Samuel de Champlain and some other Frenchman settled at Annapolis Royal, which they called Port Royal. A few years later the English destroyed it, and some of the inhabitants fled to the shores of the Basin of Minas and built the village of Grand Pré.”

“Oh, where Evangeline lived!” interrupted Priscilla.

“Yes, and where they all lived until 1747, that is, the French who were driven out of Port Royal.”

“And what made the English drive those people away from their homes?” inquired Priscilla. “I don’t mean from Port Royal, but from Grand Pré, like Longfellow tells about in Evangeline?”

“They thought the French people were not loyal to the British government; for the country then belonged to England. To go back to our story, in 1629 the King of Scotland gave the entire country to a friend of his, and the name was changed from Acadia to Nova Scotia, which means New Scotland. From that time until 1710 the land was claimed by both France and England, and was in possession of first one and then the other. Finally Great Britain secured it for good. Is it any clearer now?”

“Oh, yes, lots; you make everything so plain, I wish I knew as much as you do,” sighed Desiré admiringly.

“I hope some day you will know lots more,” smiled Jack, adding, “I’m afraid we’re in for a wetting. I have felt several splashes of rain. The trees are getting so heavy with water that it will shower down upon us before long.”

“Then you simply can’t sleep in the tent,” said Desiré decidedly.

“Nothing else for it; there’s no room in the wagon.”

“Let me think a minute,” said Desiré. “I have it! We’ll push the trunk and box side by side and put René on them, at our feet; and you can sleep on the wagon seat. You’ll have to double up, but it will be better than getting so damp in the tent.”

“We didn’t count on a pour like this while we were on the road,” said Jack. “Too bad we were not near enough to a town to get lodgings.”

“But we could hardly afford that; and besides, this is going to be lots of fun. Priscilla, you and René run up and down in that dry path over there while we fix things,” directed Desiré.

“The boughs will be too wet to use for beds,” said Jack, moving the trunk close to the box at the very back of the wagon.

“We’ll just spread the blankets on the floor, then,” declared Desiré, briskly.

“But you’ll be wretchedly uncomfortable,” objected her brother.

“Won’t hurt us a bit once in a while. I’ll hang this rubber blanket in front of the seat, and a sheet back of it; and with the side curtains down, and a blanket to spread over you, you’ll be fairly well off, won’t you?” she asked, working rapidly as she talked.

“I’ll be fine. Don’t bother about me.”

When everything was ready, they called the two children and settled down for the night.

“Don’t be frightened if you hear a noise once in a while,” said Jack, as they settled down; “for I shall have to turn around occasionally to stretch my legs.”

“Yes, poor boy; they are far too long for your bed tonight. I hope Renny won’t roll off the trunk; but if he does, he’ll fall on top of us and won’t be hurt.”

“Oh, let’s go—to—sleep—” yawned Priscilla.

“An excellent idea,” agreed Jack; and the little family lay quietly listening to the drip of the rain until they fell asleep.

All night long Desiré dreamed of papering the old Godet house, inside and out, with mysterious figures and letters, which fell off as fast as she pasted them onto it.

The sun was shining brightly as they drove down the hillside at Bear River the second morning after, and into the ravine where dyked lands border the river. Hundreds of cherry trees loaded with brilliant fruit were on every side, and on the water was clustered the craft of those who were to take part in the sports later in the day.

“What funny river banks,” commented Priscilla.

“The ground is below the level of the river,” explained Jack; “and the banks have to be built up of interlaced tree trunks filled in with clay to keep the water from running over the land. They are called dykes.”

“Indians!” cried René, full of excitement, pointing to a group nearby.

Already great numbers of them had come from a neighboring reservation for the games. Under the heavily loaded trees, people from far and wide wandered about, tasting first one variety of fruit and then another. Groups of tourists watched from the roadside, or took part in the feasting.

Jack found a safe place for the wagon, and, after locking it, took his little family to obtain their share of the cherries which are free to all on that particular day in mid-July each year. Shortly before noon, they carried their lunch to a shady slope from which they had a good view of the place where the sports were to be held. By two o’clock, the fun was in full swing. All kinds of races, on both land and water; throwing contests; log rolling tests; and games of skill or endurance. Anyone could take part, and Desiré urged Jack to enter some of them; but he preferred to remain a spectator. He loved all kinds of sports, and was perfectly fearless; but the chance of possible injury now, when he was the head of the family, kept him from taking part. The Indians were the most clever participants, and frequently won, much to René’s delight.

“The youngster sure likes the Indians,” observed a man who sat next to Jack. “Used to be scared of ’em when I was a kid. You ought to take him to the St. Anne’s celebration some time.”

“What’s that?” inquired Jack.

“Every year the Indians make a pilgrimage to the Island of the Holy Family, round the 21st of July, and live up there in birch bark tepees until after the feast, on the 26th.”

“What do they do?” asked Desiré, leaning forward to look at the narrator.

“Well, every morning they go to Mass and attend to all their religious duties, and very often there are weddings and First Communions. If there’s been any quarreling or disputing during the year, the differences are patched up. Then in the evenings they dance and play games.”

“What kind of games?” asked René, who was eagerly listening to every word.

“Oh, whinny, hatchet throwing, deer foot, wheel and stick, hunt the button—”

“Oh, I can play that,” interrupted René, with just satisfaction.

“It’s a sight worth going a distance to see,” concluded the man.

“I imagine so,” replied Jack; “but I’m afraid we won’t get there this year. I have old Simon’s traveling store this summer, and—”

“You have? Then you want to open it up when these games are over; for a crowd like this is almost always in need of some kind of supplies. Anyway, they’re sure to buy something, whether they need it or not.”

Jack acted on the suggestion, and made so many sales that when the people finally drifted homeward it was too late to go on that night. They put up in a woods just outside of the town, and after supper Desiré made a discovery that did not altogether please her.

“Did you know that some Indians are camped a little farther down the road?” she asked Jack.

“Yes. They may be on their way to the festival of St. Anne’s that the man spoke of this afternoon. I’m sure they’re quite harmless.”

“Oh, I want to see them!” exclaimed René, starting up.

With a quick move, Jack caught the end of the child’s blouse and prevented his departure.

“You’ve seen plenty of Indians today to last you for one while, young man. Besides, it’s your bedtime.”

“No! No!” wailed René, twisting in his brother’s grasp.

“He’s tired,” murmured Desiré sympathetically.

“Can’t act like this, even if he is,” said Jack firmly. “René, behave yourself or you’ll have to be punished.”

The tantrum showed no signs of abating; so Jack promptly picked him up and started for a nearby stream, much to his sister’s distress; though she never dreamed of interfering when Jack decided that disciplinary measures were necessary.

Upon reaching the brook, Jack held the boy securely and ducked him a couple of times. Since the purpose of the procedure was punishment, it was rather disconcerting to have the child’s tantrum cries change suddenly into squeals of delight.

“Oh, Jack,” he sputtered, “do it again. I love the water.”

Even the serious Jack, in spite of his stern resolves, was quite overcome by the humor of the situation; so he decided to say no more about punishment. However, when he got back to the wagon, he rubbed the little fellow down and put him to bed, refusing Desiré’s assistance. He and Desiré enjoyed a good laugh over the incident when the younger children were safe in bed.

“Well, this time tomorrow night, I hope we’ll be in Annapolis Royal,” he said, shortly after; “and being a longish drive, I guess we’d better go to bed now.”

That interesting old town was not to see them on the morrow, however.

Jack was the first to waken on the following morning, much later than usual, and was surprised to find his tent mate gone. Peering out toward the wagon, he saw Desiré getting out of the back of it.

“Dissy,” he called, using René’s name for her.

“Yes? I was just going to waken you. I’m awfully sorry, but we overslept this morning—”

“Have you seen René?” he interrupted.

“No! Isn’t he with you?”

Desiré stood still, letting the pan which she had in her hand fall to the ground.

CHAPTER XII

A SEARCH FOR RENÉ

“He was gone when I woke up,” called Jack, who had been dressing rapidly. He came out of the tent and began looking about the wagon, tent, and surrounding woods in the persistent fashion of people, who, under like circumstances, feel that although search is useless, action of some kind is an immediate necessity.

“What ever shall we do?” whispered Desiré, tears streaming down her cheeks, when Jack returned from a fruitless search of the nearby places.

“Don’t get excited, dear,” he said, putting his arm around her shoulders. “He could have come to no harm, and I’ll find him all right.”

“But you must have help. Oh, I wish we were near the Riboux family!”

“We’ll drive back into the town to make inquiry, and then see what can be done. I know he’s not around here; for I’ve searched everywhere.”

“The—the brook?” faltered Desiré.

“Yes, I rather thought I might find him playing there. He enjoyed it so much last night,” he added, with a feeble effort at a smile, “but there’s no sign of him. Anyway, the water’s not deep enough to drown a dog, much less a hearty youngster.”

“Jack—the Indians—”

“Now, Desiré, don’t let your imagination run away with you. They’re perfectly harmless.”

“What I mean is, could Renny be with them?”

“The camp’s gone. They must have pulled out at daybreak—”

“Well, but he may have followed them,” persisted Desiré. “You know how wild he was to go over there last night.”

“It’s a possibility,” replied Jack, thoughtfully. “Probably you’re right. If so, he is perfectly safe; and I’ll find out in town how to reach them. We’d better eat, and then drive back.”

They roused Priscilla, who began to cry as soon as she heard of her brother’s disappearance, and continued until Jack said gravely—

“Don’t make matters worse, Prissy; you can help by being cheerful. Never cry until you’re sure there is something to cry about. It’s a waste of good energy.”

“Now for town,” he continued, as they at last climbed into the wagon which seemed strangely empty without the little boy. Jack was assuming a forced cheeriness, which he was far from feeling; for in spite of his advice to Desiré, he was consumed with anxiety. He felt relieved, now, at the outcome of the “punishment” last night; if René had minded, they might think he had run away. But perhaps he had been wrong in adopting this kind of a life, with the children. If anything happened to them!

He was interrupted by hearing Desiré say—

“Prissy, you sit in the back of the wagon and keep watch on the road to see if you can discover any traces of René.”

“Jack, dear,” she went on softly, as they drove into Bear River again, “please don’t blame yourself for what has happened. It surely wasn’t your fault, or anybody’s for that matter. He might have wandered off, even if we’d been at home; and I feel sure he is safe with the Indians.”

“You’re a comfort, Dissy,” replied her brother, managing a half smile.

In front of the post office stood the very man who had given them the information concerning the Indians’ pilgrimage, on the preceding day; and, pulling up, Jack told him in a few words what had happened.

“Now that’s too bad,” replied the man with genuine concern, resting one foot on the wheel hub; “if I was you—”

“Is it far to the Island of the Holy Family?” interrupted Desiré.

“Oh, yes; and come to think on’t, I don’t suppose that band was goin’ there anyhow; they’d not get there in time. They’re probably on their way back to the reservation.”

“Then where could we look for them?” questioned Jack, his heart sinking at the destruction of their hopes.

“If I was you, I’d keep right along this road toward Annapolis Royal, and perhaps you’ll catch up with them. They don’t travel fast, and you could ask in every town if they’d been through. There’s no real cause for you to worry, friends, for the little chap will be well treated. The Indians like little folks.”

Jack looked at Desiré.

“It’s good advice, don’t you think?” she asked.

“Perhaps,” he replied doubtfully, turning the team around, and thanking the man for his help.

“Good luck to you,” he called, as they started off; and Priscilla, leaning out of the back of the wagon, waved a goodbye.

All day long they drove, almost in silence, stopping only for a hurried lunch. Toward evening, when the hills had turned to red purple, they drove across a quaint covered bridge—that is, one which has a roof and solid sides of wood, like a house—over a stream whose sparkling, merry water was as yellow as gold from the reflection of the setting sun.

“I’m awfully hungry,” sighed Priscilla.

“I was just going to propose that we stop under these oaks for supper,” said Desiré. “We can’t live without eating.”

CHAPTER XIII

INDIANS AND STRAWBERRIES

“Should you mind driving all night?” asked Jack, as they prepared to start on after the meal and a short rest.

“Not a bit, if you will take turns driving,” replied Desiré promptly. “Priscilla can stretch out on the blankets, and you and I alternate at the reins.”

“The Indians have such a start on us,” went on Jack. “You see in the first place they left earlier; and then we lost all the time of our search, and going to Bear River and back; and it’s important to catch up as soon as possible, lest they should leave the road somewhere and take a crosscut to the reservation.”

“Of course,” assented Desiré.

Darkness fell; the stars came out; and the full moon gave them light enough to follow the winding road. Several times during the night Desiré persuaded Jack to let her guide Dolly and Dapple while he rested and dozed in the corner of the seat.

On past dark farmhouses whose occupants were sound asleep; past somber, solemn woods, so beautiful in the daylight, but so dense, mysterious, almost terrifying at night; across murmuring black streams; up long hills which made the tired horses breathe heavily, and down the other side where one had to hold a tight rein to keep the faithful animals from stumbling. Occasionally a bat swooped low enough to make Desiré duck her head with fright, and once, while Jack was napping, she caught sight of a huge dark bulk near the edge of a woods; but it disappeared before the snorting horses could be urged onward.

At last the moonlight darkness faded to grey; then to a lighter grey; the sky was slashed with faint rose, growing rapidly deeper and mingling with gold streaks, until the sun climbed up to survey the land; and another day had come.

“Look, Jack!” cried Desiré, elbowing her sleeping brother.

“Where?” he asked, yawning.

“In that hollow!”

They were on the crest of a hill, from which they could look down into a nearby valley.

“Tents!” exclaimed the boy, now fully aroused.

“Indians!” shouted Priscilla, who, wakened by their voices, had crept up to look over their shoulders.

“Prissy! How you scared me!” cried her sister, jumping violently.

Jack took the reins, and, as fast as the team could travel, headed for the encampment. They reached their objective just as the Indians were beginning to break camp. Everything was in confusion; braves striding here and there; squaws shouldering the big bundles; children crying; dogs barking. Running back and forth from one group to another, they spied René.

Throwing the reins to Desiré, Jack jumped down and approached an Indian who seemed to be directing affairs. With some difficulty, he made the red man understand his story. Partly by signs, partly by broken English, the chief replied that “two suns ago they had found strange white child among them. Where belong, they not know. Going on to reservation. Then send back young brave who know English to find boy’s people.”

At that moment, René caught sight of his brother, ran across the grass, and threw himself into Jack’s arms, crying:

“I found Indians, Jack! I found Indians! Ain’t they fine?”

“Yes, I see you did, and they are fine,” replied the boy gravely, handing him over to Desiré, who had left the team and hurried toward them. “Put him in the wagon, and bring me all the candy we have.”

In a moment the girl was back again with several jars of candy. Jack distributed the gaily colored sticks to all the little Indian children, and tried to make the chief understand his gratitude for the care taken of René.

The tribe then struck out through the woods, away from the main road.

“How lucky that we caught up to them right here,” said Desiré, watching them, while René waved his hand and shouted goodbyes.

“You’re a bad, bad boy,” declared Priscilla, “to run away like that and frighten us all!”

René gave her a look which was a compound of disgust and astonishment.

“They were nice to me, and I had a good time. I bet you wish you’d been along. When you ran away, you didn’t go with nice Indians, but a smelly old cat who—”

“Never mind, children,” interrupted Jack, as he started the horses and they drove up a slight elevation to a juniper grove.

“We’ll stay here for a while to let the team rest, and incidentally get some ourselves,” he decreed, turning in the shade.

While he made Dolly and Dapple comfortable, Desiré had been trying to make René understand how much trouble he had caused. “You were very naughty,” she was saying, as Jack joined them.

“Yes,” agreed the older boy, “and he’ll have to be punished to make him remember it.”

Jack’s tone made Desiré give him an entreating look; but he pretended not to see.

“Come with me, René,” he said quietly, breaking a small switch from a nearby tree, and leading the child farther into the grove.

A short silence, then a little boy’s cries could be heard; another silence, during which Desiré worked madly at anything she could think of to keep her mind off of what was going on within the woods. Although she recognized the need of drastic punishment in this instance, yet she hated to have the baby hurt. After what seemed like hours, really not more than five or ten minutes, the brothers emerged from among the trees, hand in hand.

“I’m never, never going to run away again, Dissy,” promised the little boy, grasping her around the neck as she stooped to put her arms around him.

“Angry?” asked Jack softly, as the child released himself and ran off to join Priscilla who was playing quietly with a turtle she had discovered.

“Of course not,” replied Desiré quickly. “How could you think such a thing?”

“I hated to do it, especially since I knew it hurt you so much; but he really needed a lesson. We couldn’t risk that sort of thing happening again; it might not turn out so pleasantly another time.”

“I know you do your best for all of us, dear,” she said, laying her head against his arm for a moment; “and don’t worry so much about what we may or may not think about what you do.”

On blankets laid on the ground, Jack and Desiré slept much of the afternoon, while the children played all kinds of games with the turtle.

All the morning the young Wistmores had been driving along roads bordered on either side by hundreds of apple trees. In the valley between the North Mountain on the Bay of Fundy side, and the South Mountain, there are seventy-five miles of orchards where are grown some of the choicest varieties of apples, many barrels of which are shipped to the United States every year.

“This is the most celebrated apple district in the world,” commented Jack.

“How gorgeous the trees must look when they are covered with blossoms,” Desiré remarked. “I think apple trees in bloom are among the most beautiful things in the world.”

“The whole section is famous,” continued Jack. “The first ships built on the American continent were launched down here on the Annapolis River; and on Allen’s Creek, which flows along one side of the fort, the first mill was put up. That was in the days of Champlain.”

They reached Annapolis Royal by this time, and Jack drove up the hills to see the remains of the fort, and point out the items of interest to the members of his family.

“Champlain sailed up the Bay of Fundy,” he said, motioning toward that body of water, “and when he saw the little inlet down there, entered by means of it, into that broad calm body of water called Annapolis Basin. The tree-covered sides of the hills which you see sloping gently to the water’s edge were dotted with lively waterfalls, and he thought it a fine place for a settlement.

“In those days,” he continued, turning toward René, “Great Beaver, who was an enemy of Glooscap, lived in Annapolis Basin with his best friend, a wolf. Now the wolf liked to sail, and Great Beaver made a big raft for him so he could go back and forth across the water. One day Mr. Wolf was lying on the top of North Mountain, resting after his sail, and he saw the Bay of Fundy. Right down to the Great Beaver he rushed, and asked him to dig a canal between the two bodies of water in order that he might have more room for his raft. Great Beaver didn’t like salt water; so he refused to spoil his own home by letting in the tide from Fundy. Clever Mr. Wolf, who knew that Glooscap and the Beaver were not good friends, went secretly to Glooscap and asked him to join the two pieces of water. Glooscap sent the lightning to split open the North Mountain, and through the narrow opening Mr. Wolf sailed gaily back and forth between the Bay of Fundy and Annapolis Basin.”

“And what became of the poor Beaver?” asked Priscilla.

“Oh, he had to go and build a new home in the Basin of Minas.”

“Poor Beaver,” commented René, adding, “Jack, where is Glooscap now?”

“He became angry at the number of white men coming to take possession of the land; so he called a big whale to carry him away to some far-off shore. The Indians think, though, that some day he will come back.”

“Oh, I wish he would,” cried the little boy; “I wish he would right now, so’s I could see him.”

Going down the hill, they reached the shores of the Basin in time to see the tide come in. Great masses of blue, green and silver water rushed in the Gap to fill to overflowing the Basin and all its tributary streams.

“What a wonderful sight!” exclaimed Desiré.

“I should think the Wolf would have been drowned,” observed René, watching the flood of water, his eyes open very wide.

“Why, he’d go up on the mountain and watch it, not stay in it,” said Priscilla in such a scornful tone that Jack and Desiré smiled.

Several days later, they had passed through many little towns and stopped in front of many an isolated house where they disposed of many or few of their wares. The dooryards were gay with flowers, now; for no one was too poor or too lazy to have a garden. Sometimes these gardens were elaborate in shape, and of fair size, with colors and varieties blended beautifully; sometimes only a clump of cheerful red or golden nasturtiums, clustering around a stump or unsightly rock.

“Just look at that field!” exclaimed Desiré, suddenly.

“What’s the matter with it?” inquired Jack.

“It’s just red with strawberries!”

“Oh, let’s get out and pick some,” proposed Priscilla.

“Don’t you think we might be able to sell them in the next town if we gathered enough?” Desiré asked Jack.

“Perhaps. There is a hotel, and lots of boarding houses in Kentville; so I’m told.”

They left the horses to graze in the shade of some trees, and the whole family, armed with various sized dishes, scattered over the field. After a couple of hours’ steady work, they transferred the berries to a basket, covered them with leaves, and continued on their way.

“Who’s going to sell them?” questioned Jack, when they were nearly to Kentville.

“Never thought of that,” confessed Desiré.

“I will,” offered Priscilla. “Let me!”

“Me too,” chimed René. “I can sell berries fine.”

“You’re a bit young, Renny,” said Jack with a smile; then, turning to Priscilla, he said, “All right, if you want to.”

Desiré looked a bit surprised at his willingness; but Jack just drew the team up in front of one of the smaller boarding houses and suggested, “Try here.”

The little girl took the basket which he handed down to her, walked boldly up the path to the front door, and knocked. Through the screen door they heard an annoyed voice say—“Now, I’ve told you—Oh, what is it, child?”

A low conversation ensued, and Priscilla flew out to the wagon again, displaying proudly a couple of silver coins.

“She’ll take some any time, she says; and she knows other places where they would.”

“How would it be,” inquired Desiré thoughtfully as they went on, “if we took time for berry picking so long as they last; even if we don’t cover so much ground, it will be clear profit.”

“We could,” said Jack slowly; “and it would be better for us all to be out of the wagon for a while.”

“In that case,” asked Desiré, “hadn’t we better camp nearby, since we know we can find quantities of berries here, and Kentville is a pretty good market.”

Jack agreed.

A most delightful spot beside a noisy brook, just outside the town, was selected as a camp site; and for two whole weeks they scoured the surrounding country for berries, taking their harvest in to Kentville once a day.

“I guess these are the last,” commented Desiré rather regretfully, as they climbed up a slope toward a bridge on their way home one afternoon.

“Oh, I see a few down there,” cried Priscilla, starting toward the edge of the river bank.

“Be careful,” called Jack, as she put one foot part way down the bank to reach some clusters beyond her, rather than walk a little farther.

His warning came too late. Even as he spoke, her foot slipped on the mud; and before she could save herself, she slid all the way down the soft slope and rolled into the river.

CHAPTER XIV

TWO MISHAPS

Fortunately the tide was out; so the water was not very deep, and while Desiré stood on the bridge and watched helplessly, and Jack was looking for a place where he could go to her assistance, Priscilla managed to get out of the water.

“Don’t come down,” she called, “you’ll fall too. I’ll be up soon.”

But the mud was very slippery; and again and again she slid back, while René shouted with laughter, and clapped his hands. Even Desiré had to smile; for Priscilla did look funny, plastered with red mud, and dripping with water. Jack again started toward her, but Desiré held him back.

“There is no use in two of you getting in that state. She’s in no danger, and since she is lighter in weight than you, she stands a much better chance of climbing up that bank. Prissy,” she called, “crawl on your hands and knees.”

The little girl obeyed, and finally reached the top, where Jack stretched out a strong hand to pull her over the edge.

“What shall I do?” she wailed, holding her sticky arms out straight from her body, and half blinded by the wet, muddy hair hanging over her face.

“I wish I knew,” said Desiré. “Can you walk home, do you think?”

“I guess so. I’ll try; but—but—I lost all my berries!”

“You look like a big berry yourself, you’re so red,” gurgled René.

At least one of the party was enjoying the incident to the utmost.

It took a long time to scrape and wash the mud off poor Priscilla, and when the task was accomplished they were exhausted.

While the others were occupied, René had been playing about by himself. Just as Priscilla looked once more like herself, the little boy ran toward the group crying at the top of his voice.

“What’s happened?” demanded Jack, advancing to meet the child and picking him up.

“Bite!” he wailed, holding out his finger.

“What bit you?”

“Long, wiggly thing,” sobbed the little fellow. “Ran away so fast.”

“Snake!” said Desiré. “Oh, Jack! What shall we do?”

“Don’t be frightened,” said the boy, calmly sitting down with the little fellow on his lap, and examining the finger carefully. He found the bite, and putting it to his lips, began to suck the blood from it while Desiré helped hold René still.

“Jack, do be careful,” she begged anxiously; “be sure not to swallow any of it,” as he paused to dispose of what he had drawn from the wound. “Be quiet, Renny; brother is trying to make you well; so you mustn’t mind if he hurts you a little.”

Priscilla, with terrified eyes, stood looking on helplessly until Desiré sent her for a box of emergency supplies which she had prepared before leaving Sissiboo.

“I hardly think it was a poisonous snake,” said Jack, when he had done all he could; “but I suppose it is best to be on the safe side. I had better take him in to Kentville to a doctor.”

“Oh, yes,” breathed Desiré, in great relief; “and let him see if you’re all right too.”

They hitched up the horses and drove into the town, and while Jack and Desiré took René to the physician’s office, Priscilla took the berries they had gathered that day to her first customer, Mrs. Auberge. They had become good friends, and the little girl naturally told her of the recent accidents.

“There are no dangerous snakes right around here,” she said soothingly; “but it does no harm to have a doctor look the boy over. So you’re going on tomorrow? I’ll miss you. How would you like to stay with me for the rest of the summer and help me with the tourists? I’ll pay you.”

“I’d have to ask Jack,” replied the child slowly, after a minute’s thought. “I’ll come back and let you know.”

She met the others just coming out of the doctor’s house.

“Renny and Jack are both all right,” Desiré cried joyfully to her little sister. “Where have you been?”

“I sold the berries to Mrs. Auberge; and—and—Jack—”

“Yes?”

“She wants me to stay here and help her for the rest of the summer, and she’ll pay me.”

Desiré glanced quickly at Jack, who stood regarding Priscilla very gravely.

“Do you want to stay?” he inquired, finally.

“It would bring in some money—I’d be glad—that is—”

“That isn’t what I asked you, Prissy. I said do you want to stay.”

“Answer Jack, dear,” urged Desiré, as the child stood silent, hanging her head. “Don’t be afraid to say just what you feel.”

“She isn’t afraid,” said Jack gently. “Do you want to stay with Mrs. Auberge, dear?”

Priscilla shook her head.

“All right,” replied her brother; “that settles it.”

“I told her I’d let her know—” began the little girl.

“Very well. Run back and thank her nicely for her offer, but say that this summer we are all going to stay together. We’ll walk on slowly, and you can catch up with us.”

Before they had gone far, they heard running steps behind them; and Priscilla came abreast, catching Jack by the hand.

“See what she gave me,” holding up a box as she spoke; “a game we can all play; and any time I want to, I can stay and help her.”

“That’s very nice of her,” said Desiré. “How wonderful people are to us everywhere.”

“It’s a good thing,” remarked Jack that night, “that tomorrow we shall return to our regular occupation and way of living. I feel as if I had had enough excitement today to last for the rest of the summer.”

“Oh, of that kind, perhaps,” agreed Desiré; “but there are other kinds; and those I hope we’ll meet. Did the doctor charge much?”

“About half what we made on the berries,” smiled Jack.

“But we’re still a little better off than when we came.”

“Yes, some; but not much.”

“Well, never mind; huckleberries are coming, and we’ll make it up on them,” decided Desiré hopefully. “Wasn’t it dear of Prissy to be willing to go to work?”

“Yes, she spoke of it again when I bade her goodnight; but I said we could support her until she is older. While it can be managed otherwise, I hate to have her cooped up in a strange house doing all kinds of odd jobs.”

“We haven’t done so badly thus far, have we?”

“No; but we haven’t made anywhere near enough to settle down somewhere and go to school.”

“But the summer isn’t over yet; and who knows what will happen before winter comes?”

“You’re a hopeful little pal, Dissy,” he said, kissing her fondly.

“Now we must begin to look for the Godet house,” said Desiré, pulling out her little blue history the next morning, when they were on the way to Wolfville.

“I was sorry we could get no information, when we passed through Wilmot, about the first Wistmore house in this country,” said Jack.

“They lived on a sheep farm when they came here from the States, and probably the place looks like all others of its kind,” replied Desiré, poring over the book.

“I think the Godet house must be the other side of Grand Pré,” observed Jack, looking over her shoulder. “We’ll go there first.”

So they turned off the main road and drove down the hill, through the straggling village, its long street bordered by spreading trees and scattered white houses far back from the road. The great marsh meadow, which was the Grand Pré of Longfellow’s poem Evangeline, has been set apart as a park, and is surrounded by a fence. By going through a gate-house, one enters the enclosure known as Acadian National Park.

As the Wistmores descended the low broad step on the park side of the gate-house, René, his eyes on the distant well of which he had heard his sisters talking, put one foot right into a very small flower-bordered pool at the left of the step. Everyone turned at the sound of the splash.

“Renny!” exclaimed Priscilla severely, “I never saw such a child for water.”

“You rolled right into the river,” retorted the little boy, “and got all red mud too!”

Jack and Desiré exchanged smiles.

For an hour the children wandered over the interesting and beautiful meadowland, dotted with large beds of gorgeous flowers.

“What a sense of spaciousness, and of peace, the place gives one,” observed Desiré, as they stood before the little chapel, gazing about them. “Look, René, at the swallows’ nests.”

On the walls, close to the buttress which supports the sharply slanting roof, several nests were plastered.

“And is this the very same church mentioned in Evangeline?” inquired Priscilla, nearly breaking her neck to look up at the belfry, surmounted by a tall four-sided spire.

“No; but it is built on the site of that one, and the row of willows you see down there to the right grew on the main street of Grand Pré. The first settlers brought the shoots from Normandy. The well we passed on our way up is the same one from which the inhabitants of the olden village obtained their water supply. Just north of here is the Basin of Minas, where the people embarked on the ship which carried them away at the time of the Expulsion. This meadowland all around us was protected from the high tides by dykes like you saw a few weeks ago in Bear River. At one side of the Basin lies Cape Blomidon, where the amethysts are found; and—”

“Where Glooscap lived,” interrupted René, always glad to contribute to the narratives.

“Yes,” assented Jack, “where Glooscap lived. After the hay was cut from the meadows,” he continued, “cattle were turned in to graze until winter came.”

“How queer it makes one feel to be here,” observed Desiré dreamily.

They missed Priscilla at that moment, and looking around, saw her standing in front of the large bronze statue of Evangeline, which is in the centre of the park.

“She doesn’t look at all like I thought she would,” commented the little girl in disappointed tones, as the others joined her. They all gazed in silence for a moment at the sorrowful figure, looking backward at the land she was so reluctant to leave.

“You probably like to think of her, as I do, in a happier mood,” said Desiré; “but she must have been pretty sad when she went away.”

“We had better go on now,” decided Jack. So they followed the little stream which twists its way across the meadow; a mere thread in some places, in others wide enough to be bridged with single planks. Once it spread out into a fair-sized pond, covered with water lilies and guarded by a family of ducks who regarded the visitors scornfully.

“Now for our house,” cried Desiré as they drove onto the main road again. “Please go very slowly, Jack, so that we won’t miss it.”

They all peered eagerly out of the wagon; and when they saw, up a little lane, a dilapidated-looking building, they all exclaimed together—“That must be it!”

Jack drove as close as the underbrush would allow, and they proceeded on foot until they were standing before a small log cabin, windowless, doorless, a huge flat stone for a doorstep, and a chimney built of irregular stones.

1 Six Owls.