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CHAPTER VI
WHEN A GIRL FIGHTS

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And Henri was right, there was a message in it. The bag proved to be a muslin container for the “Extras” that passengers always accumulate on a plane and never know how to carry away; a blue, thin denim bag with the airline name in stamped letters, and a draw string at top. It had been stuffed full of crushed newspapers and discarded bits of linen to make a padding for the green thermos bottle they found inside, to save it from smashing on its way down.

It took the girls and Henri quite a few minutes to unwrap it, but finally there it was; a thermos bottle.

“Let’s see,” Cecy was asking breathlessly and needlessly, for that’s what all three of them were doing at once; trying to see.

“A thermos bottle dropped from—the—plane,” Kay murmured, trying to imagine what it might mean. “See, here’s a line of writing pasted on the outside.”

Yes; there was a piece of mucilaged paper, the sort of strip used on paper wrappers, fastened on the green bottle and on this was written:

“Do not read. Deliver at once to the Hermit on Proud Hill,” and beneath was the word: “Desperate.”

“Desperate,” repeated Henri, “whoever tossed that out must have been in trouble.”

“Yes.” The girls were too surprised to even comment just then. Instead, Kay who held the little green covered bottle, was turning it over and over before opening it.

“We could look in and see what’s inside without reading anything,” Cecy suggested.

“Sure,” agreed Henri, “just unscrew the top.”

“I am,” Kay murmured, “but it is certainly on tight.” So tight that it took a wind of Cecy’s disputed camp kerchief twisted around the metal top to make sufficient “purchase” to finally turn the top. Next, there was the cork and that was down very tight also. But Kay placed the bottle firmly between her knees and, regardless of the small injury that still sported the bandage, she finally pulled the cork. Then they could see what might be inside.

“Yes, there’s a note,” Kay said, holding the opened bottle out for Cecy’s inspection.

“I’ll take it over to the hermit,” offered Henri, eager to follow up the adventure.

“Let’s wait a minute,” Cecy said, thinking of their responsibility in carrying out the request from whoever was “desperate.”

“Yes,” Kay spoke up. “It was surely dropped on our place purposely, so I guess I’m the one to deliver it to the hermit.”

“Let’s all go,” begged Henri. Plainly he did not want to be left out of the excitement. “Besides, you know everyone can’t go to the hermit’s. He won’t answer calls nor knocks——”

“But he did answer us,” Cecy broke in. “We’ve already made his acquaintance.”

“Oh,” said Henri.

“Well, let’s all go as Henri says,” Kay decided. “Come along. It isn’t far at all if we go across the Oldfields. I went away out of the way this afternoon.”

So they started off. But not before Kay had hurried in to tell Nannie she would be back “very shortly,” in case her mother came home first.

Henri pushed his wheel and rode a short ways, intermittently, until they reached the woods. Then he, like the girls, had to walk. Naturally both Kay and Cecy were quietly thinking someone must have been very desperate indeed to drop a message in a thermos bottle from a flying plane.

“Perhaps they could see us there on the steps,” she said to Cecy. No need to be more explicit.

“Yes; I was thinking that. People in planes either have glasses or can borrow them. Certainly, I can’t think of any reason why they should have picked us to drop a message to, otherwise.”

“Hey!” said Henri, who was waiting for them to catch up with him. “See those bushes stirring over there? I’ll bet Mamie Johnson is behind them.”

“What of it?” scoffed Kay. “We’re not afraid of her.”

“Well, she’s tough,” warned Henri. “We might as well give her plenty of room. Let’s cut through here——”

“Smarties! Window-breakers! Stuck-ups!”

The calls came from behind the bushes Henri had suspected, and the next moment as the boy was trying to turn his wheel pushed by hand, into a safer spot, the girl plunged out at him, and threw her weight against the wheel, bringing it smashing down and Henri with it.

“Here you! Stop that! What do you mean?” Kay managed to splutter those useless words. But the girl, Mamie Johnson, wilder looking than Henri’s previous description even hinted at, was busy pounding Henri, while he finally, with a great swing of his light muscular, young body managed to shake off the struggling girl.

“Here! Here! What do you mean, you rowdy?” Cecy was saying while she and Kay, as if at a signal for action, both sprang upon the girl and together managed to hold her while Henri jumped into the circle and got hold of the flaying arms, pinning them to safety.

“That’s enough now,” he said rather quietly. “Three to one is too much, even for you, Mamie Johnson. What’s the matter with you now?”

“I’ll show you, you sneaky feriner,” she hissed. “Think you can do things to my uncle’s property—I’ll show you. Give me that silk handkerchief.” The girl, her hair hanging all over her angry features, her clothes, half boy’s half girl’s, and looking like neither, was now struggling to get free. Evidently she believed what Henri had told her; that three to one was too many even for her.

Realizing her intention was to escape, the girls eased their hold on her, and instantly she shot off through the woods like the wild creature she undoubtedly was.

For a moment they stood there in silence, glad of the relief. Then Henri called:

“Let’s go! I’ll leave my wheel here. She’s going to the office.” Without a word, they rushed after him.

“I was afraid I’d drop the thermos,” Kay panted as they got over the briary underbrush as best they could.

“I thought of that too,” Cecy said. “Why not let her go? Why do we go after her?”

“I suppose Henri is thinking about the broken window. Maybe she intends to do more damage and blame it on us.”

“Oh, yes,” breathed Cecy, making sure the silk handkerchief the girl had fought for was deep in her pocket.

In a few more moments of fighting their way through bushes and briars, they were presently on the short strip of road that had been cleared around the real estate office.

“Look!” exclaimed Cecy. “She’s standing there as if she sees something——”

“Henri is doing the same thing and they’re not—fighting,” followed Kay. “They certainly must be seeing something.”

With a rush the two girls reached Henri and Mamie Johnson, who were still standing as if petrified in front of the little office.

“What—is—it?” But Kay’s question was useless, for they too saw what it was. The window was not broken! There it was, shining as ever in the late rays of a dying sunset.

“It’s—it’s—ain’t broke!” gasped Mamie, in genuine fear. “It was broke; I saw it.”

“That’s what you think,” flung back Henri. “Now will you quit acting like an Indian? Want some of that magic worked out on you?”

“No, no, I don’t,” cowered the girl. “The cat was in there and cats is bewitched. I’m goin’.”

“You better had,” Henri warned her, while Cecy and Kay just stood there, knowing more than they wanted to tell Mamie about that window. Henri, also, it appeared may have shared the secret.

“That tamed her,” laughed Kay.

“Yes; her kind are usually superstitious. Did you notice what she said about cats?” Cecy asked.

“Yeah,” Henri drawled. “I’ll bet she shut that cat in there herself.”

“Has she a key? How could she get in?” Cecy asked.

“Oh, she’s like a cat herself. She can get in any place. But what do you know about that window.” It was an exclamation not a question.

“Certainly that is like something magical,” Kay remarked, not wanting to mention who must have fixed the window so quickly and skillfully.

“I was here a couple of hours ago and it was smashed then. That was when Mamie fought me for the handkerchief,” Henri recounted. “But he’s like that. Can’t tell what he’ll do.”

The girls knew, of course, that Henri was talking about the hermit. He had promised them “he would fix it and no one would ever know it had been broken.” Well, it had happened and even Mamie Johnson, who surely knew it had been broken, must have her doubts about it now.

“But, Kay, I’ve got to go.” Cecy had glanced at her small wrist watch. “I promised Carol to get the children in and I’ve hardly got time——”

“There’s a bus coming ’round the curve,” the invaluable Henri called out. “If you cut down over Stump Hollow you’ll just get it.”

“But I hate to leave you, Kay——”

“Oh, I’ll go over to the hermit’s with her,” again spoke Henri. “I haven’t anything to do.”

“That will be fine, Henri,” Cecy praised him. “But be sure you don’t leave her in these woods alone,” she admonished.

“I won’t. Better hustle. There she comes.”

For a moment Kay watched her chum skip over the tree stumps from which the hollow took its name. It was a small clearance where young trees had been systematically cut down every few years, to keep the woodland from becoming too crowded.

“She’ll get it! See, it’s stopping!” Henri said.

“But, Henri, you don’t have to go over to the hermit’s with me,” Kay began. “You must have chores to do——”

“No, I haven’t. Wish I had some to do for someone who might pay me,” the boy explained. “This is a dead vacation; haven’t earned anything except from the hermit.”

“Oh, you do things for him, of course,” Kay quickly assured the boy she understood that. “But I can run over there——”

“And maybe have Mamie Johnson fly out at you? Better not. Why don’t you let me take the bottle over? And maybe we ought to hurry. It says ‘desperate,’ you know.”

“Yes, I’ve been thinking about that. All right, Henri. If you carry other messages to the hermit there’s no reason why you shouldn’t take this.” She handed him the thermos bottle that had dropped from the plane. “Of course, I’d like to know what he says,” Kay faltered. And wouldn’t she just?

“Oh, I’ll run back and tell you.” Henri was ready to dash off at once. “But you better come along with me down to the road. It’s safer,” Henri declared.

As they hurried along to the road from where Henri would go one way and Kay the other, Kay sort of kept her eyes speculatively upon the green thermos bottle, but Henri kept his hands firmly upon it.

What message would it bring to the hermit, both were wondering?

The Hermit of Proud Hill

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