The Seven Darlings

by Gouverneur Morris

  XIV

  To attempt the dangerous passage of a swamp when they might havereturned to camp in the guide boat was undoubtedly a most imbeciledecision. And if Phyllis had not been thoroughly flustered by the upset,which was all her fault, she never would have consented to it. As forHerring's voice in the matter, it was that which the young man alwaysgave when there was a question of adventure. He didn't get aroundmountains by the valley road. He climbed over them. He had not in hiswhole being a suspicion of what is dangerous. He had never been afraidof anything. He probably never would be. He would have enjoyed leadinghalf a dozen forlorn hopes every morning before breakfast.

  "We were idiots," said Phyllis, "to leave the boat."

  "We can't go back to it now," said Herring. "We don't know the way."

  "Your voice sounds as if you were glad of it."

  "I am. I was dreadfully afraid you'd decide against crossing thisswamp. I'd set my heart on it."

  "It isn't I," said Phyllis, "that's against our crossing this swamp.It's the swamp."

  "The main thing," said Herring, with satisfaction (physically he wasalmost exhausted), "is that here we are safe and sound. We don't knowwhere 'here' is, but it's with us, it won't run away. When we've restedwe shall go on, taking 'here' with us. Wherever we go is 'here.' Thinkof that!"

  "I wish I could think of something else," said Phyllis, "but I can't.I'm almost dead."

  "You are doing something that no girl has ever done before, not evenyour sisters, those princesses of fortune. Years from now, when youbegin, 'Once when I happened to be crossing the Swamp with a youngfellow named Herring--' they will have to sit silent and listen."

  "If you weren't so cheerful," said Phyllis, "I should have begun to cryan hour ago. Do you really think this is fun?"

  "Do I think it's fun? To be in a scrape--not to know when or how we aregoing to get out of it? You bet I think it's fun."

  "People have died," said Phyllis, "having just this sort of fun. Supposewe can't get out?"

  "You mean to-day? Perhaps we can't. Perhaps not to-morrow. Perhaps weshall have to learn how to live in a swamp. A month of the life we'veled for the last few hours might turn us into amphibians. That would beintensely novel and interesting. But, of course, when winter comes andthe place freezes over we can march right out and take up our orthodoxlives where we left off. Listen!"

  "What?"

  "I think I hear webs growing between my fingers and toes."

  Phyllis laughed so that the partially dried mud on her face cracked.

  "What," she said, "are we going to eat this side of winter? What are wegoing to eat now?"

  His face expressed immense concern.

  "What? You are hungry? Allow me!"

  He produced from his inside pocket a very large cake of sweet chocolate,wrapped in several thicknesses of oiled silk.

  "My one contribution," he said, "to the science of woodcraft."

  Phyllis ate and was refreshed. Afterward she washed all the mud from herface. Herring watched the progress of the ablution with much interest.

  "Wonderful!" he said presently.

  "What is wonderful?" she asked, not without anticipation of acompliment.

  "Wonderful to find that something which is generally accepted astrue--is true. To see it proved before your eyes."

  "What do you mean?"

  "I mean," he said, "that I never before actually saw a girl wash herface. I've seen 'em when they said they were going to. I've seen 'emwhen they said they just had. But now I know."

  "If you weren't quite mad," said Phyllis, "you'd be very exasperating.Here am I, frightened half to death, cold and miserable, and dreadfullyworried to think how worried my family must be, and there are you,almost too tired to stand, actually delighted with yourself, becauseyou're in trouble and because for the first time in your life you'veseen a girl wash her face. Can't you be serious about anything?"

  "Not about a half-drowned girl taking the trouble to wash her face," hesaid.

  "You," said she, "would look much better if you washed yours."

  "But," he said, "we'll be covered with mud again before we've gone fiftyyards."

  "Because you are going into a coal mine to-morrow," said Phyllis, "isno reason why you shouldn't be clean to-day."

  "True," said Herring, and he washed his face.

  * * * * *

  At breakfast that morning Pritchard received the following cablegram:

  Come home and shake hands. I'm off. M.

  Greatly moved, he carried it to Gay, and without comment put it in herhand.

  "Who is M?" she asked.

  "My uncle, the Earl of Merrivale."

  "What does _I'm off_ mean?"

  "It means," said Pritchard, "that they've given him up, and he wants tomake friends. He never liked my father or me."

  "It means," said Gay generously, "that you are going away?"

  "Yes," he said, "at once. But it means more. It means that I've got tofind out if I'm--to come back some time?"

  "Of course, you are to come back," she said.

  Words rose swiftly to Pritchard's lips and came no further. Indeed, heappeared to swallow them.

  "And I'm glad you are going to make friends with your uncle," said Gay.

  "There'll be such lots of young men here when the season opens," saidPritchard.

  "Judging by applications," said Gay, "we shall be swamped with gentlemenof all ages."

  Pritchard's melancholy only deepened. "Will you come as far as Carrytownin the _Streak_?" he asked.

  She nodded, and said she would because she had some shopping to do.

  During that short, exhilarating rush across the lake, and afterwardwalking up and down on the board platform by the side of the waitingtrain, he tried his best to ring a little sentiment out of her, butfailed utterly.

  The locomotive whistled, and the conductor came out of the villagedrug-store, staggering slightly.

  "I've left all my dry-fly tackle," said Pritchard. "Will _you_ take careof it for me?"

  "With pleasure," said Gay.

  "I'd like you to use it. It's a lovely rod to throw line."

  "All aboard!"

  "I'd like to bring you out some rods and things. May I?"

  "You bet you may!" exclaimed Gay.

  Pritchard sighed. The train creaked, jolted, moved forward, stopped,jerked, and moved forward again. Pritchard waited until the rear stepsof the rear car were about to pass.

  "Good-by, Miss Gay!"

  They shook hands firmly, and Pritchard swung himself onto the movingtrain. Gay, walking rapidly and presently breaking into a trot,accompanied him as far as the end of the platform. She wanted to saysomething that would please him very much without encouraging him toomuch.

  "Looks as if I was after you!" she said.

  Pritchard's whole soul was in his eyes. And there was a large lump inhis throat. Suddenly Gay reached the end of the long platform andstopped running. The train was now going quite fast for an Adirondacktrain. The distance between them widened rapidly.

  "Wish you weren't going," called Gay.

  And she saw Pritchard reach suddenly upward and pull the rope by whichtrains are stopped in emergencies. While the train was stopping and thetrain hands were trying to find out who had stopped it and why,Pritchard calmly alighted, and returned to where Gay was standing.

  "I just had to look at you once more--close," he said; "you never cantell what will happen in this world. I may never see you again, and thethought is killing me. Think of that once in a while, please."

  He bent swiftly, caught her hand in his, kissed it, and was gone. Or, ifnot exactly gone, she saw him no more, because of suddenly blindingtears.

  When she reached The Camp, Arthur was at the float to meet her.

  "Phyllis and Herring haven't come back," he said. "Lee says they wentfishing. Do you know where they went?"

  "I don't. And they ought to have been back hours ago."

  "Yes," said Arthur
, "and we're all starting out to look for them. Careto come with me?"

  "Yes," she said; "I've got to do _something_."

  Something in her voice took his mind from the more imminent matter.

  "What's wrong, Gay?"

  She shook her head.

  "Nothing. Let's start. If Phyl rowed, they must have gone to the nearestpossible fishing grounds."

  At this moment Sam Langham came puffing down from Cook House. He wasdressed in white flannels and carried a revolver.

  "It's to signal with," he explained. "I'm going to try Loon Brook,because it's the only brook I know when I see it."

  "Bullard's gone to Loon Brook."

  "Pshaw--can't I ever be of any use!"

  "Good Lord," said Gay, "look!"

  There came around the nearest bend a man rowing one guide boat andtowing another, which was empty. Arthur called to him in a loud, hoarsevoice:

  "Where'd you find that boat?"

  "Up Swamp Brook," came the answer.

  Arthur and Gay went gray as ashes.

  "Who's to tell Mary?" said Arthur presently.

  Then Sam Langham spoke.

  "If you don't mind," he said, "I think I will."

  An hour later the entire male population of The Camp was dragging SwampBrook for what they so dreaded to find.