Emily and Jackson Hiding Out

by Phyllis Reynolds Naylor

  “Well, get them, then,” Uncle Victor growled. “But Emily stays here, in case you decide to run out on me.” And he thrust the shovel into the hard-packed ground and began to dig.

  Thumpa-thumpa-thumpa went Emily’s heart as Jackson went back up the steps and out into the sunlight. She knew that Jackson was up to something, but she didn’t know what. They lived too far out to go for help or to get to a neighbor’s in time.

  Pretty soon she could hear the clank of garden tools getting louder as Jackson returned from the barn. Uncle Victor was sweating in the long black dress as the pile of dirt beside him grew higher and higher and the hole deeper and deeper.

  When Jackson got to the open door of the storm cellar, he called, “Coming down!”

  But when Uncle Victor moved over to give Jackson room at the bottom of the steps, Emily rushed up them instead, and in a flash, the children banged the door of the storm cellar shut, then latched the metal lock.

  When Uncle Victor roared from below, they sat down on top of the door, just to be on the safe side. Uncle Victor bellowed and cussed and banged against the door, but Emily and Jackson never budged.

  If that wasn’t the craziest noise they had ever heard: Uncle Victor roaring, Spook barking, the shovel banging, even the chickens starting to fret out in the henhouse.

  Just at that moment Spook’s barking turned to happy little yips. Far off down the lane, Aunt Hilda’s wagon was rolling through the gate. Old Billy trotted with his head down, pulling the wagon full of things from the market.

  “Hooray!” Emily and Jackson shouted, but they didn’t get off the storm cellar door.

  A few minutes later, Aunt Hilda pulled up beside the cottage. There was no sound at all from the cellar.

  “What’s all this?” she asked, looking at the two children sitting there on the cellar door, holding the spade and the hoe.

  “Well,” said Jackson, “it’s been a wild day.”

  “How so?” asked Aunt Hilda.

  “First of all, that widow woman you’ve seen in town was begging at our gate,” Emily told her.

  “Poor dear soul,” Aunt Hilda said, getting down off the wagon. “I hope you gave her some water and something to eat.”

  “Oh, we brought her here to the house to rest up,” said Jackson.

  “I’m proud of you,” said Aunt Hilda.

  “Then we gave her some lunch,” said Emily.

  “That was a kind thing to do,” said her aunt.

  “Then we took her down to the creek and she fell in,” said Jackson.

  “What?” said Aunt Hilda, turning and staring at him.

  “And we took her through the flower garden and the rosebushes tore her dress,” said Emily.

  Aunt Hilda gasped. “Why on earth …?”

  “And when we took her to the barn, she got stuck by a pitchfork,” said Jackson.

  “What a terrible thing to do to a poor widow woman!” cried Aunt Hilda. “What got into you children?”

  “And now we’ve got her trapped here in the cellar and won’t let her out till you say so,” said Emily.

  “Hilda!” bellowed Uncle Victor from the darkness beneath the door. “Get those blasted kids off this door and let me out.”

  “Victor!” cried Aunt Hilda. And then, to the children, she said, “Don’t move.”

  She went into the house, and when she came out again, she had the fireplace poker in her hand.

  “All right,” she told Emily and Jackson. “Open it up.”

  When Uncle Victor came out in the wet black dress, his face was as red as a raspberry, and he was dripping sweat.

  “Victor,” Aunt Hilda said, “if you aren’t the darnedest sight I’ve ever seen. You’ve got about one minute to get yourself down the lane, out the gate, and up the road before I take this poker to you. And if you ever set foot on my land again, you’ll be sorry, don’t think you won’t.” Then she looked down at the dog. “Show him out, Spook,” she said.

  This time Spook didn’t just bark and nip. With a growl, he lunged at Uncle Victor’s chest, and Uncle Victor took off at a run, holding his skirts up to keep from tripping. Spook was right on his heels, tearing at the dress. Aunt Hilda waited until Emily’s uncle had reached the gate, and then she laughed so hard her shoulders shook.

  Finally, when she had caught her breath, she said, “Now, that is about the funniest thing I’ve seen since the rooster got his head stuck in a piece of watermelon. I hope his shirt and britches are hid somewhere close by. Without his hat and veil, he’d sure be a sight, wearing that dress all the way back into town.”

  Emily laughed a little too, but she asked, “What if Uncle Victor comes back?”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t worry,” said her aunt. “I don’t think he’ll try that for a while.”

  Aunt Hilda was surely proud of her two young’uns.

  “You did exactly the right thing,” she told them again the next morning. “That old weasel Victor is lucky we didn’t leave him in the storm cellar a day or two just to reflect on his own miserable self. After you finish your chores for the morning, you two run off and play. I won’t need you again till supper.”

  So Jackson and Emily did just that. They swung on the swing and waded in the creek. And then, as the afternoon grew a little cooler, they decided to play hide-and-seek, and Jackson said he’d be it.

  Emily loved hide-and-seek because there were so many wonderful places to hide on Aunt Hilda’s land. While Jackson was counting to one hundred slowly by fives, Emily set off away from the house and barn, because some of the doors squeaked when they were opened, and that would give her hiding place away.

  There was a big old elm tree deep in the woods with a grassy place beneath it—the perfect place to rest a bit and hide. She climbed the fence at the back of the yard and carefully made her way through the brush, trying not to break a twig or crunch dry leaves.

  “Spook! Go home!” she whispered when she discovered the black dog tagging along after her, but he liked the game as well as anyone, especially the part where Jackson would shout, “I spy Emily!” and then everyone, including Spook, would race back to home base.

  Emily had just about reached the elm tree when Spook suddenly stopped and growled. And at that very minute, Emily felt four big fingers and a thumb wrap themselves over her mouth from behind. The fingers belonged to a big old hand, the hand was attached to a big old arm, and on that arm was a tiger tattoo.

  Spook snapped and growled at the tiger man, who rapidly taped Emily’s mouth shut and tied her hands behind her back, despite her squirming and kicking. Spook kept barking and nipping while Uncle Victor stuffed her into a big burlap bag. Then there came a terrible yelp, and Emily cringed as she heard Uncle Victor’s boot connect with the little dog.

  “That should take care of you, you stupid mutt,” Victor snarled, slinging the bag over his shoulder and setting off quickly. Emily kicked and squirmed some more, but it did no good, and now she was bouncing up and down, her arms and legs all squished together.

  How long had Uncle Victor been hiding in the woods, waiting to grab her? she wondered. Where was he going, and why was he in such a hurry?

  Spook was still barking, but from some distance behind them, not wanting another kick. After a while Emily heard her uncle panting and felt him slowing down. Finally he stopped completely and dropped the bag on the ground with a thump. Luckily, Emily landed on her bottom.

  “If I had the time, I’d stop that fool dog’s barking once and for all,” he said. “I’m tired of waiting for that money, Emily Wiggins. You’ve got ten million dollars sitting in the bank, and I want some of it. While your aunt was out in the potato field this afternoon, I slipped a ransom note under her door. Told her if she ever expects to see you alive again, she’ll turn over half that money to me.”

  Inside the burlap bag, Emily shivered. She knew that her aunt Hilda loved her so much she would give Uncle Victor all the money just to have Emily back again. And that was probably what Uncle Victor wou
ld demand. After he got half the money, he would say he’d changed his mind and wanted the whole ten million.

  I’m not worried, she told herself. Aunt Hilda will find me.

  But as if he could read her thoughts, Uncle Victor picked up the bag and slung it over his shoulder again. Then he said, “Where I’m taking you, she’ll never think to look. And I told her in that note that if she tells the law, she’ll never see you again.”

  Emily knew that he meant what he said. Uncle Victor had never liked children, especially not Emily. He was walking fast again now, as though in a great hurry. Where could he possibly be taking her, where Aunt Hilda would never look? Spook’s barking and yipping seemed farther behind than ever.

  Long after the barking had faded away, Emily sensed that her uncle was slowing down again, and then she heard another sound: somewhere a calliope was playing—that happy organlike instrument that made music on showboats traveling up and down the river.

  There were no showboats where Aunt Hilda lived, however. The closest one was on the Cottonwood River, several miles away. Aunt Hilda had promised that sometime before the summer was over, she and Emily and Jackson would all pile into the wagon and go see a show. But that would never happen now.

  The music grew louder and louder. Thud, thud went Uncle Victor’s boots on some wooden planks.

  The burlap bag was swinging and swaying, back and forth, back and forth, and now it seemed to Emily that her uncle was going down a long flight of stairs. The calliope music grew fainter and the noise of an engine grew louder. Then Uncle Victor dropped the bag to the floor. Emily heard a door close, and knew they were probably in a room somewhere at the very bottom of a large boat.

  The small opening at the top of the bag grew wider and wider, and then Emily saw Uncle Victor’s evil eyes peering down at her.

  “Okay, you useless brat,” Victor said. “Here’s the deal. Your aunt should have read the ransom note by now. She has all day tomorrow to get the money out of the bank. Tonight the showboat travels downriver, playing its music and advertising its show, which will play back here at Cottonwood Junction tomorrow. The boat doesn’t stop till it gets back here, so there’s no chance for you to run off. If you’re quiet and don’t call out, I’ll come in every so often to give you crackers and water.”

  Crackers and water? thought Emily. What about air to breathe? A chance to stretch her legs? A place to go to the bathroom?

  Uncle Victor was talking again. “But in case you’re thinking of getting loose and going for help, I’m telling the captain I’m a private inspector, assigned to capture some thievin’ kids who have been hiding out on showboats and picking the pockets of the customers. Any kids they find aboard, they’re to turn over to me. You get out of this bag and make any trouble, I’ll catch you, put a weight in the bag with you, and drop you to the bottom of the river faster’n you can squeal. So if you know what’s good for you and you want to see your aunt Hilda again, you’ll stay quiet and wait till she hands over the money. She knows just where to put it. I’ll check that old hollow tree when the boat goes back upriver.”

  And with that, he pulled the cords at the top of the bag tight together again, and through the small round opening, Emily watched his fingers tying a big knot. At the same moment, the showboat whistle gave two toots, the engine noise grew louder, and the boat left the landing and was on its way down the Cottonwood River.

  Emily heard the door open and close again, and then Uncle Victor was gone. The only noise left was the engine and the low whir of the paddlewheel as it propelled the boat through the water.

  Thumpa-thumpa-thumpa went Emily’s heart. Her hands were still tightly tied together behind her body, but she found that she had just enough room to twist and turn and wiggle and waggle to get one hand loose. Then it was easy to loosen the other hand and take the tape off her mouth.

  The opening at the top of the burlap bag, however, was too small to get her arm through. Even if she yelled as loudly as she could, no one would hear above the noise of the engine, and they wouldn’t believe her anyway, not with Uncle Victor telling his lies. No, Emily thought. She would stay right where she was for now and try to calm down so she could think what to do next.

  Suddenly she heard the soft click of the door opening again, and wondered if Uncle Victor had come back. There was no sound of a man’s footsteps on the floor, however. In fact, there were no footsteps at all, but something poked her gently on one side of the bag.

  Emily froze. Was it someone who was curious about what was in the bag? Was one of the sailors about to discover her and turn her over to the captain? Something poked her again, and Emily heard muffled snuffles and pants and felt something climbing on top of the bag.

  “Spook?” Emily whispered. “Oh, Spook! How did you get in here?”

  Then she heard Jackson’s loud whisper.

  “Emily?” His face was close to the opening at the top of the bag. “We got on at the last minute and hid in a barrel outside the door when your uncle dumped you in here. He’s gone to look for the captain, and I heard what he’s going to tell him.”

  “Oh, Jackson! How did you know Uncle Victor got me?”

  “I was still looking for you in the woods and heard Spook barking, so I figured he knew your hiding place. When I saw your uncle with that big bag over his shoulder and Spook barking at him, I figured it out pretty quick and followed him here.”

  “Can you get me out?” Emily asked.

  “I’m working on the knot, but it’s tight,” Jackson said.

  Just then, they heard heavy footsteps in the hall outside. Jackson grabbed Spook and covered his muzzle so he couldn’t bark. The doorknob rattled and the door started to open, then stopped. Uncle Victor and the captain were talking right outside.

  “Much obliged, Captain,” Uncle Victor was saying. “I’ll keep a sharp eye out for any lying, thieving children. If a certain girl’s aboard, she’s a crafty one. She’s been known to steal a diamond right off a lady’s finger.”

  “Come on up and have a drink with me in the pilothouse,” the captain said. “It’s a nice night out there, and we’re glad to have you aboard.”

  “Indeed I will,” Uncle Victor answered, and Emily and Jackson breathed easier as the door closed all the way and Uncle Victor and the captain went back down the hall.

  “Listen, Emily,” Jackson said as his fingers worked hard to untie the knot that held the bag closed. “We’ve got to get a message to Aunt Hilda. I heard Victor tell you he’d left a ransom note for her. Even if she somehow traced him to the river’s edge, she’d never know where he went next. Victor must have known the showboat’s schedule and had it all planned.”

  “We could jump overboard and swim to shore,” Emily suggested.

  Jackson shook his head. “Too dangerous. Someone would try to rescue us and we’d be turned right over to Uncle Victor.”

  “Can’t you get that knot untied?” Emily asked, impatient to be let out.

  “It’s really tight,” Jackson said as Spook poked his nose in the hole, making the job even more difficult.

  “Where are we on the ship?” Emily asked as Jackson continued to work.

  “Some kind of a dusty storeroom with a porthole. Some boxes, some supplies, and a pile of flyers advertising the next show,” Jackson answered.

  “If the boat would just stop someplace—anyplace—we could sneak off and find our way back home,” Emily said. “Is it true that the boat will go down the river a ways and turn around, but won’t stop till it’s back at Cottonwood Junction?”

  “It’s true,” said Jackson, “and that won’t be till tomorrow. By then your aunt will have the money, and she’ll turn it over to Victor the minute we land.”

  Suddenly Jackson’s fingers stopped working at the knot. “Listen! I have an idea!”

  This time he thrust his skinny hand through the small opening, twisting and turning it this way and that until he could reach Emily’s hair.

  “Ouch!” she said as he t
ugged at her ribbon.

  “Sorry,” he said. “I’m going to wrap this up in one of those flyers about the show, put it in Spook’s mouth, tell him to go to Aunt Hilda, and drop him overboard. But I’ve got to hurry before we get too far away.”

  “But Jackson, can he make it?” Emily cried.

  “He’s a better swimmer than I am,” Jackson said.

  Emily heard paper being folded, and then Spook’s panting as he took the paper in his mouth.

  “Good dog! Good Spook!” Jackson said, and Emily heard the door open and close again as her friend went out. Then all was still.

  Jackson came back to tell Emily that he had dropped Spook in the water at the boat’s stern. No one had noticed because all of the passengers had been at the bow of the boat when it set off. The last he had seen of the black dog, Spook was swimming toward shore with the folded flyer in his mouth, Emily’s hair ribbon tucked inside.

  “The minute Uncle Victor finds me gone, he’ll have the whole boat looking for me,” Emily said. “Jackson, what am I going to do?”

  But Jackson was hard at work on the knot again, and finally—finally—it came undone. Emily—her dress all wrinkled and her hair quite messed up—climbed out of the bag, stretching her cramped arms and legs.

  “We’ve got to get out of here first; then we’ll think about where to hide,” Jackson said, opening the door a crack and peeking into the hallway. “Nobody here just yet. Come on.”

  They had only gone a short way down the dark corridor, however, when they heard footsteps coming down the stairs. Jackson pulled Emily into a toilet compartment just big enough for one person—An indoor outhouse, Emily thought. They squeezed themselves in so tight they could scarcely close the door behind them. In fact, they couldn’t get it closed all the way, so they had to leave it open an inch or two. They were glad it was so dark inside.

  Uncle Victor walked by just then, a swagger to his step.

  “Must be comin’ up in the world,” he was saying to himself. “Havin’ drinks with the captain! Who would have thought? I get me some of Emily’s money, I’ll take myself on a long boat trip, finest room they’ve got. I’ll travel up and down the Mississippi River, maybe. Wonder if the old lady’s read that ransom note yet.”