The Girl from the Big Horn Country

by Mary Ellen Chase

  CHAPTER XIX

  THE SENIOR PAGEANT

  Commencement came with hurrying feet, showing little regard forSeniors, who daily visited the old haunts, grown so dear to them, andhourly hated worse the thought of leaving St. Helen's. Every spotseemed dearer than ever before--the cottages, which had been theirhomes, the Retreat, filled with the memories of chapel and vespers,every path in the woods, every spot where certain flowers grew. Itwould be hard to leave them all; but far harder to say good-by to oneanother, and to the teachers and girls who were to return; for, asAnne said on every possible occasion, "There's no use talking! Itnever will seem the same again!" So in all the festivities of theclosing days there was a sadness--a strange hollow feeling in one'sbody, a lump which often came unexpectedly into one's throat.

  To Virginia, this season of her first Commencement was one ofconflicting emotions. She was torn between a joy in the perfect Junedays, and a sorrow that they must soon come to an end; between thehappy anticipation of seeing her father, who, with her grandmother andAunt Nan, was to be at St. Helen's for the closing week, and the sadrealization that St. Helen's would never seem the same without theSeniors, and that The Hermitage would be a sadly different placewithout Mary and Anne.

  She found studying during those last few weeks the most difficultthing in the world; and had it not been for the cup competitionbetween Hathaway and The Hermitage, which was daily growing moreclose, she, like many of the others, would have been sorely tempted totake a vacation. It would be so much more "vital," she said toherself, and ten times more appropriate, to close her geometry andwalk through the woods with Priscilla, or sit in Mary's room, and planfor the wonderful days to come; for Mrs. Williams had "found a way,"and Jack and Mary were actually to spend the month of August inWyoming with Virginia and Donald. The trip was to be theirCommencement gift, for Jack was likewise graduating that year from theStanford School. "It's too good to be true," Virginia kept saying toherself, "it's too good to be true," and deep in her heart she hopedand hoped that Mr. and Mrs. Winthrop might consent to Priscilla'sgoing also. They had said they would "think about it," and that, soPriscilla said, was a hopeful sign.

  As she bent over her geometry, preparing for the final examination,there would come before her eyes in place of circles and triangles andparallelograms, visions of sunny August days riding over thefoothills, and starlit August nights about a camp-fire in the canyon.It would be such fun for her and Don to show Mary and Jack all theloveliest places in their country. And she would teach Mary toshoot--Mary, who had never in her life held a rifle! Oh, if only theother Vigilantes might come! But she knew that Dorothy was to be inCalifornia with her father; and as to Vivian, Virginia could somehoweasily picture the horror on timid Mrs. Winter's face at the thoughtof Vivian shooting and camping in a canyon! But this was not masteringgeometry, and there was the cup! The Hermitage must win it fromHathaway, and the winning or the losing depended upon the success orfailure of each one. So, banishing dreams, she went to work again.

  There were but ten days more. Already it was examination week; alreadymany of the traditional ceremonies and closing occasions had takenplace. The Juniors had "picnicked" the Seniors, and the Seniors theJuniors; the cottage tennis finals had been played off, Overlookwinning the doubles, and Bess Shepard being proclaimed the champion inthe ensuing singles; the Senior ivy had been planted against the wallof the Retreat, and the old trowel presented with fitting remarks tothe Junior president. By the cottages the Senior occupants had eachplanted her own slip of ivy, her name placed in a securely corkedbottle, and buried beneath the roots of her plant. Thus in our ownminds do we become immortal!

  But the occasion upon which all thoughts were centered, and towardwhich all energies were bent, was the Senior Pageant, to be held onTuesday afternoon of the closing week. On preceding Commencements, anout-of-door play had been the choice of the graduating class; but thisyear the Seniors, who had been throughout their four years unusuallyinterested in History, had determined to give in place of the play aHistorical Pageant. Each was to represent some character of History,legendary or ancient, mediaeval or modern, design and make her owncostume, and dramatize the certain scene or scenes which she hadchosen to portray. The Juniors and members of the lower classes,though not of importance as prominent characters, were yet ofindispensable value as retainers, henchmen, pages, and the like.

  "In fact," said the Blackmore twins, who were the blindfoldedheadsmen, leading the procession of the doomed Mary Stuart to theblock; "in fact, we may not seem very important, but we're the settingand they couldn't do without us!"

  For weeks, even for months, they had been making preparations andholding rehearsals. The place chosen for the pageant was the levelstrip of meadow south of the campus. Directly back of it lay theRetreat woods, which were very convenient for the disappearance of thecharacters when their parts were finished, and especially so forMartin Luther, who had to nail his ninety-five theses on the door ofthe Retreat. On the left the road led to St. Helen's; on the rightstretched more woodland; while immediately in front of the groundchosen for the performance, a gently sloping hillside formed asplendid amphitheater from which the audience was to view the pageant.Nature had surely done her best to provide an ideal situation; and thegirls were going to try to do as well.

  Virginia had found her services in great demand, and she was glad andproud to give them. Anne had determined to be her beloved Joan of Arc,and had planned to appear in three scenes--in the forest of Domremy,where she listened to the voices; in the company of the old villagepriest, with whom she talked of her visions; and finally on thejourney toward the Dauphin, whom she was to recognize among hiscourtiers. In the last scene a horse was necessary, for Joan, clad inarmor, rode, accompanied by the old priest and two knights. Also, theBlack Prince clamored for a war-horse; Augustus said he never could beaugust without one; and Roland refused to die in the Pass ofRoncesvalles, unless he could first fall from his panting steed!Matters early in the spring having come to a halt over the horseproblem, Miss King was consulted, and upon Virginia's assurance, ablyseconded by that of Mr. Hanly, that Napoleon would be a perfectly safeaddition to the troupe, his services were engaged for rehearsals andfinal performance alike, and he was installed in St. Helen's stable,so as to be on hand whenever desired.

  Joan, never having been on a horse before, though born and bred in theSouth, needed considerable instruction, as did the other equestrianactresses; and Virginia found herself installed as riding-mistress fora good many hours each week. Napoleon did not seem averse to his partin the pageant, though sometimes he shook his head disdainfully whenthe Black Prince strapped some armor over it, and objected slightly tothe trappings which Augustus felt necessary for his successful entryinto Rome. Virginia's saddle, bedecked for the occasion, was foundadequate for all the riders; and after many, many attempts, followedby very frank criticisms from the riding-mistress, most of theperformers could mount and dismount with something resembling ease.Virginia, knowing well Napoleon's variety of gaits, did not hope forequestrianism on the part of the riders. If they could only get onsafely, sit fairly straight, and get off without catching their feetor clothing, she would rest content; and though Roland and the BlackPrince were determined to use their spurs and come out from the foreston the gallop, Virginia, having raised them from the ground after twoof these disastrous attempts, urged them with all her might to allowNapoleon to walk, which he was very glad to do.

  But Joan, it must be admitted, found her last act a trying one. Thoughshe mounted in the recesses of the forest, and could have all theassistance she needed, to ride before the audience, holding her spearaloft in one hand, and driving with the other was well-nighimpossible, especially when she longed to grasp the saddle-horn; andlastly, to dismount safely, without catching on some part of thatfearful saddle and irretrievably loosening her armor, was an act shefeared and dreaded day and night.

  "Oh, why did I choose to be Joan!" she cried, as Virginia, at aprivate rehearsal, raised her from
the ground after at least thetwentieth attempt to dismount. "I just can't do it!"

  "Yes, you can," encouraged her instructor, who, when occasiondemanded, coached the dramatic appearance as well as the equestrian."You're beautiful when you hear the voices in the forest, and when youtalk with the old priest, you're thrilling! Only, I do wish Lucilewould be more priestly. Of course, she speaks French wonderfully, butshe isn't one bit like a priest. It's too bad, when you're sowonderful in that scene."

  "Well, you see, she didn't want to be the priest, anyway. She wantedto be the Black Prince's sweetheart."

  "He didn't have a sweetheart, did he?"

  "I don't know. It doesn't seem as though he would at seventeen. Butshe wanted him to, anyway, and say farewell to her in England."

  "She does make me sick! Now, Anne, I've just one criticism. You'regoing to learn to dismount all right; but if you'd only look lessscared when you ride toward the Dauphin! You know you ought to looksoulful, as though you were seeing a distant vision, but you don't.You look frightened to death."

  "Then I look just the way I feel, Virginia. I'd rather ride anelephant than that Napoleon. I am scared of him, and I may as welladmit it. He's the most terrorizing animal I've ever known!" Andnothing that Napoleon's trainer could say as to his harmlessness andeven amicability of disposition, could convince the trembling Joan,who, in perseverance and fear, still continued to make herselfdismount.

  But when the last Saturday came, all difficulties seemed overcome.Joan had actually dismounted successfully half a dozen times; theBlack Prince had, after all, decided that he was more impressive whenhis charger walked; and Queen Elizabeth had ridden three times in hercarriage, borne by eight staggering retainers, without its oncebreaking down. No more rehearsals were to be held until the final oneon Tuesday morning; and costumes were packed away, while Napoleongratefully munched his oats in St. Helen's stable, and wondered at theunaccustomed respite he was enjoying.

  On that Saturday came Virginia's father with her Grandmother Websterand Aunt Nan. She had never been so happy in her life, she thought, asshe walked excitedly up and down the platform, and waited for thetrain. Would her father find her much changed, she wondered, and wouldhe look the same? Never before in their lives had they been separated,and nine months seemed a very long time. His letter of yesterday hadbeen written from Vermont where he had visited a week, and where, hetold her, he had been very happy. And her grandmother had alsowritten, saying how much they were enjoying him. She was so glad, shesaid to herself, as the train whistled in the distance--so thankfulthat at last Grandmother Webster was beginning to appreciate herfather. If it were really true, she simply couldn't be any happier.

  It was really true! Of that she was assured. For after her father hadjumped from the train to hold his little daughter close in his armsfor a moment, he had turned to help her grandmother, who was justalighting, and whom, to Virginia's great joy, he called "Mother." Thenher grandmother kissed her, and said to her father, "John, hasn't shegrown?"; and jolly Aunt Nan, who came up in the rear, hugged her hard,and said in the most understanding kind of way, "Now this whole familyis together at last!" Finally, as if to add the finishing touch andmake everything complete, Grandmother Webster, after she and Aunt Nanhad greeted Miss King, who stood on the platform, said, "And I think,years ago, you met my son, Virginia's father."

  The next three days were like the perfect realization of a dream. "Thewhole family" roamed together about the campus; listened to thefarewell sermon, which the white-haired bishop gave on Sunday morningin the chapel, and the last vesper service, at which every one cried;heard the Senior essays on Monday afternoon; and attended Miss King'sreception on Monday evening. It seemed like a great family reunionwith all the fathers and mothers, brothers and sisters; and it took notime at all for everybody to become acquainted with everybody else.Virginia proudly introduced her father to all the girls; and it wasnot long before the four Vigilantes and their adviser were listeningto tales of the real Vigilante days.

  "And I hope you'll every one come to Wyoming for August," he saidgenially, "You'll be well-chaperoned, for Virginia's Aunt Nan iscoming, and there's room and a welcome for all."

  That night Priscilla, before they went to sleep, confided her hopes toVirginia.

  "I saw mother and dad talking with your father and Aunt Nan to-night,when we were helping serve," she whispered, "and I know they weretalking about it! Oh, Virginia, do you really suppose I'll be there?"

  "I'm thinking on it every minute I have," came back the whisperedanswer. "Aunt Nan's going will make a big difference; and some way Ijust know you're coming, Priscilla!"

  Tuesday dawned beautifully, setting at rest many anxious hearts, whichhad bade their owners rise from bed at intervals during the night tostudy the heavens. At ten o'clock a strictly private dress rehearsalwas held on the meadow. Virginia, who was one of Queen Elizabeth'spages, ran about in doublet and hose, and directed those who rodeNapoleon. Everything went along with perfect smoothness. MartinLuther, who was Mary, nailed his theses with resounding strokes uponthe church door, and then in a fiery and original Latin orationdenounced the sale of "Indulgences "; and Mary, Queen of Scots, wasled to execution, without the headsmen giggling, as they hadinvariably done on every other occasion. Miss Allan, the Historyteacher, declared herself delighted.

  "It's perfect!" she said enthusiastically. "Now you may go where youlike, except those in the last Joan of Arc scene. I want you to trythat dismounting again, Anne, and don't let your voice tremble whenyou address the Dauphin."

  "My voice will tremble until I say good-by to Napoleon forever,"thought Anne to herself as she mounted in the woods, and rode out onthe meadow, preceded by her priest, and followed by two retainers, whokept at a very respectful distance from Napoleon's heels. She drewnear the Dauphin and his assembled court, halted her steed, andprepared to dismount. But, in some way, she lost her balance, and fellto the ground, her left foot caught in the stirrup. Had Napoleon movedit might have been a serious happening; but he stood calmly lookingon, even before Virginia had grasped his bridle. Then Miss Allanreleased Anne's foot, while the Dauphin and his court sympathized.

  Anne had wrenched her ankle, and could not mount Napoleon again. Thatwas certain. It was possible for her to perform her first and secondacts, for in the first she did not walk about at all, and the scenewith the priest required but a few steps. But the last was, under thecircumstances, utterly impossible, and, unless a substitute could befound, must be omitted.

  Poor Joan sat on the ground and tried to smile, while Miss Allanrubbed her aching ankle.

  "I think it's really providential," she said, "because I'd have beensure to fall this afternoon. Virginia can do my last part splendidly.My costume will fit her all right, and I'm quite content with hearingthe voices and talking with the priest. You'll do it, won't you,Virginia?"

  "Why, of course, I will, if Miss Allan thinks best. My French isn'tlike yours, Anne. Oh, I'm so sorry it happened!"

  "Well, it's fortunate we have you, Virginia," said Miss Allan. "Youknow the part perfectly, and your pronunciation will have to do.Besides, you ride well enough to make up for it."

  Joan was lifted on Napoleon, where, having no spear to carry and bothhands free to clutch the saddle, she felt quite fearless, especiallysince Virginia led her steed; and, followed by a train of sympatheticcourtiers, was carried to The Hermitage, where her ankle, which wasnot badly hurt, was carefully bandaged. Meanwhile, Virginia, raisedall at once to the dignity of a Senior, rehearsed her lines, and triedwith the help of Lucile to pronounce the impossible French syllables.

  By three o'clock that afternoon the hillside amphitheater was crowdedwith guests, the number of relatives and friends being increased bymany Hillcrest residents, who never failed to enjoy the Commencement"doings." Prominent among those who awaited appearance of the pageant,was a tall, soldierly-looking gentleman, who sat beside Virginia'sfather, and seemed to enjoy talking of a certain little girl, withwhom he had journeyed East nine m
onths before. Every now and then hebestowed proud glances upon his grandson, who had accompanied him, andwho had already found in Jack Williams a pleasant companion.

  "I couldn't resist bringing my grandson to meet Miss Virginia," theold gentleman explained, "and I'm doubly glad I did come, for I'mdelighted to meet her father."

  Virginia's father evidently enjoyed Colonel Standish, for they foundmany subjects of conversation, and talked until a herald, clad incrimson and white, the Senior colors, appeared from the forest, andblowing a trumpet, announced in quaint language that the pageant wasabout to begin:

  "Lords and ladies, passing fair, I would now to you declare That before your very eyes Those from out the past arise."

  The first to arise from out the shadowy past were Hector andAndromache, clad in Trojan costumes. In Homer's tongue they bade eachother farewell, while Andromache lifted her infant son (the janitor'sbaby, borrowed for the occasion) to kiss his fierce father, armed withhelmet, shield, and spear, before he should go out to fight the greatAchilles. True to the Homeric legend, the baby cried in fright, andwas hurriedly returned to the janitor's wife, who waited in the shadowof the trees. Demosthenes hurled in good Greek a "philippic" againstthe Macedonian King, and Cicero cursed Cataline in fiery Latin. Thenfollowed the great Augustus, who sat upon the much-bedecked Napoleonand gloried in his triumph; Roland, who fell gallantly from his steedin the Pass of Roncesvalles, blowing his horn with his last breath towarn the soldiers of Charlemagne of his disaster; and the BlackPrince, who, on his way to Crecy, paused to give an oration on thevalor of the English.

  Now it was time for Joan of Arc, who, her peasant robes covering herbandaged ankle, sat in the forests of Domremy, and with sweet,up-turned face listened to the voices of angels. Convinced that shehad a mission to perform, she sought the old priest as he walked oneday in the forest, and told him of her visions; but he, in perfectthough rather halfhearted French, discouraged her, and sent her hometo help her mother in the kitchen. A year passed, and Joan having atlast convinced the priest and the governor of Domremy, was allowed toproceed to the Dauphin, and declare her message from God.

  In the last scene, a new Joan, clad in a shining helmet, a suit ofarmor, and bearing a shield and spear, rode from the wood into themeadow. She sat her horse like a knight of old, holding her reins inher left hand, on which arm she bore her shield, and in her right handbearing her spear aloft. In her gray eyes was the memory of theDomremy visions; on her face the determination to save her country.Before her walked the little priest, who could not resist glancingback every now and then to be sure Napoleon was not too near hisheels. Behind her on either side came two armed retainers.

  As the Maid of Orleans neared the audience, she was greeted byapplause, which pleased her even less than it pleased a certain littlegroup in the center of the gathering. She rode on toward the end ofthe meadow, where next the woods stood the disguised Dauphin and hiscourtiers. As she reached the first of the Dauphin's men-at-arms, shehalted her steed, swung her armor-clad body lightly to the ground, andadvanced with intent gaze toward him, whom she knew to be Charles, thefuture king.

  "She sat her horse like a knight of old."]

  Meanwhile, Napoleon, weary of this pomp and pageantry, and feeling hisback free at last from knights and emperors, moved slowly to a near-bybirch tree, and began to nibble at its fresh new leaves. Joan'sretainers had followed her, and as there was no one to forbid him totake refreshment, he ate on undisturbed. Suddenly at his very nosesounded a blare of trumpets. They proclaimed the Domremy peasant girlto be what she had declared herself--the deliverer of her country. ButNapoleon knew nothing of proclamations or deliverers. All he knew wasthat he had been rudely disturbed and needlessly startled--he, who haduncomplainingly worn trappings of every description and borne Augustusand Roland, the Black Prince and Joan!

  The trumpets sounded again in his ears. This time he answered with aterrifying snort, kicked up his heels and started down the meadow, histasseled blanket, for with this new Joan he wore no saddle, draggingon the ground. Joan, in the act of receiving the homage of the Dauphinand his court, saw him go. She sprang to her feet, mediaeval mannersforgotten, threw aside her spear and shield, and started in pursuit.She forgot that she was to save France; but she knew she was to savethe Earl of Leicester embarrassment from having no steed to ride, whenhe should advance in the next act to greet Queen Elizabeth.

  The progress of Napoleon was somewhat lessened by his robes in whichhe became often entangled, and by his desire for more fresh birchleaves. Within five minutes Joan was near him, her helmet long sincegone, her armor more or less depleted, her hair streaming in the wind.She was no longer the gentle maid of Domremy; she was a Wyoming girlwho was catching her horse.

  "Oh, John!" cried Grandmother Webster, who with frightened eyeswatched her granddaughter in this somewhat strange proceeding. "Oh,John, how can you laugh! She'll be hurt!"

  "No, she won't, mother," her father answered. "She's used to that sortof thing. Don't worry."

  "She's the pluckiest girl I ever saw in my life!" cried the Colonel,slapping his knee. "Joan of Arc wasn't in it!" And his grandson, whohad risen to his feet and was cheering as though he were at afoot-ball game, kept shouting between his cheers:

  "Say, but she's a corker!"

  Now she was running beside Napoleon. Suddenly she grasped his reins,and stopped him just as he was nearing the road, and thinking withoutdoubt that he would escape to his Hillcrest stable where pageantry wasunknown. She straightened his bedraggled robes as well as she could,then with one hand on his neck, sprang to his back with as much easeas though he had been a Shetland pony, and, amid the cheers of theaudience, rode back to receive the homage, not only of the Dauphin,but of the gathering at large.

  The pageant proceeded. Queen Elizabeth, borne by her eight retainers,was received by a somewhat trembling Earl of Leicester, who did notseem at all sure of his steed; Mary Stuart was dignity and courageitself as she marched to the scaffold, led by two perfectly seriousheadsmen; and Martin Luther eclipsed even his rehearsal of themorning. But none like the second Joan was prompted by necessity toforget the bonds of History, and establish a new tradition to add tothe hundreds already clustering about St. Helen's.

  "For," said the white-haired bishop, shaking hands with her, as shestood in her page's costume of doublet and hose, surrounded by anadmiring group, "St. Helen's girls will never forget this Joan, thoughtheir memory may be hazy as to her of Domremy; just as they'll alwaysremember St. Helen's champion chimney-sweep, and probably forget allabout Charles Kingsley's. Isn't that so, my dear?" And he turned witha quizzical smile toward the Blackmore twin, who had dropped into thegrate before his astonished eyes the year before.

  "Well," said Carver Standish III, as bearing Joan's spear and shield,he accompanied her across the campus, "well, all I've got to say is,Miss Hunter, you surely are a winner! And I'm some glad grandfatherbrought me over to meet you!"

  "I'm glad, too," answered the happy Joan, "but I'm not Miss Hunter,I'm just Virginia. You see I'm especially anxious not to be a younglady when I get back home."