CHAPTER XXIII--LOST
The girl visitors from Briarwood Hall did all they could to help themistress of Sunrise Farm and Madge prepare for the evening festivities,and not alone in employing the attention of the six little girls fromthe orphanage.
There were the decorations to arrange, and the paper lanterns to hang,and the long tables on the porch to prepare for the supper. Twelveextra, hungry little mouths to feed was, of itself, a fact of no smallimportance.
When the wagon had come up from Caslon's with the orphans, Mrs. Steelehad thought it rather a liberty on the part of the farmer's wife becauseshe had, with the children, sent a great hamper of cakes, which she(Mrs. Caslon) herself had baked the day before.
But the cakes were so good, and already the children were so hungry,that the worried mistress of the big farm was thankful that thesesupplies were in her pantry.
"When the boys come back from the pond, I expect they will be ravenous,too," sighed the good lady. "_Do_ you think, Madge, that there will beenough ham and tongue sandwiches for supper? I am sure of the cream andcake--thanks to that good old woman (though I hope your father won't hearme say it). But that is to be served after the fireworks. They will wantsomething hearty at suppertime--and goodness me, Madge! It is fiveo'clock now. Those boys should be back from their swim."
As for Mr. Steele, he was immensely satisfied with the celebration ofthe day so far. To tell the truth, he had very little to do with thework of getting ready for the orphans' entertainment. Aside from theexplosion of the fireworks in the cart, the occasion had been aperfectly "safe and sane" celebration of a holiday that he usuallylooked forward to with no little dread.
Before anybody really began to worry over their delay, the boys cameinto view. They had had a refreshing swim and announced the state oftheir appetites the moment they joined the girls at the big tent.
"Yes, yes," said Madge, "we know all about that, Bobbie dear. But hislittle tootie-wootsums must wait till hims gets his bib put on, an' letsister see if his hannies is nice and clean. Can't sit down to eat ifhims a dirty boy," and she rumpled her big brother's hair, while helooked foolish enough over her "baby talk."
"Don't be ridiculous, Madge," said Helen, briskly. "Of course they arehungry---- But where's the rest of them?"
"The rest of what?" demanded Busy Izzy. "I guess we're all here."
"Say! you _must_ be hungry," chuckled Heavy. "Did you eat the kids?"
"What kids?" snapped Tom, in sudden alarm.
"The fresh airs, of course. The 'terrible twins' and their mates. Mygoodness!" cried Ann Hicks, "you didn't forget and leave them down thereat the pond, did you?"
The boys looked at each other for a moment. "What's the joke?" Bobbinsfinally drawled.
"It's no joke," Ruth said, quickly. "You don't mean to say that youforgot those little boys?"
"Now, stop that, Ruth Fielding!" cried Isadore Phelps, very red in theface. "A joke's a joke; but don't push it too far. You know very wellthose kids came back up here more'n an hour ago."
"They didn't do any such thing," cried Sadie, having heard thediscussion, and now running out to the tent. "They haven't been near thehouse since you big boys took them to the pond. Now, say! what d'ye knowabout it?"
"They're playing a trick on us," declared Tom, gloomily.
"Let's hunt out in the stables, and around," suggested Ralph Tingley,feebly.
"Maybe they went back to Caslon's," Isadore said, hopefully.
"We'll find out about that pretty quick," said Madge. "I'll tell fatherand he'll send somebody down to see if they went there."
"Come on, boys!" exclaimed Tom, starting for the rear of the house."Those little scamps are fooling us."
"Suppose they _have_ wandered away into the woods?" breathed Ruth toHelen. "Whatever shall we do?"
Sadie could not wait. She was unable to remain idle, when it waspossible that the twin brothers she had so lately rejoined, were indanger. She flashed after the boys and hunted the stables, too.
Nobody there had seen the "fresh airs" since they had followed thebigger boys to the pond.
"And ye sure didn't leave 'em down there?" demanded Sadie Raby of Tom.
"Goodness me! No!" exclaimed Tom. "They couldn't go in swimming as wedid, and so they got mad and wouldn't stay. But they started right upthis way, and we thought they were all right."
"They might have slanted off and gone across the fields to Caslon's,"said Bobbins, doubtfully.
"That would have taken them into the back pasture where Caslon keeps hisAngoras--wouldn't it?" demanded the much-worried young man.
"Well, you can go look for 'em with the goats," snapped Sadie, startingoff. "But me for that Caslon place. If they didn't go there, then theyare in the woods somewhere."
She started down the hill, fleet-footed as a dog. Before Mr. Steele hadstopped sputtering over the catastrophe, and bethought him to startsomebody for the Caslon premises to make inquiries, Sadie came in viewagain, with the old, gray-mustached farmer in tow.
The serious look on Mr. Caslon's face was enough for all those waitingat Sunrise Farm to realize that the absent children were actually lost.Tom and Bobbins had come up from the goat pasture without having seen,or heard, the six little fellows.
"I forgot to tell ye," said Caslon, seriously, "that ye had to keep oneeye at least on them 'terrible twins' all the time. We locked 'em intotheir bedroom at night. No knowin' when or where they're likely to breakout. But I reckoned this here sister of theirs would keep 'em close toher----"
"Well!" snapped Sadie Raby, eyeing Tom and Bobbins with much disfavor,"I thought that a bunch of big fellers like them could look after half adozen little mites."
Mr. Steele had come forward slowly; the fact that the six orphan boysreally seemed to be lost, was an occasion to break down even _his_barrier of dislike for the neighbor. Besides, Mr. Caslon ignored anydifference there might be between them in a most generous manner.
"I blame myself, Neighbor Steele--I sure do," Mr. Caslon said, before theowner of Sunrise Farm could speak. "I'd ought to warned you about themtwins. They got bit by the runaway bug bad--that's right."
"Humph! a family trait--is it?" demanded Mr. Steele, rather grimly eyeingthe sister of the runaways.
"I couldn't say about that," chuckled the farmer. "But Willie and Dickiestarted off twice from our place, trailin' most of the other kids with'em. But I caught 'em in time. Now, their sister tells me, they've gotat least an hour and a half's start."
"It is getting dark--or it will soon be," said Mr. Steele, nervously. "Ifthey are not found before night, I shall be greatly disturbed. I feel asthough I were responsible. My oldest boy, here----"
"Now, it ain't nobody's fault, like enough," interrupted Mr. Caslon,cheerfully, and seeing Bobbins's woebegone face. "We'll start right outand hunt for them."
"But if it grows dark----"
"Let me have what men you can spare, and all the lanterns around theplace," said Caslon, briskly, taking charge of the matter on theinstant. "These bigger boys can help."
"I--I can go with you, sir," began Mr. Steele, but the farmer waved himback.
"No. You ain't used to the woods--nor to trampin'--like I be. And it won'thurt your boys. You leave it to us--we'll find 'em."
Mrs. Steele had retired to the tent on the lawn in tears, and most ofthe girls were gathered about her. Sadie Raby clung to Farmer Caslon'sside, and nobody tried to call her back.
Since returning from Darrowtown that morning, Ruth Fielding had divulgedto Mr. Steele all she had discovered through Miss True Pettis regardingthe Raby family, and about the Canadian lawyer who had once searched forMrs. Raby and her children.
The gentleman had expressed deep interest in the matter, and while thefresh air children were being entertained during the afternoon, Mr.Steele had already set in motion an effort to learn the whereabouts ofMr. Angus MacDorough and to discover just what the property was that hadbeen willed to the mother of the Raby orphans.
Sadie had been tol
d nothing about this wonderful discovery as yet.Indeed, there had been no time. Sadie had been busy, with Mrs. Steeleand the others, in preparing for that "safe and sane" celebration withwhich Mr. Steele had desired to entertain the "terrible twins" and theirlittle companions at Sunrise Farm.
Now this sudden catastrophe had occurred. The loss of the six littleboys was no small trouble. It threatened to be a tragedy.
Down there beyond the pond the mountainside was heavily timbered, andthere were many dangerous ravines and sudden precipices over which acareless foot might stray.
Dusk was coming on. In the wood it would already be dark. And if thefrightened children went plunging about, seeking, in terror, to escape,they might at any moment be cast into some pit where the searchers wouldpossibly never find them.
Mr. Steele felt his responsibility gravely. He was, at best, a nervousman, and this happening assumed the very gravest outlines in his anxiousmind.
"Never ought to have let them out of my own sight," he sputtered, havingRuth for a confidant. "I might have known something extraordinary wouldhappen. It was a crazy thing to have all those children up here,anyway."
"Oh, dear, Mr. Steele!" cried Ruth, much worried, "_that_ is partly myfault. I was one of those who suggested it."
"Nonsense! nonsense, child! Nobody blames you," returned the gentleman."I should have put my foot down and said 'No.' Nobody influenced me atall. Why--why, I _wanted_ to give the poor little kiddies a nice time.And now--see what has come of it?"
"Oh, it may be that they will be found almost at once," cried Ruth,hopefully. "I am sure Mr. Caslon will do what he can----"
"Caslon's an eminently practical man--yes, indeed," admitted Mr. Steele,and not grudgingly. "If anybody can find them, he will, I have nodoubt."
And this commendation of the neighbor whom he so disliked struck Ruthcompletely silent for the time being.
Ruth Fielding At Sunrise Farm; Or, What Became of the Raby Orphans Page 24