CHAPTER VII
Delivered by Dave
BY this time, of course, the mothers, Aunty Jane, the solitarygrandmother, and even the fathers, were decidedly alarmed; for morningdisclosed the disquieting fact that the Whale was still missing.
Mrs. Slater thought that somebody ought to call up the police; Mrs.Tucker suggested sending the militia forth on horseback to scour thesurrounding country. Aunty Jane advised ringing the fire bell.
"All nonsense," blustered Doctor Bennett, more worried than he waswilling to admit; but, since all the alarmed ladies, singly andcollectively, had appealed to him for advice, it was necessary ofcourse to appear as unconcerned as possible. "All nonsense, I say. IfMr. Black has had an accident with his car he probably doesn't careto have the fact advertised. Nor do we want the whole town worryingabout our children. Be reasonable. There isn't a road in the countrythat crosses a railroad track; there isn't an inch of road anywhereabout that skirts any dangerous declivity. The Whale _might_ get stuckin some swamp or stalled in the sand or lose a tire or run short ofgasoline. In any of those cases, they'd take refuge _somewhere_, whilewaiting for repairs. Folks with automobiles often get held up for anight. There's just one thing for us to do. That is, to wait. Go home,everybody, and _wait_."
So, only partly relieved of their fears, though frequently upheld byencouraging Doctor Bennett, these good people waited throughout thelong, dreary day.
* * * * *
To return to the castaways, it required nearly every minute of the twohours that Dave spent in slumber to prepare those lists and variousletters, for they all needed a great deal of revising.
Henrietta's was the last note to be finished, because that ingeniousmaid added a miraculous number of postscripts. All the other missiveswere tied together with a stout string; when Henrietta, who had seizedhers at the last moment to add a request for marshmallows, discoveredthat Dave, with the large packet inside his shirt, was already makingfor the path out of the clearing.
Henrietta flew after him with the note, which was addressed veryclearly to Mrs. Slater. Dave laughed, thrust the note lightly into thepocket of his shirt, and vanished--Dave had a curious way of melting,with surprising suddenness, from one's sight.
"He'll lose that," declared Henrietta, returning to the group shelteredunder a big pine tree--the June sun was bright in the clearing. "I wishit were tied up with the others."
It was fortunate, however, that it was not; for the Indian proved anerratic postman.
It took Dave less time than Mr. Black had supposed it would to reachLakeville--and a Lakeville friend, dwelling on the outskirts of thetown. This hospitable friend considered it necessary to refresh hisvisitor with the contents of a large, flat bottle.
Now, Dave was very easily affected by strong drink. After he had partedfrom his generous host, he remembered hazily that he had somethingto deliver to somebody--he cherished a dim recollection of a flying,girlish figure, a bright, youthful countenance, and a letter. That wasit, a letter. He groped in his trousers pockets. Nothing there. In hisloose belt. Nothing there. In the pocket of his dingy shirt. Yes, thereit was.
Clutching it firmly, the staggering Indian searched the sky above himwith bleared but inquiring eyes.
"What ye lookin' for?" asked Pat Mulligan, the policeman.
"Pos'--pos' office," replied Dave, with a wide, friendly smile."Let--letters s'mail."
"Give it here," said Pat, "I'm goin' right there myself."
With that, he escorted trusting Dave to the village lockup. This safelyaccomplished, he studied the address on the birch-bark note.
"Sure," observed Pat, "there's no stamp on this. 'Twas plainly meant tobe delivered by hand. On the Avenoo, is it? I'm knowin' the house--I'lltake it there."
Which the good-natured officer did, to the great relief of Mrs. Slater,who, in spite of Doctor Bennett's assurances, was almost wild, by thistime, with anxiety.
"Dear Granny," extravagant Henrietta had written. "I'm a wild Indian inthe loveliest woods in the world. We're all safe and comfortable andwe're going to stay _forever_, so send me a nightie and a toothbrush,some stockings, my tennis shoes, my oldest dress, some underwear; and,if you love me, a clean towel--a fuzzy one. Affectionately, Henrietta.
"P.S.--I'd like a pillow-case, _if_ you please. And a sheet.
"P.S.--Oh, yes--I need my hairbrush and my bathing suit.
"P.S.--And a lot of things to eat; bread, pie, cake, cookies, fruit,and fish-hooks.
"P.S.--Please can I have a red bandanna handkerchief and a button tosew on my petticoat. Also, a pair of shoe strings.
"P.S.--Peanuts and everything else you can thing of to eat and wear.
"P.S.--Please send the bundle to Mr. Black's office to Mr. Saunders.
"P.S.--A can of condensed milk for Anthony Fitz-Hubert, if they _do_call the poor dear 'Ambrosial Delight.'
"P.S.--A whole bushel of marshmallows for _me_. I love you."
Mrs. Slater, a bright old lady with sparkling black eyes, not unlikeHenrietta's own, read this letter with very evident enjoyment. Then shewent to the telephone.
"Is this Doctor Tucker?" she asked. "Have you heard from Bettie? Oh,haven't you? Well, I have--that is, from Henrietta. They are safe andcomfortable; and, I should judge from Henrietta's note, uproariouslyhappy. If you'll call up the Bennetts and Marjory's Aunt Jane, I'lltell Mrs. Mapes. Then I'll drive round, presently, and let you seethe note--no, she didn't mention the Whale--I fancy your girls willwant as many things as Henrietta does. Don't forget to tell theothers--good-by."
This, of course, relieved the anxious minds of the parents; and DoctorBennett was thoughtful enough to inform Martin that the party was safe.
At ten o'clock the next morning, Dave was given an opportunity toappear before Judge Wilson and tell his story. The delayed notes cameto light, and by noon were properly distributed, whereupon there wasa grand scurrying in several households; and in Mr. Black's office aswell.
"What," asked puzzled Mrs. Bennett, running into Mrs. Tucker'sconveniently near house, "did Bettie ask for? This is every word Mabelwrote."
Mrs. Bennett drew a scrap of bark from her blouse. Mrs. Tucker laughedwhen she read it.
"Dear Mother:" wrote Mabel. "Please send about a thousand bananas. Weare going to stay here."
All around this was an elaborate border of drawings--attempts atsquirrels. Mabel had left no room for further writing.
"I hope," Mrs. Tucker said, eying the drawings, apprehensively, "thatthat place isn't infested with rats."
"They're _rabbits_," explained Mrs. Bennett, with conviction. "Mabelhas quite a talent for drawing. But I wish she'd _written_ a littlemore."
"She probably needs all the articles that Bettie asks for," said Mrs.Tucker. "Bettie says she's feeling fine. I suppose they found an emptyfarmhouse and took possession of it."
"Yes," agreed Mrs. Bennett, "I can just _see_ them moving into thoseempty rooms and making them as homelike as possible."
It was a good thing, perhaps, that Mrs. Bennett _couldn't_ see thehouse that her daughter was living in; for it certainly wasn't muchof a house, even with the extra touches that Mr. Black was adding atthat very moment. But of course it was better than none. The good lady,re-enforced by Bettie's really useful list, went home to hunt up asmany as she could locate of Mabel's scattered belongings; for Mabel,ever the untidiest of mortals, kept her wardrobe in the unlikeliest ofplaces.
Poor Mr. Saunders certainly had his hands full collecting all thethings for which Mr. Black and his good sister had asked--thesehospitable souls were bent on providing their guests with everypossible comfort. It was not easy, either, to find a boatman willing orable to go so far--the distance was greater by water than by land.
When all else was packed in Captain Berry's gasoline launch, Mr.Saunders paid Dave's fine and secured his release from the jail, forMr. Black had written that Dave was to ride with the motley cargo. Thiscargo was all aboard, even to Mabel's bananas, but it was the
morningof the following day before the boat was able to start, because CaptainBerry, the launch-man, had discovered at dusk that his gasoline barrelwas empty. By that time Dave was missing. But dauntless Mr. Saundersemployed Mulligan, the policeman, to find him; and Dave, very much theworse for the liquid portion of his breakfast, was finally loaded,with his snarling dog, aboard the launch. Dave, it was only too plainlyevident, was unable to resist the temptations of town life.
At last, however, to the great relief of Mr. Saunders, the launch wasstarted on its way. "I feel," said the weary bachelor, turning awayfrom the wharf, "just like the father of a whole orphan asylum."
The Castaways of Pete's Patch Page 10