THE VOICE OF NATURE
The bronco was on his feet instantly, with Hippy still clinging to the animal's neck. All the villagers scattered as Ginger bolted across the street.
"Why don't you tickle his ribs?" cried Emma to the spectators.
For a few moments it looked as if man and bronco would land in the village postoffice by way of its large front window.
"Whew!" grinned Hippy, mopping his brow after he had conquered and tied the pony to the tie-rail in front of the postoffice.
"I—I thought you said that Ginger was an educated horse," reminded Emma.
"He is. That is what is the matter with him. Like some persons, not far removed from me at the present moment, he knows too much for the general good of the community. What Ginger needs is a finishing school, and he's going to start right in attending one this very day. You watch my smoke."
"Smoke!" chuckled Elfreda Briggs. "I don't mind it at all ordinarily, but I do wish that, when you get excited, you wouldn't insist on burning soft coal."
"Say, Mister! Why don't yer feed the critter some soothin' syrup? They got it in the store there," urged a spectator. "Good fer man er beast."
Hippy grinned at the speaker, and the villagers roared.
"Good idea, old top. We will pour a bottleful down your throat at the same time. It is good for all animals, you know. Why don't you roar, you folks? All right, if you won't, I'll roar." Hippy haw-hawed and the villagers grinned.
"Come, come. Please do something, Hippy," begged Grace laughingly.
"Sure thing. What do you want me to do?"
"If you and Tom will roll and tie the packs, you will be doing us a service. I imagine we girls are a bit out of practice in lashing packs, and, as we have quite a bit of equipment to carry, and a long ride ahead of us to-day, we must have everything secure, and start as soon as possible."
"Want a guide, Mister?" questioned a young man dressed as a lumberjack, lounging up to Lieutenant Wingate. "I kin take ye anywheres."
"We have one," replied Hippy briefly.
"I don't see none. Who be he?"
"Name's Hindenburg," said Hippy, pointing to the bull pup. "Greatest little guide west of the Atlantic Ocean. I paid a thousand dollars for his bark alone. The breeder threw in the rest of the dog because, when you peel the bark off a tree, it dies."
Emma Dean uttered a high, trilling laugh, and the other girls joined in so heartily that, for a moment, or so, work came to a standstill. Hippy then briskly attacked the packs, while Tom secured them to the backs of the ponies.
While this was being done Grace left the party to buy food sufficient to last for at least a two-days' journey, and returned with her arms full of bundles, the contents being transferred to the mess kits of her companions.
"Are you going to let the dog run?" questioned Anne.
"I am not. He rides horseback," replied Hippy briefly. "I am a man of resources."
"Especially in leading educated ponies," murmured Emma.
In the meantime, Hippy had taken a canvas bag from his pack and hung it over the pommel of his saddle.
"Come, Little Hindenburg. We will now go bye-bye," cooed Hippy, lifting the bull pup, depositing it in the open bag, and tying the dog's lead string to the saddle.
"Hippy darlin'!" cried Nora. "If Hindenburg jumps out he will hang himself and choke to death."
"Sure he will. That is why he isn't going to jump out."
Hindenburg stood up in the bag and barked in apparent approval of Hippy's assertion.
"Listen!" exclaimed Emma, holding up a hand. "Bark again, Hindenburg."
Hindenburg did so, Emma Dean giving close attention.
"What is the big idea?" demanded Lieutenant Wingate.
"I wished to listen to this voice from the canine world because it carries a message to us," answered Miss Dean gravely.
Hippy gave her a quick keen glance, but Ginger, taking sudden umbrage at a dog barking at his side, demanded his rider's exclusive attention. By the time Hippy had subdued the bronco, Emma's peculiar remark had passed out of mind. Soon after that, with packs neatly lashed, each rider in the saddle, the Overland Riders wheeled their ponies and jogged along the village street on their way to the Great North Woods where Tom Gray, as an expert forester, was to "cruise" or estimate the amount of timber standing on the thousands of acres in the huge timber tract, the largest tract of virgin timber east of the Rocky Mountains.
The Overland Riders, who, for the previous three summers, following their return from France where they had served in various capacities during the war, in the Overton College Unit, had decided to accompany Tom to the Big Woods, seeking such adventure as the northland might afford.
As they started away on the first leg of their journey, none was more joyous than the bull pup, who barked at the villagers, barked at every dog and cat within sight, and, after the village had been left behind, entertained himself by barking at imaginary cats and dogs, Emma Dean being his most interested listener. Emma's quietness attracted the attention of her companions, and they wondered at the change in her, for, on previous journeys, there was seldom a time when Emma did not have a great deal to say.
Not until after five o'clock that afternoon did the party halt to rest the ponies and have luncheon, the latter consisting of hot tea and biscuit, the Riders having planned to eat their supper at Bisbee's Corners.
Most of the girls were quite ready for a rest, but, this being their first long ride of the season, they found, upon dismounting, that they could hardly walk. Grace, being the least disturbed of the party, volunteered to get the fire started and brew the tea, while Lieutenant Wingate and Tom Gray watered the horses and staked them at the side of the road for a nibble at the grass that grew there. Then all hands sat down with their feet curled under them and held out their tin cups for a drink of hot tea.
Emma Dean poised her cup in the air, and, with a far-away look in her eyes, listened intently to the solemn bell note of a hermit thrush.
"What is on your mind to-day, Emma Dean?" laughed Anne Nesbit. "Is it possible that you are in love or something?"
"I am listening to the voices of nature," replied Emma solemnly, shaking her head slowly and taking a sip of tea.
"This is something new, isn't it?" twinkled Grace Harlowe.
"Yes," agreed Elfreda. "Only a few hours ago you were listening to a 'message' from the throat of the bull pup, and now I suppose you are turning your attention to that hermit thrush for the same reason."
"I am listening to the voices of nature," returned Emma. "Listening for the messages that, when once rightly interpreted, will open up the vast realm of the unknown to us mortals. If we would but listen we should hear many mysteries explained and—"
"Speak, Hindenburg!" interjected Hippy, giving the bull pup a push with the toe of his boot and bringing a growl from the animal. "How long has she been this way, girls?"
"Make fun of me if you wish. I am used to it."
"I agree with Emma that there is much in nature that we might do well to consider, suggestions that it would be to our everlasting advantage to adopt," spoke up Tom Gray. "So far, however, as being able to read the notes of the birds or the growl of a bull pup—piffle!"
"I agree with you," nodded Elfreda.
"Emma, where do you get all that dope?" questioned Hippy. "I am beginning to believe what I suspected last season, when you were riding that 'con-centration' hobby, that your war service has unbalanced your mind."
"No, no! He is only joking, Emma," protested Nora.
"It matters little to me what Hippy Wingate says or thinks. I belong to the 'Voice of Nature Cult.'"
"What's that? A breakfast food?" laughed Anne.
"The 'Cult' is an organization of advanced thinkers, presided over by Madam Gersdorff, an adept who can converse with the birds of the air, the animals and—"
"I wish she were here," declared Hippy with emphasis. "I should like to have her tell that bronco what my opinion of him is and hear what he says in reply," added Lieutenant Wingate, flipping a biscuit, which Hindenburg deftly caught and gulped down at a single swallow.
"Madam Gersdorff gave some remarkable demonstrations of her power in the direction of interpreting the voices of nature last winter," resumed Emma. "She is giving me a correspondence course at five dollars a lesson, which I consider a remarkably low price. I wish I might induce you girls to take the course, but I don't suppose any of you have the nerve to do so in the face of Hippy Wingate's unkind criticisms. Let me tell you something. A medium that I went to in Boston a few weeks ago told me some remarkable things about myself. I had been telling her of this 'Voice of Nature Cult.' 'How strange,' answered the medium. 'I see birds all about you. A whole flock of them accompanied you into this very room. See! They are hovering over you at this very moment.'"
"I'll bet they were a flock of crows," murmured Hippy.
"Did you see them, darlin'?" begged Nora in an awed tone that brought smiles to the faces of her companions.
"No. I was not sufficiently in tune with nature to see them, especially in daylight."
"Good-night!" muttered Hippy Wingate.
"And what do you think the medium also said?" asked Emma.
"Five dollars, please," laughed Grace.
"She did not. All she would consent to take from me was a dollar, and she said that, if I would come to her twice a week regularly, she would promise that, in a few weeks, I could see the birds as well as she could. But I didn't tell you—what the medium said of even greater importance was that the explanation was that some of my ancestors, far back in the dim shadows of the early hours of the world, were birds of the air. Just think of it, girls! Birds! Flying through the air and—"
"Darting yon and hither," finished Hippy.
"Alors! Let's fly," cried Elfreda Briggs amid a shout of laughter from the Overland Riders.
"So say we all of us," answered Grace, springing up and beginning to pack away her mess kit. "It will be long after dark before we reach Bisbee's Corners."
The girls were still laughing as they rode away, Emma Dean silently resentful, her chin in the air, her face flushed.
"Do you really think she is in earnest about that nature stuff?" questioned Anne.
"She thinks she is, but of course she isn't. Emma, like many others, must have a hobby to ride. She, fortunately, is fickle in her hobbies, and rides one but a short time before she tires of it and casts it aside. What would we do on these journeys without her?" laughed Grace.
"Yes. Our Emma is a joy and a delight," nodded Anne.
After a brisk ride at a steady gallop, the Overlanders jogged into the one street that Bisbee's Corners possessed shortly after nine o'clock that evening, all thoroughly tired but happy, with Hindenburg sound asleep in the saddle bag.
The streets, they saw, were thronged with men, mostly lumberjacks, some singing, others shouting, and here and there a pair of them engaged in fist battles.
"Must have been paid off," observed Tom Gray. "We are getting near the Big Woods, folks."
"I should say we are," replied Grace, taking in the scene with keen interest. "I hear a fiddle. There must be a dance going on."
"A dance? Oh, let's go," cried Emma.
"Better listen to the voices of nature," answered Tom laughingly. "A lumberjack dance is no place for a refined woman, or man either, for that matter. Where to, Grace?"
"The general store. I'll go in. The girls had better stay on their horses, for I don't like the looks of things in Bisbee's."
"Lumber-jacks are rough, but let them alone and they will let you alone," said Lieutenant Wingate.
Tom Gray said this might be true in theory, but that it was not always true in fact.
Pulling up before the general store, Grace dismounted and elbowed her way through a crowd of men, smilingly demanding "gangway," which was readily granted, though accompanied by quite personal remarks about her, to which, of course, the Overland girl gave not the slightest heed.
"Joe Shafto bought the supplies for you, Mrs. Gray," the owner of the store informed her after Grace had introduced herself and stated her mission. "Joe packed the stuff home on the mules and said you'd pay for it when you come along. That alright?"
"Perfectly so, and thank you ever so much. What is the excitement out there?" with a nod towards the street.
"Jacks comin' in for the early work in the woods. The foremen are hirin' 'em here and sendin' 'em on to the different camps. The whole bunch is just spoilin' for fight. Better not stir 'em up unless your crowd is lookin' for trouble," advised the storekeeper.
"Oh, no. Nothing like that," laughed Grace Harlowe, laying the money for their supplies on the counter. "Nothing wrong outside, is there, Hippy?" she asked quickly as the lieutenant came in rather hurriedly.
"No. I'm after candy."
"That is fine. Buying candy for Nora and the girls," glowed Grace. "My husband seldom thinks to bring me candy, and—"
"For Nora? No. I'm getting the candy for the bronco and the bull pup—trying to buy my way into their good graces, as it were. Neither one of them takes to the uproar in the street. The bronc' is threatening to bolt, and Hindenburg has declared war on the lumberjack tribe because one of them poked a stick in his ribs just now."
Grace, after thanking the storekeeper for his courtesy, went out laughing, but the instant she stepped into the street she intuitively sensed a change in the spirit of the crowd there. The jacks had fallen silent in comparison with their previous uproarious attitude—sullen and threatening, it seemed to her.
"What's wrong here, Elfreda?" she asked, stepping up beside Miss Briggs' pony.
"A jack tried to pull Emma from her horse, probably out of mischief. Tom jumped his pony over and knocked the fellow down with his fist. Three or four others started for him. Tom rode one of them down and the others ran into the crowd for protection. I think we are headed for trouble," prophesied J. Elfreda.
"Grace, where is Hippy?" called Tom Gray anxiously.
"In the store buying candy for the pup."
"Stand back, you fellows!" commanded Tom sternly as he discovered that the jacks were crowding closer and closer to the little group of horsewomen. "We don't mind sport so far as the men are concerned, but you must let these young women alone. Hurry, Hippy!" he urged, as Lieutenant Wingate appeared at the store door.
"Overland!" called Grace, which was the rallying hail of the Overland Riders, and by which signal Lieutenant Wingate knew that all was not well with his companions.
Hippy jumped from the store porch and strode to his pony.
"What is it?" he questioned sharply, taking Ginger's rein from Nora and vaulting into his saddle to the accompaniment of joyous barks from Hindenburg.
"Reckon these wild jacks are getting ready to rush us. Keep your eyes peeled," warned Tom Gray.
"Here they come! Look out!" called Grace.
"Let go of my bridle, you ruffian!" they heard Anne Nesbit cry, and as they looked they saw her bring down her riding crop across the face of a lumberjack who had grasped her pony's bridle and was trying to separate the animal from the others of the party.