GIVE WAY TO MISS SALLIE!
“Aunt Sallie,” declared Ruth mournfully about two o’clock the next day, “we are in great trouble!”
“My dear child, what is the matter now?” demanded Miss Stuart.
“Well,” continued Ruth, “you remember about the little Indian girl whom Bab accidentally shot yesterday? Naki has come back from a visit to her and says she is very ill. He found the doctor there, who says he won’t answer for the child’s life unless she is taken to a hospital in the village, where he can see her often, and where she can have the proper care. The doctor told Naki we waited too long yesterday to send for him. He had to probe Eunice’s arm to get out the bullet. But she will be all right if she is only properly looked after.”
“Then,” declared Miss Sallie, “the matter is a very simple one. Have Naki see to it. The child must be taken to a hospital in Lenox at once. Everything shall be done for her comfort.”
“Indeed, auntie, this is not such a simple matter to attend to as it seems. The Indian grandmother positively refuses to let Eunice be moved. She has kept the child hidden in these hills all her life, until she believes Eunice will be eaten up, or run away with, if once she allows her to go among white people.”
“Nonsense!” sniffed Miss Sallie.
“It is all very well for you to say nonsense, Aunt Sallie, but you do not dream how obstinate this old woman is. She declares an Indian does not need treatment from a doctor. In the meantime, poor little Eunice’s temperature is going up, and she is delirious from the fever. What shall we do? Poor Bab is feeling perfectly miserable.”
“Take me to this obstinate old woman,” said Miss Stuart, firmly.
“You?” cried Ruth, in astonishment.
“Certainly!” answered Aunt Sallie. “I said, ‘take me.’”
“But, auntie, you will so hate the climb up that trail,” Ruth argued. “And the wigwam is dreadful after you get there. Only the little Indian girl is exquisite, like a flower growing in some horrid place. I don’t believe you will ever be equal to the trip.”
“Ruth,” insisted Miss Stuart in stately tones, “since I have thrown in my fortunes as chaperon to ‘The Automobile Girls’ I have had many strange adventures. Doubtless I shall have many others. Persuading an obstinate woman to do what is best for the child she loves is not an impossible task. It does not matter in the least whether the woman is white or an Indian. Tell Naki to take me to the wigwam at once.”
“Aunt Sallie, you are an angel!” cried Ruth, throwing her arms around her aunt. “Now, Bab, don’t you worry any more,” she called into the next room.
“Aunt Sallie does not know what she promises!” said Barbara, joining Ruth and her aunt.
“Just let’s leave her alone, Bab,” whispered Ruth. “We will go along with her to see Eunice. I think I am counting on my Aunt Sallie to win.”
Miss Stuart paused to draw one deep breath, when she finally reached the Indian woman’s wigwam. Then she quietly entered the tent and walked over to Eunice’s bedside. Crouched on the floor by the child was the old Indian squaw, who did not even lift her eyes to look at Miss Sallie.
Eunice was lying on her cedar bed, with her cheeks the color of the scarlet leaves that once crowned her black hair.
“How do you do?” asked Miss Stuart politely, bowing to the Indian woman. As Miss Sallie put her soft hand on Eunice’s hot head, the child stopped her restless movements for a second. The grandmother looked up.
“Your little girl is very ill!” Miss Stuart continued quietly. “I have come to see that she has proper care. She must be taken to a hospital at once. Naki will see to the arrangements. The doctor says the child must be moved to-day.”
The Indian woman shook her head. “The child shall not leave my wigwam!” she declared, obstinately.
“Listen to me!” commanded Miss Stuart, quietly. Ruth and Barbara stood near her, trembling with excitement. “We mean no harm to your little girl. Naki will explain matters to you. But she must be properly looked after. You are too old to attend to her, and your wigwam is not a fit place. You declare your Eunice shall not go away from you even for a little time.” Miss Sallie spoke slowly and impressively. “If you do not allow the child to go away, now, for a short time, so that the doctor can make her well for you, she will leave you forever!”
But still the Indian woman muttered: “My child shall not leave my wigwam. Indians have no need for white men’s doctors.”
“You are alone, aren’t you?” inquired Miss Stuart, gently. “Are not you and your grandchild the last of your race? Perhaps, if you had allowed it, the doctors might have kept other members of your family for you.”
The Indian woman shivered. Miss Stuart had touched some chord in her memory. She raised her black eyes to Miss Sallie and spoke mournfully. “You are right!” she asserted. “My grandchild and I are the last of a great race. I am very old and I am now afraid. Let your white medicine man make my Eunice well again. But I must follow where the child goes. Down in the village they will steal her from me.”
“Why, who would wish to steal her from you?” inquired Miss Stuart.
The old woman mumbled. “An enemy came to my door but yesterday.” Then a look of cunning crossed her face. She spoke childishly. “The lady is wise!” she declared. “Who could wish to steal a poor little Indian girl? Who in all this world has a claim on her but her poor old grandmother? Enough has been said. An Indian does not like too much talk. The child and I will go down into the valley to ask the service of the white doctor. Naki is my friend. I will do as he says. An Indian can keep a secret. Naki has long known that my child and I lived on this hilltop, but he has not betrayed us. He has not even told his own wife. An Indian can keep a secret.” The old woman rocked back and forth as though well pleased with herself.
“Keep whatever secrets you will!” Miss Sallie replied. “It is enough that you will permit the child to have proper care.”
“Girls!” Miss Stuart spoke from the depth of the largest chair in the living room of their log cabin. It was nearly dusk and she was worn out from her long walk to the Indian wigwam. “Girls, I want to ask you something.”
“Attention, girls!” cried Bab. “What is it, Miss Sallie?”
“What do you say,” continued Miss Stuart, “to our going back to civilization? We have had a beautiful time on our hill. I, for one, shall long remember it. But the days are growing shorter. If we are to enjoy Lenox, and all the delights it offers, don’t you think it is about time we were moving there? To tell you the truth, I have already engaged our board at the hotel.”
“Well then, Aunt Sallie, we have no choice in the matter, have we?” asked Ruth, ruefully. “I want to enjoy Lenox, too, but I do so hate to leave this heavenly hill.”
“I vote for Lenox with Aunt Sallie!” Grace exclaimed.
“Sensible Grace!” Miss Stuart murmured.
“See here, Ruth, dear,” protested Grace, “please don’t look as if you were offended with me. We have had a simply perfect time in the log cabin, but I am just longing to see the lovely places down in Lenox, and to meet the delightful people.”
“Ruth,” Barbara spoke sadly, “I, too, want to go down into Lenox now. If Eunice is to be laid up in the hospital I want to be near her, so I can find out how she is each day. I shall never be happy again until I know she is well.”
Mollie put her arm round her sister. “Don’t you worry so, Bab, dear,” she pleaded. “I don’t believe your shooting poor little Eunice in the arm is going to do her harm in the end. Poor little thing! It was simply dreadful for her to have to spend all her time with her old Indian grandmother. She never had a chance to see anybody, or to learn anything. She was simply sick for companions of her own age. That is why she was always haunting our cabin. I don’t believe Eunice is more than part Indian, anyway!” Mollie ended impressively. “I’ve a feeling that we shall do her more good, in the end, from this accident than we have done her harm.”
“You are a dear!” cried Bab, already comforted by her sister’s prophecy.
“You are all against me!” quoth Ruth, rising. “I surrender, as usual, to my beloved aunt. I want to go to Lenox, but—I want to be here on the hill, too. So runs the world. We can’t manage to have all the things we want at the same time; so hurrah for Lenox and the gay world again! Come here to the door with me, children. Let us say farewell to our sweet hillside!”
The girls stood arm in arm on their front porch. The evening wind swept up the hill and rustled through the pines. The brook near their house hurried down the slope into the valley as though it were late for a night’s engagement.
“Ruth,” Barbara declared solemnly, “whatever happens to ‘The Automobile Girls,’ one thing is certain, nothing can ever be lovelier than the weeks we have spent together on this beautiful hill. Let us kiss all around. Call Aunt Sallie. She must be a party to the agreement. We will never forget our little log cabin—never, no, never, in all our lives.”