CHAPTER XXVII
THE CALL OF THE HEART
"I am not the least bit afraid; in fact, I think I shall just sing to show them I feel secure," and Cora snatched up the guitar. She fingered it tenderly, then let it rest for a moment in her arms. "Did Lena say it was all right?"
"The dogs are drugged. I didn't have the heart to kill the brutes, ugly as they are. They will not awaken."
"Good! Then everything else will be all right. Oh, Helka, can you imagine we are so near freedom?"
"I never was frightened before. Whether it is the thought of meeting David, or whether it is the thought of leaving them all, I cannot say, but I am shaking from head to foot," said the queen.
"That is natural. You have been with them almost all your life. But I shall show you what real life is. This is slavery."
Helka looked about her uneasily. "What shall we do first?"
"When it is very dark, and all are in bed, I will fasten the rope to the big nail that Lena fetched. Then I shall try it from this side, and if it holds me I will slip down. Then I shall run. When you no longer hear the leaves rustle, or if you can hear the whistle I will give you as a signal, then you must come."
"And if you go, and I cannot get out! Oh, Cora, I should die here alone now!"
"Faint heart! Be brave! Be strong! Say you will win!"
Cora was jubilant. To her it meant freedom! She had no fear of detection. All she thought of was success. To get away and then to send word to her dear ones!
Lena tapped on the door.
"Helka," she said, "could I, too, go?"
"You, Lena—why?"
"I will not be happy without Helka and without the good lady. I, too, would go away!"
Her eyes were sad, and her voice trembled.
"Why, Lena, they would search the earth for you—you are a real gypsy," said Helka.
"But I have no mother, no father, and what right have they to me? In the world I could learn, I would work for you, I would be your slave!"
The poor girl was almost in tears. Her manner pleaded her cause more eloquently than could any words.
"How would you go?" asked the queen.
"When I go out to lock the barn, I would just run, and run through the woods. I would wait for you at the big oak."
"Where is Sam?" asked Helka.
"He went out with the wagon this afternoon. He will not be back."
"And Mother Hull?"
"Smoking by the fire. She will sleep. I have put some powder in her tobacco."
Cora murmured a protest.
"Oh, she likes it," and the queen smiled. "Tonight it will be a treat.
But the men—the guards?"
"One went to gamble his money that you gave him; the other is out with his fishing pole. I have fixed it all."
"Good girl. You told him I wanted fish for breakfast, and you told the other he could spend his money at the inn. Lena, I wish you could come with us."
"I am going. I will not stay here."
"But in the morning, when they find three gone—what then?"
"In the morning," said Cora, "it does not matter what. We shall be safe some place. Yes, Lena, we will take you. This is no life for any girl."
Lena fell on her knees and kissed Cora's hands wildly. She had befriended Cora ever since she saw her lying so still and white in that awful wagon, and now she might get her reward.
"You will come up with tea when everything is safe," said Helka. "That will be our signal."
Lena went away with a smile on her thin lips. True, she was a real gypsy girl, but she longed for another life, and felt keenly the injustice of that to which she was enslaved.
"Then I will sing," said Cora. "See, the stars are coming out. The night will help us. I have marked every turn in the path. I pretended to be moving the stones from the grass, and I was placing them where I could feel them—in the dark."
"You are a wonderful girl, Cora, and your world must also be wonderful. I have no fear of its strange ways—but my money? How shall I ever be able to get that?"
"Never fear about the money," replied Cora cheerily. "What is rightfully yours you will get. My friends are always the friends of justice."
"And they will not fear the tribe?"
"The tribe will fear them. Wait and see. Now, what shall I sing—the
'Gypsy's Warning?'"
"Yes," and Helka lay back on her low divan.
Again Cora fingered the guitar. Daintily her fingers awoke the chords. Then she sang, first low, then fuller and fuller until her voice rang out in the night.
"Trust him not, oh, gentle lady,
Though his voice be low and sweet,
For he only seeks to win you,
Then to crush you at his feet!"
At each stanza Cora seemed to gain new power in her voice. Helka raised herself on her arm. She was enchanted. The last line had not died on Cora's lips when Helka repeated:
"Yes, I am the gypsy's only child!"
The remark was rather a plaint, and Cora came over very close to Helka.
"You must teach me a new song," she said. "I want one to surprise my friends with."
"Then you are so sure of reaching them?"
"Positive. All America will seem small to me when I am free," and she patted the hand of the queen.
"Free!" repeated the other. "I had never thought this captivity until you came; then I felt the power of a civilized world, and I felt the bondage of this."
The girls were speaking in subdued tones. A single word might betray them if overheard. Yet they were too nervous to remain silent, and Helka seemed so impressed, so agitated, at the thought of leaving, forever, her strange life.
"Do you think it is safe about Lena?" she asked. "I would not like to get that faithful child into trouble."
"It would be much safer to take her than to leave her here," Cora reasoned, "for when they found us gone they would surely blame her."
"Yes, that is so. Well, I have never prayed, that has always seemed a weak sort of way to struggle," said the queen, "but it seems to me now that I must seek strength from some One more powerful than those of earth. There must be such a power."
"Indeed there is," replied Cora. "But now let us be happy. See the stars, how they glitter," and she turned back the drapery from the window. "And see, we shall have a great, big, bright moon to show us our way."
"Hush!" whispered Helka. "I heard a step. Listen!"
Neither spoke for some moments. Then Cora said:
"It was someone in the hall, but the person has gone down the stairs."
"I wonder who it could be? Lena would come in."
"Perhaps that little, frowsy Christine. She seems to stay out of nights. I heard her last night when you were sleeping. I really think she came in very late, crept upstairs, and then I am sure she tried this door."
"She did! Why did you not call me?"
"Well, I was positive it was she, and I did not want to make trouble.
You see she has been listening again."
"She belongs to another tribe and has only come here lately," said Helka. "I have always suspected she was sent to spy on me. If it were not just to-night—this very night—I would call her to an account."
"If the child is under orders," intervened Cora, "you can scarcely trust her to do otherwise than spy. But what do they want to know about you that they cannot readily find out?"
"You could scarcely understand it dear. We have rival tribes, and they each want me—or my money."
"There is another step! There seems to be so many noises to-night."
"Perhaps that is only because we are listening."
"We want to listen, and we want to hear," and Cora put her ear to the keyhole.
"Are they gone?"
Cora did not answer at once. Then she turned to Helka.
"I am sure I heard two voices. Should we call? Or ask who is there?"
"No, it will be better to take our chances. It would be awful to be disappointed now," said the queen in a whisper.
"Surely Lena would not have betrayed us?"
"Never. She is as faithful as—my right hand."
"Of course! But I cannot help being afraid of everything. Helka, we should take some refreshment. That will give us courage."
"I hope Lena will soon fetch the tea," and the queen sighed. "This suspense is dreadful."
"But it will pay us in the end. If we made a mistake now——"
Cora stopped.
A tap came at the door, at which both girls fairly jumped.
"I will answer," said Helka, immediately regaining her composure. She opened the door.
"I forgot my lesson book in your room to-day," said a voice that proved to be that of Christine, "and may I get it?"
"Not to-night," answered Helka decisively. "You should not forget things, and it is too late for lessons."
"But the man—Jensen—says I must get it. He is my teacher, and he is below."
"Tell him Helka says you must go to bed: to bed, do you hear? At once!
I will have Lena see how you obey me."
The girl turned away. Helka locked the door.
"What does that mean?" asked Cora anxiously.
"They are watching us. We must be very cautious. But she is only a timid child and she will go to bed. I do wonder what is keeping Lena?"
"If they should keep her down stairs all night, then could we not venture to leave?" asked Cora.
"I don't know. They might suspect, and they might keep Lena. You take up the guitar and I will ring."
Cora obeyed. How her hands trembled! To be found out would almost mean death to both of them.
Helka pulled the cord that rang the hall bell. Then they waited, but there was no answer. She pulled it again, and after a few minutes she heard the familiar step of Lena.
She opened the door before the Gypsy girl had a chance to knock.
A wild gesture of the girl's hands told Helka not to speak. Then she entered the room.
"They are watching," she whispered, and without waiting for a reply she darted out into the hall again and crept down the stairs.
"Can't we——"
"Hush!" cautioned the queen as she pressed Cora's hands to bid her keep up her courage.
It seemed hours. Would the trees never stop rustling, and would the steps below never cease their shuffling?
"I have said that this was to be my night of music," whispered Helka.
"The night of the full moon always is. So we must have music!"
A long line of automobiles had rumbled along the narrow road. Not a horn sounded, not one of the cars gave any warning. It was night in the White Mountains, and besides the party from the Tip-Top, who had been searching from late that afternoon, there were also, on Mr. Rand's orders, two officers in a runabout.
"Which way?" called the boys from their car. "Sounds like water!"
"Oh, mercy!" exclaimed Bess, who was quite near. "Don't let us run over a falls!"
"No danger!" came back from the Rand car. "That water is half a mile away."
"This is rather unsafe for the girls, though," said Jack to Ed. "I wonder if they don't want to change cars?"
"I have just asked Bess and Betty," replied Ed, "and they would not hear of it. Strange that such timid girls can be so plucky on occasions."
"They're game all right," observed Jack. "I almost feel, now that we are out in the woods, that Cora is along. It is tough to think anything else."
"Perhaps she is. I never felt as encouraged as I do to-night," declared Ed. "Somehow we started out to win and we've got to do it!"
Now, the one great difficulty of this searching tour was that of not sounding the horns, consequently they had to feel their way, as on almost any part of the mountain roads there might be stray cottagers, or campers, or rustics, in danger of being run down.
The lights flashed brightly as if trying to do their part in the search for Cora Kimball.
Giant trees threw formidable shadows, and smaller ones whispered the secrets of the wood. But the girls and boys, and the women and men were too seriously bent upon their work to notice any signs so unimportant.
Suddenly Jack turned off his power. He wanted to listen.
"Did you hear anything?" asked Ed.
"Thought I did, but these evergreens make all sorts of noises."
"The others are making for the hill. We had best not lose sight of them," suggested Ed.
At this Jack started up again and was soon under way. But something had sounded "human." He felt that there must be some sort of life near them.
In a few minutes he was alongside the other cars.
"What kept you?" asked Bess, eager for anything new.
"Nothing," replied Ed. "We just wanted to listen."
"We will leave the cars here and walk. I thought I saw a light," said
Jack.
"I am sure I did," declared Bess. "Oh, If only we find a cave, there are enough of us——"
"The young ladies should not venture too deep in the woods," suggested
Officer Brown. "We had best leave them with one of the young men here."
"Oh, no," objected Belle. "We must go with you. We are better in a crowd."
"Just as you say. But look! Is not that a light?"
They were almost in front of the old house. Cora and Helka were tying the rope to the open window.
"Sing! Sing!" whispered Lena, at the door. "Mother Hull is listening."
Quickly Cora picked up the instrument again, and, although voice and hands trembled, she sang once more the last verse of the "Gypsy's Warning," while Helka played her little harp.
"Hark! Hark!" shrieked Bess. "That is Cora's voice! Listen!"
Spellbound they stood.
"Yes," shouted Belle. "That's Cora!"
"Oh, quick," gasped Betty, "she may stop, and then——"
A rustle in the bushes close by startled them. A man groped his way out.
"What do you want?" he demanded.
"Oh, Leland!"
It was Miss Robbins who uttered the words. She made her way up to the stranger, and while the others stood dumfounded she threw herself in the stranger's arms.
"You, Regina? Here?"
"Yes, is this the Hemlock Bend? Oh, to think that we have found you!"
"But I must go! That was her harp. That was Lillian—somewhere in that thick woods!"
"And the voice was Cora's," interrupted Jack. "Where can she be—to sing, and to sing like that?"
The detectives with Mr. Rand were pressing on. They soon emerged from the thicket and saw the old mansion.
"That is the Bradly place," said Officer Brown. "Only an old woman and a couple of girls live there. That is no place for one to be kidnapped."
"No matter who is there," declared Bess, "I heard Cora sing, and that is Cora's song, 'The Gypsy's Warning.'"
"And I heard Lillian play," declared Dr. Robbins' brother. "I have promised to rescue her to-night."
"And that is why you came?" asked his sister.
"Yes, she is there, in a gypsy den!"