“Berry can’t be as hungry as I am or she would be on hand,” said Mrs. Arnold, as the sound of Mr. Arnold’s whistle echoed along the hillside.
“Hunting for flowers, but she’ll soon be here, with Lily at her heels,” responded Mr. Arnold, and added: “I wonder if we shall ever see little Mollie Bragg again?”
“I am sure we will,” Mrs. Arnold replied. “Poor child, I am glad she was not taken away before we could give her a happy birthday to remember,” and, talking of the Braggs, the time sped by, and yet no sign or sound of Berry or Lily. But neither Mr. nor Mrs. Arnold felt anxious as to the girls’ safety. Berry had her whistle, which she would surely sound if in any danger, and, with Lily close at hand, it did not seem probable that any accident had befallen their little daughter, and only the fact that the potatoes and bacon would not keep hot at last decided Mr. Arnold to repeat his call, and finally to start back toward the maple grove in search of Berry, quite sure that he would find Lily with her.
Berry had not intended to go out of sight of her father when she wandered up the ridge, but the discovery of an unexpected trillium in blossom led her to go further on hoping to find more, and, by the time her father had started his fire, Berry was on the further slope, out of hearing of Mr. Arnold’s shrill whistle. She had just decided to turn back when she noticed a tiny thread of smoke creeping up behind a ledge. Berry knew the dangers of a forest fire, and, thinking some careless woodsman had failed to put out his fire, she promptly started toward the smoke, meaning to put out the fire. Her moccasin-covered feet made no noise as Berry climbed over the ledge. As she looked down toward the thread of smoke Berry nearly lost her balance: for, just below, not twenty feet from the ledge of rocks where she crouched, was the threatening stranger whom she had met at the brook in January, and who had mistaken her for a boy. The man was crouched near a tiny fire over which he was roasting a partridge. If he had not been so intent upon his cooking he might have become conscious that someone was very close to him, for Orson was a thorough woodsman, with every sense on the alert. Berry, looking down upon him, realized that the man was camping there, as a rough shelter of boughs stood near by. She resolved to slip away as noiselessly as possible; with her eyes still fixed on the crouching figure, she cautiously moved one foot, and then the other, backward, holding to the rocks with both hands. There was a little noiseless movement along the ledge, and Berry felt both her feet held; a loose rock, started by her movements, had been gradually slipping, and now held Berry a prisoner. It had rolled against her ankles binding her to the side of the ledge.
“What can I do?” she wondered. To sound her whistle, even to endeavor to push the rock away, would instantly bring the man leaping up the ledge. “I must get clear myself, some way!” she resolved, but she could think of no way to free herself.
CHAPTER XI
THE MIDNIGHT ADVENTURE
Lily’s wanderings during her flight from the Alabama plantation had made her alert and watchful of every woodland noise and sign. Since Berry had not come down the ridge with Mr. Arnold, Lily was sure she had followed a wandering path leading to the summit, and the negro girl sped swiftly along. At first she thought of calling her young mistress’s name, but her instinct for silence prevented this, and, as she found herself facing the ledge where Berry was held prisoner by the rock that had slipped against her ankles, Lily had no impulse to cry out. As quietly as Berry herself she crept down close to the ledge, and noticing the thread of smoke a dreadful fear took possession of her.
“Lak as not it’s fo’ks a-huntin’ fer me. My lan’! W’ot I better do?” was her first thought; then her eyes turned toward the girl clinging to the ledge, the girl who had been the first to speak kindly to the fugitive slave girl, and instantly Lily recalled all Berry’s kindness had meant to her, and she forgot her fears for her own safety, and thought only of her young mistress.
WITHOUT A WORD BERRY POINTED TO THE HEAVY ROCK.