“Well, Little One, you’ve got ways to win a feller, ’spite of himself. If they was all as good as you—”
“Oh! they are, and even lots better! ’Twas just lads’ foolishness that they mistook for smartness. And they, we, all of us will do all we can to help. Where can we look for Wunny? He’s the first one to be thought of. And I’m sorry he was so scared. Also, he’ll be sorry himself over the poor hen. What can I do?”
“Go along an’ eat what breakfast you can get. Then tend to your horses. Likely, they’re hungrier ’n you are and I’ll go see ’t they’re fed. But hear me! Not another mite o’ foolin’ with serious things till Dan Ford gets back an’ takes the reins into his own hands. ’Twas the mercy of Providence—nothin’ else—that that jabberin’ shallow-pate Mateo wasn’t killed plumb out. Silent Pete’s used to grizzlies. He’s used to killin’ ’em. It’s his trade, a deal more ’n ’tis to tend horseflesh. I wouldn’t like to stand as nigh hand to his gun as that Greaser did last night. Now, hurry up and eat. Then report for duty. I’m off to mine.”
“Where do you suppose Wun Sing is?” asked Helena, of anybody who chose to answer.
Nobody did: it may be stated right here that he was never again seen at San Leon. The “bewitched dead fowl” was duly buried in her own courtyard, the little gate to this locked, and its key hung up in the cook’s wall-cupboard. But Wun Sing came no more. Everything belonging to him was left as if he meant to return at any minute, but he did not come.
They searched the pebbly bottom of the lake, thinking he might have drowned himself in his superstitious fear, but he was not there: and after days had been wasted in the fruitless search, Captain Lem had his belongings packed together and sent to his relative, Der Doo, in San Diego. Whence, at the very end of the summer word came back that he had reappeared in that city, a wreck of himself, but it was hoped that with time and good Chinese cooking he would recover his scattered wits and his own culinary skill.
Meanwhile, many messages came from the travellers in the east. The expected old aunt had duly arrived but in no fit condition to travel further for the present. Gray Lady sent dearest love and hoped all her big, new family would find San Leon the happiest place in the world, and the most peaceful. She had lived long enough to understand that peace and harmony were the most precious things in life. She longed to be with them and would be as soon as it was right. Meanwhile, let all be patient as possible over her enforced absence and just feel that she was with them in spirit all the time.
“Odd, isn’t it? That she who so longed to have this home and so enjoyed it should have to leave it to us, a lot of strange youngsters, to use instead?” said Helena, one evening some time later, as they all had gathered about the fountain in the soft sunset light, to talk over happenings and plan things for the coming day.
Since the escapade of the false bear hunt there had been a notable absence of pranks. An ominous peace had settled over the whole young company, remarked by the astute Captain Lem as the “‘ca’m before a storm.’ ’Tain’t in natur’ for ’em to be so demure an’ tractable. No siree. They’ve ‘tended to their groomin’ like reg’lar saints, an’ they’ve learned to drill amazin’ well. They don’t shoot none to hurt, yet, ’ceptin’ that Leslie himself. Sence he’s waked up an’ took an interest he’s done fine. He’s the best o’ the lot and his knowin’ that is what inspires him to do better yet. That, an’ hopin’ to please the Boss. But—I hope the storm’ll blow over—the one they’re brewin’. And I wonder what in creation ever did become o’ that first boy, or of Wunny.”
For as yet no news had come of the latter and the former had almost dropped out of thought—save now and then in Alfy’s, and always in faithful Dorothy’s.