Meg of Mystery Mountain

by Grace May North

The five who remained at the cabin that afternoon found it difficult to converse idly, for the thoughts of each kept returning to a subject of great interest to that individual. Meg’s good friend Teacher Bellows had told her that as soon as her examinations were completed he would accompany her and Pa Heger to a distant valley in the mountains where he had heard that the Ute tribe was then dwelling. They believed the finding of the box to be impossible since all through the years the old Indian had searched for it.

Merry, who had slipped her ring back into its case before any of her friends, except Jane, had seen it, was wondering when would be the best time to put it on her finger and announce to them all that she was to become the wife of Jean’s brother. She had wanted to wait until Jean Willoughby should be with them, but when that would be, she could not conjecture.

Dan and Julie were very much excited over the discovery of the pick and shovel, and the lad could see by the small girl’s manner that she was finding the secret almost more than she could keep. Every now and then, in childish fashion, Julie would look over at her brother, hump her shoulders and put a finger on her lips. Jane noted this, but was too miserably unhappy to wonder about little girl secrets. But she was being true to her resolve. She was ever keeping the memory of her mother in thought, and trying to be interested in what her companions were saying.

It was indeed a long afternoon, tense with suppressed excitement. At five-thirty, when the boys had not returned, Dan began to regret that he had granted the permission, for, of course, Gerry would not have gone to Crazy Creek Camp if his older brother had thought it unwise, and Bob, in all probability, would not have gone alone.

Jane, after glancing at her wrist watch, sprang up, announcing with evident gaiety: “Merry and I have a supper planned.”

Then, turning to the younger girl, she invited: “Julie, dear, wouldn’t you like to set the table and make it look real partified?”

“Oh, goodie!” The small girl was glad to be asked to accompany the older two and away she skipped. Meg and Dan were left alone, for their offers of assistance had been refused.

“Suppose we climb to Bald Rock and watch the sunset,” Dan suggested. The girl, smiling up at him, arose at once. As soon as they had started to climb along the singing brook, Meg looked at her companion inquiringly. “Dan,” she said, “won’t you share your secret with me?”

“Perhaps,” the lad countered, “if you will share yours with me.” A merry, rippling laugh, as silvery as the song of the brook they were following, was the girl’s first response. Then, “We must be mind readers,” she told him.

Dan glanced down into the dusky uplifted face and in his eyes there was an expression almost of adoration. “Meg,” he said, “doesn’t that alone prove that we are perfect comrades? We can sense each other’s unspoken thought.” Then, with greater seriousness: “I have hesitated about telling you, and moreover you have been in Scarsburg during the past week, but it is your right to know. Bob and Gerald and I have been searching for the box of which the dying Indian told you.”