"Jest a little mite furder," answered the old woman, who relished the situation immensely. "A matter of half a mile, maybe!"
And so they slipped noiselessly on, in that enchanted light, over that enchanted water with its reflections of amber and blue. Some crows, grown suddenly garrulous over private matters, cawed pleasantly in the pine-tops a little way off against the sky, and then subsided again into silence.
On both banks of the stream the trees held out their leaves, russet and gold, amethyst and bronze and scarlet, like so many little elfin hands attesting that all fair dreams come true at last for those who have the key to the inner mysteries.
Barbara was paddling in a dream herself, when suddenly old Debby said, "Turn in here, my sweeting! Here to your right!"
"But where?" asked Barbara, puzzled. "I don't see any place to turn in!"
"Straight through them dripping branches yonder by the water-logged stump!" directed the old woman. "Straight on through!"
As the prow of the canoe came up to what was seemingly the shore, old Debby parted the branches. As the canoe pushed onward, she continued this process,—and a few feet in from the main stream they entered a long, narrow deadwater, deep and clear, and perfectly hidden from the world. It was perhaps a hundred yards in length, slightly winding; and at its head, on a gentle rise, stood a little deserted log cabin.
"Oh, Debby!" cried Barbara. "How did you ever find such a place?"
"It's been empty this ten year!" answered Debby. "An' folks has forgotten, that ever knowed. An' I've been keepin' it to myself, when I wanted to get away from the ducks an' hens a mite. An' I've kep' it from fallin' to pieces. I'll nurse Master Robert here till he's able to get away, if it takes a year. An' I'll come back and forward in my punt. There's a bunk ready now, full of pine-needles; an' when we get him into it we'll go back to make it all right with Aunt Hitty. Ain't I got a head on my old shoulders, now, Miss Barby?"
Even as Debby had so swiftly and fully planned, it was done. Robert was still so far gone in exhaustion, and so wandering in his mind, that Barbara would not let him talk; and before they left him—with Keep an incorruptible sentry at the door—he had fallen into a deep sleep. When they returned a couple hours later, he was awake and quite clear, and so determined to talk that Barbara could not but let him. He sat up in the bunk, but Barbara, bending shining eyes down close to his, laid him back upon the pillow.