A Sweet Little Maid by Amy Ella Blanchard (free e reader TXT) 📕

was freed from it she began to wave it frantically. "I see some one on shore," she exclaimed, excitedly. "All shout as loud as you can, girls;" and across the water rang the shrill cry of "Help! Help! Help!"

The man riding along the shore caught sight of the flapping skirt, of hats waving frantically, and the cry of "help" came faintly to his ears. He stopped his horse and looked around. "Them gals is adrift," he said to himself. "Whatever possessed 'em I don't know, but I reckon I'll have to see if I can't stop 'em."

He rode to the water's edge and looked across. "We're right at the ford," he remarked, as if his horse could understand what he said. "It won't hurt you to go out," he continued. "It's a hot day, and you can get cooled off good." And the girls in the boat were rejoiced to see the horse headed toward them.

"Oh, how lucky that we're at the ford," said Callie, "otherwise the man might not venture. See, Eleanor! See, Florence, he can tow us in. Haul up that bit of rope, girls, while I put on my skirt."

The man was not long in coming alongside. "What happened ye?" he asked. "A lot o' gals like you ain't no business gittin' into such a fix. Whar did ye start from, anyhow? How long ye been driftin'?"

They told him how the trouble had occurred, and he replied with, "Humph! I reckon ye'd better not try that agin. You're a matter o' five mile from home, and the boat don't belong to ye, ye say. How do ye expect to git back? And how are ye going to manage about the boat? Do ye know whose it is?"

"No, but we can find out," said Callie. "What do you think would be the best way to get it home again? Isn't it a dreadful fix to be in? Can you suggest any way to help us?"

"I might take it up for ye to-morrow, maybe, but ye'll have to pay for it."

"How much would you charge us?"

"Lemme see; a couple of dollars."

The girls looked at each other, and held a whispered consultation which resulted in Callie's agreeing to the amount, each girl promising to put in her share.

The boat was easily towed to the shore; but here it was wet and slippery, and it required considerable agility to get ashore without slipping in the soft mud. Every one accomplished it safely but Dimple, whose foot slipped, and over she went, full length into the mire. A sorry sight she was indeed, when she was picked up; plastered from head to foot; face, hands and hair full of the soft ooze. But after she had been scraped off, Callie concluded that it would be better to let the sun dry her well, before attempting to get rid of the rest.

"About this job," said the man, "it's worth somethin', ain't it? It's considerable out of my way, travelin' to the middle of the river; besides I've got to look out for that boat, that nobody don't steal it."

"How much do you expect?" asked Callie, meekly. This was getting more and more serious.

"A couple of dollars ain't much when ye consider there's five of ye, and if I hadn't stopped ye, ye'd be goin' yet. My name's Bill Hart, and any one'll tell you I'm safe. Ye needn't be afraid but what I'll bring back the boat."

"Well, if you will come to my house, you shall have your money," said Callie. "Do you know where Mr. Harley Spear lives?"

"Big white house, left side the main street. Yes, I know. You his gal?"

"I'm his daughter."

"All right. I reckon ye can git home now, can't ye? It's a straight road along the river. I must be gettin' on. I'll fetch the boat back to-morrow."

The girls saw him disappear, and stood, a most subdued little group. Dimple felt herself to be in a very unhappy plight, and dreaded meeting any one. How should she get home through the town without being seen? She looked very miserable and woe-begone as she thought of all this.

"Well, girls, we'll have to be up and doing," said Callie. "We've a five mile walk before us, and it's a pretty hot day, so we'll have to take it slowly. You'll have plenty of time to get dried off, before we get there, Eleanor, so don't look so unhappy, you poor little midget. Think how dreadful it is for me who got you into this scrape. I can never forgive myself for it."

"I'll tell you what let's do," said Libbie. "Let Eleanor take off her frock, and we'll wash it out in the river, and dry it as we go along. We're not likely to meet any one, and it's so hot she'll not take cold going without it. We can hold it out between us as we walk along, so it will dry before we get home, and it will be clean at least."

Dimple was so grateful for this suggestion that she could have hugged Libbie; but she did not know her very well, and only expressed her thanks very fervently. At the first opportunity the frock was washed out, and really looked much better. "I wish I could do my stockings, too," said Dimple, "but I couldn't go barefoot. Mamma wouldn't like me to, although I'd like to." So this part of her dress had to remain as it was, and the girls took up their line of march again.

"I am so thirsty I don't know what to do," said Callie. "If I don't have a drink I'll drop by the way. I hate to think of drinking that warm river water; besides, it isn't so easy to get it."

"There's a spring somewhere further along," said Emma Bradford. "If we can manage to exist till we reach it, we can rest there. We shall be half starved, too, by the time we get home."

"If we only had something to eat we could sit down by the spring till it grew cooler, and we'd have a sort of a picnic. Oh, girls, we left all our fishing tackle in the boat! I never once thought of it."

"Nor I."

"Nor I."

"Perhaps Bill What's-his-name will bring it back when he comes with the boat. We've made a pretty expensive trip of it, as it is, without losing our fishing tackle. Think what that four dollars would buy: such a lot of ice cream and soda water," said Callie.

"Don't mention such things when we are consumed with thirst, and are so warm," said Emma.

"We may have to pay for the use of the boat, too," said Libbie. "I suppose we are out at least a dollar apiece, and maybe more. It will take all my pin money for a month. No more soda water for a while, unless some one treats me."

"I suppose we ought to be thankful to get home at all," Dimple spoke up.

"Yes, when you consider it in that light, we're let off cheaply enough," Callie replied. "Oh, dear, where is that spring?"

"Just beyond that turn," Emma told her. And they toiled on till they reached the spot where the cold water bubbled out from a pebbly hollow under an old tree.

"We must cool off before we drink," Libbie warned them. "We'll bathe our faces and hands, and sit here for a while. We are so overheated we ought not to drink right away."

"It's very hard not to," said Callie, "but I suppose you are right."

"I am as hungry as I am thirsty," Libbie remarked. "If we only had one biscuit apiece, it would be something."

They had refreshed themselves with the cool spring water, and were idly sitting under a tree, when Dimple sprang up, crying, "I see something!" And she scrambled up the bank to a ledge beyond. "Girls! girls! here are lots of huckleberries," she called.

"Are you sure?"

"Certain sure. I wish you'd see. Come up." And they clambered up to the spot to find that she spoke truly: there was a patch of huckleberry bushes full of fruit. They set to work with a will and bore their feast down to the spring, near which they seated themselves on a fallen log.

"Did you ever taste anything so good?" said Emma. "I never care much for huckleberries at home, but I shall never despise them again."

Being refreshed they took up their journey again. Weary and warm they at length reached home, glad indeed to see the familiar streets, shady and quiet.

"I am going to see you safely in your mother's hands," Callie assured Dimple; "for it was my fault that you got into trouble. I had no business to tempt you."

"But you only meant it out of kindness," replied Dimple, appreciatively. "I think you were very good to want us; and it would have been all right if the boat had not floated off that way."

"But we did float off, and I want to explain matters to your mother."

"I'll give you the dollar I have in my bank," said Dimple.

"No, wait till we find out about the other man; the one who owns the boat. When he understands that we didn't mean any harm, and that it was an accident, perhaps he won't charge for the boat, and then we'll only have to pay eighty cents apiece. I don't want to take any money of yours if I can help it."

"Oh, but you must. I'm sure mamma will say so."

"Well, we'll see. Just look how nicely your frock has dried. It doesn't look bad at all. A little limp maybe, but it's better that than muddy. I hope your mamma isn't very much worried. I don't believe it is so late after all." And although it seemed to Dimple that she had been days away from home, she was surprised to find that it was only about four o'clock, when hot and hungry they arrived at home.

Callie made her excuses and apologies as contritely as possible, and Mrs. Dallas was so relieved to find that nothing worse had happened, that she said very little in the way of reproof to the two runaways.

"You must never go down to the river again, my children," she said; "that is, unless papa or I, or some trustworthy person is with you. I should have forbidden you to go this time, but you have never ventured there before."

"I know, mamma," replied Dimple, "but it was so easy getting there from Mr. Atkinson's place, that we were there before we knew it. Was it 'Didn't think,' mamma?"

"Not exactly. I suppose you hardly realized that you were doing wrong since there were older girls with you, and it was more of an accident than actual wrongdoing. I think we shall have to keep you at home hereafter, for it seems very easy for little folks to get into trouble when they are away from their mothers. You have your own garden and your own little house to play in, so I think we must set the bounds there, and only allow you to go outside our premises by special invitation."

"Not even to Mr. Atkinson's?"

"No, I think not, dear. It is safer for you at home. Mamma has been greatly worried and distressed, and I am sure you do not want her to pass through such an anxious time again.