Part 31 (1/2)
”There is still a faint smell of burning. Do you think all the trees in the forest will die, Major?”
”Old Adam says they will not,” answered the major. ”A three months'
unbroken drought will dry up almost anything but trees. Now, while the underbrush and dried fern burned like tinder, the fire hardly touched the trees. It was those dead bramble hedges dividing the fields and the dried meadow gra.s.s that did the most damage, because the sparks from them ignited the garage and the roof of the stable.”
”I am glad papa and Mrs. Thurston were not uneasy about us,” observed Ruth. ”If they had read the papers before you telegraphed, Major, they would have been frantic, I suppose.”
”Make way for the Duke of Granada,” called Jimmie's cheerful voice from the hall, and presently he appeared, pus.h.i.+ng Jose, done up in bandages and lying flat on his back, on a rolling cot used by some invalid of the Ten Eyck family long since dead and gone.
”Jose, my boy,” exclaimed the major, going to the foot of the cot to ease it as it pa.s.sed over the door sill, ”do you think this is safe?”
”The doctor says it will not hurt him,” replied Jimmie. ”He needs company, but we won't let him stay long.”
Jose smiled up at the faces leaning over him.
”You have all been so good to me,” he said. ”I want to thank you for your kindness and for believing in me when my character looked black enough to have condemned me without any more proof. And I want to thank you for my brother, too, and my poor little sister.”
His eyes filled with tears.
”There, there,” cried the major, pressing the boy's hand. ”It's a little enough we have done, I'm sure. I only wish we could have saved you from your tumble,” he added, gazing sadly toward the right wing of Ten Eyck Hall.
”And is it really true that our friends are going to leave us this afternoon?” asked Jose.
”Yes,” answered the major; ”all our girls and boys are going. We shall be lonesome enough when they are gone.”
There was the sound of a motor horn down the avenue.
”Ah, here comes Stephen at last. I was afraid he would be late,” said Major Ten Eyck, as his automobile pulled up at the door and Stephen, Martin and Alfred jumped out.
”I've got them, uncle,” cried Stephen. ”They arrived this morning.” And he handed his uncle a registered package carefully done up and sealed with red sealing wax.
The major took the box and disappeared into the house while the boys exchanged significant looks.
”Stephen,” said Bab, as they strolled down to the end of the-piazza while the others were examining the morning papers and reading their mail, ”did you ever ask Jose where he was the morning we went to see the hermit!”
”Oh, yes,” replied her friend; ”or, rather, he told me without being asked. He was to meet his brother by appointment at the haunted pool. I suppose he was there too soon, because Antonio chose to inflict us with his antics before he went to see Jose, who heard a great deal of the nonsense, so he said, and there was a quarrel afterwards, a very bitter one, and Jose threatened to give Antonio over to the authorities unless he consented to give up his lawless life. Zerlina was hovering around later, and heard the pistol shots after the fight with the tramps. She thought, of course, it was a duel between her two brothers. That is why she paid you the mysterious visit and tried to read the note.”
”How does Antonio strike you?” asked Bab.
”Just as a mischievous boy might. I think he will outgrow his vicious tendencies now that he has been taken hold of. For one thing he no longer hates poor old Jose. I told him, plainly, what a fine fellow his brother was, and that it was only on Jose's account we were not going to have him arrested. He seemed to be a good deal impressed, I think.”
”A note for you, Miss,” said John, handing Bab a three-cornered missive on a tray.
”Will Miss Barbara Thurston grant one last interview to an old admirer?”
the note ran.
”It's from your great-uncle,” exclaimed Bab, giving Stephen the note to read.
Stephen smiled as his eye took in the crabbed, old-fas.h.i.+oned handwriting.