Under the Lilacs Page 18

  CHAPTER XVIII

  BOWS AND ARROWS

  If Sancho's abduction made a stir, one may easily imagine with whatwarmth and interest he was welcomed back when his wrongs and wanderingswere known. For several days he held regular levees, that curious boysand sympathizing girls might see and pity the changed and curtailed dog.Sancho behaved with dignified affability, and sat upon his mat in thecoach-house pensively eying his guests, and patiently submitting totheir caresses; while Ben and Thorny took turns to tell the few tragicalfacts which were not shrouded in the deepest mystery. If the interestingsufferer could only have spoken, what thrilling adventures andhair-breadth escapes he might have related. But, alas! he was dumb; andthe secrets of that memorable month never were revealed.

  The lame paw soon healed, the dingy color slowly yielded to manywashings, the woolly coat began to knot up into little curls, a newcollar, handsomely marked, made him a respectable dog, and Sancho washimself again. But it was evident that his sufferings were notforgotten; his once sweet temper was a trifle soured; and, with a fewexceptions, he had lost his faith in mankind. Before, he had been themost benevolent and hospitable of dogs; now, he eyed all strangerssuspiciously, and the sight of a shabby man made him growl and bristleup, as if the memory of his wrongs still burned hotly within him.

  Fortunately, his gratitude was stronger than his resentment, and henever seemed to forget that he owed his life to Betty,--running tomeet her whenever she appeared, instantly obeying her commands, andsuffering no one to molest her when he walked watchfully beside her,with her hand upon his neck, as they had walked out of the almost fatalbackyard together, faithful friends for ever.

  Miss Celia called them little Una and her lion, and read the prettystory to the children when they wondered what she meant. Ben, with greatpains, taught the dog to spell "Betty," and surprised her with a displayof this new accomplishment, which gratified her so much that she wasnever tired of seeing Sanch paw the five red letters into place, thencome and lay his nose in her hand, as if he added, "That's the name ofmy dear mistress."

  Of course Bab was glad to have everything pleasant and friendly again;but in a little dark corner of her heart there was a drop of envy, and adesperate desire to do something which would make every one in her smallworld like and praise her as they did Betty. Trying to be as good andgentle did not satisfy her; she must do something brave or surprising,and no chance for distinguishing herself in that way seemed likely toappear. Betty was as fond as ever, and the boys were very kind to her;but she felt that they both liked "little Betcinda," as they called her,best, because she found Sanch, and never seemed to know that she haddone any thing brave in defending him against all odds. Bab did not tellany one how she felt, but endeavored to be amiable, while waiting forher chance to come; and, when it did arrive, made the most of it, thoughthere was nothing heroic to add a charm.

  Miss Celia's arm had been doing very well, but would, of course, beuseless for some time longer. Finding that the afternoon readings amusedherself as much as they did the children, she kept them up, and broughtout all her old favorites enjoying a double pleasure in seeing that heryoung audience relished them as much as she did when a child for to allbut Thorny they were brand new. Out of one of these stories came muchamusement for all, and satisfaction for one of the party.

  "Celia, did you bring our old bows?" asked her brother, eagerly, as sheput down the book from which she had been reading Miss Edgeworth'scapital story of "Waste not Want not; or, Two Strings to your Bow."

  "Yes, I brought all the playthings we left stored away in uncle's garretwhen we went abroad. The bows are in the long box where you found themallets, fishing-rods, and bats. The old quivers and a few arrows arethere also, I believe. What is the idea now? asked Miss Celia in herturn, as Thorny bounced up in a great hurry.

  "I'm going to teach Ben to shoot. Grand fun this hot weather; andby-and-by we'll have an archery meeting, and you can give us a prize.Come on, Ben. I've got plenty of whip-cord to rig up the bows, and thenwe'll show the ladies some first-class shooting."

  "I can't; never had a decent bow in my life. The little gilt one I usedto wave round when I was a Coopid wasn't worth a cent to go," answeredBen, feeling as if that painted "prodigy" must have been a very distantconnection of the respectable young person now walking off arm in armwith the lord of the manor.

  "Practice is all you want. I used to be a capital shot, but I don'tbelieve I could hit any thing but a barn-door now," answered Thorny,encouragingly.

  As the boys vanished, with much tramping of boots and banging of doors,Bab observed, in the young-ladyish tone she was apt to use when shecomposed her active little mind and body to the feminine task ofneedlework,--

  "We used to make bows of whalebone when we were little girls, but we aretoo old to play so now."

  "I'd like to, but Bab won't, 'cause she 's most 'leven years old," saidhonest Betty, placidly rubbing her needle in the "ruster," as she calledthe family emery-bag.

  "Grown people enjoy archery, as bow and arrow shooting is called,especially in England. I was reading about it the other day, and saw apicture of Queen Victoria with her bow; so you needn't be ashamed of it,Bab," said Miss Celia, rummaging among the books and papers in her sofacorner to find the magazine she wanted, thinking a new play would be asgood for the girls as for the big boys.

  "A queen, just think!" and Betty looked much impressed by the fact, aswell as uplifted by the knowledge that her friend did not agree inthinking her silly because she preferred playing with a harmlesshome-made toy to firing stones or snapping a pop-gun.

  "In old times, bows and arrows were used to fight great battles with;and we read how the English archers shot so well that the air was darkwith arrows, and many men were killed."

  "So did the Indians have 'em; and I've got some stone arrow-heads,--found'em by the river, in the dirt!" cried Bab, waking up, for battlesinterested her more than queens.

  "While you finish your stints I'll tell you a little story about theIndians," said Miss Celia, lying back on her cushions, while the needlesbegan to go again, for the prospect of a story could not be resisted.

  "A century or more ago, in a small settlement on the banks of theConnecticut,--which means the Long River of Pines,--there lived alittle girl called Matty Kilburn. On a hill stood the fort where thepeople ran for protection in any danger, for the country was new andwild, and more than once the Indians had come down the river in theircanoes and burned the houses, killed men, and carried away women andchildren. Matty lived alone with her father, but felt quite safe in thelog house, for he was never far away. One afternoon, as the farmers wereall busy in their fields, the bell rang suddenly,--a sign that therewas danger near,--and, dropping their rakes or axes, the men hurriedto their houses to save wives and babies, and such few treasures as theycould. Mr. Kilburn caught up his gun with one hand and his little girlwith the other, and ran as fast as he could toward the fort. But beforehe could reach it he heard a yell, and saw the red men coming up fromthe river. Then he knew it would be in vain to try to get in, so helooked about for a safe place to hide Matty till he could come for her.He was a brave man, and could fight, so he had no thought of hidingwhile his neighbors needed help; but the dear little daughter must becared for first.

  "In the corner of the lonely pasture which they dared not cross, stood abig hollow elm, and there the farmer hastily hid Matty, dropping herdown into the dim nook, round the mouth of which young shoots had grown,so that no one would have suspected any hole was there.

  "Lie still, child, till I come; say your prayers and wait for father,'said the man, as he parted the leaves for a last glance at the small,frightened face looking up at him.

  "'Come soon,' whispered Matty, and tried to smile bravely, as a stoutsettler's girl should.

  "Mr. Kilburn went away, and was taken prisoner in the fight, carriedoff, and for years no one knew whether he was alive or dead. Peoplemissed Matty, but supposed she was with her father, and never expectedto see her again
. A great while afterward the poor man came back, havingescaped and made his way through the wilderness to his old home. Hisfirst question was for Matty, but no one had seen her; and when he toldthem where he had left her, they shook their heads as if they thought hewas crazy. But they went to look, that he might be satisfied; and hewas; for they they found some little bones, some faded bits of cloth,and two rusty silver buckles marked with Matty's name in what had oncebeen her shoes. An Indian arrow lay there, too, showing why she hadnever cried for help, but waited patiently so long for father to comeand find her."

  If Miss Celia expected to see the last bit of hem done when her storyended, she was disappointed; for not a dozen stitches had been taken.Betty was using her crash towel for a handkerchief, and Bab's lay on theground as she listened with snapping eyes to the little tragedy.

  "Is it true?" asked Betty, hoping to find relief in being told that itwas not.

  "Yes; I have seen the tree, and the mound where the fort was, and therusty buckles in an old farmhouse where other Kilburns live, near thespot where it all happened," answered Miss Celia, looking out thepicture of Victoria to console her auditors.

  "We'll play that in the old apple-tree. Betty can scrooch down, andI'll be the father, and put leaves on her, and then I'll be a greatInjun and fire at her. I can make arrows, and it will be fun, won't it?"cried Bab, charmed with the new drama in which she could act the leadingparts.

  "No, it won't! I don't like to go in a cobwebby hole, and have you playkill me, I'll make a nice fort of hay, and be all safe, and you can putDinah down there for Matty. I don't love her any more, now her last eyehas tumbled out, and you may shoot her just as much as yon like."

  Before Bab could agree to this satisfactory arrangement, Thornyappeared, singing, as he aimed at a fat robin, whose red waistcoatlooked rather warm and winterish that August day,--

  "So he took up his bow, And he feathered his arrow, And said, 'I will shoot This little cock-sparrow.'"

  "But he didn't," chirped the robin, flying away, with a contemptuousflirt of his rusty-black tail.

  "That is exactly what you must promise not to do, boys. Fire away atyour targets as much as you like, but do not harm any living creature,"said Miss Celia, as Ben followed armed and equipped with her ownlong-unused accoutrements.

  "Of course we won't if you say so; but, with a little practice, I couldbring down a bird as well as that fellow you read to me about with hiswoodpeckers and larks and herons," answered Thorny, who had much enjoyedthe article, while his sister lamented over the destruction of theinnocent birds.

  "You'd do well to borrow the Squire's old stuffed owl for a target;there would be some chance of your hitting him, he is so big," said hissister, who always made fun of the boy when he began to brag.

  Thorny's only reply was to send his arrow straight up so far out ofsight that it was a long while coming down again to stick quivering inthe ground near by, whence Sancho brought it in his mouth, evidentlyhighly approving of a game in which he could join.

  "Not bad for a beginning. Now, Ben, fire away."

  But Ben's experience with bows was small, and, in spite of hispraiseworthy efforts to imitate his great exemplar, the arrow onlyturned a feeble sort of somersault and descended perilously near Bab'suplifted nose.

  "If you endanger other people's life and liberty in your pursuit ofhappiness, I shall have to confiscate your arms, boys. Take the orchardfor your archery ground; that is safe, and we can see you as we sithere. I wish I had two hands, so that I could paint you a fine, gaytarget;" and Miss Celia looked regretfully at the injured arm, which asyet was of little use.

  "I wish you could shoot, too; you used to beat all the girls, and I wasproud of you," answered Thorny, with the air of a fond elder brother;though, at the time he alluded to, he was about twelve, and hardly up tohis sister's shoulder.

  "Thank you. I shall be happy to give my place to Bab and Betty if youwill make them some bows and arrows; they could not use those longones."

  The young gentlemen did not take the hint as quickly as Miss Celia hopedthey would; in fact, both looked rather blank at the suggestion, as boysgenerally do when it is proposed that girls--especially small ones--shalljoin in any game they are playing.

  "P'r'aps it would be too much trouble," began Betty, in her winninglittle voice.

  "I can make my own," declared Bab, with an independent toss of the head.

  "Not a bit; I'll make you the jolliest small bow that ever was,Belinda," Thorny hastened to say, softened by the appealing glance ofthe little maid.

  "You can use mine, Bab; you've got such a strong fist, I guess youcould pull it," added Ben, remembering that it would not be amiss tohave a comrade who shot worse than he did, for he felt very inferior toThorny in many ways, and, being used to praise, had missed it very muchsince he retired to private life.

  "I will be umpire, and brighten up the silver arrow I sometimes pin myhair with, for a prize, unless we can find something better," proposedMiss Celia, glad to see that question settled, and every prospect of thenew play being a pleasant amusement for the hot weather.

  It was astonishing how soon archery became the fashion in that town, forthe boys discussed it enthusiastically all that evening, formed the"William Tell Club" next day, with Bab and Betty as honorary members,and, before the week was out, nearly every lad was seen, like youngNorval, "With bended bow and quiver full of arrows," shooting away,with a charming disregard of the safety of their fellow citizens.Banished by the authorities to secluded spots, the members of the clubset up their targets and practised indefatigably, especially Ben, whosoon discovered that his early gymnastics had given him a sinewy arm anda true eye; and, taking Sanch into partnership as picker-up, he got moreshots out of an hour than those who had to run to and fro.

  Thorny easily recovered much of his former skill, but his strength hadnot fully returned, and he soon grew tired. Bab, on the contrary, threwherself into the contest heart and soul, and tugged away at the new bowMiss Celia gave her, for Ben's was too heavy. No other girls wereadmitted, so the outsiders got up a club of their own, and called it"The Victoria," the name being suggested by the magazine article, whichwent the rounds as a general guide and reference book. Bab and Bettybelonged to this club and duly reported the doings of the boys, withwhom they had a right to shoot if they chose, but soon waived the right,plainly seeing that their absence would be regarded in the light of afavor.

  The archery fever raged as fiercely as the base-ball epidemic had donebefore it, and not only did the magazine circulate freely, but MissEdgeworth's story, which was eagerly read, and so much admired that thegirls at once mounted green ribbons, and the boys kept yards ofwhip-cord in their pockets like the provident Benjamin of the tale.

  Every one enjoyed the new play very much, and something grew out of itwhich was a lasting pleasure to many, long after the bows and arrowswere forgotten. Seeing how glad the children were to get a new story,Miss Celia was moved to send a box of books--old and new--to thetown library, which was but scantily supplied, as country libraries areapt to be. This donation produced a good effect; for other people huntedup all the volumes they could spare for the same purpose, and the dustyshelves in the little room behind the post-office filled up amazingly.Coming in vacation time they were hailed with delight, and ancient booksof travel, as well as modern tales, were feasted upon by happy youngfolks, with plenty of time to enjoy them in peace.

  The success of her first attempt at being a public benefactor pleasedMiss Celia very much, and suggested other ways in which she might servethe quiet town, where she seemed to feel that work was waiting for herto do. She said little to any one but the friend over the sea, yetvarious plans were made then that blossomed beautifully by-and-by.