FRIENDS AND COUSINS

TOM BECOMES AN OUTLAW

FRIENDS AND COUSINS

BY ABBIE FARWELL BROWN

ILLUSTRATED BY ETHEL C. BROWN

BOSTON AND NEW YORK HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY The Riverside Press, Cambridge 1907

COPYRIGHT 1907 BY ABBIE FARWELL BROWN ALL RIGHTS RESERVED Published September 1907

ILLUSTRATIONS

FRIENDS AND COUSINS

CHAPTER I THE WIGWAM

WHEN, after a long winter in the city, Kenneth and Rose came back to the Island which was their summer home, they were eager to see all their favorite places.

On the very first morning they both wanted to visit the bathing beach and the Indian forest, the chasm and the pirate cave. They wanted to know what new wonders had sprouted in the garden of live flowers, and how much their little oak tree had grown. They wanted to see if there were any deer tracks down by the spring, and if there was still a wasp’s nest in a certain spot under the stone wall. Besides, there was the beech tree, where Rose had her summer-house; and the theatre among the rocks, where they used to speak pieces; and[2] the post office in the hollow pine,—and a hundred other places which they loved. It was very hard to choose. But finally they decided that most they wanted to see the wigwam in the forest.

They had discovered the wigwam in the forest by accident one day last summer, and they had seen it only that once; for the very next day they went back to the city. What a pity they had not found it sooner! Kenneth and Rose could hardly wait for summer to come so that they could visit it again; it was such a lovely place in which to play Indian hunter.

This first morning was not a very good one for a walk in the woods. It was gray and misty, threatening rain before night. But the children were not going to postpone their plans on that account. Kenneth put on his Indian suit, and took his bow and arrows. Rose wore her moccasins and wampum belt. Kenneth was sure that he remembered the way to the wigwam, although it was a long distance and he had gone but once.

[3]The forest came close to the back door of Sweetbrier Cottage, and the children entered it by the same path up which the little Prouts came every day to bring the milk. Presently they came to another path, which branched to the right. This one was very narrow and indistinct, difficult to follow even in bright sunlight, but Kenneth remembered it well.

Soon they were in the midst of the dim, gray-green forest. The trees were so thick that there was little sunshine here, even on a pleasant day. They trotted happily along, their feet crunching the dry twigs and springing on the elastic moss. How good it seemed to feel the pine needles under foot, instead of brick sidewalks and asphalt!

The path grew fainter and fainter. It wavered and branched and strayed off in every direction, as if it were not quite sure which way to go. But Kenneth seemed to know where to turn, just as Indian hunters always do. Rose thought him wonderful. She did not remember anything at all except the[4] greenness of the moss and ferns and the brownness of the tree-trunks. On they went, farther and farther.

“I think we are almost there now,” said Kenneth at last. “I remember that old dead pine, don’t you, Rose?”

“No,” said Rose honestly. “I don’t remember. But I do think we must be almost there. It seems a long, long way.”

But when they came into the open space beyond the pine tree, there was no wigwam waiting them. Kenneth looked surprised.

“Well, it must be just a little farther,” he said. And they trudged on. It was growing darker and darker in the forest. A gray veil seemed to be drawing around them, hiding the way. Rose shivered.

“I wish I had worn my coat,” she said. “I think it is going to rain, Kenneth. Don’t you think we had better go home?”

“No, indeed!” cried Kenneth. “We are almost there now. Yes,—I remember that oak tree with the big rock beside it. I am sure we[5] are there now;” and he brushed eagerly through the bushes.

But when they passed the oak tree, there was no wigwam. Rose shook her curls uneasily. “I want to go home,” she said. “It isn’t nice in the forest when there is no sunshine. The trees are full of gray smoke. I wish we had waited for a sunny day.”

“It isn’t smoke, it is fog,” said Kenneth. “I am sure that this was the place, but the wigwam is gone. Somebody must have pulled it down. Perhaps the Indians themselves came back.”

Rose looked over her shoulder anxiously. “Let’s go home,” she said.

“Well, perhaps we had better,” agreed Kenneth. He remembered that sometimes the Island fogs grew so thick that even the fishermen were afraid of losing their way.

They turned about and started towards the little thin path which they had left a few minutes earlier. But where had the path gone? They could not find it anywhere. The fog[6] was creeping around them so that they could see scarcely ten feet ahead. Kenneth took Rose by the hand, and together they stumbled on over the moss and dead branches. But still they found no path. Every few minutes they would stop and look about, and then, fearing that they were going wrong, would start in another direction. The fog grew thicker, and they could hardly see one another. Kenneth’s cap was dewed with heavy drops, and Rose’s curls looked almost as though she had been in bathing.

She squeezed Kenneth’s hand tightly. “Are we lost, Kenneth?” she asked, in a brave voice.

“No, we aren’t lost,” he answered. “We know where we are,—right in the middle of the forest. But I can’t remember the way home. Let us shout. Perhaps some one will hear us and show us the way.”

They shouted as loudly as they could,—“Hello! Hello! Hello-o-o!” again and again; but nobody answered. There was not[7] a sound in the forest; only cold, damp, gray fog came sifting silently everywhere.

“I wish we hadn’t come,” said Rose. “Shall we get home before night? I shouldn’t like to sleep in the forest. There might be snakes.”

Suddenly they ran into something like a wooden fence. “Hurrah!” cried Kenneth. “Look, Rose, here is the wigwam now. I told you we were near it all the time.”

Kenneth was right. There they stood in the very door of the wigwam, which had been hidden by the fog.

They gave a shout of joy and went inside. Yes, there it stood, just as they had left it a year ago. There was the piny roof, the pile of brush for a sofa; the little heap of stones which had been their play stove; the cupboard made of a hollow log.

“Somebody has been in our house,” said Kenneth, like the Great Big Bear in the story. “Here are some pieces of broken crockery.”

“Somebody has been sitting on our sofa,” cried Rose, like the Middle-sized Bear, “and[8] she has left her shawl. See!”—she held up a plaid shawl. “It is nice and warm. I am going to put it on.”

“It is an Indian blanket,” said Kenneth. “And look! Somebody has been into our cupboard and has left something to eat!” he cried, like the Little Wee Bear. He held up a pail full of blueberries, big and ripe and luscious. “Rose, it must be the Indians!”

Both the children glanced at the door and shivered. Never had the Indians seemed so near. It was very creepy here alone in the forest. The fog might be hiding all sorts of dangers which they could not see.

But soon Rose took courage. “I don’t believe it was Indians,” she said. “Indians don’t leave things all ready for lost children. It must be the fairies. I knew there were fairies in this forest. I have told you so, Kenneth, ever so many times. I am hungry and I am going to eat the berries. If the fairies left them it will be perfectly safe.”

“Pooh!” said Kenneth, who did not believe[9] in fairies. But he decided to help eat the berries. The two sat down on the pine-bough sofa and began to dip out handful after handful. And the luncheon tasted so good that they spoke hardly a word for five minutes. The wigwam was as quiet as before they had come.

CHAPTER II INDIANS

SUDDENLY, outside the wigwam, a twig snapped. There was,—yes, there certainly was a rustle in the bushes. Steps were creeping towards the wigwam. It sounded like an Indian. Kenneth grabbed his bow and arrows. Rose kept very still, but her fingers trembled. They both sat staring at the door of the wigwam.

Stealthily a face came peering around the side of the door—a dark, reddish-brown face, with bright eyes. Then another face appeared; then another. It seemed as if the fog were full of eager faces and shiny, black eyes.

“It is the Indians!” said Kenneth to himself. “At last they have really come!” He lifted his bow and pointed the arrow at the face of the tallest Indian. But just as he was about to let the arrow fly, the head in the doorway moved and a voice cried,—

KENNETH AND ROSE SEE A STRANGE FACE IN THE WIGWAM

[11]“Don’t shoot! I am a friend.”

Kenneth’s arm dropped with surprise, and as it did so a figure stole into the tent. Behind it, out of the fog, crept five other figures in Indian file, each shorter than the one before it. They were none of them big or terrible. The tallest was about Kenneth’s own height, and the smallest was hardly more than a baby. Three of them were boys and three were girls, and the little ones kept behind the others as if they were afraid.

“Ho!” said Kenneth. “I thought at first you were Indians!” and he began to laugh.

The biggest boy laughed, too. “No, we aren’t Indians,” he said shyly. “We are Captain Prout’s children from the Cove. I am Tom and this is Mary. That one with the freckles is Susan, and the three little ones are Bill and Bob and Jane.”

“The little Prouts!” exclaimed Rose; and they all looked at one another curiously. Although[12] Kenneth and Rose had been coming to the Island for years, this was the first time that they had stood face to face with their little neighbors who brought the milk every morning. The Prout children had always been very shy. After they had stared for some time, Kenneth remembered to be polite.

“How do you do?” he said. “I am Kenneth Thornton, and this is my sister Rose.”

“Oh, we know who you are,” said Mary Prout, “and we knew you came yesterday. We heard you yell for help just now, and we guessed where we’d find you. We were right close by. We were coming back to get the berries that Sue left here,”—she stopped abruptly, seeing the empty pail which Rose was holding.

“Oh, I am so sorry!” said Rose. “We have eaten all your lovely berries; but we thought the fairies had brought them to us.” Then they all laughed and felt better acquainted. “I suppose this is your shawl, too?” asked Rose, pulling it off.

[13]“Yes,” said Mary, “but you are very welcome to it and the berries, too. I am so glad we left them here!”

“But how did you know about our wigwam?” said Kenneth.

The little Prouts looked at one another and laughed. “Why, you see,” said Tom, “we thought it was our wigwam. We built it, you know”—

“You built it!” interrupted Kenneth and Rose together.

“We thought it was the Indians,” explained Kenneth.

“What clever children you are!” said Rose admiringly.

The little Prouts looked pleased and proud. The three smallest ones stole out from behind Tom and Mary and Sue, and stood in a half circle around Kenneth and Rose.

“Then we had no right to come here at all,” said Kenneth, much mortified. “We were very rude to walk into your house and eat up your berries and wear your shawl. But we did not[14] know. Come, Rose;” and he started for the door.

“Oh, please don’t go!” begged Tom and Mary together. And Susan and Bill and Bob and Jane said, “Please don’t go!”

“Won’t you stay and play Indian hunter, the way you did that day last year?” said Tom eagerly.

“Why, how did you know about that?” asked Kenneth, in surprise. “You were not here.”

“Yes, we were,” nodded Mary. “We were right over there behind the big rock. We watched you all the time.”

“Why didn’t you come and play with us?” said Rose. “It would have been so much nicer with eight of us, instead of two.”

The faces of the little Prouts lighted up joyously. “Oh, would you play with us?” said Tommy.

“We didn’t dare, then,” said Mary shyly. “But now it’s different.”

Susan drew close to Rose and touched her[15] hand gently. “We know about ‘Brothers and Sisters’ now,” she said. “You told in the letter when you sent us the box of lovely Christmas things that we were all like brothers and sisters together, because we had one Father. So we aren’t going to be afraid of you any more. You were so kind to us!”

“Oh, that’s all right,” said Kenneth awkwardly, for he hated to be thanked. “We didn’t do anything. But it will be fine to have a big band of Indians and Pirates. Shall we play Indian now?”

“Yes!” they all cried, dancing up and down like real little Indians. And so they played together. Tommy was the Indian chief, and Rose, Bill, and little Jane were in his band. Kenneth was Hawkeye, the famous Indian hunter, with Mary for his trusty guide, and Susan and Bob were his scouts.

All that morning the foggy forest rang with the sound of war whoops and the shouts of victorious hunters, as the fights raged about the wigwam. It was great fun. The Indian[16] chief knew the woods so well that he could find his way everywhere, even in the thick fog. Hawkeye would have had a hard time trying to find him but for the service of his brave scouts. As it was, they had some narrow escapes from being scalped. But they finally captured Jane-Little-Injun as their prisoner.

By this time they knew, because of their hungriness, that it must be noon. So they called a parley with the Indians, and smoked a peace pipe—Susan found one growing in the forest.

“I suppose we must go home,” said Kenneth, with a sigh. Then his face fell. The fog was thicker than ever, and he knew that he could never find his way home. He hated to confess it to the Indian chief. But Tommy Prout was a thoughtful Indian.

“We have smoked the peace pipe,” he said. “Now we Indians will go with Hawkeye and his braves and show you the quick trail home.”

And back through the fog they went in[17] Indian file, talking and laughing and telling one another about things which were so different in the city and on the Island; for the little Prouts were full of eager questions about the city, which they had never seen, while Kenneth and Rose were just as anxious to know what the Island was like in the winter.

When they reached the broad path by the back door, Tommy and the other Prout children said good-by, and started back to the Cove, because it was late, and their father and mother did not know where they were.

“Good-by,” said Kenneth and Rose.

“Don’t forget to come to-morrow to play with us again,” added Kenneth.

“Be sure and bring your dolls,” said Rose to the little girls. “And they shall all play with my Alice under the beech tree.”

You can imagine whether or not the little Prouts promised to come.

CHAPTER III THE ANTS’ FIRE-ESCAPE

IT was not quite bedtime; for they had tea early at the Island, so that after the fire was lighted in the big chimney the children might have a little hour with the grown-ups for a game or a story, or for whatever pleasant thing might happen.

Kenneth and Rose ran to get their fat cushions, and put them down in the two corners of the hearth. Kenneth’s cushion was red, and he always sat on the right hand of the fireplace. Rose’s cushion was blue, and she sat on the left.

Papa began to poke the fire to make it burn more brightly, for it was not so big and bustling a blaze as usual.

“Somebody forgot to fill the wood-box,” he said. “We need a nice crisp birch log to make[19] the fire crackle. Who wants to run out to the wood-pile and bring one in?”

“I do!” cried Kenneth, jumping up eagerly.

“Oh, I do!” cried Rose, jumping up too.

“Well, you may both go,” said Papa. “And between you I think you can bring in a good big one. But mind not to trip over it.”

Out they ran to the wood-pile, which was close behind the house on the edge of the forest, where Rose suspected that the fairies lived, and where Kenneth was sure that there were Indians. But neither Kenneth nor Rose was afraid. They were very brave children, especially by daylight.

“Here is a nice little log,” said Rose.

“Oh, that isn’t half big enough,” cried Kenneth scornfully. “Let’s carry this one, Rose. This is something like;” and he seized one of the very largest logs in the wood-pile.

“All right,” said Rose; and she bravely stretched her little arms around the other end. They tugged and they tugged, and they grunted and grunted, and they pulled and[20] pulled; and finally, after pushing and hauling and rolling and shoving it, they got the log up on to the piazza, where it fell with a bang! Out came their father and mother to see what all the noise meant.

“Mercy!” cried their mother. “How could you two children bring in such an enormous log as that? Aren’t your poor little backs broken?”

“I’m not so very small. I’m ten,” said Kenneth, drawing himself up.

“And I am seven,” said Rose proudly.

“Of course,” said their father; “it is good exercise for them, Mama, and will make them big and strong. Don’t you remember the story about the poor little girl who learned to carry a cow upstairs, and so the Prince married her?”

“Oh, how did she learn?” cried Rose eagerly. “Could I do it?”

“Why, you see, she carried the little calf upstairs every day—every day of its life. Of course it was growing all the time, so that before she knew it, the calf had become a big[21] cow, and the little girl was carrying the cow upstairs as easily as you please. Then the Prince came along and married her.”

“That sounds like one of Aunt Clare’s stories,” said Rose.

“What did he want to marry her for?” asked Kenneth. “Princes’ wives don’t need to carry cows, do they?”

“Well, I forget the rest of the story,” said Papa. “But there was a reason; a very good reason indeed, if I could only remember it. There always is a reason for things in fairy stories, isn’t there, Rosie?”

“Yes, indeed!” said Rose. But Kenneth sniffed.

Papa seized the big log in both arms as easily as the Princess did the cow, carried it in and threw it on the fire, which spouted up with a burst of sparks, like a fiery fountain. The bark began to crackle deliciously. Rose and Kenneth cuddled down on their cushions, one on each side of the fire, and watched the little tongues of flame lick the old log greedily.[22] They loved the fire. Usually it made somebody think of a story.

Suddenly Rose cried out “Oh!” so loudly that even Kenneth jumped. Rose was pointing into the fire, and her forehead was puckered with distress.

“Why, what is it, Rose?” asked her mother.

“Oh, oh!” cried Rose again. “Oh, the poor little ants! Do look!”

Sure enough! the old log must have been an ants’ house. The poor little things were creeping out of the holes in it and scurrying wildly about in every direction, seeking a way of escape from their dwelling, which was growing hotter and hotter every minute.

The foremost of them tried to climb down the andirons. But these were too hot, and soon they went scurrying back again. They grew wilder and wilder, wandering about crazily as if they did not know what to do. Their home was surrounded by flame on every side. Some of them tried to jump down. But[23] Rose shuddered to see the poor things fall into the fire or upon the hot hearth and shrivel up into sad little cinders. It was too dreadful!

“Oh, Mama and Papa, what shall we do?” she cried. “I cannot bear to see them. It is just like a house full of people being burned, with nobody to help. Kenneth, can’t we do something?”