Chapter XIII: Peter Meets with a Serious Accident

ON the same afternoon upon which Mrs. Wentworth Ward was to arrive at Glen Arden, and which Peter spent in the woods, Roger Madison came home on an early train from Boston and invited his sister to go out on the river with him. Although Margaret was fully ten years older than himself, and therefore had been grown up when he was still a small boy, she had always been his dearest companion. They rode and drove and fished together, they played and sang, they read the same books and loved the same pictures, and the pleasure which came to one was deprived of half its value if it were not shared by the other.

On this May day therefore they were both more than content with their lot when, Margaret being comfortably placed in the canoe, Roger stepped in and pushed away from the shore.

“Up or down shall it be, Margaret?” he asked.

“Either. Anything is charming, even if we were to stay exactly where we are.”

“As you are so agreeable to anything, I think we will go up river. There are not apt to be so many people about there as there are in the neighborhood of Waterview and below. The river is wilder, too. What a beautiful winding stream the Charles is!”

He paddled quietly up stream, and they talked or not as they felt inclined, and drank in the sweet-scented air, and watched the turtles sunning themselves on the rocks, and listened to the hoarse croaking of the bullfrogs. Finally, as the sun sank in the west, they turned and floated down with the current.

“Those Starrs are very interesting girls, I think,” remarked Roger after a silence that had lasted for some moments. “Miss Katherine is very handsome, but the elder one’s face is very lovely. She is not as strictly beautiful perhaps, but her expression is such a noble one.”

“Katherine is more interesting to me,” said his sister; “I like Honor immensely, but she is more conventional than Katherine and more self-controlled. Katherine is full of fire and enthusiasm, and I like it. Plenty of faults, no doubt, but whole souled. Honor is charming, though, too.”

“They seem very jolly and have plenty of fun in them. How amusing it was last night.”

“Very; I like both the girls very much, and I am curious to meet the other one, Victoria, or Vic, as they call her. Though she is so young, she seems to be a moving spirit in the family. I wonder why we haven’t met her anywhere.”

“Apparently because she runs away from us. I was sure last evening that I caught a glimpse of some one peeping through the door at the back of the hall when that amiable maid of theirs was telling us that they had gone to bed,” said Roger, laughing at the recollection.

“It must be trying for them to give up so much and work so hard when they have been accustomed to such a different life,” said his sister. “Did you notice the pictures?”.

“Yes. They were chosen by some one with very good judgment. There were one or two water-colors on the wall that were excellent, and some fine etchings. I saw two by the same man who did the one that I gave you at Christmas, Margaret.”

“The one you bought of the girl in the picture store? I feel a special interest in that picture, Roger. I am forever imagining what kind of a girl she must have been and how she came to do that.”

“Because she had to, I suppose. She was a nice-looking little thing, and she was a lady. Not exactly pretty, but her face was interesting. I saw a photograph at the Starrs’ last night that reminded me of her. I meant to have told you.”

“I have a feeling that we shall see her again some day, because I am so deeply interested in her,” said Miss Madison, musingly. “I don’t think I could feel so about a person whom I am never to see. But what a keen-sighted person you are, Roger! Without appearing to look about, you seem to have absorbed every picture in that room. I daresay you could tell me the titles of all the books in the cases and the music in the music racks!”

“As well as the number of roses in that child’s wreath,” said Roger, laughing; “I wouldn’t have missed that sight for the world. What’s the matter with that dog?” he asked suddenly.

They were about to pass under a railroad bridge not far from their own home. Standing on the bridge, very near the edge and almost falling over in his efforts to make himself heard, was an ungainly-looking yellow dog. He was barking madly, occasionally varying the sound by piteous whines and yelps of entreaty. Roger paused and looked up.

“What’s the matter, old fellow?” he said kindly. “You had better get off the track. You will be run over, for it is almost time for a train.”

Upon hearing his friendly voice, the dog darted from the bridge and came running and tumbling down the steep bank to the river’s edge, where he renewed his barks and yelping, turning to run up the bank a little way and then looking back to see if Roger were coming.

“Something must be the matter, Roger,” said Miss Madison; “do go and see! A dog wouldn’t behave that way unless there was some trouble.”

Roger pushed up to shore, and then handing the paddle to his sister he jumped out and scrambled up the bank, the dog pausing for a moment to leap about with delight and then running before, stopping at intervals, however, to make sure that his new friend was close behind.

The bank was high and steep, but when the top was at last reached, Roger Madison saw immediately the cause of the dog’s excitement. Upon the bridge, and lying between the rails with his face down, was the figure of a boy. The dog ran to him and licked his hands and ears, which were the only parts of him that were visible. Then he turned to Roger, whining piteously again, and at that moment was heard the whistle of a train that was leaving Waterview for its trip over the branch road. In less than two minutes it would reach the bridge.

Madison attempted to raise the boy, only to find that his foot was caught between the rail and one of the sleepers in some curious way. He must move him cautiously or he would do him injury. Far below was the river, and the boy was lying half-way across the bridge. There was but a single track here; it would be necessary to carry him to one end or the other, and the train was coming. There was no chance that the engineer would see him in time to stop, for it was growing dark rapidly, and there was a curve in the road shortly before this part of it was reached. Should he never be able to extricate the boy’s foot?

At last it was free. Standing on the narrow bridge through the openings of which the river beneath seemed so far away, and with the puff of the engine drawing nearer and nearer, Roger raised the lad in his arms and then ran with him to the farther bank. As he stepped from one end of the bridge the train reached the other, and in a second more it passed him as he stood by the track, his burden in his arms.

But what was the heart-rending cry which sounded in his ears as the train rolled by? What had happened? Roger Madison, strong man though he was, felt almost faint at the thought. Had the dog saved his master’s life only to lose his own? It could not be.

But it was so. Sirius had not stirred from Peter’s side until he saw him in a place of security; what happened afterwards no one ever knew. Probably in his ecstasy at the boy’s safety he had forgotten his own danger and jumped back upon the track; but whatever the cause, the train passed over him. He lost his life in saving the beloved master who had once rescued him from a cruel death. And who, whether dog or man, can ask for a more glorious end than this?

In the meantime Miss Madison, surmising that something serious was the matter, had left the canoe drawn up upon the bank, and had herself climbed up to the top. She reached it soon after the train had passed and found her brother bending over the still form of the boy, who lay by the side of the railroad.

“Who do you suppose it is, Margaret?” said he. “We had better take him to the Starrs’. It is the nearest house.”

“It may be Peter Starr, Roger!” exclaimed Miss Madison. “I shouldn’t wonder at all if it were, and he looks something like them, as well as I can see in this light. He has a dog, you know.”

“He has one no longer, then,” said Roger, briefly. “The dog is dead.”

“Roger, how terrible! What will the poor boy say? But I had better run before and prepare them. Roger, are you sure the boy is alive?”

But even as she spoke, the lad stirred slightly and opened his eyes.

“Sirius,” he murmured faintly; “come here, sir!” Then he lost consciousness again.

“It is Peter Starr,” said Margaret. “The dog’s name was Sirius. Follow slowly, Roger. You must give me time to prepare them.”

She ran through the woods which bordered on the river bank, and then emerging upon the open lawn, she hastened towards the house. Apparently the family were at supper, for no one was to be seen. Miss Madison opened the front door without ceremony, and greatly to the astonishment of the Starrs—including Mrs. Ward—appeared at the door of the dining-room.

“Is your brother at home?” she asked breathlessly. Though she tried to speak calmly, it was easy to see that something was the matter.

“No,” said Honor, “we were just wondering—Miss Madison, what is it?” She pushed back her chair and rose to her feet, as did also Katherine and Victoria. A certainty that something serious had taken place filled the hearts of all.

“What is it?” said they together.

“Don’t look so frightened,” said Miss Madison. “He isn’t dead; he is only hurt a little, and Roger is bringing him. We found him. See; they are coming now.”

They looked across the lawn, and saw Roger Madison moving towards the house with a burden in his arms. Could it be Peter? Madison, who was tall and very strong, carried him as easily as he would have carried a child of five, although Peter was tall for his age and was no light weight.

“Some one get a bed ready for him,” said Margaret, “and send at once for a doctor. In the meantime I will help you. I know a little about surgery.”

Honor and Katherine had run to meet their brother, but Victoria was ready to do what she was told.

“Aunt Sophia, please send Dave Carney for the doctor,” said she. “He is in the kitchen, I think. I will go upstairs.”

“And I will go with you,” said Miss Madison.

* * * * *

It was much later in the evening, and Peter was now quite comfortable. The doctor had gone after having set the broken leg and having assured the Starrs that, although the injury was serious, there was nothing about it which need alarm them. The Madisons went home after the doctor came, but Roger intended to return to inquire for the patient. As yet, nothing had been said about the fate of Sirius. Peter had been asking for him ever since he regained consciousness, and his sisters, supposing the dog to be at the barn, had promised to give him his supper. The doctor had left orders that Peter should be kept very quiet, and that Sirius should not be admitted to his room.

Honor was with her brother now, and Katherine and Victoria were in their aunt’s room. She had arrived by the designated train that afternoon, accompanied by her maid, her canaries, and several trunks. The bustle which her coming had caused had scarcely subsided before supper was announced, and then had ensued the excitement about Peter. Now, at half-past eight, she had requested the attendance of Katherine and Victoria in her room while she unpacked and settled herself for the summer.

“I want to talk over your affairs,” said she. “Now that I am really here I wish to be right in your midst. What have you been living on? How much have you made in that ridiculous school and those senseless violets? Why people should spend their money on violets I can’t imagine. They only fade.”

“Don’t you think we had better wait until to-morrow?” suggested Victoria, mildly, as she watched her aunt’s energetic movements about the room. Mrs. Ward had made it clear to them in the beginning that she wished no assistance in her unpacking.

“Then you could talk to Honor about it,” continued Victoria, “and to-night we are so worried about Peter.”

“No need for worry,” rejoined Mrs. Wentworth Ward, briskly. “The boy is in no danger, the doctor said. How he ever got into such a predicament I can’t imagine. If your friends the Madisons hadn’t happened along just when they did—”

“Oh, Aunt Sophia, don’t!” cried Victoria. “It is too horrible to put into words. How can we ever thank the Madisons enough!”

“Do you know how they happened to find him?”

“No, we haven’t heard,” said Victoria, while Katherine added:

“Mr. Madison said he would come back later and tell us all about it.”

“Humph!” said her aunt, looking at her shrewdly while she shook out and refolded her garments. “Who are these Madisons?”

“Very nice people,” replied Katherine, with exaggerated indifference.

“So you seem to find them, and they apparently take an active part in your household affairs. I was amused at Miss Madison! Running upstairs without ever saying ‘by your leave’! But if they are related to the Roger Madisons, they are all that one would wish.”

“The brother’s name is Roger,” said Victoria.

“Oh,” remarked Mrs. Wentworth Ward, “then I have nothing to say.”

“After saving Peter’s life I think they are at liberty to do anything they like,” said Katherine, with the asperity which intercourse with her aunt never failed to bring to the surface. “And if they were not the Roger Madisons, what would you have to say, Aunt Sophia?”

Victoria, dreading an argument, abruptly turned the conversation by introducing the matter of the typewriter. It was, perhaps, a case of leaping from the frying-pan into the fire, but she felt that anything would be preferable to a lengthy discussion of the Madisons between her aunt and Katherine, who never, under any circumstances, were known to agree, and who each possessed to the last degree the power of irritating the other.

Sophy, meanwhile, had been shut out completely both from Peter’s room and from that of her aunt. She had been told by her sisters to go to bed, but as they had failed to enforce the command, she had not yet obeyed it. Instead, she wandered disconsolately over the house, even seeking Blanch in the kitchen, although she was not a favorite with the child. Sophy was discriminating, and her prejudices were strong.

She found Blanch engaged in a spirited discussion with the lately arrived maid from Beacon Street, and her presence was so completely ignored by them both, that she left the kitchen and returned to the main part of the house.

Glancing from the window at the side of the front door, she saw Mr. Madison approaching, and she opened the door and gladly welcomed him.

“Won’t you come and talk to me?” she said in a forlorn little voice. “I’m all alone. I can’t go to Peter’s room, and I can’t find Sirius, and Aunt Sophia doesn’t want me. Don’t you think if somebody was named for you, you’d like to have ’em in your room when you were unpacking?”

“Indeed I should!” said Madison, seating himself in the parlor, while Sophy took another chair and prepared to entertain him, after the manner, as she thought, of her elder sisters when they had visitors.

“And Aunt Sophia is unpacking,” she continued, “and unpacking is such a very interesting thing to watch. I think she is asking questions, too. Aunt Sophia asks a great many questions. When I do, the girls say I’m curious, but they can’t say that to Aunt Sophia.”

“No, scarcely!” said Mr. Madison, who was greatly amused with his small hostess, but preserved a perfectly straight face.

“She thinks we ought to live with her, but we don’t want to. We would rather work for our living, and so we teach school and give music lessons and sell mushrooms and violets, and once Vic went to Boston and sold some gold things and some—oh, but I forgot! The girls told me not to tell anybody that.”

“No,” said Roger, gravely; “you had better not.”

“Perhaps when we get to know you very well, we’ll tell you all about what the man said to Vic, the young man—”

“Do you think I can see one of your sisters?” asked he, interrupting her. “I want to speak about Peter, and—well, to explain to them how I happened to find him. Will you call one of them? Tell them not to come if it isn’t convenient, though.”

Sophy, going upon this errand, met Victoria on the stairs.

“I am going to look for Sirius, Sophy,” said she, quite unconscious that some one was in the parlor. “It is strange that he isn’t about anywhere. Have you seen him?”

As she spoke, a man’s figure appeared in the doorway of the parlor.

“I want to tell you about the dog,” said Madison. “I didn’t have a chance—”

To his surprise the girl on the stairs turned and ran up again, leaving him with his sentence unfinished and without giving him a word of apology. It was most extraordinary behavior, Roger thought. Unquestionably, charming as the Starr sisters were, there was one among them who was peculiar. It was not the first time that Victoria had acted in the unaccountable fashion. Indeed, that very night, when he had carried Peter to his room, she had disappeared through one door as he came in the other. He should think that after having saved her brother’s life, she might treat him at least politely. However, she was only a little girl of fifteen, he said to himself, and probably knew no better how to behave. It was strange, though, for the others were undoubtedly well bred, and even little Sophy had good manners.

He was about to leave the house, too proud and too indignant to ask again to see any one, when Katherine came down.

“Sophy told me that you were here,” she said, “and I am so glad, for we want to thank you for all you have done. Vic is so upset with Peter’s accident that she couldn’t come down, but Honor will be here in a moment. Indeed, we cannot thank you enough!”

And then Honor came, and with tears in her eyes expressed her gratitude for what he had done for them. Madison described to them how and where he had found Peter, Sophy standing by his chair and drinking in every word.

“Then Sirius really saved Peter’s life,” said she.

“Yes, he was really the one; for if he hadn’t attracted my attention, I should never have known that he was there. Sirius was a brave, good dog.”

“Dear Sirius!” said Honor. “I didn’t like him when he first came here, but now I feel as if I couldn’t do enough for him.”

“I shall buy him a gold collar studded with diamonds the next time I go to Boston,” said Katherine.

“Kathie! Will you really?” asked Sophy. “And what will you buy for Mr. Madison?”

“He wouldn’t care for a gold collar,” laughed Katherine. “We shall have to do something else for him.”

“We cannot thank you enough,” said Honor again, very gravely. It scarcely seemed right to laugh when Peter had been so near death, and she felt that this debt of gratitude to Mr. Madison could never be repaid. There was a moment’s silence.

“Where do you suppose Sirius is?” said Sophy. “We haven’t seen him yet. I want to hug him for saving my only brother Peter.”

“My child, you will never see Sirius again,” said Roger. “He lost his own life when he saved Peter’s. He is dead.”

Sophy gazed at him for a moment in speechless astonishment. Then she buried her face in his arm.

“Sirius is dead!” she wailed. “Oh, what will Peter say?”