Chapter XIII: The “still” Cave

BY dawn the next morning, the little party set forth for the return trip across the mountains. The four had come the distance to Goose Creek on horses and mules hired from the school farm. Talitha was mounted on Dan Gooch’s sorrel he had unselfishly lent her, her father firmly refusing to allow his one mule to be taken from the place.

“I ’low they’ll find room on the farm fer the beastie, a spell,” said Dan, anxious to show Talitha a favour. “I’m reckonin’ on gettin’ down ter Bentville myself, come spring, ter see what the school air like and what you’re doin’ thar.”

“I wish you would make us a visit, Mr. Gooch,” urged Miss Howard, “and then come back and tell the Goose Creek folks all about it and bring them to Commencement.”

“You’d never know whar ter stow ’em all,” Dan smiled broadly.

“We’ll put up some tents on the campus,” put in Gincy. “You ought to see what a splendid, big place it is with such lovely trees—”

“It’s time we were starting,” called Martin in front, and the little cavalcade moved away. The sorrel was in the rear, but the faithful old beast did his best, and Talitha resolved that on reaching Bentville he should have a well-earned rest until his master came after him.

There was a wintry chill in the air, which was not surprising at that early hour. If the sun came out it would be delightful travelling. Martin watched the sky a little anxiously while the others laughed and chatted on unheeding. At last, over the bald peak of the mountain, the sun looked down at them through a veil of mist which gradually disappeared. A cool wind was all that prevented the day from being as delightful as the previous one had been. But their progress would necessarily be slow, for the sorrel proved to have little endurance. Talitha favoured him as much as possible by keeping behind the others and slipping down occasionally to walk beside him with encouraging pats.

“We can easily get as far as Joe Bradshaw’s,” said Martin. “They’ll be looking for us about sundown.”

The gorgeous colouring of autumn had gone from the mountains, but there was still the holly with its scarlet berries, the green of the laurel, the fir, and pine, and here and there, on hickory and oak, a patch of colour where the leaves still clung.

At noon the party stopped for dinner in a hollow shielded from the wind. They spread out the eatables which they had brought in their saddlebags, on the thick, green grass. The horses and mules were tethered to graze, after being watered at a trickling rill which filtered out of the rocks close beside them.

After lingering longer than usual to give the sorrel a chance to rest, the company started on. Miss Howard looked at her watch; it was half-past one. “We’ll just about make it and that’s all,” she commented to herself cheerfully.

For some time after leaving the hollow they followed the dry bed of a stream. The rocky bottom was covered with loose stones, and now and then a small boulder jutted out from the bank. They were in shadow, for hedging them in on either side, rose the mountains thickly covered with pine. At last they left the stream bed and turned into a trail leading over the mountain. Rising above it was the ridge of still another which they must cross before the Bradshaw home could be sighted.

In the effort of guiding their animals into the trail, they did not at first notice the change in the sky until suddenly Martin, ahead, looked up. The sun had disappeared, and a grey mist clung to the tall peaks. The air had grown cold—a sudden drop of the temperature—which was an unmistakable sign of the approaching storm. He did not call out to startle those in the rear, but on reaching a small cove he turned the mule he was riding into it, and beckoned to the others. They were coming up Indian file, and one by one halted beside him—all but Talitha. Martin could see her some distance below them. Something had happened to the sorrel, for his sister had dismounted and was leading it with difficulty.

“There’s a storm coming up.” Miss Howard shivered and looked around anxiously. “It’s growing colder every minute, I do believe; I never knew such a sudden change.”

“It must have been coming on since noon only we were so sheltered we didn’t notice it,” returned Martin. “Just hold Jack and I’ll go back and help Talitha,” slipping the mule’s rein into Abner’s hand.

The sorrel clung to the trail with three feet; the fourth was evidently disabled. The animal’s ears were laid back and there was a despairing look in his eyes. Vainly Talitha tugged at the rein while she gently urged him on.

“What’s the matter?” Martin inquired.

“Well, he’s all tuckered out for one thing, then he’s got something in his foot—a sharp stone, I reckon, for he’s limped ever since he left the creek bed. Poor thing, I might have known he couldn’t stand such a jaunt.”

With difficulty Martin got down and examined the injured member. It did not take him long, with the aid of his jack-knife, to extract the offending stone, which had cut an ugly gash. “There, that feels better, doesn’t it, old fellow? Just see if you can’t step along now.” He stroked the animal’s nose coaxingly. “You’d better go ahead, Tally, and we’ll follow.” The tired sorrel plucked up courage and limped after.

When they reached the cove Abner silently pointed to the peaks on the opposite range, and Martin saw with dismay that they were nearly buried in a storm of flying snowflakes which was gradually drawing nearer. The boys’ faces whitened as their eyes met. If they had been alone it would be serious enough with the prospect of a heavy snowfall to wipe out the trail, but with Miss Howard and the girls to look after—Martin felt a shiver, which was not from the cold wind, creep over him. It was Miss Howard herself who finally spoke with a calm decision.

“Boys, have you plenty of matches?”

“Yes,” they both answered.

“And we have enough left from our lunch to make quite a respectable supper. Well, it’s perfectly useless to think of going on to-night, I can see that; the sorrel can’t endure it for one thing and the storm would overtake us before we were halfway down the mountain. We’ve got to camp out for the night—”

“But where?” inquired Talitha, looking around in bewilderment. How bleak and lonely the mountains looked, how shadowy they were growing already!

“There, there, girls, we’re not going to worry,” Miss Howard said cheerfully, noticing the troubled faces. “I’ve discovered that this is the very place where we were caught in a heavy rain storm when I was out on extension work with Professor and Mrs. Denny, and we found such a nice place to spend the night. If I’m not mistaken I can go right to it—” A snowflake struck Miss Howard’s cheek, another and another. “We haven’t any time to spare. Come on and don’t lose sight of me for a minute.”

“Wait, please, Miss Howard,” called Martin. “Tally must ride Jack and I’ll lead the sorrel.” He helped his sister mount, and then the teacher turned her horse toward the farthest side of the cove, the others following. Martin saw one rider after another disappear, for the moment, over the edge of the slope as though they had mysteriously slipped from sight. He went on with a shamefaced feeling that he was not the one to find shelter for the little company—he was older than Abner. But as well as he knew the caves and passages around Goose Creek, these were strange to him; he had never once thought of the possibility of some time needing shelter among them. Although there was no way to help himself he felt very uncomfortable. He pulled his hat brim low to shade his eyes—the snow was coming faster—and watched the last of the straggling line that in spite of his efforts was getting farther and farther away, winding down around huge boulders and clusters of laurel and pine. Miss Howard had been the first to vanish, now Talitha on the submissive Jack was also out of sight. He urged his reluctant beast forward, several times nearly missing his footing.

Miss Howard had not been mistaken. As her friends said, her bump of location was well developed. Just as the dusk and the storm were closing down upon them, she led her followers into a narrow passageway between rocky walls, and stopped at the large, black mouth of a cave.

“Here we are,” she called back. “Where are your matches? I’d like to see if the place is already inhabited.”

“I have some.” Abner sprang to the ground, handed the mule’s rein to Talitha, and came to the teacher’s side.

“Feel on the ground just inside the cave and find me some dry twigs or splinters, if you can; we must be careful of the matches.”

The boy fumbled about on his knees for a moment. “Here are some and they feel real tinder-y, too. Let me go ahead.” Abner struck a match and applied it carefully to the pine twigs he had bunched. It made a fine torch, revealing what at first appeared to be a small cave, but which gradually widened as they went on to one of considerable dimensions.

Several times the boy stopped to renew his torch. Fortunately there was plenty of material—a litter of pine, balsam, and fir boughs, as though the place had been recently occupied. There were no signs of the presence of wild animals as the young woman had secretly feared, but suddenly Abner stopped in astonishment. He instantly recognized the dark object at the farther end of the cave and shivered, remembering certain events of his boyhood days.

“It’s only an old still that’s been there for years,” reassured Miss Howard, failing to understand. She slipped from her horse. “Now we must have a fire the very first thing. That’s the place,” pointing to what seemed a natural fireplace in the rocky wall where lay a heap of ashes. “There’s a kind of chimney above it, so we won’t be smoked out.”

“Why, there’s a fine bed of coals!” Abner presently exclaimed, uncovering them.

“That’s fortunate; it’ll be such a saving of matches. I think we can pick up plenty of stuff to make a good fire, then we must go out and forage for enough to last through the night.” Miss Howard seemed as cheerful and matter-of-fact as though she were in her own home, while in reality she was much perplexed at the unmistakable evidences that the place had, very recently, been inhabited. It was much too late in the season for surveyors, or parties in search of botanical or geological specimens. They might have been hunters lured to the mountains by the unusually pleasant weather and the prospect of returning with a full game bag. She tried to think of the latter possibility; at any rate the young people’s suspicions must not be aroused.

In a few moments Abner and Gincy had a brisk fire burning. Talitha was feeding the horses and mules some corn she found in the saddlebags. “They’ll have a pretty slim supper, I’m afraid, and they’re so hungry—I wonder why Martin doesn’t come,” she broke off, looking anxiously toward the entrance. “Do you suppose he could have missed the way?”

“I think more likely the sorrel is having a hard time to get along,” said her teacher. “But if he isn’t here soon Abner and I will go to meet him.”

The glow of the fire lighted the cave, and the young woman glanced around with apparent carelessness, but her eyes were keen and watchful. Behind the old still she picked up a man’s coat. It had not lain there long, for it was only slightly damp and no musty smell clung to it. She quietly tucked it into a niche of the wall. Over by the fire the girls were examining the contents of the saddlebags in an effort to eke out a respectable supper. “I wish I hadn’t eaten so much at noon,” she heard Gincy say. “I didn’t need it and I feel just as hungry as though I hadn’t had a bite of breakfast or dinner, either.”

Miss Howard did not allow herself to think of the consequences should they find themselves hemmed in by snowdrifts the next morning, but she was again reminded that Martin had not yet appeared. Something must be done immediately. She hurried over to the young people, and with their help two large torches were made. One was lighted. “We may not need the other, but we’ll keep it for an emergency,” she said. “Stay right here and don’t worry; we’ll be back soon.” Miss Howard and Abner hurried out of the cave.

How dark it had grown! The young woman was startled as, with torch held aloft, she peered out at the end of the passageway. There were no signs of Martin anywhere.

“You’d better call to him,” she said to Abner.

“Halloo! halloo!” the lad repeated again and again, and then they both listened. The echoes died away in the hollows of the great hills, but no answering call came back to them.