Randy and Her Friends Part 13

"This is bad business, Snowfoot. Two little folks lost and no idea where ter look for 'em."

And while two households were wild with fear, while Mr. Weston and Joshua Babson were driving in every direction, stopping at the door of the farm-houses to enquire if the children were there, or had been seen, the two little ones who were the cause of all this commotion were still walking wearily down the road, Prue hoping yet to see the cars which should take her to Randy, and Hi beginning to think that he had lost his way. The last glint of yellow had faded from the western sky, as Hi proposed that they cut through the woods to "gain time," he said.

"Oh, I'm 'fraid to go into the woods when it's getting dark," wailed Prue.

"But me'n Uncle Joshua did the day we went the shortest way," said Hi, "an' this looks just like the place. _I_ ain't 'fraid so you needn't be, an' we've _got_ ter go the quickest way because it's gittin' late."

Prue gave her hand to Hi, and together they entered the woods, trudging wearily on toward the place where, between the distant trees they could see the western sky. Their tired little feet stumbled on, tripping over fallen twigs, and gnarled roots of the great trees. Prue was crying now and Hi, anxious to keep up, at least a semblance of the big boy and protector, made desperate efforts to swallow the lump in his throat which was growing larger every moment. Prue had lost her lunch basket, but she held Randy's letter tightly clasped in her hand, and the basket was forgotten in her eagerness to keep a firm hold upon the treasured missive.

"Oh, Hi, I've _got_ to sit down again, I'm so tired, and I'm cold, too,"

she cried.

Hi, with all his faults, was a kind-hearted little fellow, so with a deal of gallantry he pulled off his jacket, saying,

"This'll make ye warm, Prue, I'm a big boy so I don't mind."

Hi heaped a ma.s.s of dry leaves together, saying,

"We might lay down on these leaves jest a few minutes 'til we're a little warmer, an' then when we're rested we'll go on again. We _must_ be 'most there now, Prue."

By snuggling closely beside her, the boy endeavored to make up for the loss of his coat, and so completely tired out were the two little wayfarers, that sleep overtook them, and in their dreams Prue saw her beloved Randy, while Hi seemed floating through s.p.a.ce upon one of the red plush car seats on the way to Boston.

After fruitless calls at the farm-houses Mr. Weston, now thoroughly alarmed called upon his neighbors for a.s.sistance, and searching parties with lanterns and torches commenced to scour field and wood.

In and out between the great trees they wandered, their torches and lanterns looking like giant fire-flies; and in every direction they searched for the two little travelers; now at the margin of the woodland, then in again to the heart of the forest. One man recounted to his companion how several years before two children had been lost, and although desperate search was made, they were not found until the pond was dragged. Another farmer, determined not to be outdone, told, with bated breath, of a bear which had been seen coming down the mountain, and that when two hunters had given chase, he had disappeared in the woods.

"I shouldn't like to have the children meet him," said the man.

"Be still!" commanded his companion, "do ye want Square Weston ter hear ye? He's 'nough worried now without yer tales er bears an' drowndings."

As Mr. Weston pa.s.sed them, his lantern revealed the pallor of his face, and one man muttered to the other,

"Ef they're not ter be faound alive, then I hope it'll not be the Square that finds 'em."

"That's so, man," the other returned, "'tho' it would be a hard job fer any of us ter larn that aught had befallen little Prue, and even that little scamp, Hi Babson, I'd hate ter think of a hard fate fer him, he was so brimmin' over with fun."

One man had strayed from the party, and with his torch held above his head was slowly making his way through the underbrush, when, emerging from the thicket, his foot touched something which but softly resisted it.

Thinking it to be some old and mossy log, he s.h.i.+fted his torch to the other hand, and was preparing to step over the obstacle whatever it might be, when, as the smoke blew backward, the flaming torch revealed the sleeping children, Prue still holding Randy's letter in her hand, Hi with a protecting arm about his little companion.

"Well, of all the pretty sights!" he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed. "Safe an' saound an' warm I'll bet ye, but haow on airth come they over here?"

Then with another look at the sleeping children, he hastened to rejoin the party and to tell the joyful news that the little ones were found.

When the crowd of torch-bearers hastened to the spot and gathered about the wanderers, Prue and Hi sat up and rubbed their eyes, evidently wondering what had caused such a commotion. [Ill.u.s.tration: As the smoke blew backward, the flaming torch revealed the sleeping children]

"How did ye git lost?" asked a farmer of Prue.

"We wasn't lost," answered Prue, "How could we be lost when we knew where we was going? We was going to Boston to my Randy, and we're 'most to the cars, but we're just resting a little while first."

To Uncle Joshua Babson, little Hi looked for pardon for this latest prank.

"I wasn't naughty _this_ time," he said, "I knew the way to Boston, and Prue felt so lonesome 'thout Randy that I was goin' ter take her there."

"Never mind that, my boy," Uncle Joshua answered, "the main thing is ter git ye home, an' stop yer mother's frettin'. She's in the mood ter forgive most anything, sence yer safe and sound."

Tired little Prue lay in her father's arms, crying softly, her face hidden upon his breast.

"There, there, don't cry, Prue, ye're all safe now. See, I have ye in my arms, an' soon we'll be home with mother an' Aunt Prudence."

"But if you take me home now," wailed Prue, "it'll be to-morrow 'fore I could start again to find Randy, and we meaned to get there to-night."

"But mother's 'bout sick a worryin' sence ye went off with Hi and didn't tell where ye was goin'. Did ye think of it, Prue, that mother misses Randy, so couldn't spare ye, too?"

"Oh, I never thought," Prue answered, "I wanted to see my Randy, but I didn't 'member that if I went to Boston there wouldn't be any girls 't all in our house."

With his lantern on his arm and his little daughter clasped to his breast, Mr. Weston tramped along the rough road escorted by two neighbors who with their torches made a path of light before him. As they reached the house, two white-faced women saw them, but while Aunt Prudence hastened to open the door Mrs. Weston drew back.

"Alive or,--"

"I want some supper," exclaimed a very energetic little voice and the mother sprang forward to take her lost one in her arms.

"Oh Prue, don't ye leave us again," she cried, her tears dropping upon the soft curls.

"But I was going to get my Randy and bring her home to you," said Prue, "and I forgot that when I was away to Randy's there wouldn't be any girls to take care of you 'n Tabby."

That night, as an especial favor, Prue was allowed to take Tabby to bed with her, and as she lay with her arms about the cat, she thought that, although her journey to Boston was prevented, there yet were comforts at home, and Tabby accustomed to sleeping in the shed, must have thought the millennium had come.

CHAPTER VIII

JUST A ROSE

It had been an easy task to convince little Prue that she must not again attempt to run away to Randy, but must try to be a little comfort to those at home; but no amount of reasoning could make her less lonely, until such a delightful thing happened.

A box addressed to Miss Prue Weston arrived one morning, and when its cover was removed, there lay the loveliest dolly, evidently sound asleep.

As Prue lifted her from the box, her eyes opened wide, causing the little girl to jump and exclaim,

"My! Did you see her wink? Is she alive?"

It was the first modern doll which Prue had seen, and she could hardly believe that aught but a living thing could open and shut its eyes, or smile so radiantly, thereby showing little pearly teeth. Oh the wonder of the soft curling hair, the turning head, and jointed arms and legs!

Her dress was made from a lovely shade of blue satin, and her hat was a fine specimen of doll's millinery. In her hand she held a tiny envelope which enclosed a letter from Randy to Prue,--printed, that the little sister might have the pleasure of reading it for herself.

"DEAR LITTLE PRUE:--I send this pretty doll to you. Her name is Randy Helen Weston, named for two whom I know you love dearly.

You will make me very happy while I am here in Boston, if you are good at school, and a little comfort to mother at home. Let the Randy doll help you to wait cheerfully until I return, and I shall be glad that I sent her. Print little letters to me, telling me what is happening at home and at school, and remember that I am