A Young Inventor's Pluck - LightNovelsOnl.com
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"Them falls?" she asked, pointing her long, thin finger to the mighty volume of water up the river.
"Yes."
She gave a contemptuous snicker.
"You can't stuff no such stories down me!" she e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed. "Them falls!
You couldn't live a minnit in 'em! Think I believe such lies?"
"It's the truth, whether you believe it or not," put in Mont, "We were on that tree"--he pointed it out--"and that saved us. See, our clothes are still wet."
The girl was silent, more convinced by their genteel appearance, than by what was said, that she was being told the truth.
"What is your name?" asked Jack, curiously. He had never met such a unique character before.
"Meg," was the laconic reply.
"Meg? Meg what?"
"No, not Meg what; only Meg."
"But what is your other name?"
"Hain't got none."
"Oh, but you must have," put in Mont. He, too, was becoming interested.
"Never did--leastwise, never knowed it, anyway," and Meg grew sober for a moment.
"Do you live here?" asked Jack.
"Yep."
"Alone?"
"Nope. I live with Mr. Pooler."
"Who is he?"
The girl eyed the young machinist in surprise.
"Why, I thought everybody knew him," she said. "He's the man who owns this island."
"What, the whole of it?" exclaimed Mont, in astonishment.
"Yep."
"And you live here with him?" continued Jack.
"Yep. Have always."
"Any one else here besides you and him?"
"Not now. His wife used to, but she died last winter."
"I suppose you keep house for him?"
"Yep."
A faint smile accompanied the monosyllable this time.
"It's rather hard work for a girl like you," Jack remarked.
Meg tossed back her head.
"Hard! 'Tain't nothing; cookin' and cleanin' ain't. It's garden work that's tough. Look at them hands." She dropped the pail and held them up. "Been blistered lots of times hoein' and diggin'."
"It's too bad," cried the young machinist, indignantly. "It ain't fair to make you work like a slave."
"What would you do if you was me?" asked the girl, with a hungry, searching look in her eyes.
For a moment Jack was nonplused.
"I don't know," he replied, slowly; "I might, though, if I thought over it. Are you a relative of his?"
"Not's I know."
"How long have you been here?"
"Ever since I can remember. I didn't mind it so much when Mrs. Pooler was alive, but since she died I hate it;" and Meg grated her teeth tightly together.
"Where is the house?" asked Mont.
"Over yonder, through the trees."
"Do you think you can get us something to eat?" continued the young man.
"We have been out since yesterday, and I'm as hungry as a stray dog."
The girl hesitated.
"We will pay you for it," Mont went on, feeling for his purse, which, luckily, still remained in his pocket.
"Guess I can," said Meg, finally. "Pooler ain't home; he went to the mainland this morning. Did you really go over them falls?" she continued, jerking her thumb in the direction.
[Ill.u.s.tration: "DID YOU REALLY GO OVER THEM FALLS?" SHE CONTINUED, JERKING HER THUMB IN THE DIRECTION.]
"Yes, indeed we did. It was a terrible experience," replied the young man with a shudder.
"Must be. Never heard of 'em comin' out alive--'em as goes over, I mean."
