The Mission of Janice Day Part 17

"No. This very car. It's all right and I will sell it to you cheap."

"You goin' to get a new one, Janice?"

"Oh, Mr. Moore! I'm not thinking of motor cars. I'm in great trouble.

Perhaps you know? My father----"

"I heard something down to Ma.s.sey's drugstore about his being hived up somewhere in Mexico by them insurrectionists," replied Cross Moore, still watching her countenance.

"Well, I want to go to him. You know how Uncle Jason is fixed just now."

"Yes, Janice. Jase is in a hole."

"So you see, I've _got_ to sell my car."

"Mebbe I could git the money for you--ye can borry it of me," suggested the selectman.

"Oh, thank you, Mr. Moore! That's more than kind. But I wouldn't know when or how I could pay you back. And Uncle Jase can't possibly help me--if he would. I am going to tell you frankly, Mr. Moore, the folks don't approve of my going down there to find father."

"No? Wal, it's not to be wondered at."

"But, don't you see? I've just _got_ to go, Mr. Moore. And I must sell my car to get the money to pay my fare. You can have it for----" she pondered and then mentioned a sum that she thought was a bargain price indeed, even for a car that had been run as far as this Kremlin. "You can have it for that--and for one other thing."

"Huh? A string to it?" he demanded.

"Your silence is involved. You must not tell anybody you have bought the car till I get out of town. I am going to run away, Mr. Moore, and you must help me if you wish to own this automobile."

CHAPTER XII

NELSON DOES NOT UNDERSTAND

Janice came back from Middletown with several bundles. She had been shopping, she told Aunt 'Mira; but she did not mention the fact that she had drawn her last fifty dollars from the bank.

Mr. Cross Moore had been to the bank, too; and the sum of money which he had drawn out in crisp twenty and fifty dollar bills was pinned securely to Janice's underwaist.

She merely told the folks that Mr. Moore was going to take his wife out in the car, for he had already learned to run an automobile, it seemed.

And if the president of the town selectmen could not license himself to drive a motor car, who could?

Janice's uncle and aunt made no comment; they had other things to think about. If Marty suspected anything he kept his suspicions to himself.

All of course watched the papers for news of Broxton Day; but Mexican news seemed very tame indeed. Those Americans who came out of Chihuahua told dreadful stories; but most of these tales had to be taken with "more than a grain of salt." Many of these "Americans" owned to Spanish-Mexican names, and were merely Americans by naturalization--and that "for business purposes only."

Their tales dealt with the recent uprising in the Companos District; but nothing new was related about what had happened at the mines north of San Cristoval. No mention was made in any dispatches regarding Mr.

Broxton Day. Letters to Nelson Haley in reply to his inquiries, both from Was.h.i.+ngton and the Border, merely said that matters were in such a chaotic state in Chihuahua that no facts were available.

It was on the evening of this eventful day--the day she had sold her car--that Janice went to speak privately with Nelson. Knowing that her uncle would absolutely forbid her departure for the Border if she told him she was going, Janice would not open any discussion with him. She had already written a note to leave for her Uncle Jason and Aunt 'Mira to read after she was gone. But with Nelson it was different. How could she go away from Polktown without telling the young schoolmaster she was going--without sharing with him this secret that now had begun to weigh so heavily on her mind?

She stopped at Hopewell Drugg's for a minute and found the little family in almost a holiday spirit--the storekeeper bustling about waiting on customers, 'Rill at her sewing table, and little Lottie singing over the supper dishes.

"You did the child a world of good, it seems," the storekeeper's wife said softly, to her friend. "Since she spent the night with you, Lottie has been like another girl."

"Don't let her drift away from you again, honey," Janice said, smiling tenderly on the little woman. "Remember, Lottie must have just as deep an interest in this wonderful happening as any of you."

"I--I don't know just how to talk to her," 'Rill whispered, flus.h.i.+ng a little.

"You don't have to talk," smiled Janice. "Just _love_ her--that is all you need do. You _do_ love her, and don't let anybody tell her differently."

There was a lamp burning in Nelson Haley's study, and Janice tapped lightly on the window pane, bringing him to the front door. She did not wish to run the gantlet of Mrs. Beaseley's volubility on this occasion.

"My dear!" said the schoolmaster, drawing her within and seeing her very serious face. "Nothing new has happened?"

"About daddy?" she sighed. "Nothing that I am aware of. I know nothing, Nelson. But I feel that I _must_ know very soon. This uncertainty is killing me!"

"My dear girl," he murmured. "I wish I could help you."

"But you can't," she broke in with energy. "n.o.body can. I must help myself now, for you and the others have done all you could."

"Why, Janice, what more can you do than we have attempted?" he asked wonderingly. "The moment any news comes over the Border of your father it will be telegraphed North."

"And do you think I can wait here--inactive, hopeless--for something to turn up? Why, Nelson! there is n.o.body down there with any special interest in daddy. The men who are engaged in the mining enterprise with him are all in the North here."

"Yes, yes," Nelson cried. "But what can be done? What can _I_ do? What can any of us do, my dear Janice?"

"I don't know that anybody can do anything--up here. But I mean to go down there--yes, I do! I am going to find my father, Nelson."

She began to sob hysterically and the schoolmaster patted her hand with soothing intent. "Of course you can't do that, Janice. A girl like you could do nothing down there in Mexico."

"How do you know?" she demanded, das.h.i.+ng away her tears and looking up at him. "I tell you, Nelson, I am going."

He sighed and shook his head. "Of course you can't do that, Janice," he repeated. "I thought that was all settled last evening."

"It was perhaps settled in your mind; not in mine."

"It would be an unheard-of thing to do. Your uncle and aunt would never allow it."

"Yes, Nelson, I know that. But I will go just the same," the girl told him.

He shook his head again and smiled at her. "You have the will to do it, I don't doubt, Janice. But, really, you couldn't."

Janice opened her lips once more; then she closed them. What was the use of saying anything further? Even Nelson did not believe she would carry out her intention.

"Very well, then," she said, rising and making ready for departure.

"I'll say good-bye. You can't see it my way, Nelson; but if it were _you_ who were wounded and alone down there in Mexico do you suppose any power on earth would keep me from going to you?"

She slipped away before the full force of her final speech percolated to the young schoolmaster's brain. He got up to follow her; then he paced the floor of his study instead.