The Box-Car Children
said Henry cheerfully.
"I want a drink," announced Benny.
"A drink you shall have," Henry promised, "but you'll have to wait till
it's really dark. If we should creep out to the brook now, and any one
saw us--" He did not finish his sentence, but Benny realized that he
must wait.
He was much refreshed from his long sleep, and felt very lively. Violet
had all she could do to keep him amused, even with Cinnamon Bear and his
five brothers.
At last Henry peeped out. It was after nine o'clock. There were lights
in the farmhouse still, but they were all upstairs.
"We can at least get a drink now," he said. And the children crept
quietly to the noisy little brook not far from the haystack.
"Cup," said Benny.
"No, you'll have to lie down and drink with your mouth," Jess explained.
And so they did. Never did water taste so cool and delicious as it did
that night to the thirsty children.
When they had finished drinking they jumped the brook, ran quickly over
the fields to the wall, and once more found themselves on the road.
"If we meet any one," said Jess, "we must all crouch behind bushes until
he has gone by."
They walked along in the darkness with light hearts. They were no longer
tired or hungry. Their one thought was to get away from their
grandfather, if possible.
"If we can find a big town," said Violet, "won't it be better to stay in
than a little town?"
"Why?" asked Henry, puffing up the hill.
"Well, you see, there are so many people in a big town, nobody will
notice us--"
"And in a little village everyone would be talking about us," finished
Henry admiringly. "You've got brains, Violet!"
He had hardly said this, when a wagon was heard behind them in the
distance. It was coming from Middlesex. Without a word, the four
children sank down behind the bushes like frightened rabbits. They could
plainly hear their hearts beat. The horse trotted nearer, and then
began to walk up the hill.
"If we hear nothing in Townsend," they heard a man say, "we have plainly
done our duty."
It was the baker's voice!
"More than our duty," said the baker's wife, "tiring out a horse with
going a full day, from morning until night!"
There was silence as the horse pulled the creaky wagon.
"At least we will go on to Townsend tonight," continued the baker, "and
tell them to watch out. We need not go to Intervale, for they never
could walk so far."
"We are well rid of them, I should say," replied his wife. "They may not
have come this way. The milkman did not see them, did he?"
The baker's reply was lost, for the horse had reached the hilltop, where
he broke into a canter.
It was some minutes before the children dared to creep out of the bushes
again.
"One thing is sure," said Henry, when he got his breath. "We will not go
to Townsend."
"And we _will_ go to Intervale," said Jess.
With a definite goal in mind at last, the children set out again with a
better spirit. They walked until two o'clock in the morning, stopping
often this time to rest and to drink from the horses' watering troughs.
And then they came upon a fork in the road with a white signpost shining
in the moonlight.
"Townsend, four miles; Intervale, six miles," read Henry aloud. "Any one
feel able to walk six more miles?"
He grinned. No one had the least idea how far they had already walked.
"We'll go that _way_ at least," said Jess finally.
"That we will," agreed Henry, picking up his brother for a change, and
carrying him "pig-back."
Violet went ahead. The new road was a pleasant woody one, with grass
growing in the middle. The children could not see the grass, but they
could feel it as they walked. "Not many people pass this way, I guess,"
remarked Violet. Just then she caught her toe in something and almost
fell, but Jess caught her.
The two girls stooped down to examine the obstruction.
"Hay!" said Jess.
"Hay!" repeated Violet.
"Hey!" cried Henry, coming up. "What did you say?"
"It must have fallen off somebody's load," said Jess.
"We'll take it with us," Henry decided wisely. "Load on all you can
carry, Jess."
"For Benny," thought Violet to herself. So the odd little party trudged
on for nearly three hours, laden with hay, until they found that the
road ended in a cart path through the woods.
"Oh, dear!" exclaimed Jess, almost ready to cry with disappointment.
"What's the matter?" demanded Henry in astonishment. "Isn't the woods a
good place to sleep? We can't sleep in the road, you know."
"It does seem nice and far away from people," admitted Jess, "and it's
almost morning."
As they stood still at the entrance to the woods, they heard the rumble
of a train. It roared down the valley at a great rate and passed them on
the other side of the woods, thundering along toward the city.
"Never mind the train, either," remarked Henry. "It isn't so _awfully_
near; and even if it were, it couldn't see us."
He set his brother down and peered into the woods. It was very warm.
"Lizzen!" said Benny.
"Listen!" echoed Violet.
"More water!" Benny cried, catching his big brother by the hand.
"It is only another brook," said Henry with a thankful heart. "He wants
a drink." The trickle of water sounded very pleasant to all the children
as they lay down once more to drink.
Benny was too sleepy to eat. Jess quickly found a dry spot thick with
moss between two stones. Upon this moss the three older children spread
the hay in the shape of an oval bed. Benny tumbled into it with a great
sigh of satisfaction, while his sisters tucked the hay around him.
"Pine needles up here, Jess," called Henry from the slope. Each of them
quickly scraped together a fragrant pile for a pillow and once more lay
down to sleep, with hardly a thought of fear.
"I only hope we won't have a thunderstorm," said Jess to herself, as she
shut her tired eyes.
And she did not open them for a long time, although the dark gray clouds
piled higher and more thickly over the sleeping children.
SHELTER
When Jess opened her eyes it must have been about ten o'clock in the
morning. She sat up and looked all around her. She could see dimly the
opening where they had come into the woods. She looked around to see
that her family was still safely by her. Then she looked up at the sky.
At first she thought it must still be night, and then she realized that
the darkness was caused by an approaching storm.
"Whatever, _whatever_ shall we do now?" demanded Jess of the air.
She got up and looked in every direction for shelter. She even walked
quite a little way into the woods, and down a hill. And there she stood,
not knowing what to do next.
"I shall have to wake Henry up," she said at last. "Only how I hate to!"
As she spoke she glanced into the forest, and her feet felt as if they
were nailed to the ground. She could not stir. Faintly outlined among
the trees, Jess saw an old freight or box car. Her first thought was one
of fear; her second, hope for shelter. As she thought of shelter, her
feet moved, and she stumbled toward it.
It really was a freight car. She felt of it. It stood on rusty broken
rails which were nearly covered with dead leaves. Then the thunder
cracked overhead. Jess came to her usual senses and started back for
Henry, flying like the wind. He was awake, looking anxiously overhead.
He had not noticed that Jess was missing.
"Come!" panted Jess. "I've found a place! Hurry! hurry!"
Henry did not stop to ask questions. He picked up Benny, telling Violet
to gather up the hay. And then they ran headlong through the thick
underbrush in Jess' wake, seeing their way only too well by the sharp
flashes of lightning.
"It's beginning to sprinkle!" gasped Henry.
"We'll get there, all right," Jess shouted back. "It's not far. Be all
ready to help me open the door when we get there!"
By sheer good fortune a big tree stump stood under the door of the
freight car, or the children never could have opened it. As it was, Jess
sprang on the stump and Henry, pausing to lay Benny down, did likewise.
Together they rolled back the heavy door about a foot.
"That's enough," panted Jess. "I'll get in, and you hand Benny up to
me."
"No," said Henry quietly. "I must see first if any one is in there."
"It will rain!" protested Jess. "Nothing will hurt me."
But she knew it was useless to argue with Henry, so she hastily groped
in the bag for the matches and handed them to her brother. It must be
confessed that Jess held her breath while Henry struck one and peered
about inside the car.
"All's well!" he reported. "Come in, everybody!"
Violet passed the hay up to her brother, and crawled in herself. Then
Jess handed Benny up like a package of groceries and, taking one last
look at the angry sky and waving trees, she climbed in after him.
The two children managed to roll the door back so that the crack was
completely closed before the storm broke. But at that very instant it
broke with a vengeance. It seemed to the children that the sky would
split, so sharp were the cracks of thunder. But not a drop of rain
reached them in their roomy retreat. They could see nothing at all, for
the freight car was tightly made, and all outside was nearly as black as
night. Through it all, Benny slept on.
Presently the thunder grew fainter, and rumbled away down the valley,
and the rain spent itself. Only the drip from the trees on the top of
the car could be heard. Then Henry ventured to open the door.
He knelt on his hands and knees and thrust his head out.
The warm sunlight was filtering through the trees, making golden pools
of light here and there. The beautiful trees, pines and white birches
and oaks, grew thickly around and the ground was carpeted with flowers
and wonderful ferns more than a yard high. But most miraculous of all
was a miniature waterfall, small but perfect, where the same little
brown brook fell gracefully over some ledges, and danced away down the
glen.
In an instant Jess and Violet were looking over Henry's shoulder at the
pretty sight.
"How different everything looks with the sun shining!" exclaimed Jess.
"Things will soon be dry at this rate."
"It must be about noon," observed Henry, looking at the sun. And as he
spoke the faint echo of mill bells in the distance was heard.
"Henry!" said Jess sharply. "Let's _live_ here!"
"Live here?" repeated Henry dully.
"Yes! Why not?" replied Jess. "Nobody uses this car, and it's dry and
warm. We're quite far away. And yet we are near enough to a town so we
can buy things."
"And we're near water," added Violet.
Jess hugged her sister. "So we are, little mouse," she said--"the most
important thing of all."
"But--" began Henry.
"_Please_, Henry," said Jess excitedly. "I could make this old freight
car into the dearest little house, with beds, and chairs, and a
table--and dishes--"
"I'd like to live here, too," said a determined little voice from the
corner, "but I don't want to, unless--"
"Unless what?" asked Henry, panic-stricken.
"Unless I can have my dinner," Benny finished anxiously.
"We'll have something to eat right away, old fellow," said Henry,
thankful it was no worse. For he himself was beginning to see what a
cozy home the car really would make.
Jess cut the last loaf of bread into four pieces, but alas! it was very
dry. The children were so hungry that they tore it with their teeth like
little dogs, but Benny was nearly crying. He did not actually cry,
however, for just at the crucial moment Violet started a funny story
about Cinnamon Bear eating bread crusts out of the ash can.
"He ought to have milk," said Jess quietly to Henry.
"He _shall_ have milk," replied Henry. "I'll go down the railroad track
to the town and get some."