might stop in the center of each town, read it aloud, and ask the inhabitants to interpret it for us,” Jack suggested. “Or you and I could take turns standing on top of the wagon and shouting it as we go along.”
Desiré laughed at his absurdities, as he intended she should.
“I don’t care. I’m going to pretend that we’re going to find out what it means before the summer is over.”
“Pretend as much as you like, as long as you won’t let yourself be overcome with disappointment if your day dream should turn out to be only a nightmare.”
A crash behind them made them spring to their feet in sudden fright, and a child’s shrieks rang through the woods.
CHAPTER X
A NIGHT PROWLER
“René!” gasped Desiré, darting back toward the tent.
Jack outstripped her, and when she reached the scene, he was just pulling his small brother out from under a pile of canvas.
“Not hurt,” he breathed with relief; “only badly frightened.”
He put René in Desiré’s lap, and went to examine the wreckage.
“One stake pulled right out,” he reported. “Wonder how that happened. I know I had it in tight, and there is practically no wind.”
“Could he have done it in any way?” asked Desiré, motioning to the little boy.
“René,” said Jack, stooping before the child, who was now quiet again, “did you do anything to the rope of the tent to make it fall?”
René glanced up into his brother’s face upon which shone the rays of the full moon, and, turning, burrowed deep into Desiré’s arms.
“Guilty, I guess. Tell me exactly what you did,” directed Jack.
“Woke up. Played I was a gull; rope was my string. Hung on it; old thing came down. Bang!”
“René,” said Jack, taking the child’s face between his hands, and forcing him to meet his eyes, “you must never, never pull on the ropes of a tent, or meddle with any part of it. If you do, you can’t sleep in it with me, but will have to stay in the wagon with the girls.”
He picked him up and set him on a nearby stump.
“Now sit right here and think about what I have just said, while Desiré and I put the tent up again. Don’t move from the place, and watch how much extra work you have made for us when we are all so tired.”
After the tent was once more in place, Jack returned to René.
“Well, are you going to sleep in the tent or in the wagon?”
“In the tent. I won’t touch no ropes, nor nothin’ again, Jack,” promised the child, holding up his arms. “An’ I’m sorry ’bout making you and Dissy work when you’re all tired, ’n’ everything—”
“That’s a good boy,” replied his brother, carrying him off to bed for a second time.
“Goodnight, Desiré,” he said, returning to kiss her after René was disposed of. “If you’re timid, call me.”
“Yes, but, Jack dear, please don’t lie awake to take care of us. We’ll be safe.”
Soon the grove was quiet. The moon rose higher and higher, and throughout the night kept benevolent watch over the four children sleeping heavily among the protective trunks of the old balsam trees. Little creatures of the night moved noiselessly over the dried needles on the forest floor so as not to waken the strangers within their midst; and a gentle breeze stole quietly in from the Bay to waft its pungent coolness over the tired travelers.
A couple of hours passed, the moon had left the woods partly in shadow. A dark figure was stealing carefully among the tree trunks, stopping every few minutes to listen.
Beyond a band of moonlight stood the little tent from which could be heard Jack’s loud breathing. Nearby was the wagon where all was silent, and from a dark spot beyond it the horses stamped restlessly. Skirting the habitations of the human beings, the figure made its way silently toward the animals. Then Dapple’s loud whinny sounded through the quiet wood, answered immediately by that of his mate.
“Get away from our horses!” shrilled Priscilla’s voice from the back of the wagon.
“What’s the matter?” shouted Jack, roused at once by the child’s cry.
“Prissy!” cried Desiré; “you—”
“Somebody’s bothering Dolly and Dapple, Jack!” called Priscilla.
By that time Jack had lighted a couple of lanterns, and he and Desiré were out in the open.
“Stay here and hold one of these,” he directed, “while I see what is wrong.”
The horses were straining at their tethers when he reached them, but quieted at once under familiar hands. Following an impulse, Jack presently led them out of the woods and into the little clearing where the wagon and tent were placed.
“Will they disturb you if I fasten them to this tree?” he asked Desiré.
“Not a bit—I—”
“Did you find anyone?” demanded Priscilla.
“Not a single person. I looked all around before I brought the horses out.”
“You had a bad dream, dear,” began Desiré, “and—”
“But I didn’t. I heard Dapple and Dolly holler just as plain, and they never do that unless somebody goes near ’em.”
Desiré looked questioningly at her brother, but he was busy tying the animals.
“Now,” he said firmly, when he had finished his task, “we’ll all go back to bed and right to sleep.”
He turned briskly into the tent where René still slept peacefully, and quietness once more descended upon the forest. Jack, however, looped up the flap of the tent and lay watching over his little family until the soft grey light of the early morning began to filter through the trees.
CHAPTER XI
THE BLUE-COVERED BOOK
Several days later, one beautiful sunny morning, Dapple and Dolly were trotting briskly along the Shore Road toward Digby. For more than two miles this road winds along the shore of Digby Basin, formed by the Bay of Fundy waters flowing through a mile wide break in the North Mountain Range.
“That,” said Jack, pointing to the opening between the mountains, “is Digby Gap, or, as the natives call it, ‘Digby Gut.’ In olden days all the fishing boats used to stop there on their way home long enough for the fishermen to clean their fish, and throw all the ‘guts’ or insides into the water.”
“What a horrid name!” was Priscilla’s comment.
“It’s
