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The Outdoor Girls in the Saddle, a novel by Laura Lee Hope |
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Chapter 20. The Violinist Again |
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_ CHAPTER XX. THE VIOLINIST AGAIN As Allen had predicted, there was a general rush on the part of the miners to establish claims on the property adjoining the ranch, and the girls congratulated themselves over and over again that they had reached Dan Higgins with the glad tidings in time for him to secure the best location. All day long the girls were in the saddle, hovering about the new gold diggings, fascinated at the way new mines seemed to spring up over night. Next to those on their own property, they were most interested in Dan Higgins' mine and in their hearts they would really rather have had him find gold than to find it themselves. "They need it so much more than we do," Betty said anxiously. "If Dan Higgins and Meggy have drawn another blank I don't know what they will do." In the midst of all this confusion and excitement, Amy received the program of the benefit concert given at the Hostess House for which she had sent home some time before. They had almost forgotten the hermit and it was with a shock of surprise that they remembered they had not seen him since the new mining operations. Before that they had run across him quite often attempting to help Meggy and Dan in his rather eccentric way. "Guess he must have been scared off by the crowd," said Mollie. "Too much excitement for the old boy." The four of them were sitting on the large front porch of the house, still in their riding habits, while their horses, at the foot of the steps, stamped their impatience to be off again. Nothing but the arrival of the mail could have drawn the girls from the fascination of the new gold diggings. They hardly took time to eat; and as for sleep, well, they took that in between times! Now Grace called to Amy, making room on the step beside her. "Come over here and show us your program," she said, extracting a bit of candy from some hidden recess somewhere about her person and popping it into her mouth. "I'm anxious to see what that violinist's name was." Amy obeyed, and as Grace opened the program Mollie and Betty drew closer and peeped over her shoulder. "Concerto--Liszt," read Grace, her finger pointing down the page. "No, that isn't it. That's for the piano. Hold on, here we are. Chopin--Nocturne--Paul Loup, violinist. There he is. Now will you please tell me how that helps us to find out anything about the hermit?" She paused with her finger still pointing to the name and looked up at them inquiringly. "We-el," said Betty thoughtfully, "it doesn't help very much, I must admit. It doesn't prove that Paul Loup is our Hermit of Gold Run. Only that funny feeling I have of having seen him before and heard him play----" "I tell you what we'll do!" Mollie snapped her fingers decisively. "It's a long chance and it may not work at all but--are you game to try it?" She paused and regarded the expectant girls eagerly. "Maybe," said Betty, noncommittally. "You might tell us the idea first." "Listen," cried Mollie. "My idea is that if we take the hermit by surprise, call him by his name of Paul Loup. Why--" She paused, and the light of inspiration filled her eyes. "I could even speak to him in French----" As the girls caught her full meaning they looked at her admiringly. "I shouldn't wonder if that plan would work," said Betty swiftly. "Why can't we go now? Dinner won't be ready for a couple of hours." "Right you are," cried Mollie, taking the four steps at one jump and springing upon her astonished horse. "Come on, girls, are you with us?" "We'll have to lead 'em a merry pace," said Betty to Mollie a moment later as they galloped abreast up the road. "If we don't get them there in a hurry they're apt to get cold feet and think we're crazy." "Maybe we are," chuckled Mollie, urging Old Nick on to even greater speed. "I've had a suspicion that way several times before." It was Betty's turn to chuckle. "So have I!" she said, adding with a sigh of resignation: "But oh, it is so much fun. Look behind, Mollie. Are they still coming?" "Strong," reported Mollie, with a glance over her shoulder. Then, as they reached the trail that led through the woods, she reined in a little, motioning for Betty to take the lead. "You know the trail better," she said. Over the rough woodland trail their progress necessarily became slower, a fact which the girls did not relish at all. It gave them time to reflect on what a really rash adventure they had embarked, and any but the Outdoor Girls might have turned back even at this last minute. However, curiosity, together with some vague hope that they might become of service to this strange sad fellow, urged them on. If Paul Loup and the Hermit of Gold Run were really one and the same person, then surely there was a real mystery which they might in some way help to unravel. They did not linger any longer on the way than was absolutely necessary, for the terrible experience they had had with the timber wolves soon after their arrival had made them suspicious of the forest, and try as they would they could not suppress an uncomfortable desire to search every shadow for some sinister, lurking presence. In vain had the cowboys on the ranch assured them that wolves were very scarce in this part of the forest, especially in the summer, and that they had had an unusual and unique experience. As Amy had said, one experience like that was enough to last a lifetime. They came in sight of the cabin without mishap, however, and they tethered their horses a little farther from the house than usual, so that their stamping and neighing might not frighten the hermit away. Then they made their way with as little noise as possible along the narrow path. "Suppose he isn't at home?" whispered Mollie to Betty. "Then we're out of luck, that's all," returned Betty cheerfully. But the hermit was at home. They could see him moving about, and as they came nearer they smelled an appetizing odor of frying bacon, as though he were cooking his dinner. "Hope he asks us to stay to lunch," said Grace, and the girls giggled nervously. "We'll be lucky if he doesn't slam the door in our faces," said Amy pessimistically. It was Mollie who knocked this time--and it was no timid little rap either, but a good, hearty rat-at-tat, that brought the occupant of the cabin to the door in a hurry. He had the frying pan still clutched in his hand and on his long narrow face was such a look of dread that the girls felt sorry for him. "Well," he said, the emotion within him making his voice sound stern and forbidding, "what is it you wish? It is not raining to-day as it was that other time." He gazed significantly up at the cloudless sky seen in little blue patches through the trees, and the girls flushed, partly from embarrassment and partly from anger. Somehow, they had not been prepared to have him take this attitude, and they resented it. For a moment they stood miserably tongue-tied. Even their usually quick-witted Little Captain seemed suddenly to have been stricken speechless. They were just about to turn and run when Mollie saved the day for them. Pushing forward through the group she confronted the man on the door step. "_Vous etes Paul Loup, n'est-ce pas, monsieur?_" she said in a clear voice, gazing up at him fearlessly. While the girls gasped at her temerity a most astounding thing happened. The man dropped the frying pan and it clattered to the floor, its contents spilling out greasily. While they looked he seemed to crumple, shrivel, and his eyes stared at them glassily out of his white mask of a face. "_Mon Dieu!_" he cried hoarsely, staggering back into the shack. "You have found me! But I swear to you I did not kill him. _Mon Dieu_, I could not kill my brother!" _ |
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