If Sancho's abduction made a stir, one may easilyimagine with what warmth and interest he waswelcomed back when his wrongs and wanderingswere known. For several days he held regular levees,that curious boys and sympathizing girls might seeand pity the changed and curtailed dog. Sancho behavedwith dignified affability, and sat upon his matin the coach-house pensively eying his guests, andpatiently submitting to their caresses; while Ben andThorny took turns to tell the few tragical facts whichwere not shrouded in the deepest mystery. If theinteresting sufferer could only have spoken, whatthrilling adventures and hair-breadth escapes he mighthave related. But, alas! he was dumb; and the secretsof that memorable month never were revealed.
The lame paw soon healed, the dingy color slowlyyielded to many washings, the woolly coat began toknot up into little curls, a new collar, handsomelymarked, made him a respectable dog, and Sanchowas himself again. But it was evident that his sufferingswere not forgotten; his once sweet temper was atrifle soured; and, with a few exceptions, he had losthis faith in mankind. Before, he had been the mostbenevolent and hospitable of dogs; now, he eyed allstrangers suspiciously, and the sight of a shabby manmade him growl and bristle up, as if the mernory ofhis wrongs still burned hotly within him.
Fortunately, his gratitude was stronger than hisresentment, and he never seemed to forget that heowed his life to Betty, -- running to meet her whenevershe appeared, instantly obeying her commands,and suffering no one to molest her when he walkedwatchfully beside her, with her hand upon his neck,as they had walked out of the almost fatal backyardtogether, faithful friends for ever.
Miss Celia called them little Una and her lion, andread the pretty story to the childien when theywondered what she meant. Ben, with great pains,taught the dog to spell "Betty," and surprised herwith a display of this new accomplishment, whichgratified her so much that she was never tired ofseeing Sanch paw the five red letters into place, thencome and lay his nose in her hand, as if he added,"That's the name of my dear mistress."Of course Bab was glad to have eveiything pleasantand friendly again; but in a little dark corner of herheart there was a drop of envy, and a despeiate desireto do something which would make every one inher small world like and piaise her as they did Betty.
Trying to be as good and gentle did not satisfy her;she must do something brave or surprising, and nochance for distinguishing herself in that way seemedlikely to appear. Betty was as fond as ever, andthe boys were very kind to her; but she felt thatthey both liked "little Beteinda," as they called her,best, because she found Sanch, and never seemed to knowthat she had done any thing brave in defendinghim against all odds. Bab did not tell any one howshe felt, but endeavored to be amiable, while waitingfor her chance to come; and, when it did arrive,made the most of it, though there was nothing heroicto add a charm.
Miss Celia's arm had been doing very well, butwould, of course, be useless for some time longer.
Finding that the afternoon readings amused herselfas much as they did the children, she kept themup, and brought out all her old favorites enjoying adouble pleasure in seeing that her young audiencerelished them as much as she did when a child forto all but Thorny they were brand new. Out of oneof these stories came much amusement for all, andsatisfaction for one of the party.
"Celia, did you bring our old bows?" asked herbrother, eagerly, as she put down the book fromwhich she had been reading Miss Edgeworth's capitalstory of "Waste not Want not; or, Two Stringsto your Bow.""Yes, I brought all the playthings we left storedaway in uncle's garret when we went abroad. Thebows are in the long box where you found the mallets,fishing-rods, and bats. The old quivers and afew arrows are there also, I believe. What is theidea now? asked Miss Celia in her turn, as Thornybounced up in a great hurry.
"I'm going to teach Ben to shoot. Grand funthis hot weather; and by-and-by we'll have anarchery meeting, and you can give us a prize. Comeon, Ben. I've got plenty of whip-cord to rig up thebows, and then we'll show the ladies some first-classshooting.""I can't; never had a decent bow in my life. Thelittle gilt one I used to wave round when I was aCoopid wasn't worth a cent to go," answered Ben,feeling as if that painted "prodigy" must have beena very distant connection of the respectable youngperson now walking off arm in arm with the lord ofthe manor.
"Practice is all you want. I used to be a capitalshot, but I don't believe I could hit any thing but abarn-door now," answered Thorny, encouragingly.
As the boys vanished, with much tramping of bootsand banging of doors, Bab observed, in the young-ladyish tone she was apt to use when she composedher active little mind and body to the feminine taskof needlework, --"We used to make bows of whalebone when wewere little girls, but we are too old to play so now.""I'd like to, but Bab won't, 'cause she 's most'leven years old," said honest Betty, placidly rubbingher needle in the "ruster," as she called the familyemery-bag.
"Grown people enjoy archery, as bow and arrowshooting is called, especially in England. I wasreading about it the other day, and saw a picture ofQueen Victoria with her bow; so you needn't beashamed of it, Bab," said Miss Celia, rummagingamong the books and papers in her sofa corner tofind the magazine she wanted, thinking a new playwould be as good for the girls as for the big boys.
"A queen, just think!" and Betty looked much impressedby the fact, as well as uplifted by the knowledgethat her friend did not agree in thinking hersilly because she preferred playing with a halmlesshome-made toy to firing stones or snapping a pop-gun.
"In old times, bows and arrows were used to fightgreat battles with; and we read how the English archersshot so well that the air was dark with arrows, andmany men were killed.""So did the Indians have 'em; and I've got somestone arrow-heads, -- found 'em by the river, in thedirt!" cried Bab, waking up, for battles interested hermore than queens.
"While you finish your stints I'll tell you a littlestory about the Indians," said Miss Celia, lyingback on her cushions, while the needles began togo again, for the piospect of a story could not beresisted.
"A century or more ago, in a small settlement onthe banks of the Connecticut, -- which means the LongRiver of Pines, -- there lived a little girl called MattyKilburn. On a hill stood the fort where the people ranfor protection in any danger, for the country was newand wild, and more than once the Indians had comedown the river in their canoes and burned the houses,killed men, and carried away women and children.
Matty lived alone with her father, but felt quite safein the log house, for he was never far away. Oneafternoon, as the farmers were all busy in their fields,the bell rang suddenly, -- a sign that there was dangernear, -- and, dropping their rakes or axes, the menhurried to their houses to save wives and babies, andsuch few treasures as they could. Mr. Kilburn caughtup his gun with one hand and his little girl with theother, and ran as fast as he could toward the fort. Butbefore he could reach it he heard a yell, and saw thered men coming up from the river. Then he knew itwould be in vain to try to get in, so he looked about fora safe place to hide Matty till he could come for her.
He was a brave man, and could fight, so he had nothought of hiding while his neighbors needed help;but the dear little daughter must he cared for first.
"In the corner of the lonely pasture which theydared not cross, stood a big hollow elm, and there thefarmer hastily hid Matty, dropping her down into thedim nook, round the mouth of which youg shoots hadgrown, so that no one would have suspected any holewas there.
"Lie still, child, till I come; say your prayers andwait for father,' said the man, as he parted the leavesfor a last glance at the small, frightened face looking upat him.
"' Come soon,' whispered Matty, and tried to smilebravely, as a stout settler's girl should.
"Mr. Kilburn went away, and was taken prisonerin the fight, carried off, and for years no one knewwhether he was alive or dead. People missed Matty,............
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