The listen to me stories

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The Big Light on Burning Mountain . .177

ILLUSTRATIONS

II

ON the morning of the day that Janet left the house to search for the pot of gold, Mrs. McDonald awoke and was surprised to find that it was so late and that Janet had gone to the sheep-fold, without calling her. Opening the cupboard and finding that half the loaf of bread was gone, she said :

“Then Janet canna be ill the morn, as I feared last night she wad be.” So, with a thankful heart, she warmed the porridge for her own breakfast, and hurried to her day’s work at the castle. Passing the sheep-fold, she noticed that it was empty.

“Jamie and Janet must ha’ driven the sheep to the hill,” she thought.

All day the good woman worked with no idea of the trouble that was awaiting her at home. Late in the afternoon, the young Laird and his bride arrived at the castle.

On seeing Mrs. McDonald, the Laird said to his wife :

“Geraldine, you have often heard me speak of Thomas McDonald. This is his widow.”

They both spoke many kind words to Mrs. McDonald, and she was greatly pleased when they enquired for Janet, and said that some day they would ride over the hill and see the little cottage.

On her way home, Mrs. McDonald went through the village of Dunarroch, and with the money she had earned that day, bought a few little luxuries for their supper, and a pair of shoes for Janet, “that she may be decent when the Leddy 55 comes,” she said. Then, although tired with her day’s work, she walked briskly home with a light heart. As she came over the hill, she noticed that the sky had become overcast, and that the wind was rising. “There ’ll be a storm the night,” she said, and hurried on.

When she came within sight of the cottage she was surprised to see no light there. She opened the door. “Janet?” she said. There was no answer. The room was as she had left it in the morning. No light — no fire. Janet had evidently not been there.

At this moment, Sandy came in at the door, whining piteously.

“Sandy,” asked Mrs. McDonald, “where is she? where is Janet?” but the dog only answered by another pitiful whine. Mrs. McDonald, now thoroughly 56 alarmed, walked out to the sheep-fold and called loudly :

“Janet! Janet!” but the bleating of the sheep and the sighing of the wind in the trees, was her only answer. Then came a flash of lightning, followed by thunder. The storm was coming.

Into the cottage she went again, and searched everywhere for the child, whom she hoped to find asleep.

“I ’ll go ask Jamie. He ’ll know,” she said at last. So, followed by Sandy, the poor tired woman ran the whole way back* to Dunarroch, and burst into the cottage where Jamie sat eating his supper.

“Where ’s Janet*?” she gasped.

“I dunno,” said Jamie, his mouth full of porridge.

“Was she na wi’ ye the day?”

“No,” said Jamie, “an’ she should ha’

been. She had no right to le’ me to mind the sheep alone, the whole day.”

“She wasna wi’ ye?” cried Mrs. Mc- Donald, seizing him by the arm. “Oh Jamie, Jamie, then she’s lost. Janet’s lost. I ’ve searched over all, an’ called till I ’m hoarse. Where will she be ?”

'’''Janet lost?” cried Jamie, springing to his feet, all thought of supper forgotten. “Not lost. We ’ll find her, Mrs. McDonald;” and calling to his father, the three left the cottage. Two or three neighbors joined them on the way, bringing torches. “It ’ll be a wild night for a bairn to be out on the moor alone,” said one to another.

Before they reached the McDonald cottage, the storm burst upon them. Flash after flash of blinding lightning followed by peal after peal of echoing thunder. Reaching the cottage, they 58 began their search for Janet. Inside and out, then into the sheep-fold they went, startling the animals from their slumber. Then up into the grazing-field, where the sheep had been through the day. Here they called, “Janet! Janet!” but only the echo responded “ Janet .”

As they stood there listening, the drenching rain came down upon them, extinguishing their torches, and forcing them to go down again into the cottage for shelter. The men, now thoroughly alarmed for the safety of the child, sat by the fire, whispering together, while two women who had come up from the village forced poor Mrs. McDonald to eat something and lie down, for in such a storm they knew it was impossible to continue the search. The hours dragged slowly on, broken only by the sound of the rain, which fell in torrents. The neighbors who had come, stayed at the cottage through the night, poor Jamie, his head buried in his hands, crying and dozing, alternately. Sandy passed his time in going from one to another, whining pitifully.

Suddenly, everyone started to his feet in alarm! What was it? What had happened? From the opposite mountain was heard a strange, hoarse, rumbling noise which grew louder and louder, ending at last in a mighty crash , which shook the little cottage to its foundation !

Then all was still, save for the howling of the wind, and the downpour of the rain.

“It ’ll be a landslide on Mount Enochan,” said one of the men.

“A landslide?” cried Mrs. McDonald, “and mayhap my Janet is there an’ buried 6o beneath it,” and the poor woman ran wildly to the door.

“Are ye mad, Mrs. McDonald?” said one of the women, holding her back. “If ye couldna find her in the light, what could ye do in the dark, an’ the pourin’ rain? When the storm is o’er, we’ll all go wi’ ye, but now we can do naught.”

Convinced, poor Mrs. McDonald sat down again and waited, and at last, at daybreak, the rain ceased. Then the women prepared a hurried breakfast, but Mrs. McDonald, unable to eat a mouthful, ran alone to the grazing-field, and called frantically:

“Janet! Janet! Where are ye?”

From the Echo-Cave above came the answer clearly:

“Janet! Where are ye?” but no other sound was heard. Here, Sandy, who had 6l been for some time acting strangely, began violently tugging at Mrs. Mc- Donald’s apron!

“What is it, Sandy, mon?” she asked. Then an idea suddenly came to her as she turned toward the dog.

“Mayhap Sandy knows where Janet is, and wants me to follow him. Is it Janet, Sandy?” she asked. At this the dog wagged his tail, and barked furiously. Hurrying down toward the cottage, to tell them of the hint which Sandy had given, Mrs. McDonald was met not only by those she had left behind, but by almost the entire village, including the young minister and the school-master, who, hearing of the poor woman’s trouble, had come to offer help.

“Sagacity is given to the brutes. No doubt the beastie knows where the child is. Let us follow him,” said the minister, 62 when Mrs. McDonald had told him of Sandy’s strange behavior.

“Sandy, go find Janet,” commanded Mrs. McDonald, and the dog, with a joyous bark, led the way down toward the ravine and brook, followed by all. But the brook was not the peaceful stream of yesterday, which the little girl had found so easy to cross by the stepping-stones. Swollen by the recent rains, it was now a brawling, turbulent stream. Although Sandy had no difficulty in crossing it, the others paused to discuss as to whether ’t were better to ford it here, or go down a half mile to the bridge. Just then the sound of a quickly galloping horse was heard, and in a few moments the young Laird was among them.

“I have heard of your trouble, Mrs. McDonald,” he said, “and have come to offer help.”

“ I thank yer Honor/5 said the poor woman. “We ’re hopin’ we ’re on the right track now. We ’re follerin’ the dog. But the stream is so full wi’ the rain, that we canna get easy across.”

The Laird took in the situation at a glance.

“Those of you, who wish, can ford the stream,” he said, “the others can go down to the bridge, but I will take Mrs. Mc- Donald over on my horse.”

This was done, and they were soon safely on the other side. Sandy darted eagerly on. He fully expected to find his little mistress on the spot high up on the mountain where he had reluctantly parted from her, only the day before. Panting with excitement, he jumped from rock to rock, stopping every now and then to wait for the others. He was nearing the spot, when, judge of the poor faithful creature’s surprise and disappointment, when he found the way blocked by a high, impassable wall of earth, rocks, and trees!

One by one the climbers reached the spot and gazed appalled.

“ ’T is the landslide,” they whispered, “an’ if the bairn was there last night — ” but no one finished the sentence.

“Why should she be on Mount Enochan?” said one. “No one ever comes here, except, perhaps the pirates, long ago.”

The pirates! These words had suggested an idea to Jamie, and he cried out:

“The pot o’ gold! ’T was the pot o’ gold,” and then the boy told the story. How, when he and Janet had been minding the sheep, she had asked him to tell her about the pirates. And when he had 65 told her that he thought the pirates had put the gold into the Echo-Maid’s Cave on Mount Enochan, she had begged him to go with her and ask the Echo-Maid for some of it for her mother, who was so very poor. But he had told her he was afraid to go, and Janet had seemed to be afraid, too, “an’ I didna think, that she wad dare to go alone. An’ now,” sobbed Jamie, “I ’m afeared she did go, an’ oh, how I wisht I ’d stopped her.”

The boy’s story and the conduct of the dog, seemed to point to the truth of the idea that poor, brave, little Janet had really gone up Mount Enochan, and made the attempt to get the gold.

Mrs. McDonald accepted this idea as final. She threw herself down on the ground and wept in agony, for she fully believed that her child was lying there, buried under the mass of earth. The 66 faithful dog, crouching by her side, licked her hand in mute sympathy. Occasionally he would look up towards the spot where he had last seen his little mistress, and howl piteously. Woman and dog were mourning their dead.

The Laird, greatly touched, now said:

“My dear Mrs. McDonald, let us not yet give up all hope. If Janet wished to reach the cave, might she not have tried to climb up the precipice at the front?’

“No, yer Honor,” was the answer, “ ’t is too steep. There wadna be foothold there, even for a goat.”

“But,” said the Laird, “Janet is only a child and without judgment. She might have tried to climb up and have fallen back, and may be lying there now. I will search there, anyway.” So leaving his horse in care of Jamie’s father, and 67 calling to Sandy, he started. And Sandy, hopeless and unwilling, followed.

The others, believing further search to be useless, persuaded Mrs. McDonald to go home. Instead of fording the stream, they all walked slowly down to the bridge which led to Dunarroch, leaving Jamie and his father alone with the Laird’s horse.

The Laird, meanwhile, with Sandy at his heels, walked on, directly toward the precipice under the cave. As he approached and looked up, he was appalled at its height.

“They were right,” he said. “No one would attempt to scale that wall.”

At this point, Sandy suddenly stopped, and stood as if turned to stone, his head up, his nose sniffing the air! Then with a loud yelp, he bounded forward and disappeared in a clump of trees, at the 68 foot of the precipice. The Laird, led by the joyous barking of the dog, followed quickly, and there — under the trees, with Sandy standing beside her, licking her face — lay poor, little Janet McDonald ! Stooping over the unconscious figure, the Laird found that she was still breathing. She was not dead. Lifting her up tenderly, and preceded by the now frantically barking Sandy, he carried her to the place where he had left his horse. Jamie and his father, hearing the Laird’s call, and suspecting from Sandy’s joyous bark, what had happened, came eagerly forward to meet them, with Selim — the horse.

“Is she dead?” called Jamie, when he saw Janet lying in the Laird’s arms.

“No, she is still living. Here, Angus,” said the Laird, speaking to Jamie’s father, “hold the child till I mount.”

When the Laird was mounted, Angus placed Janet in his arms, and Selim, who seemed to recognize the necessity for caution, stepped slowly and carefully over the stones. The Laird feared to cross the stream with his burden, though it was a much nearer way.

“I must go down by the bridge,” he said, “but do you ford the stream, Angus, and tell the good news to Mrs. Mc- Donald, and do you, Jamie, run across the short way to Dunarroch, and tell the doctor to come at once to the cottage.”

When the Laird reached the cottage, with the still unconscious Janet in his arms, he was received with shouts of joy by all the village people, and there was not a dry eye among them, when Janet was restored to her mother’s arms.

The doctor, who was already there, now came forward, and ordered them all to go home and leave the house quiet.

“I will give ye the news of her, the night,” he told them.

For several days Janet lay on her little bed, very ill. The Laird and his Lady came every day to enquire for her, but were met always by the same answer, “Still alive, but no better.”

And one day, the village doctor told the Laird that he would like to have one of the great doctors from the city come to see the child, “for I fear,” he said, “that the case is beyond my skill.”

“The brave child shall have the best doctor in Edinboro’,” said the Laird, and he telegraphed to Sir Andrew Anderson, who arrived the next day at Dunarroch Castle. In the afternoon, he, accompanied by Lady Geraldine and the Laird came to the cottage. Sir Andrew, to 71 whom they had told the story of Janet’s search for the pot of gold, was much interested in the brave little girl. The village doctor was at the cottage to meet them, and the two went inside while Lady Geraldine and the Laird waited anxiously for the verdict.

Janet lay in her little white bed, restlessly tossing from side to side. She looked at Sir Andrew with wide-open, yet unseeing eyes, and stretching out her arms to him, cried piteously :

“Oh, won’t ye gie me the pot o’ gold'? ’T is for the mither I ask it. She ’s so poor. Ah, ’t was so hard to get to the cave, an’ could ye na gie me a little1? The mither said ’t wad tak’ but a little gold to mak’ her happy.”

In half an hour, Sir Andrew came out.

“Well?” said Lady Geraldine, breathlessly.

“The case is simply this,” said Sir Andrew. “The child is suffering from a fever, brought on by several causes. In talking with the mother, I find that they have been in actual want, and that for some time past, they have not had sufficient food to eat.”

“Oh,” groaned the Laird. “I knew nothing of this. I was away.”

“Mrs. McDonald says that Janet had not been well for several days,” continued the doctor, “and these facts and the exposure to the storm on the moor, have brought on this fever.”

“And do you think,” asked Geraldine, “that she really did try to climb into the Echo-Cave ?”

“She may have done so, but be that as it may, she probably wandered up and down the mountain for hours, and she must have been lying under the trees for 73 a long time before the Laird discovered her. Judging from her ravings, she thinks that she has been in the cave, seen the Echo-Maid and the gold. Her constant cry is: ‘Gie it to me! Gie me the gold!’ ”

“Oh, Kenneth,” said Geraldine, “have you not some gold pieces now in your pocket? Here give them to me. I may put them into her hand, Doctor?” and receiving his permission, Geraldine glided to the bed.

“Gie me the gold,” cried Janet.

“Yes, child, here is the gold,” said Geraldine, softly, putting it in her hands.

Then Janet, clasping it tightly, and looking up into the beautiful face bending over her, framed in its golden hair, said joyfully:

“ ’T is the Echo-Maid hersel’ ! Oh, thank ye. Thank ye, Echo-Maid!” and 74 almost immediately fell into a quiet sleep, the first she had known since she had been brought home.

“That was an inspiration, Lady Geraldine,5’ said the doctor, as they drove back to the castle. “I think now, that with the aid of your village doctor, and with Mrs. McDonald’s good nursing (and she is evidently a capital nurse) the child may pull through. Fine mountain and sea air and pure water, what more could one wish? I would send some of my own patients here to get well, were there any good house for them to go to.”

And Janet did recover — recovered rapidly. There was no lack of good food now at the cottage. Lady Geraldine saw to that.

One day, when Janet was able to sit out of doors, she told the whole story of her search for the pot of gold from the 75 beginning to the end to the Laird and Lady Geraldine, who sat near her.

“An’ now, I ’m wearyin’ to go an’ pick up the gold I threw down,” she said.

So a few days later, Lady Geraldine, the Laird and Janet went to the precipice, Janet seated on Selim’s back, for she was not yet strong enough to walk so far. Before they reached the place, the Laird said to her :

“Janet, suppose the gold is not there?”

“Ah, but it must be there, yer Honor, for I threw it down,” she said.

“But it may not be there now,” continued the Laird, “and if it be not, do not grieve. When you come back I have something to tell you.”

Then he lifted Janet from Selim’s back, and with quickly beating heart the little girl ran alone to the place where she expected to see the gold.

But when she reached the spot she looked eagerly around to find, alas, that there was no gold there! Search as she would, not a piece could she find. Then Janet sat down, and burying her face in her hands, wept bitterly. And so the Laird and Lady Geraldine (who had walked slowly after) found her.

“Janet,” said the sweet voice of Lady Geraldine. “The Laird has something to say to you, dear,” and the little girl choked back her sobs to listen.

“ ’T is for the mither I greet,” she said.

“What I wish to say to you, Janet, is this,” said the Laird. “You have not found the gold here, it is true, but — now remember what I say — some day, I promise that you shall have the pot o’ gold, and then you can give it to your mother.”

“Then ’t was you, yer Honor, that gathered up the gold,” said Janet.

“Well,” said the Laird, smiling, “that is my secret, little girl.”

Then they went home, Janet quite comforted. Mrs. McDonald was needed now every day at the castle, and as she could not leave the little girl alone, it was proposed that she take her with her, and close the cottage. This was done, and Jamie and Sandy tended the sheep alone. Sandy slept in the fold at night, and became sterner than ever with the sheep. Janet was allowed to do no work, but was told to run about and get well as fast as she could. Mrs. McDonald was smilingly mysterious these days, and for some reason Janet was forbidden to go to the cottage.

Then came a wonderful day — the happiest in Janet’s life. The day when she was nine years old. Her mother, who 78 had finished her work at the castle, went back to the cottage in the morning, and in the afternoon Janet followed with the Laird and Lady Geraldine. As they began to ascend the hill, what was the child’s amazement, to see in the place of the little gray cottage, a beautiful new house ! *

“What is that? What does it mean'?” gasped Janet, looking from Lady Geraldine to the Laird.

“Tell her,” said the Laird.

“It means,” said Lady Geraldine, smiling kindly at her, “that the Laird and I have built this house. Sir Andrew Anderson, the great Edinboro’ doctor, whom we had up to see you, Janet, when you were ill, was charmed with this spot and wanted just such a place for some of his patients to get well in, so we thought we 79 would build this house for that purpose. And as your mother is such a good nurse and cook, she is to have charge of it.”

They drove first to the kitchen-door, where Mrs. McDonald stood smilingly awaiting them, and then the four walked admiringly through the house. Upstairs there were six pretty bedrooms and from the windows a fine view of Mount Enochan, the valley, and sea beyond.

“Oh, Mither, Mither!” cried Janet, throwing her arms round her mother’s neck. “How kind they are! An’ won’t we tak’ fine care o’ their beautiful new house?”

“Come now, all of you,” said the Laird cheerily, as he led the way to the front of the house, and out of the door. “I have something outside to show you, Janet, and something to say to you, too.” So taking the little girl by the hand, and 80 followed by the others, he led her out of the door and on to the grass at the front of the house.

“Janet,” he said. “You remember I told you that some day you should have a ‘pot o’ gold’ ?”

“Yes,” said Janet.

“Well, look up now, over the door, and read the name of this inn.”

And there, painted in large gold letters, on a bright blue ground, Janet read :

“the pot o’ gold.”

“Yes,” said the Laird, “and this pot o’ gold, little girl, is yours — your very own. Lady Geraldine and I give it to you to-day— your ninth birthday.”

“And Janet,” said Lady Geraldine,

I

“what will you do with your pot o’ gold?’ ”

“Give it to the mither!” cried Janet, running to her mother’s arms!

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V

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IN the village of Lanwyn, on the coast of Cornwall, lived a boy whose name was Samuel. His father was a miner — an overseer — who each day with other miners, went down into the earth to dig out tin, and as he went to his work almost before the sun began his, he scarcely knew day by sight. But it had not been always so, for, as a lad and young man, Mr. Carroll had been a sailor, and many were the tales of adventure which he told to his boy, Sam. Nor was that all, for the father had in spare moments managed to make a good sailor of the boy, and on his eleventh birthday gave him for his very own, a fine, broad, safe boat. It was not a new one, but after Mr. Carroll had mended, put in a new bowsprit and painted it, it certainly looked as if it were. The name — Aurora — Sam chose himself, and his father painted it on the stern. The black letters stood out proudly: A Roarer , and I think Mr. Carroll, Sam, and all their friends preferred that way of spelling it to any other.

One day early in June, Sam went for an afternoon’s sail. He took his supper with him, as he did not intend to return till high tide, at eight. His mother felt no anxiety, for the day was mild, and Sam was a good sailor. He could also swim, and had with him a life-preserver. The boy sailed out of the little land-locked harbor, toward the open ocean beyond. He always felt relieved when his boat shot out between the two high rocks which 86 guarded the narrow entrance, because the mine in which his father worked extended far out under the bay, and it gave him an uncomfortable sensation, to feel that he might be sailing over his father’s head!

The A Roarer sailed on for an hour or more. Then the wind which had been steady, suddenly died away, the water became like glass, and the boat lay there peacefully, unworthy her name; but even A Roarer can do nothing in a dead calm. Sam looked about in every direction, but saw no welcome ripple. On the horizon a long, murky line marked the recent passage of an ocean-liner, but no boat save his own was in sight on the empty, glassy sea. It was terribly hot — Sam bathed his face and hands, and then — I regret to say — did what no boy should do when alone in a boat — fell fast asleep, the sheet held tightly in his hand. He slept for more than an hour. The mischievous breeze in the meantime only waiting, apparently, until the boy was sound asleep, sprang up and filled the A Roarer’s sail. “Ah, ha,” laughed the waves, as they slapped against her sides, and slapped against her sides, and faster and faster the boat flew onward.

Suddenly Sam was aroused from his dangerous sleep, by hearing a shrill cry. In an instant the boy was fully awake, and looking up, found himself within a few feet of a group of pointed jagged rocks toward which he was rapidly sailing! In another moment he would have been dashed against them, but he succeeded in bringing the boat about just in time.

“A pretty close shave that,” said a wee voice, and then Sam looked up, and saw 88 to his amazement, standing on one of the rocks, a tiny man, not more than ten inches high ! Rubbing his eyes, he looked again, for he thought he must be dreaming. No, there stood the little figure, sharply outlined against the sky beyond. Lowering the sail, the boy took his oars and rowed cautiously near the rock on which the little man was standing.

“Where did you come from?” he asked.

“From my kingdom below,” was the astonishing answer; and the small figure was drawn proudly erect till it was fully ten and a half inches high. “I am a King, and who are you?”

“Just a plain boy,” said Sam. “I came from Lanwyn, the village over there.”

“What village? Over where?” asked the little man.

“There, behind me,” said Sam, and turning, was about to point it out, when 89 he discovered that there was no land in sight !

About him on every side was water, nothing but water. Sam’s heart sank, when he realized how far he must be from his home.

“Where am I?” he gasped.

“At the entrance to my kingdom,” said His Little Majesty.

“And may I come up on those rocks’?” asked Sam, who hoped that from that height he might be better able to see the land. At this, the Little King seemed greatly alarmed, but said politely, “I shall be delighted, Giant. That is, if you are quite sure you are a gentle giant?”

Sam, though much amused at being called a giant, said that he had always been considered very kind and gentle. Then he remembered with remorse that 90 only the day before he had broken his sister’s doll. “That is, I mean to be so,” he added.

At this, the Little King, who had waited the answer in anxiety, smiled pleasantly.

“Fasten your ship here,” he directed, pointing to a sharp rock which was conveniently near the bow. This Sam did, and was soon upon the ledge eagerly scanning the horizon. Greatly to his relief he could see land, although he judged it must be some distance away. His Little Majesty begged to be taken up, and was greatly excited on being lifted to Sam’s shoulder, where he stood balancing himself, and holding firmly to the boy’s ear. After satisfying himself as to the direction in which he was to sail, Sam began to examine the ledge upon which he 91 stood. This he found formed a circle around a black, yawning abyss, into which the boy looked with growing horror!

“My kingdom is down there,” said the Little King. “I wish you could visit it, but ’t is against the law.”

Sam felt relieved to hear of this excellent law, but, of course, he did not say so.

“Do you really live in that hole?” he inquired.