A warning

The next day Billie had much difficulty in persuading Phoebe to put on the beautiful pink linen.

“It is not right,” Phoebe kept saying, although her eyes shone with a new luster when she gazed at the pretty frock. “I am very grateful for what you have done but you must not do too much. I am sure my father would not approve of my accepting so many favors.”

“Nonsense,” exclaimed Billie. “Can’t one girl lend another a few clothes without its being called ‘favors’? I shouldn’t hesitate to borrow from you, Phoebe, if I were well in your situation. And it seems to me that this dress would be very becoming to you. It suits your complexion better than mine because it matches your cheeks. I usually wear blue but I was over-persuaded by Nancy-Bell to get pink.”

In the end, Phoebe was induced to put on the pink dress. It had been wonderful enough to wear a neatly fitted duck skirt and a lace-trimmed blouse, but in this embroidered linen frock the color of wild roses Phoebe was in a dream.

“Oh,” she exclaimed, glancing at her flushed image in the mirror, “I never understood that clothes would make so much difference. I feel like someone else.” She looked down at her white canvas pumps, which were, as a matter of fact, a shade too long for her, although she had run barefoot over the mountains. “And my feet look really small.”

When Billy placed on her head a white Panama hat trimmed with a broad band of black velvet, Phoebe’s eyes filled with tears.

“Am I Phoebe?” she ejaculated. “Phoebe without a name, who lives in a log house? Oh, Miss Campbell ”

“Not Miss Campbell,” interrupted Billie. “You must call me Billie. Aren’t you my guest and almost the same age? Besides, I never recognize myself with ‘Miss’ tucked on before my name.”

“Billie, then,” went on Phoebe, blushing because she had never known a girl before to call by the first name. “Do you think it is right that I should dress up so beautifully when when my father is hidden away somewhere?”

“But I feel perfectly sure he is safe,” said Billie. “Perhaps someone has told him it would be safer to keep away for a while.”

“But why? He has never injured anyone in his life.”

“It is all Lupo’s doings and that is one reason why we want you to go with us down to the village and show yourself, so that they can see you have a number of very good friends to look after your interests.”

The girls all left off their khaki camping clothes and attired themselves in light summer frocks that morning. There was a reason for this unusual “hike” as Percy called it, and it pleased Nancy extremely, who took that opportunity to wear her best blue batiste and her prettiest hat. Billie wore no hat. It annoyed her when she drove the car, she said; but as a matter of fact she had lent her only hat to Phoebe.

From time to time, as the car went down the mountain road, Miss Campbell glanced admiringly at the mountain girl beside Billie in front.

“Dear, dear,” she exclaimed in a low voice, “what clothes will do for one. And how well the child wears them. She might have been accustomed to pretty things all her life.”

“She puts us all in the shade,” whispered Nancy.

If Billie had intended to create a sensation in the village, she succeeded beyond her wildest hopes. At first Phoebe was not recognized, but at the village store where everything was sold from groceries to Indian moccasins, a man loafing at the door exclaimed:

“By golly, that there’s Phoebe from up on the mountains!”

Phoebe blushed scarlet and then smiled.

“I suppose it will be a surprise to them,” she said.

They waited some time at the general store for purchases and letters, and by the time the “Comet” had borne them slowly onward to the small hotel, the news had spread down the street. At the water trough, they came to a full stop. They had no errands at the hotel, but Billie pretended to examine the “Comet’s” interior mechanism with careful interest. Pretty soon, nearly two dozen people had gathered at the trough. The innkeeper himself appeared, pale-eyed and sly; and Lupo made bold to show his face.

“Look at Crazy Frenchy’s gal diked out in all them duds,” one of the company exclaimed.

“She do look good, crazy or no crazy,” remarked a swarthy-faced guide eying Phoebe with admiration.

The young girl seemed entirely unconscious of all the attention she was attracting. She looked straight ahead down the village street and never even glanced at the group of rough men gathered near the car.

“How do we know but she didn’t aid and abet Frenchy?” burst out the innkeeper. “How do we know but she didn’t help him start them fires on Razor Back? The two is always together, ‘ceptin’ now when he’s a-hidin’ and she’s put on fine clothes to drive around with her rich friends.”

Phoebe turned her startled gaze on the man. Her lips parted.

“Don’t answer them,” whispered Billie, and with a grand flourish she swept the “Comet” around in a circle and turned his nose up the street.

“Do they accuse my father of setting Razor Back on fire?” asked Phoebe, tremulously.

“They tried to, but they couldn’t prove it,” answered Billie.

“My father loves the mountains,” protested poor Phoebe. “He loves the forests. He wouldn’t harm even one tree. How cruel these people are! Always they have hated us and we have never injured any of them. Oh, Billie, I feel that I must go to my father. I know he needs me.”

“You remember the doctor’s message,” answered Billie; “that it would be dangerous for you to leave camp. I am certain he knew what he was saying. Besides, didn’t you say the old herb woman was a friend? She would not have deceived you, would she?”

“No,” answered Phoebe, half smiling. “Once I pulled a thorn out of old Granny’s foot and washed and bound it, and she has been good to me ever since. The time she nursed me, she never left me day or night until I was well.”

“So you see,” said Billie, “it would be foolish for you to start out to hunt your father when you know old Granny can be depended upon and Dr. Hume, too.”

Phoebe was not the only one who felt restless in camp that afternoon. All of them had the sensation of waiting for something. Only Alberdina seemed placidly content. Having been forgiven the pink clothes and having had her stolen money refunded, she went about her work, singing and yodelling in a melodious voice, and for lunch surprised them with a German cinnamon cake she had made during their absence in the village.

“Why, you can cook, Alberdina?” exclaimed Billie, on whom cooking was beginning to pall.

“I can a leedle coog.”

“Then you shall cook the dinner,” announced Billie firmly, and Alberdina, who had not mentioned cooking in the bond, quailed before her stern gray eye and consented.

The afternoon dragged slowly along. It was very hot and the women members of the camp lay on their cots in kimonos reading and napping. Percy, underneath, snored lustily, and Ben chopped wood and piled up the logs scientifically for a fire that evening.

Alberdina’s supper was distinctly German in flavor, but it was good and Billie and Nancy enjoyed freedom from the bondage of cooking the evening meal. After supper the wind freshened and it grew much cooler.

“It’s going to be a dark night. There’s no moon,” remarked Ben, wistfully. “Shall I light the camp fire? And then we can sit around and tell stories and sing songs,” and because no one either assented or objected, owing to the peculiar restlessness that possessed them, he put a match to the pile of logs and presently the clearing was illuminated. The camp house stood out in bold relief against the background of the mountains. Little clouds were scurrying across the sky like schools of fish, and an occasional flash of heat lightning lit up the mountains and valley with strange distinctness. Elinor had brought out her guitar and they had just begun one of the old familiar songs, when a ragged boy appeared in their midst so suddenly that he might have sprung up full grown from the earth.

He faced Ben without looking at the others.

“The doctor wants both gem’man to come. I show the way. Quick.”

Phoebe sat up very straight and looked at the boy.

“I don’t know you,” she said. “Who are you?”

“I come from that away,” answered the boy, pointing with his thumb toward Indian Head. “The doctor said you would know it was all right by this here,” he added, unbuttoning his coat and taking out the doctor’s well remembered cane. “An’ he don’t want none of the ladies to come. Jes’ the men.”

“But I will go,” exclaimed Phoebe. “My father ”

“Is your father Frenchy?”

“Yes,” answered the girl, lowering her eyes.

“The doctor says Frenchy’s gal was not to be skeered. Frenchy is safe and well.”

“Are you sure?” demanded Phoebe.

“So help me,” answered the boy, raising his hand to heaven.

“But what does it mean?” broke in Miss Campbell. “I don’t like the sound of it at all. Why has the doctor sent for both of you boys? Why should we be left alone? It’s not like the doctor at all.”

“They ain’t got to go no distance much, lady,” the boy assured her. “They’ll be back inside of fifteen minutes,” and being the prince of liars and an actor of precocious ability, he succeeded in persuading them that Ben and Percy must follow him without delay.

The girls were still gathering up the rugs and cushions preparatory to going into the house, when there came another interruption that frightened Miss Campbell so much that she gave a little cry and seized Billie’s arm.

“It’s only old Granny, the herb-woman,” Billie assured her. “What is it, Granny?”

“Phoebe! They gona’ tar and feather Phoebe an’ her father if they can find him. Go, quick. Lupo an’ his men comin’ up mountain. Hurry and shut house.”

“But I don’t want to bring this danger on my friends,” exclaimed Phoebe. “I will go with you, Granny.”

“No, no, too dangerous,” answered the old woman. “Lupo, he see in dark.”

“Indeed, you shall not go,” broke in Miss Campbell indignantly. “You’ll stay right here and they shall not tar and feather you or anybody else. The low wretches!”

“Shut up house, quick,” was Granny’s last piece of advice as she melted away in the darkness.

Nobody paused to beat down the camp fire or gather up the rugs and cushions. Into the house they scurried and lost no time in drawing the great iron-bound winter doors across the openings into the living room, and bolting them. The doors to the sleeping porches were all carefully closed and locked from the inside. Then they sat down in the immense vaulted room and waited.

Phoebe, sitting apart from the others, seemed very quiet and calm in the face of the danger which threatened her, and Billie knew she was calling on the faith which had never failed her.