Mildred Keith - Complete 7 Book Collection. Finley Martha
Mildred turned now and then, a tearful lingering look upon their deserted home and this other which was equally familiar, almost equally dear; Miss Stanhope seemed to have some ado to control her feelings of sadness and anxiety for the future; but Mr. Keith was in fine spirits in which the children evidently shared very largely.
Eager to be off, they moved restlessly about asking again and again, "When will the stage come?" and kept sending out reconnoitering parties to see if there were any signs of its approach.
At length they espied it and announced the fact with joyful exclamations as its four prancing steeds came sweeping around the corner and, swaying and rolling, it dashed up to the gate.
The driver drew rein, the guard sprang from his lofty perch, threw open the door and let down the steps.
There were hurried embraces and farewells, a hasty stowing away of bags, bundles, and passengers large and small, in the inside, and of more bulky baggage in the boot of the coach, the steps were replaced, the door slammed to, and amid waving of handkerchiefs and a chorus of good-byes and good wishes, the "toot, toot!" of the guard's horn, the crack of the coachman's whip, they swept away down the street, looking, in all probability, their last upon many a well known object, many a friendly face, nodding and smiling to them from door or window.
Frank Osborne, at work in his mother's garden, dropped his hoe to lift his hat and bow as the stage passed, and to gaze after it with a longing, lingering look.
Spencer Hall, standing, cigar in mouth, on the steps of his father's mansion, did likewise.
But Mildred had turned her head away, purposely, and did not see him.
Never before had Lansdale put on so inviting an appearance, or the surrounding country looked so lovely as to-day, while they rolled onward through the valley and over the hills now clothed in all the rich verdure of early summer and basking in the brilliant sunlight occasionally mellowed and subdued by the flitting shadow of some soft, white, fleecy like cloud floating in the deep azure of the sky.
A few hours' drive took our travellers to the town where they were to exchange the stage for the canal boat, the packet Pauline. She lay at the wharf, and having dined comfortably at a hotel near by, they went on board, taking with them the luggage brought by the stage.
Their household goods had been dispatched on the same route some days before.
Here they were in quarters only less confined than those of the stage, the Pauline's cabin being so narrow that when the table was to be set for a meal, most of the passengers had to go on deck to be out of the way.
All along the side of the cabin ran a cushioned seat; used for that purpose in the daytime and as a lower berth at night; other shelf-like berths being then set up over it; all so narrow that the occupant could scarcely turn upon his couch; and the upper ones so close to the ceiling that it required some care to avoid striking the head against it in getting in or out. Also there was an unpleasant dampness about the bedding.
In the cool of the evening or when the sun was clouded, the deck was the favorite place of resort; but there a constant lookout for bridges must be kept, and to escape them it was sometimes necessary to throw one's self flat upon the deck; not the most pleasant of alternatives.
The progress of these packets was so slow too, that it took nearly a week to reach Cleveland from the point where our friends embarked.
But this mode of travel had its compensations. One was the almost absolute safety; another the ease with which the voyager could step ashore when the boat was in a lock and refresh himself with a brisk walk along the tow-path; boarding her again when the next lock was reached.
This was done daily by some of the Keith family, even the very little ones being sometimes allowed the treat when the weather and walking were fine and the distance was not too great.
Passengers were constantly getting off and on at the locks and the towns along the route, and often the boat was crowded. It was so the first night that our friends spent on board; babies cried, older children fretted and some grown people indulged in loud complaints of scant and uncomfortable accommodations; altogether the cabin was a scene of confusion and the young Keiths felt very forlorn.
But mother, aunt and older sister were very patient, soothed, comforted, and at length succeeded in getting them all to sleep.
Then Aunt Wealthy, saying that she felt disposed to lie down and rest beside the children, persuaded Mrs. Keith and Mildred to go upon deck for an hour to enjoy the moonlight and the pleasant evening breeze with Mr. Keith and Rupert, who had been there ever since supper.
Mr. Keith helped his wife and daughter up the short flight of steps that led from the stern to the deck, and found them seats on some of their own trunks.
There were a number of other passengers sitting about or pacing to and fro; among the former a burly German who sat flat on the deck at the stern end of the boat, his long legs dangling over the edge, his elbow on his knee and his bearded chin in his hand, gazing out idly over the moonlight landscape, while wreaths of smoke from a pipe in his mouth, curled slowly up from his lips.
The Pauline glided onward with easy pleasant motion; all had grown quiet in the cabin below and the song of the bullfrogs, the dull thud of the horses' hoofs and the gentle rush of the water against the sides of the boat, were the only sounds that broke the stillness.
"How nice it is here!" exclaimed Mildred, "the breeze is so refreshing, the moonlight so bewitching!"
"Yes, the country is looking beautiful," said her mother, "and one gets a good view of it here; but I feel somewhat apprehensive in regard to the bridges. We must be on the watch for them and dodge in time."
"We will," said her husband; "though we may pretty safely trust to the steersman; it is his duty to be on the lookout and give timely warning."
"Well, we're facing in the right direction to see them," remarked Rupert, "but that Dutchman back there is not. I s'pose he's safe enough, though, with the man at the helm to sing out as we near them."
With that they fell into talk on other topics, and thought no more of the smoker.
"Bridge!" sang out the steersman, and down went every head except that of the German, who sat and smoked on unmoved.
"Bridge!" The cry was repeated in louder, more emphatic tones.
"Yah, pridge, pridge!" responded the German straightening up a little, nodding his head assentingly, but not looking round.
"Bridge!" sang out the steersman for the third time, "bridge, you stupid lout! dodge or"—
But the boat was already sweeping under, and the bridge taking the German across his shoulders threw him with sudden violence to the platform below, whence he rolled over into the canal, uttering a half stifled cry for help as the water closed over him.
But he rose again instantly panting and spluttering, and striking out vigorously for the boat; he presently succeeded in laying hold of the edge of the platform, and, the steersman lending him a helping hand, clambered on board, crestfallen and dripping, while the crowd on deck, seeing him safe, indulged in a hearty laugh at his expense.
"I loss mein bipe," he said ruefully, shrugging his shoulders and shaking the water from his clothes.
"Well, you got a free bath in exchange and may be thankful you didn't lose your life," remarked the steersman with a grin. "Next time I call out bridge I guess you'll duck your head like the rest."
The rain had been falling heavily all night, but the sun shone brightly, and the clouds were flying before a high wind that blew fresh and cool from Lake Erie as the Pauline glided quietly into Cleveland.
"What a beautiful city!" exclaimed the young Keiths as they stepped ashore. "Do let us walk to the hotel, father, if it is not too far."
"Just as Aunt Wealthy and your mother say," he replied, taking the baby from his wife. "I am told it is but a short distance, Marcia; I will have our heavy baggage carried directly to the steamer which leaves this afternoon; and Rupert and the girls can take charge of the satchels