Ethel Morton at Rose House by Mabell S. C. Smith

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A storm came up as they passed the mountains and the thunder rumbled
unendingly among the hills.

"Listen to the Dutchmen that Rip Van Winkle saw playing bowls when he
visited them during his twenty years' nap," laughed Ethel Brown who was
a reader of Washington Irving's "Sketch Book."

"I don't wonder he felt dozy in summer with such a lovely scene to
quiet him," Mrs. Emerson said in his defence. "I feel a trifle sleepy
myself," and she leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes with an
appearance of extreme comfort.

They passed Kingston which was burned by the British just two months
after the battle of Bennington; and by a large town which proved to be
Poughkeepsie.

"Here's where we should land if we were going to finish our
investigation of colleges by seeing Vassar," said Mr. Emerson.

"I'm glad we aren't going to get off!" exclaimed Ethel Brown. "I'm so
undecided now I don't see how I'll ever make up my mind where to go!"

"Something will happen to help you decide," consoled Dorothy. "Isn't
this where the big college boat races are rowed?" she asked Mr. Emerson.

"Right here on this broad stretch of water. A train of observation
cars--flat cars--follows the boats along the bank. I must bring the
Club up here to some of them some time."

"O-oh!" all the girls cried with one voice, and they stared at the
river and the shore as if they might even then see the shells dashing
down the stream and the shouting crowds in the steamers and on the
banks.

Below Newburgh the river narrowed beneath upstanding cliffs and a point
jutted out into the water.

"Do you recognize that piece of land?" Mr. Emerson asked.

No one did.

"You don't recall West Point?"

"We're in the position now of the steamers and tugs we watched while we
were having our dinner at the hotel. Do you see the veranda of the
hotel? Up on the headland?"

They did, and they felt that they were in truth nearing home. The
remainder of the way was over familiar waters, and they called to mind
the historic tales that Roger and Mr. Emerson had told them on the
Memorial Day trip.

"We've seen so much history in the last week, though," declared Ethel
Blue, "that I don't believe I can ever realize that I'm living in the
twentieth century!"

CHAPTER XIII

HUNTING ARROW HEADS

The week after the home-coming from the Massachusetts trolley trip was
a time of busyness for the Ethels and Dorothy. Helen and Roger and the
grown-ups who had stayed at home had to be made familiar with every
step of the way, and the whole long history lesson that they had had
was reviewed especially for Helen's benefit. She looked up battle
after battle in large histories in the library and was so full of
questions as to how this place and that looked that the girls regretted
that they had not taken a kodak so that they might have gratified her
curiosity by showing her pictures of all the historical spots in their
modern garb.

Affairs at Rose House had to be brought up to date. Mr. Emerson
undertook the management of Mrs. Tsanoff's affairs and went into town
the very day after his return to call on Mr. Watkins and find out where
Tsanoff was working. He found that he had been discharged from his
position but a few days before. He had become so downcast as a
consequence that he had not sent word to his wife of this fresh
disappointment, and he was unspeakably grateful to Mr. Emerson for the
chance that he opened to him. A kodak of his dark, sensible face was
easily obtained to send to Massachusetts and Mr. Emerson went home
feeling that the first step had been well taken.

Making Mrs. Tsanoff understand the new proposition was not easy, but
Mrs. Schuler and Moya had learned something of her language as she had
learned more English during the summer and, when Mr. Emerson showed her
a photograph of the Deerfield farm and told her of its advantages for
her husband and the children she was eager to go to it at once.

"The fields, the cows," she kept saying over and over again, and the
girls realized how strong within her was her love for the country for
which she had made the poor exchange of the city, and they sympathized
keenly.

The result of the correspondence between Mr. Emerson and the Deerfield
people was that the Bulgarians were put on the train for Springfield
within ten days, each one of them, even the twin babies, wearing a
small American flag so that they might be recognized by their new
employer who was to meet them at Springfield and convoy them home.
Mrs. Tsanoff left Rose House in tears, kissing the hands of all the
girls and murmuring her gratitude to all of them over and over again as
she wept and smiled by turns.

The other women had started the embroidery class, teaching each other
and Mrs. Morton, Mrs. Smith and the Miss Clarks. The plan was working
out very well, Mrs. Schuler thought, especially with Mrs. Paterno, who
evidently loved the work and in it was already losing something of her
fear and anxiety.

Roger had made a sideboard for the Rose House dining room assisted by
the members of the Club who were "not off gallivanting," as he
expressed it.

"It's mighty good looking," commented Dorothy as she examined it. "Was
it hard to make? It looks so."

"No worse than that seat we made for Mrs. Schuler's room. We made two
cupboard arrangements for the ends just like those, only we put a door
over each one of them. Instead of a big box between them to be used as
a seat we put a shelf resting on the cleats that went across the backs
of the bookshelves. Then we connected the two cupboards with a long
plank."

"You put a back behind the shelf."

"We put on thin boards for a back, but we haven't decided yet whether
we made a mistake in putting doors in front or not. I like them with
doors the way we have it, but Margaret thinks it would have been rather
good without any doors. What do you think?"

"I think Mrs. Schuler will like it better with doors. The linen or
whatever she keeps in there will be cleaner if it isn't exposed to the
air on open shelves and the doors will serve as a protection against
dust."

They all agreed that it was one of the best pieces of furniture that
they had yet made for the house, and the travellers were sorry that
they had not had a hand in its construction on account of the
experience the progress of the work would have afforded them.

A few days later the Ethels planned an excursion for the benefit of the
younger children which was to be somewhat in the nature of a picnic,
but it was arranged to have everyone attend who could do so.

There was intense excitement among the smaller children when the
announcement was made that the picnic would be held early the following
week, providing the weather proved clear enough not to interfere with
their plans.

Dicky's share in the excitement of the journey was the stirring up of a
deep interest in Indians. When the Ethels told him that they were
going over to the field that Grandfather Emerson was having cleared he
insisted on going with them to hunt for arrow heads. They waited until
a day after a rain had left the small stones washed free of earth, and
they made an afternoon of it, all the Club and all the Rose House women
and children going too. The boys carried hampers with the wherewithal
for afternoon tea, and the expedition assumed serious proportions in
the minds of those arranging it when Dicky asked if they would need one
of Grandfather's wagons to bring home the arrow heads in.

As a matter of fact they did not find many arrow heads. Whether the
earth had not yet been turned over to a sufficient depth or whether the
Indians who had lived about Rosemont had been of a peaceful temper or
whether the field happened not to be near any of their villages, no one
knew, though every one made one guess or another.

They planned the search methodically.

"I saw a lot of Boy Scouts one day clear up the field in Central Park
in which they had been drilling," said Tom Watkins. "They stretched in
a long line across the whole field and then they walked slowly along
looking for anything that might have been dropped in the course of
their evolutions."

"Did they find much?"

"You'd be surprised to know how much!"

"Let's do the same thing here. If we stretch across the field then
every one is responsible for just a small section under his eyes--"

"--and feet."

"--and feet. I wish we had an arrow head to show the women so they'd
know exactly what to look for."

"Father had one in the cabinet," said Roger, "and I put it in my pocket
for just this purpose. I don't know where he got it, and it may not be
of exactly the kind of stone these New Jersey Indians used, but it will
show the shape all right."

"They always used flint, didn't they?" asked Margaret.

"Flint or obsidian or the hardest stone they could find, whatever it
was."

"Bone?"

"Sometimes. I saw quite large bone heads at the Natural History
Museum."

"I've seen life-size boneheads frequently," announced James solemnly,
not smiling until Roger and Tom pelted him with bits of sod.

The arrow head was passed from hand to hand and every one studied it
carefully. Then they stretched across the field and began their
search. The result was not very satisfactory from Dicky's point of
view, for he concluded that he need not have worried as to how the load
was to be carried home. There were only seven found. Of these,
however, Dicky found two, one by his unaided efforts and the other
through Ethel Blue's taking pains not to see one that lay between him
and her. Nobody else found more than one and several of them found
none at all, so Dicky, after all, was hilarious.

In a corner of the field they built a fire and heated water for the tea
in a kettle thrust among the coals. Ears of corn still in the husk
were roasted between heated stones, bits of bacon sizzled appetizingly
from forked sticks and dripped on to the flames with a hissing sound,
and biscuits, fresh from Moya's oven, were reheated near the blaze.

It was while they were sitting around the fire that Dicky's mind turned
to the remainder of the Indian's equipment.

"What did he do with thith arrowhead?" he inquired.

"He tied it on to the end of an arrow, and shot bears with it."

"What'th an arrow?"

"A long, slender stick."

"Do you throw it?"

"You shoot it from a bow."

"What'th a bow?"

"A curved piece of wood with a string connecting the ends."

"How doeth it work?"

Roger heaved a sigh and then gave it up..

"Me for the bushes," he cried. "Language fails me; I'll have to make a
bow and arrow."

"It's the easiest way," nodded Tom. "Bring me a switch and I'll make
the arrow while you make the bow."

"Who's got a piece of string?" inquired Roger a few minutes later as he
held up his handiwork for the admiration of his friends,

James produced the necessary string and Roger strung the bow.

"Now, then, let's see what it will do," he said.

Adjusting the arrow he drew the cord and sent the simple shaft whizzing
through the air against a tree where it stuck in the bark for an
instant before it fell to the ground.

"Do you think it's safe for Dicky to have an arrow as sharp as that?"
inquired Helen.

"That's not sharp enough to do any damage. It didn't hold in the tree."

Dicky was delighted with his new toy and went off to test its power,
followed by Elisabeth of Belgium, Sheila, Luigi and Pietro Paterno,
Olga Peterson and Vasili and Vladimir Vereshchagin. The romper-clad
band stirred the amused smiles of the elders watching them.

"They certainly are the cunningest little dinks that ever happened!"
cried Ethel Brown, establishing herself comfortably to help make small
bows and arrows for the rest of the flock.

The girls as well as the boys of the United Service Club knew how to
use a jacknife and the diminutive weapons of the chase were soon ready.

The Ethels were hunting through the luncheon basket for string when a
howl from the other side of the field made them drop what was in their
hands and rush toward the trees where the children were playing. The
mothers followed them, Mrs. Paterno and Mrs. Vereshchagin in the lead.

"I certainly hope it's not the little Paterno," said Ethel Blue
breathlessly to Ethel Brown as they ran. "Mrs. Paterno never will
forgive Dicky if he's got him into trouble again."

They concluded when they came in sight of the group of children that
the Italian woman had run from nervousness and the Russian because she
recognized the voice of her offspring, for it was Vladimir whose yells
were resounding through the air. Dicky was bending over him and the
other children were standing around so that the runners as they
approached could not see what was the matter.

Mrs. Vereshchagin increased her speed, uttering sounds that fell
strangely on her listeners' ears. The group of children fell away as
their elders came near, and the Ethels, who were in front, saw that
Vladimir was pinned to a tree by Dicky's arrow which had pierced the
fullness of his rompers. He could not be hurt in the least, but the
strangeness of his position had startled and angered him and was
causing the shrieks that had frightened them all.

Fortunately for Dicky, Mrs. Vereshchagin, unlike Mrs. Paterno, had a
sense of humor, and as soon as she saw that her child was neither
injured nor in danger she burst into laughter as loud as his cries of
rage and terror. Roger quickly unfastened him from the tree to which
he was bound and handed him over to his mother, none the worse for his
experience except that his rompers were torn. Turning to Dicky, Roger
decreed that the head must be taken from his arrow.

"It's not your fault, old man," he said; "but Helen was right--this
thing is too sharp."

"I'll tell you what to do, Roger, get some of those rubber tips that
slip on the ends of lead pencils. The English stationer must have
some. If you put them on all these arrows they can't do any harm."

"Meanwhile the kiddies had better not have them," Mrs. Schuler decided,
so they were put aside with the basket, to be finished later when the
needed tips should be procured in Rosemont.

"You got off pretty well, that time, sir," laughed Roger. "What were
you trying to do?"

"I wath an Indian thooting bearth. Vladimir wath a bear."

"A Russian bear. You got him all right; but let me tell you, young
man; you must be mighty careful what you aim at, for international
complications may follow."

"What'th that?"

"That means it's dangerous to aim at _anybody_. I'll make you a target
and when you get so you can hit the bull's eye three times out of five
at a distance of fifteen feet I'll give you a better bow. Is it a
bargain?"

Dicky shook hands on it solemnly.

"Remember now, no shooting at any living thing."

"Not a cat?"

"Not a cat or a bird, a dog or any other animal on two legs or four."

"All right," nodded Dicky, and Roger knew that he would keep his word,
for that is a part of the training of a soldier's son.

The experiences of the afternoon were not yet ended. The arrow episode
over the children looked about for other amusement. They drifted away
from the group still gathered about the embers of the dying fire and
made their way among the bushes standing uncut on the edge of the new
clearing. Once in a while their laughter was borne on the breeze. It
was a long time before any one thought of seeing what they were doing.
Then Ethel Brown rose and sauntered in the direction whence the sounds
came.

"With Dicky in the lead," she thought, "it's just as well to keep an
eye on them."

As she approached the woods she saw the little army of rompered
youngsters, each armed with a switch, and each doing his best to strike
something high over his head. They all stood with their eager faces
looking upward and their arms working busily with what muscle the
summer had given them. Leaves were falling from the bushes and the
lower branches of the saplings that were struck by their rods, and it
was evident that they were causing great destruction to the foliage,
whatever the real object of their attack.

Ethel's wonderment increased.

"Children do get the greatest amount of fun out of the smallest
things," she thought. "What can they be doing?"

When quite near the thicket, however, her slow steps quickened into a
run. Her sharp eyes discovered hanging from one of the trees over the
heads of the children one of the large wasps' nests which seem to be
made of gray paper. It had caught Dicky's attention and he had coveted
it for purpose of investigation. Summoning his cohorts he had pointed
it out to them and had urged them to bring it down. Each one had
broken a stick; some had stripped off the leaves entirely; others had
left a tuft at the end. In both cases the weapons looked dangerously
destructive to Ethel, as she ran toward them and saw one pole after
another swish past the home of the paper wasps and expected the colony
to rush forth to defend their abode. With a cry of warning she bore
down on them and with a sweep of her arms turned them all back into the
open field. Dicky was indignant.

"What you doing that for?" he demanded angrily. "One more thwat and
I'd a had it."

"You don't know what it is," cried Ethel breathlessly. "You'd all be
stung if there were any wasps at home. That's their house and they get
awfully mad."

The children looked back fearfully at the object of their attack.

"You've had a narrow escape," insisted Ethel, and then to divert their
minds from what had happened she made them stretch themselves in a line
and hunt for arrow heads all the way back to their mothers.

"Thith ith a funny thtone," exclaimed Dicky, picking up a rather large
oblong stone that had a groove all around its middle.

"It looks like Lake Chautauqua. doesn't it? You know they say that
'Chautauqua' means 'the bag tied in the middle'."

"Did the Indianth uthe it?" Dicky asked as he laid his trophy in
Roger's hand.

"I rather think they did," returned Roger excitedly. "It looks to me
as if this was a hammer or a hatchet. See--" and he held it out for
the girls and James and Tom to see, "they must have lashed this head on
to a stout stick by a cord tied where this crease is."

"It would make a first-rate hammer," commended James.

"The Indians didn't manufacture as many of these as they did arrow
heads, because, of course, they didn't need as many. I rather guess
you've made the big find of the afternoon," and Dicky swelled with
pride as his brother patted him on the shoulder.

When it became time to go home the Ethels offered to take the short cut
to Rosemont and get the rubber tips for the children's arrows.

"If we go across the field and the West Woods we come out not far from
the stationer's, and we can leave the tips up at Rose House on the way
back so they'll be ready for you to put on to-morrow and the youngsters
can have the bows and arrows to play with right off."

"Let me go," begged Dicky.

"All right," agreed Roger. "Be careful when you go over the railroad
track, girls. Mother isn't very keen on having Dicky learn that road,
you know."

They promised to be careful and set forth in the opposite direction
from the rest of the party whom they left putting together the remnants
of the feast and packing away the plates.

It was an interesting walk. They played Indian all the way. Ethel
Blue's imagination had been greatly stimulated by the tale of the
attack on Deerfield and she pretended to see an Indian behind every
tree. Ethel Brown pretended to shoot them all with unerring arrow, and
Dicky charged the bushes in handsome style and routed the enemy with
awful slaughter.

"This is just the kind of game we ought not to play if we want to make
Dicky think of peace and not of war," declared Ethel Blue at last when
she had become breathless from the excitement of their countless
adventures.

"That's so. It's funny how you forget. It's just as Delia says--we
don't realize how fighting and soldiers and thinking about military
things is put into our minds even in games when we're little."

"I'm really sorry we've done this," confessed. Ethel Brown as they
fell behind their charge. "Dicky's 'pretending' works over time
anyway, and he may dream about Indians, or get scared to go to bed, and
it will be our fault."

"It's rather late to think about it--but let's try not to do it again.
Isn't there something we can call his attention to now to take his mind
off Indians?"

Dicky was marching ahead of them drawing an imaginary bow and bringing
down a large bag of imaginary birds, while from the difficulty with
which he occasionally dragged an imaginary something behind him it
seemed that he had at least slain an imaginary deer.

Naturally, with his hunting blood up, the Ethels found him not
responsive to appeals to "see what a pretty flower this is" or to
examine the hole of a chipmunk. He was after more thrilling
adventures. Still, by the time they reached the railroad track,
everyday matters were beginning to command his attention. This short
cut across the track was one that he had seldom been allowed to take,
and the mere fact of doing it was exciting. He stopped in the middle
and looked up and down the line while the girls tugged at him. It was
only when he saw a bit or two of shining metal which, according to his
arrow head game of the afternoon, he picked up and tucked away in the
pocket of his rompers, that his attention was once more turned to the
gathering of the wonders that seemed to be under his feet all the time
if only he looked for them hard enough.

The errand to the stationery shop was successful. The stationer said
that most pencils now were made with erasers built into them, but that
he thought he had a box of old tips left over. He hunted for them very
obligingly, and set so small a price on them that the Ethels took the
whole box so that they might have a liberal supply in case any were
lost off the arrow heads. Dicky put one in his pocket so that he could
place it on his arrow as soon as he got it into his hands once more,
and he begged the Ethels to go home by way of Rose House so that he
could fix it up that very night.

"Is it early enough?" asked Ethel Blue.

Ethel Brown thought it was.

"But we'll have to hurry," she warned; "there's an awfully black cloud
over there. It looks like a thunder storm."

They scampered as fast as their legs would carry them and reached the
farm in the increasing darkness, but before any rain had fallen. They
found all the bows and arrows standing in a trash basket which Roger
had made for the dining room.

"Mr. Roger stood them up in that so the children wouldn't be apt to
touch 'em," explained Moya.

Dicky sat down on the hearth and set to work on the arrow which he
recognized as his because of its greater length.

"You'll have to hurry or we'll get caught," warned his sister.

"We ought to start right off," urged Ethel Blue. "We'll have to run
for it even if we go now."

Mrs. Schuler brought in the cape of her storm coat.

"Take this for Dicky," she said. "If it does break before you get home
it will rain hard and his rompers won't be any protection at all."

"Put it on now, Dicky," commanded Ethel Brown. "Stand up."

Dicky rose reluctantly.

"Why do you fill up your pocket with such stuff," inquired Ethel
impatiently. "There, throw it into the fireplace--gravel, toadstools,
old brass," she catalogued contemptuously, and Dicky, swept on by her
eagerness, obediently cast his treasures among the soft pine boughs
that filled the wide, old fireplace.

"I'll clear them away," promised Mrs. Schuler. "Hurry," and she fairly
turned them out of the house.

"You made me throw away my shiny things," complained Dicky as they ran
down the lane as fast as they could go.

"Never mind; you'd have jounced them out of your pocket anyway, running
like this," and Dicky, taking giant strides as his sister and his
cousin held a hand on each side, was inclined to think that he would be
lucky if he were not jounced put of his clothes before he got home.

CHAPTER XIV

THE STORM

After all, they need not have jerked poor Dicky over the ground at such
a rapid pace for the storm, though it grumbled and roared at a
distance, did not break until a late hour in the night. Then it came
with a vengeance and made up for its indecision by behaving with real
ferocity.

To the women at Rose House, accustomed to the city, where Nature's
sights and sounds are deadened by the number of the buildings and the
narrowness of the streets, the uproar was terrifying. Flash after
flash lit up their rooms so that the roosters and puppies and pigs and
cows on the curtains stood out clearly in the white light. Crash after
crash sent them cowering under the covers of their beds. The children
woke and added their cries to the tumult.

As the electric storm swept away into the distance the wind rose and
howled about the house. Shutters slammed; chairs were over-turned on
the porch; a brick fell with a thud from the top of the chimney to the
roof; another fell down the chimney into the fireplace where its
arrival was followed by a roar that seemed to shake the old building on
its foundation.

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