Rensselaer Union, Volume 12, Number 1, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 18 September 1879 — A MOUNTAIN RIDE. [ARTICLE]

A MOUNTAIN RIDE.

Of coarse we girls pitied Rachel Tick ham, But we never quite made her one cf as. She was such a shy little thine, and blashed if yoa spoke to her, and acted afraid of her own voice, and wore print dresses all the time, and never was invited to oar parties. She lived in a tumble-down old house which had been a very grand mansion once. The Tinkhams had been great people in my grandmother’s day. Nothing was left of their grandeur now, however, for there had been wine in one generation, and,, whisky in the next, and delirium tremens in the third. Ray's father was the third. She had a wretched time keeping house for him. Her mother was dead. “ We” were the girls of Mrs. Bland’s private school. , A dozen of us were out upon the east veranda one morning. We were all talking at once. Some one, it seemed, had said the High-School girls were better scholars than we were. 44 Very well. So they are.” This was Kate Avery, and she was standing up by the lattice where the morning-glory vines grew, and where a hundred clusters of little bells swung out—blue, and purple, and rose-pink. ; If Kate was anything, she was honest, '••though she was handsome, too. “We have music and French conversation, and Lou has a phaeton, and I have two donkeys, ana Queeny has - been to Europe, but,” lowering her voice, 44 It’s an awful secret though it’s the truth. The High-School girls are miles and miles beyond us in Latin and -mathematics.” “Indeed they are,” said L “Tm what Mademoiselle calls an 4 idgit’ in arithmetic. I really suppose that two and two make four, but if one of those girls were to tell me that they made live, I shouldn’t dare dispute her.” "The fact is,” said Kate, “Little Tinkham is the only one of us who is sure of her multiplication-table. - But then she doesn’t really belong to us. She wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for sweeping and dusting to pay her tuition. There she is this minute.” A small, red-100 king figure in a coarse dress came in sight round the corner. It was Rachel with her load of books in her arms. 44 She has worn that dress every day for three months,” said Lou Stedman ; “I verily believe she goes to bed when it is done up.” * 44 My dear, she can’t. She has to wash and iron it herself. O, there is Queeny P’ cried Kate. It was such a gentle, graceful girl who came walking fast to overtake Ray, canght step as she overtook her, and began taudng pleasantly. “ Doesn’t she look nice in that seal-brown suit? And isn’t it just like her to carry Bay’s books for herF’ Queeny’B real name was Alice. You * would have known why we called her Queeny if you had seen her walk beside Little Tinkham that morning, Open the gate, and stand still, erect, with that grand way of hers, for the girl to pass through. I believe we all rather worshiped Queeny. Kate met them with her forehead all tied up into hard knots, and asked Ray “Didn’t she 4 want to be an angel,’ and help her with thoee dreadful fractions F’ i So they two sat down on the doorstep, ana the rest went into the schoolroom. Then Lon called out to Ray to come and dust her desk. She said, 44 it wasn’t half-dusted.” Queeny said: 44 Ray is busy, I will do it;” and she, silent, and looking prouder than ever, dusted Lou's desk herself. It was this morning, Friday, that Mrs. Bland told us that to-morrow would be 44 Mountain Day.” All the schools in our town drive to the mountain once a year. . Our day always came in September. This time Mrs. Bland couldn’t go, so she sent along her cousin to matron ize us. She was a fidgety person, afraid of spiders, and no good any way. 44 We are to start at nine o’clock,” Queeny said. 44 Ray, can you be ready eo early?” . . „ Queeny'was a new scholar. She didn’t know that Ray never went with us to such places. Now she flushed and replied: “I don't think I can go to the mountain.” “ Certainly you are going.” Alice said it in her queeniest way. “If yon can’t go to-morrow,-we will put off going.” “ Saturday is my day to clean the school-room,”' Ray answered. “We will clean it. Let’s begin this minute,” and off came Queeny p s cuffs, and Kate’s, all the cuffs, in fact We made a little pile of them out by the geranium-bed. We went to work, and had such fun sweeping and scrubbing.

Jugt imagine Kate and Queeny washing the They did Uw^too. “ Now, remember,” Queenysaid, tbe last thing; “everybody u to war her oldest dress. And, Bay, be kind enough to bring hard-boiled eggs sos your luncheon? One apiece for us ail round?” Bay looked bright all over, and said Now, I think it was just beautiful of Queeny to think of that. She knew Little Tinkham couldn’t bring frosted cake and French rolls as the rest of us did. * So she spoke of the eggs. We all remembered that Bay had wonderful chickens.. I am sure tbe word about old dresses, too, was meant to help her. Tbe next morning Obed Tain tor came round with his uncovered omnibus, and his two great horses, and picked us up. We went for Bay last. She was standing in front of the old house, beside the tumble-down gate, with her basket of eggs in her hand. She looked perfectly happy, and her dress was so clean and smooth, Kate whispered to me: “That dress has been washed and ironed sinoe last night. Just think of it” " It was a clear, warm morning, and every one was in such a glow of good spirits. 1 think we were all glad we bad Rachel with us. But if it hadn’t been for Queeny, Bay would never have gone, and if Bay hadn’t gone, the rest of us would never have come home, and this story—for there is a story —would never have been told. It is eight miles to the mountain, and there is a carriage-road to the top. The last two miles are very hard and steep, because you rise nearly a thousand feet above the level of the Connecticut Biver, in that distance. But Obed was a steady, good driver, and his horses were steady, good horses. We always drew lots for the seat beside Obed. and it was one of our treats to get him talking about his “ team,” as he called it. “What are their names?” asked Qaeeny.

“Well”. a pause. Obed was a slow talker, bat he had a great deal to say. “The off one there is Grant, an’ the nigh one he is Sherman. Yon see, them creeturs was colts in war times, ’n’ I Darned ’em on ’count o’ the’r dispositions. ’T used to be sayin’ in them days that ‘Gin’ral Grant wa’n’t afeard o’ nothin’ ’t he could see, 'a' Sherman he wa’n’t afeard o’ nothin* ’t he couldn't see.’ An’ that air was just the case with them two colts.” “ Are they afraid of the cars?” “ Aint afeard o’ nothin’ in natur.” Obed paused for us to think this over, and then went on: “ Know too much, them creeturs do. They’ve carried a load to the mountain four times a week all summer. They’d take ye ’bout’s well es I wa’n’t along. They know—well—beat’s all what them animals know. Understand ’t Tm talkin’’bout’em this minit’s well ’s you do. They’re used to being to. My wife she thinks a sight of ’em. Beats all! She’ll go out to the barn, and she'll carry ’em apples, and she’ll be all over ’em; an’ one week when she was sick, an’ kep’ i* the house, you c’n b’lieve it or not, but it’s a fact that them creeturs lost flesh. She braids up their front hair for ’em, and ties it with a red ribbin one day. an’ then the next day she unbraids it, and it’s crimped, all in the fashion, you’ll understand. As they was a cornin’ to a party to-day, they’ve got their hairs crimped.” * But alas for Grant, and alack for Sherman! It was a terrible piece of work that you came near doing that day, though we girls never shall feel that yon were much to blame. You see this was what happened. We were all tucked into the wagon as tight as tigs in a box, that afternoon, ready to start for home, when Lou called ont that she had left her parasol. She most get out, and run up to the tower to get it. “ You just keep y’r aittin’,” said Obed. “I’ll fetoh yer umberill;” and he started for the tower. It was about ten rods off. The tower and the stable are built in a .small cleared sphoe at the top of the mountain. All around and below are thick old woods and great rocks. Obed had just gone out of sight when Queeny gave a little scream, and put her haiid to her eyes. “ Something has stung me,” she said, and then, that instant, while wd were all looking at her, it happened. * , The horses both reared, then gave a plunge, the omnibus seemod to rise from the gronnd with a great leap, and sooner than I can tell it, wo were all being borne, at an awful speed, down that narrow rocky road. I glanced toward Grant and Sherman, and saw a pair of terrible, wild animals. I looked toward the girls, and saw two rows of white, frightful faces.

The reins were dragging on. the ground. Some of us were shrieking, .“Whoa!” A few were getting ready to jump. All this in an instant, and then, suddenly, above the noise of the wheels and of everything else, we heard a voice ring ont clear; “Sit still, girls! I think I can stop the horses.’” It was Ray Tinkham, of all people in the world. She stood up with a steady look in her eyes. I must explaiir here that the road from the tower runs down a gentle slope for half a mile, and then there comes a sharp turn. Beyond that is Long Hill, the steepest, most dangerous part of the way. Kate seized my hand and whispeied: “If the horses are not stopped before they get to the turn, we shall all be killed.’" Ray was climbing over the driver’s seat. She always could climb anywhere, like a cat. She didn’t pause an instant, bnt she called back to me: “Natty Brock, put on the brakes. The rest of yon sit still. Only pray as hard as you can.” I sprang to the driver’s seat, and Jammed down the handle of tHe brakes. prayed, too. I believed I should never pray again: I saw and thought of a hundred things at once. I saw the great treetrunks and the huge black rocks close upon us. I remembered the clematis over the front door at home, and wondered who would tell my father that I was dead. Meanwhile, Ray was over the dashboard, and down with her feet over the whiffletree. How she did it I shall never know; but the next we saw of her, she was creeping along the pole between the hones, steadying herself with her hands on their backs. • Grant and. Sherman went tearing on like wild horses, their manes flying.

and their great bodies qui raring all **Brery instant the girls ware beooasing more excited. Queeny was holding Mrs. Bland’s oousin with both hands, to prevent her leaping oat. Kate cried: “We are almost to the tarn. What is Kay doing? She will frighten the horses worse than ever!” and she oovered her eves. The brow of the hill was not forty feet off. Far behind, we could hear Obed’s voice screaming to the hones to stop. The keeper of the tower was flying toward us. But they were too far away to do any good. There seemed not one chance m a thousand for us. But that very instant, when we all believed we were lost, we looked at Kay. We saw her reaoh forward with one hand and grasp the reins which joined the heads of the horses together. Just where the connecting straps crossed one another her fingers clutched them. One sharp, fierce jerk of those great heads backward, and the horses uackened their speed, and in an instant more stopped. The wagon stood still, although the creatures were snorting and plunging yet. Bat that small hand of Bay’s held on with a death-grip, and in a

moment more Obed caught Grant and Sherman by their heads. His face was as white as it ever could be, and he spoke one word only. It was: “ Hornets!” The horses had been stung in more than twenty places. They were unharnessed at once, and we were all out on the ground directly. We laughed and we cried, and Mrs. Bland’s cousin distinguished herself by fainting away. “I don’t blame the horses in the least,” Qneeny said. “One sting is bad enough,” and she showed where her eye was beginning to swell. “ The hornets came swarming out of the woods, there.” As for Obed, he was a humiliated man. “Bat I was the one to blame,” he said. “I thought Grant an’ Sherman would ’a’ stood till the’r hides dropped offn the’r ribs; but I tell ye ther’ never was the team hitched np yet that ’nd stan’ hornets. Blarstthe Greeters!” he added, in undertone. “Bat Bay Tinkham Kate, and she went np to where the little thing was sitting on a rock, looking pale. “ Yon saved ns all, you blessed child. How did you ever think of doing that?” “My grandmother stopped some runaway horses in that way once,” gasped Bay. “ I didn’t know whether I could stop Grant and Sherman, bat I knew somebody must do something, or we should all be dashed to pieces.” “Well,” spoke Obed, “I’ve known o’ that thing’s bein’ done just once afore in my life-time, but it was a boy that did it. There's a say in’ ’mongst teamin’ men that, when you hain’t got the reins, you can stop a runaway if yon walk oat on the pole and grip hold o’ the bridles, but’taint every horse that’ll stand it.” “But wasn’t it splendid of Bay?” cried Lon, going over and putting her arm around her.

“Never knew a girl c’d have so much Eluck,” answered the driver. “If she adn’t ’a’ been light on ’er feet, an’ level in ’er head, she never c’d ’a’ done it. More’n all that, ’twas a master good thing, ’t Grant and Sherman was used to a woman’s handlin’ on ’em. Rachel’s hand kind o’ calmed ’em down the minute she touched ’em. I minded that where I was. I tell ye if them horses hadn’t been unoommon good horses, nothin’ on airth would ’a’ stopped ’em.” And Ray? I never meant to make so long a story of it, but I most tell you that we gave her a party soon after this. All the fathers, and mothers, and brothers, went, and we carried her a carpet for her room, and a new cham-ber-set and nice new clothes all through; and a few of tbe gentlemen gave her a bank-book, whatever that may mean. I only know that she was to have the income of certain money, • and that it was enough to educate her thoroughly. We had the best time that night, and Queeny’s father took Ray ont to supper, and she sat at his right hand, and everybody treated her as though she had been a princess of the blood. I do believe there never was a happier girl on earth than Rachel was that night. —Julia Eastman, in Youth's Companion.