“goodness me, doro! did you ever see so much out-of-doors before in all your life? isn’t the world awfully big?”
tavia was at the window of the large room in which the girls slept, on the second morning of their stay at the ranch-house and she had not begun to dress. this big world that she was looking out at, seemed just now deserted.
there were miles upon miles of rolling country to north, east, and south. in the early light this vast expanse of out-of-doors was colored in many hues—and the hues were ever changing. the wall of mountains to the west, which shut off their view seemed so near that tavia declared she could run over to them before breakfast!
“you might before breakfast, but not before breakfast time!” laughed dorothy. “mr. ledger says it’s two days’ ride on a good pony to that huge rock that we see standing up there so clearly.”
“i suppose so. lost river is over that way,134 too. the foreman says that most of this rolling country we see belongs to the hardin estate.”
“what a huge, huge place it is!” sighed dorothy. “and what will we ever do with it all?”
“ned wants to raise cattle on it,” chuckled tavia, “but i believe nat would rather raise mischief.”
dorothy did not pay attention to this. she was gazing afar, and said very quietly:
“mr. ledger says the land is rich enough to raise anything.”
“don’t you believe all your hear—and not more than half of what you see,” said her chum, philosophically. “appearances are deceitful. that’s like the little girl who lost her penny.”
“what little girl?” demanded dorothy, dreamily.
“oh! it might have been any little girl—who was sharp,” chuckled tavia. “at any rate a fine, handsome, benevolent old party comes along the street and finds the ragged little girl crying, and asked in that benevolent tone that goes with a white vest and gold-headed cane:
“‘what’s the matter, my little dear? what are you crying for?’
“‘i’ve lost my penny,’ says the kid.
“‘never mind! never mind!’ says the old gentleman, reaching into his pocket. ‘here is a penny,’ and he hands her one. the kid looks up at him and sees right through the game. says she:
“‘why! you horrid man! you had it all the time, didn’t you?’ and the next time,” chuckled tavia, “he will go right along about his business and not try to play santa claus to young ladies to whom he has not been introduced.”
dorothy laughed at her chum’s little story, and said: “i guess most appearances are deceitful. at least, aunt winnie says you mustn’t form an opinion upon mere looks—so that gives me a chance to point a moral, and adorn a tale.”
“there was pat, who was a coal heaver, coming home and finding that the children had been using his ancient order of hibernian regalia-hat to bring home coals in. ‘mary ann! mary ann! phy do youse let thim kids do that?’ holding up the maltreated high hat. ‘i’ve told youse before—i don’t like it!’
“‘shure, pat,’ says she, ‘phat harm does it be doin’? a little more coaldust won’t hurt yez.’
“‘that may be thrue, woman,’ says pat, ‘but yez don’t see the point. when i wear the hat out, shure, an’ take it off, it laves a black mar-r-k around me forehead. an’ wot’s th’ consekences?’ demands pat, warmly. ‘shure it gits me accused of washin’ me face with me hat on!’”
tavia ran out of the room. both girls were well acquainted with the house now. it had most modern improvements and colonel hardin, although he was a man of no family, had entertained largely and believed in having all the comforts attainable. a huge windmill pumped water for the house and stables, for this was not the desert, and a vein of water could be tapped something like a hundred and fifty feet below the surface.
hank ledger had told the girls when they inquired that this vein of water was supposed to be a branch of lost river, which plunged into the earth so many miles away in the low hills to the west.
“tell yuh what!” croaked the foreman, who seemed to be a bird of ill-omen, “ef that thar river is ever turned out onto the desert, as i tol’ the old kern” (colonel) “when he was alive, ye air goin’ tuh shut off yuh own water supply right yere. now! yuh hear me shoutin’!”
“do you suppose that is so?” asked tavia of dorothy.
“mrs. ledger says hank doesn’t know. she’s a real jolly woman, and declares that hank can’t see anything but worry and trouble ahead of him. she says he’d prophesy another deluge if there was a summer shower, and a seven-year drouth if the sun shone two days in succession!”
“but we’re going to know something about lost river to-day—hooray!” cried tavia.
it had been decided that the party would explore the wilder part of the estate—some of it, at least—on this day. hank was to be their leader, and the young folk and mrs. white were to mount ponies and see all that there was to be seen between an early breakfast and suppertime.
the boys were already—early as was the hour—down in the corral picking out the ponies they were to ride. neither nat nor ned wanted “hobby horses”; but as big hank let them have their own choice in the matter, the boys got several falls before they selected ponies that were both spirited and well trained. naturally the foreman selected the mounts for the girls and mrs. white, himself.
mrs. ledger had undertaken the cooking for the party at the big house, for it was hard to get even mexican women at short notice. the girls dusted and ridded up the house every morning, early.
as for old john dempsey, he came out strong! he proved to be just the person needed about the hardin ranch. he was general handy man, indoors and out, and was on this morning engaged in cleaning up the rooms that colonel hardin had used as his office. in the corner was a great heap of papers and rubbish that had been cleared out of the old colonel’s desk after his death, and which the lawyers had examined.
as dorothy came through the hall she peered138 in and saw the old man sorting this rubbish. he turned with a shining face and held out a yellowed paper towards her.
“miss dorothy! miss dorothy! see here, will ye? be my eyes deceivin’ me? shure, i feel like a fairy had led me by the hand into this place.”
dorothy was both amazed and anxious at his earnestness. she ran forward and took the paper which he put reverently into her hand.
it was a letter, and written in a peculiarly long, angular hand. at the bottom was the unforgettable signature, “a. lincoln.”
dorothy gasped, looked back at the old man with shining eyes, and then devoured the letter:
“executive mansion,
“washington, nov. 21, 1864.
“to mrs. bixby,
“boston, mass.
“dear madam: i have been shown in the files of the war department a statement of the adjutant general of massachusetts that you are the mother of five sons who have died gloriously on the field of battle.
“i feel how weak and fruitless must be any word of mine which would attempt to beguile you from the grief of a loss so overwhelming. but i cannot refrain from tendering you the consolation that may be found in the thanks of the republic they died to save. i pray that our heavenly father may assuage the anguish of your bereavement and leave you only the cherished memory of the loved and lost and the solemn pride that must be yours to have laid so costly a sacrifice upon the altar of freedom.
“yours very sincerely and respectfully,
“a. lincoln.”
“oh, mr. dempsey! is it real?” cried dorothy.
“it is that, ma’am,” he said, confidently. “he that was president—and the finest gentleman that ever lived—wrote that letter to a poor widow. how it come in colonel hardin’s papers, i dunno——”
“and the lawyers threw it aside. how awful! they were looking only for stocks, and bonds, and wills, and such,” cried dorothy, eagerly. “yet that letter from president lincoln, mr. dempsey, must be worth a lot of money, too. and you found it, mr. dempsey! it’s yours.”
“oh, no, ma’am. your aunt——”
“would never lay claim to it, i am sure. and if the letter is worth money——”
“what’s this that’s worth money, miss?” asked a suave voice behind her. dorothy dale turned to see the smiling mr. philo marsh in dusty riding clothes standing, hat in hand, behind her.
“good morning, miss!” he said, with a sweeping bow. “i chanced to overhear you. what’s the old fellow found?” and he stretched forth a bold hand and took the letter.
“it belongs to mr. dempsey,” said dorothy, with chilling directness. “i shall tell aunt winnie you are here, sir.”
“oh! don’t let me hurry her,” said the man.
his sharp eyes were fixed upon the letter as dorothy turned away to go to her aunt’s room. when she returned a little later, mr. philo marsh had settled himself in a chair on the veranda to await mrs. white. john dempsey beckoned her into the office and closed the door.
“have a care of that fellow, miss,” he whispered. “he’s a snake in the grass.”
“why do you say so?” asked the girl.
“the rascal offered me fifty dollars for the letter from president lincoln.”
“oh, mr. dempsey! that is a lot of money.”
“why, miss dale! if the letter was mine to sell, i wouldn’t part wi’ it for a fortune. poor i may be,” said old john dempsey, reverently, “but never poor enough to sell a scrap of writin’ in the hand of the greatest hearted and tenderest man this country ever seen—no, ma’am!”
