The Thorn in the Nest

Tig made haste to the stable, saddled and bridled Fairy and a pony belonging to the major with unaccustomed speed, and led them round to the front door, where Miss Nell was waiting in riding hat and habit.

"You were very quick this time, Tig," she said with an approving smile.

"Ki! Miss Nell," he answered, grinning from ear to ear, "no wondah; I'se in a big hurry, les' some dem gentlemen mout be comin' 'long 'fo' we gets off."

"What gentlemen, Tig?" she asked, laughing, as she stepped upon the horse-block and sprang lightly into the saddle.

"Oh, de doctah, or Mistah Dale, or some dem other gentlemen. 'Tain't often dis chile gets a chance to take care ob you, Miss Nell."

"Do you think you can take care of her, Tig?" asked Mrs. Lamar, coming to the door with a basket in her hand.

"Guess I kin, mistis, I ain't 'fraid no Injuns, nor b'ars, nor painters!" cried the boy, straightening himself with an air of injured dignity.

"Don't boast, Tig, till your courage has been put to the test," answered his mistress. "Here, take this basket and see if you can get it full of ripe mulberries for tea. Nell, I really don't feel quite sure that I ought to let you go without a better protector."

"Nonsense, Clare! I've done it before," returned the young girl, her color rising. "And the responsibility is not yours, I'm old enough to decide such matters for myself." And with that she touched Fairy lightly with the whip and cantered off, Tig following close in her rear. It was a lovely summer afternoon, the heat of the sun tempered by a cool, refreshing breeze. Fairy had scarcely been out of the stable for a day or two and was full of spirit, and Nell reveled in the delight of dashing away at almost headlong speed through the forest and over the prairies.

So enjoyable did she find the swift movement, with the sense of wild freedom it gave her, the beauty of the landscape, the sweet scent of the woods and wild flowers, that she went much farther than she had at first intended, or, indeed, was aware of.

Then coming back she stopped with Tig under a cluster of mulberry trees on the edge of a prairie, to fill the basket with fruit.

Not caring to stain her pretty fingers, she left the boy to fulfil the task alone, while she wandered to and fro, gathering flowers.

The sun was getting low as they remounted.

"We must hurry, Tig," Nell said, glancing uneasily toward the west. "I did not think we had been here so long."

They sped across the prairie and entered the wood that lay between it and the town. Here it was already dusk, and Nell urged Fairy on, her heart beating fast, while she glanced hither and thither, seeming to see an Indian, a bear, wolf, or panther behind every tree.

Suddenly she caught sight of a pair of fiery eyes glaring upon her from an overhanging branch, and the next instant, with a low, fierce growl, something leaped upon the back of her horse, a huge paw was laid on her shoulder, a hot breath fanned her cheek, while a wild shriek from Tig rang in her ears, and Fairy reared and snorted with fear.

Oh, the mortal terror that seized upon Nell, almost freezing the blood in her veins! Closing her eyes she leant forward and threw her arms about the neck of her pony, clinging to it in frantic terror for what seemed an age of suffering, but was in reality scarcely a moment.

A bullet, sped by an unerring hand, struck the panther in the eye, and it fell to the ground dead.

A horseman, hurrying from the direction of the town, put spurs to his steed at sound of the report of the gun, and almost before its echoes had died away, Nell was in her brother's arms.

He soothed and caressed her, she lying on his breast, sobbing and speechless with fright.

"Ugh! big fellow!" grunted a voice near at hand, and Nell, looking up, saw a tall Indian standing over the prostrate wild cat, the outline of whose form could be dimly discovered in the fading light.

"Wawillaway," said the major, holding out his hand to the chief, "you have saved my sister's life, and I can never fully return the obligation! Come with us to Chillicothe. My house shall be your home whenever you choose to make it so."

Wawillaway grasped the offered hand in one of his own, while with the other he held the bridle of Fairy, who was shying at the dead panther, and trembling and snorting with fear.

"Indian good gun," he said. "Indian go to white man's wigwam. Come, white squaw very much 'fraid."

"Yes, Nell, we had better go; for it grows darker every moment. Can you sit your horse now?"

"Yes," she whispered, "I must. But oh, Percy, keep close to me!"

"As close as I can. I will lead your horse," he answered, as he placed her in the saddle. "But where is Tig? I thought he was with you."

Tig had fled in overpowering terror, at the instant of the discharge of Wawillaway's gun, and on reaching home they found him there, telling an incoherent story of attacking Indians and wild cats, that filled the household with alarm.

Great was their relief at the sight of the major and his sister, though Nell was in a state of nervous prostration and excitement that made it necessary to put her at once to bed and watch by her during the night.

The next day she was but little better, and on her account her brother had been anxiously looking for Dr. Clendenin's return, and had now come in search of him.

Kenneth was not long in making his appearance. His manner was calm and quiet as usual, and shaking hands with the major, who expressed hearty satisfaction at seeing him again, he asked if the family were all well.

"All but Nell," was the reply, "and I don't know that there's much amiss with her. But I should like you to see her. She had a terrible fright yesterday, and doesn't seem to get over it."

Kenneth's look was anxious and inquiring.

"I supposed you had heard – " the major began, but Dale interrupted, "No, no, he hasn't had time to hear anything yet, or even to eat; and here comes Zeb with his supper. I told him to bring it over to your office, doctor."

"Thank you," said Kenneth, "but it can wait. I will go with you at once, major."

But the major would not hear of it.

"There is no hurry," he insisted. "Besides you ought to hear the story of her fright before seeing her, and may as well do so while breaking your fast."

Kenneth yielded, for he had not tasted food since early morning, and felt in sore need of it.

"What can we do for her?" asked the major in conclusion.

"Divert her mind from the subject as much as possible," returned the doctor. "Dosing is not what she needs."

"My opinion exactly," responded the major, "but I must crave your assistance in applying your prescription."

"Certainly, my dear sir, I will do my best."

It was a fair summer evening, the sun just touching the treetops, as Kenneth left his office in company with the major.

People were gathered about the doors of their dwellings or places of business, the day's work done for most of the men, though the busy housewives still plied the needle, sewing or knitting; thus exemplifying the truth of the old adage, "Man's work is from sun to sun, but a woman's work is never done."

Children played hide and seek among the trees, their glad voices ringing out upon the quiet air in merry shouts and silvery laughter; but many of them, on catching sight of Kenneth, left their sport to run and take him by the hand, welcoming him with eager delight, and asking him where he had been so long.

Older people, too, crowded about him with a like greeting and the same question.

He parried it as best he might, not feeling disposed to be communicative on the subject, returned the handshakings and kindly greetings, and asked after the health of each family represented.

"You have won all hearts here, Dr. Clendenin," the major remarked, when at length they had parted with the last of the friendly interrogators and were drawing near his own door.

"Oh, I believe it is so!" Kenneth answered, with a glad lighting up of his grave, almost sad face, "and I sometimes wonder how it has come about."

"Love begets love, and so it is with disinterested kindness also," the major answered.