The Moffats (8 page)

Joe boosted Jane and Rufus onto the pile of newspapers in the back of the wagon. He jumped up to the seat beside the driver. What a nice man this was! He gave the reins to Joe without his even asking.

"You know the way through town better than I do," he said. "I'm going to take a little nap. Freshen me up for the meeting at Orchard Grove. There's my drum under the seat. Beat that when it's time for me to wake up. It's the only thing aside from an earthquake that will wake me."

Off they went with Joe at the reins! Down Elm Street, past the public library, the hardware shop, the A & P, to the Green, but not on foot—in a horse and wagon. They waved gaily to Mrs. Shoemaker, who waved back at them without a trace of surprise. You'd think she saw the Moffats on horses every day of her life.

When they reached the drinking trough on the Green, Joe said, "Who-a, Billy. Here's where we leave you—I suppose."

Joe sat there a moment, the reins slack in his hands. He had certainly driven that horse well for a beginner, he thought. And that corner where Rock Avenue and Main Street came together was no easy one, either. What a wonderful feeling to drive a horse! He looked at the man, who was still asleep. He must be dead tired. It was a pity he had such a long drive ahead of him. Over three miles he'd have to go. Straight ahead the road led to Orchard Grove. Over there across the Green was Sunday School. The doors were closed. There was no one in sight. The church bells had stopped ringing. Probably Sunday School had already begun. They would be late. One thing he did not like to do was go in late to Sunday School.
Why not drive this man to Orchard Grove instead?
thought Joe.

Joe glanced back at Jane and Rufus. They were swinging their legs and had made no move to jump down.

"Hey, how about our driving this man to Orchard Grove?" he asked them.

"All right." Unanimous consent from Rufus and Jane.

"Salvation Army's just like Sunday School," said Jane.

"But Mama might worry if we're late getting back," said Joe. "Let's see now ... I know what ... we could leave a message for Sylvie."

"On the drinking trough!" said Jane.

"Yes, Sylvie always stops for a drink on her way home," agreed Joey.

Joe had a piece of white chalk in his pocket among all his other valuables, as almost any boy would. Not a boy like Rufus, of course. Not one who had to have his clothes changed every other minute so you could never count on his pocket collection. But Joe had a nice piece of white chalk in his pocket and he handed it to Jane.

"Write big so she won't miss it," he said.

On the dry part of the drinking trough, where the words would not be washed away, Jane printed a short message which said, "Sylvie, we have gone with the Savashun Army. Joe, Jane, Rufus."

"There," she said with satisfaction. "She surely won't miss that."

Then the horse had a drink and they all had a drink, and now they were ready. Up they all climbed and
clup, clup
, down Main Street past the Green to the good hard dirt road that led to Shingle Hill.

The man kept right on sleeping. You would think that bumping over the little wooden bridge at the foot of Shingle Hill would awaken him. But no. He didn't even stir.

Up shingle Hill in a horse and wagon! Many were the times they had plodded wearily up that steep hill on foot to pick violets, or goldenrod and asters. Now up, up the horse drew the light wagon and the three children and the sleeping man. Janey looked at the man, his head on a pile

of newspapers. Yes, he was still asleep. And from time to time he snored, much to everybody's delight. The children began to sing. How far behind them now were Main Street, Sunday School, pot roast, and onions. Up, up, up Shingle Hill.

Rufus and Jane had to hang on tight as they slowly climbed the steep grade.

Joe yelled to them, "If the road gets too steep and the horse stops, you'll have to jump off quick, get a big rock, and put it under the wheel so we won't slide back down the hill."

"Right," said Rufus, "I've seen it done."

But there was no need for emergency measures. The horse was young and strong, and with a slow, steady pace he pulled them all over the brow of the hill. Here Joe drew up at the side of the road. The horse started eating branches off a crab-apple tree.

The Salvation Army man slept on. But the children jumped down, stretched their legs, and looked at the view. Way off through the trees they could see the white spire of Peter Frost's church on the Green. The flagpole, too. Farther on, the sun caught the sparkle of the water of the harbor, and way off on the other side of the harbor they could just make out the slumbering form of the Sleeping Giant—three round hills, lying close together and resembling a huge being resting under a mantle of green trees.

After a few moments Janey said, "We better be going or we'll get the minister here late to the revival meeting."

"Minister!" ejaculated Rufus. "He's not a minister, is he?"

"Well, sort of. And see, he has CAPTAIN on his hat."

"Captain!" repeated Rufus with awe in his voice. "We better take good care of him."

"Well, Captain or no Captain, I wish he had fallen asleep on the newspapers in the back of the wagon, so we could all sit in front," said Jane.

The three looked at the man, but snores were their only answer.

There was beginning to be something exasperating about those snores. "Hey, Captain," yelled Janey.

But the Captain slept on.

"The drum!" said Rufus, reaching for it and sounding a deafening tattoo on it.

Sure enough! The drum did it. The man leaped out of his seat to the ground. He started to wave his arms and talk. Recovering, he looked about him in amazement.

"Is this Orchard Grove?" he asked incredulously. "Or where are we anyway?"

Joe pointed to a sign on the crab-apple tree.

"No, sir," he said, "but don't worry. Orchard Grove's only a couple of miles away. We are going to take you there. Wouldn't you be more comfortable resting on the piles of papers in back?"

The man yawned and stretched. "You're right. I might be," he answered. He lifted an oilcloth curtain that hung there to keep draughts from the back of his neck when he was driving and crawled into the covered part of the wagon. He fell asleep on a pile of newspapers before Joe, Jane, and Rufus even had time to say "Giddyap" to the horse.

Suddenly their road was blocked by a sign:

ROAD CLOSED—DETOUR

"Detour!" said Joe. "Which road, I wonder. Wouldn't you think they'd tell you which one goes to Orchard Grove?"

There were two possible roads to take, with little to distinguish between them.

"I vote on the lower road," said Jane. "It looks as though it's going in about the same direction as the one we're on."

"Yes," agreed Rufus. "That other road looks like it's nothing but an old cow path."

"All right. We'll take the lower one then," agreed Joe. "If it's wrong, we can turn around and come back."

"Hup-hup," said Joe to the horse.

The horse started with a lurch. He swung onto the side road too rapidly. As the wagon turned, the back wheels skidded into the ditch on the side of the road.

"Hey!" cried Jane as she was jolted from her seat to the floor of the wagon.

Joe braced his feet against the floor and called words of encouragement to the horse, "All right, Billy. Hup-hup, Billy," he said.

The horse pulled and strained but the wagon wheels just churned around in the dirt.

"Come on, Billy, come on," the children encouraged.

The horse gave a mighty pull and with a creak and a groan the wagon lurched out of the ditch.

"Phew!" said Joe, mopping his brow. "Narrow escape!"

Jane readjusted herself on the seat next to Joe. "Ouch," she said, rubbing her knees that she had bruised in falling.

Rufus clapped his hands. "Giddyap," he said. The horse burst into a fine gallop jouncing the wagon over ruts in carefree fashion.

Joe, Jane, and Rufus didn't look back. None of them looked back once on the scene of their near disaster. If they had, they might have seen the Captain sprawled on the ground along with piles of newspapers. That last lurch out of the ditch had sent him flying out of the wagon into the ditch. Yes, there he was, leaning on his elbows and cupping his mouth with his hands as he called, "Come back. Come back!"

He was wide awake now all right and he called with all his might. "Come back, I say!"

He might as well be shouting to himself, though. How could the Moffats hear him above the clatter of the horse's hooves and the wagon wheels? They couldn't, of course, and the next minute they had disappeared altogether around the bend in the road.

The children didn't notice that the Captain was gone and they didn't notice the dark clouds that were gathering overhead. Or the way the wind had begun to whistle in the trees and how the leaves were turning their backs to the wind, as though preparing to fend off a blow. They were too engrossed with the exciting business of driving a real horse and wagon to notice these signs.

But the horse knew a storm was coming. He twitched his ears. He lowered and raised his head uneasily. Finally he let out a deep neigh that echoed through the woods.

"What's the matter?" asked Rufus.

As if to answer him, an earsplitting clap of thunder rent the air. The horse reared up on his hind legs a moment and then down the road he tore.

Joe clung tightly to the reins. Janey and Rufus crouched on the floor.

"Orchard Grove ought to be around the next corner. Don't be scared," Joe shouted above the storm.

Orchard Grove wasn't around the next corner. But a welcome sight did meet their eyes. And what a surprise, considering they were expecting Orchard Grove! Instead, there was old Natby's blacksmith shop at the end of Elm Street. This road they had taken had led right around town in a circle. The horse galloped into the shed and came snorting to a stop just as the heavens opened and let down such a rain as had not fallen before that summer. The wind tore branches from the trees. The thunder cracked like a giant whip and lightning sizzled through the air.