Before the week was over, winter had come to Sunrise Cove and The Corners in earnest. Snow fell and drifted, until there was scarcely anything to be seen one morning when Carolyn May awoke and looked out of her bedroom windows but a white, fleecy mantle.
This was more snow than the little girl had ever seen in New York. She came down to breakfast very much excited.
“What are we going to do about all this snow?” she asked. “Why! there isn’t any janitor to shovel off the walk, and no street cleaners to clear the crosswalks! How am I ever going to get to school?”
“I reckon you’ll get to school, all right, if the men get through with the ploughs before half-past eight. And if Miss Minnie gets here,” chuckled Uncle Joe.
He went out and fed the fowls for Aunty Rose and did the other chores. But when he started for the store, promising to send Chet Gormley up to dig the paths, he had to wade through drifts higher than the top rail of the fences. 151
“Don’t—don’t they shovel up the snow and put it in carts and carry it all away?” asked Carolyn May of Aunty Rose.
“Who ever heard the like?” returned Mrs. Kennedy. “What kind of a way is that to do, child? And where would they cart it to? There’s just as much snow in one place as there is in another.”
“Why, in New York,” explained the little girl, “there’s always an army of men at work after a snowstorm—poor men, you know. And lots and lots of wagons. My papa used to say the snow was a blessing to the poor who wanted to earn a little money.
“Of course, lots of the men that shovel snow don’t have warm coats—or mittens, even—or overshoes! They wrap their feet in potato sacks to keep them warm and dry.”
“Well, well,” murmured Aunty Rose. “So that’s what they do with snow in the city, is it? Live and learn.”
Uncle Joe had shovelled off the porch and steps, and Prince had beaten his own dooryard in the snow in front of his house. For he had a house of his own, now—a roomy, warm one—built by Mr. Parlow.
It must be confessed that, although Uncle Joe paid for the building of this dog-house, it never would have been built by Jedidiah Parlow had it not been for Carolyn May. At first the grouchy old carpenter refused to do the job. 152
“I ain’t got to work for Joe Stagg’s money—not yit, I guess,” growled the carpenter. “Tell him to git somebody else to build his house.”
“Oh, but Mr. Parlow,” gasped Carolyn May, quite amazed, “it isn’t for Uncle Joe, you know!”
“What ain’t for your Uncle Joe?” demanded Mr. Parlow.
“The dog-house.”
“Why ain’t it? His money’s goin’ to pay for it, I reckon!”
“Oh, yes, that’s so,” admitted Carolyn May. “But Prince is going to live in it, and, you know, Prince is a friend of yours, Mr. Parlow.”
“Wal, no gittin’ around sich logic, I do allow,” grunted the old man, his eyes twinkling, and the flush of anger dying out of his cheeks. “I s’pose it is fur the dog. And the poor beast ain’t nobody’s enemy. Wal!”
So Prince had his warm house for the winter. Now Carolyn May put on her rubber boots and warm coat and hood and went out to release the dog for his morning run. His “morning scramble” would be the better term on this occasion. Why, at the first bound he was buried in a drift!
“Isn’t it lucky,” said Carolyn May to Aunty Rose, who stood in the doorway, “that Prince can smell his way around so well? If it wasn’t for his nose, he’d never be able to find his way out of those drifts. If I fell down in one, I know I wouldn’t be able to smell my way out again.” 153
But after Chet Gormley had come and dug the paths, and the ox-teams had come along with ploughs to break out the roads, she found it possible to go to school. She took Prince with her.
Prince had learned to behave very well at school now. He was not allowed in the schoolroom, but he remained on the porch or went back home, as he pleased. But he was always waiting at the door for his little mistress at recess and when the session closed.
At noon Uncle Joe came home, dragging a sled—a big roomy one, glistening with red paint. Just the nicest sled Carolyn May had ever seen, and one of the best the hardware dealer carried in stock.
“Oh, my, that’s lovely!” breathed the little girl in awed delight. “That’s ever so much better than any sled I ever had before. And Prince could draw me on it, if I only had a harness for him. He used to drag me in the park. Of course, if he saw a cat, I had to get off and hold him.”
Mr. Stagg, once started upon the path of good deeds, seemed to like it. At night he brought home certain straps and rivets, and in the kitchen, much to Aunty Rose’s amazement, he fitted Prince to a harness which the next day Carolyn May used on the dog, and Prince drew her very nicely along the beaten paths.
“But, if anybody would have told me, I’m free to confess I would not have believed it,” Aunty Rose declared, referring to Mr. Stagg’s actions in 154 stronger language than Carolyn May had ever heard her use before.
Carolyn May made a practice now of kissing Uncle Joe good-night when he started for the store after supper. “’Cause I’m always in bed when you get home,” she explained.
Aunty Rose appeared not to notice this display of affection, and after a time Mr. Stagg got so used to it that he positively did not blush. But she climbed right into his lap and kissed him for the harness and sled, and the housekeeper felt in duty bound to comment upon it.
“You’re on the road to spoil that child, Joseph Stagg,” she said.
“Ahem!” coughed the hardware dealer, eyeing her with more boldness than he was usually able to display. “Ahem! I reckon somebody else around here began the spoiling—if any—Aunty Rose.”
And the woman smiled grimly. “Well,” she said, “you should not be in your second childhood—at your age.”
By Saturday the roads were in splendid condition for sleighing. The heavy sleds, transporting timber or sawed planks from the camps and mills to town, packed the snow firmly.
So Carolyn May went sledding. Soberly, Prince drew the new red sled and his little mistress along the road towards Miss Amanda’s. Of late the little girl wanted to see the carpenter’s daughter just as frequently as possible. There was a secret 155 understanding between Miss Parlow and Carolyn May—something both thought of continually, but of which neither spoke directly.
Carolyn May knew that the pretty lady was glad that Uncle Joe had come to love her. Every mark of affection that the hardware merchant showed his little niece the latter retailed to Miss Amanda, and each event lost nothing in the telling.
Now she desired to show her friend the new sled and Prince’s harness. Mr. Stagg might still pass the Parlow house with his face averted; nevertheless, his praises were sung to Miss Amanda continually by Carolyn May.
“Now, Prince,” said the little girl as they set forth, “I do hope we don’t meet any cats—or other dogs, either. Dogs are bad enough; but, you know, if you see a cat you cannot keep your mind on what you are doing.”
Prince whined and wagged his ridiculous tail. It did seem as though he knew just what she was talking about.
However, until they got away from The Corners, at least, they met with no adventure. The blacksmith hailed Carolyn May—he was a jolly fellow—and asked her if she wanted to have her horse sharpened.
“No, thank you, Mr. Lardner,” the little girl replied. “You see, Prince has got his claws, so he can’t slip on the hard snow. He doesn’t need to be sharpened like the horses.” 156
It was not altogether a pleasant afternoon, for there was a curtain of haze being drawn over the sun, and the wind was searching. And not only did the wind cut sharply, but it blew clouds of light snow from the tops of the drifts into one’s face and eyes. Carolyn May almost wished she had not started for Miss Amanda’s house—and this before she was halfway to her destination.
Prince, however, did not seem to mind it much. The sled slipped easily over the beaten snow, and Carolyn May was a light load for him, for Prince was a strong dog.
Out of sight of the houses grouped at The Corners the road to town seemed as lonely as though it were a veritable wilderness. Here and there the drifts had piled six feet deep, for the wind had a free sweep across the barrens.
“Now, there’s somebody coming,” said Carolyn May, seeing a moving object ahead between the clouds of drifting snow spray. “Is it a sleigh, Princey, or just a man?”
She lost sight of the object, then sighted it again.
“It must be a man. It can’t be a bear, Princey.” Everybody had told her there were no more bears left in the woods about Sunrise Cove.
“And, anyway, I’m only afraid of bears at night—when I go up to bed in the dark,” Carolyn May told herself. “Here it is broad daylight!”
Besides, if it were any such animal, Prince would surely give tongue. He only sniffed and pricked up 157 his ears. The strange object had disappeared again.
It was just at the place where the spring spouted out of the rocky hillside and trickled across the road. There was a sort of natural watering trough here in the rock where the horses stopped to drink. The dog drew the little girl closer to the spot.
“Where has that man gone to? If it was a man.”
Prince stopped suddenly and whined.
“What is the matter, Princey?” demanded Carolyn May, really quite disturbed. There was something in the drift that the wind was heaping beside the beaten track. What could it be? “Prince!”
The dog barked, and then looked around at his mistress, as though to say: “See there!”
Carolyn May tumbled off the sled in a hurry. When she did so she slipped on a patch of snow-covered ice and fell. But she was not hurt.
“There! that’s where the water runs across the road. It’s all slippy—Oh!”
It was the sleeve of a man’s rough coat thrust out of the snowbank that brought this last cry to the child’s lips. In a very few moments the sign of the unfortunate wayfarer would have been completely covered in the drifting snow.
“Oh, oh! It’s a man!” burst from Carolyn May’s trembling lips. “How cold he must be!”
She was cold herself—and frightened. She had heard of people dying in the snow; and this person seemed perfectly helpless.
“Oh, dear me, Prince!” she cried, recovering a 158 measure of her courage. “We can’t let him die here! We’ve just got to save him!”
She plumped down on her knees and began brushing the snow away. She uncovered his shoulder. She took hold of this with her mittened hands and tried to shake the prone figure.
He moved. It was ever so little, but it inspired Carolyn May with hope. She was not so much afraid of him now, she told herself. He was not dead.
“Oh, do wake up! Please wake up!” she cried, digging away the snow as fast as possible.
A shaggy head was revealed, with an old cap pulled down tightly over the ears. The man moved again and grunted something. He half turned over, and there was blood upon the snow, and a great frosted cake of it on the side of his face.
Carolyn May was dreadfully frightened. The man’s head was cut and the blood was smeared over the front of his jacket. Now she could see a puddle of it, right where he had fallen on the ice—just as she had fallen herself. Only, he had struck his head on a rock and cut himself.
“You poor thing!” murmured Carolyn May. “Oh, you mustn’t lie here! You must get up! You’ll—you’ll be frozen!”
“Easy, mate,” muttered the man. “I ain’t jest right in my top-hamper, I reckon. Hold hard, matey.”
He tried to get up. He rose to his knees, but 159 pitched forward again. Carolyn May was not afraid of him now—only troubled.
“I’ll take you to Miss Amanda,” cried the little girl, pulling at his coat again. “She’s a nurse, and she’ll know just what to do for you. Come, Prince and I will take you.”
The dog stood by whining, acting as though he knew just what the trouble was and was anxious to help. The man struggled up into a kneeling posture.
“My top-hamper ain’t jest right,” he murmured again. “That was a crack! Blood! I reckon I’m some hurt, miss.”
“Well, I should say you were hurt!” Carolyn May responded briskly. “But I know Miss Mandy can fix you up. Let’s go there—now! It’s awfully cold standing here.”
“Belike I can’t get there,” mumbled the man, still on his knees.
“Oh, you must! It’s not far. You were coming towards The Corners, weren’t you?”
“I was bound out o’ town; yes, miss,” the man replied.
“Miss Amanda’s is the last house you passed, then. It isn’t far,” repeated Carolyn May.
“I—I don’t believe I kin make it, matey,” groaned the man, evidently not quite clear in his mind whom he was addressing. He weaved to and fro as he knelt, his eyes half-closed, muttering and groaning to himself.
“Oh, you mustn’t!” cried Carolyn May. “You 160 mustn’t give up. Crawl onto my sled. Prince and I can drag you to Miss Amanda’s. Of course, we can.”
“Believe you’d better leave me here, matey,” muttered the man.
But Carolyn May would not hear to that. She bustled about, brought the sled closer to him, and made Prince stand around properly in his harness. Then she guided the half-blinded man to the sled, on which he managed to drop himself.
“But that dog can’t never pull me, matey,” he declared faintly.
“Oh, yes, he can,” said Carolyn May cheerfully. “I can help, too. When you have to do a thing, my Aunty Rose says, you just up and do it. Now, Princey—pull!”