hotel helicon was shaken out of its sleep by the startling rumor to the effect that miss moyne had fallen down the precipice at eagle’s nest.

of all the rudely awakened and mightily frightened inmates, perhaps miss moyne herself was most excited by this waft of bad news. she had been sleeping very soundly in dreamless security and did not at first feel the absurdity of being told that she had just tumbled down the escarpment, which in fact she never yet had summoned the courage to approach, even when sustained by a strong masculine arm.

“o dear! how did it happen?” she demanded of her aunt, mrs. coleman rhodes, who had rushed upon her dainty couch with the frightful announcement of her accident.

“oh, alice! you are here, you are not hurt at all! oh!” mrs. rhodes went on, “and what can it all mean!”

[52]

everybody rushed out, of course, as soon as hurried dressing would permit, and fell into the confusion that filled the halls and main veranda.

crane was talking in a loud, but well modulated strain, explaining the accident:

“mr. peck and i,” he went on to say, “were enjoying a friendly turn at sword-play up here at eagle’s nest; couldn’t sleep, needed exercise, and went up there so as not to disturb any one. while we were fencing she came rushing past through those bushes and leaped right over with a great shriek. she—”

“don’t stop to talk,” cried mr. e. hobbs lucas, with a directness and clearness quite unusual in a historian. “don’t stop to talk, let’s go do something!”

“yes, come on,” quavered poor peck, his face whiter than the moon and his beard quivering in sympathy with his voice.

“oh, it’s dreadful, awful!” moaned little mrs. philpot, “poor, dear miss moyne, to think that she is gone!” and she leaned heavily on miss moyne’s shoulder as she spoke.

it was a strange scene, too confused for the best dramatic effect, but spectacular in the extreme. servants swarmed out with lights that wavered fantastically in the moonshine, while the huddled guests swayed to and fro in a body. every face was pinched with intense excitement and looked haggard under its crown of disheveled hair. even the hotel windows stared in stupid horror, and the kindly countenances of the negro waiters took on a bewildered and meaningless[53] grin set in a black scowl of superstition and terror.

when dufour came upon the scene, he did not appear in the least flurried, and the first thing he did was to lay his hand on miss moyne’s shoulder and exclaim in a clear tenor strain:

“why, here! it’s all a mistake! what are you talking about? here’s miss moyne! here she stands!”

“mercy! where?” enquired little mrs. philpot, who was still leaning on her friend and shedding bitter tears.

dufour, with a quiet: “please don’t take offence,” put a hand on either side of miss moyne and lifted her so that she stood in a chair looking very sweetly down over the crowd of people.

few indeed are they who can look beautiful under such circumstances, but miss moyne certainly did, especially in the eyes of crane and peck as they gazed up at her.

forthwith the tragedy became a farce.

“that kentuckian must romance, i suppose,” grumbled r. hobbs lucas. “wonder what he’ll tell next.”

“i don’t see how i could be so mistaken,” said peck, after quiet had been somewhat restored, “i would have willingly been sworn to—”

he was interrupted by a dozen voices hurling ironical phrases at him.

“it is every word truth,” exclaimed crane[54] testily. “do you suppose i would trifle with so—”

“oh, don’t you absolutely know that we suppose just that very thing?” said lucas.

with the return of self-consciousness the company began to scatter, the ladies especially scampering to their rooms with rustling celerity. the men grumbled not a little, as if being deprived of a shocking accident touched them with a sting.

“the grotesque idea!” ejaculated dufour. “such a practical joke—impractical joke, i might better say, could originate only between a poet and a critic.”

everybody went back to bed, feeling more or less injured by crane and peck, who shared in their own breasts the common impression that they had made great fools of themselves. if these crest-fallen knights, so lately militant and self-confident, had any cause of quarrel now it was based upon a question as to which should feel the meaner and which should more deeply dread to meet miss moyne on the morrow.

as for miss moyne herself she was indignant although she tried to quiet her aunt, who was ready to shake the dust of mt. boab from her feet at once.

next morning, however, when it was discovered that miss crabb was missing and that after all something tragic probably had happened, everybody felt relieved.