CHAPTER V

WHAT HAPPENED IN THE NIGHT

Oriole slept so heavily when she first went to bed that an earthquake might have shaken Harbor Island without awaking her. The exposure to the cold and the heat of the kitchen afterward, together with the hearty supper she ate, served to deaden her senses.

If she dreamed--of the twins or of the strange boy, Teddy Ford, in whom she had become so greatly interested--the dream did not become a nightmare. She slept calmly even when some disturbance rose outside the cottage on the bluff.

Uncle Nat and Ma Stafford heard this noise however; for it came before they had thought of bed. First it was the creaking of sail-blocks and runners on the frozen harbor. Uncle Nat got his coat and hat and went to the door.

"Another o' them pesky iceboats, 'Thaniel?" asked Ma, busily threading a needle under the Argand lamp.

"I cal'late," agreed the lightkeeper, as he opened and shut the door quickly, himself on the outside.

He saw the falling sail of the ice-craft down in the cove. One of the men tumbled off and started across the ice and up the path.

"Sho!" muttered Nat Jardin, "it's Mr. Langdon, and he's some disturbed, now, ain't he?"

The burly ranchman seized upon Nat Jardin the moment he reached his side, crying in a muffled voice:

"My babies? What's happened to them, Mr. Jardin? Are they----"

"No, they ain't," said the lightkeeper coolly. "You can slat your sails and lash the tiller. Ain't a thing to worry about."

"Thank God!" ejaculated Harvey Langdon. "And Oriole?"

"Right as can be. Don't fret yourself."

"They told me that all the children had been in the water."

"And they didn't tell you no lie--for once," said the old man, leading the ranchman toward the cottage door. "But Ma's fixed them all up and they are abed."

"Oriole! She got them out of the water, did she?" said Langdon. "She is a wonder, that girl."

"Well, I cal'late she helped save the twins," said Nat Jardin, loyally. "Yes, Oriole is some girl."

"I can never repay her. But, Nat Jardin, I want to do much for that girl."

"Way it looks," muttered the lightkeeper, "somebody ought to do a lot for her. I don't cal'late her mother or father will ever show up this side of the River Jordan, Mr. Langdon."

"I am afraid you are right," admitted the ranchman. "I have been trying to find out about them on my own account, and it seems there is nothing to discover. The _Helvetia_ sank, I am afraid, with all that were left aboard her."

"Sho!" muttered Nat Jardin, "I begun to believe that long ago."

"I must take the children back to the port at once," said Mr. Langdon, when he welcomed Ma Stafford. "They have no dry clothes here and I can take care of them better at the hotel. Besides, I shall not feel secure until the doctor has seen them. And Oriole----?"

"Now," said Ma, with conviction, "you wouldn't disturb the girl out of her first sleep. Just you send word to Becky Joy. Oriole can get back all right to-morrow. The twins is dif'rent. Though for my part I wouldn't risk them, nor myself, on one o' them iceboats."

"I have sailed those sort of things before," Mr. Langdon said carelessly. "You don't think the children have taken cold, Mrs. Stafford?"

"Not at all. You take 'em wrapped in blankets I'll give ye, and they will come to no harm--though 'tis a master cold night outside."

Nobody chanced to say anything about Teddy Ford, the boy who had really saved the twins and helped Oriole out of the sea. Langdon was anxious to get back to town. He had great faith in doctors, and he wanted Doctor Simms to look at the twins.

Marian did not even awaken when they lifted her out of Uncle Nat's bed; and as for Myron, he was too brave a boy to fuss. Their father carried them down to the ice without assistance, and Oriole did not even dream that the twins were disturbed. Uncle Nat and Ma Stafford went to bed and all was quiet about the cottage on the bluff when Oriole did awake.

She had no idea what time it was, only that it was pitch dark--or seemed to be--outside. Her first thought was of the twins. But, then, she supposed they were all right downstairs. Then she thought of that strange boy--Teddy Ford. She hoped he was all right over at the Flow station.

But what a strangely acting and talking boy he was! Oriole was worried about what he had said in regard to Mr. Langdon. Not for a moment did she believe that Mr. Langdon was not a good and kind man. Of course, there was some mistake. Yet, how earnest that boy had been when he spoke of the ranchman so bitterly.

"I have just got to _know_ about that," Oriole said decidedly. "And there must be some way of straightening out the trouble. Of course Mr. Langdon will be anxious to do something fine for that boy. And--he's--so--handsome----"

Oriole yawned and snuggled down and would have been off to sleep again in a moment had her sharp ear not heard a noise below. It was outside the house. She sat up in the cold room, shivering. It was a step on the porch.

"Now, who can that be coming to the house this time of night?" Oriole asked herself. She was not at all alarmed. There was nothing or nobody to frighten her on Harbor Island, as she very well knew.

"Maybe Mrs. Orr is sick--or the baby," murmured Oriole, slipping out of bed and beginning to pull on a pair of warm stockings and afterward Ma's slippers that the old woman had given her. "Perhaps Payton Orr has come for Ma."

Oriole was interested in the Orr baby, too. She wanted to know if anything was wrong with the family of the substitute lightkeeper.

She hurried into a petticoat and gown, wrapped a fleecy shawl about her, and hastened downstairs. She had heard the person--whoever it was--enter the kitchen. But there was no sound of voices.

"Why! isn't that funny?" murmured Oriole Putnam, and, creeping down the well-carpeted stairs and tiptoeing across the narrow entry, she peered into the warm but dimly lighted kitchen. There was a certain glow from the stove in which there was banked a good fire; but not even a candle was lit.

She could see the figure at the stove, however, quite plainly. Nor was she uncertain in her recognition of it. There stood Teddy Ford, the strange boy who had saved the twins and her from the bay, just putting on his vest. His garments had all been left by Ma Stafford hanging about the stove, and by this time they must have been completely dry.

"Why, Teddy Ford!" gasped Oriole. "What are you doing now?"

"Oh, gee!" ejaculated the strange boy. "Are you up?"

"Well, I'm _down_," said Oriole. "And I guess Uncle Nat and Ma haven't heard you----"

"I didn't mean to wake any of you up," said the boy.

"I just happened to wake up. Then I heard you come in. But what do you mean to do? I thought you were at the Flow station?"

"Yes, I went there. And I helped the cook clean up after supper and he gave me a bunk. But I snuck out when the morning watch was called----"

"'Snuck out!'" gasped Oriole. "That--that's worse than saying 'gee'! I do believe."

"Gee! is it?"

"You _mustn't_ say that so much," Oriole cried. "And what are you trying to do? You can't go away from here like that. I won't let you, Teddy Ford."

She closed the door into the entry so that they should not be heard by Uncle Nat in his room, or by Ma Stafford upstairs. Teddy looked at her curiously, and then grinned again.

"Ain't you a bossy girl?" he inquired. "You can't stop me from going."

"I guess I can stop you if I really try," said Oriole. "I'm pretty strong."

The boy laughed. "Pooh!" he said.

Now, under certain circumstances, there is no verbal sound in the language as aggravating as "Pooh!"

"Don't 'Pooh!' me. I am strong. So now!" Oriole cried quite furiously.

"Needn't get so huffed about it," said Teddy Ford, more mildly. "But girls ain't ever as strong as boys. They can't be."

"I--I don't think you're so awfully polite," announced Oriole. "And girls _are_ strong like boys--sometimes. You just try to get me away from this door!" she challenged.

"Say! I don't fight girls. I was brought up better than that, I hope! Now, you let me go."

"But there is no reason why you should go. We mean well by you," said Oriole, using an old-fashioned expression that she had learned of late. "I am sure Uncle Nat and Ma----"

"Oh, say! I know you folks are all right. But that Harvey Langdon----"

"When Mr. Langdon hears what you did for the twins, he will do _any_thing for you," she emphatically declared.

"That's all you know about it," said Teddy Ford sullenly.

"I guess I know as much about Mr. Langdon as you do!" cried Oriole, with considerable heat.

"I don't believe you do. You know only one side of him--the good side."

"Well!" she challenged, "do you know any more? You say you only know his bad side. Though it doesn't seem to me that the twins' papa can have much of a bad side."

"Gee!"

"I _wish_ you'd stop using that word," complained Oriole again. "And I am sure if you would let him, Mr. Langdon would--would----"

"Gee! Send me to jail, maybe," and this time the boy smiled ruefully.

"Why, Teddy Ford! what have you ever done?" demanded Oriole.

"There _you_ go!" exclaimed the boy. "You're just as quick to believe me in the wrong as the next one," and he started for the door.

But Oriole placed herself before him. She was both earnest and sympathetic. When she seized him by the wrinkled lapels of his jacket, he could not very well throw her off.

"Tell me! Please!" she begged. "Tell me all about it, Teddy Ford. Maybe we can help you. And I am _sure_ Mr. Langdon must feel kindly toward you after what you have done for Myron and Marian."