The Hen Of Wun Sing

: Dorothy On A Ranch

But whatever wild schemes were hatching in the heads of the three lads

nothing seemed to come of them.



Days followed one another in such peaceful routine that Dorothy felt

ashamed of her fears, as well as ashamed of her composure regarding Jim

Barlow. The longer he was absent the less they spoke of him. That he was

alive, somewhere, all were sure, and that he would return sometime or

"when he gets good an ready," as Alfaretta coolly observed.



"He seemed like a very odd chap, the little I saw of him," said Leslie,

and did not regret the stranger's absence.



Herbert was loyal and insisted that "Jim was a royal chap--once he shook

off his awkward shyness a bit. Why, the yarns Jim Barlow could spin

about woodsy things and habits of wild creatures would make you sit

right up and take notice. Oh, Jim's all right--only bashful."



"That's so. Why, that fellow, don't you know, that fellow really plans

to go sometime, to Africa, or some other place and live with monkeys

just to hear them talk. He--"



"He might have stayed right here with us--or you, Monty dear," said

Molly, sweetly.



Monty merely frowned at her but continued:



"There is a man did that. True. Went into the woods and lived in a

cage--"



"All that trouble and expense for nothing," again remarked Molly; and

this time Monty changed the subject, asking:



"Have you heard about Wun Sing and his hen?"



"Oh! never mind hens. What do you say, folks? Suppose we get old Lem to

go with us into the mountains yonder and look for Jim?" said Herbert.



"You needn't do that. You'd not find him. He's hidden himself on

purpose, I believe, and only sent back Netty to let us know he was alive

and well. Even Molly thinks that," said Helena; "and I, for one don't

care to hunt up boys who don't want to be found. I think Jim's shyness

is at the bottom of the matter. It's kindness to let him alone and--"



Dolly looked serious and shook her head while Monty again demanded:



"Have you heard about Wun Sing's hen?"



"I wonder what he's going to give us for supper! I'm nearly starved.

There never was such a place for appetites--eating doesn't stop that

hollow, all-gone feeling a bit!" calmly stated Alfy, with a tragic air.



"Alfy, you little pig! It isn't more than an hour since we finished

dinner," reproved Molly, laughing.



"Well, I can't help that. I wish 'twas supper-time. Let's go in the

kitchen and ask for a piece--like the children home do, bless 'em!"



"I say, you better not! Wun Sing's hen--"



"Monty--quit! Let's all go ask for a 'piece'!" cried Leslie, throwing

his arm around the "fat boy's" shoulder and forcing him along with the

others.



Herbert pulled out a jew's-harp--procured nobody knew where--and headed

the procession with a vain attempt to render "Yankee Doodle" so that it

could be recognized for itself. Then all fell into line, with the

laughter and nonsense natural to a company of care free "youngsters" as

they were now known all over the premises.



But as they passed a room just beyond Leslie's own, he poked his head

through the window, to demand of Mateo, lying within:



"Any better, boy?"



"Gracias, Senor Leslie. Much better. Only, the hen of Wun Sing; the

omelette--Ah! I suffer, si. I groan--I am on fire. The heathen

creature and his foul fowl!"



"What's the matter, Les? Is that your pert valet laid up in yon? What's

up?"



"Rather--what's down? The boy hasn't been well, or says he hasn't these

three days. That's why I had to put off the bear--"



"Mum! Dorothy's just behind us and she has ears all round her head! But

we'll do it, yet; either with or without him. It'll be rippin' fun, but

if that girl gets wind of it she'll stop it, sure."



"I wonder if we'll see Wun Sing's hen!" said Monty again.



"Stark! I tell you if you mention that fowl again I'll stuff her down

your throat!" cried Herbert, dropping his jew's-harp and engaging with

Monty. But the latter was round and easily slipped through Bert's

fingers, and the scrimmage was playful, anyway.



Resuming their march they entered the great kitchen, now wholly deserted

save by the Chinaman, who cowered in a corner, praying lustily to his

honorable forefathers and burning some sort of stuff before a little

image on the floor beside him. Like a good many others of his race, Wun

Sing was "good Chlistian" when it suited him to be, but a much better

devotee of his ancient gods when real trouble overtook him.



Wun Sing was in trouble now. Bottomless trouble, he feared, and so

wholly engaged in his devotions that he didn't take any notice of the

noisy youngsters foraging his stores. Until, from the corner of his

eye, he saw Alfy poking into a little wall-cupboard that was his own

property and used to shelter his dearest treasures.



"No, no, Missee Alfaletta! No, no. Wun Sing's chalm no wolkee if lill

gels meddle!"



He rose from his prostration on the floor and fairly flew to the girl's

side, pushing her hand aside from the key she had almost turned, his

whole manner expressing great agitation.



Of course, she desisted at once, even apologized for her action, but her

old co-worker in Mrs. Calvert's kitchen begged pardon in his own turn

and after his foreign fashion. In his broken English he eagerly

explained that he and his belongings had been bewitched.



His hen--the so beloved hen of Wun Sing, that he had brought from far

away California, along with some garden seeds and roots, the hen had

been entered by an evil spirit and the days of Wun Sing were numbered.

Already he felt the dread sickness stealing over him, as it had already

stolen upon his old neighbor of San Diego--the so afflicted Mateo. He

had been praying and offering gifts to his little clay god but so far

no good had come. Within the cupboard on the wall he had placed a

"charm"--a terrible charm, in his opinion and if that failed not only

he but all at San Leon were doomed. Would that he had never heard of

the place, even for the extra big wages the rich owner had offered.

He--



When he had reached this point, Alfy shook him demanding:



"What makes you such a fool, Wunny? That little old image on the floor

is enough to make you sick, course, it's so filthy dirty. I hope you'll

scrub your hands good with soap before you touch any food for other

folks to eat. What's the matter with the hen, anyway?"



Having put this question, Alfaretta walked to the sink and turned the

spigot over her own hand, which suddenly felt soiled by contact with the

Chinaman's shoulder. Then she remarked:



"We're all hungry. Tell us where we can find something to eat."



The cook shook his head and Alfy foraged for herself: presently securing

from the pantry a box of crackers and a jar of cheese. Armed with these

refreshments she felt she would be sustained until the regular supper

time, and invited her mates to accompany her on a visit to this

wonderful hen whose name was in everybody's mouth.



Wun Sing protested; but when they were determined, he tremblingly

presented each of the youngsters with a bit of red paper, inscribed in

black with a few Chinese characters. Laughingly, they pinned these on

and so protected from "evil chalms" sought the little wire enclosure

which the Chinaman had made for his petted fowl, upon his first coming

to San Leon.



The hen had been the gift of his opulent kinsman, Der Doo, and was far

too precious to its new owner to be allowed with the other poultry. It

had lived in state within its little wire-covered yard, supplied with

fresh grass each day and fattening upon the best of food. For its night

accommodation, Wun Sing had constructed a tiny pagoda-like house

imitating a temple of his native land. Here the pampered fowl slept

luxuriously, and for a time had been the delight of its owner's eyes.



"Let's sit down on the grass and watch it awhile. We can eat our

crackers here, first rate, 'cause if we get thirsty we can drink out of

the spigot o' running water that cooky has fixed for the hen," suggested

Alfy.



So they ranged themselves in a semi-circle, with the crackers and cheese

in the centre and awaited developments.



"Cock-a-doodle-doo!" crowed Herbert, in excellent imitation of a

rooster.



"Oh! hush! Hens don't do that; they just

say--cut-cut-cut-cut--cut-tarket!" corrected Molly.



Immediately the rest took up the mocking cries, to the evident distress

of poor Wun Sing, who stood in the background, his face yellower than

common and his hands clasping and unclasping nervously.



But neither cat-calls, crowings, nor cacklings, coaxed the invisible

fowl from her palace-like retreat. So, soon tiring of this, they fell to

talking of other things and forgot the creature; till, suddenly, from

within the temple came a crow that beat even Herbert's noisy ones. It

was so loud and so sudden, and was so closely followed by a jubilant

cackle, that all of them were a trifle startled while Wun Sing threw

himself down in real terror.



The cackling continued a longer time than is usual and ended in another

masculine crow. Then there solemnly stalked into the little yard a very

handsome fowl, of the Plymouth Rock species, who strutted about as if

she were the queen of all hens.



"Huh! Nothing the matter with that biddy, Wun Sing! I wish 't Ma Babcock

had her in our hennery, up-mounting. What's wrong with her, you think,

Wunny?"



"Missee Alfletta--eggs!"



"Well, what's a hen's business in life but to lay eggs?" demanded

Herbert, laughing at the Chinaman's curious expression.



Then it came out. That hen did lay eggs--such eggs! She was a big hen

and her eggs so small, and so many! Ah! she was bewitched. She was

bewitching Wun Sing. She had already bewitched Mateo, yes. It began the

very day the master left. On that sorrowful, august occasion that pent

up, solitary fowl deposited two eggs in her softly lined nest.



"That might be. Ma's hens do that, sometimes, good breeds," said Alfy,

in answer to the Chinaman's impressive statement.



With all this company of doubters around him Wun Sing felt secure enough

to go on and state that on the day following there had been four eggs!

Then one--then again seven--the mystic number. Latterly there had been

eight, nine, as high as ten! All in one twenty-four hours! Could a fowl,

free from an evil spirit, so conduct itself? No. No, indeed. Wun Sing

knew what he knew. Disaster was coming. There was trouble on the wing.

It would light upon San Leon. They were doomed--doomed--doomed!



"I don't believe it!" declared Leslie. "But a hen of that character

ought to crow as well as cackle. How much'll you take for her, cooky?

I'll buy and start a hennery to stump the world. Anybody want to go in

with me on this deal? San Leon Chinese Poultry--Warranted to Make

Possessors Rich! The Egg Trust of San Leon! I say, boys, the thing's

just rippin'!"



"Undo that little gate, Wunny. I'm going in to collect the eggs. Come

on, Alfy, or anybody," cried Dorothy, laughing. "That empty cracker box

to hold them in. By the way, Wunny, when did you empty the nest?"



He assured her that he had done so the last thing before retiring on the

night before. He had already taken two from it this day. Now by the

cackle--there must be--Ah! he finished his speech with a wild flourish

of his hands, then put them before his eyes to shield them from an

uncanny sight.



Those outside the little poultry yard waited in curiosity for the others

to come back. The two girls within it had their heads close together

peering into the hen-temple, while Monty had squeezed his plump body

through its little door with the cracker box in hand.



"Oh! I say, come out of there! How many have you found?" called Herbert.

"Hurry up! Nell and Molly are getting scared. Fact!"



"I'm not," denied Molly, but Helena said nothing. It was absurd, but she

was actually catching some of the Chinaman's nervousness over this most

uncanny fowl. And a moment later, she was relieved to see the

egg-hunters turn around and Monty emerge from that "heathen temple," the

cracker box held tightly in his hand. He carried it as if it were heavy

and his face was almost as solemn as the Chinaman's. The box contained

eleven eggs!



Wun Sing gave one glance and fled, and trying to take the box into his

own hands, Leslie dropped it--with the natural result.



"Well, they may be bewitched eggs but they can break 'allee samee!' I'm

sorry, Wun Sing, but I'll pay for them! And say, did anybody ever hear

of such a thing before?" asked Leslie, astonished.



Nobody had; and seeing Dr. Jones crossing the grounds at a little

distance they ran to him with the marvellous tale. He listened

attentively and even walked back with them to see the hen for himself.

His decision put bewitchment out of the question.



"The bird is a freak of nature. I have read of such before, but they are

rare. Either that--or--are you quite sure that no practical joke has

been played by any of the boys--or by yourselves?"



His keen study of their faces revealed nothing mischievous on any. They

were all as honestly surprised as himself, and he then made a close

inspection of the little place. The pagoda stood exactly in the centre

of the yard, so far from the wire-netting on every side that no arm

would be long enough to reach it and drop eggs into the nest at the

back. Wun Sing always kept the key of the Chinese padlock on the wire

gate and entrance through it without his consent could not be made.



"It doesn't look like a hoax, and it's not to be wondered at that the

Chinaman was scared. We all are--at the unusual and unexplainable. But

this is simple. It is a freak of nature and the hen will probably die

soon, of exhaustion."



The Doctor walked away and Molly made a funny little face behind his

back.



"I call that real mean, to take the mystery out of it in that way! I've

been getting delightfully goose-fleshy and creepy, just to find the

spook is nothing but a silly old hen that's outdone herself. I hate to

be disappointed like that. I wish something would happen, real

hair-raising, as Indians, or bears, or even a few catamounts!"



"If they did, I'd like to be on the spot. I bet you, Molly Breckenridge,

you'd run faster than anybody if those things did happen," teased Monty.



Saying that, he exchanged an odd glance with Leslie, who nodded and

said:



"Come along, boys, let's visit Mateo in a body. Force of numbers you

know. He lays it to eggs--Wunny's bewitched eggs, but I lay it to

cowardice. There's nothing the matter with my valiant valet but

downright scare. After proposing the thing, too, and being the best

figure of all to do it. Ta, ta, ladies! We shall meet again--at feeding

time. Eh, Alfy? I mean Miss Babcock!"



"Huh! Don't you think I didn't notice 't you ate more 'n anybody else of

the crackers and cheese. Good-by!"



They separated, the girls to their own rooms to freshen themselves for

the evening and for a long talk over the delights of this wonderful

summer; yet in all their happiness, a deep regret was in their warm

hearts for Jim Barlow's absence and the wish that they might know where

he was and that he was well.



The lads sought Mateo in his room, and though the valet pretended

slumber he was promptly roused by the energetic attentions of his

visitors.



"Look here, Mateo, we know you're shamming. The fact is that after

getting us all wrought up to this bear business and agreeing to take the

chief part, you're afraid. Either you think the 'boys'll' get lively

with their shooting-irons and hunt the bear too well, or else--I don't

know what else. Only this, you can't pretend to be hoodooed or

'bewitched' with any of Wun Sing's omelettes. That's all up. The

doctor's taken a hand in that and I know it isn't indigestion you're

bewitched with--it's plain sneak. Now, boy, get up!"



After Leslie's long speech, that ended in the terse command, Mateo

raised himself on elbow and protested:



"But it is of the illness, I, senor, en verdad. The omelette of Wun

Sing--"



"May have been a little too rich for you, Matty lad, but don't worry.

That wonderful fowl has shortened her life by her own ambition. I

suppose she had a certain number of eggs to lay during her earthly

career and she concluded to get the job over with. She's an all right

Chinee hen, but she's the one that'll die, not you nor Wunny Sing.

Doctor Jones said so. We've interviewed him on the subject. Doctors know

a lot. So, be decent! Get up and practise a bit."



Thus adjured by Herbert, for whom the valet had a great admiration,

Mateo threw off the light covers and rose to his feet--fully dressed. He

had only lain down, professing himself ill, whenever there was danger of

his young master appearing.



With a swift change of front, he now fell in with the lads' notions, and

thereafter followed an hour of "practice," accompanied by curious sounds

and growlings. All this behind locked door and tightly shuttered

windows--something almost unknown at peaceful San Leon.



At supper time there was a subdued air of mystery about the three lads,

which Dorothy noticed, if none of the other girls did. Also, they were

so extremely courteous and thoughtful that it was rather overdone.

However, politeness was agreeable, and there followed the happiest

evening the young guests had spent since the departure of Gray Lady for

the east.



The fading moonlight was now supplemented by the electric lights, making

the wide lawns brilliant as day, save where the deep shadows fell, black

in contrast. At midnight, Dorothy awoke. Something had startled her and

she sat up in bed, shivering in fear. How queer! she thought and peered

through the window as if expecting some unwelcome sight. There was

nothing unusual visible and, except for a curious creeping sound, as of

some large body moving stealthily on the veranda floor, nothing to

hear.



Strange that brave Dorothy's heart should beat so fast and she turn so

cold. She wished Alfy would awake. She wanted to hear somebody speak.

Then she scorned herself for her foolishness, wondering if she, too, had

caught the Chinaman's terror of "bewitchment." Oh! this was horrid! Alfy

would go right to sleep again, even if she were awakened, and she must,

she must hear somebody human!



She opened her trembling lips to call: "Alfy! Alfy dear, please wake

up!"



But the words were never uttered. Something had come into view at her

open window which froze them on her lips.