Silas Strong 18

Silas Strong 18

She longed for the hour to come when she should again see those

wonderful children and the still more wonderful being who had brought

them in his canoe.

 

Next morning she set out early in the trail to Catamount with her little

guide and companion. She had named him Roc, after the famous bird of

Oriental tradition. She arrived there long before the hour appointed.

Slowly she wandered to the trail over which Master and the children

would be sure to come. She approached the camp at Lost River and stood

peering through thickets of young fir, She saw the boy and girl at

play, and watched them. Soon Master came out of one of the cabins. Now,

somehow, she felt a greater fear of him than before, yet she longed to

look into his face--to feel the touch of his hand.

 

The crow had taken his perch in a small tree beside his mistress. He

seemed to be looking thoughtfully at the children, with now and then a

little croak of criticism or of amusement, ending frequently in a sound

like half-suppressed laughter. He raised a foot and slowly scratched his

head, a gaze of meditation deepening in his eyes. Suddenly his interest

seemed to grow keener. He moved a step aside, rose in the air, and

approached the children. Darting to the ground, he picked up a little

silver compass which, one of them had dropped, and quickly returned with

it. The children called to Master, and all three followed the crow. His

mistress, scarcely knowing why, had run up the trail, and Roc pursued

her with foot and wing, croaking urgently, as if his life and spoil

depended on their haste. Reaching a thicket beside the trail, she hid

under its sheltering cover and sat down to rest. The crow, following,

scrambled upon her shoulder and dropped the bit of silver into her lap.

She held his beak to keep him quiet when Master and the children came

near, but as the latter were passing they could hear the smothered

laughter of Roc.

 

In a moment Socky and Sue ran to their new friend, while Master waited

near them. The crow spread his wings and seemed to threaten with a

scolding chatter. The girl threw the bird in the air and took the hands

of the children and drew them to her breast. She held them close and

looked into their faces.

 

"Dear fairies!" said she, impulsively kissing them.

 

"Tell us where the cranes go with--with the young fairies," Sue managed

to say, her hands and voice trembling.

 

Miss Dunmore sat looking down sadly for a little before she answered.

Sue, curiously, felt "the lady's" cheeks that were now rose-red and

beautiful.

 

"I will tell you what my father says," the latter began. "The cranes

take them to Slum-bercity on a great marsh and put them in their nests.

The heads of the young fairies are bald and smooth and the cranes sit on

them as if they were eggs. By-and-by wonderful thoughts and dreams come

into them so that the fairies wake up and begin crying for they are

very hungry. They remember the spring of milk, but they are so young and

helpless they can only reach out their hands and cry for it. Some of the

cranes stand on one leg in the marsh and listen. The moment they hear

the young fairies crying they fly away to find mothers for them. The

unhappy little things are really not fairies any more--they are babies.

Some of the cranes come and dance around the nest to keep them quiet,

and the babies sit up and open their eyes and begin to laugh, it is so

very funny. And that night a big crane sits by the side of each baby and

the baby creeps on his back and rides away to his mother. And he is so

weary after his ride that he sleeps and is scarcely able to move, and

when he wakes and smiles and laughs, he remembers how the cranes danced

in the marsh."

 

Curiously, silently, the children looked into her face, while she, with

wonder equal to their own, put her arms around them.

 

"My father says that there are no people--that we are really nothing but

young fairies asleep and dreaming up in the tops of the trees, and that

the fairy heaven is not here."

 

She gazed into the eyes of the boy a moment, all unconscious of

his mental limitations. Then she added, "You're nothing but a big

fairy--you're so very young."

 

Socky drew away with a look of injury and threw out his chest.

 

"I'm six years old," he answered, with dignity. "In a little while I'll

be a man."

 

Miss Dunmore drew them close to her and said, "I wish I could take you

home with me."

 

"Have you any maple sugar there?" the little girl inquired.

 

"Yes, and a tame fox and a little fawn."

 

"But you'ain't got no Uncle Silas," said the boy, boastfully.

 

"Ner no Aunt Sinth," Sue ventured. Then, with her tiny fingers, she felt

the neck of "the beautiful lady" to see if there were a "mold" on it.

She was thinking of one of the chief attractions of her aunt. In a

moment she added, "Ner no Uncle Robert." They had begun to call him

Uncle Robert.

 

"Is he the man I saw?" the maiden asked.

 

Both children nodded affirmatively.

 

"Do you love him?"

 

"Yes; would you like to take him home with you, too?" Socky asked, with

a look of deep interest. If they were to go he would wish to have his

new uncle with them, and Sue saw the point.

 

"He can carry you on his back and growl jes' like a bear," she urged.

"He can put his mouth on your cheek and make such a funny noise."

 

Miss Dunmore looked away, blushing red. It was a curious kind of

love-making. She whispered in the ear of the little girl, "Would you let

me have him?"

 

Sue looked up into her eyes doubtfully.

 

"She wants our Uncle Robert," Socky guessed aloud.

 

"But not to keep?" Sue questioned, as if it were not to be thought of.

 

The eyes of the children were looking into those of "the beautiful

lady."

 

"I couldn't have him?" the latter asked.

 

"We'll give you our coon," Sue suggested, by way of compromise.

 

"I am sure he--your uncle--would not go with me," Miss Dunmore

suggested.

 

Socky seemed now to think that the time had come for authoritative

information. He broke away and called to his new uncle.

 

The maiden rose quickly, blushing with surprise. She turned away as

Robert Master came in sight, and stood for half a moment looking down.

Then, stooping, she picked a wild flower and timidly offered it. The act

was full of childish simplicity. It spoke for her as her tongue could

not. Knowledge acquired since she saw him last had possibly increased

her shyness.

 

"She wants you," said the boy, with vast innocence, while he looked up

at the young man.

 

"I wish I could believe it were true," said Master, as he came nearer by

a step to the daughter of the woodland.

 

She turned with a look of fear and said, "I must go," as she ran to the

trail, followed by Roc.

 

A little distance away she turned, looking back at the young man.

Something in her eyes told of a soul beneath them lovelier than its

nobly fashioned house. Moreover, they proclaimed the secret which she

would fain have kept.

 

"Shall we shake hands?" he asked.

 

She took a step towards him and stopped.

 

"No," she answered.

 

"I must see you again," said Master, with passionate eagerness, fearing

that she was about to leave.

 

She looked down but made no answer. The children put their arms about

her knees as if to detain her.

 

"You will not forget to come Thursday?" he added.

 

"The beautiful lady" stood looking at him, her left hand upon her chin,

her arms bare to the elbows. A smile, an almost imperceptible nod, and

the eloquence of her eyes were the only answer she gave him, but they

were enough.

 

"Will you not speak to me?" the young man urged, as he came nearer.

 

She stood looking, curiously, until he could almost have touched her.

Then, gently, she pushed the children away and fled up the trail, her

pet following. In a moment she had gone out of sight.

 

She was like the spirit of the woodland--wild, beautiful, silent.

 

 

 

 

XV

 

THERE was a great marsh around a set-back leading off the still water

near Lost River camp. There the children had seen many cranes, and they

did not forget that certain of them had stood upon one leg. After supper

that evening they sat together whispering awhile and presently stole

away. There was a trail for frog-hunters that led to their destination.

They ran, eagerly, and, just as the sun was going down, stopped on a

high bank overlooking the marshes. It was a broad flat covered with

pools and tall grasses and bogs, crowned with leaves of the sweet-flag

and with cattails and pussy-willows. Now it was still and hazy. The

pools were like mirrors with the golden glow of the sky and soft, dark

shadows in them.

 

Far out on the marsh they discovered a crane strolling leisurely among

the bogs, and began to chatter about him.

 

They looked and listened until the sun had gone below the tops of the

trees. Then cranes came flying homeward out of the four skies, and, one

by one, lighted on the edge of a bog some two or three hundred feet