Silas Strong 19

Silas Strong 19

"See the babies! See the babies!" Sue cried out.

 

They squirmed and shivered with awe, their lips and eyes wide with

amazement. In the dim light they imagined that a baby sat on the back

of each crane. Sue had no sooner cried out than there came a flapping

of wings that seemed to fill the sky. The feathered caravan had taken to

the air and were swinging in a wide circle around the edge of the marsh.

They quickly disappeared in the gloom.

 

"Gone to find mothers for 'em," said Socky, in a trembling whisper.

 

The children had suddenly become aware that it was quite dark, but

neither dared speak of it. They still sat looking out upon the marsh and

clinging hand to hand. Soon a procession of grotesque and evil creatures

began to pass them: the great bear of the woods who had swallowed alive

all the little runaways, and who, having made them prisoners, only let

them come out now and then to ride upon his back; the big panther-bird

who lured children from their homes with berries and flowers and nuts

and, maybe, raisins, and who, when they were in some lonely place,

dropped stones upon their heads and slew them; odd, indescribable

shapes, some having long, hairy necks and heads like cocoa-nuts; and,

lastly, came that awful horned creature, with cloven hoofs and the body

of a man, who carried a pitchfork and who, soon or late, flung all the

bad children into a lake of fire. Socky and Sue covered their faces with

their hands. Suddenly a prudent thought entered the mind of the boy.

 

"I'm going to be good," said he, in a loud but timid voice. "I love God

best of every one." His sister gave a little start.

 

In half a moment she suggested, her eyes covered with her hands, "You

don't love God better than Uncle Silas?"

 

Socky hesitated. Prudence and affection struggled for the mastery.

 

"Yes," he managed to say, although with some difficulty. "Don't you?"

 

Sue hesitated.

 

He nudged her and whispered, "Say yes--say it out loud."

 

The word came from Sue in a low, pathetic wail of fear.

 

"I ain't never goin' to tell any more lies," the boy asserted, in a

firm, clear voice, "er swear er run away."

 

They both gave a cry of alarm, for Zeb had sprung upon them and begun to

lick their faces. Their aunt and uncle had missed them and Zeb had led

his master to where they sat.

 

Strong had heard the children choosing between him and their Creator and

understood. Socky and Sue, after the shock of Zeb's sudden arrival, were

encouraged by his presence and began to take counsel together.

 

"We better go home," said Socky.

 

"What if we meet something?"

 

"Pooh! I'll crook my finger to him an' say, 'Sile Strong is my uncle,'"

Socky answered, confidently. "You'll see him run fast enough."

 

It was a formula which his uncle had taught him, and he had tried it

upon a deer and a hedgehog with eminent success.

 

The Emperor had planned to give them a scare by way of punishment,

but now he had no heart for severity. He walked through the bushes

whistling. He said not a word as he knelt before them--indeed, the man

dared not trust himself to speak. With cries of joy they climbed upon

his shoulders and embraced him. Strong rose and slowly carried them

through the dark trail. He could not even answer their questions. He.

was thinking of their faith in him--of their love, the like of which he

had-never known or dreamed of and was not able to understand. Sinth was

out with a lantern when they returned. The children were asleep in his

arms.

 

"Sh-h-h! Don't scold, sister," said he, in a voice so gentle it

surprised himself. They put the children to bed and walked to the

cook-tent. Strong told of all he had heard them say.

 

"I dunno but you'll have to whip 'em," said Sinth.

 

Strong was drying the little boots of the boy. He touched them tenderly

with his great hand. He smiled and shook his head and slowly stammered,

"If we're g-goin't' be g-good'nough t' 's-sociate with them we got t'

wh-whip ourselves."

 

He rose and put a stick of wood on the fire.

 

"Th-they think I'm m-most as good as God," he added, huskily, and then

he went out-ofdoors.

 

Before going to bed that night he made this entry in his

memorandum-book:

 

_"Strong won't do he'll have to be tore down an' built over."_

 

 

 

 

XVI

 

THE Migleys had engaged Strong to take them out of the woods next

day. They were going to the Fourth-of-July celebration at Hillsborough.

Master was going also, be orator of the day. Strong, hearing the talk

of the others, had "got to wishin'," as Sinth put it, and had finally

concluded to go on to Hillsborough and witness the celebration. So

Master had sent for his guide to come and stay at Lost River camp until

the return of Silas.

 

The Emperor was getting ready to go. Some one had told him that a man

at Hillsborough was buying coons and foxes for the zoological gardens

in New York. He considered whether he had better take his young pet coon

with him. In that hour of expanding generosity when he had broken his

bank, as the saying goes, he had forgotten his new responsibilities.

There were the children, and that necessity which often awoke him at

night and whispered of impending evil--he must leave his old home and

find a new one somewhere in the forest. The little people would need

boots and dresses, and why shouldn't they have a rocking-horse or some

cheering toy of that character? Such reflections began to change--to

amend, as it were--his view of money.

 

Furthermore, Sinth had no respect for coons. Ever since the Emperor had

captured him, much of her ill-nature had been focussed upon the coon.

 

"W-woods g-goin'," he mused, as he fed the little creature. "W-we got t'

git t-tame."

 

"You better take him along," said Sinth, as she came out of the

cook-tent. "Jim Warner got ten dollars for a coon down to Canton las'

summer."

 

"C-come on, Dick," said the hunter, with some regret in his tone as he

fastened the coon's cage upon his basket.

 

Strong looped a cord through the wire and the buckles of both

shoulder-braces. Master had taken the river route, and would drive

to Hillsborough from Tupper's. Strong and the Migleys were going out

through Pitkin. The "sports" had been on their way for more than half an

hour. Strong put his arms in the straps and followed them. He turned in

the trail and called back:

 

"B-better times!" he shouted. It was a cheerful sentiment which he often

expressed in moments of parting with Sinth.

 

"Don't believe it," Sinth answered.

 

"You s-see," he insisted, and then he disappeared in the timber.

 

As the travellers went on, the Migleys exhibited increasing respect

for the law of gravitation. They gave their coats to the Emperor,

who studiously kept as far ahead or behind them as possible to avoid

conversation. He was "tongue weary," and told them so.

 

Late in the afternoon they came to a new lumber-camp. "The Warren job"

had pushed its front across the old trail. What desolation had fallen

where Strong passed, two weeks before, in the shadow of the primeval

wood! Its green roof lay in scraggled, withering heaps; the under

thickets had been cut away; the ferns lay flat, blackening on the

sunburned soil. An old skeleton of pine lifted its broken arms high

above the scene of desolation, and one could hear its bones creak and

rattle in the breezy heavens.

 

Great shafts of spruce and pine were being sawed into even lengths and

hauled to a skidway. Busy men looked small as ants in the edge of the

high forest. Some swayed in pairs, "pulling the briar," as woodsmen say

of those who work with a saw.

 

Strong and the Migleys halted to watch the downfall of a great pine.

Soon the sawyers put their wedge in the slit and smote upon it. The

sheet of steel hissed back and forth. Then a few blows of the axe. The

men gave a shout of warning and drew aside. The great tree began to

creak and tremble. Slowly it bent and groaned; its long arms seemed

to clutch at the air. Then it pitched headlong, its top whistling, its

heavy stem shaking the ground upon which it fell. A voice of thunder

seemed to proclaim its fate. The axemen lopped off its branches, and

soon the long column lay stark, and the growth of two centuries had come

to its end. Strong and his companions stood a moment longer watching the

scene.

 

"Huh!" the Emperor grunted, with a sorry look as they passed on.

 

Near sundown they came into the cleared land--the sandy, God-forsaken

barrens of Tifton, robbed of root and branch and soil, of their glory,

and the one crop nature had designed for them. The travellers passed a

deserted cabin on a hot, stony hill. In its door-yard they could see a

plough and an old wagon partly overgrown with weeds. Some one had tried

to live on the spoiled earth and had come to discouragement. Where ten

thousand men could have found healing and refreshment there was

not enough growing to feed a dozen sheep. Here a part of the great

inheritance of man had been forever ruined. Strong spoke of the pity of

it.

 

"Can't be helped," said the elder Migley. "A man has a right to cut and sell his timber."