sitdown to dinner till past two o'clock, having had a long morning, no partof which had been lost in cooking.
Watching for Charlie in the afternoon, they reclined on the cliff underthe oak, resting, and talking but little. The light of the sun wasoften intercepted, not entirely shut off, but intercepted by thin whiteclouds slowly drifting over, which like branches held back so much ofthe rays that the sun could occasionally be looked at. Then he came outagain and lit up the waters in gleaming splendour. There was enoughripple to prevent them from seeing any basking fish, but the shifting,uncertain air was not enough to be called a breeze.
Lying at full length inside the shadow of the oak, Bevis gazed up at theclouds, which were at an immense height, and drifted so slowly as toscarcely seem to move, only he saw that they did because he had a fixedpoint in the edge of the oak boughs. So thin and delicate was thetexture of the white sky-lace above him that the threads scarcely hidthe blue which the eye knew was behind and above it. It was warmwithout the pressure of heat, soft, luxurious; the summer like themreclined, resting in the fulness of the time.
The summer rested before it went on to autumn. Already the tips of thereeds were brown, the leaves of the birch were specked, and some of thewillows dropped yellow ovals on the water; the acorns were bulging intheir cups, the haws showed among the hawthorn as their green turnedred; there was a gloss on the blue sloes among the "wait-a-bit"blackthorns, red threads appeared in the moss of the canker-roses on thebriars. A sense of rest, the rest not of weariness, but of full growth,was in the atmosphere; tree, plant, and grassy things had reached theirfulness and strength.
The summer shadow lingered on the dial, the sun slowed his pace, pausingon his way, in the rich light the fruits filled. The earth had listenedto the chorus of the birds, and as they ceased gave them their meed ofberry, seed, and grain. There was no labour for them; their granarieswere full. Ethereal gold floated about the hills, filling their hollowsto the brim with haze. Like a grape the air was ripe and luscious, andto breathe it was a drowsy joy. For Circe had smoothed her garment andslumbered, and the very sun moved slow.
They remained idle under the oak for some time after Charlie had madethe usual signal; but when the shadow of the wood came out over thebrambles towards the fence Mark reloaded the matchlock, and they wentinto ambush by Kangaroo Hill among the hazel bushes this time on theopposite side. The hazel bushes seemed quite vacant, only one birdpassed while they were there, and that was a robin, come to see whatthey were doing and if there was anything for him. In the butchery ofthe Wars of the Roses, that such flowers should be stained with suchmemories! it is certain as the murderers watched the robin perched hardby. He listened to the voice of fair Rosamond; he was at the tryst whenAmy Robsart met her lover. Nothing happens in the fields and woodswithout a robin.
Mark had a shot at last at a kangaroo, but though Pan raced his hardestit escaped into the bury. It was of no use to wait any longer, so theywalked very slowly round the island, waiting behind every bush, andlooking out over the water. There was nothing till, as they returnedthe other side, they saw the parrots approach and descend into theivy-grown oak. Bevis held Pan while Mark crept forward from tree-trunkto tree-trunk till he was near enough, when he put the heavy barrelagainst a tree, in the same way Bevis had done. His aim was true, andthe parrot fell.
It had been agreed that Bevis should have the gun at night, for hewished to go on the mainland and see if he could shoot anything in theWaste, but still unsatisfied Mark wanted yet another shot. The thirstof the chase was on him; he could not desist. Since there was nothingelse he fired at and killed a thrush they found perched on the top ofthe stockade. Mark put down the gun with a sigh that his shooting wasover.
Bevis waited till it was full moonlight, putting down a few things inhis journal, while Mark skinned three of his finest perch, which hemeant to have for supper. To be obliged to cook was one thing, to cookjust for the pleasure of the taste was a different thing. He skinnedthem because he knew the extreme difficulty of scraping the thicksethard scales. Presently Bevis loaded the gun; he was going to do so withball, when Mark pointed out that he could not be certain of a perfectlyaccurate aim by moonlight. This was true, so he reluctantly put shot.Mark's one desire was to fetch down his game; Bevis wished to kill withthe precision of a single bullet.
They poled the raft ashore, and both landed, but Mark stayed among thebramble thickets holding Pan, while Bevis went out into the Waste. Hedid not mean to stay in ambush long anywhere, but to try and get a shotfrom behind the bushes. Crouching in the brambles, Mark soon lost sightof him, so soon that he seemed to have vanished; the ant-hills, the tallthistles, and the hawthorns concealed him.
Bevis stepped noiselessly round the green ant-hills, sometimes startlinga lark, till, when he looked back, he scarcely knew which way he hadcome. In a meadow or a cornfield the smooth surface lets the glancetravel at once to the opposite hedge, and the shape of the enclosure orone at least of its boundaries is seen, so that the position isunderstood. But here the ant-hills and the rush-bunches, the thicketsof thistles and brambles gave the ground an uneven surface, and thehawthorn-trees hid the outline.
There was no outline; it was a dim uncertain expanse with shadows, and agrey mist rising here and there, and slight rustlings as pads pressedthe sward, or wings rose from roost. Once he fancied he saw a lightupon the ground not so far off; he moved that way, but the thistles orbushes hid it. A silent owl startled him as it slipped past; he stampedhis foot with anger that he should have been startled. Twice he caughta glimpse of white tails, but he could not shoot running with thematchlock.
Incessantly winding round and round the ant-hills, he did not know whichway he was going, except that he tried to keep the moon a little on hisleft hand, thinking he could shoot better with the light like that.After some time he reached a boulder, another one not so large as thatthey had examined together; this was about as high as his chest.
He leaned against it and looked over; there was a green waggon track theother side, which wound out from the bushes, and again disappeared amongthem. Though he knew that Mark could not be far, and that a whistlewould bring him, he felt utterly alone. It was wilder than the island--the desolate thistles, the waste of rushes, the thorns, the untouchedland which the ants possessed and not man, the cold grey boulder, thedots of mist here and there, and the pale light of the moon. Somethingof the mystery of the ancient days hovers at night over these untilledplaces. He leaned against the stone and looked for the flicker of lightwhich he had seen, and supposed must be a will-o'-the-wisp, but he didnot see it again.
Suddenly something came round the corner of the smooth green waggontrack, and he knew in an instant by the peculiar amble that it was ahare. The long barrel of the matchlock was cautiously placed on thestone, and he aimed as well as he could, for when looked at along abarrel objects have a singular way of disappearing at night. Then hepaused, for the hare still came on. Hares seem to see little in front;their eyes sweep each side, but straight ahead they are blind till theair brings them the scent they dread.
All at once the hare sat up--he had sniffed Bevis, and the same minutethe flash rushed from the muzzle. Bevis ran directly and found the harestruggling; almost as soon as he had lifted him up Pan was there. ThenMark came leaping from ant-hill to ant-hill, and crushing through thethistles in his haste. As Mark had come direct from the shore he knewthe general direction, and they hurried back to the raft, fearing someof the savages might come to see who was shooting on the mainland. Onceon the island, as the perch were cooking, the game was spread out on thetable--three moorhens, a coot, a dab-chick, a wood-pigeon, a hare, andthe jack Mark had caught.
Of all the hare, or rather leveret, for it was a young one, was thefinest. His black-tipped ears, his clean pads, his fur--every separatehair with three shades of colour--it was a pleasure to smooth his furdown with the hand.
"This is the jolliest day we've had," said Mark. "All shooting andkilling and
real hunting--real island--and no work and no cooking,except just what we like. It's splendid."
"If only Val and Cecil could see," said Bevis, handling the ears of hishare for the twentieth time. "Won't they go on when we tell them?"
"Don't talk about that," said Mark; "don't say anything about goinghome; that's the Other Side, you know."
"So it is. No, we won't say anything about it. Isn't he a beauty!"
"A real beauty," said Mark. "Now let's see how we can shoot a lot moreto-morrow; it's your turn; will you let me shoot once?"
"Of course; twice."
"Hurrah! First let's get up very early and see if a kangaroo is out;then let's go round Serendib; and, I say, let's go nearly up to SweetRiver Falls--not quite, not near enough for the savages--and, I say!there must be heaps of things in all those sedges we tried to
Bevis: The Story of a Boy Page 79
