Hildegarde's Neighbors
Page 18
CHAPTER XV.
A MORNING HOUR.
It is morning in the Lonely Cove. Before and around lies a broadstretch of glimmering water, dotted here and there with greatstumps, and lined about the shore with dead trees. Dams built inthe river beyond have raised the level of the lake, and hundredsof trees have died.
On every side is a network of gnarled and knotted roots. The blacklimbs grapple with each other; here one has dragged his neighbourover, and he lies with arms outstretched, writhen into antictwists and curves, as if he had died in torment; there, insingular contrast, are two friends,--oaks, were they once?--whohave fallen into one another's arms, and, dead, seem still toembrace and uphold each other tenderly.
Here again are stumps that gleam like gray silver, bare andpolished, worn by storms and winds. The shining water is clear,and one sees the bottom covered with particles of wood, chippedfrom the rotting trees, preserved by the water from further decay.
Through this silent water glides the Cheemaun, Hilda in the bow--where is Hilda so happy as in the birch canoe?--Roger paddling inthe stern. As the paddle dips, bubbles rise and burst, large andround. Behind, the dark woods curve in a lovely line; between woodand water, spread like a bed for the dead and dying trees, aswamp, bright with rushes and water-weed.
On the crest of a snow-white birch sits a great fish-hawk, withbent head and closed wings. What is the hunter dreaming of? Hoursof sport, most likely; long pauses on balanced wings, the arrowydownward sweep, the swift plunge, and the triumph of the upwardplunge, dripping and proud, bearing his prey aloft.
Some real or fancied noise disturbs the vision; he rises, spreadsthe wide, hollow wings, and flaps slowly away. Roused by hisflight, half a dozen crows burst suddenly into talk, and protestviolently against some deadly injury, then as suddenly fall silentagain.
Whirr! a kingfisher darts down with a quick splash, and back tohis bough with a fish in his beak. The canoe moves on, slowly,noiselessly; here the water is only three inches deep, but thesoft bottom yields as the strong young arms ply the paddle.
Hilda lifts her hand with a warning gesture, and they aremotionless once more. Look! not fifty yards away, a group ofpretty birds play and paddle in the shallow water. Sandpipers, arethey? They might be enchanted princesses, Hilda thinks, as they gomincing along, turning their heads now to this side, now to that,admiring themselves in the clear water. One of them finds a bit ofsucculent weed, and the others come running, for all the worldlike curious girls, ruffling their pretty feathers, cocking theirpretty heads; and they peck, and chatter, and peck again, whollyunconscious of the two monsters who are drifting nearer andnearer. Suddenly one of them catches sight of a moving shadow,hears some faint lapping of water against the side of the canoe,inaudible to ears less fine; and the three princesses are up andaway, fluttering, hopping, fairly flying at last, to hidethemselves in the deeps of the bog-land.
Neither of the two had spoken during all this time. Both felt themagic of the place so strong upon them that speech seemedprofanation. The flight of the little birds, however, loosened thespell. Hildegarde spoke, but softly, almost under her breath."Captain! Do you see the lizard? Look at him, on the log there!The greenness of him! soul of an emerald!"
"I was looking at the fish," said Roger.
"What for a fish?" Hilda leaned over the side, and looked into theclear shallow water. A bream was hovering over her wide, shallownest, fanning the water slowly with wide-spread wings. "Why doesshe do that?"
"To protect the eggs; they are there in the sand, and she iskeeping off all the water-people who like eggs for breakfast."
They drifted on again in silence: what was there good enough tosay in such a place?
Hildegarde pulled the transparent stems of jewel-weed, with theirglowing, pitcher-shaped blossoms, and twined them into a garland,which she hung over the bow of the canoe. "Dear Cheemaun!" shesaid. "She shall be decorated as Hiawatha's was. She deserves tobe hung with real jewels."
"Are there any more real than these?" said Roger. "And--you reallylike the Cheemaun, do you, Miss Hilda? and the place? I thoughtyou would like the place."
"Oh!" said Hilda, and her voice said enough. "How did you find it?How strange that I have never heard of it before! There is nothingso beautiful in the world, I am sure! Have the others been here?"
"N--no," answered Roger, slowly. "I don't think they have beenhere. I--I found it one morning, when I was shooting, two or threeyears ago; and I am afraid I have been greedy, and kept it tomyself."
"How good of you to bring me!" cried Hilda. "I like it all thebetter because no one--that is, because it is so lonely and still.You--you don't shoot now much, do you, Captain Roger?"
"No. I used to be very fond of it when I was a boy; but now, well,I would rather see them alive, don't you know?"
Hildegarde nodded her wise little head, and knew very well indeed,and thought the Captain was very right.
"I do not see how a sportsman can really love creatures," shesaid. "If you love them, you want them to live, as you say. Oh!oh, Captain Roger, please quickly stop! Look! What wonder isthis?"
Hilda's voice sank to a whisper, thrilled with excitement. There,a few yards away from them, ashen grey against the silver-grey ofa dead tree, was a great bird. To Hilda's excited fancy, it seemedthe spirit of the place, changed by some wizardry into bird form,crouching there amid the ruins of the forest where once it hadflitted and frolicked, a gauze-winged sprite.
Roger, less imaginative, and more skilled in wood-lore, saw agreat blue heron, sitting huddled together on a stump, its headdrawn in, its yellow eyes glaring wild with fright.
"It must be wounded!" he said softly. "Keep very still, and I willsee if we can come nearer."
Softly, slowly, the birch canoe stole through the water. Itscarcely seemed to move, yet every moment brought them nearer tothe wild creature of the woods. It made no attempt to fly, onlycrouched lower, and tried to flatten itself against the stump.
"Oh, poor, poor thing!" whispered Hilda. "Can you do anything forit, Captain Roger?"
"Only one thing, I fear," said Roger, gently. "Its leg is broken,and we must not leave it in misery."
"You must kill it? Oh, it seems too pitiful! No, I am not going tobe silly, only I will turn my head away, please, Captain Roger."
Now she could have put her hand on the wounded bird, as it satmotionless, only the wide eyes of terror telling that it wasalive. The bow of the boat passed close against the log, and onbeyond. Hilda thought she should never forget the dumb agony ofthose eyes. They should not be here at all, she thought. It wasnot decent for human beings to thrust themselves into the sorrowsand mysteries of the woods and water. She could not--
Roger leaned forward, paddle in hand; a moment, and all was over.Something slid into the water, and there was a little plashingmurmur among the reeds; then stillness again.
The canoe began to move backward, and Hilda opened her eyes, whichhad been tightly closed. Neither of the two spoke until they werein open water again, and the swamp left behind.
"I am sorry!" said Roger then, almost apologetically. "I am sorrythat happened. The poor creature had been shot, and was badlywounded; it would only have lingered in pain."
"Oh yes, I know; I am so glad you were there, to help it out ofthe suffering."
"But now you will never want to come here again, I fear."
"Oh, but I shall!" cried Hilda. "I am not so silly as that, trulyI am not. I shall always think of this as the loveliest place Iknow; and--"
"Well, and--what?" asked Roger.
"Oh, nothing! Only--well, it is your own place," said Hildafrankly, "and I shall always think of you here, in the dearCheemaun, with the enchanted princesses--I mean the sandpipers--and the fish-hawk, and all the rest of it."
"If it is mine, I may do what I like with it, and I give it toyou. Will you have it?"
"Oh, we will share it together!" cried Hilda eagerly; and thenbethought herself, and blushed in her usual ridiculous way, andwondered i
f the back of her neck were blushing too. It was, andRoger saw the crimson mounting to the pretty ears and losingitself in the fair hair; and he wondered--and wondered again, andthen remembered that people sometimes blushed when they wereangry. He was a very, very stupid Roger, in some ways; but in amoment Hilda began to talk as cheerfully as possible, and to askabout all the birds they had seen, so Roger was relieved, and theypaddled home to breakfast in a very pleasant way.