_One_
DREAMS
Night fell. The red waters of the swamp grew sinister and sullen. Thetall pines lost their slimness and stood in wide blurred blotches allacross the way, and a great shadowy bird arose, wheeled and melted,murmuring, into the black-green sky.
The boy wearily dropped his heavy bundle and stood still, listening asthe voice of crickets split the shadows and made the silence audible. Atear wandered down his brown cheek. They were at supper now, hewhispered--the father and old mother, away back yonder beyond the night.They were far away; they would never be as near as once they had been,for he had stepped into the world. And the cat and Old Billy--ah, butthe world was a lonely thing, so wide and tall and empty! And so bare,so bitter bare! Somehow he had never dreamed of the world as lonelybefore; he had fared forth to beckoning hands and luring, and to theeager hum of human voices, as of some great, swelling music.
Yet now he was alone; the empty night was closing all about him here ina strange land, and he was afraid. The bundle with his earthly treasurehad hung heavy and heavier on his shoulder; his little horde of moneywas tightly wadded in his sock, and the school lay hidden somewhere faraway in the shadows. He wondered how far it was; he looked and harkened,starting at his own heartbeats, and fearing more and more the long darkfingers of the night.
Then of a sudden up from the darkness came music. It was human music,but of a wildness and a weirdness that startled the boy as it flutteredand danced across the dull red waters of the swamp. He hesitated, thenimpelled by some strange power, left the highway and slipped into theforest of the swamp, shrinking, yet following the song hungrily and halfforgetting his fear. A harsher, shriller note struck in as of many andruder voices; but above it flew the first sweet music, birdlike,abandoned, and the boy crept closer.
The cabin crouched ragged and black at the edge of black waters. An oldchimney leaned drunkenly against it, raging with fire and smoke, whilethrough the chinks winked red gleams of warmth and wild cheer. With arevel of shouting and noise, the music suddenly ceased. Hoarse staccatocries and peals of laughter shook the old hut, and as the boy stoodthere peering through the black trees, abruptly the door flew open and aflood of light illumined the wood.
Amid this mighty halo, as on clouds of flame, a girl was dancing. Shewas black, and lithe, and tall, and willowy. Her garments twined andflew around the delicate moulding of her dark, young, half-naked limbs.A heavy mass of hair clung motionless to her wide forehead. Her armstwirled and flickered, and body and soul seemed quivering and whirringin the poetry of her motion.
As she danced she sang. He heard her voice as before, fluttering like abird's in the full sweetness of her utter music. It was no tune normelody, it was just formless, boundless music. The boy forgot himselfand all the world besides. All his darkness was sudden light; dazzled hecrept forward, bewildered, fascinated, until with one last wild whirlthe elf-girl paused. The crimson light fell full upon the warm andvelvet bronze of her face--her midnight eyes were aglow, her full purplelips apart, her half hid bosom panting, and all the music dead.Involuntarily the boy gave a gasping cry and awoke to swamp and nightand fire, while a white face, drawn, red-eyed, peered outward from somehidden throng within the cabin.
"Who's that?" a harsh voice cried.
"Where?" "Who is it?" and pale crowding faces blurred the light.
The boy wheeled blindly and fled in terror stumbling through the swamp,hearing strange sounds and feeling stealthy creeping hands and arms andwhispering voices. On he toiled in mad haste, struggling toward the roadand losing it until finally beneath the shadows of a mighty oak he sankexhausted. There he lay a while trembling and at last drifted intodreamless sleep.
It was morning when he awoke and threw a startled glance upward to thetwisted branches of the oak that bent above, sifting down sunshine onhis brown face and close curled hair. Slowly he remembered theloneliness, the fear and wild running through the dark. He laughed inthe bold courage of day and stretched himself.
Then suddenly he bethought him again of that vision of the night--thewaving arms and flying limbs of the girl, and her great black eyeslooking into the night and calling him. He could hear her now, and hearthat wondrous savage music. Had it been real? Had he dreamed? Or had itbeen some witch-vision of the night, come to tempt and lure him to hisundoing? Where was that black and flaming cabin? Where was the girl--thesoul that had called him? _She_ must have been real; she had to live anddance and sing; he must again look into the mystery of her great eyes.And he sat up in sudden determination, and, lo! gazed straight into thevery eyes of his dreaming.
She sat not four feet from him, leaning against the great tree, hereyes now languorously abstracted, now alert and quizzical with mischief.She seemed but half-clothed, and her warm, dark flesh peeped furtivelythrough the rent gown; her thick, crisp hair was frowsy and rumpled, andthe long curves of her bare young arms gleamed in the morning sunshine,glowing with vigor and life. A little mocking smile came and sat uponher lips.
"What you run for?" she asked, with dancing mischief in her eyes.
"Because--" he hesitated, and his cheeks grew hot.
"I knows," she said, with impish glee, laughing low music.
"Why?" he challenged, sturdily.
"You was a-feared."
He bridled. "Well, I reckon you'd be a-feared if you was caught out inthe black dark all alone."
"Pooh!" she scoffed and hugged her knees. "Pooh! I've stayed out allalone heaps o' nights."
He looked at her with a curious awe.
"I don't believe you," he asserted; but she tossed her head and her eyesgrew scornful.
"Who's a-feared of the dark? I love night." Her eyes grew soft.
He watched her silently, till, waking from her daydream, she abruptlyasked:
"Where you from?"
"Georgia."
"Where's that?"
He looked at her in surprise, but she seemed matter-of-fact.
"It's away over yonder," he answered.
"Behind where the sun comes up?"
"Oh, no!"
"Then it ain't so far," she declared. "I knows where the sun rises, andI knows where it sets." She looked up at its gleaming splendor glintingthrough the leaves, and, noting its height, announced abruptly:
"I'se hungry."
"So'm I," answered the boy, fumbling at his bundle; and then, timidly:"Will you eat with me?"
"Yes," she said, and watched him with eager eyes.
Untying the strips of cloth, he opened his box, and disclosed chickenand biscuits, ham and corn-bread. She clapped her hands in glee.
"Is there any water near?" he asked.
Without a word, she bounded up and flitted off like a brown bird,gleaming dull-golden in the sun, glancing in and out among the trees,till she paused above a tiny black pool, and then came tripping andswaying back with hands held cupwise and dripping with cool water.
"Drink," she cried. Obediently he bent over the little hands that seemedso soft and thin. He took a deep draught; and then to drain the lastdrop, his hands touched hers and the shock of flesh first meeting fleshstartled them both, while the water rained through. A moment their eyeslooked deep into each other's--a timid, startled gleam in hers; a wonderin his. Then she said dreamily:
"We'se known us all our lives, and--before, ain't we?"
He hesitated.
"Ye--es--I reckon," he slowly returned. And then, brightening, he askedgayly: "And we'll be friends always, won't we?"
"Yes," she said at last, slowly and solemnly, and another brief momentthey stood still.
Then the mischief danced in her eyes, and a song bubbled on her lips.She hopped to the tree.
"Come--eat!" she cried. And they nestled together amid the big blackroots of the oak, laughing and talking while they ate.
"What's over there?" he asked pointing northward.
"Cresswell's big house."
"And yonder to the west?"
"The school."
He started joyf
ully.
"The school! What school?"
"Old Miss' School."
"Miss Smith's school?"
"Yes." The tone was disdainful.
"Why, that's where I'm going. I was a-feared it was a long way off; Imust have passed it in the night."
"I hate it!" cried the girl, her lips tense.
"But I'll be so near," he explained. "And why do you hate it?"
"Yes--you'll be near," she admitted; "that'll be nice; but--" sheglanced westward, and the fierce look faded. Soft joy crept to her faceagain, and she sat once more dreaming.
"Yon way's nicest," she said.
"Why, what's there?"
"The swamp," she said mysteriously.
"And what's beyond the swamp?"
She crouched beside him and whispered in eager, tense tones: "Dreams!"
He looked at her, puzzled.
"Dreams?" vaguely--"dreams? Why, dreams ain't--nothing."
"Oh, yes they is!" she insisted, her eyes flaming in misty radiance asshe sat staring beyond the shadows of the swamp. "Yes they is! Thereain't nothing but dreams--that is, nothing much.
"And over yonder behind the swamps is great fields full of dreams, piledhigh and burning; and right amongst them the sun, when he's tired o'night, whispers and drops red things, 'cept when devils make 'em black."
The boy stared at her; he knew not whether to jeer or wonder.
"How you know?" he asked at last, skeptically.
"Promise you won't tell?"
"Yes," he answered.
She cuddled into a little heap, nursing her knees, and answered slowly.
"I goes there sometimes. I creeps in 'mongst the dreams; they hangsthere like big flowers, dripping dew and sugar and blood--red, redblood. And there's little fairies there that hop about and sing, anddevils--great, ugly devils that grabs at you and roasts and eats you ifthey gits you; but they don't git me. Some devils is big and white, likeha'nts; some is long and shiny, like creepy, slippery snakes; and someis little and broad and black, and they yells--"
The boy was listening in incredulous curiosity, half minded to laugh,half minded to edge away from the black-red radiance of yonder duskyswamp. He glanced furtively backward, and his heart gave a great bound.
"Some is little and broad and black, and they yells--" chanted the girl.And as she chanted, deep, harsh tones came booming through the forest:
"_Zo-ra! Zo-ra!_ O--o--oh, Zora!"
He saw far behind him, toward the shadows of the swamp, an oldwoman--short, broad, black and wrinkled, with fangs and pendulous lipsand red, wicked eyes. His heart bounded in sudden fear; he wheeledtoward the girl, and caught only the uncertain flash of hergarments--the wood was silent, and he was alone.
He arose, startled, quickly gathered his bundle, and looked around him.The sun was strong and high, the morning fresh and vigorous. Stampingone foot angrily, he strode jauntily out of the wood toward the bigroad.
But ever and anon he glanced curiously back. Had he seen a haunt? Or wasthe elf-girl real? And then he thought of her words:
"We'se known us all our lives."
The Quest of the Silver Fleece: A Novel Page 2
