audible a mile or more.
"Go on with the story," said Mark.
"It's finished."
"But what did he do when they pulled him back? Didn't he burst the dooropen?"
"He couldn't. When he was pulled back it was night on that side of thewall, and the sudden change made him so bewildered that they led himaway as if he was walking in his sleep down to the temple."
"What did he do with the magic leaf he had in his hand?"
"O! the wind of the bronze door as it slammed up blew it out of hishand. But when he came to himself and began to reproach them forpulling him away before he had had time even to look, they told him hehad been looking three days and that it was the third night when thedoor was shut--"
"I see--it went so quick."
"It went so quick, like when you go to sleep and wake up next minute,and it's morning. But when he came to himself he found that his righthand which he had put through and which had cast no shadow was changed,it was white and smooth and soft, while the other hand and his face (ashe was so old) was wrinkled and hard, so he was quite sure that what hehad seen was real and true."
"Didn't he try to go back and find the door."
"Of course he did. But there was nothing but jungle, and he could notfind the narrow valley; nor would they show him the way there again.They told him that only one was let through about every thousand years,and the reason they are so careful people shall not enter Thibet is thatthey may not stumble on the bronze door."
"And what became of him?"
"O! he lived to be the oldest man there ever was, which was because hehad breathed the delicious air, and his hand was always white and softlike Frances's. Every night when he went to sleep, he could hear someof the star flute music of the organ, and dreamed he could see it; buthe could hear it plainly. At last he died and went to join his soul,which had travelled on down the footpath, you know, towards the opalsun."
"How stupid to keep the door shut, and never let any one find it!"
"Ah, but don't you see the reason is because if it was open and peoplecould find it, they would all run there and squeeze through, one afterthe other, like sheep through a gap, till the world was left emptywithout anybody in it, and they told him that was the reason. Grandpasays it is a pleasant thought that at least one goes through in athousand years; if only one, that is something. My grandpa told me thestory, and the son of the man told him--I mean the man who just lookedthrough, or else it was his grandson or his great-great-grandson, for Iknow it was a long time ago. And there is no other side to that place."
"Let's go there," said Mark, after a pause, "you and me, and take somepowder and blow the door open."
"If we could find it."
"O! we could find it; let's go to Thibet."
"So we will."
"And blow the bronze door open."
"And read the magic leaves."
"And go on down the footpath."
"And talk to the people under the golden dome flowers."
"I'm sure _we_ could find the door."
"We _will_ find it."
"Very soon."
"Some day."
Watching the swan among the glittering ripples, they cracked the rest ofthe nuts, and did not get up to go till the sun was getting low. It wasnot a wild swan, but one whose feathers had not been clipped. The windrose a little, and sighed dreamily through the tops of the tall firs asthey walked under them. They returned along the shore where the weedscame to the island, and had gone some way, when Mark suddenly caughthold of Bevis and drew him behind a bush.
Volume Three, Chapter VI.
NEW FORMOSA--THE MATCHLOCK.
"What is it?" said Bevis.
"I saw a savage."
"Where?"
"In the sedges on the shore there," pointing across the weeds. "I sawhis head--he had no hat on."
"Quite sure?" Bevis looked, but could not see anything.
"Almost very nearly quite sure."
They watched the sedges a long time, but saw nothing.
"Was it Charlie, or Val, or Cecil?"
"No, I don't think so," said Mark.
"They could not get round either," said Bevis. "If they crossed theNile like we did, they could not get round."
"No."
"It could not have been anybody."
"I thought it was; but perhaps it was a crow flew up--it looked black."
"Sure to have been a crow. The sedges do not move."
"No, it was a mistake--they couldn't get here."
They went on again and found a wild bullace.
"This is the most wonderful island there ever was," said Bevis; "there'salways something new on or about it. The swan--I shall shoot the swan.No, most likely it's sacred, and the king of the country would have ushunted down if we killed it."
"And tied to a stake and tortured."
"Melted lead poured into our mouths, because we shot the sacred swanwith leaden bullets."
"Awful. No, don't shoot it. There are currant-trees on the islandtoo--I've seen them, and there's a gooseberry bush up in the top of anold willow that I saw," said Mark. "Of course there are bananas; arethere any breadfruit-trees here?"
"Certain to be some somewhere."
"Melons and oranges."
"Of course, and grapes--those are grapes," pointing to bryony-berries,"and pomegranates and olives."
"Yams and everything."
"Everything. I wonder if Pan will bark this time--I wonder if anythingis gone," said Bevis as they reached the stockade. Pan did not bark,and there was nothing missing.
They set to work now to make some tea and roast the moorhens, havingdetermined to have tea and supper together. The tea was ready longbefore the moorhens, and by the time they had finished the moon wasshining brightly, though there were some flecks of cloud. They couldnot of course play cards, so Bevis got out his journal; and having putdown about the honey-bird, and the swan, and the discoveries they hadmade, went on to make a list of the trees and plants on the island, andthe birds that came to it. They had seen a small flock of seven oreight missel-thrushes pass in the afternoon, and Mark said that all thebirds came from the unknown river, and flew on towards thenorth-north-west. This was the direction of the waste, or wild pasture.
"Then there must be mainland that way," said Bevis; "and I expect it isinhabited and ploughed, and sown with corn, for that's what the birdslike at this time of the year."
"And the other way--where they come from--must be a pathless jungle,"said Mark. "And they rest here a moment as they cross the ocean. It istoo far for one fly."
"My journal ought to be written on palm leaves," said Bevis, "a booklike this is not proper: let's get some leaves to-morrow and see if wecan write on them."
"Don't shipwrecked people write on their shirts," said Mark, "and peoplewho are put in prison?"
"So they do--of course: but our shirts are flannel, how stupid!"
"I know," said Mark, "there's the collars." He went into the hut andbrought out their linen collars, which they had ceased to wear. Bevistried to write on these, but the ink ran and sank in, and it did not doat all.
"Wrong ink," he said, "we must make some of charcoal--lampblack--andoil. You use it just like paint, and you can't blot it, you must waittill it dries on."
"No oil," said Mark. "I wanted to rub the gun with some and looked, butthere is none--we forgot it."
"Yellow-hammers," said Bevis, turning to his journal again; "what areyellow-hammers?"
"Unknown birds," said Mark. "We don't know half the birds--nobody hasever put any name to them, nobody has ever seen them: call them, let'ssee--gold-dust birds--"
"And greenfinches?"
"Ky-wee--Ky-wee," said Mark, imitating the greenfinches' call.
"That will do capital--Ky-wees," said Bevis.
"There's a horse-matcher here," said Mark. The horse-matcher is thebold hedge-hawk or butcher bird. "The one that sticks the humble-beeson the thorns."
"Bee-stick
ers--no, bee-killers: that's down," said Bevis. Besides whichhe wrote down nettle-creepers (white-throats), goldfinch, magpie,chaffinch, tree-climber, kestrel-hawk, linnets, starlings, parrots, andparrakeets. "I shall get up early to-morrow morning," he said. "I'llload the matchlock to-night, I want to shoot a heron."
He loaded the matchlock with ball, and soon afterwards they let thecurtain down at the door, and went to bed, Bevis
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