CHAPTER XV
IN THE SOUTHWARD COUNTRY
ACROSS the brook the woods spread away to westward and tosouthward,--majestic oak trees, lulling pines, pale birches, besidesthe walnut and beech trees, and a host of others, the names of whichMiles did not know. Thick though they stood in the forest, all weresoundless now, and well-nigh motionless in the still air of morning.In all the wood the only active thing seemed the sunshine, which camesliding through the branches to mottle the turf or make the pineneedles shiny.
An ardent sun it was too, even where it fell sparsely among the trees,and beyond the thickets, where the path led over unprotected hilltops,it beat fiercely through the breathless air till the heat fairlystifled the travellers. "Shall you go far before you build your house,Miles?" panted Dolly, when the roofs of the settlement were barely sunkfrom sight.
Miles explained that he held it best to push on to the river where hehad gone eeling, so he might have plenty of fish in his dooryard. Hethought to make his way directly to the place, but the journey throughthe heat seemed longer than when he tramped it in the springtime, andhe could not find an easy path so adroitly as Squanto had found one. Hehad to bear away inland too, lest on the seacoast he come upon some ofthe colonists gathering shellfish; and inland, not only was the goingthrough the undergrowth difficult, but the hills shut off the leastwhiff of coolness from the sea.
Soon Dolly gasped for breath, Trug lolled out his tongue, and evenMiles found many pretexts to rest. Here amid the moss bubbled a spring,where the children delayed to drink and cool their hands; there lay amuddy pond, covered with white lilies, which Miles, though he wet hisfeet, strove to get with a long stick; and again and yet again theycame on tangles of luscious raspberries, where they paused to eat theirfill.
Miles had in his pocket a fourpenny whittle, his dearest possession,with which he stripped a great piece of bark from a birch tree, and,cleaving two sticks, shaped it into a basket, in which to carry awaysome of the berries "against dinner-time." But the basket proved anincumbrance to the wayfarers, so, before they had wandered anothermile, the two children sat down in a pine grove, and ate the berriesthey had gathered. They tied Trug carefully, a needless precaution,for the old dog, with as burdening a sense of responsibility as Mileshimself, had no thought of trotting home and leaving those two foolishlittle bodies to their own protection.
By the position of the sun Miles judged it past noon, when theycame at last to a brook, which he thought might be the upper watersof the stream he was seeking. He waded in first to try its depth;then, in gallant fashion, would have carried Dolly over, but littlemistress wished the fun of paddling too. The alders, coming low to thebrookside, cast a rippling shadow on the water, and the sandy bottomwas firm and cool; so when both children once had waded in, they spentsome time in splashing to and fro, while Miles set forth to Dolly howhe had caught eels.
The shadows were beginning to lengthen when they climbed out on thefarther side of the brook, and passed slowly up the next hillslope.Dolly now found she was tired, so Miles said they might as well buildtheir house there as anywhere. Indeed, halfway up the slope they founda capital spot, where the hill, drawing back on itself, left a littlelevel space, with sparse undergrowth and tall trees, the vanguard ofthe forest higher up, that cast a good shade.
To be sure, the exposure was northern, but that would make the placecool in summer, Miles set forth its advantages, and when winter came,they could move round and pitch their camp on the other side of thehill, to southward. "But I shouldn't like to dwell in the wood when itsnows," protested Dolly. "Let us go back and stay at Plymouth, comewinter."
But Miles, in his new independence, laughed at the idea of return, andassured Dolly that he knew how to make her a snug enough house for allweathers. He would drive four forked stakes into the ground; and then,from fork to fork, he would lay four sticks; and across those, othergreat sticks; and thatch all over with moss. He would drive stakes intothe ground to form the sides of the cabin, and wattle them with eldertwigs; and it would be just the trimmest little house she ever saw.Yes, he could drive stakes inside and divide the space into rooms, andhe would cut windows; the only thing that troubled him was how to buildthe fireplace, but he guessed he would think that out presently.
About the time that the red rays of the sun slipped under the lowerbranches of the trees, Miles laid off his doublet and rolled up hisshirt-sleeves, ready for work. First, with his heel, he scored in thedirt the lines of his house; they might as well have a big one, hereplied to Dolly's delighted exclamations.
The little girl ran about within the four lines and scored for herselfthe rooms which they would make. "'Twill be such sport, Miles," shechattered. "A keeping room we'll have, and a parlor, and a great hall."Down she set herself on the grass, between the wavering lines thatmarked the hall, and waited for her brother to build the house over her.
But, though Miles strode jauntily down into the bushes and stayed agreat time, when he came back, he bore, not an armful of stakes, buttwo forked sticks, very gnarled and crooked, and another stick, somefive feet long, without a fork. "What have you been doing, Miles?"Dolly greeted him, in a disappointed tone.
"Why, the wood is hard, and my knife is not very big," the boy answeredsheepishly, "so perhaps to-night, as 'tis drawing late, I'd best put upjust a little shelter. But I'll build the house to-morrow, Dolly."
Then, because the little girl's face fell so grievously, he made hasteto amuse her by turning to such work as he could do that evening. Witha stone for a hammer, he drove his forked sticks into the ground, andlaid the other stick across them; that was the ridgepole, he toldDolly, and now, leaning other boughs against it, he would make ashelter that would be quite sufficient on so hot a night.
But it was wearisome work, haggling off tough boughs with his smallwhittle, and he was tired with walking, and perhaps, he reasoned, asit was drawing on to sunset, he were best not leave Dolly alone byherself and go down into the dim thickets. So, after he had cut enoughbranches to go a third along one side of his ridgepole, he said vaguelythat maybe he would get some more before dark, and so sat down close byDolly.
In the west the sun had already sunk, and little pink clouds weredrifting through the sky; the afterglow still lingered on the open landof the valley along the stream; but in the woods, as Miles glanced overhis shoulder, the grim shadows lurked. It was awesomely silent too,till, on a sudden, a bird began warbling, and presently, flutteringnear, perched on a branch above the children, where he trilled lustily.
Miles had some pebbles in his pocket, and, slipping off his garter, heimprovised a sling; he would kill the bird for their supper, he toldhis sister, but Dolly protested; she would rather the pretty bird livedand sang than that she should eat him. So the songster finished histune and flashed away into the darkening sky, and Miles felt as warm aglow of self-gratulation at giving in to his sister as if he had beenquite certain of fetching down the bird with his sling.
"But we've naught for our supper now, Dolly," he sighed presently."To-morrow, though, I'll find my way to the shore and take us someclams, and, in any case, we'll gather plenty of berries when it'sdaylight. And you do not mind going supperless now?"
"N--no," Dolly assented faintly; since the twilight came on them, shehad grown very quiet.
"I wish Ned Lister could 'a' slipped away with us," Miles resumed. "Ifhe were here with his fowling piece and his fishing line, he'd take usall the victuals we'd want. And he'd be good company, too."
Then they sat in silence a time, very close to each other, with the dogat their feet. Over in the west the bright stars twinkled through thelast waning flecks of the sunset glow, and somewhere in the dark thefrogs were piping. "Miles," whispered Dolly, "aren't you lonely?"
"To be sure not," he answered stoutly.
"Do you not think--perhaps we could walk back home? I'm not weary now."
"I've come hither to stay," Miles said crossly; "you can run back ifyou will; no one will flog you."
"You know I cannot go alone," whimpered Dolly. "And maybe there areIndians and lions will get us. Hark!"
Miles sat erect and listened, every nerve tense, but he heard onlythe snap of a branch, yonder among the black trees. "It was naught,Dolly," he said more kindly, "and you needn't fear; I can take care ofyou. Come, let's lie down in our shelter, and to-morrow in the daylightwe'll build our house."
They crept in behind the screen of branches slowly, for Dolly had holdon Miles's hand and would not let go; but at last they were settled,side by side, Dolly next the leaning roof, and Trug close againstMiles. "The leaves tickle my nose," protested the little girl, "andthere are humps in the ground, and I'm sure that bugs will crawl intomy ears." With a movement that quite disarranged her companions, shesat up and tied her apron over her head; then all three lay down oncemore. "It's--it's fearsome still," Dolly whispered once, and then nofurther words passed between them.
But, although he was silent, Miles lay long awake; his body might beweary, but his brain was very busy with what had befallen him in thelast two days, and with the unknown happenings that were yet beforehim. When he forgot the strangeness of the place and fell asleep atlast, he dreamed of berry patches and ponds full of lilies, and thefine, great house he meant to build next day.
Somewhere sounded a bewildering crash, as if a thousand cartloads ofstone were emptied right beside him. Miles sat up, wondering at thesound, wondering where he was, why his face felt wet, why Dolly clungsobbing to him. A blinding light for an instant tore across the sky,and showed the trees about him twisting in an awesome manner; thendarkness closed in again, and, through it, deafened the appalling crashof thunder.
"Don't be frightened, Dolly, don't be frightened," stammered Miles,clutching his sister; he could feel Trug, with his whole great bodya-tremble, crowding against his knee, and, through Dolly's terrifiedsobs, heard the beast whine.
A second flash, that seemed to rip the sky, lit up the black woods,and, upon the roar that followed, sounded the rush of downpouring rain.As if in bucketsful, the water broke through the frail little shelter;the ground beneath the children grew sodden, and their faces tingledunder the smiting of the raindrops. "Come away, in among the trees,"cried Miles, through the sough of the rain, and dragged Dolly to herfeet.
"Back to Plymouth, oh, let us go back to Plymouth," she wailed.
Without reply, Miles gripped her wrist and stumbled up the hillside,where he remembered the thicker growth of trees began. Bushes tore hisclothes and buffeted his dripping face; rain blinded him; the flashof the lightning dazzled out just long enough to show how unfriendlytrunks beset him, then flared away and left him, half stunned by thethunder that followed, to bruise himself against their harsh bark.
Still, blinded and beaten and breathless, he fought his way onward andat his side haled Dolly, dumb with the bewilderment of the storm. Hehad forgotten whither he hoped to go; he knew only that there was abouthim a lurid darkness of overpowering rain and rattling thunder throughwhich he fled away.
It had been several moments since the last clap of thunder, he realizedsuddenly, and the rain that yet pattered noisily among the leaves didnot beat upon him with the old fury. When the thunder growled again, itwas from far in the distance, and the space between the flash and thecrash was wider. "'Tis near over, Dolly," he spoke subduedly.
The little girl fetched a tremulous, weary sob and made a movement todrop down on the wet turf, but Miles held her arm more firmly. "Nay, wemust keep walking till we be dry," he said, in what he tried to make abrave voice. "Maybe we'll come on some warm, sheltered spot," he added,for his poor little companion's comfort.
Holding each other fast by the hand, and with the dog close at theirheels, they trudged forward into the black woods. Though lessened inforce, the rain still descended in a steady drizzle, and each bushagainst which they brushed drenched them with an added shower. Theground was so slippery and thick with mud that Miles began to fearthey had strayed into a swamp, and, when they stumbled at last upon athicket of close-growing evergreen, he thought it safest to shelterthere till daylight.
Crawling in beneath the low branches that half protected them fromthe slackening rain, they cuddled close to the dog and to each other."I'm glad I remembered to save my poppet," Dolly sought to find somecomfort. "She'd have been frightened, had we left her alone."
So Dolly dropped off to sleep in Miles's arms, and, lulled by the dripof the rain, he, too, dozed a time, and awoke very chilly and stiff.The branches above him stirred in a gusty wind, and in the mottled skyhe could see some faint stars. He crawled out from the thicket and, ashe stood up in the freer air, caught the smell of brine in the breeze,and saw that, in the quarter of the heavens whence it came, the nightwas paling. "'Tis eastward yonder and the sea," he cried, delighted tofind, for all his wanderings, he was not hopelessly lost. "Come, Dolly,we'll walk to the shore."
Over hills and through thickets they trudged bravely, in theexhilaration of knowing whither they were headed, and that the dreadfulnight was past. Slowly the darkness was waning; the sky faded fromblack to gray, and in the wet woods a bird piped dolefully. Presently astill more welcome sound reached the ears of the travellers,--a long,mournful sough as of breaking waters. "It's waves; we're near theshore," cried Miles, and added a feeble hurrah, whereat Trug, judgingall well, leaped and barked.
There was yet a wide stretch of bare uplands to cross, and the morninghad broken in earnest before the children clambered down the low bluffto the sandy beach. The tide was out, and the brown rocks, like deadsea beasts, lay uncovered; but Miles and Dolly gave them little heed,for just then, right in their eyes, the sun burst forth in the east,and made a path of yellow ripples on the water.
Forgetting her weariness, Dolly almost ran down the hard sand to thewater's edge. "I thought maybe I could see Plymouth round that point onour left," she told Miles disappointedly. "We can walk thither, can wenot, along the shore?"
"We'll eat breakfast first," said Miles, who had found a great shellupon the sand. "I'll wade out and dig clams, while you fetch seaweedfor the fire."
He had not yet made up his mind about the return to the settlement; tobe sure, he was very wet and hungry, but it did not rain every night,and with the thought of Plymouth came the dreadful vision of the publicflogging. Besides, now it was daylight, it was good to be his ownman and get his own breakfast; so he paddled about bravely, and didnot complain, for all the mud and water were cold and the clams few,and his back ached with stooping to dig them. A dozen were enough fortwo, he concluded, so when he had that number disposed securely in hisdoublet, which he had twisted into a bag, he splashed shoreward.
"'Oh, Miles, 'tis the savages come for us!'"]
Dolly had patiently fetched a mass of slippery seaweed, and, while hedrew on his shoes and stockings, she arranged stones with the clams ontop, and the seaweed all about them.
"And now I'll light the fire," Miles said soberly, as he rose up andstamped his feet in his wet shoes. Taking a smooth stone, he kneltover the seaweed, and, striking the stone with his whittle, sought toget a spark. But it seemed not a proper flint, for though he struckand struck, no spark came, and Dolly, cold and hungry, grew impatient,whereat Miles rebuked her sternly: "'Tis like a girl. I'm doing thebest I can. Hush, will you, Dolly?"
Then he forgot his petty wrangling, for, at a growl from Trug, helooked to the bluff, and there, between him and the safe inland forest,he saw a little group of people coming toward him. The look on his facemade Dolly, who knelt opposite him, glance back over her shoulder. "Oh,Miles," she gasped, "'tis the savages come for us!"
Miles stood up and held Dolly close to him with one arm, while hegrasped Trug's collar with the other hand. "They're all friendly,Dolly, all friendly," he repeated, and wondered that his voice was sodry and faint.
A little up the sand the Indians stopped; several who kept to the rearwere squaws, with hoes of clam-shell and baskets, but at the front weretwo warriors, who now came noiselessly down the beach. "Quiet, Trug,"Miles
said, stoutly as he could, and, as the savages drew near, greetedthem boldly with the Indian salutation he had learnt of Squanto:"Cowompaum sin; good morrow to you."
They halted close to him, though evidently a bit uncertain as to thesnarling Trug; they spoke, but he could make out no word of their rapidutterance. "I'm a friend," he repeated, hopeless of getting any goodof his little store of Indian words, almost too alarmed even to recallthem. "I come from Plymouth,--" he pointed up the shore where thesettlement lay,--"and I want to go back thither."
He made a movement as if to start up the shore, when one of the Indianslaid a hand on his arm and pointed southward. Miles shook his head,while dumb terror griped his heart; these were none of King Massasoit'sfriendly Indians, but people from the Cape, such as had fought theEnglishmen in the winter. "Let me go home," he repeated unsteadily.
But without heeding him one loosed his arm from about Dolly's waist.Thereat Trug, with his hair a-bristle, gathered himself to spring, andthe other warrior gripped the club he carried in his hand. "You shan'tkill my dog!" screamed Miles, seizing Trug's collar to hold him back;and at that the savage, taking Dolly from beside him, lifted her in hisarms.
The other Indian would have picked up Miles, but he dodged his hand,and, dragging Trug with him, ran up alongside the warrior who heldDolly. The little girl lay perfectly quiet, her eyes round with terror,and her lips trembling. "Don't be afraid, Dolly," quavered Miles, inwhat he tried to make a stout voice, "no matter where they take us.They shan't hurt you; Trug and I won't let them hurt you."
Soldier Rigdale: How He Sailed in the Mayflower and How He Served Miles Standish Page 15