Quick Action

by Robert W. Chambers

  IV

  When Miss Cassillis heard the gun, it sounded very far away. But itirritated as well as scared her. She pushed the canoe energeticallythrough a screen of foliage overhanging the bank of the lagoon, it beingmerely her immediate instinct to hide herself.

  To her surprise and pleasure, she discovered herself in a narrow, deeplead, which had been entirely concealed by the leaves, and which woundaway through an illimitable vista of reeds, widening as she paddledforward, until it seemed like a glassy river bordered by live-oak,water-oak, pine, and palmetto, curving out into a flat and endless landof forests.

  Here was liberty at last! No pursuit need now be feared, for theentrance to this paradise which she had forced by a chance impulsecould never be suspected by parent or fiance.

  A little breeze blew her hair and loosened it; silently her paddledipped, swept astern in a swirl of bubbles, flashed dripping, and dippedagain.

  Ahead of her a snake-bird slipped from a dead branch into the water; acormorant perched on the whitened skeleton of a mango, made hideousefforts to swallow a mullet before her approach disorganized hismanoeuvres.

  So silently the canoe stole along that the fat alligators, dozing in thesaw-grass, dozed on until she stirred them purposely with a low tap ofher paddle against the thwarts; then they rose, great lumbering bodiespropped high on squatty legs, waddled swiftly to the bank's edge, andslid headlong into the water.

  Everywhere dragon-flies glittered over the saw-grass; wild ducks withgolden eyes and heads like balls of brown plush swam leisurely out ofthe way; a few mallard, pretending to be frightened, splashed andclattered into flight, the sunlight jewelling the emerald heads of thedrakes.

  "Wonderful, wonderful," her heart was singing to itself, while herenchanted eyes missed nothing--neither the feebly flying and strangelyshaped, velvety black butterflies, the narrow wings of which werestriped with violent yellow; nor the metallic blue and crestless jaysthat sat on saplings, watching her; nor the pelicans fishing withnature's orange and iridescent net in the shallows; nor the tall,slate-blue birds that marched in dignified retreat through the sedge,picking up their stilt-like legs with the precision of Germanfoot-soldiers on parade.

  These and other phenomena made her drop her paddle at intervals and clapher hands softly in an ecstasy beyond mere exclamation. How restfullygreen was the world; how limpid the water; how royally blue the heavens!Listening, she could hear the soft stirring of palmetto fronds in theforests; the celestial song of a little bird that sat on a sparkle-berrybush, its delicate long-curved bill tilted skyward. Then the deep noteof splendour flashed across the scheme of sound and colour as a crimsoncardinal alighted near her, crest erect.

  But more wonderful than all was that at last, after eighteen years, shewas utterly alone; and liberty was showering its inestimable gifts uponher in breathless prodigality--liberty to see with her own eyes andjudge with her own senses; liberty to linger capriciously amid mentalfancies, to move on impulsively to others; liberty to reflect unurgedand unrestricted; liberty to choose, to reject, to ignore.

  "They inspected each other, apparently bereft of thepower of speech."]

  Now and then a brilliant swimming snake filled her with interest andcuriosity. Once, on a flat, low bush, she saw a dull, heavy,blunt-bodied serpent lying asleep in the sun like an old and swollensection of rubber hose. But when she ventured to touch the bush with herpaddle, the snake reared high and yawned at her with jaws which seemedto be lined in white satin. Which fortunately made her uneasy, and shemeddled no more with the Little Death of the southern swamps.

  She was now passing very close to the edge of the "hammock," wherepalmettos overhung the water; and as the cool, dim woodlands seemed toinvite her, she looked about her leisurely for an agreeable landingplace. There were plenty to choose from; and she selected a little sandypoint under a red cedar tree, drove her canoe upon it, and calmlystepped ashore. And found herself looking into the countenance of Jones.

  For a full minute they inspected each other, apparently bereft of thepower of speech.

  She said, finally: "About a year ago last February, did you happen towalk down Fifth Avenue--very busily? Did you?"

  It took him an appreciable time to concentrate for mental retrospection.

  "Yes," he said, "I did."

  "You were going down town, weren't you?"

  "Yes."

  "On business?"

  "Yes," he said, bewildered.

  "I wonder," she said timidly, "if you would tell me what that businesswas? Do you mind? Because, really, I don't mean to be impertinent."

  He made an effort to reflect. It was difficult to reflect and to keephis eyes on her but also it is impolite to converse with anybody andlook elsewhere. This he had been taught at his mother's knee--andsometimes over it.

  "My business down town," he said very slowly, "was with an officer ofthe Smithsonian Institution who had come on from Washington to seesomething which I had brought with me from Florida."

  "Would you mind telling me what it was you brought with you fromFlorida?" she asked wistfully.

  "No. It was malaria."

  "What!"

  "It was malaria," he repeated politely.

  "I--I don't see how you could--could show it to him," she murmured,perplexed.

  "Well, I'll tell you how I showed it to him. I made a little incision inmy skin with a lancet; he made a smear or two----"

  "A--what?"

  "A smear--he put a few drops of my blood on some glass plates."

  "Why?"

  "To examine them under the microscope."

  "Why?"

  "So that he might determine what particular kind of malaria I hadbrought back with me."

  "Did he find out?" she asked, deeply interested.

  "Yes," said Jones, displaying mild symptoms of enthusiasm, "hediscovered that I was fairly swarming with a perfectly new andundescribed species of bacillus. That bacillus," he added, with modestdiffidence, "is now named after me."

  She looked at him very earnestly, dropped her blue eyes, raised themagain after a moment:

  "It must be--pleasant--to give one's name to a bacillus."

  "It is an agreeable and exciting privilege. When I look into the culturetubes I feel an intimate relationship with those bacilli which I havenever felt for any human being."

  "You--you are a----" she hesitated, with a slight but charming colour inher cheeks, "a naturalist, I presume?" And she added hastily, "No doubtyou are a famous one, and my question must sound ignorant and absurd toyou. But as I do not know your name----"

  "It is Jones," he said gloomily, "--and I am not famous."

  "Mine is Cecil Cassillis; and neither am I," she said. "But I thoughtwhen naturalists gave their names to butterflies and microbes thateverything concerned immediately became celebrated."

  Jones smiled; and she thought his expression very attractive.

  "No," he said, "fame crowns the man who, celebrated only for his wealth,names hotels, tug-boats, and art galleries after himself. Thus areImmortals made."

  She laughed, standing there gracefully as a boy, her hands resting onher narrow hips. She laughed again. A tug-boat, a hotel, and a cigarwere named after her father.

  "Fame is an extraordinary thing," she said. "But liberty is still morewonderful, isn't it?"

  "Liberty is only comparative," he said, smiling. "There is really nosuch thing as absolute freedom."

  "_You_ have all the freedom you desire, haven't you?"

  "Well--I enjoy the only approach to absolute liberty I ever heard of."

  "What kind of liberty is that?"

  "Freedom to think as I please, no matter what I'm obliged to do."

  "But you do what you please, too, don't you?"

  "Oh, no!" he said smiling. "The man was never born who did what hepleased."

  "Why not? You choose your own work, don't you?"

  "Yes. But once the liberty of choice is exercised, freedom ends. Ichoose my profession. There my liberty ends, bec
ause instantly I amenslaved by the conditions which make my choice a profession."

  She was deeply interested. A mossy log lay near them; she seated herselfto listen, her elbow on her knee, and her chin cupped in her hand. ButJones became silent.

  "Were you not in that funny little boat that passed the inlet aboutthree hours ago?" she asked.

  "The _Orange Puppy_? Yes."

  "What an odd name for a boat--the _Orange Puppy_!"

  "An orange puppy," he explained, "is the name given in the Floridaorange groves to the caterpillar of a large swallow-tail butterfly,which feeds on orange leaves. The butterfly it turns into is known toentomologists as _Papilio cresphontes_ and _Papilio thoas_. The latteris a misnomer."

  She gazed upon this young man in undisguised admiration.

  "Once," she said, "when I was nine years old, I ran away from agoverness and two trained nurses. They found me with both hands full ofmuddy pollywogs. It has nothing to do with what you are saying, but Ithought I'd tell you."

  He insisted that the episode she recalled was most interesting andunusual, considered purely as a human document.

  "Would you tell me what you are doing down here in these forests?" sheasked, "--as we are discussing human documents."

  "Yes," he said. "I am investigating several thousand small caterpillarswhich are feeding on the scrub-palmetto."

  "Is that your _business_?"

  "Exactly. If you will remain very still for a moment and listen veryintently you can hear the noise which these caterpillars make whilethey are eating."

  She thought of the _Chihuahua_, and it occurred to her that she hadrather tired of seeing things eat. However, except in Europe, she hadnever _heard_ things eat. So she listened.

  He said: "These caterpillars are in their third moult--that is, theyhave changed their skin three times since emerging from the egg--and arenow busily chewing the immature fruit of the scrub-palmetto. You canhear them very plainly."

  She sat silent, spellbound; and presently in the woodland stillness, allaround her she heard the delicate and continuous sound--the steady,sustained noise of thousands of tiny jaws, all crunching, all busilyworking together. And when she realized what the elfin rustle reallymeant, she turned her delighted and grateful eyes on Jones. And thebeauty of them made him exceedingly thoughtful.

  "Will you explain to me," she whispered, "why you are studying thesecaterpillars, Mr. Jones?"

  "Because they are spreading out over the forests. Until recently thisparticular species of caterpillar, and the pretty little moth into whichit ultimately turns, were entirely confined to a narrow strip ofjungle, only a few miles long, lying on the Halifax River. Nowhere elsein all the world could these little creatures be found. But recentlythey have been reported from the Dead Lake country. So the SmithsonianInstitution sent me down here to study them, and find out whither theywere spreading, and whether any natural parasitic enemies had yetappeared to check them."

  She gazed at him, fascinated.

  "Have any appeared?" she asked, under her breath.

  "I have not yet found a single creature that preys upon them."

  "Isn't it a very arduous and difficult task to watch these thousands oflittle caterpillars all day long?"

  "It is quite impossible for me to do it thoroughly all alone."

  "Would you like to have me help you?" she asked innocently.

  Which rather bowled him over, but he said:

  "I'd b-b-be d-d-delighted--only you haven't time, have you?"

  "I have three days. I've brought a tent, you see, and everythingnecessary--rugs, magazines, blankets, toilet articles, bon-bons,books--everything, in fact, to last three days.... I wonder how thattent is put up. Do you know?"

  He went over to the canoe and gazed at the tent.

  "I think I could pitch it for you," he said.

  "Oh, thanks so much! May I help you? I think I'll put it here on thispretty stretch of white sand by the water's edge."

  "I'm afraid that wouldn't do," he said, gravely.

  "Why?"

  "Because the lagoon is tidal. You'd be awash sooner or later."

  "I see. Well, then, anywhere in the woods will do----"

  "Not _anywhere_," he said, smiling. "High water leaves few dry places inthis forest; in fact--I'm afraid that my shack is perched on the onlyspot which is absolutely dry at all times. It is a shell mound--the onlyone in the Dead Lake region."

  "Isn't there room for my tent beside yours?" she asked, a trifleanxiously.

  "Y-es," he said, in a voice as matter of fact as her own. "How many willthere be in your party?"

  "In my _party_! Why, only myself," she said, with smiling animation.

  "Oh, I see!" But he didn't.

  They lugged the tent back among the trees to the low shell mound, wherein the centre of a ring of pines and evergreen oaks his open-faced shackstood, thatched with palmetto fans. She gazed upon the wash drying onthe line, upon a brace of dead ducks hanging from the eaves, upon thesmoky kettle and the ashes of the fire. Purest delight sparkled in herblue eyes.

  Erecting her silk tent with practiced hands, he said carelessly:

  "In case you cared to send any word to the yacht----"

  "Did I say that I came from the yacht?" she asked; and her straighteyebrows bent a trifle inward.

  "Didn't you?"

  "Will you promise me something, Mr. Jones?"

  The things he was prepared to promise her choked him for a second, butwhen he regained control of his vocal powers he said, very pleasantly,that he would gladly promise her anything.

  "Then don't ask me where I came from. Let me stay three days. Then I'llgo very quietly away, and never trouble you again. Is it a promise?"

  "Yes," he said, not looking at her. His face had become very serious;she noticed it--and how well his head was set on his shoulders, and howhis clipped hair was burned to the color of crisp hay.

  "You were Harvard, of course," she said, unthinkingly.

  "Yes." He mentioned the year.

  "Not crew?"

  "No."

  "Baseball?"

  "'Varsity pitcher," he nodded, surprised.

  "Then this is the third time I've seen you.... I wonder what it is aboutyou----" She remained silent, watching him burying her water bottles inthe cool marl.

  When all was in order, he smiled, made her a little formal bow, andevinced a disposition to retire and leave her in possession.

  "I thought we were going to work at once!" she said uneasily. "I amquite ready." And, as he did not seem to comprehend, "I was going tohelp you to examine the little caterpillars, one by one; and the minuteI saw anything trying to bite them I was going to call you. Didn't youunderstand?" she added wistfully.

  "That will be fine!" he said, with an enthusiasm very poorlycontrolled.

  "You will show me where the little creatures are hiding, won't you?"

  "Indeed I will! Here they are, all about us!" He made a sweeping gestureover the low undergrowth of scrub-palmetto; and the next moment:

  "I see them!" she exclaimed, delighted. "Oh, what funny, scrubby, busylittle creatures! They are everywhere--_everywhere_! Why, there seem tobe thousands and thousands of them! And all are eating the tiny greenbunches of fruit!"

  They bent together over a group of feeding larvae; he handed her a pocketmicroscope like his own; and, enchanted, she studied the tiny thingswhile he briefly described their various stages of development from thelittle eggs to the pretty, pearl-tinted moth so charmingly striped withdelicate, brown lines--a rare prize in the cabinet of any collector.