CHAPTER XXVII
SURPRISED
Felix was now anxious to continue his journey, yet he did not like toleave the shepherds, with whom his life was so pleasant. As usual, whendeliberating, he wandered about the hills, and then into the forest. Theshepherds at first insisted on at least two of their number accompanyinghim; they were fearful lest the gipsies should seize him, or a Bushmanassassinate him. This company was irksome to Felix. In time he convincedthem that he was a much better hunter than any of the tribe, and theypermitted him to roam alone. During one of these excursions into theforest he discovered a beautiful lake. He looked down on the water fromthe summit of one of the green mountains.
It was, he thought, half a mile across, and the opposite shore was openwoodland, grassy and meadow-like, and dotted with fine old oaks. Bydegrees these closed together, and the forest succeeded; beyond itagain, at a distance of two miles, were green hills. A little clearingonly was wanted to make the place fit for a castle and enclosure.Through the grass-land opposite he traced the course of a large brookdown to the lake; another entered it on the right, and the lakegradually narrowed to a river on his left. Could he erect a tower there,and bring Aurora to it, how happy he would be! A more beautiful spot hehad never seen, nor one more suited for every purpose in life.
He followed the course of the stream which left the lake, every now andthen disturbing wild goats from the cliffs, and twice he saw deer underthe oaks across it. On rounding a spur of down he saw that the riverdebouched into a much wider lake, which he conjectured must be the SweetWaters. He went on till he reached the mouth of the river, and had thenno doubt that he was standing once more on the shore of the Sweet Watersea. On this, the southern side, the banks were low; on the other, asteep chalky cliff almost overhung the river, and jutted out into thelake, curving somewhat towards him. A fort on that cliff would commandthe entrance to the river; the cliff was a natural breakwater, so thatthere was a haven at its base. The river appeared broad and deep enoughfor navigation, so that vessels could pass from the great Lake to theinland water; about six or seven miles, he supposed.
Felix was much taken with this spot; the beauty of the inland lake, theevident richness of the soil, the river communicating with the greatLake, the cliff commanding its entrance; never, in all his wanderings,had he seen a district so well suited for a settlement and the foundingof a city. If he had but a thousand men! How soon he would bring Aurorathere, and build a tower, and erect a palisade! So occupied was he withthe thought that he returned the whole distance to the spot where he hadmade the discovery. There he remained a long time, designing it all inhis mind.
The tower he would build yonder, three-quarters of a mile, perhaps amile, inland from the opposite shore, on a green knoll, at the base ofwhich the brook flowed. It would be even more pleasant there than on theshore of the lake. The forest he would clear back a little, and put up astout palisade, enclosing at least three miles of grassy land. By theshore of the lake he would build his town, so that his vessels might beable to go forth into the great Sweet Water sea. So strongly didimagination hold him that he did not observe how near it was to sunset,nor did he remark the threatening aspect of the sky. Thunder awoke himfrom his dream; he looked, and saw a storm rapidly coming from thenorth-east.
He descended the hill, and sheltered himself as well as possible amongsome thick fir-trees. After the lightning, the rain poured so heavilythat it penetrated the branches, and he unstrung his bow and placed thestring in his pocket, that it might not become wet. Instantly there wasa whoop on either side, and two gipsies darted from the undergrowthtowards him. While the terrible bow was bent they had followed him,tracking his footsteps; the moment he unstrung the bow, they rushed out.Felix crushed through between the firs, by main force getting through,but only opening a passage for them to follow. They could easily havethrust their darts through him, but their object was to take him alive,and gratify the revenge of the tribes with torture.
Felix doubled from the firs, and made towards the far-distant camp; buthe was faced by three more gipsies. He turned again and made for thesteep hill he had descended. With all his strength he raced up it; hislightness of foot carried him in advance, and he reached the summit ahundred yards ahead; but he knew he must be overtaken presently, unlesshe could hit upon some stratagem. In the instant that he paused tobreathe on the summit a thought struck him. Like the wind he raced alongthe ridge, making for the great Sweet Water, the same path he hadfollowed in the morning. Once on the ridge the five pursuers shouted;they knew they should have him now there were no more hills to breast.It was not so easy as they imagined.
Felix was in splendid training; he kept his lead, and even drew a littleon them. Still he knew in time he must succumb, just as the stag, thoughswifter of foot, ultimately succumbs to the hounds. They would track himtill they had him. If only he could gain enough to have time to stringand bend his bow! But with all his efforts he could not get away morethan the hundred yards, and that was not far enough. It could betraversed in ten seconds, they would have him before he could string itand fit an arrow. If only he had been fresh as in the morning! But hehad had a long walk during the day and not much food. He knew that hisburst of speed must soon slacken, but he had a stratagem yet.
Keeping along the ridge till he reached the place where the lakenarrowed to the river, suddenly he rushed down the hill towards thewater. The edge was encumbered with brushwood and fallen trees; hescrambled over and through anyhow; he tore a path through the bushes andplunged in. But his jacket caught in a branch; he had his knife out andcut off the shred of cloth. Then with the bow and knife in one hand hestruck out for the opposite shore. His hope was that the gipsies, beinghorsemen, and passing all their lives on their horses, might not knowhow to swim. His conjecture was right; they stopped on the brink, andyelled their loudest. When he had passed the middle of the slow streamtheir rage rose to a shriek, startling a heron far down the water.
Felix reached the opposite shore in safety, but the bow-string was nowwet and useless. He struck off at once straight across the grass-lands,past the oaks he had admired, past the green knoll where in imaginationhe had built his castle and brought Aurora, through the brook, which hefound was larger than it appeared at a distance, and required two orthree strokes to cross. A few more paces and the forest sheltered him.Under the trees he rested, and considered what course to pursue. Thegipsies would expect him to endeavour to regain his friends, and wouldwatch to cut off his return. Felix determined to make, instead, foranother camp farther east, and to get even there by a detour.
Bitterly he reproached himself for his folly in leaving the camp,knowing that gipsies were about, with no other weapon than the bow. Theknife at his belt was practically no weapon at all, useful only in thelast extremity. Had he a short sword, or javelin, he would have facedthe two gipsies who first sprang towards him. Worse than this was thefolly of wandering without the least precaution into a territory at thattime full of gipsies, who had every reason to desire his capture. If hehad used the ordinary precautions of woodcraft, he would have noticedtheir traces, and he would not have exposed himself in full view on theridges of the hills, where a man was visible for miles. If he perishedthrough his carelessness, how bitter it would be! To lose Aurora by themerest folly would, indeed, be humiliating.
He braced himself to the journey before him, and set off at a goodswinging hunter's pace, as it is called, that is, a pace rather morethan a walk and less than a run, with the limbs somewhat bent, and longspringy steps. The forest was in the worst possible condition formovement; the rain had damped the fern and undergrowth, and every branchshowered raindrops upon him. It was now past sunset and the dusk wasincreasing; this he welcomed as hiding him. He travelled on till nearlydawn, and then, turning to the right, swept round, and regained the lineof the mountainous hills after sunrise. There he rested, and reached acamp about nine in the morning, having walked altogether since thepreceding morning fully fifty miles. This camp was about fifteen miles
distant from that of his friends; the shepherds knew him, and one ofthem started with the news of his safety. In the afternoon ten of hisfriends came over to see him, and to reproach him.
His weariness was so great that for three days he scarcely moved fromthe hut, during which time the weather was wet and stormy, as is oftenthe case in summer after a thunderstorm. On the fourth morning it wasfine, and Felix, now quite restored to his usual strength, went out withthe shepherds. He found some of them engaged in throwing up a heap ofstones, flint, and chalk lumps near an oak-tree in a plain at the footof the hill. They told him that during the thunderstorm two cows and tensheep had been killed there by lightning, which had scarcely injured theoak.
It was their custom to pile up a heap of stones wherever such an eventoccurred, to warn others from staying themselves, or allowing theirsheep or cattle to stay, near the spot in thunder, as it was observedthat where lightning struck once it was sure to strike again, sooner orlater. "Then," said Felix, "you may be sure there is water there!" Heknew from his study of the knowledge of the ancients that lightningfrequently leaped from trees or buildings to concealed water, but he hadno intention of indicating water in that particular spot. He meant theremark in a general sense.
But the shepherds, ever desirous of water, and looking on Felix as abeing of a different order to themselves, took his casual observation inits literal sense. They brought their tools and dug, and, as it chanced,found a copious spring. The water gushed forth and formed a streamlet.Upon this the whole tribe gathered, and they saluted Felix as one almostdivine. It was in vain that he endeavoured to repel this homage, and toexplain the reason of his remark, and that it was only in a general waythat he intended it. Facts were too strong for him. They had heard hiswords, which they considered an inspiration, and _there_ was the water.It was no use; _there_ was the spring, the very thing they most wanted.Perforce Felix was invested with attributes beyond nature.
The report spread; his own old friends came in a crowd to see the newspring, others journeyed from afar. In a week, Felix having meanwhilereturned to Wolfstead, his fame had for the second time spread all overthe district. Some came a hundred miles to see him. Nothing he could saywas listened to; these simple, straightforward people understood nothingbut facts, and the defeat of the gipsies and the discovery of the springseemed to them little less than supernatural. Besides which, ininnumerable little ways Felix's superior knowledge had told upon them.His very manners spoke of high training. His persuasive voice won them.His constructive skill and power of planning, as shown in the palisadesand enclosure, showed a grasp of circumstances new to them. This was aman such as they had never before seen.
They began to bring him disputes to settle; he shrank from this positionof judge, but it was useless to struggle; they would wait as long as heliked, but his decision they would have, and no other. Next came thesick begging to be cured. Here Felix was firm; he would not attempt tobe a physician, and they went away. But, unfortunately, it happened thathe let out his knowledge of plants, and back they came. Felix did notknow what course to pursue; if by chance he did any one good, crowdswould beset him; if injury resulted, perhaps he would be assassinated.This fear was quite unfounded; he really had not the smallest idea ofhow high he stood in their estimation.
After much consideration, Felix hit upon a method which would save himfrom many inconveniences. He announced his intention of forming aherb-garden in which to grow the best kind of herbs, and at the sametime said he would not administer any medicine himself, but would telltheir own native physicians and nurses all he knew, so that they coulduse his knowledge. The herb-garden was at once begun in the valley; itcould not contain much till next year, and meantime if any diseasedpersons came Felix saw them, expressed his opinion to the old shepherdwho was the doctor of the tribe, and the latter carried out hisinstructions. Felix did succeed in relieving some small ailments, andthereby added to his reputation.
After London; Or, Wild England Page 33