Star Girl

by Henry Winterfeld

  “Eeks! My pretty shoes are getting all wet,” complained Erna.

  “Never mind!” called Walter. “You can never tell what you might step on. Better keep them on! Take care you don’t trip!”

  Locusts chirped, grasshoppers chattered, and suddenly, as if by signal, thousands of frogs began their evening serenade.

  “Who cries so loud?” Mo asked fearfully.

  “They are frogs,” called Gretel. “They are harmless.”

  “They are good frogs!” shouted Otto.

  “Boy, we are going great guns,” Willy observed happily.

  “Help!” Erna shrieked.

  “What’s the matter?” called Walter, and stopped in his tracks.

  “Help!” Erna howled again. She had fallen into a hole up to her waist. “Rescue me!” she wailed.

  Quickly Willy and Konrad grabbed her and pulled her out. There was a “pop” as though a cork had been pulled out of a bottle. Then they were on firm ground again.

  “Ugh, horrible!” she exclaimed with a shudder. “I’m all wet!”

  “What happened?” called Walter, who could not see through the tall grass.

  “A frog leaped at me and wanted to bite me!” yelled Erna. “I was so scared that I fell into a hole.”

  The others laughed, relieved that she was all right.

  “Fogs don’t bite, you sissy,” said Willy.

  “I can’t stand frogs!” Erna called angrily. She was quite miserable, soaked to the waist.

  “You’ll stay in line, even if a crocodile leaps at you!” scolded Walter, and plodded on.

  The others roared with laughter but were doubly careful not to fall into a hole themselves.

  “The forest! I can see the forest!” Lottie cried out jubilantly. A moment later Walter stepped onto firm ground and called happily, “Come on, come on! Here we are!”

  Mo, who had held onto his suspenders, also was clear of the swamp, and then Gretel, Willy, Erna, and Konrad appeared in quick succession. Ahead of them was a small, dry field and beyond it, finally, the Hollewood.

  Walter lifted Lottie off his back, stretched and straightened himself, and mopped his brow. “We did all right,” he said, taking a deep breath.

  Mo sat down in the grass and woefully inspected her pretty velvet slippers and her socks, which were wet and dirty. But Erna was much worse off, Her skirt was dripping, and everything under it was soaked too.

  “What shall I do?” she whimpered.

  “Nothing,” said Walter. “It will dry by itself.”

  The children sat down, took off their shoes and socks, and wrung them out as best they could. Then they pulled out some grass and tried to dry their feet with it. This didn’t help much, so they simply put their wet shoes and socks back on. Gretel was thankful that she was wearing her old sandals and no stockings.

  In a few minutes, Walter discovered that Otto was missing. “Where is Otto?” he called, and jumped up with a start.

  “He was close behind me,” said Konrad.

  “Otto!” Walter shouted with such force that his face grew red.

  “Otto! Otto!” howled the others in chorus.

  They listened anxiously, but there was only the croaking of the frogs and the hoarse call of three crows swooping across the swamp.

  Otto did not answer.

  Seventeen

  When You’re Dead, You’re Not Supposed to Yell

  Walter turned pale. “Otto, Otto, where are you?” he shouted again.

  “I’m sure he drowned,” wailed Erna, covering her face with her hands.

  “No! No!” Gretel wanted to run back into the swamp, but Walter held her back. “Are you crazy?” he shouted. “You stay here. I’ll look for Otto.” He dove head-first into the high grass just as Otto was emerging, and their heads collided with a bang.

  “Ouch!” Their voices sounded in unison.

  “Where were you?” snapped Walter, rubbing his forehead on which a great bump was beginning to swell. But he was delighted that Otto was safe.

  “I had a terrible experience,” said Otto hoarsely.

  “What happened?” the others asked excitedly, and gathered around him.

  “Tell, tell!” Willy called eagerly.

  Otto’s knees were a bit shaky, and he had to sit down. Then he began. “I had stopped to wipe off my glasses …”

  “Always those glasses!” Walter interrupted, shaking his head. “Some day they’ll be the death of you!”

  “When they are dirty, I have to clean them so I can see,” Otto objected, feeling hurt.

  “But that couldn’t have been so terrible?” exclaimed Konrad.

  “Dope!” said Otto. “That wasn’t so terrible, but I was just putting my glasses back on when a huge snake came rushing toward me out of the swamp …”

  “A snake!” Erna shrieked with a shudder.

  “Yes,” continued Otto. “It opened its mouth and stuck out its tongue.”

  “Jeepers!” groaned Gretel.

  “What did you do?” asked Willy.

  “I played dead,” said Otto. “I couldn’t run away in the swamp.”

  “Why didn’t you call for help?” asked Konrad.

  “When you’re dead, you’re not supposed to yell,” said Otto.

  “Was it a copperhead?” asked Willy, completely entranced.

  “How could I tell without my glasses,” replied Otto.

  “Did it bite you?” Walter asked anxiously.

  “No,” said Otto. “I didn’t stir, so it moved off and so did I.”

  “You were lucky to have found the way!” said Walter.

  “I saw your tracks,” Otto replied smugly.

  “Poor Otto!” said Gretel. Her hair was hanging over her face, and by now it had become so straggly that she could not control it.

  “We really thought you were dead,” said Willy.

  Mo, who was sitting in the grass, had listened with interest.

  “What is a copperhead?” she wanted to know.

  “A copperhead is a long, sleek animal without legs,” said Walter. “If it bites you, it makes you very sick.”

  “Why?” asked Mo.

  “It’s poisonous,” said Gretel.

  “What is poisonous?” asked Mo.

  “Poisonous is worse than biting,” said Otto.

  “Why does the animal do it?” asked Mo, and frowned.

  “It’s a very, very bad animal,” said Gretel.

  “Because it has no legs?” asked Mo.

  “No, not because of that,” said Walter. “It can run very well.”

  “One cannot run without legs,” said Mo.

  “Sure one can!” called Willy. “Look, I’ll show you!” He stretched out in the grass and wiggled like a snake.

  “That does not make you go very fast,” Mo said disapprovingly.

  “That’s because I’m not a real snake,” said Willy, discouraged.

  Walter looked up at the sky. “We can take a little rest,” he said. “The stars haven’t come out yet.” The truth was that he, too, was tired, and he felt like stretching out awhile. He threw himself on the soft ground, pulled out a blade of grass, and began to chew it. Then he folded his arms under his head and watched a hawk circling high above.

  The others followed his example and settled down. The field in which they lay was really most inviting. Bluebells grew everywhere. An occasional butterfly fluttered about, and from the forest came the twitter of birds. A cool breeze descended from the mountains to the south, sending soft ripples over the swamp grass. There was a rustling in the treetops and the smell of pine needles and sweet clover. Mo put her head in her hands and gazed off as if lost in dreams. To her, the Earth seemed pleasant again. Suddenly, she sat up and laughed merrily. “There sits a baby chicken!” she exclaimed. At the edge of the forest a finch, perched on a branch, was twittering to his heart’s content.

  “That’s no baby chicken; that’s a finch,” said Gretel.

  “What is a finch?” asked Mo.


  Walter spat out his blade of grass and groaned. “A finch is a bird. A bird has two legs and two wings. It also has a beak. The legs are so he can run, the wings are so he can fly, and the beak so he can eat. He also sings and lays eggs. The eggs are white and round. …”

  “Can it really fly?” asked Mo.

  Willy clapped his hands and the finch flew away. “You see how he can fly?” he called out.

  “He flies nicely,” said Mo, but she looked at Walter sadly.

  Walter noticed it, and he became embarrassed. He sat up and said softly, “Well, soon you’ll be flying away, Mo.”

  “Yes,” said Mo.

  “That’s a shame,” said Walter, blushing.

  Mo laughed again. “I’ll tell my friends all about you,” she promised.

  “I hope that it won’t be so far from the forest line to the big clearing where her father will come for her,” said Otto.

  “That’ll depend on where Asra will appear in the sky and in what direction we’ll have to proceed,” said Walter.

  “I can’t even walk now,” groaned Konrad.

  “If only Lottie can make it,” said Gretel.

  Lottie was curled up in the grass with her eyes closed.

  “Upon my word,” Gretel exclaimed. “She’s already fast asleep!”

  Lottie sat up with a jerk and forced her eyes open.

  “I’m not asleep!” she called out.

  “But you’re tired, aren’t you?” asked Gretel.

  “I’m not tired at all; I was just thinking of something,” said Lottie.

  “Of what?” asked Gretel.

  “Of something to eat,” said Lottie meekly.

  “Are you that hungry?” Gretel asked with concern. Lottie nodded.

  “Konrad,” called Walter. “Do you still have any caramels?”

  “Me?” said Konrad, sitting up. “I … I’ve only two left.”

  “Give them to Lottie,” ordered Walter.

  Konrad gave them to Lottie without any fuss. Then he took an apple out of his pocket and ravenously bit into it.

  “Where does this apple suddenly come from?” Walter asked suspiciously.

  “Oh, that,” smacked Konrad. “That’s my iron ration.”

  “That’s that half-eaten apple from the market, isn’t it?” asked Walter with a knowing grin.

  “It would only have turned rotten,” Konrad said uneasily. “I just picked it up.”

  Walter snatched the apple out of his hand. “Let’s have it!” he said.

  “Don’t throw it away,” Konrad cried out in dismay. “That would be a crime!”

  “Shut up!” said Walter. He broke the apple into eight parts and gave each a piece. “We’re all hungry,” he said.

  The children were glad to have something to eat, and even if it was not much, it tasted very good.

  Mo quickly ate her piece of the apple, but then she grew worried and said, “I hope my father will not scold me!”

  “Why should he scold you?” Gretel asked with curiosity.

  “My father told me that I am not allowed to eat on Earth,” Mo confessed feebly. “It could make me sick.”

  “Apples are good for you,” said Walter, trying to comfort her. “They have vitamins.”

  “What are vitamins?” asked Mo, looking timidly at Walter.

  “Vitamins are some stuff without which humans can’t live,” Walter explained to her, this time eagerly.

  “But I am not a human,” breathed Mo, and eyed the children cautiously.

  “But then what does your father eat when he comes to earth?” asked Otto.

  “He always carries pills with him,” said Mo.

  “Ugh, pills all taste nasty!” Erna said, and turned up her nose in disgust.

  “Our pills taste good,” said Mo.

  “You can have your Asra, if pills are all you have to eat there,” said Konrad.

  “Why do you always eat nothing but pills?” asked Willy.

  Mo was completely stumped. “Why, there is not anything else,” she said.

  The children would have loved to go on talking about Asra and the pills, but at that point they were attacked by a swarm of mosquitoes, which put an end to their rest.

  “Those horrible mosquitoes,” complained Erna, slapping herself wildly.

  “What a tiny little animal,” Mo remarked in fascination. A mosquito had alighted on her leg. Gretel quickly slapped it, and Mo was horrified. “Why did you hit that animal?” she cried out.

  “It stings,” said Gretel.

  “That is no reason to harm it,” Mo said reproachfully. Large or small, an animal was an animal to her.

  “Such a small animal is no animal,” said Otto.

  “Let’s get away from here,” ordered Walter. “The mosquitoes are worse near the swamp.”

  They went along the edge of the forest for a short distance until they came to a trail.

  “This must be the continuation of the field path,” Walter guessed.

  “Will that take us to the Easter path?” Otto asked skeptically.

  “Yes,” said Walter, and scanned the sky. “The field path heads due west; we’re bound to hit the Easter path.”

  “How do you know which direction is west?” asked Erna.

  “Way over there the sky is red. Where the sun sets is west,” said Walter.

  Walter went ahead and the others followed, again in single file, as the path was very narrow. It wound through thick underbrush of young spruce and shrubs.

  “Ouch! Be careful!” yelled Gretel. “Dope!”

  Otto had bent back a twig, and when he let go, it snapped in her face.

  “Why don’t you watch it!” said Otto.

  “Don’t follow one another so closely!” called Walter. “Otto, Willy, Konrad, you three break the twigs right and left so that they hang down!”

  “Why?” asked Willy.

  “That way we’ll know that we’ve been through here before, in case we have to retrace our steps to find another trail.”

  “A lot of work, this breaking off the twigs,” complained Konrad.

  “Eeks, a cobweb just got into my hair!” shrieked Erna.

  “Holy cats!” cried Otto. “My glasses fell off!” He wanted to break a very thick branch. When he let go, it whipped back and knocked off his glasses.

  “My glasses!” howled Otto in despair.

  “Look for them; we’ll wait!” called Walter.

  “How can I look for them if I’m not wearing them?” Otto called back.

  Willy, Erna, and Gretel crawled all around searching for Otto’s glasses.

  “I found them,” called Willy.

  “Where are they?” asked Otto.

  “I’ve stepped on them!” Willy called triumphantly.

  “Then I’m lost!” Otto cried in dismay.

  But the glasses were undamaged—by luck they had dropped on a rotten mushroom, which lay squashed on the ground.

  Otto cleaned them with tenderness as Walter grew impatient.

  “Why can’t you clean them while we walk?” he growled.

  “If I can’t see, I can’t walk,” insisted Otto. Nevertheless he put them on and continued on his way. But after a few steps he again shouted, “Stop!”

  “What the devil is the matter now?” called Walter.

  “They stink!” cried Otto.

  “Who stinks?” yelled Walter.

  “My glasses!” yelled Otto.

  “Let them stink,” Walter shouted furiously, “as long as you can see something!” He quickly moved on and paid no attention to Otto. The others followed, and Otto had to put up with the smell of his glasses in order not to fall behind.

  The trail came to an end abruptly, and a steep wall of rock hindered their progress. It extended from north to south.

  “What’ll we do now?” asked Otto. He finally took off his glasses, spat on them with fervor, and polished them feverishly.

  “Looks pretty steep,” Walter said, taken aback.

  “You�
�re not going to get me up there,” murmured Konrad.

  “Boy, that’s a cinch!” announced Willy, and with that he crawled up the wall like a mountain goat. But he bumped his head against a short, stubby branch, and his hat got pushed over his eyes. With nothing but a handgrip, he dangled on the wall, wiggling with his feet trying to get a toehold.

  “Where am I?” he shouted. “I can’t see a thing any more!”

  Walter climbed up to him, pushed his hat into place, and then both descended.

  “Quit playing the hero,” Walter snarled at him.

  “I’ve climbed the Thunderpeak all by myself,” said Willy.

  “That’s not true!” cried Erna. “You did not.”

  Willy just stared at his battered hat. To make matters worse, it now had a deep tear. “A fine mess,” he murmured.

  “We should go back and look for another trail,” said Otto.

  “There wasn’t any,” Walter answered.

  “I broke three branches,” complained Konrad.

  Walter walked along the wall of rock to study it more closely. He disappeared behind a corner, and suddenly the children heard him call, “There are steps here! They’re quite easy!”

  A sort of staircase, hewn into the rock, led them in a zigzag to the top. It even had a primitive handrail. The children climbed rapidly, but when they reached the top, they discovered that they were standing on a plateau that dropped off steeply on all sides. There was no sign of a trail or steps. Below them lay a thickly wooded gorge hemmed in by precipitous rock walls, and in between they saw only an impenetrable ocean of treetops.

  “The Easter path can’t be down there,” said Walter in a discouraged voice.

  “Now we’re licked,” said Otto with a heavy sigh.

  Speechless, they stared into the black abyss.

  Eighteen

  Not Wide Enough for a Pencil

  “We ought to go home,” Konrad said with a surly grunt.

  “Go ahead then!” Walter challenged him angrily.

  “I couldn’t get through the swamp alone,” Konrad murmured meekly.

  “Those rock walls over there don’t look so bad,” Willy said. “Perhaps the Easter path is just beyond them.”

  “We’ll never make it with Mo and Lottie,” said Walter.

  “Shall I climb down to the gorge?” asked Willy.