Fierce eyes had been watching the little camp for an hour and more,
glaring out on the sunny glade from the dark depths of a forest tree not
far off; out from under a cloudland of waving foliage that rustled in
the balmy wind. Watching, and watching unwaveringly, Peggy, while she
read; watching the sleeping Roland; the great wolf-hound, Brawn; and
watching the ponies too.
Ever and anon these last would come closer to the tree, as they nibbled
grass or moss, then those fierce eyes burned more fiercely, and the
cat-like tail of a monster jaguar moved uneasily as if the wild beast
meditated a spring.
But the ponies, sniffing danger in the air, perhaps--who can
tell?--would toss their manes and retreat to the shadow of the rocks.
Had the dog not been there the beast would have dared all, and sprung at
once on one of those nimble steeds.
But he waited and watched, watched and waited, and at long last his time
came. With a coughing roar he now launched himself into the air, the
elasticity of the branch giving greater force to his spring.
Straight on the shoulders or back of poor Boz he alighted. His talons
were well driven home, his white teeth were preparing to tear the flesh
from the pony's neck.
Both little steeds yelled wildly, and in nightmarish terror.
Up sprang Brawn, the wolf-hound, and dashed on to the rescue.
Peggy seized her loaded rifle and hurried after him.
Thoroughly awake now, and fully cognizant of the terrible danger, Roland
too was quickly on the scene of action.
To fire at a distance were madness. He might have missed the struggling
lion and shot poor Boz, or even faithful Brawn.
This enormous dog had seized the beast by one hock, and with his paws
against the pony was endeavouring to tear the monster off.
The noise, the movement, the terror, caused poor Roland's head to whirl.
He felt dazed, and almost stupid.
Ah! but Peggy was clear-headed, and a brave and fearless child was she.
Her feet seemed hardly to touch the moss, so lightly did she spring
along.
Her little rifle was cocked and ready, and, taking advantage of a few
seconds' lull in the fearful scrimmage, she fired at five yards'
distance.
The bullet found billet behind the monster's ear, his grip relaxed, and
now Brawn tore him easily from his perch and finished him off on the
ground, with awful din and habbering.
Then, with blood-dripping jaws he came with his ears lower, half
apologetically, to receive the praise and caresses of his master and
mistress.
But though the adventure ended thus happily, frightened beyond measure,
the ponies, Coz and Boz, had taken to the bush and disappeared.
Knowing well the danger of the situation, Roland and Peggy, with Brawn,
tried to follow them. But Irish wolf-hounds have but little scent, and
so they searched and searched in vain, and returned at last to the
sun-kissed glade.
It was now well on towards three o'clock, and as they had a long forest
stretch of at least ten miles before them ere they could touch the banks
of the great queen of waters, Roland determined, with the aid of his
compass, to strike at once into the beast-trodden pathway by which they
had come, and make all haste homewards before the sun should set and
darkness envelop the gloomy forest.
"Keep up your heart, Peggy; if your courage and your feet hold out we
shall reach the river before dusk."
"I'm not so frightened now," said Peggy; but her lips were very
tremulous, and tears stood in her eyes.
"Come, come," she cried, "let us hurry on! Come, Brawn, good dog!"
Brawn leapt up to lick her ear, and taking no thought for the skin of
the jaguar, which in more favourable circumstances would have been borne
away as a trophy, and proof of Peggy's valour, they now took to the bush
in earnest.
Roland looked at his watch.
"Three hours of light and more. Ah! we can do it, if we do not lose our
way."
So off they set.
Roland took the lead, rifle in hand, Peggy came next, and brave Brawn
brought up the rear.
They were compelled to walk in single file, for the pathways were so
narrow in places that two could not have gone abreast.
Roland made constant reference to his little compass, always assuring
his companion that they were still heading directly for the river.
They had hurried on for nearly an hour, when Roland suddenly paused.
A huge dark monster had leapt clear and clean across the pathway some
distance ahead, and taken refuge in a tree.
It was, no doubt, another jaguar, and to advance unannounced might mean
certain death to one of the three.
"Are you all loaded, Peggy?" said Roland.
"Every chamber!" replied the girl.
There was no tremor about her now; and no backwoods Indian could have
acted more coolly and courageously.
"Blaze away at that tree then, Peg."
Peggy opened fire, throwing in three or four shots in rapid succession.
The beast, with a terrible cry, darted out of the tree and came rushing
along to meet and fight the little party.
"Down, Brawn, down! To heel, sir!"
Next moment Roland fired, and with a terrible shriek the jaguar took to
the bush, wounded and bleeding, and was seen no more.
But his yells had awakened the echoes of the forest, and for more than
five minutes the din of roaring, growling, and shrieking was fearful.
Wild birds, no doubt, helped to swell the pandemonium.
After a time, however, all was still once more, and the journey was
continued in silence.
Even Peggy, usually the first to commence a conversation, felt in no
mood for talking now.
She was very tired. Her feet ached, her brow was hot, and her eyes felt
as if boiling in their sockets.
Roland had filled his large flask at the little waterfall before leaving
the glade, and he now made her drink.
The draught seemed to renew her strength, and she struggled on as
bravely as ever.
----
Just two and a half hours after they had left the forest clearing, and
when Roland was holding out hopes that they should soon reach the road
by the banks of the river, much to their astonishment they found
themselves in a strange clearing which they had never seen before.
The very pathway ended here, and though the boy went round and round the
circle, he could find no exit.
To retrace his steps and try to find out the right path was the first
thought that occurred to Roland.
This plan was tried, but tried in vain, and so--weary and hopeless now
beyond measure--they returned to the centre of the glade and threw
themselves down on the soft green moss.
Lost! Lost!
The words kept repeating themselves in poor Roland's brain, but Peggy's
fatigue was so complete that she preferred rest even in the midst of
danger to going farther.
Brawn, heaving a great sigh, laid himself down beside them.
The warm day wore rapidly to a close, and at last the sun shimmered red
through the forest trees.
Then it sank.
The briefest of twilight, and the stars shone out.
Two hours of starlight, then solemnly uprose the round moon and flooded
all the glade, draping the whispering trees in a blue glare, beautifully
etherealizing them.
Sorrow bringeth sleep.
"Good-night, Rolly! Say your prayers," murmured Peggy.
There were stars in the sky. There were stars too that flitted from
bush to bush, while the winds made murmuring music among the lofty
branches.
Peggy was repeating to herself lines that she had read that very day:
..."the firefly Wah-wah-tay-see,
Flitting through the dusk of evening,
With the twinkle of its candle,
Lighting up the brakes and bushes.
* * * * *
Wah-wah-tay-see, little firefly,
Little, flitting, white-fire insect,
Little dancing, white-fire creature,
Light me with your little candle.
Ere upon my bed I lay me,
Ere in sleep I close my eyelids."
----
The forest was unusually silent to-night, but ever and anon might be
heard some distant growl showing that the woods sheltered the wildest
beasts. Or an owl with mournful cry would flap its silent wings as it
flew across the clearing.
But nothing waked those tired and weary sleepers.
So the night wore on and on. The moon had reached the zenith, and was
shining now with a lustre that almost rivalled daylight itself.
It must have been well on towards two o'clock in the morning when Brawn
emitted a low and threatening growl.
This aroused both Roland and Peggy, and the former at once seized his
rifle.
Standing there in the pale moonlight, not twenty yards away, was a tall,
dark-skinned, and powerful-looking Indian. In his right hand he held a
spear or something resembling one; in his left a huge catapult or sling.
He was dressed for comfort--certainly not for ornament. Leggings or
galligaskins covered his lower extremities, while his body was wrapped
in a blanket. He had no head-covering, save a matted mass of hair, in
which were stuck a few feathers.
Roland took all this in at a glance as he seized his rifle and prepared
for eventualities. According to the traditional painter of Indian life
and customs the proper thing for this savage to have said is "Ugh!" He
said nothing of the sort. Nor did he give vent to a whoop and yell that
would have awakened the wild birds and beasts of the forest and every
echo far and near.
"Who goes there?" cried Roland, raising his gun.
"No shootee. No shootee poor Indian man. I friendee you. Plenty
friendee."
Probably there was a little romance about Roland, for, instead of
saying: "Come this way then, old chap, squat down and give us the news,"
he said sternly:
"Advance, friend!"
But the Indian stood like a statue.
"No undahstandee foh true."
And Roland had to climb down and say simply:
"Come here, friend, and speak."
Brawn rushed forward now, but he looked a terror, for his hair was all
on end like a hyena's, and he growled low but fiercely.
"Down, Brawn! It's a good man, Brawn."
Brawn smelt the Indian's hand, and, seeming satisfied, went back to the
spot where Peggy sat wondering and frightened.
She gathered the great dog to her breast and hugged and kissed him.
"What foh you poh chillun sleepee all in de wood so? S'pose wild beas'
come eatee you, w'at den you do?"
"But, friend," replied Roland, "we are far from Burnley Hall, our home,
and we have lost everything. We have lost our ponies, lost our way, and
lost ourselves."
"Poh chillun!" said this strange being. "But now go sleepee foh true.
De Indian he lie on blanket. He watchee till de big sun rise."
"Can we trust him, Peggy?"
"Oh yes, yes!" returned Peggy. "He is a dear, good man; I know by his
voice."
In ten minutes more the boy and girl were fast asleep.
The Indian watched.
And Brawn watched the Indian.
----
When the sun went down on the previous evening, and there were no signs
of the young folks returning, both Mr. St. Clair and his wife became
very uneasy indeed.
Then two long hours of darkness ensued before the moon sailed up, first
reddening, then silvering, the wavelets and ripples on the great river.
"Surely some evil must have befallen them," moaned Mrs. St. Clair. "Oh,
my Roland! my son! I may never see you more. Is there nothing can be
done? Tell me! Tell me!"
"We must trust in Providence, Mary; and it is wrong to mourn. I doubt
not the children are safe, although perhaps they have lost their way in
the woods."
Hours of anxious waiting went by, and it was nearly midnight. The house
was very quiet and still, for the servants were asleep.
Burly Bill and Jake had mounted strong horses at moonrise, and gone off
to try to find a clue. But they knew it was in vain, nay, 'twould have
been sheer madness to enter the forest now. They coo-eed over and over
again, but their only answer was the echoing shriek of the wild birds.
They were just about to return after giving their last shrill coo-ee-ee,
when out from the moonlit forest, with a fond whinny, sprang Coz and
Boz.
Jake sprang out of his saddle, throwing his bridle to Bill.
In the bright moonlight, Jake could see at once that there was something
wrong. He placed his hand on Boz's shoulder. He staggered back as he
withdrew it.
"Oh, Bill," he cried, "here is blood, and the pony is torn and bleeding!
Only a jaguar could have done this. This is terrible."
"Let us return at once," said Bill, who had a right soft heart of his
own behind his burly chest.
"But oh!" he added, "how can we break the news to Roland's parents?"
"We'll give them hope. Mrs. St. Clair must know nothing yet, but at
early dawn all the ranch must be aroused, and we shall search the forest
for miles and miles."
----
Jake, after seeing the ponies safe in their stable, left Bill to look to
Boz's wounds, while with St. Clair's leave he himself set off at a round
gallop to get assistance from a neighbouring ranch.
Day had not yet broken ere forty good men and true were on the
bridle-path and tearing along the river's banks. St. Clair himself was
at their head.
I must leave the reader to imagine the joy of all the party when soon
after sunrise there emerged from the forest, guided by the strange
Indian, Roland, Peggy, and noble Brawn, all looking as fresh as the dew
on the tender-eyed hibiscus bloom or the wild flowers that nodded by the
river's brim.
"Wirr--rr--r--wouff, wouff, wouff!" barked Brawn, as he bounded forward
with joy in every feature of his noble face, and I declare to you there
seemed to be a lump in his throat, and the sound of his barking was
half-hysterical.
St. Clair could not utter a word as he fondly embraced the children. He
pretended to scold a little, but this was all bluff, and simply a ruse
to keep back the tears.
But soft-hearted Burly Bill was less successful. He just managed to drop
a little to the rear, and it was not once only that he was fain to draw
the sleeve of his rough jacket across his eyes.
----
But now they are mounted, and the horses' heads are turned homewards.
Peggy is seated in front of Burly Bill, of whom she is very fond, and
Roland is saddled with Jake. The Indian and Brawn ran.
Poor Mrs. St. Clair, at the big lawn gate, gazing westward, sees the
cavalcade far away on the horizon.
Presently, borne along on the morning breeze come voices raised in a
brave and joyous song:
"Down with them, down with the lords of the forest".
And she knows her boy and Peggy are safe.
"Thank God for all his mercies!" she says fervently, then, woman-like,
bursts into tears.