Again Mrs. Eigleen burst out with: "But why didn't you go right _to_ the sound?"

"Dear wife," said Mr. Eigleen, "we couldn't, because directly in

front of that sound there was a very steep rocky slope--you know

very well the slope of Eiki-ennern Peak."

"Well," said Mrs.

Eigleen, "if the voice came from behind that slope, Eepersip must have

got to the top of Eiki-ennern Peak somehow, and if _she_ did,

_you_ can. Wait with us a while and have lunch, and then go and

try to find her again, and I will come with you."

"All right," said Mr. Eigleen.

Accordingly, after lunch all three started

off on a fresh quest. They searched the little glade high and low

once more, but with the same ill luck. Really Eepersip saw them all

the time, but while they were here she was there, and while they were

there she was here, all the time keeping out of sight behind bushes

and trees: And when she rustled the leaves and they heard her, they

thought that it was just the breezes making commotion in the leaves

and grass.

Before they had hunted very long Mrs. Eigleen had

to admit that the new game was harder than it looked; yet she didn't

give it up, for her greatest hope was to have Eepersip back again. At

length Eepersip lost sight of them and, thinking that they had gone,

she began to sing. They all started, and began to run in the direction

of the voice. This time they didn't hesitate to go right up the steep

slope of Eiki-ennern Peak. Mrs. Eigleen leading, they all three dashed

up, with not a thought of the brambles that they were getting into.

When they got to the top, what a sight met their puzzled eyes! There

was Eepersip dancing to her own singing, and ever and again she looked

up at a little butterfly which fluttered over her head, and curtseyed

before it. Great waves of happiness were flowing through her all the

time. They made no effort to call her, but only stood enchanted until

she danced off to the field. Then they quickly walked away. First

they went back to their own little cottage and collected some of the

important belongings which they had left there. Next they went on to

the Wraspanes' house and got the tent and other necessary things. Then,

with the Ikkisfields and the Wraspanes, they started off for the top

of Eiki-ennern Peak.

They pitched the tent rather far from the

pool, but very near where they had seen Eepersip, on top of the hill.

Now the next problem was to make the plans; and as soon as the tent

was up they gathered together and began to think up ways and means.

But Mr. Eigleen said: "Let us go on an exploration and discover some

of Eepersip's habits. Let us all wander around a while, and when we

discover what sort of habits Eepersip has got into, we can make our

plans accordingly; for we can't make plans until we _do_ know

some of her habits."

All approved of what he had said, and

everybody prepared himself for a long walk, interrupted at times by

hiding and lurking, peeping and sneaking. So each person had a bite

to eat and set off to explore the surroundings. They hunted high and

low, but never saw a sign of Eepersip--never had a chance to peep and

sneak. That evening however, while they were talking things over, they

heard another burst of singing. They leaped to their feet and, taking

a big lantern, all started out of the tent. In the direction of the

singing they went on, trying to walk rather fast, but also trying not

to step on many leaves or dry twigs so as to make a noise; and when

they talked it was in the softest whisper. The singing sounded nearer

and nearer; but they could not see very well without the lantern (which

they didn't light yet for fear of frightening Eepersip away); it was

darkening rapidly, and things were very dim. At last the singing grew

so loud and so near that they felt almost as if they were about to run

into it. And so they actually did; for Eepersip, who had all the time

been approaching them as they approached her, went right between the

Ikkisfields, startling them so that they didn't know what to do! Mr.

Ikkisfield managed to put out his hand and grab her dress, calling

for someone to come and help him hold her. But by this time Eepersip

had discarded her real dress and had woven one of ferns for herself;

and, the ferns being interlaced rather loosely, the one Mr. Ikkisfield

caught hold of tore away. Quick as a flash Eepersip bounded away into

the night. Thus their first chance of catching her slipped between

their fingers. They went back to the tent rather discouraged.

Now the deer in the great field knew Eepersip, and they all loved

her, because she was so kind to them. Even the little fawns loved

her and made no attempt to run away when she appeared. Twilight and

dawn, when the deer were all lying down, were her favourite times in

the field. Then she would dance about in her fern dress, singing so

sweetly that all the birds watched her. She began to love the birds

and butterflies even more than in the first days of her wildness,

and almost worshipped them.

The morning after this curious

face-to-face meeting with Eepersip, Mr. Eigleen spoke about another

plan. "Eepersip every morning comes up from wherever she sleeps to

get a drink of water from the little pool. Now do you know that big

pine-tree that stands beside the pool?"

"Yes," said Mrs. Eigleen.

"Well, I will go and hide behind that tree tomorrow

morning, and when she comes up to the pool I will try to catch her

by jumping out at her when she comes by."

"Why do you not do it this morning?" inquired Mrs. Ikkisfield.

"Well, you see," replied Mr. Eigleen, "she has

had her morning drink, for I saw her as I was getting out of bed."

"I see," said Mrs. Ikkisfield.

"But be sure that you get up in time next morning."

"I will," said Mr. Eigleen. "But if you're up and awake before I am, be sure

to pull me by my left ear."

Eepersip was becoming more wary, now

she had discovered that they were trying to catch her. But still she

took it as a sort of joke. In the first place, she thought she could

easily escape again if they did catch her. But she very much doubted if

they could do it. For hours every day she practised running, leaping,

dancing, and prowling, until she was as fleet as a deer and as soft

on her feet as a lynx. She had practised leaping over high objects,

and if someone were chasing her she could now escape being cornered by

jumping a fence. She had trained herself until, even without a running

start, she could clear the back of a standing fawn, or, with a start,

a large buck standing full height. All these exercises made her light

as a feather and graceful as a fern.

The next morning when Mr.

Eigleen woke up, there was hardly a ray of light, but dawn was breaking

out here and there. Mr. Eigleen got all ready for an exciting morning.

Without waking anybody, he seated himself out in front of the tent, on

the side next the field, in such a position that he could see Eepersip

when she came up, and where he could pull-to the front flap immediately

and bolt out the back way to the tree by the pool without her seeing

him. He waited a few minutes, and then he saw her head bobbing up the

bank. Hurriedly he closed the front flap before she saw him. Slipping

out the other end and round in a long curve, he ran at full speed to

the pool and hid behind the big pine. Now it was at the foot of the

pine that Eepersip usually stooped over to drink, because there the

water was deeper and clearer. When Eepersip came up the bank, she

stared curiously at the ten, thinking: "What! are my parents still

here?" Then on she went to the pool. She approached it in a roundabout

direction, her face drawn with suspicion; but, as usual, her route

ended at the gnarled roots of the big pine--no instinct could draw

her away from it.

Mr. Eigleen stirred the leaves gently as she

bent over. She lay down flat by the tree, cupped her hands, and began

to drink. Very quietly Mr. Eigleen put his hands on her, one on either

shoulder, knowing that her dress of ferns would tear. She started,

and struggled so violently that his hands relaxed their grip on her

shoulders, sliding down her arms, so that they were now hand in hand.

That was all Eepersip needed. With a tremendous sweep she took her

feet off the ground, dragging down on his arms with all her weight and

strength. Mr. Eigleen couldn't relax either of his hands, for she now

held them fast. With another sweep she put her feet up on his shoulders

and over his head; then, wrenching her own hands free, she slid down

his back and slipped before he could seize her.

When Mr. Eigleen

went home everyone was surprised at this acrobatic adventure.

Mrs. Eigleen made a plan now. "Sometime at midnight," she said,

"we could take a covered lantern and go down on the meadow to try to

find out where Eepersip sleeps. I know the meadow is very large, but

common sense tells me that she would sleep near the woods; so to-morrow

night let's go and try to find her."

"Er--er--I don't know,"

replied Mr. Eigleen. "I'm a little bit afraid of that meadow, such

curious things are happening there all the time."

"What has

happened yet?" snapped Mrs. Eigleen. "You're an old coward, you are.

I'd go in a minute, to save Eepersip."

"So'd I, so'd I," said

Mr. Eigleen, hurriedly. "I only think that there is some curious magic

about that field."

"I agree with you there," said Mrs. Eigleen.

"But, as I said before, when it comes to saving Eepersip I'd go into

thicker magic than there is in the field."

So they planned to

get up a little after midnight and circle the field near the edge of

the woods; and as there were six of them, Eepersip wouldn't have much

chance of escaping if they once got their hands on her. That evening

they ate a light supper and went to bed early, and about one o'clock

they got up and went out into the great field with a hooded lantern.

They circled around it; and at last they found Eepersip hidden in the

bushes on the farther edge. Very gently all six laid hands upon her

at once.

"Ah, we've captured her!" they cried triumphantly.

"Our labours have been rewarded!"

But Eepersip, finding herself

caught, became angry, and cried in a loud, commanding voice: "Put me

down! Drop me immediately!" She added quietly to herself: "Now it's all

over."

Then she began to struggle very violently indeed. They

had hold of her securely, and so her struggles were in vain. But just

as they carried her past a sleeping doe which had no fawn, she uttered

a shrill, wild cry; and this so startled the six that they almost

dropped her. The doe woke up; and though she was afraid for herself,

she was more afraid for Eepersip. She came galloping after them.

To see the doe galloping swiftly toward them naturally startled old

Mrs. Ikkisfield, who supposed that all wild animals would flee at the

sight of a human being. That was so generally--but not when Eepersip

was in danger! Now, Mrs. Ikkisfield had hold of the most important part

of Eepersip's anatomy, though no one suspected it at the time--namely,

her feet. Mrs. Ikkisfield dropped them, and for the fraction of an

instant which Eepersip needed they were allowed to touch the ground.

Eepersip wrenched herself free and leaped to the back of the trembling,

excited creature, and they bounded away quick as a flash. The others,

agitated, turned to chase the doe; but she, with Eepersip on her

back, had vanished.

"Whew, that was a narrow escape!" Eepersip

whispered in one of the doe's long ears, as they lay down together.

The next day it rained hard. Eepersip's parents and their friends

spent much time making plans for a day when they could go out. Mrs.

Ikkisfield now made a suggestion

"It is," she said, "very like

the plan that we tried last night--namely, to find Eepersip while she

is sleeping. But we must have more people, more people! If we can get

some friends from the village at the foot of the mountain, they can

drive the deer that we meet away from the people that are carrying

Eepersip. In that way she cannot be saved by deer."

"That is

true," said Mrs. Eigleen; "but, you know, often an angry herd of deer

is a terrible thing to drive back."

"I know that," said Mrs.

Ikkisfield. "But we might be able to keep them cool--keep them from

getting angry. However, let's make some other plans now. That is not

a very good one."

"I was thinking," said Mrs. Wraspane, "if we

could only get Eepersip into a small fenced-in area where we could

catch her. But I have it: let us find Eepersip in her sleep again, and

carry her to the tent in a roundabout route through the woods, chopping

the bushes as we go, where there aren't so many deer, and where it will

be harder for them to rescue her."

"Great idea!" cried Mrs.

Ikkisfield.

So that is what they all planned to do, the next

sunny day.

While they had been conversing in this manner,

Eepersip had been sitting in the woods, with a little fawn and its

mother for company; and she had been feeding the fawn handfuls of grass

and gazing into its gentle eyes. Late in the evening it cleared off

and there were promises of a beautiful day to-morrow. And so it was.

The sun began to rise slowly, producing wonderful colours--first the

most delicate shades of apple-blossom pink; darker on the horizon, and

shading off into a pale buttercup yellow. And Eepersip, as she awoke,

saw that the meadow was dotted with dark forms which could just be

distinguished --the deer were all lying down.

Eepersip skipped

up to the pool to get her morning drink, first spying all around and

especially behind every tree. No one was to be seen, for no one was

up yet. Eepersip drank her fill; then she breakfasted on the sweet

root of the little three-leaved plant with a white blossom, her usual

food. After that she went down to the meadow, beginning to dance and

sing as soon as she got there. The deer were now beginning to rise,

and as she danced she kissed each one.

When the sun had dried

the raindrops and the dew, the families started out to the great field

to see what they could discover. The first thing they saw when they

got to the edge of the slope was Eepersip skipping around. Then they

saw her dance off to the woods and gather some long green branches and

blossoms. Very soon she came back to the field, went over to a sleeping

doe, and crowned her with the branches; upon which the doe got up and

licked Eepersip's cheek. She danced about in her delight. She was so

beautiful, so graceful, that when her parents saw her they were amazed

at the way in which her dancing and leaping had improved.

Now,

during the days in which Eepersip had been growing wild she had made

friends with another chipmunk, who was even more fond of her than the

one by the pool had been. The Eigleens and their friends now saw him

scutter out of the woods and frolic around Eepersip. Last of all they

saw Eepersip lie down on the grass to gaze at the sky.

"This

would be a splendid opportunity for catching her," muttered Mr.

Ikkisfield to Mr. Eigleen, as they looked at her.

"Hm! that's

just what I was thinking," whispered Mr. Eigleen in reply. "Suppose we

go out in the field and try."

They all tiptoed down the slope

and out into the field, where they immediately laid hands on Eepersip

once more. She started violently and cried out to the doe who was near.

The doe dashed up, but did not succeed in rescuing Eepersip, for Mrs.

Ikkisfield ran to hold her back.

"Never mind Eepersip--Mr.

Eigleen and Mr. Wraspane can do that. Hold back the deer!" thundered

Mrs. Eigleen, a slow red rising to her face. They all flew at the poor

creature, except the two who were holding the struggling Eepersip.

Off fled the doe; and then the others could help with Eepersip. The

doe ran on to get help from her mate. Back they came in no time, for

a deer is one of the swiftest runners in the world. The buck flew at

Eepersip's captors--just too late, for the others had succeeded in

getting Eepersip safely into the tent.

But what could they do

with her? How could they keep her securely? And, even so, if she was

going to continue acting wildly, how much better off were they with

her? This was a new question, which no one had thought of. But they

decided that, if they could keep her safely, she would become tamed

and civilized again. The question of security was the most important

just then. Better go home immediately and take Eepersip with them,

later returning for their tent and their belongings. This they did,

locking Eepersip in the house while they were getting their things;

and as they went they rejoiced.

But now all the deer of the

field, knowing that Eepersip, their beloved queen, had been taken from

them, put their heads together. They intended to rescue her while her

father and mother were sleeping, if they could only find where she had

been taken. While they were lying down and thinking about it, a fawn

came running up and poked its mother. It had followed softly, and knew

just where Eepersip was kept. They all lay down to wait for the coming

of night. At last evening came, and the deer fell asleep, leaving a

night-watchman to arouse them later when the full moon was at its

zenith. When the watchman signalled they arose and, with the little

fawn leading, went down toward the Wraspanes' house. Eepersip was

allowed to sleep out on the porch, but all its glass doors were closed

and locked against her. The fawn led them straight to this place.

Eepersip could not go to sleep; she sat on the floor, whining softly

in her misery. One of the bucks knocked gently on the glass door with

his antler. Eepersip turned; a smile crept over her face at the sight

of her beloved comrades. The buck, as softly as he could, broke one

of the glass doors, wood and all. Then the deer, all except the fawn,

bounded off to the field again.

The sound of breaking glass

reached the ears of Mr. Ikkisfield, who was awake, all too late; for

by the time he had wakened the others--which he did by shouting "Get

up! get up! Sounds like high doings out there!"--Eepersip, on the

little fawn's back, had vanished toward the field. The families, when

they got to the porch, found only the broken door. Though they heard

trampling hoofs, they knew that it would be of no use to follow.

The families, after that adventure, were desperate; and they decided

not to make any more plans just then, for winter was coming on rapidly,

but to stay at the house until the next summer.

As for

Eepersip, well, she was mighty glad to have got away unhurt. Happy

again, she was soon sound asleep in the woods on the edge of the field,

cuddled up underneath the doe which had saved her before. She wasn't

sure how to get along through the winter safely, but she had had such a

splendid summer that she knew it would be foolish to give up her wild

life now. She could manage somehow.

And so she did. She found

that her parents had left her own heavy winter coat in the place where

they had once found her sleeping; and this would be very helpful to

her, she thought. She was also glad to realize that her parents, much

though they wanted to get her back, didn't wish her to perish in the

cold of winter. "They _are_ nice people, after all!" she thought

to herself.

With the coat and the prospect of warmth, there

came a delightful idea into her head. On the edge of the meadow there

was an old dilapidated fox-hole. It was very large already; and after

about ten days of hard work Eepersip found that the passages could be

made exactly large enough for her to crawl into. The earth was so loose

and mouldy that it came away without difficulty. She crept down the

tunnel a long way, digging as she went. Presently she came to a snug

bedroom about five feet square and four and a half high, which was a

little less than her own height. But she did not mind stooping, as long

as she had this cunning room; besides, she could dig away the ceiling

if she wanted to. The room was old and dirty, but Eepersip lined it

entirely with grass. Digging around, in one corner she came upon a

little packet made of leaves. Inside it were a few cordary-berries

seeds![1] She wondered who had made this packet--who had lived in this

burrow before her. A person, of that she was sure. These seeds had not by any

means rotted; they were still as moist and sweet as ever, and Eepersip rejoiced

to them. Digging around some more, she discovered a small square block of

wood. Lifting it up, she found great heaps of milkweed pods, kept from

springing open by the pressure of the earth against them. She rejoiced

in this too. There was enough of the milkweed to make a bed for

herself. She covered the bed with her old dress, which she had kept all

this time in case she should need it. Never was such a soft bed seen.

In the burrow she also built several shelves of boards, and on these

she heaped up more cordary berries and their seeds, which were just

beginning to come.

[1] The cordary berry grows during

the winter and is at its best at New Year. The seeds have sweet meats.

The berries are bright red, and the seeds dark purple, running over

inside with sweet juice which keeps the kernel moist.

The next day was the last of November. In the

morning Eepersip, after a long sleep in the burrow, woke up to find the

world white with the first snow. The entrance of the tunnel was placed

at such an angle that never a flake found its way down in. Eepersip

was delighted; she danced and skipped about, with the chipmunk at her

heels.

The next day it stopped snowing, and the sun came out,

shining dimly. Every snow-crystal sparkled like a diamond. Eepersip and

the chipmunk dashed across the meadow and looked far, far down. Though

ordinary eyes could not have seen to the end of this mass of glittering

whiteness, Eepersip's could, and beyond all the icicles and snowflakes

she saw the river calmly shining, blue as the sky. In its rippling

surface Eepersip could see the very reflection of the sun breaking out

through a cloud. The meadow was beautiful even when the sun was dim,

but nothing to what it was now!

Eepersip could see every colour

of the rainbow reflected in each crystal--orange, purple, green, blue,

red, and many, many iridescent tints. Full of joy, she looked down upon

the river once more, through the glittering iridescence. The longer she

looked, the better she could see the river. But at last the sun went

in again; it had been out hardly long enough to melt one snowflake.

Everywhere round Eepersip went the chipmunk's little footprints, for

he had shared her delight. At last, when Eepersip wanted to go back

to her subterranean shelter, the chipmunk hung back and whimpered.

Eepersip saw that he wanted to stay; and knowing that he could find

his way, she left him behind and went back to the burrow herself.

But he didn't come back. She waited and waited and often called,

but he did not appear. "What can have happened to my little friend?"

she thought. At last she set out to look for him, calling as she went.

She looked in every crevice, to see whether something had frightened

him and he had plunged into some hiding-place. But she did not find

him. At last, whistling and calling, she came near to where she had

left him, on the edge of the meadow. Then what did she see in the snow

but footprints--human footprints! Chippy's little tracks had started

back in the direction of the burrow, but the strange footprints came

towards his and overtook them--and at that point his suddenly left

off. Then she discovered the others going down the hill again. It was

only too clear--Chippy had been captured!

Eepersip sat down

in the snow and wept. But suddenly she straightened up and became

herself again. Why not follow those footprints down the hill and get

her Chippy back? With a hopeful heart she dashed down, following the

tracks. But she came into a small village, where she was afraid of

being caught. She could not go on; so she went back.

Another

idea! Why not follow the footprints some night, when there were not

so many people around, and when, even if there were, she would not be

seen so easily? But there was the question of being able to see the

footprints in the dark. No, that would be impossible: the only thing to

do would be to wait. For what, Eepersip had not the slightest idea.

The name of the people who had captured the chipmunk was Brunio.

Mr. Brunio and his little twin daughters, Flitterveen and Caireen, had

come up to the meadow with sleds and skis to slide. They had seen the

chipmunk frolicking about, and had watched him impatiently.

"How

I would like that little animal for my own!" said Flitterveen.

"He looks cold and hungry, Father," said Caireen. "Here, I have

some crackers in my pocket. Let us throw them to him and see if he

will eat them."

This they had done, and the chipmunk had been

tempted. He had come up cautiously and nibbled at them. He loved

Eepersip dearly. He had never received harm from one of those queer

two-legged creatures. He trusted them. But, while he had been nibbling,

Mr. Brunio had sneaked up quietly and taken him. Thus he had been

captured.

Eepersip was not able to free her little friend

until the next spring. She had lived a rather lonely life without him

through the winter, and one morning very early she decided to make a

desperate attempt to rescue him. She went down the slope of the hill

to the river, through grass wet with pearly dew-drops. She stole along

the bank of the river. behind bushes as much as possible, so as not to

be seen. Finally she came to a little wooden bridge, and across this

she went. But from there she had no idea how to proceed. She looked

all about her, bewildered, afraid among so many houses.

It was

a heavenly morning. The sun rose and cast a sweet golden light over

the earth. The grass sparkled as if with diamonds. A fresh spring

breeze was blowing gently. Flowers grew here in the deep grass, and

myriads of butterflies came flocking. But Eepersip stood forlorn and

discouraged.

Suddenly a faint squeaking came to her. She darted

toward the sound. O Eepersip, beware--not too fast! The squeaking came

from one side of a dark brown house. Eepersip saw a small wire cage,

and in it her little brown Chippy. Mr. Brunio had opened the squeaky

door of the house and was coming out with Chippy's food. Eepersip saw

him, and swerved aside into the shelter of a gigantic rose-bush before

he saw her--just in the nick of time. It seemed like a long wait, but

after a while Mr. Brunio went into the house again.

Looking

cautiously about her, Eepersip tiptoed out, opened the door of the

cage, seized Chippy, id sped off. Thus he was rescued; and Eepersip

was happy indeed!

As for the Brunios, they were very much

distressed when they found out that the chipmunk was gone. By spying,

they discovered some of Eepersip's strange habits. Then, early one

morning, they took their little kitten--the twins had rather stupidly

named her "White," for her colour--up to the field where Eepersip had

her home, let her go very near Eepersip's burrow, and then ran away

quickly before the kitten could find them. Well, White didn't care much

about being left in the dewy grass, bewilderedly shaking first one

paw, then another. But presently Eepersip came out of her burrow with

Chippy. Seeing the patch of white, Eepersip thought the kitten was an

exceptionally late bit of snow left on the grass. But no, it certainly

had not been there the last time she had looked. And then she realized

that it was altogether too late for any snow. Darting up to it, she

found the little kitten, so snow-white, with the blue-grey eyes like

little moonstones, gazing pitifully up at her. Because she thought the

kitten had been a patch of snow, Eepersip named her Snow-flake.

She took her, shivering with the wetness of the dew, into her

burrow, and found, much to her surprise, that Chippy recognized her

and sprang at her in great delight. The truth of the matter was that

Chippy had often seen the kitten during his captivity, and had played

many a happy game with her in his cage.

Caireen and Flitterveen

had thought when they let the kitten go that Eepersip, seeing a new

animal, would give them back Chippy. Not so! Eepersip would rather have

two animals than one. Besides, she saw how dearly the two loved each

other, and would not have parted them for anything now. The Brunios had

been disappointed enough at losing Chippy--and now they had lost the

kitten too!

It was now summer, and the Brunios--Mr. Brunio,

Caireen, and Flitterveen--decided to climb Eiki-ennern Peak and try to

get back their kitten. They wandered around a little while and at last

came to a sunny place on the edge of the woods. It was a very grassy

spot, all surrounded with blackberry-bushes just blossoming. Near its

edge was Chippy asleep, and in the middle was Snowflake washing herself

and playing with the dry oak-leaves that swirled about in the breeze.

Snowflake started back a little at the sound of whispering voices,

and then looked up. Eepersip was not there, for she had gone off to

find some sweet bulbs and roots

"Come on, White, dear!" called

Caireen.

But Snowflake did not know her old name since Eepersip

had changed it.

"Here, Sugar-bowl!" said Mr. Brunio. (He had

got rather used to calling her that, because she loved sugar and had

a habit of pawing into the sugar-bowl to get it). This was a trifle

more familiar, and she took a step forward.

"That's the way!"

said Flitterveen, encouraging her. "Come on!"

Snowflake took

back the step.

They grew impatient; yet some of their calls were

encouraging that Snowflake could hardly resist creeping through the

briers to their feet. Pretty soon she touched Chippy with her nose. He

awoke, yawned two or three times, and, when he saw the people there,

instantly pattered off into the woods. Now Snowflake sat very still,

in spite of all their coaxings, for she knew that help was coming. And

she didn't have long to wait, for in a moment Eepersip came running up

with Chippy in her arms. With a beautiful leap she cleared the briers

and, taking up Snowflake, cleared them again and vanished into the

woods.

Life for Chippy and Snowflake was great fun during the

time when Mr. Brunio, sometimes with the twins, was coming up to the

brier-patch and trying to entice Snowflake away. In the afternoons,

though the two little animals were glad to stay in the brier-patch,

Eepersip generally took them along with her when she went anywhere, for

she thought that possibly Mr. Brunio might come up with an ax to chop

down the briers. In this Eepersip proved wise, for, about the third day

that Mr. Brunio and the children had been coming up Eiki-ennern Peak to

rescue Snowflake, Mr. Brunio did bring an ax. But this time Eepersip

had taken the two little animals out with her; they had gone exploring,

finding sweet roots and brilliant berries.

Eepersip spent that

summer in continual fits of dancing, laughing, and merriment. She had

never before been so happy. Every day she felt as though she loved

the animals, birds, and butterflies--everything of Nature--more

than the day before. She loved to see the same birds coming back this

year. Above all she loved the delicate butterflies with wings of all

colours. She would lie in the meadow for hours and watch what was

happening. She could imagine miniature cities in the air, and saw

little butterflies and birds constantly going and coming from them.

There were cities on the ground too, where orchestras of grasshoppers

and crickets played in the grass.

She sometimes made up words

for her melodies--little songs of Nature. She would sing them over

and over, sometimes ringingly, sometimes in a murmur.

Buttercups are smiling

To see the butterflies

Feathering

so softly,

Rainbowing the skies....

The wind is snowing butterflies,

Fairy golden showers;

Misty the air with dancing wings;

The sun is raining flowers.

She told the deer that _she_ felt like a butterfly, and that the wind was

snowing _her_ when she danced. And then she gave them handfuls of lush grass.

At the end of that first winter Mrs. Eigleen

began to feel ill. No one knew what was the matter with her. She spent

the spring in continual weeping and hysterics. Towards the summer she

began to feel seriously ill. They had had several different doctors in

to see her, but none of them could find out exactly what the matter

was, for she refused to tell anyone anything, even though she said she

herself knew. One afternoon she called her friends round her and bade

them take her over to the meadow, where they would surely see Eepersip.

They took her out, but never a trace of Eepersip did they see. And Mrs.

Eigleen kept on having her fits of weeping all through the summer, even

more frequently than before.

Now, by this time Mrs. Eigleen, her

husband, and all her neighbours had found out that Eepersip had taken

White away from the Brunios; for once they had been out in the field

and seen Eepersip. She was crowned with a wreath on which butterflies

were clustering in bunches, like grapes; and Chippy and Snowflake were

frolicking about her. The Eigleens, the Ikkisfields, and the Wraspanes

went down the meadow and to Mr. Brunio's house (for some of them knew

the Brunios and recognized the kitten), and he related his adventures.

That very afternoon they went back to the meadow and chased Eepersip,

but they couldn't catch her, for she took up Snowflake and Chippy and

mounted a doe, who bore them off like the wind.

The next day

they tried again: It was dawn, and Eepersip was lying in the centre

of the meadow with Snowflake and Chippy by her side. She had had her

breakfast, but she lay on the grass watching the sun rise and send away

the shadows to right and left, flushing the sky with delicate pink

and yellow. The deer were still laying down. Eepersip heard a sound

of voices talking, followed by a roar of laughter; and instantly, of

course, she grew suspicious. She heard: "Mr. Wraspane, will you come

with me?" "Certainly, Mr. Eigleen." "Mrs. Ikkisfield, you come with

me. We are the ones that are not so skilled in slyness. We will go up

on the hill and guard there." "All right, Mrs. Eigleen."

As Eepersip lay there in the field, two men broke out of the woods right

near where she was lying. She sprang to her feet, caught Chippy and

Snowflake in her arms, and ran. Before she could snatch up the two

little animals, Mr. Eigleen was just able to seize her dress as she

darted by him. But, of course, the fern that he caught hold of came

out in his hand, and she ran along toward the hill--a foolish thing

to do, for she had just heard that there were two people guarding it.

Still, that was just about the only thing that she could do, for the

other two, Mr. Ikkisfield and Mrs. Wraspane, had also come out of the

woods and blocked her path.

Eepersip fled up on the hill and

nearly ran into Mrs. Eigleen and Mrs. Ikkisfield. Mrs. Eigleen caught

hold of Snowflake's tail, and Mrs. Ikkisfield stepped in front of

Eepersip, who dodged desperately to one side, releasing her hold on

the kitten to prevent its being injured.

But Eepersip was not

going to give up her pet just yet. She sped down the hill, knowing

that the others would soon be going to give the kitten back to the

Brunios. Through the big field she ran, with Chippy clinging to her

hair--down the other side of the slope to the river, along its banks,

across the small bridge 'way down, and back to Mr. Brunio's house on

the other side.

Eepersip looked all about her for some place of

concealment. No one was in sight. Along the side of the house there

was a forest of blackberry-bushes, which extended several yards and

was unusually dense and towering. The luscious black-and-purple fruit

was ripening, making it look even more sheltering and mysterious.

This patch was in such a position that it had to be passed to the

front door, which was really on the side of the house. Eepersip was

pleased to find such a convenient place. She sampled the berries with

satisfaction, always taking pains to see that no one was coming. Then

she wriggled inside and waited.

Presently they all came along,

Mrs. Ikkisfield holding Snowflake. Eepersip had ready in her hand a

little sharp-pointed stick. She pushed it through a tiny hole in Mrs.

Ikkisfield's stocking. It hurt! Mrs. Ikkisfield gave a little shriek

of pain and dropped Snowflake, who instantly put her paw on a small

fern which she saw--she couldn't see Eepersip, but the fern was very

familiar!--and was pulled by Eepersip into the bush. When the people

saw that, they knew, of course, who was near.

Eepersip started to crawl through the bush and out the other side; but

she heard Mr. Eigleen whispering to the others to go around and stop her. While

they were watching, Mr. Brunio, who had joined them, went back into the

house and fetched a net. It was woven of coarse, thick ropes, but the

meshes were quite small enough to hold the kitten, and almost Chippy

himself. (Mr. Brunio had once been a fisherman; he had retired, but

he still had many nets with meshes of various sizes.) They put this

net over the bush and pegged it down firmly, driving the pegs with the

head of an ax which Mr. Brunio brought out. Then they retreated to a

distance and watched.

Eepersip began working at the pegs; and

the chipmunk and the kitten to dig at the base of each so that she

might be able to pull them up more easily. The pegs were really too

big for Eepersip's little hands to manage comfortably, but she didn't

think of comfort in such danger as this, and she worked boldly at the

pegs with her nimble fingers. After she had got two or three up, the

Eigleens and their friends came forward, took those pegs, and put

them down more firmly than before, so that Eepersip had to begin all

over.

Although the people who were trying to capture Eepersip

and the kitten were naturally becoming very hungry, they didn't like

to leave the bush unguarded. But Mr. Brunio (who was exceptionally

hungry) said that he had many more such nets, and that they could

spread them all over the bush and hurriedly get luncheon. If they

put them down very firmly, and ate rather fast, there wouldn't be

much chance of Eepersip's escaping before they could get out again.

So they spread four more nets over the bush and went in.

Now

was Eepersip's chance, and she worked harder than ever. At last, with

the aid of Chippy and Snowflake, who helped a lot by digging around

the pegs, Eepersip got out of the first net and began tugging at the

second. She didn't try to dig up the pegs of this one: instead, all

three tried to dig under it, and at last they had made a hole large

enough for Eepersip to crawl through. The fibres of the third net

were rather rotten, so that Eepersip tore it easily. Each peg of the

fourth and fifth nets came up at one mighty yank; Mr. Brunio and his

helpers had put the last nets down in a great hurry, in order to get

their luncheon. Then Eepersip, with the two little animals, fled from

that dread place, across the bridge and back to the meadow, where

she found a sheltered spot and slept.

The three families

were much disgusted with themselves for not catching Eepersip and the

kitten; but they promised Mr. Brunio that they would try again. There

followed a week of rainy weather, during which they made no attempts,

but laid plans. As soon as the weather cleared, they tried one of

these plans; and Snowflake had a narrow escape.

It was in the

middle of the night. The families found Eepersip, with the two little

animals, asleep on the meadow. They took the kitten from her arms.

But as they did so, Eepersip herself woke up, screamed loudly, and

rushed after them. Then they turned and came after her; and Eepersip

was bold enough and angry enough not to run until she had rescued

Snowflake. She came right up to her parents and seized Snowflake from

the arms of the horrified Mrs. Eigleen. Then Eepersip ran--and fast,

too!

When she came to the edge of the woods she made straight

for a great pine. This tree she had climbed about in often, and she

knew its every limb. In pitch dark she could find all its branches,

and sometimes she trusted to her memory rather recklessly. She was as

sure of this tree as of the ground, even at night. She loved it--she

called it _her_ tree. A tree was, perhaps, not the easiest place

of concealment, but Eepersip thought that in this way she would not

have to run all over the meadow in the dark--and she was very tired

after her usual all-day playing.

There were no branches lower

than seven feet up. Eepersip made one leap, caught hold of a branch,

and swung herself up on to it. From that branch she mounted higher and

higher until she reached the very top. It swayed gloriously, even under

her light weight, but it didn't creak as if about to break. She sat up

in the high crotch and looked at the people so far below, through a

mass of black needles and a mighty thickness of strong limbs. It was

a wonderful night. The sky was spangled with stars of vivid silver.

Not a cloud was to be seen except on the western horizon, where a bank

was piling up rapidly, silhouetted against the deep ultramarine of the

sky, across which the Milky Way made a path of radiance. Eepersip,

looking down among the powerful limbs, felt as if she were part of

the familiar tree.

Poor Chippy and Snowflake were tired and

sleepy after what they had just been through. Eepersip murmured kind

words to them, while she thought of all that she had been through

herself. She was not in the least dizzy, but she was tired, and she

knew that she must not go to sleep up there.

Then she saw

that Mr. Eigleen had started to climb the great tree. He got about

half-way up and then stopped. She remembered the place: it had been

difficult for her, too. There was not a limb where he could put out a

foot and step on it; the next one was at the level of his neck. The

question was, how could he get on to this limb? He didn't have the

strength to pull himself up to it the way Eepersip had done. He tried

for a long time; but his caution proved too much for him. At last,

in despair, he descended; and the people went away, leaving Eepersip

in peace.

As soon as they were well out of sight and hearing,

Eepersip came down in a series of leaps from limb to limb. At length

she got to the bottom, where the last limb was seven feet from the

ground. She braced herself as firmly as she could on this, and then

she jumped. It was a marvellous jump in the dark, and she landed on

the ground unhurt, though very tired and covered with bits of bark.

"My, that was a dreary adventure!" she said sleepily, as she crawled

off to find a place to sleep

Eepersip saw no more of the

Brunios or her parents, and she decided that they had given up chasing

her and Snowflake for the winter--a winter which she and her two

friends spent undisturbed, playing with the leaves and shadows.

It was spring--spring before the third summer that Eepersip was

to spend wild--and the golden sun melted away the last patches of

snow from off the bare rocks and from round the pool, where it had

lodged between them. It was warm, although a wind was blowing--the

delicious wind of spring. This marvellous spring air made her blood

course quickly. She felt extremely happy and dancy. Her body seemed

to her lighter than ever, in spite of its strength. Her spirit was so

joyous that she could not express it in action; she had to let part

of it out in song. But song, however light and happy, could not quite

express Eepersip's feeling. She danced, and she sang, and she leaped

aloft for joy.

As the season advanced, she crowned herself with

sweet-smelling flowers, and the butterflies came and lit on them. She

went up the pool wearing her fluttering crown, and there she saw the

flowers that had come to bloom. There was iris, purple and gold--huge

blossoms which reminded Eepersip of the ocean as she had seen it, so

far away, on the first day of her wandering. In a soft bed of green

moss she found a little pink-and-white flower that she didn't know,

bell-shaped and very fragrant. There were wild-rose-buds there, too,

and never had Eepersip seen so many butterflies as were on those roses.

They bordered the tiny beach, mingled with the tenderly uncurling

green ferns. The delicate red leaf-buds on the maple-trees were now

developing into tiny emerald leaves. And there were ever so many

other treasures of Nature there.

Eepersip played little happy

games with all the creatures of the field. One game she played with

the crickets. A cricket would be hiding in a certain place, and when

Eepersip danced by he would buzz out of the grass into her face; she

would pretend to be startled and would run from the spot. She played

another game with the grasshoppers. One would be hiding, and Eepersip

would come dancing by with her eyes shut. Then the grasshopper would

whirr out of the grass and alight on her hand. When she opened her eyes

she would shake her hand and try to get rid of him, all in fun, of

course. Then sh e played two lovely games with the happy butterflies.

She would let a butterfly alight on her hand, to which she would then

give a violent jerk, so that the butterfly was sent sailing into the

air; then, without a motion of the wings, he would come sailing back to

Eepersip's hand. This they would do again and again. When she tired of

this game, Eepersip would crown herself with the sweetest flowers she

could find, and then flocks of butterflies would try to alight on her

wreath as she danced. There were never enough flowers for all of them;

some were always fluttering around Eepersip's head, trying to find a

nestling-place, and others were safely folded in the blossoms.

One of the thrilling hours of Eepersip's happy life that summer

was when she lay in the meadow watching the sky and all the swallows

circling. Snowflake and Chippy were frolicking gayly in the short, dry

grass, chasing leaves. Now Chippy snuggled up to Eepersip. Snowflake

kept on playing; she was crouched on her little white belly, playing

with a dry brown leaf, and when it drifted beyond her reach she would

spring after it. Eepersip watched her in a dreamy way. Now Snowflake

cast the dead leaf away, having torn it to shreds, and played with

other things. Sometimes she would rear herself up into the air; at

other times she would run with little tripping steps over to Eepersip,

as if something had frightened her; again she would rush round and

round Eepersip in a wide circle, and finally she would settle down to

play with another dead leaf. It made Eepersip glad to hear the kitten's

little pattering feet on the grass; she knew how madly Snowflake was

frolicking, but she did not share in the play--instead, with a dreamy

happiness, she watched the sky.

Another day in this summer

was even happier. It was in July, and Eepersip was lying in a part

of the meadow where there weren't many deer, so that the grass was

long, soft, and green instead of stiff and short. Snowflake and Chippy

were frolicking around in it, but again Eepersip was not thinking of

them. She wast thinking the swallows that flew over her, and the way

the sun shone on their breasts, making them glitter like silver. The

crickets were chirping, and the grasshoppers were accompanying them,

and they were both very happy. The frogs croaked bass songs from the

pool--the cool, green frogs! The birds were singing merrily, and the

butterflies passed over Eepersip's head in flocks--butterflies of

white and purple and blue and yellow, little ones of copper-green, and

big ones of orange and red. Some of them flew with short, quick flirts

of the wings, others with long strokes which swept them through the

air. The gauzy dragonflies, too, flew over her. Everything thrilled

Eepersip's happy, tireless eyes.

The bees hummed their way low

over the long green grass, and Chippy and Snowflake leaped high in the

air when they passed. Eepersip had taught the two little animals not

to catch the creatures of the field, and before long all the birds

loved Snowflake--something that few kittens have yet attained. But

Snowflake and Chippy liked to pretend to catch the bees, and sometimes

they went so far as to hold them: on the ground with their paws, very

gently, not hurting them at all. Snowflake and Chippy lay in the

grass, reaching and touching anything that took their fancy. When the

wind blew they would leap up at the clover-blossoms that nodded. They

played hide-and-seek, leaping over the grasses and chasing each other

in and out of their hiding-places. The long grass offered a splendid

place of concealment. Chippy would scurry behind a big sheltering tuft,

seeming to Snowflake to have vanished in mid-air. Snowflake would poke

about and run in such bewildering circles that it tired them looking

at each other. Soon they would get so mixed up that they wouldn't know

which of them was supposed to be hiding, and it often happened that

they were both hiding at the same time, or both searching.

This

was for Eepersip the happiest of that summer's hours in the field.

Something fresh and fragrant in the air made breathing a delight; it

almost lifted her off the ground, and she let forth a glorious burst of

song.

It was a cold, frisky day in October, and Eepersip,

even in her warm coat, had to keep moving. Snowflake and Chippy were

frolicking and playing games with each other. Eepersip had taught them

how to shake hands, and this they were practising. A leaf had settled

on Snowflake's head like a brown crown, and she was trying vigorously

to get it off. But no, the leaf was curled firmly around her small,

dainty ears. She got wilder and wilder in her amusing efforts. She

dashed round and round. She reached after it with her forepaws. All in

vain! She could not get rid of that persistent leaf. But there! a gust

of cold wind sent it flying from her head, to be instantly lost in a

whirl of others which the wind had started up. Snowflake dashed among

them madly, and played with them, trying to catch them all at the same

time. But at last she stopped her foolish efforts and came quietly back

to rest.

In November the first snow of the winter fell. The

flakes came thick and fast, like white and silver butterflies dancing,

flying. Eepersip took them in her hands and noticed how each flake had

its own shape, which was never found again. During that day in October

Snowflake had worn a brown crown of a dead leaf, but now she wore a

white one. The snow didn't show much on the white fur of the kitten,

but Chippy's autumn brown was soon covered with a mossy blanket of

it. The flakes whirled down thicker and faster than ever, and Chippy

tried to jump at them all. The playmates could hide in the snow now,

for if they got far enough apart they couldn't see each other. They

tried to capture the snowflakes, but they found that this made their

paws even wetter.

In spite of all this merriment, Eepersip had

a slightly sad feeling in her heart. The night before, she had seen

the sea; and it had looked _so_ glorious that she felt as if--as

if she would like to go to it. She loved the meadow so much that this

would be almost impossible for her. Yet she knew that, in spite of

her love for the meadow. her longing for the sea would grow, and that

one day she must leave her present home. All this made her rather

sad. But she tried to be happy--to share the joy of her two little

friends, and the joy of having the little fairy things come whirling

down upon her. She played all day in the meadow with her friends, and

when the evening fell they went back to the burrow and slept in peace

till morning.

In this way the winter passed. Every evening at

sunset Eepersip would go over to the edge of the meadow and gaze long

upon the sea, with the brilliant sunset colours reflected in it. And

each time she looked it seemed so beautiful, so beautiful! and each

time she tried to go to it, it seemed as if the ground of the meadow

was a great magnet to her feet.

The spring came, and with it

the flowers and leaves.

One night Eepersip woke up to find the

full moon as if hanging in the sky. A few faint stars could be seen.

She tried to go to sleep, but could not. At last she got up from her

bed of moss. The dew lay thick on the grass, which slushed deliciously

against her bare feet. All entranced with the beauty of the night,

she ran lightly over to the spot where she often had a view of the

sea. And she beheld it with the full moon reflected in it--a globe

of soft silver, shimmering and quivering in the unstill waters. This

time it was too much for Eepersip. She could stand it no longer--her

heart gave way. She decided that the next morning she would satisfy

her longing.

And so, just after dawn, she left her beautiful

home in the field and journeyed toward the ocean. She went to the edge

of the meadow with a herd of deer daintily tripping after her. She

turned and cried: "Good-bye, O deer! for probably I shall never see you

again." She kissed the ground of the meadow, and she wept to think that

she was leaving it; but she knew that her love for the sea had become

greater than her love for the meadow. And then she went away--sadly,

yet happy at the prospect of a new and beautiful life by the foaming,

churning rocks and the white-capped waves.

II

THE SEA

Your flashing waves hold out their arms to me-- I

entangle myself in their silver hair,

And ride with them to catch the wind.

The sun trails bright jewels in the water,

And laughs because I cannot touch them.

As Eepersip journeyed on, the meadow grew dimmer in her mind, and the memory

of how the sea had looked grew brighter. She couldn't see it now, for she was

in a valley; but she knew that she was going in the right direction.

The spring breeze was blowing; it was not cold, and the breeze stirred

the air gently, so that it wasn't hot. Occasional whiffs from the

meadow came to Eepersip with that breeze; but when the had gone about

two miles this fragrance ceased.

That afternoon she came into a

great forest where strange, mysterious shadows passed back and forth in

a frightening way. She hurried on as fast as she could, but she had to

spend a night in it--one alarming, terrible night. The next day she

came out, torn and bedraggled with fighting her way through the dense

thickets. Several times she had to cross rivers--some of them without

a bridge, though luckily none of these was over her depth. Another day

had passed. Nightfall found her wearily climbing a very high hill.

The reflection of the moon showed her where the ocean was. It seemed

hardly any nearer than before! The third morning she descended into a

rich and fertile valley. A small brook was winding down it, and where

the weeping willows dipped into the current it bubbled and sang. This

valley was the broadest that Eepersip had yet gone through. But after

a long time she came out of it against a high, precipitous cliff. Up

the side of this she climbed, digging her toes into the cracks between

the rocks, At last she got to the top; and a long, weary climb it had

been. She was now on a grassy hill where bloomed daisies shining like

stars, and little butter-cups of gold. There were butterflies, too,

with brilliant wings, and they hovered and fluttered over the flowers.

And lo! there was the ocean, nearer now, with the sun shining on it;

and Eepersip could see the surf rolling and foaming. Shrill cries

pierced the air--the cries of birds, of seagulls swooping inland in

wide circles. And as went on through the waving grass she could smell

the delicious salt air of the sea.

But, alas, she met with a

hindrance. Between, her and the coast there was a valley extending

for miles, and poor Eepersip would have to clamber down a precipitous

cliff, through the valley, and up another cliff. Down she went, rather

unwillingly but knowing that she would get there sometime. At last she

came to the bottom. It wasn't so bad down there--there was a lovely

lakelet at which she refreshed herself with a drink; it was grassy,

and there were flowers. But it was stiflingly hot. There was a patch

of pine woods here and there, but it was hot even in the shade of

the great trees.

She stumbled on in the almost blinding heat,

clambering up the other great precipice--the wall of the valley. From

the top she looked down, and, seeing again that ponderous cliff, she

wondered how she could ever have got up it. Then she lay down on the

grass, and in a moment was asleep.

When she awoke, the strong

wind was blowing again. It made her almost fly through the cold, salty

air. Before her was the long-sought ocean, with the waves rolling

and the gulls swooping, diving and screaming. She flew; her feet

could not stay still. She was tired no longer--she didn't feel the

smallest effects of her wearisome journey.

Suddenly she heard a

sound--the magical sound of the waves as they crashed on the rocks.

In they would come, pounding, roaring, breaking upon the shore. The

foam and spume would fly back and leap up into the air. Everything

sounded strange--stranger than anything Eepersip had ever heard. No

words can describe what she imagined. She never had had such a lot of

emotions in her head at the same time. She tried to describe them to

herself, but soon gave it up as useless. She thought: "Here I am; I see

it; you don't need to tell me about it!" And then she realized that

she was alone, knowing in her own mind what it was like, yet unable to

stop wishing that she could describe the hollow, ringing sound. Was

she becoming homesick? No! it was sheer delight.

For a moment

she paused. Then she bounded through the yellow sand, and, ever going

faster and faster, she came to the edge of her sea. Her longing had

been fulfilled.

This beach was almost overhung at one end by a

great shelf of rock. The sand was glistening with shells of all colours

and bordered with sea-weeds washed up. Tiny sand-pipers' tracks ran

all over it. Eepersip stayed there a long time, gazing into the waves,

gazing at everything.

The rock-ledge at one end of the beach had

been catching her eye for some time. She watched how fearlessly the

gulls plunged on quivering wings, down, down, then rose again, covered

with silvery drops, to fly here and there. Then she would look back at

the little precipice. She thought: "_I_ cannot fly! _They_

do it from the air, but I cannot. I can do it from the precipice!

Why not? "Then, aloud: "I _will_ be a bird--I _will_ do

it!"

She walked back to the point where the cliff towered from

the beach. She climbed up. She selected, in the water so far below, a

place that was free from the treacherous-looking rocks. Then, swaying

her arms a moment and plucking up high courage, she gave a flying leap

and landed in the deep water.

Another miracle! She had never

had a chance to swim before, but somehow she did it naturally now. It

was an instinct in her to kick with her legs and throw out her arms in

the right way. Fortunately she had landed in the place without rocks.

Shaking herself in imitation of the gulls, so that silvery drops flew

from her in all directions, she began to swim about. She played in the

water for a time, entranced, singing as she had never done before,

even in the meadow. After a while she came out, all shining, laughing

and dancing. But it was then too late in the day to play any more; so

she lay down on the sand, well out of reach of the tide, and slept,

with the murmuring of the sea in her ears all night.

It

had been high tide; but the tide was now going out, and near the beach

the tops of the great rocks were appearing. To Eepersip, who had never

before been near the ocean, these things which happened every day were

strange and delightful, and she could not look at them enough. Each

wave was pure blue, topped and trimmed with spray. As the waters drew

back Eepersip had to retreat; for the low tide revealed more and more

rocks, and the spray that hit upon them flew back farther and farther.

Gradually they were left bare and dry, and Eepersip arranged sea-weeds

and sea-plants in the little pools left in their hollows. When, at

last, high tide came in, she sorrowed to watch them become part of the

sea again. But she knew, of course, that when the tide went out other

pools would be left--perhaps more than there had been before.

Among the rocks at the back of the beach Eepersip found a pool made

by leaping spray from a storm. She trimmed it with sea-weeds of brown

and green. She took some of the dried low-tide snails from the rocks

around it and cast them into the sea. With her hands she caught some

sluggish yet pretty little fishes and put them into her pool. As she

was doing this she noticed how the tide was coming in--she had been

so intent upon her task that she hadn't seen it. It was now almost

up to her. She stopped what she was doing and watched it anxiously,

afraid that it was going to reach her pool. But, to her great joy,

it didn't. The waves lapped as if they wanted it very much, but they

couldn't quite touch it; and Eepersip, worried no longer, continued her

happy playing.

In this way the days passed, with something new

all the time. But she did not forget her little pool. She tended it,

putting in fresh plants and rocks, and replacing a fish if it died.

She slept in a crevice in the rocks at the end of the beach. There

was a tunnel under the rocks that the water had cut; if she crept to

the farther end, no tide could reach her. There was a spring in the

pasture in back of the beach, about a hundred yards away, and there

Eepersip got her supply of fresh water. It made a merry brooklet which

ran bubbling down a small hill and into the sea. When it was stormy she

had a habit of merely snuggling under the rocks as far as she could

go, to watch the glistening white-caps and listen to the crashing

surf. But before she had seen many storms she stayed out when they

weren't too severe, and sometimes played about in the waves--and she

liked to be ducked.

In her explorations along the shore

one day Eepersip found a great raft, made from interlacing twigs and

plastered over with clay and pitch. Here and there great water-soaked

ropes bound it firmly. It had been washed up on the shore, and from a

long period in the sea, had become terribly slimy and water-logged.

Eepersip hauled it to the water to see if it would hold her weight, but

it sank immediately. So she let it dry off in the sun for a long time;

and at last, when it had become quite dry, she tried again. This time

it held her. It started drifting off to sea with her on it, but she

quickly slipped off and took it to shore again. A few days afterward

Eepersip found a board, about three feet long and broad enough to

serve perfectly as a paddle.

That was what she had wanted. She

hauled the raft out to her depth, climbed on to it, took the paddle,

and pushed off merrily.

Under strong strokes the water whirled

and rushed, and the raft pushed through it. Sometimes she came to a

sand-flat, and again to such a deep place that when she looked down all

she could see was menacing shadows. Once the raft came into a shoal of

carmine-coloured fishes with very long pointed fins. Of course, they

scattered in all directions as she came amongst them.

When she

had started it was dawn. By midday, with the help of a favourable wind,

she was out of sight of land. Then she saw that, if she were going to

get back to the beach by evening, she must hurry and use her remaining

daylight in that direction. So she turned about, with great difficulty

because of the wind, and then she started homeward. But everything

that had before been favourable was now against her; with her clumsy

craft she could make no headway, and the waves were rising higher all

the time. So she gave up, thinking that possibly the wind would soon

change or calm down altogether. But this did not happen.

She

was dashed about wildly, ever going farther from land, and seeing

nothing save the unlimited expanse of rough water. Yet, even in her

fright, she enjoyed it. She was not hurt at all, and she had only to

cling tight to the raft. The sensation of being so dashed about and

of riding up and down on the waves was glorious.

All the same,

when it began to grow darker, darker, the wind remaining steady, she

began to wish she had not ventured forth, but had stayed in shelter

and safety at her little beach. She had always had great fun watching

the storms, the high spray, the wind-tossed gulls; but now she saw

that she had wished for rather too much.

It became steadily

blacker, and still she was borne on, making no resistance now, for she

saw how useless it was. By the faint remaining light from where the

sun had set, she saw ahead of her a dark pointed object rising out of

the water. She knew that it was a rock; and, afraid of being dashed

against it, she began resisting with her paddle. Extreme fright made

her strokes powerful, and she actually managed to slow up the raft a

little. She came gently against the edge of the rock, fastened her

raft to it by means of one of the ropes, and climbed up to its peak.

From there, the sea, with its wild waves, was like the sky, full of

weird cloud-caves, fringed with light from a hidden moon.

She

looked for a long time; she looked steadily. And then, not far off,

she saw a dark mass which, outlined against the deep blue of the night

sky, appeared to be land--blessed land! She realized that the waves

were going straight toward it. With a cry of joy, she unfastened her

raft, leaped upon it, gave a useless push with her paddle, and went

on.

Soon she came to the shore--a smooth beach. She pulled up

her raft, well out of reach of the advancing tide, and started for

the bushes to find a place to sleep. For the first time since night

had fallen, she noticed the wondrous beauty of the moon, almost full,

and the stars that showed faintly their silvery faces. She crawled in

among the bushes, and, watching all these lovely things and listening

to the soft murmuring of the waves, which were now calm again, she

fell into a deep, delicious sleep.

The next day the sea

was absolutely calm. The sun was shining brilliantly on the water,

making it dance and sparkle. Even Eepersip, who was so accustomed to

waking in a different place from where she had been yesterday, was

surprised to find herself where she was, and she had to rub her eyes

hard to make sure that she was not dreaming. Then the whole adventure

came back to her--the raft, the windy night, the raging sea, and the

happy landing on this shore. There was her raft, lying on the beach

just where she had left it.

She got up and started to explore

along the beach, but suddenly she stopped short in her tracks; for

there, covered with climbing vines and bordered with bright little

flowers, was a cottage--a little cottage in the midst of its forest

of green leaves and bushes. Beautiful though it was, for a moment

tears came to Eepersip's eyes. Exactly so had her own cottage looked;

through all these years she had remembered it--just how it was in

every detail. But this recollection soon passed away, in the dismay

of realizing that she had come to an inhabited place. It was all so

beautiful--she had wanted to stay and explore--and her hopes were

crushed!

She stood stock-still for a long time, looking at the

cottage. Nothing stirred within. Everything was quiet--oh! so quiet.

Stealthily as a mouse Eepersip crept toward it, opened the door, and

went in. A house, a detested house!--one of those houses that she had

run away from. Everything came back to her--those foolish coverings

on the floors which they called carpets, at the windows those useless

decorations called curtains. To think of it! when there was a carpet so

much lovelier of green grass or of white sand--and no windows to be

curtained!

It was a delightful little room, all the same; with a

brownish woolly carpet, a small fireplace, and little blue curtains of

a delicate material. It was quite deserted, so she decided not to let

it bother her.

A small back door opened into the lovely woods at

the back of the house. Quickly Eepersip made her way out into the open;

and everything looked twice as lovely as before. How light it was,

with all the world a window, instead of those silly little peep-holes

fringed about! How much more glowing everything was! Oh, nothing in a

house could compare with the world of light that Eepersip lived in!

Out here, the sunbeams made shadows wherever they struck; the birds

twittered; the ripples lapped the shore caressingly. Otherwise all

was still. But she was not thinking of the sea: she had decided to

explore the woodland, for she felt, in a way, that it was her home.

Following a little winding path, she came through a grove of white

pines carpeted with needles and dotted with gnome-like toadstools of

red and yellow, looking very bright and mysterious in that shady place.

They were, to Eepersip, like the traces of some elfin revel, perhaps

thrones of precious mineral. There were great boulders, too, covered

with grey-green lichens some bearing aloft tiny cup-like blossoms

of pearly grey--the cups from which the feasters had drunk their

flower-wine. Seeing a lighter place ahead, she knew that she was coming

out of the pine grove. A flood of pale green radiance greeted her, as

she stepped out of the dimness of the woods into a meadow. White and

yellow butterflies were fluttering over it in great flocks, with wings

shining. Eepersip could hear birds chirping and singing. She passed

on through the meadow and came again into woodlands, so thick now

that hardly a sunbeam could penetrate the dense canopy of leaves.

After a while she emerged into a clearing. In the middle of it there

was a pool, almost entirely surrounded with dark green moss, very soft,

overhung by a boulder. It, too, had a covering of moss. A tiny stream

flowed silently and mysteriously into the pool, which was so dark that

Eepersip could just see its floor of dark sand. On the bottom grew

strange star-leaved plants, and small fishes were nibbling them. It was

all very strange and magical, it was so silent.

Eepersip stayed

looking at this pool for a long time, and then she decided to follow

the little brook which was trickling into it and see where it came

from. She followed it through deep woodland for about three miles. All

this way it was sluggish. Then the land changed abruptly; and Eepersip

realized that she was climbing a steep and rugged hill. She went up and

up on a rough path. It was very hard climbing, and she was becoming

tired. At last she got to the top, and her happy eye looked back upon

the way she had come.

She saw from that high perch the pool,

into which she knew the little brook was trickling; the blotches which

were clumps and patches of dark forest; the field, a mass of sparkling

green light, a brilliant illumination to the gloomy pine forests around

it; the cottage, a tiny brown speck in the distance--and the sea, the

billowing sea, with the spots of foam, the towering waves, and that

green colour which the waves show when they are agitated. She could

even see the gulls, no bigger than flies to her, swooping about; but

she was too far away to hear their shrill, excited screams. Long and

steadily she looked. And then--the strangest thought Eepersip had ever

experienced came to her happy mind. "Forgetfulness!" she whispered to

herself. "Oh, I loved it so! and then, when it happened that I came

to the woodlands again, why--I forgot it. I must go back instantly.

But I am _so_ tired!"

Each wave seemed to bring a pain

to Eepersip's heart, as she watched the sea, like emerald, stretching

away until it seemed to meet the blue sky. Suddenly she sprang to her

feet and started down like a wild deer. Tearing through the woodlands,

through the dense thickets and the brambles, she came out at last by

the pool. But she had no eye for all its beauties; she had no mind

but for the sea. She rested a second; then she was on her feet again,

plunging, rearing, fighting her way through the woods. She came again,

in the depths of exhaustion, into that pool of light, the meadow.

Unable to move, she sank down in the delicious soft grass and watched

the butterflies, like winged jewels, swooping above. Then she fell into

a deep, heavy slumber.

She was awakened by shrill cries which

pierced the air. Looking up, she saw a flock of gulls with their long,

narrow wings, the colour of foam, winging their way toward the sea.

Then she remembered that she, too, was supposed to be winging her way

toward the sea, and she cried: "O happy birds, I would I were among

you, to go with such flashing speed!" It seemed to her that the sea was

in her care, and that she, through foolish forgetfulness, had wandered

off from it--wandered off from her guarding, leaving it to the mercy

of the beasts. Of course, if she had thought a moment she would have

seen how out of proportion this was, but she could do nothing but blame

herself, and fancy a terrible monster who would come and drink it all

up in her absence. And she began fighting and struggling against her

tiredness, until, with one desperate effort, she managed to start

running again. Then there was no stopping! Her old strength seemed to

come back, the strength which she had had before starting her woodland

explorations--the result, as she thought now, of a foolish desire.

Once she had started running again, her feet winged with a great

longing, she sped along the ground.

Soon she passed the cottage;

and then--there was her sea again, just as she had left it, with the

waves beating the sandy shore. The gulls were screaming and diving;

everything was excited and trembling. With a cry of ecstasy, Eepersip

sprang into the waves

Many happy days Eepersip spent here,

living in the vicinity of the hated little cottage. Since she had come

from the sea she had worn a mermaid dress of sea-weeds, fastened at the

neck by a white shell with a hole through it. Her favourite play was

with the waves. She could swim now, even under water, with a speed that

surprised herself, and she dived gracefully from all the rocks that

she came upon. But it was watching the sea that fascinated her more

than anything else. She would sit for hours at a time on the rocks and

listen to the waves bellowing beneath her. Sometimes, when they were

very high, she would go down on the low rocks and shout with delight

when the white spray rushed along and whirled itself up into her face.

The waves would wash her over and over and play with her in their

salty hands, and, though they seemed rough and wild, something always

guided her away from the treacherous rocks which they headed for.

But she was born to wander, and it was not long before she was

off on her explorations again. One sparkling day when the sun danced

and glimmered on the little ripples, Eepersip started to explore the

shore-line. Every sun-sparkle made her feel happier and happier, and

every breath of salty air lighter, until at last she thought she must

rise up into the air on strong wings. After exploring quite a while

and finding nothing unusual, she sat down on a rock. Her auburn curls

goldened in the sunlight, and her brown eyes sparkled.

After she

had rested a while, watching the swooping sea-gulls, she decided to

collect shells. She went along the beach some way, picking up shells

and pebbles. But soon she tired of this and, feeling very hot, flung

herself into the sea and played a while in the shallow water. Soon she

thought that she would like to take a long swim, and she started out

rapidly.

The waves came in higher and higher and brought with

them great flocks of gulls sweeping around in wide graceful circles

and uttering strange wild cries. Eepersip went on a long way until she

saw a great rock ahead, draped with sea-weeds of a dark green which

were floating up and down with the motion of the waves. There were many

crabs and snails caught in them. She was borne forward to the rock in a

mighty wave, and, clinging to it hard, she waited until the wave drew

back before climbing up. After she had rested some time she noticed

a shoal of shining little fishes down in the water. Some were gold,

some silver, and some had bands of dark blue. They all had ruby eyes.

She watched them for a long time, lying on her stomach on the rock.

She observed how they nosed down and fed on the oozy sea-plants on the

bottom, which were covered with silver oxygen-bubbles. Also she could

see, 'way down there, lovely bright corals of all colours. The water

was rather muddy, but there was a current coming in underneath, and

before long it was perfectly clear. The rock was tremendous, spreading

out beneath the surface and going down, down, all covered with slime

and sea-weeds. Eepersip was fascinated watching those little fishes:

she cared for nothing else. How long might she have watched them if

the tide bad not been rising and rising? Now it was touching her dress

when a ripple larger than the others came in. And now--a flash of

lightning down there in the shadows! Eepersip could not realize what

had happened. Then she thought: a great brownish-green fish had shot

into the middle of the shoal, seized one of them, and carried it off.

It was so quick that Eepersip could not think, until some time after

it was all over, what had really happened.

She swam to the

shore, but, to her surprise, it was quite a different shore from where

she had started. She wondered where she was. She landed on a beach of

white sand, so fine that it was impossible to hold. It was covered with

shells of all colours. These interested her for a long time, and she

piled up the whole beach with heaps of them that she had collected,

and had a beautiful time playing with herself until--

She saw

some footprints! _Footprints!_ They came down on the beach and

apparently into the water, then out again, and disappeared in the woods

on a narrow path which Eepersip had not noticed before.

But she

was not interested in where they went to or where they came from. Her

only thought was to get away--away. It was then too late to go out

in the sea again--that is, far from shore. The sun was about to set.

She would spend the night there, and then she would wander again. So

she lay down and went to sleep.

The next morning when she

woke up she was not alone. A little golden-haired boy with sky-blue

eyes was looking at her. They looked at each other for a long time.

"Who are you?" he ventured at last.

Here was a puzzler.

"Eepersip Eigleen," she answered. "I mean," she added doubtfully, "I

_was_."

"Who are you now, then?"

"I don't know

exactly."

"Why don't you?"

"I haven't any name now. I'm

just somebody. Have _you_ any name?"

"Yes--Toby--Toby Carrenda."

"Do you live here in the woods?"

"Yes."

"In a house?"

He looked at her curiously a moment; then

he said: "Yes, of course--don't you?"

"NO!"

"How

funny!"

"Yes, it is." With a little reluctance--"Will you play

with me?"

Strange: here was Eepersip, who detested people,

asking a little boy to play with her! It was simply that she, not

having seen any children for a long time, was fascinated by this small

boy who seemed so unafraid of her and so natural.

They wandered

together on the beach and picked up shells. Then Eepersip asked the

little boy if he liked to swim.

"Yes," he said. "But do you

think I'd better?"

"Yes--why not?"

"All right."

So he took off all his clothes and went in with her, and they

splashed each other and had a lovely time. Eepersip wanted to make him

a mermaid dress, but there was no sea-weed right there, and she didn't

want to leave him. So they went into the woods to find some ferns to

make him a nymph dress. She found a beautiful ferny glade, and sat

down and began to weave ferns together, talking to him at the same

time. When it was all done he was delighted.

"But, please," he

said, "can't I have a shell, too?"

He touched the shell strung

up on her sea-weed dress. They looked all over the beach, and at last

they found another shell with a hole all the way through. Then he was

entirely content.

They went into the woods together and picked

flowers, and Eepersip showed him how to make fern dresses and how to

weave wreaths of flowers. They went into a grove of sunlit white pines

and danced there together. Finally the little boy said: "I'm hungry,

Eeserpip."

"It's _Eepersip_," she said, "but it doesn't

matter much. I'll find you something to eat." After a while they found

some flame-coloured berries, and then Eepersip dug up some white roots

of which she was fond.

The boy said: "This is jolly, it is. Is

this the way you get your food?"

"Always," she said.

They

played a while longer, and then someone called.

Eepersip had a

strange feeling at that moment. She could not help feeling a certain

reluctance when she had first played with him; then she had decided

that he could not have anything to do with the civilized people she

hated so. He must be separate from them, perhaps even a wild thing

like herself. She felt a sensation of horror when the strange voice

sounded. Then he was not alone--then he lived in a house with other

people!