There is not much room in a bird's head for brains; but it has plenty of
thinking power all the same, and one of the first things a bird thinks
out is when he is safe or when he is in danger. As a consequence of
this, we have at the present day quite a colony of that shyest of wild
birds, the one which will puzzle the owner of a gun to get within
range--the wood-pigeon, calmly settled down in Saint James's Park, and
feeding upon the grass, not many yards away from the thousands of busy
or loitering Londoners going to and fro across the enclosure, which the
birds have found out is sacred to bird-dom, a place where no gun is ever
fired save on festival days, and though the guns then are big and
manipulated by artillerymen, the charges fired are only blank.
But Saint James's Park from its earliest enclosure was always a place
for birds--even the name survives on one side of the walk devoted by
Charles the Second to his birdcages, where choice specimens were kept;
so that a hundred and eighty years ago, when the country was much closer
to the old Palace than it is now, there was nothing surprising in the
_chink_, _chink_ of the blackbird and the loud musical song of thrush
and lark awakening a sleeper there somewhere about sunrise. And to a
boy who loved the country sights and sounds, and whose happiest days had
been spent in sunny Hampshire, it was very pleasant to lie there in a
half-roused, half-dreamy state listening to the bird notes floating in
upon the cool air through an open window, even if the lark's note did
come from a cage whose occupant fluttered its wings and pretended to fly
as it gazed upward from where it rested upon a freshly cut turf.
The sweet notes set Frank Gowan thinking of the broad marshy fields down
by the river, bordered with sedge, reed, and butter-bur, where the clear
waters raced along, and the trout could be seen waiting for the
breakfast swept down by the stream--where the marsh marigolds studded
the banks with their golden chalices, the purple loosestrife grew in
brilliant beds of colour, and the creamy meadow-sweet perfumed the
morning air. Far more delightful to him than any palace, more musical
than the choicest military band, it all sent a restful sense of joy
through his frame, the more invigorating that the window was wide, and
the odour of the burned-down candles had passed away.
He lay imbibing the sweet sounds and freshness through ear and nostril;
but for a time his eyes remained fast closed. Then, at a loud thrilling
burst from the lark's cage in the courtyard, both eyes opened, and he
lay staring up at the whitewashed ceiling, covered with cracks, and
looking like the map of Nowhere in Wonderland. For the lark sang very
sweetly to charm the wished-for mate, which never came, and Frank smiled
and gradually lowered his eyes so that they were fixed upon the
uncurtained window till the lark finished its lay.
Then, and then only, did he begin to think in the way a boy muses when
his senses grow more and more awake. First of all he began to wonder
why it was that the window was wide-open--not that it mattered, for the
air was very cool and sweet; then why it was his bedroom looked so
strange; then why it was that the blanket was close up to his face
without the sheet; and, lastly, he sat up feeling that horrible sense of
depression which comes over us like a cloud when there has been trouble
on the previous day--trouble which has been forgotten.
For a moment or two he felt that he must be dreaming. But no, he was
dressed, this was Captain Murray's room, there was the door open leading
into the chamber where Andrew Forbes lay, and yes--Then it all came with
crushing force--he lay wounded after that mad attempt to escape, while
the friend who had offered to sit with him and watch had calmly lain
down and gone to sleep.
"Oh, it is monstrous!" panted the boy, as he threw the blanket aside,
and stepped softly, and trembling with excitement, toward the chamber.
For now the dread came that something might have happened during the
night, in despite of the doctor's calm way of treating the injury.
The idea was so terrible that, as he reached the door, he stopped short,
and turned a ghastly white, not daring to look in. But recalling now
that he had heard his friend's breathing quite plainly over-night, he
listened with every nerve on the strain. Not a sound, till the lark
burst forth again.
He hesitated no longer, but, full of shame and self-reproach for that
which he could not help, he stepped softly into the room, and then stood
still, staring hard at the bed, and at a blood-stained handkerchief
lying where it had been thrown upon the floor.
For a few moments the lad did not stir--he was perfectly stunned; and
then he began to look slowly round the room for an explanation.
The bed was without tenant. Had Captain Murray, or some other officer,
come with a guard while he slept and taken the prisoner away?