Rick Lordelle was the only child of a rich man. In the winter he lived
in a great city; but in the summer he lived in a famous old castle upon
the bank of a river which wound between grand, picturesque mountains.
But although Rick was the son of a rich man, he was in great danger of
growing up a dunce: worse than that, he was in danger of growing up
regardless of any law except his own will.
His father was so busy, and so much from home, that he saw little of
him; and he was so fond of the boy, and so proud of his beauty and high
spirits, that he only laughed at his pertness and independence. To be
sure, he was very sorry that Rick did not take to his books; but he had
not sufficient firmness to insist upon his going to school, or having a
tutor at home. Rick boldly declared that he would not go to school; and
as for having a tutor, he had had several already, neither of whom he
liked, or would obey, or treat with respect. His father kept saying,--
"We will wait a while, and see if some way cannot be found to coax him
to be a scholar. Before he is much older, I may come across a tutor who
will suit him, and make it pleasant for him to learn."
Rick's mother was so fond of him, that she would not have him crossed in
any thing, if she could help it. She, too, wanted him to learn
something, and often tried to persuade him to say his lessons to her or
Nanette; but his attention could seldom be gained for fifteen minutes at
a time. As for persuading him to go to school, it would have been as
well for her to try to persuade a young lion to go there.
Nanette had more influence over him than either his father or mother.
She was a very bright and sensible young woman, and had helped to take
care of Rick ever since he was a baby. Although he would not mind
Nanette unless he pleased, he was more willing to obey her than any one
else; and as she was a very good story-teller, and had a particular gift
at telling fairy-stories, she could often persuade him to do as she
wished, by the promise of one of her wonderful tales. The fairies she
told about were generally old women who lived in the woods, and could
make persons rich and beautiful, or poor and ugly, and tell what would
happen to any one, and make every thing turn out to suit themselves.
Rick had sometimes asked Nanette if there were any fairies about the
castle, and she had told him she knew of no better place for them than
in those wild mountains; but as they never came near houses, that she
knew of, and she did not go into the mountains, she had never seen any
herself.
One day Rick had a bright idea. Why did he always ride up and down the
river-road which he knew so well, instead of striking off across the
mountains, at one of the many lanes which he had sometimes followed a
little way until he found they led into the forests? What might there
not be beyond those hills that was new and strange?
Beyond those mountains must he go, and that right speedily.
He at first told his mother of his intention, not expecting any worse
opposition than that she might insist upon his being accompanied by the
groom. But his mother, for once, replied "No," with some decision: it
was a wild region, she said; there was nothing behind the mountains but
other mountains, which ended she knew not where. She never had crossed
those mountains herself; his father had never crossed them; no one would
think of attempting it. Sometime, when he was older, his father would
take him around to the other side of the mountains, by the cars or some
other conveyance; but even a grown man would not try to cross them.
Rick made no reply, but simply resolved to investigate for himself. He
had sometimes known his mother to represent dangers far worse than he
knew them to be, in order to keep him away from them: he thought, as
likely as not, it was a far more easy and common thing to cross those
mountains than she had represented.
So, what did this venturesome youth do but start off the very next day,
ostensibly for a ride up the river, but with the real intention of
penetrating into the mountains by one of the mysterious paths, to test
the correctness of his mother's statement.
Gayly he rode along the beautiful river-road; and his mother, from the
castle-window, watched him until he was out of sight.
"How well he rides!" she said to Nanette. "He looks exactly like a
little lord."
Nanette made no reply: she was thinking to herself, "But he can neither
read nor write with any decency, and he is not mannerly nor obedient."
On rode the "little lord," over the winding road, until many a turn, and
at least two good miles, had separated him from the castle.
There were several narrow roads leading into the wooded district which
bordered the river-road. Beyond these woods rose the mountains, some
near, some distant, blue and purple against the fleecy sky.
A delightful sense of novelty took possession of Rick as he entered one
of these unknown paths. He felt as an explorer feels when he comes into
a strange country. How stupid he had been, he thought, always to be
riding up and down the river-road. It was a shady forest-lane: little
brooks winding down the hills and ledges made a pleasant sound, and
sometimes a swollen stream ran directly across the road. The pony, as
well as Rick, liked to go splashing through the water.
After riding about a mile through the woods, a narrow path diverged from
the lane. The lane itself had been a gradual ascent, but this path
evidently led up a much steeper hill. Rick wondered very much where
this narrower path would lead: he was inclined to think it was the way
to some castle. In that castle, perhaps there was another boy. There
were no children living near the Lordelle castle, except the children of
the servants and peasants.
No sooner did it enter Rick's mind that he might find a playmate by
following the smaller path, than he turned his pony out of the lane,
thinking he would come back and follow that at some other day.
The new path wound upwards constantly; but, as it was seldom very steep,
neither Rick nor the pony minded that. It was a very pleasant path; and
after Rick had given up the hope that it led to a castle, he was so
curious to know where it ended, that he still kept on.
After a while this path branched off, by several other paths, still
narrower,--one of them to the left, one to the right, and another
between these two, but yet not in a direct line to the main path.
Rick concluded to go a little way on one path, and then come back and go
a little way on the others, so as to get an idea of each. Accordingly,
he took the middle path. But he had scarcely entered this path, before
it divided into two other paths. As one of these was wider than the
other, he took that. After riding on a little way, Rick and the pony
came suddenly out into an open level space.
This space was a clearing, where many noble trees had been felled, and
which was surrounded by a majestic wall of beautiful pines still
standing. It was a circular opening, and Rick took it into his head
that it would be fun to ride around the edge of it, as he had seen men
ride around the mile circle at a horse-race.
Skip was as tired as Rick was of going up hill all the time; and she at
once pricked up her ears, and started off, jumping over the stumps, and
frisking generally.
Whether Rick went around the circle of the clearing more than once or
not, he was never certain; for when he looked for the path by which he
had entered, he could not find it, or, if he found it, he did not
recognize it. There proved to be a number of small paths leading into
the clearing, and one larger path leading out of it, down which the
timber had evidently been carried.
After trying in vain to find the path by which he had entered, Rick, who
was by this time getting a little anxious, concluded to follow the main
path, which would be likely, at any rate, to take him out of the woods.
To his delight, he found the path led down hill. He concluded he was
going down the hill he had come up, at another point, and should now
easily find the road by which he had entered the woods.
He rode down hill for some time, most of the way through an open
district, which had long been cleared of trees, and at length came upon
more level land, and another path running at right angles with that
which had led down the declivity.
Rick was now sadly perplexed. His head was so much turned that he had
no idea of the points of compass. It was impossible for him to retrace
his steps, on account of not knowing by what path he had entered the
first clearing.
Far ahead of him, to the left, however, there was smoke curling up above
the trees. At the right, the path seemed to lead along the edge of a
quarry and to end there.
Turning to the left, Rick rode along until the road ended in a clump of
low woods. There was nothing to be done but to follow the direction in
which he had seen the smoke rise. But, now he had entered the woods, he
could no longer see the smoke; and, worse still, the underbrush was so
thick, and the ground so swampy, that Skip could not make her way, but
soon became entangled in the thicket, the bog, and the brambles.
To add to Rick's troubles, it was getting late in the afternoon, the sun
had become clouded over, and there were signs of rain. His only hope
was to get to the place where the smoke came from, and inquire his way.
With a heavy heart, he dismounted, and after leading Skip into a clearer
place, near the entrance to the wood, hugged her around the neck, told
her he would be back by and by, and started out on foot, in the
direction in which he had seen the smoke as nearly as he could judge of
it.
As he disappeared, he heard Skip neighing after him, and he felt very
lonely and downhearted indeed.
He pushed his way through the briers and underbrush, sometimes sinking
into the mud, and sometimes going splash into the water, without coming
to any signs of a habitation, or any thing which could have caused the
smoke. Finally, he was not sure that he was going in the direction of
the smoke at all, as the trees hid it from his sight, and he resolved to
return to Skip: perhaps, by trying again, they could find their way
home, either by the paths they had come, or some other.
But now that he was resolved to go back to Skip, Rick was not sure of
that direction either; and he had gone so far that he could not possibly
hear the faithful creature neigh for his return.
Brave as the boy was, this dilemma, together with weariness, overcame
him so much, that he sat down upon a rock and began to cry: perhaps he
could never find his way out of this miry, tangled wood, and would die
there alone. He thought of the babes in the wood, and that they were
better off than he, since they could share each other's woes. If only
Skip were with him! "Oh, dear!" he said, "if some one would only come
and find me!"
"You have your wish, and what now?" said a rather cracked and sharp
voice.
Rick took his hand from his eyes, and looked up. Directly in front of
him was a thin, oldish woman, with gray hair, and very black eyes,
dressed in what seemed to Rick a yellow satin skirt, richly embroidered,
a red satin waist, and a sort of red turban. She was a very bright
object in the dusky woods.
At another time Rick would have been frightened at such an apparition,
alone in the woods; but, under the circumstances, he was more relieved
than frightened at hearing a voice, and seeing what at first appeared to
him to be a human form.
"You have your wish," she repeated, "and what now?"
"I want you to tell me how I can find my way home."
"The idea! Was Rick Lordelle ever willing to do any thing he was told
to do, before he got into this scrape? Since you would never take good
advice until this day, Master Rick, you may now do the best you can
without it. Has not Nanette told you about the fairies in the woods?"
"Yes," said Rick, so frightened that he was hardly able to speak the
word.
"You see one now, and little comfort will you get from her. Fairies
have better business than helping headstrong young gentlemen out of
their scrapes. I know very well that you never told your mother and
Nanette that you were going wandering about in the woods, and a pretty
fright they are in now! So help yourself, if you can!"
"But I don't know which way to go to get home," sobbed Rick.
"You'd better start off somewhere in a hurry, if you don't want to spend
the night in these woods. Boys that have their own way must go by their
own way, and suffer the consequences. So get up, and make your way
across the mountains the best way you can; for you've gone up one hill,
and come down another."
"I thought I came down the same side I went up."
"And so you would go and travel off in this direction, and leave the
castle farther and farther behind, you? A fine fellow to have your own
way! Come with me, and I will show you the mountain that lies between
you and the castle; for I would have a boy of your stamp out of my woods
as soon as possible. Nanette has told you, many a time, that fairies
have no liking for folks who are no better disposed than you are. Come
along, in a hurry, and stop your babyish crying! If Nanette and your
mother could see their fine young gentleman now!"
Rick followed the fairy, sobbing more quietly to himself, until she
brought him out of the woods, into a green open space with a brook
flowing through it. Just before them was a mountain, sharply defined
against the sky.
"Across that mountain you must go; and now let the young gentleman who
likes his own way so well, take it as he chooses," said the austere
fairy.
"Thank you," replied Rick, with more politeness than he had ever
exercised before; and he started across the meadow, beyond which there
was another wood at the foot of the mountain.
"How shall I get across the brook?" he asked, stopping suddenly, but not
daring to look around at his stern guide.
"Go to the brook first: you cannot cross it until you get to it. When
you reach it, a bridge will grow across it."
"And I cannot see any path in the woods, across the meadow, at the foot
of the mountain."
"If no path opens before you in those woods, my fine young gentleman,
say that the fairies have bewitched it."
Rick dared ask no more questions, and so he walked on towards the brook.
When he reached it, sure enough, there was a foot-path across it, which
looked like soft green moss, but was formed by an old tree-trunk
overgrown with lichens. Rick ventured upon it very cautiously, but he
found it firm; and, when he came to the woods, quite a broad path opened
directly before him.
As he entered the path, he ventured to look back. The bridge over the
brook had disappeared, but there stood the fairy, where he had left her;
and, as he looked back, she called out with a laugh,--
"Ten to one, you'll come across the old man of the mountains with a big
whip in his hand; but tell him that Zenia is near, and he will not touch
a hair of your head."
Rick was now in great distress. The stern fairy was behind him, and,
possibly, a man of the mountains before him. The best he could do,
however, was to keep on towards the castle. Fearful as he was, he was
consoled to find the path opening steadily before him up the mountain.
It at length led him out upon a rocky spur, and here a narrow foot-path
began to trace a winding line up and around ragged precipices. Without
this path, he could never have made his way among the many ledges about
him.
After toiling up this rocky ascent, very fearful regarding "the old man
of the mountains," and hoping he would be away from home that afternoon,
Rick at length stood upon the summit, and, still following the little
winding path that seemed to creep along just before his feet, came
suddenly upon the brink of a great precipice. Down, down, hundreds of
feet below him, lay the river-road, and, yes, the castle itself: he
could see its tower and ivied sides. And here was he on a rocky height
that went sheer down a dizzy wall of ragged bowlders and ledges, to
rough, rocky hills below.
Just as a dreadful conviction came upon him that he should never see his
mother and Nanette again, but should die in sight of his home, a great
figure arose close before him over the brink of the precipice. Two
brilliant circles surrounded the giant form, and a yellow halo encircled
his head. Bright-colored rays shot out from the figure on all sides.
In his hand, the strange, airy giant held a long, shining whip; and he
was moving towards Rick in an ominous manner.
The poor boy was so terrified, that, although he tried to shout, he only
began to sob frantically.
"Ho! ho!" said the man of the mountains, "Ho! ho!"
"Zenia is near!" Rick tried to say, but it was hardly more than a faint,
wild shriek.
As soon as he spoke those words, however, the giant began to look less
brilliant, and the figure itself to grow less distinct and farther away,
until it disappeared, leaving the clear air, the sky, and the valley
below, just as they had been before.