JOHN-OF-THE-WOODS
BY
ABBIE FARWELL BROWN
ILLUSTRATIONS BY
E. BOYD SMITH
HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY
BOSTON AND NEW YORK
THE RIVERSIDE PRESS CAMBRIDGE
COPYRIGHT, 1909, BY ABBIE FARWELL BROWN
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Published October 1909
To J.D. and K.D.
Kindest of neighbors and best of friends
to all the world and its
Animal Kingdom
CONTENTS
I. THE TUMBLERS
II. THE FALL
III. THE RUNAWAY
IV. THE OX-CART
V. THE HUNCHBACK
VI. THE SILVER PIECE
VIX. THE WANDERER
VIII. THE RESCUE
IX. THE ANIMAL KINGDOM
X. THE HERMIT
XI. THE PUPIL
XII. THE BEAU
XIII. A FOREST RAMBLE
XIV. THE WOLF-BROTHER
XV. THE GREEN STRANGER
XVI. THE HUNT
XVII. THE MESSENGER
XVIII. THE CARRIER PIGEON
XIX. THE JOURNEY
XX. THE ARRIVAL
XXI. THE PALACE
XXII. THE PRINCE'S CHAMBER
XXIII. THE CURE
XXIV. THE KING
XXV. THE FETE
XXVI. THE TALISMAN
CONCLUSION
ILLUSTRATIONS
THE THREE TUMBLERS
GIGI RUNS AWAY
HAVE YOU GOT MY BOY?
A QUAINT PAIR OF WANDERERS
THE CIRCLE OF ANIMALS WATCHED HIM
JOHN TALKED WITH THEM
YOU SHALL NOT KILL MY FRIEND THE BEAR
THE KING SENDS FOR YOU
A STRANGE COMPANY
JOHN WAS PROTECTED BY POWERFUL FRIENDS
HE STROKED THE SOFT BALL OF FUR
I WISH I COULD DO IT MYSELF
JOHN URGED THE CLUMSY FELLOW TO DANCE
TO ME, MY BROTHERS!
THE KING AND PRINCESS CAME TO VISIT HIM
JOHN OF THE WOODS
I
THE TUMBLERS
It was late of a beautiful afternoon in May. In the hedges outside the
village roses were blossoming, yellow and white. Overhead the larks
were singing their happiest songs, because the sky was so blue. But
nearer the village the birds were silent, marveling at the strange
noises which echoed up and down the narrow, crooked streets.
"Tom-tom; tom-tom; tom-tom"; the hollow thud of a little drum sounded
from the market-place. Boys and girls began to run thither, crying to
one another:--
"The Tumblers! The Tumblers have come. Hurry, oh, hurry!"
Three little brothers, Beppo, Giovanni, and Paolo, who had been poking
about the market at their mother's heels, pricked up their ears and
scurried eagerly after the other children.
Jostling one another good-naturedly, the crowd surged up to the
market-place, which stood upon a little hill. In the middle was a
stone fountain, whence the whole village was wont to draw all the water
it needed. In those long-ago days folk were more sparing in the use of
water than they are to-day, especially for washing. Perhaps we should
not be so clean, if we had to bring every bucket of water that we used
from the City Square!
"Tom-tom; tom-tom; tom-tom"; the little drum sounded louder and louder
as the crowd increased. Men and women craned their necks to see who
was beating it. The children squirmed their way through the crowd.
On the highest step of the fountain stood a man dressed in red and
yellow, with little bells hung from every point of his clothing, which
tinkled with each movement he made. In his left hand he held a small
drum, from which hung streamers of red and green and yellow ribbon.
This drum he beat regularly with the palm of his skinny right hand. He
was a lean, dark man, with evil little red-rimmed eyes and a hump
between his shoulders.
"Ho! Men and women! Lads and lasses!" he cried in a shrill, cracked
voice of strange accent. "Hither, hither quickly, and make ready to
give your pennies. For the tumbling is about to begin,--the most
wonderful tumbling in the whole round world!"
Stretching out his arm, he pointed to the group below him. The crowd
pressed forward and stood on tiptoe to see better. Beppo and Giovanni
and Paolo wriggled through the forest of legs and skirts and came out
into the open space which had been left about the fountain. And then
they saw what the backs of the butcher and baker and candlestick-maker
had hidden from them.
From the back of a forlorn little donkey that was tethered behind the
fountain a roll of carpet had been taken and spread out on the ground.
Beside this stood the three tumblers. One of them was a thin, dark
man, small and wicked-looking, dressed, like the drum-beater, in red
and yellow. The second tumbler was a huge fellow more than six feet
tall, with a shaggy mane of black hair. His muscles stood out in great
knots under the suit of green tights which he wore.
"A Giant he is! Faith, he could toss me over his shoulder like a
meal-bag!" muttered the Blacksmith, who stood with crossed arms looking
over the heads of the crowd. "And the wicked face of him! Ugh! I
would not wish a quarrel with him!"
But the little boys in the front row were most interested in the third
tumbler, who stood between the other two, with his arms folded, ready
to begin.
This also was a figure in green, with short trunks of tarnished
cloth-of-gold. But beside the Giant, in the same dress, he looked like
a pigmy or a fairy mite. This third tumbler was a little fellow of
about eight, very slender and childish in form, but lithe and
well-knit. Instead of being dark and gypsy-like, as were the other
three of the wandering band, this boy was fair, with a shock of golden
hair falling about his shoulders, and with a skin of unusual whiteness,
despite his life of exposure to sun and hard weather. And the eyes
that looked wistfully at the children in front of him were blue as the
depths into which the skylarks were at that moment diving rapturously.
On the upper eyelid of the boy's left eye was a brown spot as big as an
apple-seed. And this gave him a strange expression which was hard to
forget. When he was grave, as now, it made him seem about to cry. If
he should smile, the spot would give the mischievous look of a wink.
But Gigi so seldom smiled in those days that few perhaps had noted
this. On his left cheek was a dark spot also. But this was only a
bruise. Bruises Gigi always had. But they were not always in the same
place.
"Oh, the sweet Cherub!" said a motherly voice in the crowd. "I wonder
if they are good to him. They look like cut-throats and murderers, but
he is like the image of the little Saint John in church. Wolves, with
a lamb in their clutches! Save us all! Suppose it were my Beppo!"
At these words of his mother's, Beppo giggled, and the boy looked at
him gravely. The Hunchback with the drum had heard, too, and darted a
furious glance into the crowd where the woman stood. Then, giving a
loud double beat on the drum, he signaled for the tumbling to begin.
The three kicked off the sandals which protected their feet, stepped
upon the carpet, and saluted the spectators. The Giant stretched
himself flat, and, seizing Gigi in his strong arms, tossed him up in
the air as one would toss a rubber ball. Up, down, then back and forth
between the elder tumblers, flew the little green figure, when he
touched ground always landing upon his toe-tips, and finishing each
trick with a somersault, easy and graceful. The boy seemed made of
thistledown, so light he was, so easily he rebounded from what he
touched. The children in the circle about him stared open-mouthed and
admiring. Oh! they wished, if only they could do those things! They
thought Gigi the most fortunate boy in the world.
But Gigi never smiled. At the end of one trick the Giant growled a
word under his breath, and made a motion at which the boy cringed.
Something had gone not quite right, and trouble threatened. He bit his
lip, and the performance went on as before.
Now Gigi had to do the most difficult trick of all. With the Giant as
the base, and Cecco, the other tumbler, above, Gigi made the top of a
living pyramid that ran, turned, twisted, and capered as the great
strength of the Giant willed. At a signal they managed somehow to
reverse their positions. All stood upon their heads; Gigi, with his
little green legs waving in the air, heard shouts of applause which
always greeted this favorite act. But the sound gave him no pleasure.
He was tired; he was sore from a beating of the previous night, and his
head ached from the blow which had made that ugly mark on his cheek.
Gigi grew dizzy--
II
THE FALL
Suddenly a woman's voice screamed from the crowd:--
"Ah! The Cherub!"
Gigi had fallen from the top of the pyramid. He fell on his shoulder,
and for a moment lay still. But presently he was on his feet, kissing
his hand prettily to the crowd, and trying to pretend that he had
fallen on purpose, as he had been taught. The Giant and Cecco were
also quickly on their feet, and the three bowed, side by side, as a
sign that the show was over.
Cecco hissed a word into Gigi's ear, and he knew what to fear next. He
shuddered and tried to draw aside; but the Giant turned to him, livid
with rage, and with one blow of his heavy hand struck him to the ground.
"So! You spoil us again!" he muttered. "You good-for-nothing! I'll
teach you! Now take the tambourine and gather up the coins from the
crowd. You'll get a beating anyway for this. But if you don't take up
more than we had at the last town, you'll have such a trouncing as you
never yet knew. Now then!"
Dazed and trembling, Gigi took the tambourine, and, shaking its little
bells appealingly, went about among the people. They had already begun
to scatter, with the wonderful agility of a crowd which has not paid.
Some, however, still lingered from curiosity and with the hope of a
second performance. A number of small copper coins Jingled into Gigi's
tambourine. He approached the good woman who had shown an interest in
him. She stooped down and thrust a piece of silver into his hand,
whispering,--
"It is for yourself, child. Do not give it to the cruel men! Keep it
to spend upon a feast-day, darling!"
Gigi looked at her, surprised. People so seldom spoke kindly to him!
The brown spot upon his eyelid quivered. He seemed about to cry. The
woman patted him on the head kindly.
"If they are cruel to you, I'd not stay with them," she whispered.
"I'd run away.--Hey, Beppo! Hey, Giovanni! Paolo!" she called, "we
must be off." And she turned to gather up her young ones, who were
shouting about the market-place, trying to stand upon their heads as
Gigi had done.
Gigi clasped the silver piece tightly in his hand, and went on, shaking
the tambourine after the retreating crowd. But few more pennies were
coaxed away. Presently he made his way back to the group of tumblers,
now seated on the fountain-steps.
"Well, what have you?" growled the Giant. Gigi presented the
tambourine with the few pennies rattling around somewhat lonesomely.
"Humph!" snarled Cecco. "Less than last time. Is that all?"
"A beating you get!" roared the Giant.
Gigi shivered. "No,--not all," he said. "Here is a silver piece," and
he held out the coin which the kind woman had given him.
"Ah, silver! that is better!" cried Tonio the Hunchback, with his eyes
shining greedily. "Give it here"; and he snatched it and thrust it
Into his pouch. Tonio was the treasurer of the gypsy band. But the
Giant had been eyeing Gigi with an ugly gleam.
"He was keeping it!" he growled. "He did not mean to give it up. He
would have stolen it!"
"It was mine!" cried Gigi with spirit. "She gave it to me and told me
to keep it for a fiesta. But I gave it up because--because I did not
want to be beaten again."
"You did not give it up soon enough!" roared the Giant, working himself
into a terrible rage. "You shall smart for this, you whelp! After
supper I will beat you as never a boy was beaten yet. But I must eat
first. I must get up my strength. No supper for you, Gigi. Do you
watch the donkey here while we go to the inn and spend the silver
piece. Then, when we are camped outside the town,--then we will attend
to you!"
III
THE RUNAWAY
It was but a step to the inn around the corner. Off went the three
gypsies, leaving Gigi with the donkey beside the fountain. The poor
animal stood with hanging head and flopping ears. He too was weary and
heart-broken by a hard life and many beatings. His back was piled with
the heavy roll of carpet and all the poor belongings of the band,
including the tent for the night's lodging. For on these warm spring
nights they slept in the open, usually outside the walls of some town.
They were never welcome visitors, but vagrants and outcasts.
Gigi sat on the fountain-step with his aching head between his hands.
He was very hungry, and his heart ached even more than his head or his
empty stomach. He was so tired of their cruelties and their hard ways
with him, which had been ever since he could remember. The kind word
which the good woman had spoken to him had unnerved him, too. She had
advised him to run away. Run away! He had thought of that before.
But how could he do it? Tonio the Hunchback was so wicked and sharp!
He would know just where to find a runaway. Cecco was so swift and
lithe, like a cat! He would run after Gigi and capture him. The Giant
was so big and cruel! He would kill Gigi when he was brought back.
The boy shuddered at the thought.
Gigi pulled around him the old flapping cloak which he wore while
traveling, to conceal his gaudy tumbler's costume. If he only had that
silver piece perhaps he could do something, he thought. Much could be
done with a silver piece. It was long since the band had seen one.
They would be having a fine lark at the inn, eating and drinking! They
would not be back for a long time.
Gigi looked up and around the marketplace. There was no one visible.
The crowd had melted as if by magic. Every one was at supper,--every
one but Gigi. What a chance to escape, if he were ever to try! The
color leaped into the boy's pale cheeks. Why not? Now or never!
He rose to his feet, pulling his cloak closer about him, and looked
stealthily up and down. The donkey lifted his head and eyed him
wistfully, as if to say, "Oh, take me away, too!" But Gigi paid no
attention to him. He was not cruel, but he had never learned to be
kind. Without a pang, without a farewell to the beast who had been his
companion and fellow-sufferer for so many long months, he turned his
back on the fountain and stole down one of the darkest little side
streets.
He ran on down, constantly down, for the village was on the side of a
hill, and the market-place was at its top. Around sharp curves he
turned, dived under dark archways and through dirty alleys, down
flights of steps, until he was out of breath and too dizzy to go
further. He had come out on the highroad, it seemed. The little brown
cottages were farther apart here. It was more like the country, which
Gigi loved. He turned into an enclosure and hid behind a stack of
straw, panting.
[Illustration: Gigi runs away.]
He wondered if by this time they had discovered his flight, and he
shivered to think of what Tonio and Cecco were saying if it were so.
He looked up and down the road. There was something familiar about it.
Yes, it was surely the road up which they had toiled that very
afternoon, coming from the country and a far-off village. They had
been planning to go on from here down the other side of the hill to the
next village, Gigi knew. But now would they retrace their steps to
look for him?
Just then he spied a black speck moving down the road toward him.
Gigi's heart sank. Could they be after him already? He crouched
closer behind the straw-stack, trembling. They must not find him!
Nearer and nearer came the speck. At last Gigi saw that it was a cart
drawn by a team of white oxen, which accounted for the slowness of the
pace. He sighed with relief. This at least he need not fear. As it
came nearer, Gigi saw that in the cart were a woman and three little
boys of about his own age. And presently, as he watched the lumbering
team curiously, he recognized the very woman who had given him the
silver piece an hour before. These, too, were the little boys who had
faced him in the crowd. A sudden hope sprang into Gigi's heart.
Perhaps she would help him to escape. Perhaps she would at least give
him a lift on his way. He decided to risk it.
IV
THE OX-CART
Gigi waited until the cart was nearly opposite, and he could hear the
voices of the woman and the children talking and laughing together.
Then he crept out from behind the stack and stepped to the side of the
road.
The great, lumbering oxen eyed him curiously, but did not pause. The
children stopped talking, and one of them pointed Gigi out to his
mother.
"Look, Mama! A little boy!"
"Hello!" cried the woman in her hearty, kind voice, stopping the team.
"What are you doing here, little lad?"
She did not recognize Gigi at once in his long traveling cloak. But
suddenly he threw back the folds of it and showed the green tights
underneath.
"Do you remember?" he said. "You told me to run away. Well, I have
done it!"
"It is, the little tumbler! The tumbler, Mama!" cried the boys in one
breath, clapping their hands with pleasure.
But the woman stared blankly. "My faith!" she said at last. "You lost
no time in taking the hint. How did you get here so soon? We were
homeward bound when you had scarcely finished tumbling. Now here you
are before us, on foot!"
"I ran," said Gigi simply. "I came not by the highway, which is long
and winding, but down steep streets like stairs, which brought me here
very quickly."
"See the bruise on his cheek, mother!" cried Beppo, the littlest boy,
pointing. The good woman saw it, and her eyes flashed.
"Oh! Oh!" she clucked. "The wicked men! Did they do that to you?"
"Yes. And they will do more if they catch me now," said Gigi. "I
know. They have beaten me many times till I could not move. But if
they catch me this time, they will kill me because I ran away. Will
you help me?"
"Why, what can I do?" asked the woman uneasily, looking up and down the
road. "If they should come now! You belong to them. I shall get
myself into trouble."
Gigi's face fell. "Very well," he said. "Good-by. You were kind to
me to-day, and I thought--perhaps--" He turned away, with his lips
quivering.
"Stay!" cried the woman. "Where is the silver piece which I gave you?
You can at least buy food and a night's lodging with that."
"They took it from me," said Gigi. "I had to give it up because there
was so little money in the tambourine,--only coppers. They said people
would not pay because I fell; and so they would beat me again."
"They took it from you! The thieves!" cried the woman angrily. "Nay,
then I will indeed help you to escape. Climb in here, boy, among my
youngsters. We have still an hour's ride down the road, and you shall
go so far at least."
Gigi climbed into the cart and nestled down among the children. The
woman clucked to the oxen, and forthwith they moved on down the
highroad. The shadows were beginning to darken, and the birds had
ceased to sing.
"Hiew! Hiew! Come up! Come up!" the woman urged on the great white
oxen. "It is growing late, and the good man will wonder why we are so
long returning from market. This has been our holiday," she explained
to Gigi. "And to think that the Tumblers should have happened to come
to the market this very day! The children will never forget!"
Beppo had been staring at Gigi with fascinated eyes. "How did you
learn?" he asked suddenly. "Could I do it too?"
Gigi laughed. For the first time that day his face lost its sadness,
and the brown spot on his eyelid, falling into one of the little
creases, gave him a very mischievous look. He seemed to wink.
Immediately the whole cartful of peasants began to laugh with him, they
knew not why. They could not help it. This was what happened whenever
Gigi laughed, as he seldom did.
But soon Gigi grew grave once more. "Why do you want to learn?" he
asked. "It does not make me happy. For oh! they are so cruel!"
"Do they beat you much?" asked Paolo sympathetically. Gigi nodded his
head with a sigh. "Very much," he said. "I am always black and blue."
"Am I too big to learn?" demanded Giovanni, the oldest boy, who was
perhaps twelve and heavier than Gigi. "When did you begin?"
Gigi grew thoughtful. "Ever since I remember, I have tumbled," he
said. "Ever since I was a baby, before I could even turn a somersault,
they tossed me back and forth between them and made me kiss my hand to
the people who stood about."
"And did they beat you then?" asked Beppo, doubling up his fists.
Gigi sighed again. "They always beat me," he said simply. "Whatever I
did, they beat me when they were ugly. And that was always."
"Do you belong to them?" asked the woman suddenly. "They are Gypsies,
black men. But you are fair like the people of the North. Where did
they get you, Gigi?"
Gigi shook his head. "I do not know," he said. "I have belonged to
them always, I think."
"Hark!" said Mother Margherita suddenly. "What's that?"
There was a faint noise far off on the road behind them. Gigi
trembled. "They are coming for me!" he said. "What shall I do?"
"No, no," said the woman. "I do not fear that. It is too soon,
surely. But it is growing dark here in the valley. This is a lonely
spot, and there are many wicked men about besides your masters, Gigi."
"Thieves and villains!" whispered Giovanni. "Oh, mother, hide the bag
of silver that you got at market!"
"Sh! Sh!" warned the mother sharply. "Do not speak of it! Hiew,
hiew! Go on! go on!" And she urged the oxen faster.
But the great beasts would not hasten their pace for her. The noise
came nearer. They could hear that it was the trotting of hoofs.
"There is only one animal," said Gigi, whose ears were keen. "I can
hear his four feet patter. I think it is the donkey!"
"I can see him now!" cried Paolo. "It is a little man on a donkey. He
is bending forward and beating it hard."
Gigi strained his eyes to see. "It is Tonio!" he whispered fearfully.
"I know it! Oh, the Hunchback will kill me when he finds me! And he
will take your silver, too!"
"Sh! Sh!" commanded the mother. "He shall not find you. Here, take
this bag, Gigi. It will be safer with you. And here, creep under my
skirts and keep close. He will never guess where you are!"
Mother Margherita spread out her generous draperies, which luckily were
both long and wide, and Gigi crept under them, being wholly covered.
The other boys huddled close, shivering with a not wholly unpleasant
excitement. This was an adventure indeed for a holiday!
The rider drew nearer and nearer, lashing the poor donkey unmercifully.
At last they could see his face, red and lowering.
"Halt!" he cried suddenly. "You in the cart there, halt!"
V
THE HUNCHBACK
The oxen stopped. The cart came to
a standstill. The boys huddled closer,
and Gigi's heart beat like a tambourine.
He was sure that Tonio would hear it.
"What do you want?" asked Mother Margherita,
and her usually kind voice was harsh.
"You seem to have a load of young cubs
there," shouted Tonio. "Have you got my
boy, Gigi the Tumbler, among them? Some
one has stolen the little monster."
[Illustration: "Have you got my boy?"]
"What are you talking about!" answered
Mother Margherita sharply. "I am a respectable
countrywoman returning from market-day
with my children. What business have I
with tumblers and vagrants!"
"That I'll see for myself, woman," said
Tonio, jumping unsteadily down from the
donkey and approaching the cart. Tonio had
been drinking, and his little eyes were red and
fierce.
"Keep your hands off my children!" cried
their plucky mother, brandishing her whip.
But Tonio was not to be kept away.
"I will see them!" he snarled. He thrust
his ugly face into those of the three boys, one
after another, eyeing them sharply in the
growing darkness. But there was little about
these sun-browned, black-eyed youngsters to
suggest the slender, fair-haired Gigi.
Tonio peered into the cart. He even thrust
his long, lean hand into the straw that covered
the floor, and felt about the corners, while the
boys wriggled away from his touch like eels
from a landing-net. Gigi held his breath. But
Mother Margherita would not tamely endure
all this.
"Get along, you vermin!" she cried, striking
at his hands as he approached the forward
end of the cart. "Can't you see that the
boy is not here? What would he be doing in
my cart, anyway? I'll trouble you to let us go
on our way in peace. My man in the house
down yonder will be out to help us with his
crossbow and his dogs, if we scream a bit
louder. Be off with you, and look for your
boy in the village. Is it likely he would have
come so far as this, the poor tired little lad?"
"The others are searching the village,"
growled the Hunchback tipsily. "They'll
find him if he's there. 'Tis likely you are
right. And then! I must be there to help at
the punishing. Oh! that will be sport!--Have
any other teams passed you on the road?" he
asked suddenly. "Have you overtaken no one
on foot?"
"We have passed no one," said Mother
Margherita truthfully, starting up the oxen.
"Hiew! Hiew! Go on! go on," she clucked.
"We must get home to bed."
The Hunchback withdrew from the cart
unsteadily, and mounted his donkey. For a
moment he looked doubtfully up and down
the road, then he turned the poor tired animal's
head once more toward the village, and they
began to plod back up the slope.
"The Lord forgive me!" whispered Mother
Margherita piously. "I told a lie, and before
my children, too! But it was to spare a child
suffering, perhaps death. Surely, the Lord
who loves little children will forgive me this sin."
So the good woman mused, as, faint with
terror and gasping for breath, Gigi came out
from under her skirts. He handed back the
bag of silver, and gave a sigh of relief. The
little boys seized him rapturously.
"You are saved, Gigi!" cried Paolo.
"He will never find you now," said Giovanni.
"See, we are almost home! You shall come
and live with us and teach us how to tumble!"
cried Beppo, hugging his new friend closely.
But Mother Margherita interrupted him.
"Not so fast, not so fast, children," she
warned. "Gigi is saved for now. But we may
be able to do little more for him. Your father
is master in the house, remember. Your father
may not be pleased with what we have done.
Never promise what you may not be able to
give, my Beppo." And she fell to musing
again rather uneasily.
The boys were all suddenly silent, and Gigi,
who had warmed to their kindness, felt a
sudden chill. He had not thought of anything
beyond the safety of the moment. He had
made no plans, he had only hoped vaguely
that these good people might help him. But
now, what was to happen next? Was there
still something more to fear?
Suddenly the flash of a lantern lighted the
road ahead. A man's voice hailed them loudly.
"Hello! Hello! Will you never be coming home?"
"Father! It is father!" cried the three boys
in an answering shout. Then with a common
thought they all stopped short, and Gigi felt
them looking at him in the darkness.
"What will he think of Gigi?" he heard
Beppo whisper to his brothers.
"Sh!" warned Mother Margherita. And
the man's voice sounded nearer.
"Hello, old woman!" it called gruffly.
"Well, you did come back, didn't you?
I began to believe that you had all run away."
"Run away!" There was a little pause
before any one answered. And Gigi felt
the elbows of the boys nudging him in the side.
"Father's angry!" they whispered. "Father
is terrible when he is angry. You had better
look out!"
Then Gigi knew that there was something
else to fear that night. And his heart sank.
Was there to be no end of his troubles?
VI
THE SILVER PIECE
The team stopped in front of a stone cottage, from the window of which
the light shone hospitably. They all jumped down from the cart, and
under cover of the darkness Mother Margherita hustled Gigi with the
other boys into the house, while Giuseppe, the father, cared for the
oxen.
The mother busied herself in preparing supper, and the boys scattered
about on various errands. But Gigi sat in a corner by the fire, too
tired to move or speak. He had thrown off his long cloak, and the fire
glanced brightly upon the green and gold costume of this quaint little
figure, so out of place in the simple cottage. Presently Giuseppe
entered with a heavy tread, and paused in amazement at what he saw on
his hearthstone.
"Hello!" he cried gruffly. "What's this?"
Mother Margherita came forward quickly. "It is a little tumbler," she
said. "We saw him do his tricks at the market to-day. The Gypsies
beat him, and he has run away. Let us give him at least supper and a
shelter for the night, Giuseppe?" Her tone was beseeching.
"Hum!" grumbled Giuseppe doubtfully. "A runaway! A tumbler! A thief,
I dare say, as well. A pretty fellow to bring into an honest man's
house! His master will be after him, and then we shall all get into
trouble for sheltering a runaway. Margherita, you were always a
foolish woman! Is this all you have to show for market-day? Where is
the money?"
"Here it is, Giuseppe," said the mother, handing him the bag of silver,
which he thrust into his pocket. "Now let us have supper. You can
count the silver afterward, and we will tell you about everything when
that is over."
With a very bad grace the father watched the little stranger timidly
take his place at the board between Paolo and Giovanni, Beppo crying
because he could not have the tumbler next to him also.
There was much to talk about at that meal. They had to describe the
holiday at market, which was a great event for the little family. Then
there were the Tumblers; and the adventure of Gigi and the
Hunchback,--that was the most exciting of all. And how near they came
to losing the bag of silver which they had earned by selling their
vegetables at the market! Giuseppe asked Gigi many questions, not
unkindly, but with a bluntness that made the boy wince. And often
Mother Margherita spoke up for him, with a kind answer. Gigi grew
paler and paler, and his food lay almost untouched on his plate. He
was too tired to eat.
At last, when supper was finished. Mother Margherita rose and lighted
a candle. "Come with me, Gigi," she said, "and I will show you where
you are to sleep this night."
Gigi followed her readily, glad to escape further questioning, and
eager to rest his aching head. The little boys called after him a
hearty good-night. But Giuseppe saw him go without a word, casting
sidewise looks after the retreating figures, and grunting sourly.
There was no room for Gigi in the loft where the family slept. But out
in the stable, beside the oxen, was a fresh pile of straw, a fine bed
for the tired little wanderer. When Mother Margherita had bidden him a
kind good-night and had closed the stable door behind her, Gigi threw
himself upon the straw and was almost Instantly asleep. The oxen
breathed gently beside him, chewing their cud. Everything was still
and peaceful. And the night passed.
"Cock-a-doodle-doo!" crowed the first cock, speaking the same tongue
that he learned at the beginning of the world, and that he always uses
in every land, among every people.
It was but a few moments later when Gigi was awakened suddenly by a
touch on his shoulder. The boy opened his eyes and stared about,
bewildered. He did not know where he was. Who was this bending over
him in the dim light? Not Tonio; not Cecco; not the Giant? Then he
recognized Mother Margherita, stooping low with a pitiful expression on
her face. She had a little bundle in her hand.
"Get up, Gigi," she whispered. "You must be off. My man is so angry!
He vows he will take you to the village to-day and give you up to your
masters. He thinks you are a thief, Gigi. But I do not believe that
you stole the silver piece."
"The silver piece!" cried Gigi, still more bewildered.
"Sh!" cautioned the woman, laying a hand on his lips. "Giuseppe must
not know that I am here. He sleeps still. When we counted the money
in the bag we found it short by one piece of silver, besides the one I
gave you. That was my own to do with as I chose. But he believes that
you stole another when you were holding the bag for me, hiding under my
skirts."
"I did not take it!" cried Gigi, wide-awake now. "Oh, I would not
steal from you,--not from you, the only person who was ever kind to me!"
"There, there! I told him so!" said the good woman soothingly. "I
told him I must have lost it at the market when I was making change for
somebody. But he will not believe. You must be off, Gigi, before he
wakes, or you will have to go back to those cruel fellows. Giuseppe is
so set! Like a mule he is when he is angry!"
Gigi sprang to his feet and looked wildly around. "Where shall I go?
What shall I do?" he asked.
Mother Margherita looked at the pale little lad and her eyes filled.
"Poor little fellow!" she sighed. "Suppose you were one of my boys,
Beppo or Paolo! But we must lose no time"; and she dashed the tears
from her eyes. "Here is your cloak to hide that gaudy dress. And here
is a bundle of food,--all I could spare without the good man's
knowledge. For it must seem that you have run away of your own accord.
I know that will make him sure that you are a thief. But I dare not
let him guess that I have warned you and helped you to escape. You do
not know Giuseppe's anger!--Farewell, dear little lad, and may the
Saints have you in their keeping."
She led him to the door and pointed out the direction, in the gray
dawn. She showed him where, to the north, by a great tree, a lane
branched from the highroad. "Follow that," she said. "It will be
safer in case you are pursued. And it comes at last to the great road
into another country. There perhaps you will be safe and find friends
who can help you more than I have done. Though none can wish you
better." And she hugged him close. "Farewell, Gigi!"
VII
THE WANDERER
With a lump in his throat, Gigi left the only roof that had ever shown
him kindness. In the gray dawn he crept out to the highroad. There
was no time to be lost, for already the east was growing pink, and soon
the sun would be making long shadows on the open road. Giuseppe would
surely spy him and bring him back.
As soon as he was outside the farm enclosure, Gigi began to run. But
he found that he was stiff and sore from his fall of the day before,
and from the many beatings which he had received of late. Every bone
in his body ached, and especially his head, which throbbed so as to
make him faint. Still he ran on. For more than anything else he
feared being captured and sent back to the Gypsies.
At last Gigi came to the great tree where branched the cross-road to
the north. Here he turned aside. Then he drew a deep breath, feeling
safer. He ceased running, and presently, being hungry and tired, he
sat down upon a stone and opened the bundle which Mother Margherita had
given him. He found bread and cheese, and began to eat greedily, until
he remembered that he knew not where he should find dinner and supper.
He looked at the remnant of bread and cheese longingly, but at last
wrapped it up and put it back into the little pouch which, as was the
custom in those times, he wore at his belt.
The lane upon which he was now traveling was shadier than the highroad,
and as he went on the trees grew even taller and bigger. Apparently
the way was leading through the outskirts of a forest. The lane was
more crooked, also. Gigi could not see far either before or behind
him, because of the constant turnings.
Suddenly, he stopped short and listened. There was a sound; yes, there
certainly was a sound on the road behind him,--the noise of galloping
hoofs.
Gigi was seized with a panic. Without stopping to think, he plunged
from the road into the forest, and began to run wildly through the
underbrush. He did not care in which direction he went,--anywhere, as
far as possible from the pursuing hoof-beats.
On, on he plunged, sometimes sprawling over roots of trees, sometimes
bruising himself against low branches or stumbling upon stones which
seemed to rise up on purpose to delay him; torn by briars and tripped
by clutching vines. But always he ran on and on, this way and that,
wherever there seemed an opening in the forest, which was continually
growing denser and more wild.
How long he wandered he did not know. The sun was high in the heavens
when at last, wholly exhausted, Gigi fell upon a bank of moss. His
weary bones ached. He was too tired to move, but lay there motionless,
and presently he fell into a troubled sleep. When he awoke with a
start, it was growing dark, and he was very hungry. He felt for the
pouch into which he had put his bits of bread and cheese, but it was
gone! He must have lost it when pushing through the bushes.
What was he to do? He knew he must find his way back to the highroad,
where he could perhaps beg a supper at some cottage. But how was he to
know which way to go? He looked up and around him in despair. He was
in the midst of the wildest kind of forest. The trees grew close
together, and there was no path, no sign that men had ever passed this
way.
Moreover, it was growing darker every minute. Already the shadows
behind the trees were black and terrible. Gigi suddenly remembered
that there were fierce animals in the forests. In those days, all over
Europe bears and wolves and many kinds of wild beasts, large and small,
wandered wherever there were trees and hiding-places; in fact, one
might meet them anywhere except in cities and towns. And sometimes in
winter, when they were very hungry, bold wolves prowled even in the
market-places.
Gigi shuddered. He dared not think of sleep, alone in this dreadful
place. He must try to find the road. Once more he crawled to his feet
and began to stagger through the darkness, groping with his hands to
ward off the branches which scratched his face and the thorns which
tore his garments into rags.
Now there began to be strange sounds in the forest. The birds had
ceased to sing, save for a chirp now and then as Gigi's passing wakened
some tired songster. But there were other noises which Gigi did not
understand, and which set his heart to knocking fearfully; the cracking
of twigs far off and near at hand; little scurries in the underbrush as
he approached; now and then the crash of something bounding through the
bushes in the distance; sometimes a squeak or a chatter which sounded
terrible to the little boy's unaccustomed ears. And finally, far off
in the forest, came a long, low howl that set his teeth to chattering.
Was it a wolf? The thought was more than Gigi could bear. He fainted,
and fell forward into a bed of soft green moss.
VIII
THE RESCUE
Gigi must have lain all night where he fell. For when he opened his
eyes the sun was shining dimly through the dense leaves of the tree
overhead. He remembered only the last thing he had heard before his
eyes closed,--that long howl in the darkness. So it was with a thrill
of terror that he felt a strange touch on his face. Something warm and
wet was passing over his cheek. Something soft and warm was cuddling
close to his side. He thrust out his hand feebly, groping at something
to help him rise. His fingers closed in thick, soft hair. Suddenly
Gigi knew what was happening to his face. Some big animal was licking
it with a coarse but gentle tongue!
Was it the wolf that had howled? A dreadful thought! Gigi screamed
aloud. He struck at the creature with all the strength he had, which
was little enough.
"Get away! Go along with you!" he cried in Gypsy gibberish.
In answer, the animal uttered a whine, very gentle, very piteous; and
it began to lick the hand which had struck it.
Gigi's eyes had now grown used to the half-light. Suddenly he saw what
had lain beside him, keeping him warm all night. It was a great shaggy
dog, brown and white. Around his neck was a heavy collar of leather
studded with nails. Gigi did not like dogs. The only ones he knew had
always chased the Tumblers and barked at them as they entered or left a
village. Sometimes they had snapped at Gigi's heels so viciously that
he had cried out. And then Cecco would cuff him for making a fuss.
But this dog seemed friendly. He looked up in Gigi's face, and wagged
his tail pleasantly. He whined and put his nose in Gigi's hand; then
he got to his feet and ran away a few steps, looking back at the boy
and waiting. Gigi did not know what it meant. But when the dog saw
that the boy was not following, he went back and repeated his action.
Several times he did this, and still Gigi lay looking at him, too tired
and too weak to make an effort, even to think. At last the dog came
back once more. This time he took Gigi's hand between his teeth, very
gently, and began to pull him in the direction toward which he had
first gone. Then Gigi knew. The dog was trying to lead him somewhere!
A throb of hope warmed his heart. Perhaps this was a friend who would
bring him out of the dreadful forest to some place where he could eat.
For oh, he was so hungry! He dragged himself to his feet, and tried to
follow, leaning a hand on the dog's neck. The creature was wild with
joy, and began to bark and wag his tail furiously. Even this motion
made the boy totter, he was so weak. He took a few steps, then he had
to stop. He was sore all over, dizzy and faint. He lay down on the
ground with his head between his hands. And once more the good dog
crept near and poked his wet nose into Gigi's face, licking his cheek.
The boy reached out a hand and patted him timidly. It was the first
time Gigi had ever felt friendly toward an animal!
When the dog found that it was of no use to try to lead Gigi on, he sat
still and seemed to think for a few moments. Then he came close and
crouched in the moss beside Gigi, whining softly and rubbing his nose
against the boy's knee. Evidently he wanted his new friend to do
something. The boy looked at him wearily, and wondered. He took hold
of the collar about the dog's neck. Yes! that was it! The dog barked
and wagged his tail, but did not move. He was still waiting. Gigi
looked at the big fellow lying there. He was almost as large as the
little donkey who bore the luggage of the Tumblers upon their journeys.
He was big enough to carry Gigi himself. Was that what the creature
meant?
Gigi lifted one leg over the dog's back, keeping hold of the collar as
tightly as he could. The animal rose to his feet with a glad bark.
Yes, this was what he wanted. He began to move forward slowly, for
Gigi was a heavy burden and his feet nearly touched the ground.
Slowly they moved through the forest, a quaint pair of wanderers.
Sometimes Gigi felt faint and ill, and lay forward, resting his head on
the dog's soft neck. Sometimes they stopped to rest. Then Gigi lay
flat on the moss, with the dog stretched out close to his side. But
they were both unwilling to waste many minutes so.
[Illustration: A quaint pair of wanderers.]
IX
THE ANIMAL KINGDOM
Presently Gigi and the dog came to a clearing in the forest. All about
was as wild as anything they had passed. But here, quite alone, stood
a little hut made of logs and branches twisted together.
The first thing that Gigi saw, after the hut itself, was an old man in
a coarse gray gown, sitting on a stump, reading a book. His head was
bare, and he had a long white beard. His feet were bare, too, and he
wore leather sandals. A rope was tied about his waist. Gigi had
sometimes seen men so dressed plodding along the highroad or begging
from the townsfolk. If he thought about them at all, he believed them
to be some rival sort of performers, like the Tumblers themselves. It
seemed very queer to see one of the Gray Men here in the lonely
forest,--and with such strange companions! Gigi stared and stared
again, rubbing his tired eyes to make sure that they saw aright.
On the old man's knees was curled, asleep, a comfortable white cat.
Three little kittens played with the knotted ends of his girdle,
swarming up and down the gray gown of the reader. On his shoulder
perched a squirrel, busily eating a nut which he held in his little
paws. Close by, a brown and white deer grazed about the door of the
little hut. A great black raven hopped gravely about the old man's
feet, now and then picking up a bug. Lying peacefully asleep in front
of the hut door, like a yellow mat of fur, a fox was stretched. In and
out among the rose-bushes of a tiny garden which was planted beneath
the window of the hut, hopped several brown hares, seeming much at
home. The old man's head nodded forward on his book. He could sleep
soundly, it seemed, with all these little live things swarming about
him. Even as his gray locks swept the page, a thrush fluttered down
and lighted gently on the bald crown, beginning to sing so sweetly that
Gigi held his breath.
All this the boy saw in that first glimpse before he and the dog parted
the bushes and came out into the clearing. In that instant everything
changed. The dog gave a sharp bark of pleasure. The old man let the
book fall from his hand, and sat staring. The animals leaped from
their slumbers and scuttled away in every direction, some into the hut,
some into the neighboring bushes, some melting as if by magic into the
forest. The squirrel and the thrush took shelter in the treetops.
Only the raven, with ruffled feathers, remained at the old man's side,
turning a fierce little eye upon the newcomer.
By this time Gigi had thrown himself from the dog's back, and stood
feebly leaning against a tree. Released from his burden, the dog
bounded forward, and was soon leaping upon the old man's shoulders,
covering his face and hands and feet with eager kisses.
"Down, Brutus, down!" said the old man, in a tongue which Gigi could
not understand. "Where hast thou been so long, good dog? And what new
pet hast thou brought for my colony?" He looked towards Gigi with
keen, kind eyes. "Come hither, my lad," he said in the same tongue.
But Gigi only stared, not understanding. He was growing afraid of this
queer old man, who spoke a strange language and had wild animals for
his friends; who read, too, in a great black book! Gigi had heard of
wicked wizards and sorcerers, and he believed that he saw one now. He
turned about and tried to run away. But his poor head grew dizzy, and
before he knew it he had fallen, and lay sobbing and shivering, unable
to rise.
Presently he felt the dog's gentle tongue licking his face. A moment
after, kind, strong arms lifted him and bore him into the little hut.
The old man laid Gigi on a cot beside the window, and after laying his
hand on the boy's head and wrist, went away and returned with something
in a cup.
"Drink this, my child," he said. And this time Gigi understood. He
drank and felt better. Then the old man asked him in the tongue which
Gigi knew, "Are you hungry, lad?"
The boy nodded, and his eyes must have told how nearly starved he was.
The old man went swiftly to a little cupboard in the wall, and soon
came back with bread and milk in an earthen bowl.
"Eat," he said, lifting Gigi's head on his arm. "Eat this good bread,
my son, and drink the warm milk of my friend the doe, which I had just
set aside, not expecting you. Then you shall sleep here on my pallet.
And soon we shall be right smiling and happy all!"
The kind old eyes beamed on Gigi while he devoured his breakfast like a
starved animal, without a word of thanks. When he had finished, the
kind old hands brought water and bathed the tired body, bound up the
bleeding hands and feet with refreshing ointment, and laid Gigi back
again to rest upon the cot beside the rose-screened window.
There Gigi lay and slept; slept and dreamed; dreamed and went over
again by fits and starts the strange adventures of the past two days.
But strangest of all, though by far the pleasantest, was that picture
which he had seen when he came out into the clearing upon the back of
Brutus. And this picture, with queer variations, filled the foreground
of Gigi's dreaming.
X
THE HERMIT
_They shall not hurt nor destroy in all my holy mountain; for the earth
shall be full of the knowledge of the Lord, as the waters cover the
sea_.--HOLY WRIT.
For three days Gigi lay on the pallet of the good Hermit, near to
death. And for three days the great dog lay on guard by his side. The
Hermit went softly to and fro, taking tender care of the boy and giving
him medicine made from wonderful herbs which he had found in the woods.
Often he knelt in a corner of the hut, before a rude wooden Cross, and
said prayers; this seemed to give him strength for his work and hope
for its result. So that when he rose, his face would be bright and
happy.
This was he doing the third morning when Gigi awoke, feeling better.
The ache was gone from his limbs and the dizziness from his head. He
awoke with a long sigh, and for the first time since he lay down on the
Hermit's pallet he looked around him with interest. At first he did
not know where he was.
The hut was small and bare. In one corner was a cupboard where the
Hermit kept his scanty supply of food and the medicines which he
distilled. Against the wall was a bench, beside a table made of a
tree-stump, and on the table lay a great black book. Opposite the bed
was the Cross of wood fastened to the wall, and below it the good
Hermit knelt with bowed head. Gigi wondered what he was doing. He
himself knew no prayers.