moved feebly and its eyes opened. "Ah! One of them still lives!" he
cried eagerly. "Perhaps I can save its life, the dear little thing!"
He took the gray body up in his arms and hugged it tenderly, but it
made no response. Then, laying it down again on the leaves, he drew
from his basket a crust of bread which he had brought to nibble while
he walked. (It is such fun to have something to nibble when one goes
for a ramble in the woods!) John ran to the brook which babbled close
by, and, dipping the bread in the water until it was soft, returned to
put some in the mouth of the little gray thing that lay so pitifully on
the leaves.
"Eat, little brother!" said John.
Brutus looked on gravely. The puppy opened its mouth feebly and
swallowed a bit of bread. After the first taste it grew eager, and
began to nibble hungrily. John gave it all he had, and was overjoyed
to see it gradually gain strength. But still it could not stand on its
weak little legs.
"We must take him home, Brutus," said John. "We will make him well and
strong, then we shall have another little dog to be your baby brother."
Brutus said nothing, though perhaps he knew better. Presently he was
trotting homeward; tracing backward, as no human being could have done,
the winding way by which they had come through the dense forest.
Behind him came John, carrying the little gray creature tenderly in his
arms, and with the basket full of flowers on his back. And so at last
they reached the hut, in the door of which stood the Hermit, shading
his eyes and looking anxiously for them.
"My son!" he cried gladly when they appeared. "You were gone so long
that I feared you were lost, even with Brutus to guide you. It is
after sundown. Where have you been, and what do you bring there?"
"We have been--I know not where," said John; "farther than I have gone
since I came to the forest. It must be near the homes of men. For
see! We have found a little dog! His brothers were lying dead beside
him; I think they were starved to death. But this one lives, and some
day I hope he will grow into a big dog like Brutus,--though indeed he
does not look much like him now!"
So John prattled eagerly, laying the little creature in the old man's
arms. But the Hermit looked at it and looked again. Then he smiled at
John.
"Ah, Son!" he said. "This will never be a dog like Brutus. You have
brought home a baby wolf!"
"A wolf!" cried John. "He looks quite like a puppy, and he is gentle,
too!"
"They are much alike," said the Hermit. "You saved this poor little
cub in good time, John. He is very weak. Probably his mother was
killed by some hunters, who left her little ones there to starve. That
is what they do, John, never stopping to think what suffering they
cause. But let us now feed this little fellow with warm milk, and we
shall soon have him as gay as ever. I am glad that you brought him,
John. We needed a wolf-brother in our kingdom."
"But, Father! a wolf!" cried John, with a shudder. He had not
forgotten the horror of his first night alone in the forest, and the
long howl which had made him lose his senses. "Oh, will he not grow
big and eat us up, my father? Yes; that was why Brutus acted so
strangely. He knew it was no puppy, although I told him so."
"It is quite safe to keep him, John," said the Hermit. "We cannot turn
him out to starve, for he is too young to care for himself. You will
see to-morrow that he will play like any puppy. Brutus and he will be
great friends,--they are relatives already. Once upon a time Brutus
had a wolf for his ancestor. And as we ourselves know not from whom we
may be descended, so must we treat all creatures as our brothers. Yes,
this wolfkin will grow up lean and ugly-looking, like any wolf. But we
will teach him to be kind and gentle, John, even as Brutus is."
And the Hermit was right. The wolf-cub soon became the pet and
plaything of the animal kingdom. With food and care he grew into a
round, roly-poly ball of fur. He played merrily with Brutus and the
kittens. And though at first he was a bit rough, they and John taught
him better ways, so that he kicked and bit his friends no longer.
As the months went by, they watched him change gradually from cub to
wolf. They were sorry to see him lose his puppy looks and frisky
manners. But what could they do? It is a great pity, but no one has
yet discovered how to make babies of any sort remain babies. Gradually
he lost his roundness. He grew longer and longer, until he was
stretched out into four feet of gaunt yellowish-gray wolf. But still
he remained quiet and gentle with his friends, quick to learn and ready
to obey.
He was a perfectly good wolf, and he loved John so dearly that he could
scarcely be separated from him. He followed the boy wherever he went,
and lay down beside him when he slept, like any watch-dog. And though
he was so gentle in the animal kingdom, the Hermit knew that it would
go hard with any one who should try to hurt Wolf's little master.
Yet he and Brutus were the best of friends. The good dog was too noble
to be jealous.
XV
THE GREEN STRANGER
For five happy years John lived with the good Hermit, and became a
sturdy lad of fourteen before anything new happened of great moment to
the animal kingdom. In all this time he had seen no human creature
except the Hermit himself. Their hut was so far in the forest that no
travelers ever passed that way.
But John was never lonely, for he had the kindest of fathers in the
Hermit, and the happiest of comrades and playmates in the circle of
pets, ever increasing, who gathered about the abode of peace. Brutus
was still his dearest friend. But the wolf was almost as intimate. As
for Bruin, he was never a constant dweller with the colony, but came
and went at will. Sometimes he disappeared for weeks at a time, and
they knew that he was wandering through the forest which stretched for
miles in every direction, pathless and uninhabited. And sometimes they
wondered what adventures the big brother might be enjoying.
"If only he could tell me!" wished John. But this kind of gossip was
still impossible between them.
One day John was out in the forest, not far from the Hermit's hut,
cutting wood for the winter, which was near at hand. He was alone, for
a wonder. The wolf had come with him, but had now trotted away into
the forest on business of his own. The bear had disappeared some weeks
before, on one of his pilgrimages. Brutus was at that moment with the
Hermit in the hut; for the dog divided his attentions between the young
friend and the old.
John had lifted his axe to attack a certain tree when, with a scurry of
little feet, a frightened hare came bounding past him, ears laid back
and eyes bulging with fear. It was so strange to see a startled
creature in this peaceful wood, that John dropped his axe wonderingly.
Then he noted that the birds were chattering nervously overhead, and
his quick ear caught furtive rustlings in the underbrush all around
him. The forest was alive with fears. Presently the wolf came
bounding past, with wild eyes, evidently making for the hut. John
called, but the frightened creature did not pause.
Very soon John heard over his shoulder an unusual sound. He turned
quickly, and saw a sight which made his heart rise in his throat.
Across an open glade in the wood his friend the bear was lumbering on
all fours, wild-eyed, with lolling tongue and panting breath. Close
behind him came on foot a young man, several years older than John,
dressed in a suit of green velvet, with a plumed cap. In his hand he
bore a long spear, and he was charging upon the bear with a cruel light
in his eyes. Suddenly Bruin made for a tree, and began to climb,
clutching the bark frantically with his claws. At sight of his prey
about to escape, the stranger gave a loud, fierce cry and dashed
forward, at the same time drawing from behind his shoulder a bow such
as men used in hunting. He fitted an arrow to the string, and was
about to shoot, when John sprang forward with blazing eyes.
"You shall not shoot!" he cried. "This is a peaceful wood. You shall
not kill my friend the bear."
[Illustration: You shall not kill my friend the bear.]
At this unexpected happening, the young man turned with a start and a
snarl, like a dog from whom one would take away his bone.
"Who are you?" he cried angrily. "How dare you interrupt my sport! Do
you know who I am?"
"I do not care who you are!" answered John. "You shall not hunt in
these woods, You must go away."
"Go away!"
The face of the stranger was white with rage. He turned from the tree
in which the bear had now found a place of safety behind a crotch, and
pointed his arrow at John. The lad saw his danger. Even as the
stranger drew the arrow to its head John leaped forward; before the
other knew what was happening, John seized him in his arms and with a
mighty effort wrenched away the weapon. It was wonderful how easily he
mastered this fellow, who was some inches taller than himself.
Beside himself with rage, the stranger grappled with John, and then
began a wrestling match strange to see. If the bear up in the tree
knew what it all meant, he must have been very much excited.
The two lads clinched, swayed, and finally fell to the ground, rolling
over and over. The stranger pummeled and kicked, scratched and bit.
John merely defended himself, holding his enemy firmly and trying to
keep him under. It was easy to see that he was the stronger of the
two. Presently the young man began to weaken, and at last John felt
the stranger's body grow limp in his clutch. He felt a thrill of
triumph such as the Hermit certainly had never taught him. But
suddenly, remembering the duty of a noble foe, he rose to his feet,
leaving the stranger lying where he was.
He was not badly hurt. Presently he also rose, sullenly, and pulled on
his cap which had fallen off. John had taken possession of his spear
and bow. He now gravely handed an arrow to the young man.
"You may keep that," he said politely. "I think you can do no harm
with that."
The stranger turned crimson, and his face was wicked to see.
"You shall pay for this!" he spluttered, with sobs in his voice. "No
one can injure me without danger. You shall--"
At this moment, not far away in the direction of the Hermit's hut, a
horn sounded. Once, twice, thrice, it blew vigorously, as if giving a
command. Both John and the stranger started.
"I must go!" muttered the latter to himself. "Needs must at that
call." And without another word or glance at John, he ran to his
horse, which was tethered close by, and was soon galloping away in the
direction of the bugle-call.
Trembling with excitement and with alarm at this coming of strangers to
the forest which so long had been at peace, John hurried back to the
hut. But Bruin remained safe in his tree.
He seemed to have no wish to come down And learn what all these strange
doings meant.
XVI
THE HUNT
John found the Hermit sitting as usual beside the door of his hut,
reading his book. He was surrounded by his family of pets. Brutus
bounded to meet John, but the boy was too excited to give him the usual
caress.
"Father!" he cried, "have you heard or seen nothing? There are
strangers in the forest, wicked strangers who hunt our friends the
beasts. I have but now come from such a terrible scene!"
He covered his face with his hands. The Hermit started to his feet.
"What has happened?" he quavered. "Just now the wolf came leaping into
the hut; but I feared nothing. Your clothes are torn. Your face is
bloody. Who has been hurting you, my son?"
But before John could answer came again the call of a bugle, this time
very near, "_Tara_! _Tara_! _Tara_!"
"Huntsmen!" cried the Hermit. "Send Brutus into the hut." John drove
the dog inside, and some of the house-pets with him. Already the
others had taken alarm at the threatening noise and were scattering in
every direction.
Nearer and nearer came the sound of galloping hoofs, the baying of
hounds, the shouts of many men. John and the Hermit stood with pale
faces, waiting.
Suddenly into the clearing bounded a frightened deer,--a slender
dappled creature with brown eyes. Straight to the Hermit she ran, and
dropped panting at his feet.
"It is our doe!" cried John, his face turning whiter. "O father! They
are hunting her!"
The old man said nothing, but stooped and threw his mantle over the
trembling creature. Hardly had he done so when the hounds burst into
the clearing, barking fiercely, rushing towards the spot where the deer
lay.
The Hermit raised his staff and stepped forward with a quick word.
Instantly the dogs paused, cringing. They snarled and snapped their
teeth, but made no motion to draw nearer. There was another loud
bugle-blast, and a group of horsemen burst into the open space.
"Hola! Hola! The stand!" cried the foremost rider, flourishing his
sword. The others clustered about this leader. He was a tall, oldish
man, red-faced and fierce-eyed. Like the stranger whom John had met,
he was magnificently dressed in green velvet, with a gold chain about
his neck, and a star blazing on his breast. He wore also a green cap
bound with a gold band, from which a golden feather drooped to his
shoulder. The gloves which he wore, the baldric of his bugle, and the
hilt of the sword which he brandished aloft, glittered with jewels.
When he spied the Hermit standing with upraised staff over the deer,
while the dogs cowered at his feet, he drew up his horse and gave a
shout of wonder. Then once more there was a moment of intense silence
in that spot whose quiet had been broken by such a din. Thereafter the
splendid leader of the hunt spoke in a brutal voice.
"Ho! Who are you who interrupt our hunt and stand between us and our
quarry? Stand aside, old man, whoever you are. This is no place for
you. The deer is ours." He flourished his jeweled sword eagerly.
"I shall not stand aside," said the Hermit. "This doe is mine, my
friend and companion. Her milk has nourished me many a day, and she
shall not die in this place which is my home."
"Shall not die?" cried the huntsman hoarsely. "Do you know to whom you
speak?"
"I can guess," said the Hermit quietly. "From his cruelty and his free
speech I judge it must be he who calls himself king of the realm beyond
this forest."
"King of this forest and lord of all that dwell therein," shouted the
huntsman ferociously. "And who are you who dare oppose me?"
"I am a hermit," said the old man simply. "My service is to God, whom
you dishonor. My friends are the creatures whom you hunt. My study is
to save life, which you would destroy. Depart, and leave in peace this
place where life is sacred."
"Depart!" roared the King, while his nobles crowded around him,
murmuring and bending threatening looks upon the Hermit and the lad.
"Not till yonder animal is slain. Ho, have at her!"
With prick of spur he urged his horse forward. But quick as thought
the Hermit with his staff drew a circle around himself and John and the
doe, which still lay panting at his feet, wrapped in the gray mantle.
"Dare not to cross this line!" he cried. "This ground is holy. Years
ago in the Father's name I consecrated it. 'Tis holy as any cathedral,
and 'tis sanctuary for man and beast. Hear what the Lord says to you:
'They shall not hurt nor destroy in all my holy mountain.'"
The Hermit raised his hand and spoke a word to the horses that were
being urged forward. With a shrill whinny they rose on their hind
legs, pawing the air, and refused to advance.
"What witchcraft is this!" cried the King, spurring his steed cruelly.
But the animal, like the dogs, obeyed the Hermit's will rather than the
King's.
"No witchcraft," said the Hermit, still guarding the deer with his
upraised staff. "It is the Lord's will. You, who have ever disobeyed
His holy word, perhaps know not how dear to Him were the birds and
beasts. His first companions. His childhood friends. And to this
day, for He Himself hath said it, not a sparrow falleth without His
knowledge and pity. O wicked man! How then can you delight to kill?"
The King gazed at the Hermit like one in a dream. "How dare you say
such things to me, your King?" he said at last.
"You are no king of mine, thank God!" said the Hermit. "I am an exile.
I am of no land. This forest is my domain, my animal kingdom. Depart,
I beg, without more bloodshed. O King, already in time past the hunt
has cost you dear. Will you not take heed lest the Lord punish you
further for your sins?"
The King turned pale. "This is certainly witchcraft!" he muttered.
"What know you of the past?" he cried, almost as if against his will.
"I know much," said the Hermit calmly. "I know that hunting cost the
life of your eldest son. Will you not heed that warning, lest more ill
befall?"
There was a stir among the nobles, and John saw the young man with whom
he had wrestled a short time before spur his horse forward to the
King's side. His face was black and angry.
"Sire--father," he said. "Will you not end this parley and slay them
all? I would have a hand in it for the sake of that young cub there!"
and he shook his fist toward John. But more he did not say; perhaps he
was ashamed to tell how the wood-boy had got the best of him.
"Ay," said the Hermit, pointing a finger at him and shaking it sadly.
"The second son follows in the footsteps of his brother, and like his
father is cruel, bloodthirsty, revengeful. Beware, O King! Beware,
King's son! For happiness was never yet distilled from innocent blood,
nor life from death."
The King shuddered, as all could see. "I hunt," he said,--and it was
strange to see how he was almost apologetic,--"I hunt all animals
mercilessly, because through them the Prince my son was slain. I will
hunt them out of my kingdom, until not one remains. I will slay them
until the ground is soaked with their blood! Not an animal, save such
as are of use, shall exist in all my land. I will have no pets--no
singing birds. I hate them all!"
"Ay," said the Hermit, shaking his head sadly, "you hate them all! But
I love them all. And here they come to me. 'The sparrow hath found a
house and the swallow a nest where she may lay her young.' I will
protect them with my life. You dare not kill me, O King! Godless
though you are, once you were a Christian, and you know the meaning of
the words I spoke when I said that this was holy ground."
He drew from his bosom the iron Cross which he wore, and held it up
before the King.
The monarch shrank back and seemed to hesitate. Suddenly he wheeled
his horse and blew a blast upon his bugle. "Back!" he cried somewhat
bitterly. "We will not linger here for a paltry doe. Let us leave
this cursed wood and this crusty hermit. Back to our own demesne,
where we shall find sport enough, I dare say."
Once more he blew his horn and bounded forward out of the clearing; the
nobles after him, and the cowed, disappointed dogs trailing at the rear
with tails between their legs. John could not help feeling sorry for
them. Poor things! They at least knew no better.
John was just stooping to pet the frightened deer, when an arrow
whizzed over his shoulder and struck the creature in the haunch. The
poor animal gave a cry of pain, and blood dyed the gray mantle of the
Hermit, the first blood shed in that place of peace.
With a shout of anger John leaped up and looked over his shoulder. A
familiar wicked face grinned back at him, as a horse and rider galloped
into the forest. The King's son had skulked behind to shoot that shaft.
"My son!" cried the Hermit, laying trembling hands on John's shoulder.
"It was meant for you. You would have died had you not stooped at that
moment to caress the doe."
"Poor doe!" said John, kneeling beside her and busying himself with the
arrow. "You have saved my life. Now we must save yours. My father, I
think she is not badly hurt."
And he began to stanch the blood and bind up the wound with the skill
which the Hermit had taught him.
But the old man stood for a long time gazing into the forest after the
party of huntsmen. "A murderer and a coward," he said. "In sanctuary
he has shed innocent blood. For many evil deeds the price will surely
be paid. And the price is heavy."
XVII
THE MESSENGER
The little deer was not greatly hurt by the cowardly hunter. John and
the Hermit nursed her tenderly, and so great was their knowledge of
healing balms that she was soon nibbling the grass about their
dooryard, as sprightly as ever, save for a slight lameness in one leg.
Bruin was with them once more, a constant guest in the little circle.
The fright of that day when the hunters came to the forest had affected
all the animals, who clung closely to their two human friends, and did
not venture far from the hut.
Although John and the Hermit had never spoken together of the King
since that terrible day, the boy thought often about him, and about the
young Prince with whom he had wrestled for the life of the bear. And
John was troubled by many things. He thought how great must be the
suffering among the helpless animals when men so cruel were in power.
If animals were treated so, how must the poor and lowly people fare at
the hands of their lords and masters? Were the mighty so cruel to one
another,--to children and women and aged people? All these were weak
and helpless, too. John remembered the Hermit's tales of war and the
wickedness of cities, and his heart grew sick. What a terrible world
this was to live in, if the great and powerful were so bad!
But when John was most unhappy, longing to change it all, he would look
around the little hut where, surrounded by his animal friends, the dear
old Hermit sat under the wooden Cross, reading out of the great book.
Then John grew happy once more. For the Hermit had taught him well
from that holy volume.
"It will all come right some time," he said to himself. "Some day the
Lord will teach men better, and all will be peace and love as it is
here. But oh! If only I were big and strong and powerful, so that I
could help to hasten that happy day!"
One evening, several weeks later, they sat as usual in the midst of
their circle of pets. The Hermit, with the raven on his shoulder and
the cat on his knee, was reading from the book. John, on a bench by
the window, was using the last light of an autumn day to make a basket
for gathering herbs. The gaunt wolf lay at his feet. Beside him
rested the bear, snuffling in his sleep; and stretched out between him
and the Hermit, Brutus snored peacefully. On John's shoulders roosted
their carrier pigeon, and several kittens played about his legs. The
deer lay on a pallet in the corner. It was a very peaceful scene, and
every one seemed to have forgotten the fright of a month before.
Suddenly John said: "Father, tell me about the King."
The old man started, and placing a finger in the book to mark the
place, looked at John with surprise. "Why should we speak of him?" he
asked uneasily. "This is the hour of peace and meditation on pleasant
things."
"I have thought about him so much," said John. "I cannot tell why, but
I am unable to forget him. I want to know more of him and of his son."
The old man shook his head. "I am sorry," he said. "Did you care so
much for his gorgeous clothes and jewels, his horse and band of
followers? Have they turned your head, foolish boy? Did you find
anything to admire in their talk and manner and looks? I am
disappointed, John!"
"Nay, I did not admire anything about them," John hastened to say. "I
saw that the King was cruel. I believe well that he was also wicked.
But he seemed to have friends. How can a bad man have friends? And
why do the people allow him to be their king?"
"Ah, John!" cried the Hermit, "it is not so easy to find a good king!
Perhaps his people do not care; perhaps they know no better. Perhaps
he is so powerful that they have no choice but to obey him."
"Is the King so wicked?" asked John, wondering how the Hermit knew so
much. "What has he done that is bad?"
The old man hesitated; then he turned to John with a gesture that the
boy did not understand.