“All right. Then let’s try to brighten the place up a little. We don’t
have to sit here and look at these black stone walls just because
we’re playing Injun. Come and help me; I love to select furnishings
for a room.”
* * * * *
From the hillside near the cave we gathered more branches and brush.
Pine, spruce, birch and willow, budding into the full growth of
Summer, came by the armfuls into the cavern.
“You never would have thought that this place needed decorating, would
you?” said Betty, as she set to work. “Certainly not. This rough roof
offers a shelter; these harsh walls hide us from our enemies. So you,
being a mere man, think it’s all right. Ha! I’d hate to be a mere
man.”
She was flying about the cave, fastening branches in the clefts of the
rock, stepping back to view the results, altering her arrangements,
apparently so lost in her work as to have forgotten our true
situation.
“Now hand me that birch branch—the white contrasts beautifully with
the green pine; now another piece of pine, now some more birch. There.
That’s what you call repetition of color, isn’t it? You don’t know?
Gracious. How can men be so ignorant of the really important things of
life!”
On the rock forming the roof of the cave we found a patch of moss,
velvet soft to the touch, and a gentle brown and gold in color. With a
stick I loosened great pieces from the rock and bore it carefully
within where Betty directed the carpeting of the cave. When a large
piece reached its destination intact Betty beamed; when the moss broke
between my outstretched hands she pouted.
“I think so long as Nature goes to the trouble of creating a carpet
for us it might as well do a good job and make it strong enough to
stand transportation.”
But when the cave was carpeted with its soft, yielding cushion of moss
she clapped her hands in delight.
“Look at it!” she cried, embracing the cave with a gesture. “Why, it’s
cozy; people could almost live here.”
Our coming and going had trodden down much of the brush which had so
thoroughly hidden the cave, and with some of the branches left over
from Betty’s decorations I proceeded to weave a screen over the
opening. When I had completed it I crawled out and inspected my work
from a distance. The cave now was hidden more thoroughly than ever.
Brack must look long and carefully to find us.
When I slipped back into our shelter I surprised Betty sitting on the
canoe with her head bowed upon her hands in an attitude of dejection.
She looked up, smiling bravely, but her cheerfulness was only
surface-deep.
I looked away without a word, as did she, but in that moment we had
confessed to one another that our display of high spirits had merely
been acting, each wishing to help bolster up the courage of the other.
We sat so for some time. Betty finally broke the silence.
“Well,” she said quietly, “there’s no use pretending any more, is
there?”