AN OGRE IN THE WOOD.
Full of his idea, Maurice slept very little more that night. He tossed
from side to side on the pine needles. But though he felt often drowsy,
he was afraid to yield to the sensation; and early, very early in the
morning, before the sun had risen, he got up. Going to the door of the
hut, he stood there for a moment or so looking down into the forest.
Just around the little hut there was a clearing of trees; but the
forest itself looked dark. The trees cast long shadows, and Maurice
felt rather nervous at the idea of venturing into their gloom.
Suddenly, however, he heard a bird sing clear and sweet up into the
sky, and the next moment two squirrels darted past his feet.
These two events decided him: the day was coming on apace, and soon
Cecile and Joe would wake and begin to prepare for their journey.
Without waiting to look around, he stepped into the dark shadows of the
trees; and, in a moment, his little figure was lost in the gloom. To
enable him to creep very quietly away--so quietly that even Toby should
not awake--he had decided not to put on his shoes and stockings, and he
now ran along the grass with his bare feet. He liked the sensation. The
grass felt both cool and soft, and he began to wonder why he had ever
troubled himself with such clumsy, tiresome things as shoes and
stockings.
The sun had now risen, and the forest was no longer dark; and Maurice,
looking back, saw that he had quite lost sight of the hut. He also, at
the same moment, discovered, growing in great clusters, almost at his
feet, dog violets, some as large as heart's-ease.
He gave a little cry of delight. He was very fond of flowers, and he
decided to pick a great bunch to bring back to Cecile; in case she was
a little vexed with him, she would be sure to be pacified by this
offering.
He therefore sat down on the grass, and picked away at the violets
until he had filled both his hands.
Then hearing, or fancying he heard, a little rustling in the grass, and
thinking it might be Joe coming in search of him, he set off running
again.
This time he was not so fortunate. A great thorn found its way into the
little naked foot; the poor child gave a cry of pain, then sat plump
down; he found that he could not walk another step. The day had now
fully come, and the forest was alive with sights and sounds. Maurice
was too young, too much of a baby to feel at all frightened. The idea
of getting lost never even occurred to him. He said to himself that, as
he could not possibly walk on his lame and swollen foot, he would wait
quietly where he had planted himself, until Cecile or Joe or Toby found
him out.
This quiet waiting resulted, as might have been expected, in the little
fellow making up for the night's wakefulness, and soon he was sound
asleep, his pretty head resting on his violets.
For several hours tired little Maurice slept. When at last he opened
his eyes, a man was sitting by his side.
He looked at him for a moment sleepily and peacefully out of his velvet
brown eyes; then sitting up, he exclaimed in a tone of joyful
recognition:
"Anton!"
Anton--for it was indeed he--looked into the innocent face with his own
guilty one, then nodded in the affirmative.
Maurice, having no idea of fearing Anton, knowing nothing about the
purse of gold, and being on the whole rather prepossessed in his favor
than otherwise, exclaimed:
"How did you come, Anton? did you find Cecile and Joe, and did they
send you for me? and have I slept a long, long time, Anton? It is quite
too late to begin a journey to-day?"
"'Tis about noon, lad," replied Anton; "quite the hottest time of the
day; and I have not seen no Joe, nor no Cecile, though I wants to see
'em; I ha' been a-looking fur 'em ever since they turned tail in that
shabby way in Paris. I has a little debt to settle wid 'em two, and I'd
like to see 'em again."
"Oh! do you owe them money, and will you pay it? I am sure they'll be
glad for that, for sometimes I hear Cecile say that she is afraid their
money won't hold out, the journey is so very long. I am glad you owe
'em money, Anton; and as it is past noon, and they won't start to-day,
we may as well go back to the hut at once. Oh! won't they be surprised
ta see you, Anton?"
Anton remained silent for a moment, his head buried in his hands. He
was evidently thinking hard, and once he was heard to mutter, "a lucky
chance; a rare and lucky chance." Then he raised his head again and
looked at Maurice.
"The others are in a hut, a hut in the forest, eh?"
"Oh, yes! quite a nice, snug little hut, and not so very far from here.
We sleep on pine needles in the hut, and they are so soft and snug;
and, Anton, I don't want to leave it. I like the forest, and I hate
long, long walks; I'd rather stay in the hut."
"How far away did you say it wor, lad?"
"Oh! not so very far away. I ran out quite early this morning, and I
came down hill; and at last when I lost breath I stopped and gathered
all these violets. Oh, they are withered--my poor violets! And then I
ran a little bit and got this thorn into my foot, and after that I
could walk no more. The hut can't be a great way off. Will you carry me
back to it, Anton?"
Anton laughed.
"'Will I carry him?' did he say?" he exclaimed in a tone of some
derision. "Well, wot next? I ain't strong enough to carry sech a big
chap as you, my lad. No, no; but I'll tell you wot I'll do: I'll take
you over to a comrade o' mine as is waiting for me jest outside the
forest, quite close by. He's a bit of a doctor, and he'll take the
thorn out of your foot; and while he's doing it, I'll run down to the
hut and bring that big Joe o' yourn back. He'll carry you fine--he
ain't a weakly chap like me."
"Poor Anton!" said little Maurice, "I forgot that you were weak. Yes,
that's a very kind plan." And he stretched out his arms for Anton to
carry him just the little distance to his comrade at the other side of
the forest.