THE NIGHT IN THE FOREST
It was some time before Eddring could trust himself to appear before
the companions whom he had left at the little bivouac. Night had
practically fallen when he finally emerged into the little glade, now
well-lighted by the fire. He paused at the edge of the cover and
looked at the picture before him. Sick at heart and full of horror as
he was from that which he had seen, none the less he felt a swift
burst of savagery come upon his own soul. What was the world to him,
its strivings, its disappointments, its paltry successes? Almost he
wished, for one fierce instant, that he might exchange the world
beyond for this world near at hand. A little fire, a little shelter,
and the presence of the woman whom he loved--what more could the
world give? He gazed hungrily at the figure of the tall young woman,
defined well in the bright firelight. Yearning, he coveted the
endurance of the picture, saying again and again to himself, "Would
this might last for ever, even as it is!"
Madame Delchasse meantime was adding support to her well-founded
reputation as artist in matters culinary. When presently Eddring
joined them at the fire, he was invited to a repast in which madame
had done wonders. It seemed to him that even Miss Lady began to
revive under the summons of these unusual surroundings. Once, he
noted, she actually laughed.
As they sat on the rude floor of cane-stalks, engaged with their
evening meal, there came suddenly from across the forest the sound of
a long, hoarse wail, ending in a tremulous crescendo; the cry of the
panther, rarely heard in that or any other region. In terror the
women sprang to each other, and Eddring felt Miss Lady's hand close
tight upon his arm in her unconscious recognition of the need of a
protector.
"What--what was it?" she cried.
"Nothing," said Eddring; "nothing but a cat."
"A cat?" cried madame. "Never did I hear the cat with voice so big
like that."
"Wasn't it a panther?" asked Miss Lady. "Will it get us?"
"Yes, Madame Delchasse," said Eddring, "it's a cat about eight feet
long--a panther, as Miss Lady says. But it's a mile away, and it
doesn't want to get any wetter than it is; and it wouldn't hurt us
anyhow. I assure you, you need have not the slightest fear. Water and
fire are not exactly in the panther's line, so you can rest assured
that he will not trouble you. He wouldn't even have screamed that way
if his disposition hadn't been spoiled by all this water."
Inwardly he noted the fact that Miss Lady did not again remove to a
greater distance from him. His heart leaped at her near presence, and
again there came the fierce demand of his soul, the wish that this
night might last for ever.
Finally, building anew the fire, and showing the two how they might
best use their blankets to make themselves comfortable, Eddring
withdrew for his vigil at the tree-trunk. Now and again he dozed,
wearied by the strain and the physical exertion lately undergone.
Madame Delchasse slept heavily.
Upon her couch Miss Lady lay, and watched the flickering of the fire
and the heavy masses of the shadows. She could not sleep. There came
upon her the feeling of unreality in her surroundings which is
experienced by nearly all civilized human beings when thrown into the
uncivilized surroundings of nature. It all seemed to her like some
rapid and fevered dream. She wondered what had become of Henry
Decherd, what had been the cause of his sudden departure from the
steamer. She resolved to summon courage on the morrow and to accost
this uninvited new-comer upon the scenes of her life. She pondered
again upon this strange man; asked herself why he had sought her out,
why he had left her so soon and had since then been so frigidly
aloof, even though he still carried her with him forward, virtually a
prisoner. By all rights a thief, a dishonest man, ought not to be a
gentleman; yet strive as she might, she could recall no single
instance where the conduct of this man had been anything but that of
a gentleman, delicate, kindly, brave, unselfish. Miss Lady could not
understand. The shadows hung too black over all--the shadows of the
past, of the future. About her there were vague, mysterious sounds,
rustlings, coughings, barkings, sometimes sullen splashes in the
water not far away. Terrors on all sides oppressed Miss Lady's soul.
She had no hope; she could not understand. Her thoughts were in part
upon that silent figure sitting in the darkness beside the tree. And
then there came again the voice of the great panther, wailing across
the woods. Miss Lady could endure it no longer. She sprang up.
"Sir!" she cried, "Mr. Eddring, come!" And so he came and comforted
her once more, his voice grave and quiet, fearless, strong.
"I will build up the fire," said he, "and then I will sit by another
tree, closer to the camp and just back of your house. I shall be
between you and the water, and you need not be afraid."
And then there came about a wonderful thing, which not even Miss Lady
herself could understand. She ceased to fear! She found herself
wondering at the meaning of the word "depend." In spite of herself,
in spite of all the evidence in her hands to the contrary, she felt
herself growing vaguely sure that she could depend upon this man.
Gradually the night lost its terrors. The whispers of the leaves grew
kindly and not ominous. The fire seemed to her a reviving flame of
hope. Presently she slept.
In the night the wild life of the forest went on. The barkings and
rustlings and splashings still were heard, and the great cat called
again. But all these savage things went by, passing apart, avoiding
this spot where the White Man, most savage and most potent of all
animals, had made his lair and now guarded his own.
In the night the voice of the wilderness spoke to John Eddring: "Old,
old are we!" the trees seemed to whisper: "Only the strong! Only the
strong!" This seemed the whisper of the wind in its monotone. He sat
upright, rigid, wide-awake, his eyes looking straight before him in
his vigil, his heart throbbing boldly, strangely. All the fierceness,
all the desire, all the sternness of the wilderness in its aeons ran
in his blood. His heart throbbed steadily. Peace came to his soul now
as never before; since now he knew that he was of the strong, that he
was ready for life and what combat it might bring.