Under the Pines
When spring came, bringing daffodils in the orchard, and primrose stars
under the alder bushes in the meadow, and tiny green shoots on the
hedges, and singing of larks and cawing of jackdaws and twitter of
linnets, and all the other dear delights of the "return of Proserpine",
Walden also celebrated a birthday. It was a year since the Watsons had
obtained possession of their little property. To them all it had been a
glad, golden, glorious year, full of fresh interests, new awakenings,
and hitherto undreamed-of experiences. They had been living spiritually
on a far higher plane; almost unconsciously the influence of hills and
wide skies and dashing waters had passed into their lives and widened
them. So much of what we are in our after years depends on the standard
of happiness we form when we are quite young. If we learn to take
Nature's hand and read in her book, she can teach us wonderful secrets,
and lift our souls so that we can never again be really narrow, or
vulgar, or petty, or commonplace. It is not the mere fact of living in
the country that gives this inner vision. Too often country dwellers go
about with closed eyes and sealed hearts to the meaning of the beauty
around them; but to those who will listen to Mother Nature's many
voices, there comes a wonderful refinement and purity of taste, quite
irrespective of wealth or class distinctions, the mark of the spirit
that is daily growing, overmastering the claims of the physical body,
and fitting itself for something that as yet we only grasp at but cannot
reach. God must love His children very dearly to send them such
beautiful things as the April sunshine, and the light on the hills, and
the white spray of the whirling waterfall, and the violets in the hazel
coppice. They may spoil His earth for themselves, but the springtime
comes again, and the little heartsease flowers will bloom, not only over
those graves in France, but over deeper graves of fallen hopes and lost
ideals.
Mrs. Watson reviewed the year at Walden as so much gain. To begin with,
her primary object in the removal had been an entire success: Daphne,
formerly pale, thin, and an object for anxiety, was now as radiant as a
pink-tipped daisy, and pronounced by the specialist to be absolutely fit
and sound. She spent most of her time out of doors, gardening and
looking after her colony of fowls, and, though she might not be doing
definite war work, felt that she was helping her country by the
production of food-stuffs. Daphne had suddenly grown very pretty.
Avelyn, who often looked at her critically, decided that point
emphatically. It was a delicate, ethereal, elusive kind of beauty, due
as much to expression as to straight features and smiling grey eyes.
Daphne never came out well in a photograph--that was quite a recognized
fact in the family; to appreciate her, you had to see her when she was
excited, or gardening, with her hair rumpled.
The Walden birthday fell early in April, and the Watsons decided to
celebrate it by having a Saturday picnic. Captain Harper promised to
join them--he came up sometimes from the camp to Lyngates--and they also
asked Pamela and her mother. Rather to their surprise, Mrs. Reynolds
accepted the invitation. The poor lady was still somewhat crushed and
depressed, but she seemed to be trying to bestir herself, and, for her
daughter's sake, to make faint, almost pathetic efforts at friendship.
She was shy and uncommunicative, but she evidently liked Mrs. Watson,
and would cheer up a little in her presence, and venture a few remarks,
and even a watery smile. The picnic was to be in the pine woods, so all
met at the cross-roads by the pond as a common starting-point, and set
forth together, armed with tea baskets.
It was a two-mile walk up hill, along a road that twisted at sharp
angles and gave lovely views of the landscape below. Presently they
reached the beginnings of the wood, and some pines rose like giant
sentinels guarding an enchanted land. As they tramped on, the trees
stood thicker, tall and straight as the masts of a ship, with a carpet
of soft fallen needles underneath. All at once a gleam of water flashed,
and they had reached the bourne of their journey, a little grey lake
set in the midst of the wood, with heather and whinberry growing round
its banks. There was a space of shingle down by the water, and here,
after a grand hunt to collect sticks, they lighted a fire and boiled the
kettle they had brought with them.
It was fun sitting round in a gipsy circle, even if the tea was rather
weak and smoky, and the war cake was conspicuous by its lack of sugar
and currants. Everybody could have eaten a great deal more than the
ration, and the provisions disappeared down to the very last crumb.
Afterwards the young folks started to explore the banks, and had a wild
time scrambling over fallen tree trunks, jumping small streams, and
pushing through thickets. At a particularly large fallen pine Avelyn
struck, and demanded a rest. She and Pamela perched themselves on the
top, and announced their intention of sitting still for at least ten
minutes. The boys, who had been cutting walking-sticks from the hazels
by the lake edge, consented to a halt, and settled down with their
penknives, whittling away busily. Mrs. Watson and Mrs. Reynolds were
washing up the tea-cups at the picnic place, and the sound of their
voices echoed faintly over the water. Daphne and Captain Harper seemed
temporarily lost.
"It's like home to be right amongst the pines!" said Pamela, looking
with far-away eyes at the vista of red-brown trunks and green needles.
"Did you live among them in America?" asked Avelyn.
"Yes, our ranch was out in British Columbia, close to the edge of the
forest. At one time Daddy had lumbering business there, and we spent the
summer at a log shanty right up on the mountain. It was glorious, and I
loved it, but it was very lonely. Daddy used to be out all day, looking
after the timber, and Mother and I would be left by ourselves until
evening. Sometimes we didn't see anyone except our own family for weeks
and weeks."
"Were you frightened?"
"Only once, and then we really had an adventure. I was more scared when
it was over than at the time."
"Do tell us about it!" pleaded Avelyn.
Pamela hesitated, and threw pine cones into the lake. She had never been
very expansive about her life in Canada, and the Watsons had heard few
of her experiences there. They had a general impression that Mr.
Reynolds had not prospered in the New World, and that Pamela shrank from
letting her friends know the roughness of her early upbringing. As a
rule they refrained from questioning her--she was not a girl whom it was
easy to question--but an adventure could not be resisted.
"Do tell us, Pam!" urged the boys, wriggling nearer, and stopping their
whittling.
Pamela threw away all the pine cones that lay in her lap, seemed to
think a moment or two, then finally decided.
"All right, I'll tell you if you like! Well, as I've just said, we were
living in a log-house in a little clearing in the forest. We used to
hear the coyotes howling about at night, but we didn't mind those in the
least. They're cowardly beasts, and we'd never seen anything else to
frighten us. One day Father had a much longer round to go than usual,
and he said he should not be back at night, but would sleep with some
friends at a ranch a good many miles off. Mother and I did not mind
being left. Daddy had been obliged to stop away like that before, so we
were accustomed to it. I went out in the afternoon, across the clearing,
and through part of the forest to some open pastures where the berries
grew. I stayed there, picking some and eating them, and putting some in
my basket, for just ages. It was nice there: I found flowers as well as
berries; and I'd brought out a book with me, so I sat down and read and
enjoyed myself. Suddenly I noticed that the sun was beginning to set,
and I jumped up and felt guilty. I knew that Mother would have supper
ready, and that she'd be waiting for me. I ran home all the way. It was
getting quite dusk in the forest as I went through. When I came near the
house, I could see that the shutters were up, covering the window. That
didn't surprise me, because Mother generally closed them as soon as she
lighted the lamp. But she always left the door standing open for me, and
to-night the door was shut too. I was rushing forward to open it, when I
heard Mother's voice calling me.
"'Pamela, stop! Don't come a step nearer, child!'
"I looked round to see where Mother was, and she was in the funniest
place. Our log-cabin had a loft above it, which was reached by a ladder
from the living-room. This loft had a tiny window in the roof, and, lo
and behold, there was Mother peeping out of the window and waving me
back! I thought it so funny that I began to laugh, but Mother wasn't
laughing at all. She called out again:
"'Keep back!'
"Her voice sounded so queer that it suddenly scared me. My legs began to
shake in the silliest way.
"'What's the matter?' I shouted.
"Mother's voice quavered a little:
"'Don't be too frightened, darling! There's a puma shut up in the
house!'
"I was fearfully frightened, all the same. I should have run away if
Mother had not been at the window. I stared at the house, picturing that
horrible thing moving about inside. Mother went on explaining:
"'I'd lighted the lamp and closed the shutters, and I'd left the door
open for you. Then, suddenly, I saw the creature creep into the room. My
first idea was that it would rush out and catch you just as you were
coming home, so I slammed the door, and dashed up the ladder into the
loft, and then kicked the ladder away. He's downstairs quite safe, and
I'm up here and he can't get at me. I've put down the trap-door.'
"'Can't you crawl through the window, Mummie?' I gasped.
"'No, it's too small. I've tried. I'm caged up here, just as much as the
puma is caged down below, and I can hear him raging about. If he upsets
the lamp, the whole place will be on fire.'
"I gave a great cry at that, because it seemed almost a certain thing
that the puma would upset the lamp, and then I knew the log-cabin would
be in a blaze. What could I do? Daddy would not be returning home that
night, and our nearest neighbours were miles away. Yet I must get help,
and at once. There was nothing else for it; every minute was of
consequence.
"'I'll go to the Petersons' ranch, Mummie!' I shouted, and I started off
running without waiting for her to reply.
"I was only eleven, and the forest was getting dark. I had never been
out alone in it at that time of evening. I wasn't brave at all. My legs
shook under me as I ran, and I imagined a puma behind every bush. Then I
was rather uncertain about the trail. In that dim light it would be very
easy to lose my way and never reach the ranch at all. I decided to keep
near the stream, which would guide me. I went stumbling on for what
seemed a long time, and everything was getting darker, when suddenly, on
the other side of the stream, I saw the light of a camp fire. I knew
some lumbermen must be spending the night in the woods there, and that
they might help me. I hallooed and cooeed as loudly as I could, but the
wind was in the wrong direction and carried my voice away, and the
stream was noisy, so I couldn't make them hear me.
"I didn't know what to do. Then, a little farther down, I saw that a
tree had fallen across the stream. I ran along and looked at it. It was
a horrible bridge--I'm a coward at crossing water--but I had to crawl
over it somehow. For a year afterwards I used to dream that I was doing
it again, and would wake up gasping. I've hated running water ever
since. Well, I managed to get across, though I never quite knew how I
did it, and then I ran up to the camp fire, shaking so that I could
hardly tell what I wanted.
"Three men were sitting there, cooking their supper, and one of them
called out: 'Hallo! What's up with you, young 'un?'
"When I said there was a puma inside our house they all whistled. Then
the one who had spoken reached for his gun, and said: 'We'll come with
you, lassie!'
"The others didn't say anything, but they got up and found their guns
too. One of them took me on his back and carried me across the bridge
when he saw how I funked it. He went over without minding it in the
least. I don't know how he could!
"It was fearfully dark going home through the wood, and I could only
just manage to find the trail. We got to our shanty at last, and I
shouted, and Mother looked out of the window and said: 'Thank God you're
back safe!'
"The three men talked over the best way of killing the puma. One of them
prised open the shutters and the other two stood ready with their guns.
The creature had been quiet (so Mother told us afterwards) for a long
while, but when the shutters fell back it went wild, and came tearing
across the room to the window, knocking over the table and upsetting the
lamp. It was shot directly, and fell dead inside the room. But the lamp
had broken and set up a blaze. The men rushed to our shed for spades and
threw earth on the burning paraffin, managing to put the fire out before
any real damage had been done. Then they fixed the ladder again, and
Mother came down from the loft.
"When Daddy came home next day she said she daren't be left alone in the
woods again, so he took us to the settlement, and we lived there the
rest of the summer."
"Did you keep the puma's skin?" asked Anthony, who had followed the
story with breathless interest.
"No, I'd have liked to, but the lumbermen had dragged the thing outside,
and the coyotes got hold of it in the night, so there wasn't much skin
left by morning."
"I think you were immensely plucky!" exclaimed Avelyn warmly.
"Plucky! What else could I have done? I tell you, I felt the biggest
coward out!"