"You come, then, or I shall shut them," said Nycteris, "and you sha'n't
see them any more till you are good. Come. If you can't see the wild
beasts, I can."
"You can! and you ask me to come!" cried Photogen.
"Yes," answered Nycteris. "And more than that, I see them long before
they can see me, so that I am able to take care of you."
"But how?" persisted Photogen. "You can't shoot with bow and arrow, or
stab with a hunting knife."
"No, but I can keep out of the way of them all. Why, just when I found
you, I was having a game with two or three of them at once. I see, and
scent them too, long before they are near me--long before they can see
or scent me."
"You don't see or scent any now, do you?" said Photogen, uneasily,
rising on his elbow.
"No--none at present. I will look," replied Nycteris, and sprang to her
feet.
"Oh! oh! do not leave me--not for a moment," cried Photogen, straining
his eyes to keep her face in sight through the darkness.
"Be quiet, or they will hear you," she returned. "The wind is from the
south, and they can not scent us. I have found out all about that. Ever
since the dear dark came I have been amusing myself with them, getting
every now and then just into the edge of the wind, and letting one have
a sniff of me."
"Oh, horrible!" cried Photogen. "I hope you will not insist on doing so
any more. What was the consequence?"
"Always, the very instant, he turned with flashing eyes, and bounded
toward me--only he could not see me, you must remember. But my eyes
being so much better than his, I could see him perfectly well, and
would run away round him until I scented him, and then I knew he could
not find me anyhow. If the wind were to turn, and run the other way now,
there might be a whole army of them down upon us, leaving no room to
keep out of their way. You had better come."
She took him by the hand. He yielded and rose, and she led him away. But
his steps were feeble, and as the night went on, he seemed more and more
ready to sink.
"Oh dear! I am so tired! and so frightened!" he would say.
"Lean on me," Nycteris would return, putting her arm round him, or
patting his cheek. "Take a few steps more. Every step away from the
castle is clear gain. Lean harder on me. I am quite strong and well
now."
So they went on. The piercing night-eyes of Nycteris descried not a few
pairs of green ones gleaming like holes in the darkness, and many a
round she made to keep far out of their way; but she never said to
Photogen she saw them. Carefully she kept him off the uneven places, and
on the softest and smoothest of the grass, talking to him gently all the
way as they went--of the lovely flowers and the stars--how comfortable
the flowers looked, down in their green beds, and how happy the stars,
up in their blue beds!
When the morning began to come he began to grow better, but was
dreadfully tired with walking instead of sleeping, especially after
being so long ill. Nycteris too, what with supporting him, what with
growing fear of the light which was beginning to ooze out of the east,
was very tired. At length, both equally exhausted, neither was able to
help the other. As if by consent they stopped. Embracing each the other,
they stood in the midst of the wide grassy land, neither of them able to
move a step, each supported only by the leaning weakness of the other,
each ready to fall if the other should move. But while the one grew
weaker still, the other had begun to grow stronger. When the tide of the
night began to ebb, the tide of the day began to flow; and now the sun
was rushing to the horizon, borne upon its foaming billows. And even as
he came, Photogen revived. At last the sun shot up into the air, like a
bird from the hand of the Father of Lights. Nycteris gave a cry of pain,
and hid her face in her hands.
"Oh me!" she sighed; "I am _so_ frightened! The terrible light stings
so!"
But the same instant, through her blindness, she heard Photogen give a
low exultant laugh, and the next felt herself caught up: she who all
night long had tended and protected him like a child, was now in his
arms, borne along like a baby, with her head lying on his shoulder. But
she was the greater, for, suffering more, she feared nothing.