Met--and Only His Shadow to Be Seen.
Sprigg ran for more than a mile with all his might, and was astonished
to find he was not in the least degree weary or short of breath. Then he
thought it must be the moccasins making his feet so light, and little
dreamed he how swift; and he was all the more certain that they would
carry him straight to grandpap's house, as they, or the voice, or his
own heart--it were hard to say which--had promised. With this discovery,
he need have no fear of now being overtaken and carried back home before
he had made his way to the fort; and, once there, fairly nestled under
grandmam's wing. He well knew from pet-boy experience he could spin out
his visit until it should please him to remount Shank's mare and trot
back home of his own free will. His mind thus eased from the
apprehension of pursuit, there was nothing to hinder him now, even while
moving so swiftly along, from feasting his eyes on his beautiful
moccasins--so red, so light, so fleet--so brave with their glittering
beads.
The light-footed fawns were skipping, like lambs, in the sunlit glades
of the forest. The glad-voiced birdlings were singing, for joy of the
summer, in every tree. The bright-eyed flowerets were smiling in every
sunny spot by the wayside, and doing their utmost to make the wilderness
lovely. But the flowerets might smile, and the birdlings sing, and the
fawns, like lambkins, skip--they skipped and sang and smiled in vain for
Sprigg! His eyes were on his moccasins, and his heart was in his eyes.
The boy was moving along in this half-dreamy state of self-admiration,
when his ear was caught by a noise, as of feet, which stirred the leaves
and came on with a quick, quick tramp. He started and looked up. Started
again, then stood stock still. What think you Sprigg saw there, in the
wild and lonesome woods? A gaunt-ribbed wolf, with teeth so long and
sharp? No, not a wolf. A shaggy-coated bear, with claws so long and
sharp? No, not a bear, nor panther, nor yet a wild-cat! Then it must
have been an Indian, as Elster had pictured, all hideously painted, with
a tomahawk in his right hand, a scalping knife in his left, and, by this
time, yelling like a demon! No, nor an Indian either. Only pap and
Pow-wow; pap, rifle on shoulder, not ten paces distant, and Pow-wow so
near that Sprigg could easily have laid his hand on his dear old
play-fellow's shaggy head.
The boy's first impulse was to slink aside and hide himself in a thick
clump of bushes which grew by the wayside; but it was too late, his
father's eyes were already fixed, or seemed to be fixed, directly upon
him. So he remained perfectly motionless where he was, standing, too, in
the very midst of a bright spot of sunlight--the only one which, just
there, broke the sombre shade of the forest. Pow-wow trotted on by, nor
wagged his tail in greeting to his young master, nor even so much as
raised his nose from the ground to sniff at him. His father passed on
by; passed within arm's length of his own flesh and blood, nor yet
extended his hand to touch him, nor even so much as moved his lips to
speak to him. What might this mean?
"He-he-he!"
And a low, wild laugh went out on the air. All three jumped--the boy,
the man, the dog--and, with startled eyes, all glanced behind them. The
dog slunk cowering back to the side of his master, who, with a glance of
his keen hunter's eye, which comprehended every object around them,
said, addressing his dumb companion:
"What! frightened, my brave old fellow? Frightened for the first time in
your life! What could it have been? for not a thing do I see." Yet his
eyes, as also those of the dog, were turned directly toward the spot
where, as though he were a bush and his feet roots, the boy still stood,
the sunlight shining full upon him. Sprigg felt a strange thrill come
creeping through his veins, to find that, though he was looked at, it
was with a look as if he were not perceived. A discovery, which caused
his heart to quake with a terror he could not have felt, had his father
actually seen him and called to him in a loud, stern voice, to know what
he did there, and to command him to go back home.
"No, Pow-wow," again said the hunter to his cowering dog, and still
glancing keenly about him, "not a thing do I see that could either laugh
or cry; and yet, just there on the ground, in that spot of sunlight, I
do see something which looks for all the world like a boy's shadow." And
lifting his eyes to the branches of the trees above him, Jervis scanned
them narrowly to discover the particular bough to which the freak might
be ascribed. Then lowering his eyes against to the shadow on the ground,
with a look of no small wonderment, he added:
"It seems, Pow-wow, that our ears and eyes have a plot among them to
play us a trick. But, come! Let's push on home. The day grows late, and
we still have ten long miles to trudge; and Sprigg, you know, must have
a good, broad edge of daylight for looking at and playing with the young
black fox we found in our trap this morning. How our boy will kick up
his heels when he comes out to meet us, finding we have brought him so
rare a pet! But won't he, though? So up with your tail, my brave old
fellow! Up with your tail and lead on!"
But Pow-wow did not up with his tail; nor, till now, when they were
turning to go, had he ceased to glare at the spot where his young master
was standing, and whence had come that low, wild laugh. Sprigg watched
them till he could see them no longer. Then he laughed, as he had done
at home, to pluck up the spirit he had lost; laughed in such a way as to
make him imagine that, after all, it could only have been himself, who
but now had laughed. But that his father and Pow-wow could have passed
right by him without seeing him, or discovering his presence in any way,
was a circumstance certainly far from pleasant to think of; even while
the young runaway felt quite assured that had he been found there, so
far from home, he should, for that one time, at least, have been
severely punished. But there it was coming again! That sound, so like a
voice shaping in words the thoughts of his own heart.
"Pluck up, Sprigg! Pluck up! Ten long miles from home, and the old hen
and her chickens still with their bills in the dough, which Elster threw
out to them as we were climbing the fence. And now, Sprigg, don't you
see that with these red moccasins on your feet you are as swift as a
young wild goose, if not swifter? Better still, you are no more to be
seen in them, even when met by your own father, face to face--no more to
be seen than the thin air you stand in! Then, what can catch you? What
can hurt you? Sprigg, this is fine! It is splendid! Only see how high
the sun is, and we already here at the old hunting camp, exactly half
way between your house and grandpap's. You heard pap say to Pow-wow
that you must have a good, broad edge of daylight for the young black
fox, but you shall have that for better things than black foxes. You
shall, in the first place, go by young Ben Logan's house, only a mile or
so out of your way, and letting him have just one broad stare at your
brave moccasins--set him to dying of envy at once. This done, you will
have time enough, and to spare, for going by pretty little Bertha
Bryant's house; although, to do this, you will be obliged to pass by
grandpap's first. But I would do it; and I would walk directly through
the yard, and allowing Bertha just one flitting glimpse of your
beautiful moccasins, set her, there on the spot, to losing her senses
for very admiration and love of them. Then, pluck up your heart, my boy!
Pluck up heart! Oh, what a brave boy is Sprigg! Who said our Sprigg was
not a brave boy? He-he-he!"
Poor Sprigg! Why did you not cast off the terrible moccasins then and
there? And, all in your naked feet, unmindful of tearing stones and
piercing thorns, speed you after your father, and confessing all,
implore him to beat you, ere he had forgiven you? He might have done so;
rebuked you sternly, punished you sorely, but far easier and better for
you had been all that than the fearful delight which was now charming
you out of your better nature. For, had he done so, would he not have
taken you, with your feet all torn and bleeding as they were, your body
all bruised with the stripes of his chastising rod--taken you up in his
strong, loving arms and borne you home? Home, the one place under the
pitiful heavens where the young and the aged, the weak and the helpless,
the untried and the overtried, should look for happiness, peace and
safety!