Still at the Foot of the Old Oak Tree.
The roar of the bison bull was hardly out of his ears, when the boy
heard another slight rustling in the leaves and grass near-by, and
peeping out from behind his cap, he saw that the moccasins had again
shifted their position. Looking in the direction toward which their toes
were turned, he saw an object more to be dreaded, by far, than a bison
bull.
A wild-cat it was, already too near at hand, creeping up in that soft,
sly way peculiar to animals of the cat family whenever they have a
victim in view. A wild-cat--fat; sleek sides, all ribbed with stripes of
black and white; white teeth, very long and sharp; black claws, longer
and sharper still; ringed tail, very long and very lithe, waving softly
all the time from side to side, with a sort of quivering eagerness in
its motion, as if the owner were trying his best to hold it still, and
for the life of him could not do so.
By this time, the handsome savage had slipped himself within easy
springing distance of his intended quarry. Here he paused, and fixing
his wild, sly eyes on those of the boy, began purring in a soft way, and
licking his red chops with his long, red tongue in a soft way--that
uncontrollable tail still waving from side to side in the same soft
way--all in the softest, slyest way that you could well imagine, as if
he were saying within himself: "But won't a wild-cat pap and a wild-cat
mam and their wild-cat kittens feast and be merry to-night?"
All this took the boy but three winks of the eye to observe; though, in
the time, he had not winked once, so fascinated was he by the gaze of
those wild, sly eyes, which shone like balls of green fire, rather than
eyes. Now was Wild Tom of the Woods making his squat for the long
spring, and the poor little runaway screaming again to pap for help. But
just then, in the very nick of time, with a swiftness that left a red
streak in the air, the red moccasins darted directly at the wild-cat's
face, and kicking the green fire out of his eyes, spoiled their charming
expression in a twinkle. With a scream of amazement, fright and pain,
which struck on the ear like the shriek of a terrified woman, the nimble
creature spun lithely 'round, and, like the bull, reckless of all save
the unseen foe behind him, made a blind leap sheer over the brink of the
precipice, and in a moment sank out of sight.
This happily accomplished, the moccasins, precisely as they had done
before, returned to their post; and the boy, precisely as he had done
before, hid his face in his coonskin cap. Nor even yet one word of
thanks for timely rescue from untimely end. Now, had you been in our
hero's place, you would have up and made friends with the moccasins,
there on the spot, for so kindly stepping in betwixt you and
peril--shaken hands with them as whole-souled fellows, with whom it was
to a bare-footed boy's behoof to stand on a good footing. But Sprigg was
the worst spoiled boy in the world; which, unless I am mightily
mistaken, you are not; and it still rang in his foggy young noddle that
it was all the red moccasins' fault that he had been brought to straits
so sad and desperate. Therefore, he owed them no thanks whatever for
helping him out, let them kick as they might. Such being the case,
Sprigg would not have made friends with the moccasins, had it been to
save their soles.
So, there sat the boy, with his face in his coonskin cap; and there
stood the thing, with its feet in the moccasins; and there flung the sun
his last red beams, then went his way, unrecking who wept to see him go.
Now, shade by shade, with foot as stealthy and soft as the furred paw of
the gray cat, came the gray twilight, creeping, creeping on. The hour,
when the gray owl, with a whoop, from his hole in the tree; and the gray
wolf, with a howl, from his cleft in the rock, come forth in quest of
their prey. And woe to the fawn! And woe to the birdling! strayed from
home for the first time, should the shadows of night, that tempt the
famished foe abroad, find him still far from the old one's side; for
chased shall he be, and caught up by the claws, or dragged down by the
fangs of the dread destroyer!
And Sprigg--poor child! How weak and helpless to be in a spot so lonely
and dreary and perilous, and so far away from the dear old hearts of
home! Hearts, by this time, so overburdened with grief and distressing
apprehensions--all for him! How weary, too, and faint he felt! And how
he longed to lay him down to sleep and be at rest! But this, he dared
not, lest he should awake but to find long, sharp horns at his breast,
or long, sharp teeth at his throat. Or, if not this, he might, while yet
asleep, be borne away to some spot, still more distant and lonely, by
the strange being, who stood just there in the moccasins, the gaze of
whose unseen eyes he now felt in his inmost heart.
At last, in spite of all his efforts to keep awake, the weary child was
dropping off to sleep, when his ear, as yet but half closed, was caught
by a dog-trot sort of a noise in the leaves quite near at hand. Rousing
with a start and looking out, the boy saw there a wolf--gray, grim and
gaunt, with eyes that glared upon him through the dusky shades, like
balls of red fire, rather than eyes. Sprigg was on the point of
screaming again to pap for help, when he bethought him of the moccasins,
and glancing down and perceiving that they had turned their toes toward
the monster, he choked himself into silence. Though he still feared
them, he had, by this time, learned to trust the red moccasins, and now
felt assured that they would defend him against the wolf as they had
done against the bull and the cat. Nor was he mistaken. Just as Wild
Tray of the Woods would have made his spring and sprang on the boy, the
moccasins made their spring and sprang on the wolf, driving directly at
his ugly eyes, with a kick into each, which brought the red fire
flashing out into the darkness. Back, with a terrified howl, cowered the
monster, and spinning swiftly 'round, vanished like the bison and the
wild-cat, with a blind leap over the precipice. But this time, when the
moccasins came back, a voice came with them; a new voice, whose tones,
gentle and kind, reminded the poor boy of his mother's, and thus the new
voice spoke:
"Now our Sprigg must feel assured he may trust us. Then sleep, poor boy!
You are weary, faint and sick at heart, and have but too much need of
rest! A friend is here, who will watch over you and keep you safe from
harm. Then, sleep, poor child, sleep!" And with these words the forlorn
little castaway felt a tiny hand laid upon his head, and with a touch so
gentle that a gush of soft, warm, grateful tears came welling up from
his overburdened heart; and straightway a sense of rest and slumber
stole over his spirit, and he sank into a deep sleep. Just then the moon
wheeled up from behind the forest-bound East, and shot her first silver
arrows, long-and level, against the shaggy breast of the giant hill.
Round-faced, she was, and as bright as moon could well be, not to make
day of night; for, be it borne in mind, that it was still the first of
June, though gone the joyous sun, who had been blazing the thing to the
world the livelong day.
The boy had slept but an hour or so, when he was aroused by a voice,
whose tones seemed those of his father's, which said:
"Up, Sprigg! Up! They come!" as if he who spoke were in haste. With a
wild start the boy sprang to his feet, and the first thing he knew he
was standing bolt upright, looking straight down the vista, which ran
along the crest of the ridge, as if his head had been turned by him that
had spoken on purpose that way, that he might see what there he saw. And
had Sprigg seen the bison, the wild-cat, the wolf, all there in a row,
the sight could hardly have daunted him more than did that of the object
which now met his eyes. A sight, it was, which brought to his memory all
that his mother had told him concerning that terrible thing of the
wilderness--the Indian mystery--Jibbenainesy, called by the white men,
Nick of the Woods.
Yes, fancy it out as you please--it was a bear, with black hair, so
shaggy and long that his legs could scarcely be seen, and his tail not
at all.
Sprigg's first thought, after the hundred thoughts which the object
before him had awakened, was to reassure himself that the moccasins
still stood guard. He looked! Dire to relate, the red moccasins had
deserted their post--abandoned their trust! Nothing--no one left him to
look to now for help! Down he crouched again at the foot of the old oak
tree, hiding himself in its deepest shadow, in the forlorn hope that the
monster might pass by without discovering his presence. On came the huge
bulk of shaggy blackness--now in the shadow of a tree, now in the belt
of moonlight, slowly, steadily, trudged he along--his head bent down
with the air of one who, while he walked, is absorbed in profound
thought. When his deliberate pace had brought the bear to the third or
fourth belt of light, Sprigg spied an object, which, for the moment, in
spite of the terror he felt, caused his young heart to burn with
indignation, reminding him, as it did, how he had been made a fool of,
by something, or somebody, he had not fairly decided yet what or who.
But the moment after, remembering the voice, which, so like his
mother's, had lulled him to sleep with words of rest and peace--this
feeling gave place to one of joy and trusting reassurance.
Side by side with the bear, and keeping exact step with his sloomy pace,
Sprigg saw his cast-off moccasins, coming quietly on, as if with the
sole intent of guiding the monster directly up to the tree, in whose
dark shadow he had trusted to find a hiding place. Thus leading, thus
led, composedly on they came together, step for step--now the three
right feet, now the three left feet--each as pat to the other's movement
as were they walking arm in arm. The next broad patch of moonlight
gained, brought them square abreast with the boy; and here, within easy
speaking distance, they came to a dead halt--the red moccasins and the
bear.