The Red Moccasins Part 4

"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 s.h.i.+ning 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 pa.s.sed right by him without seeing him, or discovering his presence in any way, was a circ.u.mstance certainly far from pleasant to think of; even while the young runaway felt quite a.s.sured 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 pa.s.s 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!

CHAPTER VIII.

Awakes to Find that He Is Lost.

Again the poor, vain boy was speeding him on his lone and perilous way.

His flight was as swift as the wind, yet so smooth and lightsome that he could gaze upon his moccasins and delight his eyes with their glitter and gleam, as completely at his ease as were he perched on his three-legged stool at home. Of course, then, rambling on thus, with neither eye nor thought but for the red allurements on his feet, he must, ere long, lose sight of the road he set out to follow. This will surprise you the less when told that from the time he had put them on at the spring, it had seemed to the poor boy's fancy that the moccasins knew, as well as himself, whither they were bound, and that they would take him there by the shortest and easiest route, did he but yield himself to their guidance. The road to be followed, thus lost sight of--what wonder, then, if the place to be reached should at last be lost sight of also!

In this strange plight, the young wanderer was pursuing his way, when he was aroused from his walking dream by a broad, red glare, which struck full upon his downcast eyes, and for the moment left him blind as night.

Soon, however, his vision returned to him strong and clear, when he found himself on the top of a lofty hill, just where a gap in the forest let in the flood of sunlight; and this it was which had dazzled him into transient blindness, as, too suddenly, he had entered it from out the sombre shadows, in which he for long hours had been wandering.

Now had you seen that hill, how lofty and steep it was, and marked with what ease and swiftness our hero scaled it, you would have said at once that the red moccasins had more to do with the feat than Sprigg's own legs. The gap in the forest proved to be a long, lane-like opening through the trees, which covered only the sides of a round-backed ridge.

Through this opening Sprigg had an un.o.bstructed view toward some distant hills in the West, and could see that the sun had well nigh run his daily course. The ridge ascended gradually till it reached it greatest elevation where the boy was standing, and here ended abruptly in a promontory-like hill, which overlooked a wide sea of waving verdure far below. The brow of the hill and the crest of the ridge were not so bare of trees but that, here and there, a lofty oak tree might be seen; but the face toward the East was much too steep and smooth to offer a foothold for trees, being covered instead with a dense growth of low bushes, whose twisted twigs and crisped leaves had, from a distance, more the appearance of moss than of verdure.

Upon waking from his reverie, and turning to look behind him, Sprigg had found himself on the very brink of the declivity. Could it be possible that he had climbed it without conscious effort? Or, indeed, without any effort at all of his own! A bear climbing, paw over paw, might have been equal to the feat; but even a bear, were he minded to scale the hill, would have chosen a more circuitous and less laborious route. There was not the sign of a path made by man or beast anywhere to be seen, either up the steep or along the ridge. Even of his own footsteps, Sprigg could not discern a single trace, whether in crushed leaf, or bruised weed, or print of his moccasins left in the soft soil.

The spot was utterly strange to him; it could not have been more so, had he been taken and set down on a hill in the land of Nod. He looked around. There were hills far, far beneath the one on which he stood. And beneath these valleys and plains, while one unbroken forest spread dark and sombre over all, not a token of man or savage could he discover, whether in house, or field, or road, or column of smoke curling up from among the trees. Nothing but woods, woods. Woods! Then, like a sudden awakening from a wild dream, it flashed upon his consciousness that he was lost.

"Where am I?" cried the poor boy. "How came I here?"

"He-he-he!"

Sprigg jumped. This time, the sound that seemed so like a laugh was too completely outside of himself; too little in harmony with his present thoughts for him to fancy it was himself that laughed. First on this side, then on that. Quite near at hand he looked--not a thing of life could he see. He looked far forth; a herd of deer was grazing in a blue-gra.s.s glade, a great way off to the right; and a great way off to the left, a herd of buffalo, browsing on the tender shoots of a cane-brake, which skirted the banks of a beautiful river. Behind him, toward the setting sun, a few birds of prey were wheeling and screaming aloft in the crimson evening sky. Saving these, not a thing of life or sound was there to be seen in all the wilds. Lost! Lost! Lost! To find himself lost is the only discovery your waking dreamer is apt to make.

Then Sprigg looked down and scanned the red moccasins. They showed not a grain of dust, not a speck of mire, not a stain of gra.s.s, or weed, or water, although he had walked in them--or, if you please, they had walked with him--through many a mile of gra.s.sy wood and reedy swamp, where path was none, that had ever been trodden by foot of man. As clean and bright and red were they as when he had drawn them on in the shade of the spring trees there at home. A rather singular circ.u.mstance, certainly; and only to be explained upon the ground that, as the boy had submitted himself entirely to their guidance, the moccasins had daintily picked out the road which suited them best, and such roads, I warrant you, as common shoes were not at all in the habit of traveling.

Yes, the red charms had beguiled the young runaway, and, without any motive or knowledge of his own, had brought him to that remote and solitary spot--how, or to what end, he could not imagine. Of one thing he was certain, they had not brought him to grandpap's house, as they--for so it had seemed to him--had promised they would, and he had been so foolish as to believe they could. At last, but when it was too late, the scales were beginning to fall from his eyes. In other words, the red fog, in which he had so long been chased by the shadow he sought, was beginning to grow a little transparent, so that he could view his case in a somewhat clearer and more natural light. Apparent enough was it now that the red moccasins had deceived him, mocked him, laughed at him--in short, made a fool of Sprigg completely. This discovery brought a twinge to his self-love, far more severe than any pain of conscience he felt at the thought of the foul lie he had told, or of his shabby flight from home; even while he could not help but be aware of the grief and shame and distressing apprehensions he must thereby be causing his dear father and mother. In a pet of wrath, plump down he sat, this poor, vain boy; and, jerking the moccasins from off his feet, flung them, one after the other, over the brink of the steep, as far as his st.u.r.dy, young arms could send them.

"Curse the red moccasins!" cried the boy, as now in his bare feet he stood, the hot tears jumping suddenly out of his eyes. "You mocked me, fooled me, lost me! Curse you! and may I never----"

What more he might have said was cut short by a noise, which, while he was yet speaking, had caught his ear. A noise as of answering voices, mingled with peals of wild and mocking laughter, heard from several directions at once, and ringing out clear and shrill upon the still evening air. These sounds abruptly ceased--the more abruptly from leaving no echoes behind them, where echoes were wont to be left. But straight were they succeeded by another sound, caused, apparently, by a pair of light feet, which, with a hop, step and jump, by way of a start, were now coming in through the leaves and gra.s.s with a slow and measured tread; and so near at hand that he who walked would have been in plain view just there. At first Sprigg looked too high to see what was to be seen, but soon lowering his gaze he saw----

But close the book for a minute and guess. Can not? Try it again! Not yet? No--nor could you, were you to try from New Year's morn to New Year's eve. Wonderful, as you may think it, Sprigg saw there on the ground, not a dozen paces from him, his cast-off moccasins, coming slowly toward him--first the right foot, then the left--without so much as a pair of knee buckles to show for legs, till they had set their toes within easy speaking distance, squarely confronting him. The boy stood stock still, staring before him, with no more power to move from the spot than the bushes around him. So great was his astonishment, not to say terror, he felt at the sight of this fantastic apparition.

CHAPTER IX.

Finds the Red Moccasins Whole-souled Friends in Need.

"Are we not beautiful things for the feet, Sprigg? Oh, but we are! You can't deny it! On with us, then, and away to grandpap's house! Who said we couldn't take Sprigg to grandpap's house? Who said we couldn't take Sprigg to young Ben Logan's house? Who said we couldn't take Sprigg to pretty little Bertha's house? If Will-o'-the-Wisp said so, he lied! He lied, too, if he said our Sprigg was not a brave boy! He-he-he!"

The boy knew well enough, for he heard it distinctly enough this time, that the voice did not come from his own heart, nor yet from the moccasins, but from a point in the air, about as high up from the ground as his own mouth, as if he who spoke were standing in the moccasins, face to face with him, though not even so much as a shade of a shadow could he see.

"An elf! An elf is in the moccasins!" cried the boy, and tearing his feet from the ground, where he had stood as rooted, fled for his life, the moccasins following right at his heels and mockingly keeping step for step with him, till down in a swoon he sank at the foot of an old oak tree. How long he lay thus he never knew, but when he recovered his senses, there before him were the red moccasins, side by side, the toe of the left one turned slightly outward, as if he who stood in them were taking it quite at his ease. A self-a.s.sured air, well suiting the self-a.s.sured voice, which, in tones quite new and strange, p.r.o.nounced these words, with an emphatic pause at the end of each brief sentence:

"You may run to the green earth's end, my boy! To the sea, where the bright sun soon shall set! To the sea, where the pale moon soon shall rise! But, step for step, come we at your heels, though borne you be on the wings of the wind!"

The poor boy cowered down at the foot of the old oak, and burying his face in his c.o.o.nskin cap, remained for a long time mum and motionless.

With the red moccasins, which, in a pet of disappointment and wounded self-love, he had flung from him, had departed the marvelous stoutness of heart and strength of limb he had felt while his feet were in them.

And now, all weak and spiritless, was he left to s.h.i.+ft for himself, with such resources only as a bare-footed boy, alone in the midst of a vast wilderness, might be supposed to have at his command. Sitting thus, he began gradually taking in some idea of the sad condition to which he had brought himself by his vanity and disobedience, though his remorse for the wrong of the thing, and for the sorrow it must occasion the dear ones at home, was by no means as lively and decided as his regret for the unpleasant consequences thereof to his own particular self. There he was--he knew not how far away from home, sweet home!--all alone in that wild and solitary spot, and the darksome, dismal, terrible night soon to come creeping, creeping over his houseless head. There he was, and no dear mam--so loving, so cheerful--to give him his bowl of bread and milk! No dear pap--so kind, so merry--to tell him wild stories of Indians and Will-o'-the-Wisp and Nick of the Woods! Yes, and no good, old Pow-wow, brave old Pow-wow, to come trotting up to him, in the dear old wag-tail way, to thrust his s.h.a.ggy head into his little master's hand for a pat or a hug! It was too much for the poor, young runaway's heart, and out came a pa.s.sionate burst of tender home-sick feeling, though he did it as well as he could, smothering it up in his c.o.o.nskin cap. But soon again, bethinking him how he had been mocked and fooled by the imp in the moccasins, he summoned back the pride of his young heart and the strength of his young will, and checked his tears, lest his weakness of feeling, like his vanity, should be made the provocation of derision. In this condition he sat for many moments, quite motionless, saving when the sobs, which needs must follow his tears, came heaving up from his breast and shook his crouching little figure. Yet he did but sulk as one who, while glum with all the world besides, is far from being at peace with his own heart. His tear-wet face he still kept buried in his cap, not daring to remove it from his eyes, lest they should encounter those of the thing who stood in the moccasins, whom he felt to be watching him all this time from up there in the clear, unshadowed air. At the end of less than half an hour he was roused from his unquiet thoughts by the sound of a slow, heavy tramp, at no great distance off, followed immediately by a slight stir in the leaves and gra.s.s near-by, which caused him to start; and, before he was aware, he had dropped the cap from over his eyes. The moccasins had turned quite 'round, with their toes another way, as if the ear of him who stood in them had been caught by the same sound, and he would inform himself of the cause. Sprigg looked in the direction thus indicated, when an object met his gaze, which caused his eyes to grow big and round, then stand fixed in their sockets.

What the boy and the thing in the moccasins saw there was a bison bull--and a huge beast he was. That bull of the wilderness, and of as wild and savage an aspect, too, as you would care to behold, even within the secure enclosure of a menagerie. His hair was long and curled, and of dun or tawny color. A hump he had on his shoulders, which gave his neck a downward slope to the head, and his back a downward slope to the tail--his tail, but a short brush of a thing, scarcely reaching to his hocks. Horns, he had, too--black horns, long and strong, and tapering to a sharper point than is the case with horned cattle, generally speaking.

But the feature to which the monster chiefly owed his singular wildness of appearance was his mane, which, in s.h.a.ggy luxuriance, flowed from neck, shoulders and breast, covering the legs to the knees, and veiling the face almost to the very nose.

Now, had he seen all this in the yard at home, himself stationed on the porch, with pap on one side, Black Bess in hand, ready to shoot; Pow-wow on the other, ready to spring at the first intimation of hostile design on the part of his bulls.h.i.+p, our hero would have clapped his hands and p.r.o.nounced it a grander sight than any the old show bill could boast, always excepting, of course, the Indian boy and Shetland pony. But there, in that desolate spot, with not a living soul a-near, unless, indeed, the thing in moccasins might have a soul, a bison bull were hardly the object to awaken pleasant wonderment and lively admiration in the mind of a lost boy, who, against a pair of long, sharp horns, could oppose no weapon but a jack-knife, no s.h.i.+eld but a c.o.o.nskin cap.

When the boy first caught sight of him, the bull was already within easy viewing distance, and was soon so near that, in his turn, he could not fail to catch sight of the boy, where he still sat crouched at the foot of the tree. This was plainly to be seen, by the way the monster stopped short, turned square 'round, and lowered his huge, black front to stare at the little stranger. Bright eyes, wild eyes, Sprigg now saw a bison's eyes to be.

The fringe of mane, which veiled the face, obstructing his vision, caused the animal, when he stared at you, to roll his eyeb.a.l.l.s downward till their colored circles were half hid by their lower lids, thus leaving the upper whites exposed to view in the form of a new moon, with the points downward. To be squinted at with the side whites of the eyes, to a naughty boy like Sprigg is anything else but pleasant; but to be stared at with the upper whites of the eyes, as the bison bull was now staring at Sprigg, were enough to make you feel as if you had a wide-awake nightmare in broad daylight.

Evidently his bulls.h.i.+p was greatly surprised to find so small a boy, at so late an hour, in that out-of-the-way place, without even so much as a dog and gun to show for the business which had brought him thither.

Then, as if feeling that he had a right to investigate the matter, the bison, with short, slow, soft steps, began shortening the distance between himself and the object of his curiosity. Closer and closer he came, still with his huge, black front lowered, and his crescent-like eyes gleaming wildly out from the depths of his overshadowing mane, with a look as if he were saying within himself: "And what wee thing is this, up here in my bluegra.s.s pasture?"

Sprigg could not draw his eyes from those of the beast; nor had he the power to rise and flee from the spot, though it was well that he had not the power to run, as in that event the bull might have been tempted to give him chase, as things with horns are apt to do when we are trying our best to get out of their way. Overtaking him, the bull would have run his long, sharp horns directly under the young fugitive's arms, and, giving him a toss high up in the air, let him drop down a-straddle of his back, just behind the hump, for a pleasant evening ride. Understand me, now--I am not positive in saying that this is precisely what the bison would have done had our hero taken to his heels. Though the thing may have happened once or twice since time began, I have never heard of a runaway boy being chased by a bison bull; and, therefore, can only guess how such a beast would deport himself under the circ.u.mstances. But I am rather inclined to think he would hardly do anything more dreadful than play the savage antic just suggested; because, a moment's reflection would show him that to use his horns to a greater length, were to frighten the young runaway out of his wits, and thereby incapacitate him from being made to see and feel the error of his way.

Though, I must confess that, for my own part, I should not be willing to trust the savage fellow a single horn's length until I had subjected him to a certain old-fas.h.i.+oned test--I would first take care to see how far I could fling the bull by the tail, and make the result the measure of my confidence in his good intentions.

Step by step, still came the monster slowly on, and now was come so near that the boy could feel his moist breath warming the air around him.

Another step, and their noses had been all but within touching distance of each other. But just at that moment--just as the cry of pap! pap!

rang affrightedly out on the still evening air--the red moccasins, which, up to this time, had remained perfectly quiet, seemed to be seized all on a sudden with an animated interest in what was pa.s.sing.

With a hop, step and jump, they were, in a twinkling, right at the bull's nose and pouring upon it a shower of kicks, so rapid and stunning that the beast, huge and powerful as he was, staggered backward several paces, with a look of utter bewilderment. Nor did the pertinacious little stunners let him off till they had forced him back to the very brink of the steep; when, with a roar of fright and pain which shook the lonely wilds, the monster wheeled about, and making a blind leap, vanished over the precipice. This done, the red moccasins quietly retraced their steps, and, with the same air of easy self-a.s.surance, adjusted themselves before the boy, who, not so fearful now as sullen, buried his face once more in his c.o.o.nskin cap; and never a word of thanks to them, nor to any one else, that Sprigg was in the land of the living.

CHAPTER X.

Still at the Foot of the Old Oak Tree.