CHAPTER VIII
THE PUZZLING "DOS" AND "DON'TS"
With the coming of Monday arrived a new life for David--a curious lifefull of "don'ts" and "dos." David wondered sometimes why all thepleasant things were "don'ts" and all the unpleasant ones "dos." Cornto be hoed, weeds to be pulled, woodboxes to be filled; with all theseit was "do this, do this, do this." But when it came to lying under theapple trees, exploring the brook that ran by the field, or evenwatching the bugs and worms that one found in the earth--all these were"don'ts."
As to Farmer Holly--Farmer Holly himself awoke to some new experiencesthat Monday morning. One of them was the difficulty in successfullycombating the cheerfully expressed opinion that weeds were so prettygrowing that it was a pity to pull them up and let them all wither anddie. Another was the equally great difficulty of keeping a small boy atuseful labor of any sort in the face of the attractions displayed by apassing cloud, a blossoming shrub, or a bird singing on a tree-branch.
In spite of all this, however, David so evidently did his best to carryout the "dos" and avoid the "don'ts," that at four o'clock that firstMonday he won from the stern but would-be-just Farmer Holly his freedomfor the rest of the day; and very gayly he set off for a walk. He wentwithout his violin, as there was the smell of rain in the air; but hisface and his step and the very swing of his arms were singing (toDavid) the joyous song of the morning before. Even yet, in spite of thevicissitudes of the day's work, the whole world, to David's homesick,lonely little heart, was still caroling that blessed "You're wanted,you're wanted, you're wanted!"
And then he saw the crow.
David knew crows. In his home on the mountain he had had several ofthem for friends. He had learned to know and answer their calls. He hadlearned to admire their wisdom and to respect their moods and tempers.He loved to watch them. Especially he loved to see the great birds cutthrough the air with a wide sweep of wings, so alive, so gloriouslyfree!
But this crow--
This crow was not cutting through the air with a wide sweep of wing. Itwas in the middle of a cornfield, and it was rising and falling andflopping about in a most extraordinary fashion. Very soon David,running toward it, saw why. By a long leather strip it was fastenedsecurely to a stake in the ground.
"Oh, oh, oh!" exclaimed David, in sympathetic consternation. "Here, youjust wait a minute. I'll fix it."
With confident celerity David whipped out his jackknife to cut thethong; but he found then that to "fix it" and to say he would "fix it"were two different matters.
The crow did not seem to recognize in David a friend. He saw in him,apparently, but another of the stone-throwing, gun-shooting, torturinghumans who were responsible for his present hateful captivity. Withbeak and claw and wing, therefore, he fought this new evil that hadcome presumedly to torment; and not until David had hit upon theexpedient of taking off his blouse, and throwing it over the angrybird, could the boy get near enough to accomplish his purpose. Eventhen David had to leave upon the slender leg a twist of leather.
A moment later, with a whir of wings and a frightened squawk thatquickly turned into a surprised caw of triumphant rejoicing, the crowsoared into the air and made straight for a distant tree-top. David,after a minute's glad surveying of his work, donned his blouse againand resumed his walk.
It was almost six o'clock when David got back to the Holly farmhouse.In the barn doorway sat Perry Larson.
"Well, sonny," the man greeted him cheerily, "did ye get yer weedin'done?"
"Y--yes," hesitated David. "I got it done; but I didn't like it."
"'T is kinder hot work."
"Oh, I didn't mind that part," returned David. "What I didn't like waspulling up all those pretty little plants and letting them die."
"Weeds--'pretty little plants'!" ejaculated the man. "Well, I'll bejiggered!"
"But they WERE pretty," defended David, reading aright the scorn inPerry Larson's voice. "The very prettiest and biggest there were,always. Mr. Holly showed me, you know,--and I had to pull them up."
"Well, I'll be jiggered!" muttered Perry Larson again.
"But I've been to walk since. I feel better now."
"Oh, ye do!"
"Oh, yes. I had a splendid walk. I went 'way up in the woods on thehill there. I was singing all the time--inside, you know. I was so gladMrs. Holly--wanted me. You know what it is, when you sing inside."
Perry Larson scratched his head.
"Well, no, sonny, I can't really say I do," he retorted. "I ain't muchon singin'."
"Oh, but I don't mean aloud. I mean inside. When you're happy, youknow."
"When I'm--oh!" The man stopped and stared, his mouth falling open.Suddenly his face changed, and he grinned appreciatively. "Well, if youain't the beat 'em, boy! 'T is kinder like singin'--the way ye feelinside, when yer 'specially happy, ain't it? But I never thought of itbefore."
"Oh, yes. Why, that's where I get my songs--inside of me, youknow--that I play on my violin. And I made a crow sing, too. Only HEsang outside."
"SING--A CROW!" scoffed the man. "Shucks! It'll take more 'n you termake me think a crow can sing, my lad."
"But they do, when they're happy," maintained the boy. "Anyhow, itdoesn't sound the same as it does when they're cross, or plagued oversomething. You ought to have heard this one to-day. He sang. He was soglad to get away. I let him loose, you see."
"You mean, you CAUGHT a crow up there in them woods?" The man's voicewas skeptical.
"Oh, no, I didn't catch it. But somebody had, and tied him up. And hewas so unhappy!"
"A crow tied up in the woods!"
"Oh, I didn't find THAT in the woods. It was before I went up the hillat all."
"A crow tied up--Look a-here, boy, what are you talkin' about? Wherewas that crow?" Perry Larson's whole self had become suddenly alert.
"In the field 'Way over there. And somebody--"
"The cornfield! Jingo! Boy, you don't mean you touched THAT crow?"
"Well, he wouldn't let me TOUCH him," half-apologized David. "He was soafraid, you see. Why, I had to put my blouse over his head before he'dlet me cut him loose at all."
"Cut him loose!" Perry Larson sprang to his feet. "You did n't--youDIDn't let that crow go!"
David shrank back.
"Why, yes; he WANTED to go. He--" But the man before him had fallenback despairingly to his old position.
"Well, sir, you've done it now. What the boss'll say, I don't know; butI know what I'd like ter say to ye. I was a whole week, off an' on,gettin' hold of that crow, an' I wouldn't have got him at all if Ihadn't hid half the night an' all the mornin' in that clump o' bushes,watchin' a chance ter wing him, jest enough an' not too much. An' eventhen the job wa'n't done. Let me tell yer, 't wa'n't no small thing terget him hitched. I'm wearin' the marks of the rascal's beak yet. An'now you've gone an' let him go--just like that," he finished, snappinghis fingers angrily.
In David's face there was no contrition. There was only increduloushorror.
"You mean, YOU tied him there, on purpose?"
"Sure I did!"
"But he didn't like it. Couldn't you see he didn't like it?" criedDavid.
"Like it! What if he didn't? I didn't like ter have my corn pulled up,either. See here, sonny, you no need ter look at me in that tone o'voice. I didn't hurt the varmint none ter speak of--ye see he couldfly, didn't ye?--an' he wa'n't starvin'. I saw to it that he had enoughter eat an' a dish o' water handy. An' if he didn't flop an' pull an'try ter get away he needn't 'a' hurt hisself never. I ain't ter blamefor what pullin' he done."
"But wouldn't you pull if you had two big wings that could carry you tothe top of that big tree there, and away up, up in the sky, where youcould talk to the stars?--wouldn't you pull if somebody a hundred timesbigger'n you came along and tied your leg to that post there?"
The man, Perry, flushed an angry red.
"See here, sonny, I wa'n't askin' you ter do no preachin'. What I didain't no more'n any man 'round here does--if he's smart en
ough tercatch one. Rigged-up broomsticks ain't in it with a live bird when itcomes ter drivin' away them pesky, thievin' crows. There ain't a farmer'round here that hain't been green with envy, ever since I caught thecritter. An' now ter have you come along an' with one flip o'yer knifespile it all, I--Well, it jest makes me mad, clean through! That's all."
"You mean, you tied him there to frighten away the other crows?"
"Sure! There ain't nothin' like it."
"Oh, I'm so sorry!"
"Well, you'd better be. But that won't bring back my crow!"
David's face brightened.
"No, that's so, isn't it? I'm glad of that. I was thinking of thecrows, you see. I'm so sorry for them! Only think how we'd hate to betied like that--" But Perry Larson, with a stare and an indignantsnort, had got to his feet, and was rapidly walking toward the house.
Very plainly, that evening, David was in disgrace, and it took all ofMrs. Holly's tact and patience, and some private pleading, to keep ageneral explosion from wrecking all chances of his staying longer atthe farmhouse. Even as it was, David was sorrowfully aware that he wasproving to be a great disappointment so soon, and his violin playingthat evening carried a moaning plaintiveness that would have been verysignificant to one who knew David well.
Very faithfully, the next day, the boy tried to carry out all the"dos," and though he did not always succeed, yet his efforts were soobvious, that even the indignant owner of the liberated crow wassomewhat mollified; and again Simeon Holly released David from work atfour o'clock.
Alas, for David's peace of mind, however; for on his walk to-day,though he found no captive crow to demand his sympathy, he foundsomething else quite as heartrending, and as incomprehensible.
It was on the edge of the woods that he came upon two boys, eachcarrying a rifle, a dead squirrel, and a dead rabbit. The threatenedrain of the day before had not materialized, and David had his violin.He had been playing softly when he came upon the boys where the pathentered the woods.
"Oh!" At sight of the boys and their burden David gave an involuntarycry, and stopped playing.
The boys, scarcely less surprised at sight of David and his violin,paused and stared frankly.
"It's the tramp kid with his fiddle," whispered one to the otherhuskily.
David, his grieved eyes on the motionless little bodies in the boys'hands, shuddered.
"Are they--dead, too?"
The bigger boy nodded self-importantly.
"Sure. We just shot 'em--the squirrels. Ben here trapped the rabbits."He paused, manifestly waiting for the proper awed admiration to comeinto David's face.
But in David's startled eyes there was no awed admiration, there wasonly disbelieving horror.
"You mean, you SENT them to the far country?"
"We--what?"
"Sent them. Made them go yourselves--to the far country?"
The younger boy still stared. The older one grinned disagreeably.
"Sure," he answered with laconic indifference. "We sent 'em to the farcountry, all right."
"But--how did you know they WANTED to go?"
"Wanted--Eh?" exploded the big boy. Then he grinned again, still moredisagreeably. "Well, you see, my dear, we didn't ask 'em," he gibed.
Real distress came into David's face.
"Then you don't know at all. And maybe they DIDn't want to go. And ifthey didn't, how COULD they go singing, as father said? Father wasn'tsent. He WENT. And he went singing. He said he did. But these--Howwould YOU like to have somebody come along and send YOU to the farcountry, without even knowing if you wanted to go?"
There was no answer. The boys, with a growing fear in their eyes, as atsight of something inexplicable and uncanny, were sidling away; and ina moment they were hurrying down the hill, not, however, without abackward glance or two, of something very like terror.
David, left alone, went on his way with troubled eyes and a thoughtfulfrown.
David often wore, during those first few days at the Holly farmhouse, athoughtful face and a troubled frown. There were so many, many thingsthat were different from his mountain home. Over and over, as thosefirst long days passed, he read his letter until he knew it byheart--and he had need to. Was he not already surrounded by things andpeople that were strange to him?
And they were so very strange--these people! There were the boys andmen who rose at dawn--yet never paused to watch the sun flood the worldwith light; who stayed in the fields all day--yet never raised theireyes to the big fleecy clouds overhead; who knew birds only as thievesafter fruit and grain, and squirrels and rabbits only as creatures tobe trapped or shot. The women--they were even more incomprehensible.They spent the long hours behind screened doors and windows, washingthe same dishes and sweeping the same floors day after day. They, too,never raised their eyes to the blue sky outside, nor even to thecrimson roses that peeped in at the window. They seemed rather to belooking always for dirt, yet not pleased when they found it--especiallyif it had been tracked in on the heel of a small boy's shoe!
More extraordinary than all this to David, however, was the fact thatthese people regarded HIM, not themselves, as being strange. As if itwere not the most natural thing in the world to live with one's fatherin one's home on the mountain-top, and spend one's days trailingthrough the forest paths, or lying with a book beside some babblinglittle stream! As if it were not equally natural to take one's violinwith one at times, and learn to catch upon the quivering strings thewhisper of the winds through the trees! Even in winter, when the cloudsthemselves came down from the sky and covered the earth with their softwhiteness,--even then the forest was beautiful; and the song of thebrook under its icy coat carried a charm and mystery that were quitewanting in the chattering freedom of summer. Surely there was nothingstrange in all this, and yet these people seemed to think there was!