V
THE EPISODE OF THE INDIAN'S AUNT
The sun blazed down, as any truly self-respecting sun should, on a fineAugust afternoon; yet its heat was tempered by a soft, cool breeze thatjust stirred the leaves above my head. The river was busy whisperingmany things to the reeds, things which, had I been wise enough tounderstand, might have helped me to write many wonderful books, for, asit is so very old, and has both seen and heard so much, it is naturallyvery wise. But alas! being ignorant of the language of rivers, I hadto content myself with my own dreams, and the large, speckled frog,that sat beside me, watching the flow of the river with his big,gold-rimmed eyes.
He was happy enough I was sure. There was a complacent satisfaction inevery line of his fat, mottled body. And as I watched him my mind verynaturally reverted to the "Pickwick Papers," and I repeated Mrs.Lyon-Hunter's deathless ode, beginning:
Can I see thee panting, dying, On a log, Expiring frog!
The big, green frog beside me listened with polite attention, but, onthe whole, seemed strangely unmoved. Remembering the book in mypocket, I took it out; an old book, with battered leathern covers,which has passed through many hands since it was first published, morethan two hundred years ago.
Indeed it is a wonderful, a most delightful book, known to the world as"The Compleat Angler," in which, to be sure, one may read something offish and fishing, but more about old Izaac's lovable self, his sunnystreams and shady pools, his buxom milkmaids, and sequestered inns, andhis kindly animadversions upon men and things in general. Yet, as Isay, he does occasionally speak of fish and fishing, and amongst othermatters, concerning live frogs as bait, after describing the properestmethod of impaling one upon the hook, he ends with this injunction:
Treat it as though you loved it, that it may live the longer!
Up till now the frog had preserved his polite attentiveness in a mannerhighly creditable to his upbringing, but this proved too much; hisover-charged feelings burst from him in a hoarse croak, and hedisappeared into the river with a splash.
"Good-afternoon, Uncle Dick!" said a voice at my elbow, and lookinground, I beheld Dorothy. Beneath one arm she carried the fluffykitten, and in the other hand a scrap of paper.
"I promised Reginald to give you this," she continued, "and--oh yes--Iwas to say 'Hist!' first."
"Really! And why were you to say 'Hist'?"
"Oh, because all Indians always say 'Hist!' you know."
"To be sure they do," I answered; "but am I to understand that you arean Indian?"
"Not ta-day," replied Dorothy, shaking her head. "Last time Reginaldpainted me Auntie was awfull' angry--it took her and nurse ages to getit all off--the war-paint, I mean--so I'm afraid I can't be an Indianagain!"
"That's very unfortunate!" I said.
"Yes, isn't it; but nobody can be an Indian chief without anywar-paint, can they?"
"Certainly not," I answered. "You seem to know a great deal about it."
"Oh, yes," nodded Dorothy. "Reginald has a book all about Indians andfull of pictures--and here's the letter," she ended, and slipped itinto my hand.
Smoothing out its many folds and creases, I read as follows:
To my pail-face brother:
Ere another moon, Spotted Snaik will be upon the war-path, and red goarshall flo in buckkit-fulls.
"It sounds dreadful, doesn't it?" said Dorothy, hugging her kitten.
"Horrible!" I returned.
"He got it out of the book, you know," she went on, "but I put in thepart about the buckets--a bucket holds such an awful lot, don't youthink? But there's some more on the other page." Obediently I turned,and read:
'ere another moon, scalps shall dangel at belt of Spotted Snaik, for inhis futsteps lurk deth, and distruksion. But fear not pail-face, thouart my brother--fairwell.
Sined SPOTTED SNAIK.
"There was lots more, but we couldn't get it in," said Dorothy.Squeezed up into a corner I found this postscript:
If you will come and be an Indian Cheef unkel dick, I will make you aspear, and you can be Blood-in-the-Eye. He was a fine chap and nobodycould beat him except Spotted Snaik, will you Unkel dick?
"He wants you to write an answer, and I'm to take it to him," saidDorothy.
"Blood-in-the-Eye!" I repeated; "no, I'm afraid not. I shouldn'tobject so much to becoming a red-skin--for a time--but Blood-in-the-Eye!Really, Dorothy, I'm afraid I couldn't manage that."
"He was very brave," returned Dorothy, "and awfull' strong, andcould--could 'throw his lance with such unerring aim, as to pin his foeto the nearest tree--in the twinkle of an eye.' That's in the book, youknow."
"There certainly must be a great deal of satisfaction in pinning one'sfoe to a tree," I nodded.
"Y-e-e-s, I suppose so," said Dorothy rather dubiously.
"And where is Spotted Snake--I mean, what is he doing?"
"Oh, he's down by the river with his bow and arrow, scouting forcanoes. It was great fun! He shot at a man in a boat--and nearly hithim, and the man got very angry indeed, so we had to hide among thebushes, just like real Indians. Oh, it was fine!"
"But your Auntie Lisbeth said you weren't to play near the river, youknow," I said.
"That's what I told him," returned Dorothy, "but he said that Indiansdidn't have any aunts, and then I didn't know what to say. What do youthink about it, Uncle Dick?"
"Well," I answered, "now I come to consider, I can't remember everhaving heard of an Indian's aunt."
"Poor things!" said Dorothy, giving the fluffy kitten a kiss betweenthe ears.
"Yes, it's hard on them, perhaps, and yet," I added thoughtfully, "anaunt is sometimes rather a mixed blessing. Still, whether an Indianpossesses an aunt or not, the fact remains that water has an unpleasanthabit of wetting one, and on the whole, I think I'll go and see whatSpotted Snake is up to."
"Then I think I'll come with you a little way," said Dorothy, as Irose. "You see, I have to get Louise her afternoon's milk."
"And how is Louise?" I inquired, pulling the fluffy kitten's nearestear.
"Very well, thank you," answered Dorothy demurely; "but oh dear me!kittens 'are such a constant source of worry and anxiety!' AuntieLisbeth sometimes says that about Reginald and me. I wonder what shewould say if we were kittens!"
"Bye the bye, where is your Auntie Lisbeth?" I asked in a strictlyconversational tone.
"Well, she's lying in the old boat."
"In the old boat!" I repeated.
"Yes," nodded Dorothy; "when it's nice and warm and sleepy, liketo-day, she takes a book, and a pillow, and a sunshade, and she goesand lies in the old boat under the Water-stairs. There, just look atthis naughty Louise!" she broke off, as the kitten scrambled up to hershoulder and stood there, balancing itself very dextrously with curiousangular movements of its tail; "that's because she thinks I'veforgotten her milk, you know; she's dreadfully impatient, but I supposeI must humour her this once. Good-afternoon!" And, having given meher hand in her demure, old-fashioned way, Dorothy hurried off, thekitten still perched upon her shoulder, its tail jerking spasmodicallywith her every step.
In a little while I came in view of the Water-stairs, yet although Ipaused more than once to look about me, I saw no sign of the Imp.Thinking he was most probably 'in ambush' somewhere, I continued myway, whistling an air out of "The Geisha" to attract his notice. Tenminutes or more elapsed, however, without any sign of him, and I wasalready close to the stairs, when I stopped whistling all at once, andholding my breath, crept forward on tiptoe.
There before me was the old boat, and in it--her cheek upon a crimsoncushion and the sun making a glory of her tumbled hair--wasLisbeth--asleep.
Being come as near as I dared for fear of waking her, I sat down, andlighting my pipe, fell to watching her--the up-curving shadow of herlashes, the gleam of teeth between the scarlet of her parted lips, andthe soft undulation of her bosom. And from the heavy braids of herhair my glance wandered down to the little tan shoe peeping at
mebeneath her skirt, and I called to mind how Goethe has said:
'A pretty foot is not only a continual joy, but it is the one elementof beauty that defies the assaults of Time.'
Sometimes a butterfly hovered past, a bee filled the air with hisdrone, or a bird settled for a moment upon the stairs near-by to preena ruffled feather, while soft and drowsy with distance came theceaseless roar of the weir.
I do not know how long I had sat thus, supremely content, when I wassuddenly aroused by a rustling close at hand.
"Hist!"
I looked up sharply, and beheld a head, a head adorned with sundryfeathers, and a face hideously streaked with red and green paint; butthere was no mistaking those golden curls--it was the Imp!
"Hist!" he repeated, bringing out the word with a prolonged hiss, andthen--before I could even guess at his intention--there was the swiftgleam of a knife, a splash of the severed painter, and caught by thetide the old boat swung out, and was adrift.
The Imp stood gazing on his handiwork with wide eyes, and then as Ileaped to my feet something in my look seemed to frighten him, forwithout a word he turned and fled. But all my attention was centred inthe boat, which was drifting slowly into mid-stream with Lisbeth stillfast asleep. And as I watched its sluggish progress, with a suddenchill I remembered the weir, which foamed and roared only a shorthalf-mile away. If the boat once got drawn into that--!
Now, I am quite aware that under these circumstances the right andproper thing for me to have done, would have been to throw aside mycoat, tear off my boots, etc., and "boldly breast the foamy flood." ButI did neither, for the simple reason that once within the 'foamy flood'aforesaid, there would have been very little chance of my ever gettingout again, for--let me confess the fact with the blush of shame--I amno swimmer.
Yet I was not idle, far otherwise. Having judged the distance betweenthe drifting boat and the bank, I began running along, seeking thething I wanted. And presently, sure enough, I found it--a greatpollard oak, growing upon the edge of the water, that identical treewith the 'stickie-out' branches which has already figured in thesenarratives as the hiding-place of a certain pair of silk stockings.
Hastily swinging myself up, I got astride the lowest branch, whichprojected out over the water. I had distanced the boat by some hundredyards, and as I sat there I watched its drift, one minute full of hope,and the next as miserably uncertain. My obvious intention was to crawlout upon the branch until it bent with my weight, and so let myselfinto, or as near the boat as possible. It was close now, so close thatI could see the gleam of Lisbeth's hair and the point of the little tanshoe. With my eyes on this, I writhed my way along the bough, whichbent more and more as I neared the end. Here I hung, swaying up anddown and to and fro in a highly unpleasant manner, while I waited thecrucial moment.
Never upon this whole round earth did anything creep as that boat did.There was a majestic deliberation in its progress that positivelymaddened me. I remember to have once read an article somewhere uponthe "Sensibility of Material Things," or something of the sort, which Ihad forgotten long since, but as I hung there suspended between heavenand earth, it came back to me with a rush, and I was perfectly certainthat, recognising my precarious position, that time-worn, ancient boatchecked its speed out of "pure cussedness."
But all things have an end, and so, little by little the blunt bowcrept nearer until it was in the very shade of my tree. Grasping thebranch, I let myself swing at arm's length; and then I found that I wasat least a foot too near the bank. Edging my way, therefore, stillfurther along the branch, I kicked out in a desperate endeavour toreach the boat, and, the bough swaying with me, caught my toe insidethe gunwale, drew it under me, and loosing my grasp, was sprawling uponmy hands and knees, but safe aboard.
To pick myself up was the work of a moment, yet scarcely had I done so,when Lisbeth opened her eyes, and sitting up, stared about her.
"Why--where am I?" she exclaimed.
"On the river," I answered cheerfully. "Glorious afternoon, Lisbeth,isn't it?"
"How-in-the-world did you get here?" she inquired.
"Well," I answered, "I might say I dropped in as it were." Lisbethbrushed the hair from her temples, and turned to me with an imperiousgesture.
"Then please take me back at once," she said.
"I would with pleasure," I returned, "only that you forgot to bring theoars."
"Why, then, we are adrift!" she said, staring at me with frightenedeyes, and clasping her hands nervously.
"We are," I nodded; "but, then, it's perfect weather for boating,Lisbeth!" And I began to look about for something that might serve asa paddle. But the stretchers had disappeared long since--the old tubwas a sheer hulk, so to speak. An attempt to tear up a floor boardresulted only in a broken nail and bleeding fingers; so I presentlydesisted, and rolling up my sleeves endeavoured to paddle with myhands. But finding this equally futile, I resumed my coat, and tookout pipe and tobacco.
"Oh, Dick! is there nothing you can do?" she asked, with a braveattempt to steady the quiver in her voice.
"With your permission, I'll smoke, Lisbeth."
"But the weir!" she cried; "have you forgotten the weir?"
"No," I answered, shaking my head; "it has a way of obtruding itself onone's notice--"
"Oh, it sounds hateful--hateful!" she said with a shiver.
"Like a strong wind among trees!" I nodded, as I filled my pipe. Wewere approaching a part of the river where it makes a sharp bend to theright; and well I knew what lay beyond--the row of posts, paintedwhite, with the foam and bubble of seething water below. We shouldround that bend in about ten minutes, I judged; long before then wemight see a boat, to be sure; if not--well, if the worst happened, Icould but do my best; in the meantime I would smoke a pipe; but I willadmit my fingers trembled as I struck a match.
"It sounds horribly close!" said Lisbeth.
"Sound is very deceptive, you know," I answered.
"Only last month a boat went over, and the man was drowned!" shudderedLisbeth.
"Poor chap!" I said. "Of course it's different at night--the river isawfully deserted then, you know, and--"
"But it happened in broad day light!" said Lisbeth, almost in awhisper. She was sitting half turned from me, her gaze fixed on thebend of the river, and by chance her restless hand had found and begunto fumble with the severed painter.
So we drifted on, watching the gliding banks, while every moment theroar of the weir grew louder and more threatening.
"Dick," she said suddenly, "we can never pass that awful place withoutoars!" and she began to tie knots in, the rope with fingers that shookpitifully.
"Oh, I don't know!" I returned, with an assumption of ease I was veryfar from feeling; "and then, of course, we are bound to meet a boat orsomething--"
"But suppose we don't?"
"Oh, well, we aren't there yet--and er--let's talk of fish."
"Ah, Dick," she cried, "how can you treat the matter so lightly when wemay be tossing down there in that awful water so very soon! We cannever pass that weir without oars, and you know it, and--and--oh, Dick,why did you do it--how could you have been so mad?"
"Do what?" I inquired, staring.
With a sudden gesture she rose to her knees and fronted me.
"This!" she cried, and held up the severed painter. "It has been cut!Oh, Dick! Dick! how could you be so mad."
"Lisbeth!" I exclaimed, "do you mean to say that you think--"
"I know!" she broke in, and turning away, hid her face in her hands. Wewere not so very far from the bend now, and seeing this, a suddeninspiration came upon me, by means of which I might prove her mindtowards me once and for all; and as she kneeled before me with avertedface, I leaned forward and took her hands in mine.
"Lisbeth," I said, "supposing I did cut the boat adrift like a--afool--endangering your life for a mad, thoughtless whim--could youforgive me?"
For a long moment she remained without answering, then very slowly
sheraised her head:
"Oh, Dick!" was all she said, but in her eyes I read the wonder ofwonders.
"But, Lisbeth," I stammered, "could you still love me--even--even if,through my folly, the worst should happen and we--we--"
"I don't think I shall be so very much afraid, Dick, if you will holdme close like this," she whispered.
The voice of the weir had swelled into a roar by now, yet I paid littleheed; for me all fear was swallowed up in a great wondering happiness.
"Dick," she whispered, "you will hold me tight, you will not let me gowhen--when--"
"Never," I answered; "nothing could ever take you from me now." As Ispoke I raised my eyes, and glancing about beheld something whichaltered the whole aspect of affairs--something which changed tragedyinto comedy all in a moment--a boat was coming slowly round the bend.
"Lisbeth, look up!" With a sigh she obeyed, her clasp tightening onmine, and a dreadful expectation in her eyes. Then all at once it wasgone, her pale cheeks grew suddenly scarlet, and she slipped from myarms; and thereafter I noticed how very carefully her eyes avoided mine.
The boat came slowly into view, impelled by one who rowed with exactlythat amount of splashing which speaks the true-born Cockney. By dint ofmuch exertion and more splashing, he presently ranged alongside inanswer to my hail.
"Wo't--a haccident then?" he inquired.
"Something of the sort," I nodded. "Will you be so kind as to tow usto the bank yonder?"
"Hanythink to hoblige!" he grinned, and having made fast the painter,proceeded to splash us to terra-firma. Which done, he grinned again,waved his hat, and splashed upon his way. I made the boat secure andturned to Lisbeth. She was staring away towards the weir.
"Lisbeth," I began.
"I thought just now that--that it was the end!" she said, and shivered.
"And at such times," I added, "one sometimes says things one would nothave said under ordinary circumstances. My dear, I quiteunderstand-quite, and I'll try to forget--you needn't fear."
"Do you think you can?" she asked, turning to look at me.
"I can but try," I answered. Now as I spoke I wasn't sure, but Ithought I saw the pale ghost of the dimple by her mouth.
We walked back side by side along the river-path, very silently, forthe most part, yet more than once I caught her regarding me covertlyand with a puzzled air.
"Well?" I said at last, tentatively.
"I was wondering why you did it, Dick? Oh, it was mean! cruel! wicked!How could you?"
"Oh, well"--and I shrugged my shoulders, anathematising the Imp mentallythe while.
"If I hadn't noticed that the rope was freshly cut, I should havethought it an accident," she went on.
"Naturally!" I said.
"And then, again, how came you in the boat?"
"To be sure!" I nodded.
"Still, I can scarcely believe that you would willfully jeopardise bothour lives--my life!"
"A man who would do such a thing," I exclaimed, carried away by theheat of the moment, "would be a--a--"
"Yes," said Lisbeth quickly, "he would."
"--And utterly beyond the pale of all forgiveness!"
"Yes," said Lisbeth, "of course."
"And," I was beginning again, but meeting her searching glance,stopped. "And you forgave me, Lisbeth," I ended.
"Did I?" she said, with raised brows.
"Didn't you?"
"Not that I remember."
"In the boat?"
"I never said so?"
"Not in words, perhaps, but you implied as much." Lisbeth had the graceto blush.
"Do I understand that I am not forgiven after all?"
"Not until I know why you did such a mad, thoughtless trick," sheanswered, with that determined set of her chin which I knew so well.
That I should thus shoulder the responsibility for the Imp's misdeedswas ridiculous, and wrong as it was unjust, for if ever boy deservedpunishment that boy was the Imp. And yet, probably because he was theImp, or because of that school-boy honour which forbids "sneaking," andwhich I carried with me still, I held my peace; seeing which, Lisbethturned and left me.
I stood where I was, with head bent in an attitude suggestive ofinnocence, broken hopes, and gentle resignation, but in vain; she neveronce looked back. Still, martyr though I was, the knowledge that I hadimmolated myself upon the altar of friendship filled me with a sense ofconscious virtue that I found not ill-pleasing. Howbeit, seeing I ambut human after all, I sat down and re-filling my pipe, fell once moreanathematising the Imp.
"Hist!"
A small shape flittered from behind an adjacent tree, and lo! thesubject of my thoughts stood before me.
Imp' I said "come here." He obeyed readily. "When you cut that ropeand set your Auntie Lisbeth adrift, you didn't remember the man who wasdrowned in the weir last month, did you?"
"No!" he answered, staring.
"Of course not," I nodded; "but all the same it is not your fault thatyour Auntie Lisbeth is not drowned--just as he was."
"Oh!" exclaimed the Imp, and his beloved bow slipped from his nervelessfingers.
"Imp," I went on, "it was a wicked thing to cut that rope, a mean,cruel trick, Don't you think so?"
"I 'specks it was, Uncle Dick."
"Don't you think you ought to be punished?" He nodded. "Very well," Ianswered, "I'll punish you myself. Go and cut me a nice, straightswitch," and I handed him my open penknife. Round-eyed, the Impobeyed, and for a space there was a prodigious cracking and snapping ofsticks. In a little while he returned with three, also the blade of myknife was broken, for which he was profusely apologetic.
"Now," I said as I selected the weapon fittest for the purpose, "I amgoing to strike you hard on either hand with this stick that is, if youthink you deserve it."
"Was Aunt Lisbeth nearly drowned--really?" he inquired.
"Very nearly, and was only saved by a chance."
"All right, Uncle Dick, hit me," he said, and held out his hand. Thestick whizzed and fell--once--twice. I saw his face grow scarlet andthe tears leap to his eyes, but he uttered no sound.
"Did it hurt very much, my Imp?" I inquired, as I tossed the stickaside. He nodded, not trusting himself to speak, while I turned tolight my pipe, wasting three matches quite fruitlessly.
"Uncle Dick," he burst out at last, struggling manfully against hissobs, "I--I'm awfull'--sorry--"
"Oh, its all right now, Imp. Shake hands!" Joyfully the little, grimyfingers clasped mine, and from that moment I think there grew upbetween us a new understanding.
"Why, Imp, my darling, you're crying!" exclaimed a voice, and with arustle of skirts Lisbeth was down before him on her knees.
"I know I am--'cause I'm awfull' sorry--an' Uncle Dick's whipped myhands--an' I'm glad!"
"Whipped your hands?" cried Lisbeth, clasping him closer, and glaringat me, "Whipped your hands--how dare he! What for?"
"'Cause I cut the rope an' let the boat go away with you, an' you mighthave been drowned dead in the weir, an' I'm awfull' glad Uncle Dickwhipped me."
"O-h-h!" exclaimed Lisbeth, and it was a very long drawn "oh!" indeed.
"I don't know what made me do it," continued the imp. "I 'specks itwas my new knife--it was so nice an sharp, you know."
"Well, it's all right now, my Imp," I said, fumbling for a match in asingularly clumsy manner. "If you ask me, I think we are all betterfriends than ever--or should be. I know I should be fonder of yourAuntie Lisbeth even than before, and take greater care of her, if Iwere you. And--and now take her in to tea, my Imp, and--and see thatshe has plenty to eat," and lifting my hat I turned away. But Lisbethwas beside me, and her hand was on my arm before I had gone a yard.
"We are having tea in the same old place--under the trees. If youwould care to--to--would you?"
"Yes, do--oh do, Uncle Dick!" cried the Imp. "I'll go and tell Jane toset a place for you," and he bounded off.
"I didn't hit him very hard," I said, breaki
ng a somewhat awkwardsilence; "but you see there are some things a gentleman cannot do. Ithink he understands now."
"Oh, Dick!" she said very softly; "and to think I could imagine you haddone such a thing--you; and to think that you should let me think youhad done such a thing--and all to shield that Imp? Oh, Dick! no wonderhe is so fond of you. He never talks of any one but you--I grow quitejealous sometimes. But, Dick, how did you get into that boat?"
"By means of a tree with 'stickie-out' branches."
"Do you mean to say--"
"That, as I told you before, I dropped in, as it were."
"But supposing you had slipped?"
"But I didn't."
"And you can't swim a stroke!"
"Not that I know of."
"Oh, Dick! can you ever forgive me?"
"On three conditions."
"Well?"
"First, that you let me remember everything you said to me while wewere drifting down to the river."
"That depends, Dick. And the second?"
"The second lies in the fact that not far from the village of Down, inKent, there stands an old house--a quaint old place that is badly inwant of some one to live in it--an old house that is lonely for awoman's sweet presence and gentle, busy hands, Lisbeth!"
"And the third?" she asked very softly.
"Surely you can guess that?"
"No, I can't, and, besides, there's Dorothy coming--and--oh, Dick!"
"Why, Auntie," exclaimed Dorothy, as she came up, "how red you are! Iknew you'd get sunburned, lying in that old boat without a parasol!But, then, she will do it, Uncle Dick--oh, she will do it!"