Chambers Robert William
The Little Red Foot
"Your light still blazed from your window," she said. "I had some misgiving that you sat here brooding all alone."
I felt my face flush, for it had deeply humiliated me that she should know how I was offered no employment while others had been called or permitted to seek relief from inglorious idleness.
She flung the bright banner of her hair over her right shoulder, caressed the thick and shining tresses, and so continued combing, still watching me, her head a little on one side.
"All know you to be faithful, diligent and brave," said she. "You should not let it chafe your pride because others are called to duty before you are summoned. Often it chances that Merit paces the ante-chamber while Mediocrity is granted audience. But Opportunity redresses such accidents."
"Opportunity," I repeated sneeringly, " – where is she? – for I have not seen or heard of that soft-footed jade who, they say, comes a-knocking once in a life-time; and thereafter knocks at our door no more."
"Oh, John Drogue – John Drogue," said she in her strange and wistful way, "you shall hear the clear summons on your door very soon – all too soon for one of us, – for one of us, John Drogue."
Her brown eyes were on me, unabashed; by touch she was dividing the yellow masses of her hair into two equal parts. And now she slowly braided each to peg them for the night beneath her ruffled cap.
When she had braided and pegged her hair, she took the night-cap from her apron pocket and drew it over her golden head, tying the tabs under her chin.
"It is strange," she said with her wistful smile, "that, though the world is ending, we needs must waste in sleep a portion of what time remains to us… And so I am for bed, John Drogue… Lest that same tapping-jade come to your door tonight and waken me, also, with her loud knocking."
"Why do you say so? Have you news?"
"Did I not once foresee a battle in the North? And men in strange uniforms?"
"Yes," said I, smiling away the disappointment of a vague and momentary hope.
"I think that battle will happen very soon," she said gravely.
"You said that I should be there, – with that pale shadow in its shroud. Very well; only that I be given employment and live to see at least one battle, I care not whether I meet my weird in its winding-sheet. Because any man of spirit, and not a mouse, had rather meet his end that way than sink into dissolution in aged and toothless idleness."
"If you were not a very young and untried soldier," said she, "you would not permit impatience to ravage you and sour you as it does. And for me, too, it saddens and spoils our last few days together."
"Our last few days? You speak with a certainty – an authority – "
"I know the summons is coming very soon."
"If I could but believe in your Scottish second-sight – "
"Would you be happy?"
"Happy! I should deem myself the most fortunate man on earth! – if I could believe your Scottish prophecy!"
She came nearer, and her eyes seemed depthless dusky in her pale face.
"If that is all you require for happiness, John Drogue," said she in her low, still voice, "then you may take your pleasure of it. I tell you I know! And we have but few hours left together, you and I."
Spite of common sense and disbelief in superstitions I could not remain entirely unconcerned before such perfect sincerity, though that she believed in her own strange gift could scarcely convince me.
"Come," said I smilingly, "it may be so. At all events, you cheer me, Penelope, and your kindness heartens me… Forgive my sullen temper; – it is hard for a man to think himself ignored and perhaps despised. And my ears ache with listening for that same gentle tapping upon my door."
"I hear it now," she said under her breath.
"I hear nothing."
"Alas, no! Yet, that soft-footed maid is knocking on your door… If only you had heart to hear."
"One does not hear with one's heart," said I, smiling, and stirred to plague her for her mixed metaphor.
"I do," said she, faintly.
After a little silence she turned to go; and I followed, scarce knowing why; and took her hand in the doorway.
"Little prophetess," said I, "who promises me what my heart desires, will you touch your lips to mine as a pledge that your prophecy shall come true?"
She looked back over her shoulder, and remained so, her cheek on her right shoulder.
"Your heart desires a battle, John Drogue; your idle vanity my lips… But you may possess them if you will."
"I do love you dearly, Penelope Grant."
She said with a breathless little smile:
"Would you love me better if my prophecy came true this very night?"
But I was troubled at that, and had no mind to sound those unventured deeps which, at such moments, I could feel vaguely astir within me. Nor yet did I seriously consider what I truly desired of this slender maid within the circle of my arms, nor what was to come of such sudden encounters with their swift smile and oddly halting breath and the heart, surprised, rhyming rapidly and unevenly in a reckless measure which pleasured less than it embarrassed.
She loosed her hands and drew away from me, and leaned against the wall, not looking toward me.
"I think," she said in a stifled voice, "you are to have your wish this night… Do you hear anything?"
In the intense stillness, straining my ears, I fancied presently that I heard a distant sound in the night. But if it had been so it died out, and the beat of my heart was louder. Then, of a sudden, I seemed to hear it again, and thought it was my pulses startled by sudden hope.
"What is that sound?" I whispered. "Do you hear it?"
"Aye."
"I hear it also… Is it imagination? Is there a horse on the highway? Why, I tell you there is!.. There is! Do you think he rides express?"
"Out o' the North, my lord," she whispered. And suddenly she turned, gave me a blind look, stretched out one hand.
"Why do you think that horseman comes for me!" I said. My imagination caught fire, flamed, and I stood shivering and crushing her fingers in my grasp. "Why – why – do you think so?" I stammered. "He's turned into William Street! He gallops this way! Damnation! He heads toward the Hall! – No! No! By God, he is in our street, galloping – galloping – "
Like a pistol shot came a far cry in the darkness: "Express-ho! I pass! I pass!" The racket of iron-shod hoofs echoed in the street; doors and windows flew open; a confusion of voices filled my ears; the rattling roar of the hoofs came to a clashing halt.
"Jimmy Burke's Tavern!" shouted a hoarse voice.
"Ye're there, me gay galloper!" came Burke's bantering voice. "An' phwat's afther ye that ye ride the night like a banshee? Is it Sir John that's chasin' ye crazy, Jock Gallopaway?"
"Ah-h," retorted the express, "fetch a drink for me and tell me is there a Mr. Drogue lodging here? Hey? Upstairs? Well, wait a minute – "
I still had Penelope's hand in mine as in the grip of a vise, so excited was I, when the express came stamping up the stairs in his jack-boots and pistols – a light-horseman of the Albany troop, who seemed smart enough in his mud-splashed helmet and uniform.
"You are Mr. Drogue, sir?"
"I am."
He promptly saluted, fished out a letter from his sack and offered it.
In my joy I gave him five shillings in hard money, and then, dragging Penelope by the hand, hastened to break the numerous and heavy seals and open my letter and read it by the candle's yellow flare.
"Headquarters Northern Dist:Dept: of Tryon County.Albany, N. Y.August 1st, 1777.
Confidential
"To John Drogue, Esqr,
Lieut: Rangers.
Sir,
"An Oneida runner arrived today, who gives an account that Genl St. Leger, with the corps of Sir John Johnson and Colonel John Butler, including a thousand savages under Joseph Brant, has been detached from the army of Genl Burgoyne, and is marching on Fort Schuyler.
"You are directed to take the field instantly with a scout of Oneida Indians, who await you at a rendezvous marked upon the secret map which I enclose herewith.
"You will cross the Buck Island trail somewhere between Rocky River and the Mohawk, and observe St. Leger's line of communications, cutting off such small posts as prove not too strong, taking prisoners if possible, and ascertaining St. Leger's ultimate objective, which may be Johnstown or even Schenectady.
"Having satisfied yourself concerning these matters, you will send your despatch by a runner to Albany, and instantly move your detachment toward Saratoga, where you should come into touch with our Northern forces under General Gates, and there render a verbal report to General Gates in person.
"You are strictly cautioned to destroy this letter after reading, and to maintain absolute secrecy concerning its contents. The map you may retain, but if you are taken you should endeavour to destroy it.
"Sir, I have the honour to be, etc., etc.,
"Ph. Schuyler,"Maj: Gen'l."
Twice I read the letter before I twisted it to a torch and burned it in the candle flame.
Then I called out to the express: "Say to the personage who sent you hither that his letter is destroyed, and his orders shall be instantly obeyed. Burke has fresh horses for those who ride express."
Off downstairs he went in his jack-boots, equipments jingling and clanking, and I unfolded my map but scarce could hold it steady in my excitement.
Immediately I perceived that I did not need the map to find the rendezvous, for, as Brent-Meester, I had known that wilderness as perfectly as I knew the streets in Johnstown.
So I made another torch of the map, laughing under my breath to think that Sir William's late forest warden should require such an article.
All this time, too, I had forgotten Penelope; and turned, now, and saw her watching me, slim and motionless and white as snow.
When her eyes met mine she strove to smile, asking me whether indeed she had not proven a true prophetess.
As she spoke, suddenly a great fear possessed me concerning her; and I stood staring at her in a terrible perplexity.
For now there seemed to be nothing for it but to leave her here, the Schenectady road already being unsafe, or so considered by Schuyler until more certain information could be obtained.
"Do you leave tonight?" she asked calmly.
"Yes, immediately."
She cast a glance at my rifle standing in the corner, and at my pack, which I had always ready in the event of such sudden summons.
Now I went over to the corner where my baggage lay, lifted the pack and strapped it; put on powder horn, bullet pouch, and sack, slung my knife and my light war-hatchet, and took my cap and rifle.
The moment of parting was here. It scared and confused me, so swiftly had it come upon us.
As I went toward her she turned and walked to the door, and leaned against the frame awaiting me.
"If trouble comes," I muttered, "the fort is strong… But I wish to God you were in Albany."
"I shall do well enough here… Will you come again to Johnstown?"
"Yes. Good-bye."
"Good-bye, John Drogue."
"Will you care for Kaya?"
"Yes."
"And if I do not return you are to have all with which I die possessed. I have written it."
"In that event I keep only my memory of you. The rest I offer to the needy – in your name."
Her voice was steady, and her hand, too, where it lay passive in mine. But it crisped and caught my fingers convulsively when I kissed her; and crept up along my fringed sleeve to my shoulder-cape, and grasped the green thrums.
And now her arm lay tightly around my neck, and I looked down into the whitest face I ever had gazed upon.
"I love you dearly," I said, "and am deep in love… I want you, Penelope Grant."
"I want you," she said.
My heart was suffocating me:
"Shall we exchange vows?" I managed to say.
"What vows, sir?"
"Such as engage our honour. I want you to wife, Penelope Grant."
"Dear lad! What are you saying? You should travel widely and at leisure before you commit your honour to an unconsidered vow. I desire that you first see great cities, other countries, other women – of your own caste… And then … if you return … and are still of the same mind … concerning me…"
"But you? There are other men in the world. And I must have your vows before I go!"
"Oh, if it be only mine you desire, then I promise you, John Drogue, to look at no man with kindness in your absence, think of no man excepting you, pray for none save only His Excellency and General Schuyler, dream of none, God willing, but you. And to remain in deed and thought and word and conduct constant and faithful to you alone."
"Then," said I, trembling, "I also promise – "
"No!"
"But I – "
"Wait! For God's sake mind what you say; for I will not have it that your honour should ever summon you hither and not your heart! No! Let be as it is."
Her sudden warmth and the quick flush of determination on her face checked and silenced me.
She said very coolly: "Any person of sense must know that a marriage is unsuitable between a servant to Douw Fonda and John Murray Drogue Forbes, Laird of Northesk, and a Stormont to boot!"
"Where got you that Forbes?" I demanded, astonished and angry.
She laughed. "Because I know the clan, my lord!"
"How do you know?" I repeated, astounded.
"Because it is my own clan and name. Drogue-Forbes, Grant-Forbes! – a claymore or a pair of scissors can snip the link when some Glencoe or Culloden of adversity scatters families to the four winds and seven seas… Well, sir, as the saying is in Northesk, 'a Drogue stops at nothing but a Forbes. And a Grant is as stubborn.' Did you ever hear that?"
"Yes… And you are a Forbes of Northesk?"
"Like yourself, sir, we stop before a liaison."
Her rapier wit confused and amazed me; her sudden revelation of our kinship confounded me.
"Good God," said I, "why have you never told me this, Penelope?"
She shook her yellow head defiantly: "A would na," quoth she, her chin hanging down, but the brown eyes of her watching me. "And it was a servant-maid you asked to wife you, and none other either… D'ye ken that, you Stormont lad? It was me – me! – who may wear the Beadlaidh, too! – me who can cry 'Lonach! Lonach! Creag Ealachaidh!' with as stout a heart and clean a pride as you, Ian Drogue, Laird o' Northesk! – laird o' my soul and heart – my lord – my dear, dear lord – "
She flung her arms across her face and burst into a fit of weeping; and as I caught her in my arms she leaned so on my breast, sobbing out her happiness and fears and pride and love, and her gratitude to God that I should have loved her for herself in the body of a maid-servant, and that I had bespoken her fairly where in all the land no man had offered more than that which she might take from him out of his left hand.
So, for a long while, we stood there together, clasped breast to breast, dumb with tenderness and mazed in the spell of first young love.
I stammered my vows, and she now opposed me nothing, only clinging to me the closer, confident, submissive, acquiescent in all I wished and asked and said.
There were ink, paper, a quill, and sand in her chamber. We went thither, and I wrote out drafts upon Schenectady, and composed letters of assurance and recognition, which would be useful to her in case of necessity.
I got Jimmy Burke out o' bed and shewed him all I had writ, and made him witness our signatures and engaged him to appear if necessary.
These papers and money drafts, together with Penelope's papers and letters she had of Douw Fonda and of the Patroon, were sufficient to establish her with the new will I made and had witnessed at the fort a week before.
And so, at midnight, in her little chamber at Burke's Inn, I parted from Penelope Grant, – dropped to my knee and kissed her feet, who had been servant to the county gentry and courted by the county quality, but had been mistress of none in all the world excepting only of herself.
When I was ready she handed me my rifle, buckled up my shoulder sack, smoothed my fringed cape with steady hands, walked with me to her chamber door.
Her face rested an instant against mine, but there were no tears, no trembling, only the swift passion of her lips; and then – "God be with you, John Drogue!" And so, with gay courage, closed her chamber door.
I turned and stumbled out along the corridor, carrying my rifle and feeling my way to the hand-rail, down the creaking stairway, and out into the starry night.
CHAPTER XXVII
FIRE-FLIES
That night I lay on my blanket in the forest, but slept only three hours, and was awake in the gates of morning before the sun rose, ready to move on to the Wood of Brakabeen, our rendezvous in Schoharie.
Never shall I forget that August day so crowded with events.
And first in the yellow flare of sun-up, on the edge of a pasture where acres of dew sparkled, I saw a young girl milking; and went to her to beg a cup of new milk.
But she was very offish until she learned to what party I belonged, and then gave me a dipper full of sweet milk.
When I had satisfied my thirst, she took me by the hand and drew me into a grove of pines where none could observe us. And here she told me her name, which was Angelica Vrooman, and warned me not to travel through Schoharie by any highway.
For, said she, the district was all smouldering with disloyalty, and the Tories growing more defiant day by day with news of Sir John's advance and McDonald also on the way from the southward to burn the place and murder all.
"My God, sir," says she, in a very passion of horror and resentment, "I know not how we, in Schoharie, shall contrive, for Herkimer has called out our regiment and they march this morning to their rendezvous with the Palatine Regiment.
"What are we to do, sir? The Middle Fort alone is defensible; the Upper and Lower Forts are still a-building, and sodders still at labour, and neither ditch nor palisade begun."
"You have your exempts," said I, troubled, "and your rangers."
"Our exempts work on the forts; our rangers are few and scattered, and Colonel Harper knows not where to turn for a runner or a rifleman!
"General Schuyler has writ to my father and says how he desires General Ten Broeck to order out the whole of the militia, only that he fears that they will behave like the Schenectady and Schoharie militia have done and that very few will march unless provision is made for their families' security.
"A man rides express today to the garrison in the Highlands to pray for two hundred Continentals. Which is only just, as we are exposed to McDonald and Sir John, and have already sent most of our men to the Continental Line, and have left only our regiment, which marches today, and the remainder all disaffected and plotting treason."
"Plotting treason? What do you mean, child?" I demanded anxiously.
"Why, sir, Captain Mann and his company refuse to march. He declares himself a friend to King George, has barricaded Brick House,36 is collecting Indians and Tories, and swears he will join McDonald's outlaws and destroy us unless we lay down our arms and accept royal protection."
"Why – why the filthy dog!" I stammered, "I have never heard the like of such treason!"
"Can you help us, sir?" she asked earnestly.
"I shall endeavour to do so," said I, red with wrath.
"Our people have planned to seize and barricade Stone House," said she. "My father rides express to Albany. Why, sir, so put to it are we that Henry Hager, an aged exempt of over seventy years, is scouting for our party. Is our situation not pitiful?"
"Have all the young men gone? Have you no brothers to defend this house?"
"No, sir… I have a lover… He is Lieutenant Wirt, of the Albany Light Horse. But he has writ to my father that he can not leave his cavalry to help us."
It was sad enough; and I promised the girl I would do what I could; and so left her, continuing on along the fences in the shadow of the woods.
It was not long afterward when I heard military music in the distance. And now, from a hill, I saw long files of muskets shining in the early sun.
It was the Canajoharie Regiment marching with fife, drum, and bugle-horn to join Herkimer; and so near they passed at the foot of the low hill where I stood that I could see and recognize their mounted officers; and saw, riding with them, Spencer, the Oneida interpreter, splendidly horsed; and Colonel Cox, old George Klock's smart son-in-law, who, when Brant asked him if he were not related to that thieving villain of the Moonlight Survey, replied: "Yes, I am, but what is that to you, you s – of an Indian!"
I saw and recognized Colonels Vrooman and Zielie, Majors Becker and Eckerson, and Larry Schoolcraft, the regimental adjutant; and, sitting upon their transport waggon, Dirck Larraway, Storm Becker, Jost Bouck of Clavarack, and Barent Bergen of Kinderhook.
So, in the morning sunshine, marched the 15th N. Y. Militia, carrying in its ranks the flower of the district's manhood and the principal defenders of the Schoharie Valley.
Very soberly I turned away into the woods.
For it was a strange and moving and dreadful sight I had beheld, knowing personally almost every man who was marching there toward the British fire, and aware that practically every soldier in those sturdy ranks had a brother, or father, or son, or relative of some description in the ranks of the opposing party.
Here, indeed, were the seeds of horror that civil war sprouts! For I think that only the Hager family, and perhaps the Beckers, were all mustered in our own service. But there were Tory Vroomans, Swarts, Van Dycks, Eckersons, Van Slycks – aye, even Tory Herkimer, too, which most furiously saddened our brave old General Honikol.
Well, I took to the forest as I say, but it was so thick and the travelling so wearisome, that I bore again to the left, and presently came out along the clearings and pasture fences.
Venturing now to travel the highway for a little way, and being stopped by nobody, I became more confident; and when I saw a woman washing clothes by the Schoharie Creek, I did not trouble to avoid her, but strode on.
She heard me coming, and looked up over her shoulder; and I saw she was a notorious slattern of the Valley, whose name, I think, was Staats, but who was commonly known as Rya's Pup.
"Aha!" says she, clearing the unkempt hair from her ratty face. "What is Forbes o' Culloden doing in Schoharie? Sure," says she, "there must be blood to sniff in the wind when a Northesk bloodhound comes here a-nosing northward!"
"Well, Madame Staats," said I calmly, "you appear to know more about Culloden than do I myself. Did that great loon, McDonald, tell you all these old-wives' tales?"
"Ho-ho!" says she, her two hands on her hips, a-kneeling there by the water's edge, "the McDonalds should know blood, too, when they smell it."
"You seem to be friends with that outlaw. And do you know where he now is?" I asked carelessly.
"If I do," says the slut, with an oath, "it is my own affair and none of the Forbes or Drogues or such kittle-cattle either; – mark that, my young cockerel, and journey about your business!"
"You are not very civil, Madame Staats."
"Why, you damned rebel," says she, "would you teach me manners?"
"God forbid, madam," said I, smiling. "I'd wear gray hairs ere you learned your a-b-c."
"You'll wear no hair at all when McDonald is done with you," she cries, and bursts into laughter so shocking that I go on, shivering and sad to see in any woman such unkindness.
About noon I saw Lawyer's Tavern; and from the fences north of the house I secretly observed it for a long while before venturing thither.
John Lawyer, whatever his political complexion, welcomed me kindly and gave me dinner.
I asked news, and he gave an account that Brick House was now but a barracks full of Tories and Schoharie Indians, led by Sethen and Little David or Ogeyonda, a runner, who now took British money and wore scarlet paint.
"We in this valley know not what to do," said he, "nor dare, indeed, do aught save take protection from the stronger party, as it chances to be at the moment, and thank God we still wear our proper hair."
And, try as I might, I could not determine to which party he truly belonged, so wary was mine host and so fearful of committing himself.
The sun hung low when I came to the Wood of Brakabeen; and saw the tall forest oaks, their tops all rosy in the sunset, and the great green pines wearing their gilded spires against the evening sky.
Dusk fell as I traversed the wood, where, deep within, a cool and ferny glade runs east and west, and a small and icy stream flows through the nodding grasses of the swale, setting the wet green things and spray-drenched blossoms quivering along its banks.
And here, suddenly, in the purple dusk, three Indians rose up and barred my way. And I saw, with joy, my three Oneidas, Tahioni the Wolf, Kwiyeh the Screech-owl, Hanatoh the Water-snake, all shaven, oiled, and in their paint; and all wearing the Tortoise and The Little Red Foot.
So deeply the encounter affected me that I could scarce speak as I pressed their extended hands, one after another, and felt their eager, caressing touch on my arms and shoulders.
"Brother," they said, "we are happy to be chosen for the scout under your command. We are contented to have you with us again.
"We were told by the Saguenay, who passed here on his way to the Little Falls, that you had recovered of your hurts, but we are glad to see for ourselves that this is so, and that our elder brother is strong and well and fit once more for the battle-trail!"
I told them I was indeed recovered, and never felt better than at that moment. I inquired warmly concerning each, and how fortune had treated them. I listened to their accounts of stealthy scouting, of ambushes in silent places, of death-duels amid the eternal dusk of shaggy forests, where sunlight never penetrated the matted roof of boughs.
They shewed me their scalps, their scars, their equipment, accoutrement, finery. They related what news was to be had of the enemy, saying that Stanwix was already invested by small advance parties of Mohawks under forester officers; that trees had been felled across Wood Creek; that the commands of Gansevoort and Willett occupied the fort on which soldiers still worked to sod the parapets.
Of McDonald, however, they knew nothing, and nothing concerning Burgoyne, but they had brazenly attended the Iroquois Federal Council, when their nation was summoned there, and saw their great men, Spencer and Skenandoa treated with cold indifference when the attitude of the Oneida nation was made clear to the Indian Department and the Six Nations.
"Then, brother," said Tahioni sadly, "our sachems covered themselves in their blankets, and Skenandoa led them from the last Onondaga fire that ever shall burn in North America."
"And we young warriors followed," added Kwiyeh, "and we walked in silence, our hands resting on our hatchets."
"The Long House is breaking in two," said the Water-snake. "In the middle it is sinking down. It sags already over Oneida Lake. The serpent that lives there shall see it settling down through the deep water to lie in ruins upon the magic sands forever."
After a decent silence Tahioni patted the Little Red Foot sewed on the breast of my hunting shirt.
"If we all are to perish," he said proudly, "they shall respect our scalps and our memory. Haih! Oneida! We young men salute our dying nation."
I lifted my hatchet in silence, then slowly sheathed it.
"Is our Little Maid of Askalege well?" I asked.
"Thiohero is well. The River-reed makes magic yonder in the swale," said Tahioni seriously.
"Is Thiohero here?" I exclaimed.
Her brother smiled: "She is a girl-warrior as well as our Oneida prophetess. Skenandoa respects and consults her. Spencer, who worships your white God and is still humble before Tharon, has said that my sister is quite a witch. All Oneidas know her to be a sorceress. She can make a pair of old moccasins jump about when she drums."
"Where is she now?"
"Yonder in the glade dancing with the fire-flies."
I walked forward in the luminous dusk, surrounded by my Oneidas. And, of a sudden, in the swale ahead I saw sparks whirling up in clouds, but perceived no fire.
"Fire-flies," whispered Tahioni.
And now, in the centre of the turbulent whirl of living sparks, I saw a slim and supple shape, like a boy warrior stripped for war, and dancing there all alone amid the gold and myriad greenish dots of light eddying above the swale grass.
Swaying, twisting, graceful as a thread of smoke, the little sorceress danced in a perfect whirlwind of fire-flies, which made an incandescent cloud enveloping her.
And I heard her singing in a low, clear voice the song that timed the rhythm of her naked limbs and her painted body, from which the cinctured wampum-broidered sporran flew like a shower of jewels:
"Wood o' Brakabeen,
Hiahya!
Leaves, flowers, grasses green,
Dancing where you lean
Above the stream unseen,
Hiahya!
Dance, little fireflies,
Like shooting stars in winter skies;
Dance, little fireflies,
As the Oneida Dancers whirl,
Where silver clouds unfurl,
Revealing a dark Heaven
And Sisters Seven.
Hiahya! Wood o' Brakabeen!
Hiahya! Grasses green!
You shall tell me what they mean
Who ride hither,
Who 'bide thither,
Who creep unseen
In red coats and in green;
Who come this way,
Who come to slay!
Hiahya! my fireflies!
Tell me all you know
About the foe!
Where hath he hidden?
Whither hath he ridden?
Where are the Maquas in their paint,
Who have forgotten their Girl-Sainte?37
Hiahya!
I am The River-Reed!
Hiahya!
All things take heed!
Naked, without drum or mask
I do my magic task.
Fireflies, tell me what I ask!.."
"He-he!" chuckled The Water-snake, "Thiohero is quite a witch!"
We seated ourselves. If the Little Maid of Askalege, whirling in her dance, perceived us through her veil of living phosphorescence, she made no sign.
And it was a long time before she stood still, swayed outward, reeled across the grass, and fell face down among the ferns.
As I sprang to my feet Tahioni caught my arm.
"Remain very silent and still, my elder brother," he said gravely.
For a full hour, I think, the girl lay motionless among the ferns. The cloud of fire-flies had vanished. Rarely one sparkled distantly now, far away in the glade.
