Two Little Savages Read online

  VI

  Glenyan

  Oh! what a song the Wild Geese sang that year! How their trumpet clangwent thrilling in his heart, to smite there new and hidden chords thatstirred and sang response. Was there ever a nobler bird than thatgreat black-necked Swan, that sings not at his death, but in his floodof life, a song of home and of peace--of stirring deeds and huntingin far-off climes--of hungerings and food, and raging thirsts to meetwith cooling drink. A song of wind and marching, a song of burstinggreen and grinding ice--of Arctic secrets and of hidden ways. A songof a long black marsh, a low red sky, and a sun that never sets.

  An Indian jailed for theft bore bravely through the winter, but whenthe springtime brought the Gander-clang in the black night sky, hestarted, fell, and had gone to his last, long, hunting home.

  Who can tell why Jericho should fall at the trumpet blast?

  Who can read or measure the power of the Honker-song?

  Oh, what a song the Wild Geese sang that year! And yet, was it a newsong? No, the old, old song, but Yan heard it with new ears. He waslearning to read its message. He wandered on their trailless track, asoften as he could, northward, ever northward, up the river from thetown, and up, seeking the loneliest ways and days. The river turned tothe east, but a small stream ran into it from the north: up that Yanwent through thickening woods and walls that neared each other, on andup until the walls closed to a crack, then widened out into a littledale that was still full of original forest trees. Hemlock, Pine,Birch and Elm of the largest size abounded and spread over the clearbrook a continuous shade. Fox vines trailed in the open places, therarest wild-flowers flourished, Red-squirrels chattered from thetrees. In the mud along the brook-side were tracks of Coon and Minkand other strange fourfoots. And in the trees overhead, the Veery, theHermit-thrush, or even a Woodthrush sang his sweetly solemn strain, inthat golden twilight of the midday forest. Yan did not know them allby name as yet, but he felt their vague charm and mystery. It seemedsuch a far and lonely place, so unspoiled by man, that Yan persuadedhimself that surely he was the first human being to stand there, thatit was his by right of discovery, and so he claimed it and named itafter its discoverer--Glenyan.

  This place became the central thought in his life. He went there atall opportunities, but never dared to tell any one of his discovery.He longed for a confidant sometimes, he hankered to meet the strangerand take him there, and still he feared that the secret would get out.This was his little kingdom; the Wild Geese had brought him here, asthe Seagulls had brought Columbus to a new world--where he could lead,for brief spells, the woodland life that was his ideal. He was tenderenough to weep over the downfall of a lot of fine Elm trees in town,when their field was sold for building purposes, and he used to suffera sort of hungry regret when old settlers told how plentiful the Deerused to be. But now he had a relief from these sorrows, for surelythere was one place where the great trees should stand and grow as inthe bright bygone; where the Coon, the Mink and the Partridge shouldlive and flourish forever. No, indeed, no one else should know of it,for if the secret got out, at least hosts of visitors would come andGlenyan be defiled. No, better that the secret should "die with him,"he said. What that meant he did not really know, but he had read thephrase somewhere and he liked the sound of it. Possibly he wouldreveal it on his deathbed.

  Yes, that was the proper thing, and he pictured a harrowing scene ofweeping relatives around, himself as central figure, all ceasing theirwailing and gasping with wonder as he made known the mighty secret ofhis life--delicious! it was almost worth dying for.

  So he kept the place to himself and loved it more and more. He wouldlook out through the thick Hemlock tops, the blots of Basswood greenor the criss-cross Butternut leafage and say: "My own, my own." Ordown by some pool in the limpid stream he would sit and watch thearrowy Shiners and say: "You are mine, all; you are mine. You shallnever be harmed or driven away."

  A spring came from the hillside by a green lawn, and here Yan wouldeat his sandwiches varied with nuts and berries that he did not like,but ate only because he was a wildman, and would look lovingly up theshady brookland stretches and down to the narrow entrance of the glen,and say and think and feel. "This is mine, my own, my very own."