Darrel of the Blessed Isles | Page 3

to shreds by the
rough wind, fell hissing in a scatter of snow. Next morning when Allen
opened his door the wind was gone, the sky clear. Brier Pond, lately
covered with clear ice, lay under a blanket of snow. He hurried across
the pond, his dog following. Near the far shore was a bare spot on the
ice cut by one of the sleigh-runners. Up in the woods, opposite, was the
Moss Trail. Sunlight fell on the hills above him. He halted, looking up
at the tree-tops. Twig, branch, and trunk glowed with the fire of
diamonds through a lacy necking of hoar frost. Every tree had put on a

jacket of ice and become as a fountain of prismatic hues. Here and
there a dead pine rose like a spire of crystal; domes of deep-coloured
glass and towers of jasper were as the landmarks of a city. Allen
climbed the shore, walking slowly. He could see no track of sleigh or
dog or any living thing. A frosted, icy tangle of branches arched the
trail--a gateway of this great, crystal city of the woods. He entered,
listening as he walked. Branches of hazel and dogwood were like jets
of water breaking into clear, halted drops and foamy spray above him.
He went on, looking up at this long sky-window of the woods. In the
deep silence he could hear his heart beating.
"Sport," .said he to the dog, "show me the way;" but the dog only
wagged his tail.
Allen returned to the house.
"Wife," said he, "look at the woods yonder. They are like the city of
holy promise. 'Behold I will lay thy stones with fair colours and thy
foundations with sapphires, and I will make thy windows of agate.'"
"Did you find the track of the little sleigh?" said she.
"No," he answered, "nor will any man, for all paths are hidden."
"Theron--may we keep the boy?" she inquired.
"I think it is the will of God," said Allen.
The boy grew and throve in mind and body. For a time he prattled in a
language none who saw him were able to comprehend. But he learned
English quickly and soon forgot the jargon of his babyhood. The
shadows of mystery that fell over his coming lengthened far into his
life and were deepened by others that fell across them. Before he could
have told the story, all memory of whom he left or whence he came had
been swept away. It was a house of riddles where Allen dwelt--a rude
thing of logs and ladders and a low roof and two rooms. Yet one ladder
led high to glories no pen may describe. The Allens, with this rude
shelter, found delight in dreams of an eternal home whose splendour
and luxury would have made them miserable here below. What a riddle
was this! And then, as to the boy Sid, there was the riddle of his
coming, and again that of his character, which latter was, indeed, not
easy to solve. There were few books and no learning in that home. For
three winters Trove tramped a trail to the schoolhouse two miles away,
and had no further schooling until he was a big, blond boy of fifteen,
with red cheeks, and eyes large, blue, and discerning, and hands

hardened to the axe helve. He had then discovered the beauty of the
woods and begun to study the wild folk that live in holes and thickets.
He had a fine face. You would have called him handsome, but not they
among whom he lived. With them handsome was as handsome did, and
the face of a man, if it were cleanly, was never a proper cause of blame
or compliment. But there was that in his soul, which even now had
waked the mother's wonder and set forth a riddle none were able to
solve.

III
The Clock Tinker
The harvesting was over in Brier Dale. It was near dinner-time, and
Allen, Trove, and the two hired men were trying feats in the dooryard.
Trove, then a boy of fifteen, had outdone them all at the jumping. A
stranger came along, riding a big mare with a young filly at her side.
He was a tall, spare man, past middle age, with a red, smooth-shaven
face and long, gray hair that fell to his rolling collar. He turned in at the
gate. A little beyond it his mare halted for a mouthful of grass. The
stranger unslung a strap that held a satchel to his side and hung it on the
pommel.
"Go and ask what we can do for him," Allen whispered to the boy.
Trove went down the drive, looking up at him curiously.
"What can I do for you?" he inquired.
"Give