The Quest of the Silver Fleece | Page 2

the swamp. He
hesitated, then impelled by some strange power, left the highway and
slipped into the forest of the swamp, shrinking, yet following the song
hungrily and half forgetting his fear. A harsher, shriller note struck in
as of many and ruder voices; but above it flew the first sweet music,
birdlike, abandoned, and the boy crept closer.
The cabin crouched ragged and black at the edge of black waters. An
old chimney leaned drunkenly against it, raging with fire and smoke,
while through the chinks winked red gleams of warmth and wild cheer.
With a revel of shouting and noise, the music suddenly ceased. Hoarse

staccato cries and peals of laughter shook the old hut, and as the boy
stood there peering through the black trees, abruptly the door flew open
and a flood of light illumined the wood.
Amid this mighty halo, as on clouds of flame, a girl was dancing. She
was black, and lithe, and tall, and willowy. Her garments twined and
flew around the delicate moulding of her dark, young, half-naked limbs.
A heavy mass of hair clung motionless to her wide forehead. Her arms
twirled and flickered, and body and soul seemed quivering and
whirring in the poetry of her motion.
As she danced she sang. He heard her voice as before, fluttering like a
bird's in the full sweetness of her utter music. It was no tune nor
melody, it was just formless, boundless music. The boy forgot himself
and all the world besides. All his darkness was sudden light; dazzled he
crept forward, bewildered, fascinated, until with one last wild whirl the
elf-girl paused. The crimson light fell full upon the warm and velvet
bronze of her face--her midnight eyes were aglow, her full purple lips
apart, her half hid bosom panting, and all the music dead. Involuntarily
the boy gave a gasping cry and awoke to swamp and night and fire,
while a white face, drawn, red-eyed, peered outward from some hidden
throng within the cabin.
"Who's that?" a harsh voice cried.
"Where?" "Who is it?" and pale crowding faces blurred the light.
The boy wheeled blindly and fled in terror stumbling through the
swamp, hearing strange sounds and feeling stealthy creeping hands and
arms and whispering voices. On he toiled in mad haste, struggling
toward the road and losing it until finally beneath the shadows of a
mighty oak he sank exhausted. There he lay a while trembling and at
last drifted into dreamless sleep.
It was morning when he awoke and threw a startled glance upward to
the twisted branches of the oak that bent above, sifting down sunshine
on his brown face and close curled hair. Slowly he remembered the
loneliness, the fear and wild running through the dark. He laughed in

the bold courage of day and stretched himself.
Then suddenly he bethought him again of that vision of the night--the
waving arms and flying limbs of the girl, and her great black eyes
looking into the night and calling him. He could hear her now, and hear
that wondrous savage music. Had it been real? Had he dreamed? Or
had it been some witch-vision of the night, come to tempt and lure him
to his undoing? Where was that black and flaming cabin? Where was
the girl--the soul that had called him? She must have been real; she had
to live and dance and sing; he must again look into the mystery of her
great eyes. And he sat up in sudden determination, and, lo! gazed
straight into the very eyes of his dreaming.
She sat not four feet from him, leaning against the great tree, her eyes
now languorously abstracted, now alert and quizzical with mischief.
She seemed but half-clothed, and her warm, dark flesh peeped furtively
through the rent gown; her thick, crisp hair was frowsy and rumpled,
and the long curves of her bare young arms gleamed in the morning
sunshine, glowing with vigor and life. A little mocking smile came and
sat upon her lips.
"What you run for?" she asked, with dancing mischief in her eyes.
"Because--" he hesitated, and his cheeks grew hot.
"I knows," she said, with impish glee, laughing low music.
"Why?" he challenged, sturdily.
"You was a-feared."
He bridled. "Well, I reckon you'd be a-feared if you was caught out in
the black dark all alone."
"Pooh!" she scoffed and hugged her knees. "Pooh! I've stayed out all
alone heaps o' nights."
He looked at her with a curious awe.

"I don't believe you," he asserted; but she tossed her head and her eyes
grew scornful.
"Who's a-feared of the dark? I love night." Her eyes grew soft.
He watched her silently, till, waking from her daydream, she abruptly
asked:
"Where you from?"
"Georgia."
"Where's that?"
He looked at