The Third Violet | Page 8

time Stanley, the dog, discovered some ants scurrying in the
moss, and he at once began to watch them and wag his tail.
"Isn't it curious," observed Hawker, "how an animal as large as a dog
will sometimes be so entertained by the very smallest things?"
Stanley pawed gently at the moss, and then thrust his head forward to
see what the ants did under the circumstances.
"In the hunting season," continued Hawker, having waited a moment,
"this dog knows nothing on earth but his master and the partridges. He
is lost to all other sound and movement. He moves through the woods
like a steel machine. And when he scents the bird--ah, it is beautiful!
Shouldn't you like to see him then?"

Some of the ants had perhaps made war-like motions, and Stanley was
pretending that this was a reason for excitement. He reared aback, and
made grumbling noises in his throat.
After another pause Hawker went on: "And now see the precious old
fool! He is deeply interested in the movements of the little ants, and as
childish and ridiculous over them as if they were highly
important.--There, you old blockhead, let them alone!"
Stanley could not be induced to end his investigations, and he told his
master that the ants were the most thrilling and dramatic animals of his
experience.
"Oh, by the way," said Hawker at last, as his glance caught upon the
crags across the river, "did you ever hear the legend of those rocks
yonder? Over there where I am pointing? Where I'm pointing? Did you
ever hear it? What? Yes? No? Well, I shall tell it to you." He settled
comfortably in the long grass.
CHAPTER VII.
"Once upon a time there was a beautiful Indian maiden, of course. And
she was, of course, beloved by a youth from another tribe who was very
handsome and stalwart and a mighty hunter, of course. But the
maiden's father was, of course, a stern old chief, and when the question
of his daughter's marriage came up, he, of course, declared that the
maiden should be wedded only to a warrior of her tribe. And, of course,
when the young man heard this he said that in such case he would, of
course, fling himself headlong from that crag. The old chief was, of
course, obdurate, and, of course, the youth did, of course, as he had said.
And, of course, the maiden wept." After Hawker had waited for some
time, he said with severity, "You seem to have no great appreciation of
folklore."
The girl suddenly bent her head. "Listen," she said, "they're calling.
Don't you hear Hollie's voice?"
They went to another place, and, looking down over the shimmering

tree-tops, they saw Hollanden waving his arms. "It's luncheon," said
Hawker. "Look how frantic he is!"
The path required that Hawker should assist the girl very often. His
eyes shone at her whenever he held forth his hand to help her down a
blessed steep place. She seemed rather pensive. The route to luncheon
was very long. Suddenly he took a seat on an old tree, and said: "Oh, I
don't know why it is, whenever I'm with you, I--I have no wits, nor
good nature, nor anything. It's the worst luck!"
He had left her standing on a boulder, where she was provisionally
helpless. "Hurry!" she said; "they're waiting for us."
Stanley, the setter, had been sliding down cautiously behind them. He
now stood wagging his tail and waiting for the way to be cleared.
Hawker leaned his head on his hand and pondered dejectedly. "It's the
worst luck!"
"Hurry!" she said; "they're waiting for us."
At luncheon the girl was for the most part silent. Hawker was
superhumanly amiable. Somehow he gained the impression that they all
quite fancied him, and it followed that being clever was very easy.
Hollanden listened, and approved him with a benign countenance.
There was a little boat fastened to the willows at the edge of the black
pool. After the spread, Hollanden navigated various parties around to
where they could hear the great hollow roar of the falls beating against
the sheer rocks. Stanley swam after sticks at the request of little Roger.
Once Hollanden succeeded in making the others so engrossed in being
amused that Hawker and Miss Fanhall were left alone staring at the
white bubbles that floated solemnly on the black water. After Hawker
had stared at them a sufficient time, he said, "Well, you are an heiress,
you know."
In return she chose to smile radiantly. Turning toward him, she said, "If

you will be good now--always--perhaps I'll forgive you."
They drove home in the sombre shadows of the hills, with Stanley
padding along under the wagon. The Worcester girls tried to induce
Hollanden to sing,