Two Little Savages | Page 8

he must be going.
"Weel, good-by, laddie; Ah hope Ah'll see you again." He held out his
hand. Yan shook it warmly; but he was dazed with thinking and with
reaction; his diffidence and timidity were strong; he never rose to the
stranger's veiled offer. He let him go without even learning his name or
address.
When it was too late, Yan awoke to his blunder. He haunted all those
woods in hopes of chancing on him there again, but he never did.

VI
Glenyan
Oh! what a song the Wild Geese sang that year! How their trumpet
clang went thrilling in his heart, to smite there new and hidden chords
that stirred and sang response. Was there ever a nobler bird than that
great black-necked Swan, that sings not at his death, but in his flood of
life, a song of home and of peace--of stirring deeds and hunting in
far-off climes--of hungerings and food, and raging thirsts to meet with
cooling drink. A song of wind and marching, a song of bursting green
and grinding ice--of Arctic secrets and of hidden ways. A song of 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 when the
springtime brought the Gander-clang in the black night sky, he started,
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 new
song? No, the old, old song, but Yan heard it with new ears. He was
learning to read its message. He wandered on their trailless track, as
often as he could, northward, ever northward, up the river from the
town, and up, seeking the loneliest ways and days. The river turned to
the east, but a small stream ran into it from the north: up that Yan went
through thickening woods and walls that neared each other, on and up
until the walls closed to a crack, then widened out into a little dale that
was still full of original forest trees. Hemlock, Pine, Birch and Elm of
the largest size abounded and spread over the clear brook a continuous
shade. Fox vines trailed in the open places, the rarest wild-flowers
flourished, Red-squirrels chattered from the trees. In the mud along the
brook-side were tracks of Coon and Mink and other strange fourfoots.
And in the trees overhead, the Veery, the Hermit-thrush, or even a
Woodthrush sang his sweetly solemn strain, in that golden twilight of
the midday forest. Yan did not know them all by name as yet, but he
felt their vague charm and mystery. It seemed such a far and lonely
place, so unspoiled by man, that Yan persuaded himself that surely he
was the first human being to stand there, that it was his by right of
discovery, and so he claimed it and named it after its
discoverer--Glenyan.
This place became the central thought in his life. He went there at all
opportunities, but never dared to tell any one of his discovery. He
longed for a confidant sometimes, he hankered to meet the stranger and
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, as the
Seagulls had brought Columbus to a new world--where he could lead,
for brief spells, the woodland life that was his ideal. He was tender
enough 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 suffer a
sort of hungry regret when old settlers told how plentiful the Deer used
to be. But now he had a relief from these sorrows, for surely there was

one place where the great trees should stand and grow as in the bright
bygone; where the Coon, the Mink and the Partridge should live 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 and Glenyan 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 the phrase
somewhere and he liked the sound of it. Possibly he would reveal it on
his deathbed.
Yes, that was the proper thing, and he pictured a harrowing scene of
weeping relatives around, himself as central figure, all ceasing their
wailing and gasping with wonder as he made known the mighty secret
of his life--delicious! it was almost worth dying for.
So