FOOTNOTES:
CHAPTER XXV.
BLYTHE'S FLUTE.
Despite their position the wrecked Brownies were in good spirits. The restoration of Pipe had taken a load off their hearts. The reaction was so great, after their grief and the certainty of his loss, that low spirits vanished from the camp. The boatswain's resurrection seemed an omen of good fortune. The cheer that filled all hearts bubbled over in song, laughter, merry tale and joke. But as the Brownies feared to attract the attention of the Doubt's crew who were yet on the island, they kept the sound of their merrymaking within bounds of their picket lines.
Blythe added much to the enjoyment of the occasion. By some rare chance, as he was setting out for the fleet in the morning, he had flung over his shoulder his flute box, which he often carried in a little case something after the manner of a field glass. It had clung to him when the Ken's boat went down, and there was the flute, ready to swell the joy of the bivouac. Blythe was quite in the spirit to play, and all hearts were in tune to listen.
Again and again the notes of the sweet instrument murmured among the overhanging branches. Camp tunes, battle tunes, love tunes, home tunes—the hearts of the Brownies were stirred by turns with tender, pathetic, sad or fond emotions as the well known strains fell upon their ears.
"Come, lads," cried Pipe, "cannot we have a song?"
"Aye, aye, a song, a song!" was called from all sides.
"What shall it be?" asked Blythe. "I will gladly accompany Captain Clearview here, who is an excellent singer. Captain, what say you? Shall we have 'Woodmen, Boatmen, Sailors and Horsemen?' The lads like that and can join in the chorus."
"Play away!" said Clearview, and at the proper note he struck in and sang the following song, in the refrain of which all the company joined:
THE BROWNIES' NATIONAL SONG.
O MERRY AND FREE!
OR
WOODMEN, BOATMEN, SAILORS AND HORSEMEN.
I.
O merry and free,
'Neath the wildwood tree,
Are the Woodmen of Brownieland, bonnie and dee;
Too—ra—lah, too—ra—loo, too—ra—lay!
In the breeze there is balm,
In the sky there is calm,
Each sound in the wood is the voice of a psalm;
Too—ra—lah, too—ra—loo, too—ra—lay!
II.
O merry and free,
On the lake and lea,
Are the Boatmen of Brownieland, bonnie and dee;
Too—ra—lah, too—ra—loo, too—ra—lay!
For the trout's rushing leap,
And the water-fowl's sweep,
With the paddle's soft dip sweet harmony keep;
Too—ra—lah, too—ra—loo, too—ra—lay!
III.
O merry and free,
On the wrinkled sea,
Are the sailors of Brownieland, bonnie and dee;
Too—ra—lah, too—ra—loo, too—ra—lay!
For the creaking of sail,
And the sough of the gale,
And splashing of waves, are the songs that ne'er fail;
Too—ra—lah, too—ra—loo, too—ra—lay!
IV.
O merry and free,
Over hill and lea,
Are the troopers of Brownieland, bonnie and dee;
Too—ra—lah, too—ra—loo, too—ra—lay!
It is pleasure indeed,
To be one with the steed
In his strength, and thrill with the rhythm of speed;
Too—ra—lah, too—ra—loo, too—ra—lay!
"Hist—st!"
The sharp prolonged sibilant that broke in upon their applause and caused instant silence, was uttered by Sergeant True. He advanced into the circle with his hand raised warningly.
"Hist! Quiet all!—except you, Blythe. Keep on with your music. Play some of your softest airs, and play until I bid you stop. As for the rest of you, I charge you, for your lives, not to speak or move until you hear from me. No matter what you see—perfect silence, remember!"
He stepped back again into the bushes and was hidden from sight. What could the strange interruption mean? The Brownies were all alive with keen curiosity. Was the Sergeant in a merry humor, and planning some trick upon the party? They suspected that. But it was not much after True's habit to do such a thing. Besides, his manner betokened unusual earnestness. Therefore, all sat still, looking into the bushes whither True had disappeared. The Adjutant promptly fell into his friend's plan. He obeyed orders, played away and waited.
"Hist! look up! But don't stop the music, and don't stir!" said True in a low voice.
All eyes turned upward. A faint rustling among the branches directed the party's gaze to the point of interest. A quaint old hag of a Pixie was slowly crawling along the twig above Blythe's head. It was our acquaintance, Dame Tigrina!
The Boy's Illustration.
Fig. 108.—Blythe's Flute Charms Tigrina.
Blythe's heart fluttered a little, it must be confessed. It really seemed that the grim creature was preparing to pounce upon him. See! she is just above the musician's head. She has fastened a cable to the branch and is slowly lowering herself toward the ground. There was a slight quaver in the notes of the flute that could not be credited wholly to the performer's intention. Yet, he behaved with wonderful coolness and courage. The music went on; not a false note, not a pause, while the Pixie was gradually lowering herself toward the ground.
When about one-third of the descent had been made, Tigrina paused and sat quite still. She was listening to the music, not foraging for victims! Blythe's flute had charmed her forth from her cell. There she hung in mid air indulging her fondness for sweet sounds. Who would have thought it of the old hag? However, it would perhaps be well to mention that it has frequently been reported that some Pixies are strangely sensitive to music.[AX]
True's conduct was now explained. He had caught a glimpse of the Pixinee when she first left her hall, but had not been able to mark the spot from which she came. When the singing stopped and the applause began, Tigrina retreated so rapidly and stealthily that the Sergeant again failed to note the door of her cave, but saw the general direction and neighborhood thereof. He thought that if Blythe would repeat the music it would charm the old creature forth once more, and so it proved.
From his blind in the bushes he saw the cave door slowly open, and marked the spot. He saw the Pixinee peep here and there, then, satisfied that the coast was clear, return to her place above the musician, where she hung and listened as before.
True had gained his point. He did not indeed understand how near he was to his heart's great desire. But he had thought it probable that Faith and Sophia might be hidden on the island in some of the Pixie dens, and at once resolved to follow up this fortunate incident in hope that it might give a clew to a more important discovery. He quietly left his hiding place, planted himself before the spot whence Tigrina had come, and drew his battle axe.
"Hist!" The sound directed the Brownies' attention toward him. "Close in around me when I call. Don't move before that. Now, Blythe,—stop!"
The music ceased. No one stirred for a moment or two; then Tigrina, as though persuaded that the performance had ended, scampered up the cable from which she hung, and hurried off toward her cave.
"Close up!" ordered True.
The company rushed forward and surrounded the Sergeant, who now stood with axe poised, face to face with the Pixinee. Tigrina was in the act of springing upon True. Her claws were outstretched, her eyes were ablaze with excitement, and in the greatness of her wrath her fangs clattered against each other.
As the Brownies closed the circle about her, she started, and cast a quick, terrified glance around her. Then her whole visage changed; the arms fell to her side; her face dropped upon her chest; her limbs relaxed; the eyes became glassy and fixed; she suddenly sank to the ground and lay rigid and motionless.
True lowered his axe. An exclamation of surprise broke from the group.
"Is she dead?" asked several at once.
Pipe stepped to Tigrina's side and cautiously turned her body with his foot.
"'Pon my honor," he said, "I do believe the old witch has burst a blood-vessel, or had an attack of apoplexy. She's dead as a mackerel."
"It does seem so, indeed," remarked True, who had also examined the body. "There is every sign of death, beyond doubt. For my part I don't wonder, for I never saw such a swift and terrible change in any living creature as came over this one."
"Come," said Clearview, "let me try an experiment. I know something more of the tricks of these Pixies than you. They can beat the 'possums at feigning death. Now, I venture that Madame here is as alive and awake as any of you. Stand back a little. We shall see. Bring me a cord."
A stout cord was brought by one of the sailors. Clearview approached cautiously, and looped the rope around all the Pixinee's limbs except one arm. During all this there was no sign of life.
"Hand me your axe, Sergeant." The weapon was passed to him. "Observe now," continued Clearview, "that I intend to strike just where that claw lies. If the creature is dead it will not hurt her to have it chopped off."
Fig. 109.—Attitudes of Spiders when Feigning Death.
He lifted the axe deliberately, and struck directly at the unbound arm which was stretched out motionless upon the grass. The blade sank into the ground! The claw had been removed by a quick motion as the axe fell.
"Phew——ew!" said Pipe, drawing a long breath. "Talk about wonders of the stage! That acting beats Charlotte Cushman all hollow."[AY]
A burst of merriment broke from the circle of astonished and amused Brownies, in the midst of which Tigrina slowly raised her body from the ground, and sat up looking around upon her captors, quite crestfallen.
"Well," she said at last, "now you have me, what'll you do with me?"
The Brownie officers held a brief, whispered consultation. Then the boatswain addressed Tigrina.
"Old woman, we shall exchange few words with you. You know well that your life in ordinary circumstances wouldn't be worth a salt herring. But you've just one chance for it. I have lost a daughter. She was carried off with one of her companions by some of your people. We have found no trace of the maidens yet. If you can tell anything that shall lead to their discovery, your life shall be spared. If not, you die instantly."
Tigrina sat with eyes fixed upon the ground. Her face had a stubborn cast that showed indifference to life, or determination to yield nothing for the sake of saving it. She remained silent.
"Well," continued the boatswain, "have you nothing to say? Do you know anything? Speak out. You shall find us true to our word, as Brownies always are."
"For Heaven's sake," cried Blythe impatiently, "if you can put us on the track of our lost friends, do so! You shall not only have your life, but whatever besides—"
"Hah! What interest have you in the silly things?" asked Tigrina looking up quickly. Her whole manner had changed at the first sound of his voice. Her eyes dropped slowly from the Adjutant's face to the flute which he still held in his hands, and there remained fixed.
"I have a deep and tender interest in one of them," exclaimed Blythe. "And I pledge you my word, with the boatswain, to stand between you and death if you will tell us where we can find Faith and Sophia."
There was a moment's silence, so profound that one might almost have heard his neighbor's heart beat as the Brownies awaited the Pixinee's answer. The fate of their beloved Nurses seemed to hang upon her lips. Tigrina at last broke the silence:
"You will give me my life?" she said.
"Yes!" cried a score of eager voices.
"And set me free?"
"Aye, aye!" was the hearty chorus.
"And give me—that?" continued Tigrina, pointing her hairy claw toward the flute in Blythe's hand.
"It is yours!" cried the Adjutant, flinging the instrument into the Pixinee's lap.
Tigrina clutched it eagerly, turned it over and over, as a child would a new toy, looked into it, touched the keys, put it to her ears and listened, then laid it down upon her lap and gazed at it with childish fondness. All this time the Brownies looked on impatiently, but not inclined to interfere.
"Hah!" exclaimed Tigrina, "and will it sing for me, too? Pretty bird! Sing, sing!" she said as she fondled the flute tenderly.
"Come, come, old lady," cried Pipe at last. "Be done with this nonsense! Remember that neither life, freedom, nor the flute are yours until you keep your part of the bargain. So hurry up."
Tigrina looked up again with the old fierce, sullen face. "Ugh! To be sure. Well, gentlemen, I have sworn not to tell any one where the fairies are. But that big officer yonder—," she cast a savage glance at True, "knows where I live, I reckon. There's nothing to hinder you from following up what you have already found out yourselves, is there?"
A cry of joy arose from the party at these words. The hint was taken at once. What news! Faith and Sophia were found at last! Hurrah!
Pipe turned eagerly upon Sergeant True.
"The door, the door!" he cried, "where is the door of the old hag's cave?"
Blythe sprang forward, grasped Tigrina by the arm until she fairly winced under the pressure, and exclaimed, "are they alive?—are they safe? Speak!"
"Both!" was the answer.
The cool, clear voice of Captain Clearview broke in upon the excitement. "Come, my friends, this is not wise. You are giving way to hopes that may be dashed from you. What have you to rely upon for them all? The word of an old Pixinee condemned to death. I think she has spoken truly. But let us make sure before we show our joy. First of all, take that flute from her and bind her arms securely. We will take her with us into the cave. If she has not deceived us we will be true to her. If this is all mockery and deceit—" There was no need to finish the sentence.
By this time Pipe, True and Blythe had the mossy door of the cave pushed open. They entered the silk lined vestibule, and saw the tunnel sloping away into the hill until lost in the darkness.
"A ladder and lanterns!" cried Pipe. "Haste—away!"
"Aye, aye, Sir!" answered a half dozen hearty voices. The sailors flew to the boat, and soon returned with a rope ladder and several fox-fire lanterns.
"Are we all ready?" asked True.
"Ready!"
"Come on then! and God speed the search!"
He stepped into the mouth of the cave bearing aloft one of the lights. Pipe and Blythe followed. Then came Clearview and Help leading Dame Tigrina. Several sailors brought up the rear of the party. The remainder of the crew kept guard at the entrance.
"Hark!" The word fell from the lips of both the imprisoned Nurses at once. There was a sound as of the wind blowing through the long tunneled hall that led into their room. It came nearer. It grew louder. The maidens stood still straining every nerve to resolve the meaning of the strange noises. There could be no doubt, at last, that it was the sound of approaching footsteps, mingled with voices.
"O Sophie, it is Spite the Spy!"
"O Faith, the Pixie chiefs have returned!"
With a cry of anguish they threw themselves into each other's arms. In this movement the stand bearing the "Book of the Wisdom of the Pixies" was overturned, and with a great racket fell to the floor. The large volume opened its folios as it fell, and lay spread out upon its face under the stand.
The scream of the Nurses and the crash of the stand were answered by a cry from without. The curtain door of the chamber was rent aside, and Sergeant True bearing aloft his fox-fire torch entered. Ere he could utter a word the boatswain darted past him. Sophia had sprung forward at the first vision of her lover, and found herself clasped in her father's arms! Faith had fallen upon her knees. The drapery of her gown streamed backward partially covering the gilt and silken bindings of the Pixies' Book of Unbelief. The hands of the kneeling Nurse, just as they were outstretched toward Heaven, were clasped in the fervent grasp of Adjutant Blythe, who in a moment was kneeling at Faith's side.
It was a striking and tender scene—the kneeling figures of Blythe and Faith; Sophia fast locked in her father's embrace; True standing nearby, the central figure of the group, holding his torch aloft, gazing upon his betrothed with joy and fondness shining through the tears upon his cheek. Crowded in the door and just within the room, were the other members of the searching party, in the midst of whom stood Tigrina casting alternate looks of anger upon the Brownies, and desire upon the flute which had fallen from Blythe's hand and rolled quite near her.
Why should we dwell upon what followed? The mutual greetings, the quick exchange of experiences, the outbreak of emotion, joy, gratitude, love—these are better left to the reader's imagination. One may be certain, however, that the party did not long stay inside the Pixie's cave. To be sure, it was a snug place, and would have been quite safe, and no doubt more comfortable to the Nurses than the rude accommodations of the Brownie bivouac outside. But the very sight of Aranea Hall, even with all its beautiful furnishings, was hateful to them. They insisted upon going away from the place with all haste.
"It is a prison, a miserable prison, however much it may be decked like a palace," exclaimed Faith. "Let us out of it, immediately!"
"Aye," said Sophia, "with all its silken tapestry, carpets, and couches it is a den of Pixies, a loathsome, dismal dungeon. Take us out of it, take us quickly!"
The happy company returned along the tunnel, and mounted to upper air. A second greeting awaited the rescued fairies from the party that guarded the entrance. The boisterous joy of the Brownie sailors could hardly be restrained. But an urgent warning of the danger that might be called down upon their newly found loved ones, by discovering their presence to the Doubters on the island, kept the outbreaking happiness within bounds.
The Brownies were true to Tigrina and left her safe within the cave in possession of the coveted flute. But they fastened the cavern door and mounted a guard over it. Then a shelter was provided for the Nurses. As willing hands and happy hearts make light work, the night was not far gone ere a tent of leaves was built. Tired out with excitement Faith and Sophia were quite ready to retire when all was prepared for them. How happy, happy, happy they were as they lay down to sleep in each other's arms! Their joy rippled over their lips in whispered congratulations and thanks, and bubbled forth in grateful tears. Then soft deep sleep, the sleep of the good and happy stole gently upon them.
It was long before the Brownie sailors settled to sleep. Weary as they were, the wish to hear the story of the capture and imprisonment of the Nurses, was stronger than the need of rest. Thus, Pipe, True, and Blythe, to whom the particulars had been told, had to tell them over and over again. At length all were satisfied; the sentinels were stationed, the reliefs appointed, and sleep fell upon the little camp.