The six friends sat silently listening for strains of music. In the stillness of the forest they heard nothing but the songs of the birds, broken occasionally by the caw of a crow or the tapping of a woodpecker. But it was good to stop chattering for a while in this peaceful place, and Billie, lying on her back looking up into the interlacing branches of the trees, smiled happily.
How could she have been out of humor when just at their very doorstep lay the most wonderful enchanted forest? It would not be easy to recall silly domestic troubles in the midst of all this beauty.
“Curious. I was certain I heard the sound of some instrument like a mandolin or a zither,” said Elinor. “It was just one strain, almost as if the wind had blown over an aeolian harp.”
“It was fairy music,” put in Mary.
“Like enough,” said Ben; “and we had better be moving on,” he added, rising and leading the way. “The fairies don’t like human ears to hear their music and they might be playing tricks on us. Then we’d be in the deuce of a fix out in the wilderness.”
“They don’t mind at all,” said Mary. “You’re entirely mistaken, Ben. You are thinking of elves. The fairies are kind little people who never harm anyone.”
They had been walking for some time when they heard cries behind them.
“Help! Help!” screamed the voice of Nancy from around a curve in the trail.
“What did I tell you,” said Ben, running back with the others to see what had happened, and then bursting into a perfect roar of laughter.
There was Percy in the act of killing a long black snake, which was curled up with head thrust out in an attitude of defence, and there was Nancy, who had evidently started to run and, missing the trail, had rushed into a tall clump of bramble bushes. The brambles had wrapped themselves about her like the tentacles of an octopus, and the jaunty feather was caught in an overhanging branch.