When the birds fly south

by Stanton A. Coblentz

Dismayed and incredulous, I repeated my call, using my hands as a megaphone. This time it seemed to me that she halted momentarily; but she did not look back; and her pause could not have filled the space between two heart beats. In amazement, I observed her almost racing toward the woods!

But if she could run, so could I! With rising anger, yet scarcely crediting the report of my eyes, I started across the fields at a sprint. In a moment I should overtake Yasma—and then what excuse would she have to offer?

But ill fortune was still with me. In my heedless haste I stumbled over a large stone; and when, bruised and confused, I arose to my feet with an oath, it was to behold a slender form disappearing beyond the shadowy forest margin.

Although sure that I had again lost track of her, I continued the pursuit in a sort of dogged rage. There was but one narrow trail amid the densely matted undergrowth; and along this trail I dashed, encouraged by the sight of small fresh-made footprints amid the damp earth. But the maker of those footprints must have been in a great hurry, for although I pressed on until my breath came hard and my forehead was moist with perspiration, I could catch no glimpse of her, nor even hear any stirring or rustling ahead.

At length I had lost all trace of her. The minute footprints came to an end, as though their creator had vanished bird-like; and I stood in bewilderment in the mournful twilight of the forest, gazing up at the lugubrious green of pine and juniper and at the long twisted branches of oak and ash and wild peach, red-flecked and yellow and already half leafless.

How long I remained standing there I do not know. It was useless to go on, equally useless to retrace my footsteps. The minutes went by, and nothing happened. A bird chirped and twittered from some unseen twig above; a squirrel came rustling toward me, and with big frightened eyes hopped to the further side of a tree-trunk; now and then an insect buzzed past, with a dismal drone that seemed the epitome of all woe. But that was all—and of Yasma there was still no sign.

Then, when I thought of her and remembered her loveliness, and how she had been my playmate and comrade, I was overcome with the sorrow of losing her, and a teardrop dampened my cheek, and I heaved a long-drawn sigh.

And as if in response to that sigh, the bushes began to shake and quiver. And a sob broke the stillness of the forest, and I was as if transfixed by the sound of a familiar voice.

And out of the tangle of weeds and shrubs a slender figure arose, with shoulders heaving spasmodically; and with a cry I started forward and received into my arms the shuddering, speechless, clinging form of Yasma.

It was minutes before either of us could talk. Meanwhile I held the weeping girl closely to me, soothing her as I might have done a child. So natural did this seem that I quite forgot the strangeness of the situation. My mind was filled with sympathy, sympathy for her distress, and wonder at her odd ways; and I had no desire except to comfort her.