the blue flower-第16章

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watched　the　girl's　every　step；　helping　her　over　the　difficult
places；　pushing　aside　the　tangled　branches；　his　eyes　resting
upon　her　as　frankly；　as　tenderly　as　a　mother　looks　at　her
child。　　In　single　file　we　marched　through　the　gray　morning；
clearing　cold　after　the　storm；　and　the　silence　was　seldom
broken；　for　we　had　little　heart　to　talk。

At　last　we　came　to　the　high；　lonely　ridge；　the　dwarf
forest；　the　huge；　couchant　bulk　of　Spy　Rock。　　There；　on　the　back
of　it；　with　his　right　arm　hanging　over　the　edge；　was　the　outline
of　Edward　Keene's　form。　　It　was　as　if　some　monster　had　seized　him
and　flung　him　over　its　shoulder　to　carry　away。

We　called　to　him　but　there　was　no　answer。　　The　doctor
climbed　up　with　me；　and　we　hurried　to　the　spot　where　he　was
lying。　　His　face　was　turned　to　the　sky；　his　eyes　blindly
staring；　there　was　no　pulse；　no　breath；　he　was　already　cold　in
death。　　His　right　hand　and　arm；　the　side　of　his　neck　and　face
were　horribly　swollen　and　livid。　　The　doctor　stooped　down　and
examined　the　hand　carefully。　　〃See！〃　he　cried；　pointing　to　a
great　bruise　on　his　wrist；　with　two　tiny　punctures　in　the
middle　of　it　from　which　a　few　drops　of　blood　had　oozed；　〃a
rattlesnake　has　struck　him。　　He　must　have　fairly　put　his　hand
upon　it；　perhaps　in　the　dark；　when　he　was　climbing。　　And；
look；　what　is　this？〃

He　picked　up　a　flat　silver　box；　that　lay　open　on　the　rock。
There　were　two　olive…green　pellets　of　a　resinous　paste　in　it。
He　lifted　it　to　his　face；　and　drew　a　long　breath。

〃Yes；〃　he　said；　〃it　is　Gunjab；　the　most　powerful　form　of
Hashish；　the　narcotic　hemp　of　India。　　Poor　fellow；　it　saved
him　from　frightful　agony。　　He　died　in　a　dream。〃

〃You　are　right；〃　I　said；　〃in　a　dream；　and　for　a　dream。〃

We　covered　his　face　and　climbed　down　the　rock。　　Dorothy
and　Graham　were　waiting　below。　　He　had　put　his　coat　around
her。　　She　was　shivering　a　little。　　There　were　tear…marks　on
her　face。

〃Well；〃　I　said；　〃you　must　know　it。　　We　have　lost　him。〃

〃Ah！〃　said　the　girl；　〃I　lost　him　long　ago。〃



WOOD…MAGIC

There　are　three　vines　that　belong　to　the　ancient　forest。
Elsewhere　they　will　not　grow；　though　the　soil　prepared　for
them　be　never　so　rich；　the　shade　of　the　arbour　built　for　them
never　so　closely　and　cunningly　woven。　　Their　delicate；
thread…like　roots　take　no　hold　upon　the　earth　tilled　and
troubled　by　the　fingers　of　man。　　The　fine　sap　that　steals
through　their　long；　slender　limbs　pauses　and　fails　when　they
are　watered　by　human　hands。　　Silently　the　secret　of　their　life
retreats　and　shrinks　away　and　hides　itself。

But　in　the　woods；　where　falling　leaves　and　crumbling
tree…trunks　and　wilting　ferns　have　been　moulded　by　Nature　into
a　deep；　brown　humus；　clean　and　fragrantin　the　woods；　where
the　sunlight　filters　green　and　golden　through　interlacing
branches；　and　where　pure　moisture　of　distilling　rains　and
melting　snows　is　held　in　treasury　by　never…failing　banks　of
mossunder　the　verdurous　flood　of　the　forest；　like　sea…weeds
under　the　ocean　waves；　these　three　little　creeping　vines　put
forth　their　hands　with　joy；　and　spread　over　rock　and　hillock　and
twisted　tree…root　and　mouldering　log；　in　cloaks　and　scarves　and
wreaths　of　tiny　evergreen；　glossy　leaves。

One　of　them　is　adorned　with　white　pearls　sprinkled　lightly
over　its　robe　of　green。　　This　is　Snowberry；　and　if　you　eat　of
it；　you　will　grow　wise　in　the　wisdom　of　flowers。　　You　will
know　where　to　find　the　yellow　violet；　and　the　wake…robin；　and
the　pink　lady…slipper；　and　the　scarlet　sage；　and　the　fringed
gentian。　　You　will　understand　how　the　buds　trust　themselves　to
the　spring　in　their　unfolding；　and　how　the　blossoms　trust
themselves　to　the　winter　in　their　withering；　and　how　the　busy
bands　of　Nature　are　ever　weaving　the　beautiful　garment　of　life
out　of　the　strands　of　death；　and　nothing　is　lost　that　yields
itself　to　her　quiet　handling。

Another　of　the　vines　of　the　forest　is　called　Partridge…berry。
Rubies　are　hidden　among　its　foliage；　and　if　you　eat　of　this
fruit；　you　will　grow　wise　in　the　wisdom　of　birds。　You　will　know
where　the　oven…bird　secretes　her　nest；　and　where　the　wood…cock
dances　in　the　air　at　night；　the　drumming…log　of　the　ruffed　grouse
will　be　easy　to　find；　and　you　will　see　the　dark　lodges　of　the
evergreen　thickets　inhabited　by　hundreds　of　warblers。　　There　will
be　no　dead　silence　for　you　in　the　forest；　any　longer；　but　you
will　hear　sweet　and　delicate　voices　on　every　side；　voices　that
you　know　and　love；　you　will　catch　the　key…note　of　the　silver
flute　of　the　woodthrush；　and　the　silver　harp　of　the　veery；　and
the　silver　bells　of　the　hermit；　and　something　in　your　heart　will
answer　to　them　all。　　In　the　frosty　stillness　of　October　nights
you　will　see　the　airy　tribes　flitting　across　the　moon；　following
the　secret　call　that　guides　them　southward。　　In　the　calm
brightness　of　winter　sunshine；　filling　sheltered　copses　with
warmth　and　cheer；　you　will　watch　the　lingering　blue…birds　and
robins　and　song…sparrows　playing　at　summer；　while　the　chickadees
and　the　juncos　and　the　cross…bills　make　merry　in　the　windswept
fields。　　In　the　lucent　mornings　of　April　you　will　hear　your　old
friends　coming　home　to　you；　Phoebe；　and　Oriole；　and
Yellow…Throat；　and　Red…Wing；　and　Tanager；　and　Cat…Bird。　　When
they　call　to　you　and　greet　you；　you　will　understand　that　Nature
knows　a　secret　for　which　man　has　never　found　a　wordthe　secret
that　tells　itself　in　song。

The　third　of　the　forest…vines　is　Wood…Magic。　　It　bears　neither
flower　nor　fruit。　　Its　leaves　are　hardly　to　be　distinguished
from　the　leaves　of　the　other　vines。　　Perhaps　they　are　a　little
rounder　than　the　Snowberry's；　a　little　more　pointed　than　the
Partridge…berry's；　sometimes　you　might　mistake　them　for　the
one；　sometimes　for　the　other。　　No　marks　of　warning　have　been
written　upon　them。　　If　you　find　them　it　is　your　fortune；　if
you　taste　them　it　is　your　fate。

For　as　you　browse　your　way　through　the　forest；　nipping
here　and　there　a　rosy　leaf　of　young　winter…green；　a　fragrant
emerald　tip　of　balsam…fir；　a　twig　of　spicy　birch；　if　by　chance
you　pluck　the　leaves　of　Wood…Magic　and　eat　them；　you　will　not
know　what　you　have　done；　but　the　enchantment　of　the　tree…land
will　enter　your　heart　and　the　charm　of　the　wildwood　will　flow
through　your　veins。

You　will　never　get　away　from　it。　　The　sighing　of　the　wind
through　the　pine…trees　and　the　laughter　of　the　stream　in　its
rapids　will　sound　through　all　your　dreams。　　On　beds　of　silken
softness　you　will　long　for　the　sleep…song　of　whispering　leaves
above　your　head；　and　the　smell　of　a　couch　of　balsam…boughs。　　At
tables　spread　with　dainty　fare　you　will　be　hungry　for　the　joy　of
the　hunt；　and　for　the　angler's　sylvan　feast。　　In　proud　cities　you
will　weary　for　the　sight　of　a　mountain　trail；　in　great　cathedrals
you　will　think　of　the　long；　arching　aisles　of　the　woodland；　and
in　the　noisy　solitude　of　crowded　streets　you　will　hone　after　the
friendly　forest。

This　is　what　will　happen　to　you　if　you　eat　the　leaves　of
that　little　vine；　Wood…Magic。　　And　this　is　what　happened　to
Luke　Dubois。



I

The　Cabin　by　the　Rivers

Two　highways　meet　before　the　door；　and　a　third　reaches　away　to
the　southward；　broad　and　smooth　and　white。　　But　there　are　no
travellers　passing　by。　　The　snow　that　has　fallen　during　the
night　is　unbroken。　　The　pale　February　sunrise　makes　blue　shadows
on　it；　sharp　and　jagged；　an　outline　of　the　fir…trees　on　the
mountain…crest　quarter　of；　a　mile　away。

In　summer　the　highways　are　dissolved　into　three　wild
riversthe　River　of　Rocks；　which　issues　from　the　hills；　the
River　of　Meadows；　which　flows　from　the　great　lake；　and　the
River　of　the　Way　Out；　which　runs　down　from　their　meeting…place
to　the　settlements　and　the　little　world。　　But　in　winter；　when
the　ice　is　firm　under　the　snow；　and　the　going　is　fine；　there
are　no　tracks　upon　the　three　broad　roads　except　the　paths　of
the　caribou；　and　the　footprints　of　the　marten　and　the　mink　and
the　fox；　and　the　narrow　trails　made　by　Luke　Dubois　on　his　way
to　and　from　his　cabin　by　the　rivers。

He　leaned　in　the　door…way；　looking　out。　　Behind　him　in　the
shadow；　the　fire　was　still　snapping　in　the　little　stove　where
he　had　cooked　his　breakfast。　　There　was　a　comforting　smell　of
bacon　and