A Little Boy Lost

Chapter 7

ALONE IN THE GREAT FOREST

Imagine to yourself one accustomed to live in the great treeless

plain, accustomed to open his eyes each morning to the wide blue sky

and the brilliant sunlight, now for the first time opening them in

that vast gloomy forest, where neither wind nor sunlight came, and

no sound was heard, and twilight lasted all day long! All round him

were trees with straight, tall grey trunks, and behind and beyond

them yet other trees--trees everywhere that stood motionless like

pillars of stone supporting the dim green roof of foliage far above.

It was like a vast gloomy prison in which he had been shut, and he

longed to make his escape to where he could see the rising sun and

feel the fanning wind on his cheeks. He looked round at the others:

they were all stretched on the ground still in a deep sleep, and it

frightened him a little to look at their great, broad, dark faces

framed in masses of black hair. He felt that he hated them, for they

had treated him badly: the children had taken his clothes, compelling

him to go naked, and had beaten and bruised him, and he had not been

pitied and helped by their elders. By and by, very quietly and

cautiously he crept away from among them, and made his escape into

the gloomy wood. On one side the forest shadows looked less dark

than the other, and on that side he went, for it was the side on

which the sun rose, and the direction he had been travelling when he

first met with the savages. On and on he went, over the thick bed of

dark decaying leaves, which made no rustling sound, looking like a

little white ghost of a boy in that great gloomy wood. But he came

to no open place, nor did he find anything to eat when hunger

pressed him; for there were no sweet roots and berries there, nor any

plant that he had ever seen before. It was all strange and gloomy,

and very silent. Not a leaf trembled; for if one had trembled near

him he would have heard it whisper in that profound stillness that

made him hold his breath to listen. But sometimes at long intervals

the silence would be broken by a sound that made him start and stand

still and wonder what had caused it. For the rare sounds in the

forest were unlike any sounds he had heard before. Three or four

times during the day a burst of loud, hollow, confused laughter

sounded high up among the trees; but he saw nothing, although most

likely the creature that had laughed saw him plainly enough from its

hiding-place in the deep shadows as it ran up the trunks of the trees.

At length he came to a river about thirty or forty yards wide;

and this was the same river that he had bathed in many leagues

further down in the open valley. It is called by the savages

Co-viota-co-chamanga, which means that it runs partly in the dark

and partly in the light. Here it was in the dark. The trees grew

thick and tall on its banks, and their wide branches met and

intermingled above its waters that flowed on without a ripple, black

to the eye as a river of ink. How strange it seemed when, holding on

to a twig, he bent over and saw himself reflected--a white, naked

child with a scared face--in that black mirror! Overcome by thirst,

he ventured to creep down and dip his hand in the stream, and was

astonished to see that the black water looked as clear as crystal in

his hollow hand. After quenching his thirst he went on, following

the river now, for it had made him turn aside; but after walking for

an hour or more he came to a great tree that had fallen across the

stream, and climbing on to the slippery trunk, he crept cautiously

over and then went gladly on in the old direction.

Now, after he had crossed the river and walked a long distance, he

came to a more open part; but though it was nice to feel the

sunshine on him again, the underwood and grass and creepers trailing

over the ground made it difficult and tiring to walk, and in this

place a curious thing happened. Picking his way through the tangled

herbage, an animal his footsteps had startled scuttled away in great

fear, and as it went he caught a glimpse of it. It was a kind of

weasel, but very large--larger than a big tom-cat, and all over as

black as the blackest cat. Looking down he discovered that this

strange animal had been feasting on eggs. The eggs were nearly as

large as fowls', of a deep green colour, with polished shells. There

had been about a dozen in the nest, which was only a small hollow in

the ground lined with dry grass, but most of them had been broken,

and the contents devoured by the weasel. Only two remained entire,

and these he took, and tempted by his hunger, soon broke the shells

at the small end and sucked them clean. They were raw, but never had

eggs, boiled, fried, or poached, tasted so nice before! He had

just finished his meal, and was wishing that a third egg had remained

in the ruined nest, when a slight sound like the buzzing of an insect

made him look round, and there, within a few feet of him, was the big

black weasel once more, looking strangely bold and savage-tempered.

It kept staring fixedly at Martin out of its small, wicked, beady

black eyes, and snarling so as to show its white sharp teeth;

and very white they looked by contrast with the black lips, and

nose, and hair. Martin stared back at it, but it kept moving and

coming nearer, now sitting straight up, then dropping its fore-feet

and gathering its legs in a bunch as if about to spring, and finally

stretching itself straight out towards him again, its round flat

head and long smooth body making it look like a great black snake

crawling towards him. And all the time it kept on snarling and

clicking its sharp teeth and uttering its low, buzzing growl. Martin

grew more and more afraid, it looked so strong and angry, so

unspeakably fierce. The creature looked as if he was speaking to

Martin, saying something very easy to understand, and very dreadful

to hear. This is what it seemed to be saying:--

"Ha, you came on me unawares, and startled me away from the nest I

found! You have eaten the last two eggs; and I found them, and they

were mine! Must I go hungry for you--starveling, robber! A miserable

little boy alone and lost in the forest, naked, all scratched and

bleeding with thorns, with no courage in his heart, no strength in

his hands! Look at me! I am not weak, but strong and black and fierce;

I live here--this is my home; I fear nothing; I am like a serpent,

and like brass and tempered steel--nothing can bruise or break me:

my teeth are like fine daggers; when I strike them into the flesh of

any creature I never loose my hold till I have sucked out all the

blood in his heart. But you, weak little wretch, I hate you! I

thirst for your blood for stealing my food from me! What can you do

to save yourself? Down, down on the ground, chicken-heart, where I

can get hold of you! You shall pay me for the eggs with your life! I

shall hold you fast by the throat, and drink and drink until I see

your glassy eyes close, and your cheeks turn whiter than ashes, and

I feel your heart flutter like a leaf in your bosom! Down, down!"

It was terrible to watch him and seem to hear such words. He was

nearer now--scarcely a yard away, still with his beady glaring eyes

fixed on Martin's face: and Martin was powerless to fly from

him--powerless even to stir a step or to lift a hand. His heart

jumped so that it choked him, his hair stood up on his head, and he

trembled so that he was ready to fall. And at last, when about to

fall to the ground, in the extremity of his terror, he uttered a

great scream of despair; and the sudden scream so startled the weasel,

that he jumped up and scuttled away as fast as he could through the

creepers and bushes, making a great rustling over the dead leaves

and twigs; and Martin, recovering his strength, listened to that

retreating sound as it passed away into the deep shadows, until it

ceased altogether.