A Little Boy Lost

Chapter 8

THE FLOWER AND THE SERPENT

His escape from the horrible black animal made Martin quite happy,

in spite of hunger and fatigue, and he pushed on as bravely as ever.

But it was slow going and very difficult, even painful in places, on

account of the rough thorny undergrowth, where he had to push and

crawl through the close bushes, and tread on ground littered with old

dead prickly leaves and dead thorny twigs. After going on for about

an hour in this way, he came to a stream, a branch of the river he

had left, and much shallower, so that he could easily cross from

side to side, and he could also see the bright pebbles under the

clear swift current. The stream appeared to run from the east, the

way he wished to travel towards the hills, so that he could keep by

it, which he wras glad enough to do, as it was nice to get a drink

of water whenever he felt thirsty, and to refresh his tired and sore

little feet in the stream.

Following this water he came before very long to a place in the

forest where there was little or no underwood, but only low trees

and bushes scattered about, and all the ground moist and very green

and fresh like a water-meadow. It was indeed pleasant to feel his

feet on the soft carpet of grass, and stooping, he put his hands

down on it, and finally lying down he rolled on it so as to have the

nice sensation of the warm soft grass all over his body. So

agreeable was it lying and rolling about in that open green place

with the sweet sunshine on him, that he felt no inclination to get up

and travel on. It was so sweet to rest after all his strivings and

sufferings in that great dark forest! So sweet was it that he pretty

soon fell asleep, and no doubt slept a long time, for when he woke,

the sun, which had been over his head, was now far down in the west.

It was very still, and the air warm and fragrant at that hour, with

the sun shining through the higher branches of the trees on the

green turf where he was lying. How green it was--the grass, the trees,

every tiny blade and every leaf was like a piece of emerald green

glass with the sun shining through it! So wonderful did it seem to

him--the intense greenness, the brilliant sunbeams that shone into

his eyes, and seemed to fill him with brightness, and the stillness

of the forest, that he sat up and stared about him. What did it

mean--that brightness and stillness?

Then, at a little distance away, he caught sight of something on a

tree of a shining golden yellow colour. Jumping up he ran to the tree,

and found that it was half overgrown with a very beautiful climbing

plant, with leaves divided like the fingers of a hand, and large

flowers and fruit, both green and ripe. The ripe fruit was as big as

a duck's egg, and the same shape, and of a shining yellow colour.

Reaching up his hand he began to feel the smooth lovely fruit, when,

being very ripe, it came off its stem into his hand. It smelt very

nice, and then, in his hunger, he bit through the smooth rind with

his teeth, and it tasted as nice as it looked. He quickly ate it,

and then pulled another and ate that, and then another, and still

others, until he could eat no more. He had not had so delicious a

meal for many a long day.

Not until he had eaten his fill did Martin begin to look closely at

the flowers on the plant. It was the passion-flower, and he had

never seen it before, and now that he looked well at it he thought

it the loveliest and strangest flower he had ever beheld; not

brilliant and shining, jewel-like, in the sun, like the scarlet

verbena of the plains, or some yellow flower, but pale and misty,

the petals being of a dim greenish cream-colour, with a large blue

circle in the centre; and the blue, too, was misty like the blue

haze in the distance on a summer day. To see and admire it better he

reached out his hand and tried to pluck one of the flowers; then in

an instant he dropped his hand, as if he had been pricked by a thorn.

But there was no thorn and nothing to hurt him; he dropped his hand

only because he felt that he had hurt the flower. Moving a step back

he stared at it, and the flower seemed like a thing alive that

looked back at him, and asked him why he had hurt it.

"O, poor flower!" said Martin, and, coming closer he touched it

gently with his finger-tips; and then, standing on tiptoe, he

touched its petals with his lips, just as his mother had often and

often kissed his little hand when he had bruised it or pricked it

with a thorn.

Then, while still standing by the plant, on bringing his eyes down

to the ground he spied a great snake lying coiled up on a bed of

moss on the sunny side of the same tree where the plant was growing.

He remembered the dear little snake he had once made a friend of,

and he did not feel afraid, for he thought that all snakes must be

friendly towards him, although this was a very big one, thicker than

his arm and of a different colour. It was a pale olive-green, like

the half-dry moss it was lying on, with a pattern of black and brown

mottling along its back. It was lying coiled round and round, with

its flat arrow-shaped head resting on its coils, and its round

bright eyes fixed on Martin's face. The sun shining on its eyes made

them glint like polished jewels or pieces of glass, and when Martin

moved nearer and stood still, or when he drew back and went to this

side or that, those brilliant glinting eyes were still on his face,

and it began to trouble him, until at last he covered his face with

his hands. Then he opened his fingers enough to peep through them,

and still those glittering eyes were fixed on him.

Martin wondered if the snake was vexed with him for coming there,

and why it watched him so steadily with those shining eyes.

"Will you please look some other way?" he said at last, but the

snake would not, and so he turned from it, and then it seemed to him

that everything was alive and watching him in the same intent

way--the passion-flowers, the green leaves, the grass, the trees,

the wide sky, the great shining sun. He listened, and there was no

sound in the wood, not even the hum of a fly or wild bee, and it was

so still that not a leaf moved. Finally he moved away from that spot,

but treading very softly, and holding his breath to listen, for it

seemed to him that the forest had something to tell him, and that if

he listened he would hear the leaves speaking to him. And by-and-by

he did hear a sound: it came from a spot about a hundred yards away,

and was like the sound of a person crying. Then came low sobs which

rose and fell and then ceased, and after a silent interval began

again. Perhaps it was a child, lost there in the forest like himself.

Going softly to the spot he discovered that the sobbing sounds came

from the other side of a low tree with widespread branches, a kind

of acacia with thin loose foliage, but he could not see through it,

and so he went round the tree to look, and startled a dove which flew

off with a loud clatter of its wings.

When the dove had flown away it was again very silent. What was he

to do? He was too tired now to walk much farther, and the sun was

getting low, so that all the ground was in shadow. He went on a

little way looking for some nice shelter where he could pass the

night, but could not find one. At length, when the sun had set and

the dark was coming, he came upon an old half-dead tree, where there

was a hollow at the roots, lined with half dry moss, very soft to

his foot, and it seemed a nice place to sleep in. But he had no

choice, for he was afraid of going further in the dark among the

trees; and so, creeping into the hollow among the old roots, he

curled himself up as comfortably as he could, and soon began to get

very drowsy, in spite of having no covering to keep him warm. But

although very tired and sleepy, he did not go quite to sleep, for he

had never been all alone in a wood by night before, and it was

different from the open plain where he could see all round, even at

night, and where he had feared nothing. Here the trees looked strange

and made strange black shadows, and he thought that the strange

people of the wood were perhaps now roaming about and would find him

there. He did not want them to find him fast asleep; it was better

to be awake, so that when they came he could jump up and run away

and hide himself from them. Once or twice a slight rustling sound

made him start and think that at last some one was coming to him,

stealing softly so as to catch him unawares, but he could see

nothing moving, and when he held his breath to listen there was no

sound.

Then all at once, just when he had almost dropped off, a great cry

sounded at a distance, and made him start up wide awake again.

"O look! look! look!" cried the voice in a tone so deep and strange

and powerful that no one could have heard it without terror, for it

seemed to be uttered by some forest monster twenty times bigger than

an ordinary man. In a moment an answer came from another part of the

wood. "What's that?" cried the answering voice; and then another

voice cried, and then others far and near, all shouting "What's that?"

and for only answer the first voice shouted once more, "O look! look!

look!"

Poor Martin, trembling with fright, crouched lower down in his mossy

bed, thinking that the awful people of the forest must have seen him,

and would be upon him in a few moments. But though he stared with

wide-open eyes into the gloom he could see nothing but the trees,

standing silent and motionless, and no sound of approaching

footsteps could he hear.

After that it was silent again for a while, and he began to hope

that they had given up looking for him; when suddenly, close by,

sounded a loud startling "Who's that?" and he gave himself up for

lost. For he was too terrified to jump up and run away, as he had

thought to do: he could only lie still, his teeth chattering, his

hair standing up on his head. "Who's that?" exclaimed the terrible

voice once more, and then he saw a big black shape drop down from

the tree above and settle on a dead branch a few feet above his

hiding-place. It was a bird--a great owl, for now he could see it,

sharply outlined against the clear starry sky; and the bird had seen

and was peering curiously at him. And now all his fear was gone, for

he could not be afraid of an owl; he had been accustomed to see owls

all his life, only they were small, and this owl of the forest was

as big as an eagle, and had a round head and ears like a cat, and

great cat-like eyes that shone in the dark.

The owl kept staring at Martin for some time, swaying his body this

way and that, and lowering then raising his head so as to get a

better view. And Martin, on his side, stared back at the owl, and at

last he exclaimed, "O what a great big owl you are! Please say

_Who's that_? again."

But before the owl said anything Martin was fast asleep in his mossy

bed.