A Little Boy Lost

Chapter 14

THE WONDERS OF THE HILLS

Now, although Martin had gone very comfortably to sleep in her arms

and found it sweet to be watched over so tenderly, he was not the

happy little boy he had been before the sight of the distant ocean.

And she knew it, and was troubled in her mind, and anxious to do

something to make him forget that great blue water. She could do many

things, and above all she could show him new and wonderful things in

the hills where she wished to keep him always with her. To caress him,

to feed and watch over him by day, and hold him in her arms when he

slept at night--all that was less to him than the sight of something

new and strange; she knew this well, and therefore determined to

satisfy his desire and make his life so full that he would always be

more than contented with it.

In the morning he went out on the hillside, wandering listlessly

among the rocks, and when the big cat found him there and tried to

tempt him to a game he refused to play, for he had not yet got over

his disappointment, and could think of nothing but the sea. But the

cat did not know that anything was the matter with him, and was more

determined to play than ever; crouching now here, now there among

the stones and bushes, he would spring out upon Martin and pull him

down with its big paws, and this so enraged him that picking up a

stick he struck furiously at his tormentor. But the cat was too

quick for him; he dodged the blows, then knocked the stick out of

his hand, and finally Martin, to escape from him, crept into a

crevice in a rock where the cat could not reach him, and refused to

come out even when the Lady of the Hills came to look for him and

begged him to come to her. When at last, compelled by hunger, he

returned to her, he was silent and sullen and would not be caressed.

He saw no more of the cat, and when next day he asked her where it

was, she said that it had gone from them and would return no

more--that she had sent it away because it had vexed him. This made

Martin sulk, and he would have gone away and hidden himself from her

had she not caught him up in her arms. He struggled to free himself,

but could not, and she then carried him away a long distance down

the mountain-side until they came to a small dell, green with

creepers and bushes, with a deep carpet of dry moss on the ground,

and here she sat down and began to talk to him.

"The cat was a very beautiful beast with his spotted hide," she said;

"and you liked to play with him sometimes, but in a little while you

will be glad that he has gone from you."

He asked her why.

"Because though he was fond of you and liked to follow you about and

play with you, he is very fierce and powerful, and all the other

beasts are afraid of him. So long as he was with us they would not

come, but now he has gone they will come to you and let you go to

them."

"Where are they?" said Martin, his curiosity greatly excited.

"Let us wait here," she said, "and perhaps we shall see one by-and-by."

So they waited and were silent, and as nothing came and nothing

happened, Martin sitting on the mossy ground began to feel a strange

drowsiness stealing over him. He rubbed his eyes and looked round; he

wanted to keep very wide awake and alert, so as not to miss the

sight of anything that might come. He was vexed with himself for

feeling drowsy, and wondered why it was; then listening to the low

continuous hum of the bees, he concluded that it was that low, soft,

humming sound that made him sleepy. He began to look at the bees,

and saw that they were unlike other wild bees he knew, that they

were like humble-bees in shape but much smaller, and were all of a

golden brown colour: they were in scores and hundreds coming and

going, and had their home or nest in the rock a few feet above his

head. He got up, and climbing from his mother's knee to her shoulder,

and standing on it, he looked into the crevice into which the bees

were streaming, and saw their nest full of clusters of small round

objects that looked like white berries.

Then he came down and told her what he had seen, and wanted to know

all about it, and when she answered that the little round fruit-like

objects he had seen were cells full of purple honey that tasted sweet

and salt, he wanted her to get him some.

"Not now--not to-day," she replied, "for now you love me and are

contented to be with me, and you are my own darling child. When you

are naughty, and try to grieve me all you can, and would like to go

away and never see me more, you shall taste the purple honey."

He looked up into her face wondering and troubled at her words, and

she smiled down so sweetly on his upturned face, looking very

beautiful and tender, that it almost made him cry to think how

wilful and passionate he had been, and climbing on to her knees he

put his little face against her cheek.

Then, while he was still caressing her, light tripping steps were

heard over the stony path, and through the bushes came two beautiful

wild animals--a doe with her fawn! Martin had often seen the wild

deer on the plains, but always at a great distance and running; now

that he had them standing before him he could see just what they

were like, and of all the four-footed creatures he had ever looked

on they were undoubtedly the most lovely. They were of a slim shape,

and of a very bright reddish fawn-colour, the young one with dappled

sides; and both had large trumpet-like ears, which they held up as

if listening, while they gazed fixedly at Martin's face with their

large, dark, soft eyes. Enchanted with the sight of them, he slipped

down from his mother's lap, and stretched out his arms towards them,

and the doe, coming a little nearer, timidly smelt at his hand, then

licked it with her long, pink tongue.

In a few minutes the doe and fawn went away and they saw them no more;

but they left Martin with a heart filled with happy excitement; and

they were but the first of many strange and beautiful wild animals

he was now made acquainted with, so that for days he could think of

nothing else and wished for nothing better.

But one day when she had taken him a good way up on the hillside,

Martin suddenly recognized a huge rocky precipice before him as the

one up which she had taken him, and from the top of which he had

seen the great blue water. Instantly he demanded to be taken up again,

and when she refused he rebelled against her, and was first

passionate and then sullen. Finding that he would not listen to

anything she could say, she sat down on a rock and left him to

himself. He could not climb up that precipice, and so he rambled

away to some distance, thinking to hide himself from her, because he

thought her unreasonable and unkind not to allow him to see the blue

water once more. But presently he caught sight of a snake lying

motionless on a bed of moss at the foot of a rock, with the sun on it,

lighting up its polished scales so that they shone like gems or

coloured glass. Resting his elbows on the stone and holding his face

between his hands he fell to watching the snake, for though it

seemed fast asleep in the sun its gem-like eyes were wide open.

All at once he felt his mother's hand on his head: "Martin," she said,

"would you like to know what the snake feels when it lies with eyes

open in the bright hot sun? Shall I make you feel just how he feels?"

"Yes," said Martin eagerly, forgetting his quarrel with her; then

taking him up in her strong arms she walked rapidly away, and

brought him to that very spot where he had seen the doe and fawn.

She sat him down, and instantly his ears were filled with the murmur

of the bees; and in a moment she put her hand in the crevice and

pulled out a cluster of white cells, and gave them to Martin.

Breaking one of the cells he saw that it was full of thick honey, of

a violet colour, and tasting it he found it was like very sweet

honey in which a little salt had been mixed. He liked it and he

didn't like it; still, it was not the same in all the cells; in some

it was scarcely salt at all; and he began to suck the honey of cell

after cell, trying to find one that was not salt; and by and by he

dropped the cluster of cells from his hand, and stooping to pick it

up forgot to do so, and laying his head down and stretching himself

out on the mossy ground looked up into his mother's face with drowsy,

happy eyes. How sweet it seemed, lying there in the sun, with the sun

shining right into his eyes, and filling his whole being with its

delicious heat! He wished for nothing now--not even for the sight of

new wonderful things; he forgot the blue water, the strange,

beautiful wild animals, and his only thought, if he had a thought,

was that it was very nice to lie there, not sleeping, but feeling

the sun in him, and seeing it above him; and seeing all things--the

blue sky, the grey rocks and green bushes and moss, and the woman in

her green dress and her loose black hair--and hearing, too, the soft,

low, continuous murmur of the yellow bees.

For hours he lay there in that drowsy condition, his mother keeping

watch over him, and when it passed off, and he got up again, his

temper appeared changed: he was more gentle and affectionate with

his mother, and obeyed her every wish. And when in his rambles on

the hill he found a snake lying in the sun he would steal softly

near it and watch it steadily for a long time, half wishing to taste

that strange purple honey again, so that he might lie again in the

sun, feeling what the snake feels. But there were more wonderful

things yet for Martin to see and know in the hills, so that in a

little while he ceased to have that desire.