FREE BOOKS

Author's List




PREV.   NEXT  
|<   99   100   101   102   103   104   105   106   107   108   109   110   111   112   113   114   115   116   117   118   119   120   121   122   123  
124   125   126   127   128   129   130   131   132   133   134   135   136   137   138   139   140   141   142   143   144   145   146   147   148   >>   >|  
and I had no wish to spy. But when I went to her there was no letter in sight. I did not stop to talk, but I wrapped her in the cloak that Onanguisse had given her, and wound her still further with blankets. "You will be cool enough in a few minutes," I assured her, and I made a nest for her in a thicket of young pines. She obeyed me dumbly, but with a certain gentleness, a sort of submission. As she gazed up at me with her brown face and inscrutable eyes, my hands were not quite steady. Heretofore I had felt her power; now I felt only her inexperience, her dependence. Child, woman, sphinx! What should I do with her? I turned away. The rain was upon us in earnest. I looked for my crew. The men were curled under trees, but Singing Arrow had used more craft. She had hidden herself under her light canoe,--which she had first secured with pegs that it might not blow away,--and she lay as compact and comfortable as a tree-housed grub. I lifted the corner of the canoe and peered at her, whereat she giggled happily, serene in the thought that I was wet while she was dry. She was as restful to the brain as a frolicking puppy, and I shook my head at her to hear her giggle again. I was about to wonder whether she had ever known awe of anything, but just then the thunder, which had been merely growling, barked out like a howitzer above us, and she covered her head and screamed like any of her sex. The thunder sent me back to the woman. I crept, wet as I was, into her pine-needled hollow, and started to ask if she were afraid. But the question died at sight of her. She was propped on her elbows, and had parted the low boughs in front of her that she might look out at the storm. She turned at sound of me, and the blood was in her cheeks as I felt it in mine. "Come," she cried with her motion. I went and lay close beside her, peering, as she did, through the trees. The world was all wind and red light and churning water. I could feel her quick breathing. "I can hear the spirit of the wilderness crying," she said to me. The lightning played over her face and eyes, and they shone like flame. I laid a hand on her wet blankets. "Has the rain soaked through?" But she did not listen. The exultation in her look I have seen sometimes in the face of a young priest; I have also seen it in a savage dancer. It is all one. It is the leaping response of the soul to the call of a great freedom. Storm was su
PREV.   NEXT  
|<   99   100   101   102   103   104   105   106   107   108   109   110   111   112   113   114   115   116   117   118   119   120   121   122   123  
124   125   126   127   128   129   130   131   132   133   134   135   136   137   138   139   140   141   142   143   144   145   146   147   148   >>   >|  



Top keywords:

thunder

 

turned

 

blankets

 
boughs
 
parted
 

elbows

 
propped
 

question

 

howitzer

 

barked


covered
 

screamed

 

growling

 

hollow

 

started

 
needled
 

afraid

 

churning

 

soaked

 
listen

exultation

 
priest
 

freedom

 

response

 

savage

 

dancer

 

leaping

 
played
 

lightning

 

peering


motion

 

cheeks

 

spirit

 

wilderness

 

crying

 

breathing

 

submission

 

gentleness

 

thicket

 

obeyed


dumbly

 

inexperience

 

dependence

 

Heretofore

 

inscrutable

 

steady

 
wrapped
 

Onanguisse

 

letter

 

minutes