CHAPTER XV
THE GALLERY OF THE GODS
There was a frightened look on the faces of the children for a moment orso, and then Sheila cried in a distressed tone, "But, Miss Natty, Idon't know how to pray that way."
Danny immediately flung about and flashed an annihilating look upon thelittle girl, but Nathalie, drawing the child close, explained what asilent prayer meant. Then, as she solemnly bowed her head, every littlehead went down, and for the space of a moment or so, up there on thathigh mountain,--that Nathalie always felt must be very close toGod,--there was a reverent silence, a sacred moment, as from eachchild-heart went up a prayer. Perhaps it was only a dumbly spoken word,or a reverent desire, but surely God heard.
As Nathalie raised her head, and the children followed herexample,--evidently there had been some peeping eyes,--all but Jean, whostill kept his head down, his pale lips slowly moving, there was amoment's quiet, and then Nathalie exclaimed, "Oh, boys, what do you sayto calling these rocks a fort?"
"Crackie! that will be dandy!" responded Danny quickly. "And, MissNathalie," he added, his face lighting with sudden thought, "why can'twe call it Liberty Fort?"
And so the round ledge of cobble-stones was named Liberty Fort, andthen, before Nathalie realized what the suggestion carried, Tonyproposed that the path at the foot of the terrace on which the fortstood, on the summit of the lower slope leading down to the meadow, be atrench.
Other suggestions followed, which culminated in a lengthy discussion,leading the children the following afternoon to the woods, where theygathered dried leaves, and little pebbles and twigs, to fill some bags,which Janet and Nathalie had made out of some old potato-sacks, torepresent sand-bags to pile on top of the trench. The two girlsmeanwhile sat in the fort and not only made epaulettes for the youngsoldiers' shoulders, but also gas-masks, which these Sons of Libertyvociferously declared that they must have, or they would be gassed.
After the Stars and Stripes, with the various flags of the Allies, hadbeen fastened to a pole and mounted on the fort, the battle of the Marnetook place, represented by these small soldiers, with guns held high,leaping over the sand-bags and rushing madly down the slope to themeadow below, which had been named "No Man's Land." Here, with eyesaflame and hair all tousled, they fought frenziedly with the imaginarygray uniforms of the German soldiery, who were supposed to have rushedtowards them from their entrenchments, the stone wall by the road justbeyond the meadow.
It was great sport, notwithstanding that their helmets--old tinpails--would insist upon falling over their faces just when some verywonderful capture was about to be made. But they soon learned not tomind a little thing like that, as Danny observed with officer-likebrusqueness--he was the general-in-chief of these liberty forces--thatonly slackers or mollycoddles would stop fighting for a hat. So theyfought most furiously, imitating in every way possible the maneuvers andtactics of the soldiers in France.
They took possession of a rustic seat on the ridge near the woods for anoutpost, and here Sheila, with a big paper soldier's cap on her head,was posted to parade with military precision before it as a sentry.Danny, meanwhile would climb a tree, to watch a make-believe enemy'saeroplane, or to play the role of a bird-man, getting ready to fly in apatrol over the enemy's entrenchments.
The parts the little girl played were numerous, sometimes acting as acanteen girl, selling lemonade and make-believe "smokes,"--twigs trimmedto represent cigarettes,--or again, playing the part of a capturedBoche, always insisting that she was a prince, or some high Germanofficial. She entered into the playing of holding up her hands in tokenof surrender, while calling "Kamerad" with dramatic fervor. Then, as ifsuddenly reminded that she was a scion of royalty, she would take tofighting and kicking furiously to be released, bringing her teeth intoaction, and inflicting sundry bites on her captor with such energy thatNathalie, or Janet, tricked out with a white head-gear, starred with ared cross, would hurry to the scene, and bind up with soft rags thewounds of the afflicted one.
Jean, who had begun to prove that his real self was only lying dormantbeneath a shroud of sorrow, was triumphantly happy as the bugler, andone day suggested that they have a tank,--he had seen one on abattle-field. An old tin can was then procured from Sam, which had doneduty in holding chicken-feed. It was now made to roll, in a horriblyqueer way, down the slope and over No Man's Land, maneuvered by Jean,who was inside of it, and who proved that he was a keen trailer of theBoches, as the lad always called the Germans.
The boy frightened Nathalie, sometimes, by the intense hatred hedisplayed whenever the Germans were mentioned, as his face would growtense and a sudden fire would flame up in his eyes, while his one handwould clench rigidly and his little form trembled with the force of thepassion within his breast.
But the children did not always play at war in France, for sometimesthey were Indians, and would wriggle over the grass snake-fashion. Theywere all sachems, or big chiefs, named after some red-skinned hero ofsome Indian tale Nathalie had told them, each one intent on scalpingsome white man. Sometimes Jean would teach the boys how to play some ofthe games played in Belgium, as _jet_, a game which seemed to be playedwith a stick on a stone, and which they all seemed to enjoy. Then againthey would play hopscotch in Jean's way, and which he called "Kalinker."But always at the end of their play they would line up in the circlingledge of stones, and, as if inspired by Nathalie's suggestion on the dayof their first visit to the fort, stand very still as they again bowedtheir heads in a silent prayer for the boys who were fighting "overthere."
Then, one morning, a telephone message came from Mr. Banker that hewould be up that afternoon and take the children to the Flume. Whereuponthey all became so exuberantly happy that Nathalie had rather a hardtime pinning them down to their usual duties.
After a delightful drive, in which Nathalie and Mr. Banker were keptbusy answering the many queries propounded by the sightseers, as theygazed in awed wonder at the strange rock formations with their purpleand green tints, the silvery waterfalls, and the many natural beautiesof the Notch, they arrived at the Flume.
Here, opposite the Flume House, they climbed a zigzagging path up a hillbacked by two massive mountains, and then went through a belt ofwoodland to inspect the Pool. This was a mountain freak, a great basinover a hundred feet wide and forty deep, hollowed out by thePemigewasset River's age-old tools, sand and water, as they flowed overits rocky bed.
The lustrous green of its waters rippling between lichen-covered cliffs,and canopied by overhanging trees--that looked as if they would fallfrom age--was so transparent that the children could see the shinypebbles at the bottom of the Pool.
On returning to the road they started for the Flume, passing over awooden bridge, and then up an incline, a sort of up-hill-and-down-daleroad, as it followed the mountain brook flowing from the cascade thatdashed over the rocks at the head of the gorge. The wild picturesquebeauty of this "Gallery of the Gods," as Mr. Banker called it, not onlyelicited many exclamations from the children, but brought forth moreweird fancies from Sheila, which challenged the humorous gleam in thatgentleman's eyes many times.
The child's mind was so rich in imagery, that every hooded mountain orqueer-shaped cliff, every passing cloud or glint of sunlight as itfiltered down through the leaves in the forest, and the soft patter ofthe raindrops as they danced on the window-pane in a storm, were sourcesof constant delight. In childish prattle she would tell Nathalie whatthe wind said as it swept through the trees, or came with a soft rustlearound the corner of the veranda on a breezy day. The soft twirl of aleaf, the trill of a bird in the silent forest, were all pixie-whispers.
She would pick up a leaf from the road, beautiful to her in its satinygreenness, or some gay-petaled flower, and talk to it as if it were herdolly, or some tricksy creature from fairy-land, always giving it somefanciful name that was keenly suggestive of its nature. Animals shecaressed and fondled with the fearless confidence and love of trusti
ngchildhood.
They finally reached the remarkable rock gallery in the very heart ofthe mountain, which Nathalie now introduced to them as Liberty Mountain.She explained that it was cut in two by the deep gorge, or fissure,known as The Flume, whose walls reached to a perpendicular height offifty or seventy feet, while at its farther end a mountain-brook camedashing down with great splashes of white foam.
The children were hushed to profound wonder at the frowning gloom of thegreat wall that reached so high and dark above their heads, with itspatches of green moss, and where, from its many crevices, young bircheshad fastened their roots, and ferns and vines clung to soften its harshgray. Every now and then a tiny white mountain-flower could be seenpeeping down at them, like a fairy, Sheila declared, from a mossy bed ofgreen.
They climbed up and up, stepping from rock to rock, to clamber at lastover the slippery smoothness of the granite ledges. Here the cascade hadsimmered to a lazy flow, to eddy with a silver tinkling into the manyhollows that perforated the rocks, making tiny glistening pools, whichgave the children unfeigned delight as they dipped their hands in itssoft trickle.
But when they reached the narrow foot-bridge, sometimes only railed by asingle birch pole, or a rope that clung tremblingly to one side of thesteep wall, and looked down into the gorge below, they came to a suddenhalt. With a haunting fascination they watched the brook as it nowdashed with a mad plunge, splashed with patches of snowy foam, over themasses of green-embossed boulders, that looked as if they had beentossed, helter-skelter fashion, into the narrow slit of rock, in angrymood, by old Father Time.
With strange awe they glanced up the gorge, through the weird gloom ofthe scene, at the pearly glitter of the falling water, with its blur ofgreen background, that appeared as if some miraculous hand had suddenlywrenched the earth apart to send forth its flashing spray. And then theygrew curiously still as they spied the eerie shadows on the high blackwall, where the sunlight, as it glinted down into the glen in wantonsport, played hide-and-seek with golden glimmer.
But the silence was broken as Mr. Banker pointed out a huge tree-trunkthat had fallen across the stream, reaching from side to side of thegorge, making an aerial pathway high above their heads. When thegentleman said it was called "The Devil's Bridge," and that sometimespeople had walked on it across the gorge, their tongues began toclatter.
Fired by curiosity, the boys regained their nerve and pushed manfully upthe foot-bridge, barred with slats, like a horse's plank, while Mr.Banker, holding little Sheila by the hand, followed close behind.Nathalie, with a strange timidity, hesitatingly followed, always beingoppressed by an odd, queer feeling when ascending any great height, afeeling that she wanted to cling to something more tangible than space.But there was nothing to cling to but that shaky old railing, and littleJean was hanging to it fearsomely with his one hand, his little formshaking tremulously, and his eyes black with an odd fear.
Stirred to pity, Nathalie drew the child to the other side of her, nearthe high wall, away from that gaping rut in the earth beneath, and thencaught him firmly by the shoulder. Then suddenly, perhaps it was a quickglance down into the depths below, she felt a strange, indefinablesensation pass through her. A deathly faintness seized her; she closedher eyes, and then she felt herself falling, falling----
But a pitiful cry from the boy, "Oh, Mademoiselle Natty! No, you notfall! Jean will hold you," aroused her, and she opened her eyes to seethe white face of the boy, as he stared up at her while clutching herfrantically with his one hand.
"Oh, no, Jean; I'm all right now," but even as she spoke that same oldsensation again thrilled her. She felt sick and faint again, andthen----
"Rather steep just here, isn't it? But cling to that rail, and you'll beall right; you can't fall."
The girl turned quickly, once more roused from the sudden fear that hadassailed her, and found herself gazing into the sun-tanned face of ayoung man in khaki. He had slipped his arm back of her, against therailing, as if to prevent her from falling, while from under the shadowof his wide-brimmed hat two dark-blue eyes, heavily lashed, smiled downat her reassuringly.
Nathalie heaved a deep sigh. Oh, it was such a relief to see thatstrong, brown hand grasping the rail. And then, with a quick littlesmile, in sudden realization of her foolish fancy that she was slippingdown into the gorge below, she cried, "Oh, I don't suppose I could fall,but something---- O dear! I know I am very foolish, but I always feel soqueer when I stand on any great height, especially when I look down."
"That is a sensation that is shared by many people when they get up inthe air, I guess," was the kindly response. And then, as if to give thegirl time to regain her poise, he turned to Jean. "Do you see that placebetween the walls?" directing the child's gaze to a place midway betweenthe top of the gorge and the brook below. "Well, ever since the Flumehas been known to white men," he continued, "a great rock, or boulder,was wedged, or suspended, between the two walls. It was like a nut in acracker, a most curious sight.
"I remember it as a child, when up in the mountains," he related, "andalways had a strange fear that it would tumble down. But every oneasserted that it was an impossibility, for it would take an earthquake,or some great convulsion of nature, to dislodge it. Nevertheless Ialways fought shy of it, and would scurry by as if a witch was after me.But, strange to say," continued the young man, smiling, and showing hiseven white teeth, "the prophets were away off, for it fell just a fewyears ago, and without the aid of an earthquake."
"Oh, did it fall on any one?" gasped the girl quickly.
"No, luckily for the wise-alls; for it fell in the middle of the night,and no one was hurt."
Nathalie drew a relieved sigh. "What an escape! Oh, suppose it hadfallen when some one was passing beneath it!"
The girl found herself gazing into the sun-tanned face ofa young man in khaki.--_Page 231._]
"Well, they would have been pulverized," laughed the young man. "I begyour pardon, Miss, but would you not like to have me help you to thetop? For I see you have the little boy with you, and, as you are timid,I do not think I would risk it alone."
"Oh, thank you; you are very kind," replied the girl hastily, her facedimpling, for she had begun to feel like her old self. "But no; I don'tthink I will venture any farther. I guess I am too timid. I will goback." She glanced down at Jean, who was gazing up at the young soldierwith worshipful awe in his eyes.
"Let me assist you down, then, to where you will not be affected by theheight." And Nathalie, glad to think that she did not have to turn backand go down that plank alone, allowed the young man to pilot her down,firmly grasping her by the arm, until she stood where she asserted shefelt no fear. She would wait there on the rocks, until the rest of herparty came down, she said, after thanking her rescuer.
The young man bowed silently, lifted his hat, and turned to ascend thefoot-bridge again, while Nathalie sought a rock where she and Jean couldsit down. But in a moment he was back at her side, crying, "I beg yourpardon," Nathalie noticed that he had a pleasant voice that somehow hada familiar ring to it, "but perhaps the little boy would like to go upto the top, as every one likes to see the cascade as it plunges over therocks. I will take good care of him if he would like to go," glancing atthe little empty sleeve with a compassionate expression in his eyes.
Nathalie was on the verge of saying, "Oh, no; I think Jean would ratherstay with me," when she caught a sudden expression in the boy's eyesthat caused her to say, "Jean, would you like to go to the top with thisgentleman? Mr. Banker and the boys are up there, you know."
There was no doubt as to the child wanting to see and to do as the otherchildren, or his evident trust in the young soldier, and a minute laterthe young man, with Jean's hand held firmly in his, was guiding thechild's steps up the foot-bridge.
Some time later, as the car glided along the road on its homewardjourney, a short distance from the Flume House, Mr. Banker showed theparty a singular rock-formation, caused by the undulations of thetopmost ridge of Liberty Mountain
. The outlines were those of a hugerecumbent figure, wrapped in a cloak or shroud, and bore such a closeresemblance, especially the contour of the forehead and nose, to thoseof General Washington, as after his death he lay in state, on view tothe public, that it had been called "Washington in State." Many people,he asserted, claimed that the great American's body should lie at reston this mountain ridge, named for what the great man had striven so hardto maintain, liberty, and thus be his everlasting mausoleum.
A six-mile ride and they descended from the car, to walk to the shoresof Profile Lake, a few feet from the road. But it was not to look at thesunlit sheen of silver water, embedded like a gem in a green and purpleforest setting, but to gaze with awesome wonder at a huge stone face. Itwas the Old Man of the Mountain that gazed forth with a stony stare froma steep and craggy setting, twelve hundred feet high above the lake, onthe battlemented spires of Profile, or Cannon Mountain.
It was another weird formation created by Father Time, that Mr. Bankerclaimed looked as if it had been stuck on the huge mountain-cliff, likethe head of some criminal of medieval days, when spiked on the stonegateway of some kingly stronghold for some dastardly deed.
"But this face is not that of a felon, for note the calm majesty, thebeautiful benignity of its expression. To me," commented the gentleman,"it is an unchangeable token and an everlasting confirmation that thereis a Creator, and bears witness to the account in Genesis where it saysthat God created man in His own image, 'in the image of God created hehim.'"
Mr. Banker explained that the face was composed of three masses of rock,one forming the forehead and helmet, another the nose and upper lip, andthe third the chin, and that the whole length of the rock-face waseighty feet from the top to the bottom. When viewed at a close range itlost its contour, and seemed but a few huge rocks tumbled one uponanother, with no regularity of form or feature.
After the boys had studied the gigantic "face in air," as Sheila calledit, and deciphered many oddities upon it, evoked by her imagination,Nathalie told them the story of "The Great Stone Face."
They were all greatly interested in Hawthorne's tale, and readilygrasped its meaning, that, after all, it was goodness and greatnessgained by studying the great and good in others, the giving of our bestto our fellows as Sons of Liberty, Nathalie tried to explain, thathelped one to become godlike.
Mr. Banker then told the legend called Christus Judex, which told of anartist, who had resolved to paint a picture of Christ sitting injudgment, and how he wandered up and down the world from one place toanother, seeking in art galleries, palaces, or churches, a face thatwould serve him as a model for his great masterpiece. But alas, it wasnot to be found, not even among the paintings of the old masters, andfinally, lured by some wayfarer's tale, he crossed the sea, and in thisgreat stone face found the countenance that embodied the features andthe expression that satisfied his ideal.
After walking a short distance around the lake, to view its beauties,and picking out the stone cannon on the top of the mountain, they droveto the Basin, another rock-wonder, a miniature edition of the greatPool. Giant's Heel, a rock-formation of a human leg and foot, seemed topossess a luring charm to the children, and after they had studied it,and then discussed it with curious wonder and awe, the little partystarted on their homeward drive.
On the way Mr. Banker pointed out various stone formations, among themthe Elephant's Head and the head of a dog, while Echo Lake, alight withthe calm glow of a setting sun, revealed so many tempting bits oflake-wonders that the children begged that they might spend a day there,as it was not far from Franconia village.
Nathalie was unusually quiet on the homeward ride, not only feelingalmost too tired to talk, but pondering with a puzzled air over theyoung soldier-boy. She had a vague feeling that she had seen his facebefore, but where? She finally determined to push the matter from hermind, when a sudden smile leaped to her eyes. Oh, what a ninny she was,for he was one of the soldier-boys she had met at Camp Mills, to whomshe had proffered the cherries! And he had not only helped to gatherthem up from the dust of the road, but _he_ was the boy who had wavedhis hat to them in a parting salute as the car whirled out of sight!