CHAPTER XIX
THE CALL OF THE OREADS
There was mingled rejoicing and lamentation in the household of JohnGale this afternoon. Molly and Johnny were in the throes of anoverwhelming sorrow, the noise of which might be heard from thebarracks to the Indian village. They were sparing of tears as a rule,but when they did give way to woe they published it abroad, yellingwith utter abandon, their black eyes puckered up, their mouthsdistended into squares, from which came such a measure of sound as torack the ears and burden the air heavily with sadness. Poleon was goingaway! Their own particular Poleon! Something was badly askew in thegeneral scheme of affairs to permit of such a thing, and theymanifested their grief so loudly that Burrell, who knew nothing ofDoret's intention, sought them out and tried to ascertain the cause ofit. They had found the French-Canadian at the river with their father,loading his canoe, and they had asked him whither he fared. When themeaning of his words struck home they looked at each other in dismay,then, bred as they were to mask emotion, they joined hands and trudgedsilently back up the bank with filling eyes and chins a-quiver untilthey gained the rear of the house. Here they sat down all forlorn, andbegan to weep bitterly and in an ascending crescendo.
"What's the matter with you tikes, anyhow?" inquired the Lieutenant. Hehad always filled them with a speechless awe, and at his unexpectedappearance they began the slow and painful process of swallowing theirgrief. He was a nice man, they had both agreed long ago, and verysplendid to the eye, but he was nothing like Poleon, who was one ofthem, only somewhat bigger.
"Come, now! Tell me all about it," the soldier insisted. "Has somethinghappened to the three-legged puppy?"
Molly denied the occurrence of any such catastrophe.
"Then you've lost the little shiny rifle that shoots with air?" ButJohnny dispelled this horrible suspicion by drawing the formidableweapon out of the grass behind him.
"Well, there isn't anything else bad enough to cause all this outlay ofanguish. Can't I help you out?"
"Poleon!" they wailed, in unison.
"Exactly! What about him?"
"He's goin' away!" said Johnny.
"He's goin' away!" echoed Molly.
"Now, that's too bad, of course," the young man assented; "but thinkwhat nice things he'll bring you when he comes back."
"He ain't comin' back!" announced the heir, with the tone that conveysa sorrow unspeakable.
"He ain't comin' back!" wailed the little girl, and, being a woman,yielded again to her weakness, unashamed.
Burrell tried to extract a more detailed explanation, but this was asfar as their knowledge ran. So he sought out the Canadian, and foundhim with Gale in the store, a scanty pile of food and ammunition on thecounter between them.
"Poleon," said he, "you're not going away?"
"Yes," said Doret. "I'm takin' li'l' trip."
"But when are you coming back?"
The man shrugged his shoulders.
"Dat's hard t'ing for tellin'. I'm res'less in my heart, so I'm goin'travel some. I ain' never pass on de back trail yet, so I 'spect I keepgoin'."
"Oh, but you can't!" cried Burrell. "I--I--" He paused awkwardly, whiledown the breeze came the lament of the two little Gales. "Well, I feeljust as they do." He motioned in the direction of the sound. "I wantedyou for a friend, Doret; I hate to lose you."
"I ain' never got my satisfy yet, so I'm pass on--all de tam' pass on.Mebbe dis trip I fin' de place."
"I'm sorry--because--well, I'm a selfish sort of cuss--and--" Burrellpulled up blushingly, with a strong man's display of shame at his ownemotion. "I owe all my happiness to you, old man. I can't thankyou--neither of us can--we shall never live long enough for that, butyou mustn't go without knowing that I feel more than I'll ever havewords to say."
He was making it very hard for the Frenchman, whose heart was achingalready with a dull, unending pain. Poleon had hoped to get awayquietly; his heart was too heavy to let him face Necia or this man, andrun the risk of their reading his secret, so a plaintive wrinklegathered between his eyes that grew into a smile. And then, as if hewere not tried sufficiently, the girl herself came flying in.
"What's this I hear?" she cried. "Alluna tells me--" She saw thetelltale pile on the counter, and her face grew white. "Then it's true!Oh, Poleon!"
He smiled, and spoke cheerily. "Yes, I been t'inkin' 'bout dis triplong tam'."
"When are you coming back?"
"Wal, if I fin' dat new place w'at I'm lookin' for I don' never comeback. You people was good frien' to me, but I'm kin' of shif'lessfeller, you know. Mebbe I forget all 'bout Flambeau, an' stop on my'New Countree'--you never can tol' w'at dose Franchemans goin' do."
"It's the wander-lust," murmured Burrell to himself; "he'll never rest."
"What a child you are!" cried Necia, half angrily. "Can't you conquerthat roving spirit and settle down like a man?" She laid her hand onhis arm appealingly. "Haven't I told you there isn't any 'far country'?Haven't I told you that this path leads only to hardship and sufferingand danger? The land you are looking for is there"--she touched hisbreast--"so why don't you stay in Flambeau and let us help you to findit?"
He was deeply grateful for her blindness, and yet it hurt him so thathis great heart was nigh to bursting. Why couldn't she see the endless,hopeless yearning that consumed him, and know that if he stayed insight and touch of her it would be like a living death? Perhaps, then,she would have given over urging him to do what he longed to do, andlet him go on that search he knew was hopeless, and in which he had nojoy. But she did not see; she would never see. He laughed aloud, forall the world as if the sun were bright and the fret for adventure werestill keen in him, then, picking up his bundle, said:
"Dere's no use argue wit' Canayen man. Mebbe some day I come paddleback roun' de ben' down yonder, an' you hear me singin' dose chanson;but now de day she's too fine, de river she's laugh too loud, an' debirds she's sing too purty for Francheman to stop on shore. Ba gosh,I'm glad!" He began to hum, and they heard him singing all the way downto the river-bank, as if the spirit of Youth and Hope and Gladness werenot dead within him.
"Chante, rossignol, chante! Toi qui a le coeur gai; Tu as le coeur a rire Mai j' l' ai-ta pleurer, Il y a longtemps que j' t'aime Jamais je ne t'oublierai."
[Footnote: "Sing, little bird, oh, sing away! You with the voice so light and gay! Yours is a heart that laughter cheers, Mine is a heart that's full of tears. Long have I loved, I love her yet; Leave her I can, but not forget."]
A moment later they heard him expostulating with some one at thewater's edge, and then a child's treble rose on high.
"No, no! I'm goin', too! I'm goin', too-o-o-o--"
"Hey! John Gale!" called Poleon. "Come 'ere! Ba gosh! You better horry,too! I can't hol' dis feller long."
When they appeared on the bank above him, he continued, "Look 'ere w'atI fin' on my batteau," and held up the wriggling form of Johnny Gale."He's stow hisse'f away onder dem blanket. Sacre! He's bad feller, disman--don' pay for hees ticket at all; he's reg'lar toff mug."
"I want to go 'long!" yelled the incorrigible stow-away. He had broughthis gun with him, and this weapon, peeping forth from under Poleon'sblanket, had betrayed him. "I want to go 'long!" shrieked the littleman "I like you best of all!" At which Doret took him in his arms andhugged him fiercely.
"Wal, I guess you don' t'ink 'bout dem beeg black bear at night, eh?"But this only awoke a keener distress in the junior Gale.
"Oh, maybe de bear will get you, Poleon! Let me go long, and I'll keepdem off. Two men is better dan one--please, Poleon!"
It took the efforts of Necia and the trader combined to tear the ladfrom the Frenchman, and even then the foul deed was accomplished onlyat the cost of such wild acclaim and evidence of undying sorrow thatlittle Molly came hurrying from the house, her round face stained andtearful, her mouth an inverted crescent. She had gone to the lame puppyfor comfo
rt, and now strangled him absent-mindedly in her arms,clutching him to her breast so tightly that his tongue lolled out andhis three legs protruded stiffly, pawing an aimless pantomime. WhenJohnny found that no hope remained, he quelled his demonstrations ofemotion and, as befitted a stout-hearted gentleman of the woods, bore afinal present to his friend. He took the little air-gun and gave itinto Poleon's hands against that black night when the bears would come,and no man ever made a greater sacrifice. Doret picked him up by theelbows and kissed him again and again, then set him down gently, atwhich Molly scrambled forward, and without word or presentation speechgave him her heart's first treasure. She held out the three-leggedpuppy, for a gun and a dog should ever go together; then, being of thewomankind aforesaid, she began to cry as she kissed her pet good-bye onits cold, wet nose.
"Wat's dis?" said Poleon, and his voice quavered, for these childishfingers tore at his heart-strings terribly.
"He's a very brave doggie," said the little girl. "He will scare debears away!" And then she became dissolved in tears at the anguish heroffering cost her.
Doret caressed her as he had her brother, then placed the puppycarefully upon the blankets in the canoe, where it wagged a gratefuland amiable stump at him and regained its breath. It was the highestproof of Molly's affection for her Poleon that she kept her tear-dimmedeyes fixed upon the dog as long as it was visible.
The time had come for the last good-bye--that awkward moment when humanhearts are full and spoken words are empty. Burrell gripped theFrenchman's hand. He was grateful, but he did not know.
"Good-luck and better hunting!" he said. "A heavy purse and a lightheart for you always, Poleon. I have learned to love you."
"I want you to be good husban', M'sieu'. Dat's de bes' t'ing I can wishfor you."
Gale spoke to him in patois, and all he said was:
"May you not forget, my son."
They did not look into each other's eyes; there was no need. The oldman stooped, and, taking both his children by the hand, walked slowlytowards the house.
"Dis tam' I'll fin' it for sure," smiled Poleon to Necia.
Her eyes were shining through the tears, and she whispered, fervently:
"I hope so, brother. God love you--always."
It was grief at losing a playmate, a dear and well-beloved companion.He knew it well, and he was glad now that he had never said a word oflove to her. It added to his pain, but it lightened hers, and that hadever been his wish. He gazed on her for a long moment, taking in thatblessed image which would ever live with him--in his eyes was the lightof a love as pure and clean as ever any maid had seen, and in his hearta sorrow that would never cease.
"Good-bye, li'l' gal," he said, then dropped her hand and entered hiscanoe. With one great stroke he drove it out and into the flood, thenheaded away towards the mists and colors of the distant hills, wherethe Oreads were calling to him. He turned for one last look, and flunghis paddle high; then, fearing lest they might see the tears that cameat last unhindered, he began to sing:
"Chante, rossignol, chante! Toi qui a le coeur gai; Tu as le coeur a rire Mai j' l' ai-t-a pleurer."
He sang long and lustily, keeping time to the dip of his flashingpaddle and defying his bursting heart. After all, was he not avoyageur, and life but a song and a tear, and then a dream or two?
"I wish I might have known him better," sighed Meade Burrell, as hewatched the receding form of the boatman.
"You would have loved him as we do," said Necia, "and you would havemissed him as we will."
"I hope some time he will be happy."
"As happy as you, my soldier?"
"Yes; but that he can never be," said her husband; "for no man couldlove as I love you."
"Yours is a heart that laughter cheers, Mine is a heart that's full of tears. Long have I loved, I love her yet; Leave her I can, but not forget--"
came the voice of the singer far down the stream. And thus Poleon ofthe Great Heart went away.
THE END
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