CHAPTER II.
THE ARROW CAUGHT.
"Shoot away, my boy, I'll catch the arrow!" the rider called from hishorse, and the boy stood still, as if he had seen a miracle. Eric hadheard much of Roland's beauty, but he was astonished at the charminggrace of his figure. The boy's whole being seemed strained withamazement and excitement, like the bow which he held bent in his hand.The rider feasted his eyes on the picture. Roland's head was bare, hisjockey-cap lay near him on a great dog resting at his feet, and justraising his head as if to ask whether he should start up and drive thestranger away.
"Shoot away! Fire!" cried the rider, in a commanding tone. "Have you nocourage?"
The arrow whizzed from the bow, the rider bent sideways and caught itwith a sure hand.
"Either you are a bad marksman, or you tried not to hit me!" heexclaimed.
Astounded and motionless, with his bow lowered, the boy gazed at himwhile he was approaching and dismounting, and then asked,--
"Can you be the hero Siegfried?"
"Ah! then you know about him," replied Eric, gaily. "No, my youngfriend." He offered his hand to Roland, who seized it.
"Hero Siegfried wore no uniform with a red collar. But now help me todispose of my horse."
"It is like one of Count Wolfsgarten's horses."
"It is his."
"Ivan!" shouted the boy.
A groom appeared and led the horse to the stable. As Eric and Rolandfollowed, they heard from behind a partition near by a whining, and aweak attempt at barking.
"You have some young St. Bernard dogs close by," said Eric.
"Yes; do you know them by their whimper?"
"I can't tell the particular breed in that way. I saw a St. Bernard dogout there in the court; but I know by the sound that these puppies areblind and not a week old."
The boy looked at Eric as if he were a magician; he opened a door, butbegged him to go no nearer, because the mother was very savage, and wasjust then suckling all the five young ones. Eric did approach her,however, and she looked at him without growling, and again the boygazed at the stranger in astonishment.
"_You_ can certainly tell me why dogs are born blind," he began.
Eric smiled. A boy who asks questions is desirous of instruction andready for it; it is only necessary to put things before him which willlead him to question.
"Not only dogs," replied Eric, "but cats, eagles, and hawks come intothe world blind. It may be that those animals which need sharp eyes fortheir support and protection have a gradual development of the power ofsight, so that they do not see the light, as the saying is, all atonce. Man even, though he opens his eyes at his birth, has no realpower of sight at first; he has to learn to see during his first year.Man, like the brute, learns to use his limbs in his earliest years, butone thing the brute wants, he can never acquire articulate speech."
A thrill passed over the boy as he listened to the stranger, whosewords again had a tone of strangely magnetic power. In the excitedstate in which Eric had been for two days, and which reached its heightat this moment, it seemed to him as if he were acting out a fairy tale,or one of those dreams in which one says to himself, in the wonder ofthe dream-life, "Wake up, you are certainly dreaming!" There wassomething which gave him a sense of being merely a spectator of his ownlife, though he knew that he was actually living it. He compelledhimself to collect his thoughts, and said at last,--
"You are the son of Herr Sonnenkamp, are you not? and your name isRoland?"
"Roland Franklin Sonnenkamp; what is yours?"
"Eric Dournay."
The boy started; he thought he had heard the name within a few days,but was not quite sure.
"You are a Captain of Artillery, sir?" said he, pointing to theuniform.
"I have been. Then you know the different uniforms, my boy."
"Yes; but Herr von Pranken doesn't speak to me so familiarly."
"I think we had better both keep up the familiar manner that we beganwith," answered Eric, holding out his hand to the boy. Roland's handwas cold, all his blood had rushed to his head. The boy was surprisedand taken captive in spite of himself.
"If you like," he began again, "you can have one of my puppies. Two Imean to keep; one I shall bring up for my sister Manna; Baron vonPranken is to have the fourth, and you may have the fifth."
His face beaming with satisfaction, Eric looked at the boy; thispleasure in giving showed that there was something good to build upon.
"Perhaps you know that in Homer the host does honor to a guest bybestowing some gift as a token of remembrance."
"I know nothing about Homer."
"Have none of your tutors told you anything of him?"
"All of them. They made a great talk about him, but it's stupid."
Eric led the conversation back, and asked, "Who helps you train thedogs?"
"One who knows all about it, the huntsman Klaus, whom they call thescreamer; he will be pleased when I tell him that you knew how old thepuppies were by their whimper."
Eric nodded. A boy like this might easily be guided to knowledge, ifone could once get the lead.
Eric now asked Roland to conduct him to his father. As they were aboutto leave the stable, a snow-white pony with long mane turned his headquite round and neighed.
"That is my Puck," said Roland. He was evidently very happy in showingthe stranger all his treasures, almost like a little child who displaysa toy for the wonder of his playmate. Eric could not but praise thebeautiful creature, which looked at him with great, wild, shy eyes.
He took the boy's hand, and they went together through the largebotanical garden.
"Do you know about plants too?" asked Roland.
"No, I'm quite ignorant about them."
"So am I," said the boy, delighted; Eric's acknowledgment of anignorance which coincided with his own seemed to bring them nearer toeach other.
They passed over a plat where men were weeding and putting the groundin order. A little old man, with a shy but shrewd look, was at work; hetook off his cap, and said good-morning. "Have you seen my father?"asked Roland. "He is over there," replied the little man, pointingtoward the green-houses.
The long green-houses, constructed of pale-blue glass, came in sight. Adoor stood open, within which a fountain was to be seen, in whose graymarble basin lay blocks of stone with water plants growing in all theircrevices. Some of the trees which needed protection from the winterwere still here, and a few which did not thrive had thick wrappings ontrunk and branches.
They heard a voice. "There he is in the cold-house," said Roland. Erictold him to turn back now, as he had something to say to his fatheralone.
The boy stood as if rooted to the spot. In Eric's manner of orderinghim to go, there was an air of such irresistible authority that he didnot know what to make of it.
As Eric went forward, the boy stood motionless, then turned, snappedhis fingers, and whistled to himself.
Drawing a long breath, Eric stopped a moment to collect himself. Whatif this boy were related to him by blood, and he were to find here hismissing uncle? Walking slowly and composedly, he entered the open doorof the green-house.