CHAPTER III
To Natalie, Shenton, and Lewis the scant twenty acres that surroundedConsolation Cottage was a vast demesne. Even on a full holiday one couldchoose one's excursions within its limits. From the high-plumed wall ofbamboos that lined Consolation Street, through the orange-grove, acrossthe hollow where were stable and horses, cows and calves, then up againto the wood on the other hillside--ah, that was a journey indeed, neverattempted in a single day. They chose their playground. To-day thebamboos held them, to-morrow the distant grove, where were pungentfruits, birds'-nests, fantastic insects, and elusive butterflies andmoths.
Then there was the brier-patch, with its secret chamber. By dint of longhours of toil and a purloined kitchen-knife they had tunneled into aclearing in the center of the thicket. Of all their retreats, this onealone had foiled their watchful overseers. Here was held, undetected,many an orgy over stolen fruit.
Nor did they have to seek far for a realm of terror. Behind thebrier-patch was the priest's wall. Over it was wafted the fragrance ofunknown flowers and of strange fruits--and the barking of a fierce dog.With the same kitchen-knife they pried loose a brick and slipped it out.They took turns at peeking through this tiny window on a strange world.What ecstasy when first they glimpsed the flat-hatted, black-robedfigure strolling in the wondrous garden! Then terror seized them, forthe quick-eyed priest had seen the hole, and before they could flee histoe was in it, and his frowning face, surmounted by the flaring hat,popped above the wall and glared down upon them.
"Do you hear my dog?" whispered the priest.
It was Natalie, trembling with fright, who answered, feeling a certainkinship for anything in skirts.
"Yeth, I do."
"Well," whispered the priest, his face twitching in the effort to lookstern, "he eats little children." With that he dropped from view.
Lewis and Shenton stared at each other. Natalie began to cry. Lewispicked up the brick and slipped it back into place. Shenton helped himwedge it in with twigs; then all three stole away, to break into gigglesand laughter when distance gave them courage.
Natalie and Lewis had another terror, unshared by Shenton. Manoel, thePortuguese gardener, who lived in a little two-room house in the hollow,had nothing but scowls for them. They feared him with the instinctivefear of children, but Shenton was his friend. Did any little tiff arise,Shenton was off to see Manoel. He knew the others were afraid to follow.Sometimes Manoel took him to his little house.
To Lewis this strange friendship was the one cloud in childhood's happysky. He could not have defined what he felt. It was jealousy mixed withhurt pride--jealousy of the hated Manoel, hurt pride at the thought thatShenton went where he could not follow.
One day Shenton had been gone an hour. Lewis had seen him with Manoel.He knew he was in Manoel's house. What were they doing? Lewis turned toNatalie.
"I am going to Manoel's house. Stay here."
Natalie stared at him with wide eyes.
"O, Lewis," she cried after him, "aren't you _'fraid_?"
Lewis crawled stealthily to a back window. He stood on tiptoe and triedto look in. His eyes were just below the level of the window-sill. Hedragged a log of wood beneath the window and climbed upon it. For a longtime he kept his face glued against one of the little square panes ofglass.
He forgot fear. In the room which the window commanded was a broad,rough table, and Manoel was seated on a bench before it, leaningforward, his long arms outstretched along its edge. The table was pushedalmost against the wall, and in its center stood Shenton, laughing tillthe tears ran down his cheeks. His curly hair was damp and clung to hiswhite forehead. His blouse was soiled, his kilt awry. One short stockinghad fallen down over his shoe. Manoel was also laughing, but silently.
Lewis did not have to wait long to divine the source of mirth, forShenton soon essayed to walk the length of the table. Lifting his arm,he pointed along a crack, and swung one leg around to take a first step.But he seemed unable to place his foot as he wished. He reeled and fellin a giggling ball, which Manoel saved from rolling to the floor.
Shrieks of laughter, deadened by the closed window, came from the child,and Manoel's broad shoulders shook with enjoyment. He stood Shenton onhis feet, and held him till he got his balance; then the play beganagain. Now Lewis felt fear steal over him, yet he could not go away.There was something inexpressibly comical in the scene, but it was notthis that held him. A strange terror had seized him. Something was thematter with Shenton. Lewis did not know what it was.
Suddenly Shenton's mood changed to sullen stupor, and Manoel, whose gaitwas also unsteady, picked him up and carried him to a spigot, where hecarefully unbuttoned the child's waist and soaked his head in coldwater. The charm was broken. Lewis fled.