CHAPTER XI
DEMONSTRATED COURTSHIP
When the Harvester saw the Girl coming toward the woods, he spread
the rug, opened and placed the table and chair, laid out the colour
box, and another containing the last luna.
``Did the green one come out?'' she asked, touching the box lightly.
``It did!'' said the Harvester proudly, as if he were responsible
for the performance. ``It is an omen! It means that I am to have
my long-coveted pattern for my best candlestick. It also clearly
indicates that the gods of luck are with me for the day, and I get
my way about everything. There won't be the least use in your asking
`why' or interposing objections. This is my clean sweep. I shall
be fearfully dictatorial and you must submit, because the fates
have pointed out that they favour me to-day, and if you go contrary
to their decrees you will have a bad time.''
The Girl's smile was a little wan. She sank on a chair and picked
up a pencil.
``Lay that down!'' cried the Harvester. ``You haven't had permission
from the Dictator to begin drawing. You are to sit and rest a long
time.''
``Please may I speak?'' asked the Girl.
The Harvester grew foolishly happy. Was she really going to play
the game? Of course he had hoped, but it was a hope without any
foundation.
``You may,'' he said soberly.
``I am afraid that if you don't allow me to draw the moth at once,
I'll never get it done. I dislike to mention it on your good day,
but Aunt Molly is very restless. I got a neighbour's little girl
to watch her and call me if I'm wanted. It's quite certain that
I must go soon, so if you would like the moth----''
``When luck is coming your way, never hurry it! You always upset
the bowl if you grow greedy and crowd. If it is a gamble whether
I get this moth, I'll take the chance; but I won't change my foreordained
programme for this afternoon. First, you are to sit still ten minutes,
shut your eyes, and rest. I can't sing, but I can whistle, and I'm
going to entertain you so you won't feel alone. Ready now!''
The Girl leaned her elbows on the table, closed her eyes, and pressed
her slender white hands over them.
``Please don't call the birds,'' she said. ``I can't rest if you
do. It was so exciting trying to see all of them and guess what
they were saying.''
``No,'' said the Harvester gently. ``This ten minutes is for relaxation,
you know. You ease every muscle, sink limply on your chair, lean
on the table, let go all over, and don't think. Just listen to me.
I assure you it's going to be perfectly lovely.''
Watching intently he saw the strained muscles relaxing at his suggestion
and caught the smile over the last words as he slid into a soft
whistle. It was an easy, slow, old-fashioned tune, carrying along
gently, with neither heights nor depths, just monotonous, sleepy,
soothing notes, that went on and on with a little ripple of change
at times, only to return to the theme, until at last the Girl lifted
her head.
``It's away past ten minutes,'' she said, ``but that was a real
rest. Truly, I am better prepared for work.''
``Broke the rule, too!'' said the Harvester. ``It was, for me to
say when time was up. Can't you allow me to have my way for ten
minutes?''
``I am so anxious to see and draw this moth,'' she answered. ``And
first of all you promised to bring the drawings you have been using.''
``Now where does my programme come in?'' inquired the Harvester.
``You are spoiling everything, and I refuse to have my lucky day
interfered with; therefore we will ignore the suggestion until we
arrive at the place where it is proper. Next thing is refreshments.''
He arose and coming over cleared the table. Then he spread on it
a paper tray cloth with a gay border, and going into the thicket
brought out a box and a big bucket containing a jug packed in ice.
The Girl's eyes widened. She reached down, caught up a piece, and
holding it to drip a second started to put it in her mouth.
``Drop that!'' commanded the Harvester. ``That's a very unhealthful
proceeding. Wait a minute.''
From one end of the box he produced a tin of wafers and from the
other a plate. Then he dug into the ice and lifted several different
varieties of chilled fruit. From the jug he poured a combination
that he made of the juices of oranges, pineapples, and lemons. He
set the glass, rapidly frosting in the heat, and the fruit before
the Girl.
``Now!'' he said.
For one instant she stared at the table. Then she looked at him
and in the depths of her dark eyes was an appeal he never forgot.
``I made that drink myself, so it's all right,'' he assured her.
``There's a pretty stiff touch of pineapple in it, and it cuts the
cobwebs on a hot day. Please try it!''
``I can't!'' cried the Girl with a half-sob. ``Think of Aunt Molly!''
``Are you fond of her?''
``No. I never saw her until a few weeks ago. Since then I've seen
nothing save her poor, tired back. She lies in a heap facing the
wall. But if she could have things like these, she needn't suffer.
And if my mother could have had them she would be living to-day.
Oh Man, I can't touch this.''
``I see,'' said the Harvester.
He reached over, picked up the glass, and poured its contents into
the jug. He repacked the fruit and closed the wafer box. Then he
made a trip to the thicket and came out putting something into his
pocket.
``Come on!'' he said. ``We are going to the house.''
She stared at him.
``I simply don't dare.''
``Then I will go alone,'' said the Harvester, picking up the bucket
and starting.
The Girl followed him.
``Uncle Henry may come any minute,'' she urged.
``Well if he comes and acts unpleasantly, he will get what he richly
deserves.''
``And he will make me pay for it afterward.''
``Oh no he won't!'' said the Harvester, ``because I'll look out
for that. This is my lucky day. He isn't going to come.''
When he reached the back door he opened it and stepped inside. Of
all the barren places of crude, disheartening ugliness the Harvester
ever had seen, that was the worst.
``I want a glass and a spoon,'' he said.
The Girl brought them.
``Where is she?''
``In the next room.''
At the sound of their voices a small girl came to the kitchen door.
``How do you do?'' inquired the Harvester. ``Is Mrs. Jameson asleep?''
``I don't know,'' answered the child. ``She just lies there.''
The Harvester gave her the glass. ``Please fill that with water,''
he said. Then he picked up the bucket and went into the front room.
When the child came with the water he took a bottle from his pocket,
filled the spoon, and handed it to her.
``Hold that steadily,'' he said.
Then he slid his strong hands under the light frame and turned the
face of the faded little creature toward him.
``I am a Medicine Man, Mrs. Jameson,'' he said casually. ``I heard
you were sick and I came to see if a little of this stuff wouldn't
brace you up. Open your lips.''
He held out the spoon and the amazed woman swallowed the contents
before she realized what she was doing. Then the Harvester ran a
hand under her shoulders and lifting her gently he tossed her pillow
with the other hand.
``You are a light little body, just like my mother,'' he commented.
``Now I have something else sick people sometimes enjoy.''
He held the fruit juice to her lips as he slightly raised her on
the pillow. Her trembling fingers lifted and closed around the sparkling
glass.
``Oh it's cool!'' she gasped.
``It is,'' said the Harvester, ``and sour! I think you can taste
it. Try!''
She drank so greedily he drew away the glass and urged caution,
but the shaking fingers clung to him and the wavering voice begged
for more.
``In a minute,'' said the Harvester gently. But the fevered woman
would not wait. She drank the cooling liquid until she could take
no more. Then she watched him fill a small pitcher and pack it in
a part of the ice and lay some fruit around it.
``Who, Ruth?'' she panted.
``A Medicine Man who heard about you.''
``What will Henry say?''
``He won't know,'' explained the Girl, smoothing the hot forehead.
``I'll put it in the cupboard, and slip it to you while he is out
of the room. It will make you strong and well.''
``I don't want to be strong and well and suffer it all over again.
I want to rest. Give me more of the cool drink. Give me all I want,
then I'll go to sleep.''
``It's wonderful,'' said the Girl. ``That's more than I've heard
her talk since I came. She is much stronger. Please let her have
it.''
The Harvester assented. He gave the child some of the fruit, and
told her to sit beside the bed and hold the drink when it was asked
for. She agreed to be very careful and watchful. Then he picked
up the bucket, and followed by the Girl, returned to the woods.
``Now we have to begin all over again,'' he said, as she seated
herself at the table. ``Because of the walk in the heat, this time
the programme is a little different.''
He replaced the wafer box and opened it, filled the glass, and heaped
the cold fruit.
``Your aunt is going to have a refreshing sleep now,'' he said,
``and your mind can be free about her for an hour or two. I am very
sure your mother would not want you deprived of anything because
she missed it, so you are to enjoy this, if you care for it. At
least try a sample.''
The Girl lifted the glass to her lips with a trembling hand.
``I'm like Aunt Molly,'' she said; ``I wish I could drink all I
could swallow, and then lie down and go to sleep forever. I suppose
this is what they have in Heaven.''
``No, it's what they drink all over earth at present, but I have
a conceit of my own brand. Some of it is too strong of one fruit
or of the other, and all too sweet for health. This is compounded
scientifically and it's just right. If you are not accustomed to
cold drinks, go slowly.''
``You can't scare me,'' said the Girl; ``I'm going to drink all
I want.''
There was a note of excitement in the Harvester's laugh.
``You must have some, too!''
``After a while,'' he said. ``I was thirsty when I made it, so I
don't care for any more now. Try the fruit and those wafers. Of
course they are not home made-- they are the best I could do at
a bakery. Take time enough to eat slowly. I'm going to tell you
a tale while you lunch, and it's about a Medicine Man named David
Langston. It's a very peculiar story, but it's quite true. This
man lives in the woods east of Onabasha, accompanied by his dog,
horse, cow, and chickens, and a forest full of birds, flowers, and
matchless trees. He has lived there in this manner for six long
years, and every spring he and his dog have a seance and agree whether
he shall go on gathering medicinal herbs and trying his hand at
making medicine or go to the city and live as other men. Always
the dog chooses to remain in the woods.
``Then every spring, on the day the first bluebird comes, the dog
also decides whether the man shall go on alone or find a mate and
bring her home for company. Each year the dog regularly has decided
that they live as always. This spring, for some unforeseen reason,
he changed his mind, and compelled the man, according to his vow
in the beginning, to go courting. The man was so very angry at the
idea of having a woman in his home, interfering with his work, disturbing
his arrangements, and perhaps wanting to spend more money than he
could afford, that he struck the dog for making that decision; struck
him for the very first time in his life----I believe you'd like
those apricots. Please try one.''
``Go on with the story,'' said the Girl, sipping delicately but
constantly at the frosty glass.
The Harvester arose and refilled it. Then he dropped pieces of ice
over the fruit.
``Where was I?'' he inquired casually.
``Where you struck Belshazzar, and it's no wonder,'' answered the
Girl.
Without taking time to ponder that, the Harvester continued:
``But that night the man had a wonderful, golden dream. A beautiful
girl came to him, and she was so gracious and lovely that he was
sufficiently punished for striking his dog, because he fell unalterably
in love with her.''
``Meaning you?'' interrupted the Girl.
``Yes,'' said the Harvester, ``meaning me. I----if you like----fell
in love with the girl. She came so alluringly, and I was so close
to her that I saw her better than I ever did any other girl, and
I knew her for all time. When she went, my heart was gone.''
``And you have lived without that important organ ever since?''
``Without even the ghost of it! She took it with her. Well, that
dream was so real, that the next day I began building over my house,
making furniture, and planting flowers for her; and every day, wherever
I went, I watched for her.''
``What nonsense!''
``I can't see it.''
``You won't find a girl you dreamed about in a thousand years.''
``Wrong!'' cried the Harvester triumphantly. ``Saw her in little
less than three months, but she vanished and it took some time and
difficult work before I located her again; but I've got her all
solid now, and she doesn't escape.''
``Is she a `lovely and gracious lady'?''
``She is!'' said the Harvester, with all his heart.
``Young and beautiful, of course!''
``Indeed yes!''
``Please fill this glass. I told you what I was going to do.''
The Harvester refilled the glass and the Girl drained it.
``Now won't you set aside these things and allow me to go to work?''
she asked. ``My call may come any minute, and I'll never forgive
myself if I waste time, and don't draw your moth pattern for you.''
``It's against my principles to hurry, and besides, my story isn't
finished.''
``It is,'' said the Girl. ``She is young and lovely, gentle and
a lady, you have her `all solid,' and she can't `escape'; that's
the end, of course. But if I were you, I wouldn't have her until
I gave her a chance to get away, and saw whether she would if she
could.''
``Oh I am not a jailer,'' said the Harvester. ``She shall be free
if I cannot make her love me; but I can, and I will; I swear it.''
``You are not truly in earnest?''
``I am in deadly earnest.''
``Honestly, you dreamed about a girl, and found the very one?''
``Most certainly, I did.''
``It sounds like the wildest romancing.''
``It is the veriest reality.''
``Well I hope you win her, and that she will be everything you desire.''
``Thank you,'' said the Harvester. ``It's written in the book of
fate that I succeed. The very elements are with me. The South Wind
carried a message to her for me. I am going to marry her, but you
could make it much easier for me if you would.''
``I! What could I do?'' cried the Girl.
``You could cease being afraid of me. You could learn to trust me.
You could try to like me, if you see anything likeable about me.
That would encourage me so that I could tell you of my Dream Girl,
and then you could show me how to win her. A woman always knows
about those things better than a man. You could be the greatest
help in all the world to me, if only you would.''
``I couldn't possibly! I can't leave here. I have no proper clothing
to appear before another girl. She would be shocked at my white
face. That I could help you is the most improbable dream you have
had.''
``You must pardon me if I differ from you, and persist in thinking
that you can be of invaluable assistance to me, if you will. But
you can't influence my Dream Girl, if you fear and distrust me yourself.
Promise me that you will help me that much, anyway.''
``I'll do all I can. I only want to make you see that I am in no
position to grant any favours, no matter how much I owe you or how
I'd like to. Is the candlestick you are carving for her?''
``It is,'' said the Harvester. ``I am making a pair of maple to
stand on a dressing table I built for her. It is unusually beautiful
wood, I think, and I hope she will be pleased with it.''
``Please take these things away and let me begin. This is the only
thing I can see that I can do for you, and the moth will want to
fly before I have finished.''
The Harvester cleared the table and placed the box, while the Girl
spread the paper and began work eagerly.
``I wonder if I knew there were such exquisite things in all the
world,'' she said. ``I scarcely think I did. I am beginning to understand
why you couldn't kill one. You could make a chair or a table, and
so you feel free to destroy them; but it takes ages and Almighty
wisdom to evolve a creature like this, so you don't dare. I think
no one else would if they really knew. Please talk while I work.''
``Is there a particular subject you want discussed?''
``Anything but her. If I think too strongly of her, I can't work
so well.''
``Your ginseng is almost dry,'' said the Harvester. ``I think I
can bring you the money in a few days.''
``So soon!'' she cried.
``It dries day and night in an even temperature, and faster than
you would believe. There's going to be between seven and eight pounds
of it, when I make up what it has shrunk. It will go under the head
of the finest wild roots. I can get eight for it sure.''
``Oh what good news!'' cried the Girl. ``This is my lucky day, too.
And the little girl isn't coming, so Aunt Molly must be asleep.
Everything goes right! If only Uncle Henry wouldn't come home!''
``Let me fill your glass,'' proffered the Harvester.
``Just half way, and set it where I can see it,'' said the Girl.
She worked with swift strokes and there was a hint of colour in
her face, as she looked at him. ``I hope you won't think I'm greedy,''
she said, ``but truly, that's the first thing I've had that I could
taste in----I can't remember when.''
``I'll bring a barrel to-morrow,'' offered the Harvester, ``and
a big piece of ice wrapped in coffee sacking.''
``You mustn't think of such a thing! Ice is expensive and so are
fruits.''
``Ice costs me the time required to saw and pack it at my home.
I almost live on the fruit I raise. I confess to a fondness for
this drink. I have no other personal expenses, unless you count
in books, and a very few clothes, such as I'm wearing; so I surely
can afford all the fruit juice I want.''
``For yourself, yes.''
``Also for a couple of women or I am a mighty poor attempt at a
man,'' said the Harvester. ``This is my day, so you are not to talk,
because it won't do any good. Things go my way.''
``Please see what you think of this,'' she said.
The Harvester arose and bent over her.
``That will do finely,'' he answered. ``You can stop. I don't require
all those little details for carving, I just want a good outline.
It is finished. See here!''
He drew some folded papers from his pocket and laid them before
her.
``Those are what I have been working from,'' he said.
The Girl took them and studied each carefully.
``If those are worth five dollars to you,'' she said gently, ``why
then I needn't hesitate to take as much for mine. They are superior.''
``I should say so,'' laughed the Harvester as he took up the drawing
and laid down the money.
``If you would make it half that much I'd feel better about it,''
she said.
``How could I?'' asked the Harvester. ``Your fingers are well trained
and extremely skilful. Because some one has not been paying you
enough for your work is no reason why I should keep it up. From
now on you must have what others get. As soon as you can arrange
for work, I want to tell you about some designs I have studied out
from different things, show you the plants and insects, and have
you make some samples. I'll send them to proper places, and see
what experts say about the ideas and drawing. Work in the woods
is healthful, with proper precautions; it's easy compared with the
exactions of being bound to sewing or embroidering in the confinement
of a room; it's vividly interesting in the search for new subjects,
changes of material, and differing harmonious combinations; it's
truly artistic; and it brings the prices high grade stuff always
does.''
``Almost you give me hope,'' said the Girl. ``Almost, Man----almost!
Since mother died, I haven't thought or planned beyond paying for
the medicine she took and the shelter she lies in. Oh I didn't mean
to say that----!''
She buried her face in her hands. The Harvester suffered until he
scarcely knew how to bear it.
``Please finish,'' he begged. ``You hadn't planned beyond the debt,
you were saying----''
The Girl lifted her tired, strained face.
``Give me a little more of that delicious drink,'' she said. ``I
am ravenous for it. It puts new life in me. This and what you say
bring a far away, misty vision of a clean, bright, peaceful room
somewhere, and work one could love and live on in comfort; enough
to give a desire to finish life to its natural end. Oh Man, you
make me hope in spite of myself!''
`` `Praise God from whom all blessings flow;' '' quoted the Harvester
reverently. ``Now try one of these peaches. It's juicy and cold.
Get that room right in focus in your brain, and nurture the idea.
Its walls shall be bright as sunshine, its floor creamy white, and
it shall open into a little garden, where only yellow flowers grow,
and the birds shall sing. The first ray of sun that peeps over the
hills of morning shall fall through its windows across your bed,
and you shall work only as you please, after you've had months of
play and rest; and it's coming true the instant you can leave here.
Dream of it, make up your mind to it, because it's coming. I have
a little streak of second sight, and I see it on the way.''
``You are talking wildly,'' said the Girl, ``else you are a good
genie trying to conjure a room for me.''
``This room I am talking of is ready whenever you want to take possession,''
said the Harvester. ``Accept it as a reality, because I tell you
I know where it is, that it is waiting, and you can earn your way
into it with no obligation to any one.''
The Girl stretched out her right hand and slowly turned and opened
and closed it. Then she glanced at the Harvester with a weary smile.
``From somewhere I feel a glimmering of the spirit, but Oh, dear
Lord, the flesh is weak!'' she said.
``That's where nourishing foods, appetizing drinks, plenty of pure,
fresh air, and good water come in. Now we have talked enough for
one day, and worked too much. The fruit and drink go with you. I
will carry it to the house, and you can hide it in your room. I
am going to put a bottle of tonic on top that the best surgeon in
the state gave me for you. Try to eat something strengthening and
then take a spoonful of this, and use all the fruit you want. I'll
bring more to-morrow and put it here, with plenty of ice. Now suppose
you let the moth go free,'' he suggested to avoid objections. ``You
must take my word for it, that it is perfectly harmless, lacking
either sting or bite, and hold your hand before it, so that it will
climb on your fingers. Then stand where a ray of sunshine falls
and in a few minutes it will go out to live its life.''
The Girl hesitated a second as she studied the clean-cut, interested
face of the man; then she held out her hand, and he urged the moth
to climb on her fingers. She stepped where a ray of strong light
fell on the forest floor and held the moth in it. The brightness
also touched her transparent hand and white face and the gleaming
black hair. The Harvester choked down a rising surge of desire for
her, and took a new grip on himself.
``Oh!'' she cried breathlessly, as the clinging feet suddenly loosened
and the luna slowly flew away among the trees. She turned on the
Harvester. ``You teach me wonders!'' she cried. ``You give life
different meanings. You are not as other men.''
``If that be true, it is because I am of the woods. The Almighty
does not evolve all his wonders in animal, bird, and flower form;
He keeps some to work out in the heart, if humanity only will go
to His school, and allow Him to have dominion. Come now, you must
go. I will come back and put away all the things and tomorrow I
will bring your ginseng money. Any time you cannot come, if you
want to tell me why, or if there is anything I can do for you, put
a line under the oilcloth. I will carry the bucket.''
``I am so afraid,'' she said.
``I will only go to the edge of the woods. You can see if there
is any one at the house first. If not, you can send the child away,
and then I will carry the bucket to the door for you, and it will
furnish comfort for one night, at least.''
They went to the cleared land and the Girl passed on alone. Soon
she reappeared and the Harvester saw the child going down the road.
He took up the bucket and set it inside the door.
``Is there anything I can do for you?''
``Nothing but go, before you make trouble.''
``Will you hide that stuff and walk back as far as the woods with
me? There is something more I want to say to you.''
The Girl staggered under the heavy load, and the man turned his
head and tried to pretend he did not see. Presently she came out
to him, and they returned to the line of the woods. Just as they
entered the shade there was a flash before them, and on a twig a
few rods away a little gray bird alighted, while in precipitate
pursuit came a flaming wonder of red, and in a burst of excited
trills, broken whistles, and imploring gestures, perched beside
her.
The Harvester hastily drew the Girl behind some bushes.
``Watch!'' he whispered. ``You are going to see a sight so lovely
and so rare it is vouchsafed to few mortals ever to behold.''
``What are they fighting about?'' she whispered.
``You are witnessing a cardinal bird declare his love,'' breathed
the Harvester.
``Do cardinals love different birds?''
``No. The female is gray, because if she is coloured the same as
the trees and branches and her nest, she will have more chance to
bring off her young in safety. He is blood red, because he is the
bravest, gayest, most ardent lover of the whole woods,'' explained
the Harvester.
The Girl leaned forward breathlessly watching and a slow surge of
colour crept into her cheeks. The red bird twisted, whistled, rocked,
tilted, and trilled, and the gray sat demurely watching him, as
if only half convinced he really meant it. The gay lover began at
the beginning and said it all over again with more impassioned gestures
than before, and then he edged in touch and softly stroked her wing
with his beak. She appeared startled, but did not fly. So again
the fountain of half-whistled, half-trilled notes bubbled with the
acme of pleading intonation and that time he leaned and softly kissed
her as she reached her bill for the caress. Then she fled in headlong
flight, while the streak of flame darted after her. The Girl caught
her breath in a swift spasm of surprise and wonder. She turned to
the Harvester.
``What was it you wanted to say to me?'' she asked hurriedly.
The Harvester was not the man to miss the goods the gods provided.
Truly this was his lucky day. Unhesitatingly he took the plunge.
``Precisely what he said to her. And if you observed closely, you
noticed that she didn't ask him `why.' ''
Before she could open her lips, he was gone, his swift strides carrying
him through the woods.