She had barely time to draw back before Leonidas darted down the trail towards her husband. Yet, in her intense curiosity, she leaned out the next moment to watch him. He paused at last, not far from the approaching figure, and seemed to kneel down on the trail. What was he doing? Her husband was still slowly advancing. Suddenly he stopped. At the same moment she heard their two voices in excited parley, and then, to her amazement, she saw her husband scramble hurriedly down the trail to the lower level, and with an occasional backward glance, hasten away until he had passed beyond her view.
She could scarcely realize her narrow escape when Leonidas stood by her side. How did you do it? she said eagerly.
With a rattler! said the boy gravely.
With a what?
A rattlesnakepizen snake, you know.
A rattlesnake? she said, staring at Leonidas with a quick snatching away of her skirts.
The boy, who seemed to have forgotten her in his other abstraction of adventure, now turned quickly, with devoted eyes and a reassuring smile.
Yes; but I wouldnt let him hurt you, he said gently.
But what did you DO?
He looked at her curiously. You wont be frightened if I show you? he said doubtfully. Theres nothin to be afeerd of slong as youre with me, he added proudly.
Yesthat isshe stammered, and then, her curiosity getting the better of her fear, she added in a whisper: Show me quick!
He led the way up the narrow trail until he stopped where he had knelt before. It was a narrow, sunny ledge of rock, scarcely wide enough for a single person to pass. He silently pointed to a cleft in the rock, and kneeling down again, began to whistle in a soft, fluttering way. There was a moment of suspense, and then she was conscious of an awful gliding something,a movement so measured yet so exquisitely graceful that she stood enthralled. A narrow, flattened, expressionless head was followed by a footlong strip of yellow-barred scales; then there was a pause, and the head turned, in a beautifully symmetrical half-circle, towards the whistler. The whistling ceased; the snake, with half its body out of the cleft, remained poised in air as if stiffened to stone.
There, said Leonidas quietly, thats what Mr. Burroughs saw, and thats WHY he scooted off the trail. I just called out William Henry,I call him William Henry, and he knows his name,and then I sang out to Mr. Burroughs what was up; and it was lucky I did, for the next moment hed have been on top of him and have been struck, for rattlers dont give way to any one.
Oh, why didnt you letShe stopped herself quickly, but could not stop the fierce glint in her eye nor the sharp curve in her nostril. Luckily, Leonidas did not see this, being preoccupied with his other graceful charmer, William Henry.
But how did you know it was here? said Mrs. Burroughs, recovering herself.
Fetched him here, said Leonidas briefly.
What in your hands? she said, drawing back.
No! made him follow! I HAVE handled him, but it was after Id first made him strike his pizen out upon a stick. Ye know, after he strikes four times he aint got any pizen left. Then ye kin do anythin with him, and he knows it. He knows me, you bet! Ive bin three months trainin him. Look! Dont be frightened, he said, as Mrs. Burroughs drew hurriedly back; see him mind me. Now scoot home, William Henry.
He accompanied the command with a slow, dominant movement of the hickory rod he was carrying. The snake dropped its head, and slid noiselessly out of the cleft across the trail and down the hill.
Thinks my rod is witch-hazel, which rattlers cant abide, continued Leonidas, dropping into a boys breathless abbreviated speech. Lives down your wayjust back of your farm. Show ye some day. Suns himself on a flat stone every dayalways coldnever can get warm. Eh?
She had not spoken, but was gazing into space with a breathless rigidity of attitude and a fixed look in her eye, not unlike the motionless orbs of the reptile that had glided away.
Does anybody else know you keep him? she asked.
Nary one. I never showed him to anybody but you, replied the boy.
Dont! You must show me where he hides to-morrow, she said, in her old laughing way. And now, Leon, I must go back to the house.
May I write to himto Jim Belcher, Mrs. Burroughs? said the boy timidly.
Certainly. And come to me to-morrow with your letterI will have mine ready. Good-by. She stopped and glanced at the trail. And you say that if that man had kept on, the snake would have bitten him?
Sure pop!if hed trod on himas he was sure to. The snake wouldnt have known he didnt mean it. Its only natural, continued Leonidas, with glowing partisanship for the gentle and absent William Henry. YOU wouldnt like to be trodden upon, Mrs. Burroughs!
No! Id strike out! she said quickly. She made a rapid motion forward with her low forehead and level head, leaving it rigid the next moment, so that it reminded him of the snake, and he laughed. At which she laughed too, and tripped away.
Leonidas went back and caught his trout. But even this triumph did not remove a vague sense of disappointment which had come over him. He had often pictured to himself a Heaven-sent meeting with her in the woods, a walk with her, alone, where he could pick her the rarest flowers and herbs and show her his woodland friends; and it had only ended in this, and an exhibition of William Henry! He ought to have saved HER from something, and not her husband. Yet he had no ill-feeling for Burroughs, only a desire to circumvent him, on behalf of the unprotected, as he would have baffled a hawk or a wildcat. He went home in dismal spirits, but later that evening constructed a boyish letter of thanks to the apocryphal Belcher and told him all aboutthe trout!
He brought her his letter the next day, and received hers to inclose. She was pleasant, her own charming self again, but she seemed more interested in other things than himself, as, for instance, the docile William Henry, whose hiding-place he showed, and whose few tricks she made him exhibit to her, and which the gratified Leonidas accepted as a delicate form of flattery to himself. But his yearning, innocent spirit detected a something lacking, which he was too proud to admit even to himself. It was his own fault; he ought to have waited for her, and not gone for the trout!
So a fortnight passed with an interchange of the vicarious letters, and brief, hopeful, and disappointing meetings to Leonidas. To add to his unhappiness, he was obliged to listen to sneering disparagement of his goddess from his family, and criticisms which, happily, his innocence did not comprehend. It was his own mother who accused her of shamefully making up to the good-looking expressman at church last Sunday, and declared that Burroughs ought to look after that wife of his,two statements which the simple Leonidas could not reconcile. He had seen the incident, and only thought her more lovely than ever. Why should not the expressman think so too? And yet the boy was not happy; something intruded upon his sports, upon his books, making them dull and vapid, and yet that something was she! He grew pale and preoccupied. If he had only some one in whom to confidesome one who could explain his hopes and fears. That one was nearer than he thought!
It was quite three weeks since the rattlesnake incident, and he was wandering moodily over Casket Ridge. He was near the Casket, that abrupt upheaval of quartz and gneiss, shaped like a coffer, from which the mountain took its name. It was a favorite haunt of Leonidas, one of whose boyish superstitions was that it contained a treasure of gold, and one of whose brightest dreams had been that he should yet discover it. This he did not do to-day, but looking up from the rocks that he was listlessly examining, he made the almost as thrilling discovery that near him on the trail was a distinguished-looking stranger.