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But when on Sunday, the story went round like lightning that Erick, in looking for berries, had fallen into the water, then it all at once was clear to Churi, that Erick had not told about him and that he again could go about quite free and without fear.
The pail was set upon a flat stone like a cobbler's lapstone, and the coffee berries were broken by using the butt of the bayonet as a pestle. At break of day every camp was musical with the clangor of these primitive coffee-mills.
"Now I will have a fine surprise for her when she awakes," and the little girl tiptoed noiselessly back to the edge of the woods, where she had noticed a quantity of checkerberry leaves. There were many crimson berries still clinging to the vines, and Anna picked these carefully, using her cap for a basket, and gathering a quantity of the young checkerberry leaves.
The florists' wagons appeared, and from house to house, from lawn to lawn, iron urns and window boxes filled up with pansies, geraniums, fuchsias, and trailing vines. The flower beds, stripped of straw and manure, bloomed again, and at length the great cottonwoods shed their berries, like clusters of tiny grapes, over street and sidewalk.
Of course Nanny knew nothing of this; she was rather exhausted, and had stopped for a moment, perambulator in hand, to speak to a friend. This was an opportunity not to be lost. Willie ran up with one of his small hands full of the juicy berries, they were so good he must give some to Alice. The delighted little girl opened wide her rosy mouth to receive the fruit.
"Beatrice please, please don't stay here, trying to save me." "Do you think I would go?" she cried. "You must. The food is about gone. Just enough to last one person through to the Yuga cabins with berries, roots. Take the pistol. There's six shots or so in the box. Make every one tell. Take the dead grouse too. The rifle's broken and we can't get meat. It's just death if you wait.
The only cannibal birds that seemed to be about were a pair of Cat Owls that spent most of the time in our hay-barn, where they paid for their lodgings by catching rats and mice. "But my flock of Juncos were determined to brave all weathers. First they ate the seeds of all the weeds and tall grasses that reached above the snow, then they cleaned the honeysuckles of their watery black berries.
On the way they came to a large patch of huckleberry bushes and found the berries ripe and luscious. "Let's pick some," said Whopper. "Then we can make huckleberry dumplings, or something like that." "What about huckleberry pie?" suggested Snap. "Great!" They stopped long enough to pick several quarts of the berries, stowing the fruit away in one of the cleaned-out game bags.
We asked the women if we could eat some of the berries, and they gave a cheerful consent. Thereupon Frank and I climbed the tree, and proceeded to help ourselves. The berries were big, dead ripe, and tasted mighty good, and we just stuffed ourselves until we could hold no more. The churning was finished by the time we descended from the tree, and we asked for some buttermilk.
They hurried here and there as they glimpsed red spots, only to find a leaf killed by the sun and fallen before season, or a bush reddened by berries. "We miscalculated the spot," swore Simmons. "It wasn't here it happened." And he sat down out of breath and leaned his burly back against the trunk of a giant sycamore tree.
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