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Updated: April 30, 2025
When he first became aware of this, he heaved a great sigh, as if his heart were broken, then pressed his lips together as before, and peered through the thick gray twilight, looking for the creek's mouth while yet there was a little light.
"Just think," said Harry, "that old creek's been doing that ever since time began every day the sun comes to take his share at lighting it up, long before we were born, and ages after we shall die! Doesn't it make you feel small!" Norah nodded understandingly. "I saw it once by moonlight," she said. "Dad and I rode here one night full moon. Oh, it was lovely!
He put on the painted coat, made the blankets and provisions into a pack which he fastened on his back, hid the light craft among weeds and bushes at the creek's margin, and then struck off at a swift pace toward the west and south. While bands would surely follow him, he did not believe the Indian hosts could be got together again for his pursuit and capture.
There'll be ten feet of water roaring down here one of these days." "Look at these pretty stones I found," she said. "What are they, Bill?" "Those?" He looked at her outstretched palm. "Garnets." "Garnets? They must be valuable, then," she observed. "The creek's full of them." "Valuable? I should say so," he grinned. "I sent a sample to a Chicago firm once.
Whether he took in all this about the creek's playful little habits or not I don't know. Anyway, he didn't hang back, and while I've started on evenin' walks that sounded a lot pleasanter I wasn't going to duck then. If Waddy could stand it I guessed I could. So down we goes into a black hole that yawns in the middle of a muddy field.
"Ma," she shouted suddenly, in her shrill, strident treble, "I see Martin comin'." The mother made no answer until the strapping, fourteen-year-old boy, tall and powerful for his age, had deposited his bucket of water at her side. As he drew the back of a tanned muscular hand across his dripping forehead she asked shortly: "What kept you so long?" "The creek's near dry.
The soil was black and deep and the forest magnificent. Great beeches and hickories were mingled with the willows and live oaks and cypresses, and the foliage was thick, green, and beautiful. The birds seemed innumerable, and now and then flocks of wild fowl rose with a whir from the creek's edge. Keen, penetrating odors of forest and wild flower came to their nostrils.
They walked side by side, treading the drenched grass, for the track was too narrow for them both. Maggie's feet dragged, prolonging the moments. A white pointed sail showed through the mist, where the little yacht lay in the river off the mouth of the creek. Steve was in the boat close against the creek's bank, waiting to row Majendie to the yacht.
He clambered along the creek's rough, descending side. He emerged upon an easier slope and then found it possible to climb the hillside to the plane of the great wood. There must, he thought, be food of some sort, even for a man with only Oak's knife in his possession! There was the forest and there were nuts.
Majendie dropped into the boat. Steve pushed off from the bank. Maggie stood there watching them go. She stood till the boat reached the creek's mouth, and Majendie turned, and raised his cap to her; stood till the white sail moved slowly up the river and disappeared, rounding the spit of land.
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