Raintree County (148 page)

Once again, Eva had been on the point of running down to the yard, when another amazing thing happened. Her brother Wesley was pulling Professor Stiles' arm and pointing to the Preacher and then to the Widow Passifee. Professor Stiles had raised his cane and, waving it, had shouted in a piercing voice,

—Silence! Silence!

The crowd had quieted down a little, and Wesley had said something else, still pointing at the Widow Passifee and the Preacher. Then Johnny Jacobs had stepped up and vigorously nodded his head and pointed his finger at the Widow and the Preacher. The Preacher began to bellow over and over

—It's a lie! It's a lie!

And Wesley had pulled Libby Passifee out of the crowd of children and had made her admit something.

Professor Stiles had shaken violently, and the crowd had begun to snicker. The Widow Passifee was shaking her finger at her daughter Libby and threatening her some way. Johnny Jacobs had said in a very loud voice,

—He didn't even have his glasses on!

Professor Stiles had shaken soundlessly again, and the crowd had snickered again.

And the whole crowd had begun to shake their heads and laugh and draw away from the Preacher. The Widow Passifee had shrieked something and walked away very fast toward her house. The Preacher had remained in the entrance to the yard, peering from side to side.

Just then, Professor Stiles, who had been pacing briskly back and forth like a trial lawyer in a crowded courtroom, walked decisively down to the gate and began to harangue the crowd. Eva caught the words,

—. . . duped and led astray . . . exciting you to frenzies . . . final act of madness . . . guilty of committing himself!

At this point, the Preacher had flung down his torch and, raising both arms, had bellowed like a bull. He had made a lunge at Mrs. Brown, but Professor Stiles had planted himself in the way and, pointing his malacca cane before him like a fencer, with a single deft motion flipped the Preacher's spectacles into the night. Thereupon several townspeople had thrown themselves upon the Preacher, and the Preacher had butted, lunged, and struck blindly in the darkness. Professor Stiles, remaining well out of danger, had occasionally rapped the Preacher sharply on the head with his cane or jabbed him in the seat of the trousers. So doing, he had appeared to whip the whole struggling mass through the gates, which he promptly slammed to. The Preacher had turned and reared at his assailants and
in spite of blows had broken through and struck fists and head against the iron gates before he realized that they were shut. Then abruptly he had turned and run down the road into Waycross, with short steps, hands open before him like a man half-blind and beset by pestering sprites.

Several people had come up from the road and said something to Eva's father, and some women had come and talked with Mrs. Brown, who kept putting her hands against her cheeks and shaking her head.

Eva's mother had stayed beside her husband the whole time, but she too now went over and said something to Mrs. Brown. Everyone seemed to be very sorry about something, except Professor Stiles, who seemed very happy about something.

Suddenly realizing that the excitement was over, Eva had gone tearing downstairs. She had hunted Wesley and had found out what had happened. It seemed that the Preacher had gone crazy and had come down to accuse their father of doing something bad and being an atheist. Their Grandfather Root's name had been mentioned, and he was mixed up in it some way. Then Wesley had told what the children had seen in the morning, and that had got the Preacher in hot water, and everyone had laughed at him. Wesley was a hero, and so was Johnny Jacobs.

—Just go back to your playing, children, Eva's father had said. In a little while, we'll have those fireworks.

Then the people had gone on back to the town, and the children had started up the game again, and Eva's father and Professor Stiles had gone back to the porch again.

Eva hadn't felt like playing any longer. Instead, she had wandered away again and had come back to the tower and had remained at the window looking out again, wondering if she was missed.

Even now the night was restless with sounds—the last explosions of firecrackers, the last buggies leaving Waycross to go home, the tagends of the Revival crowd breaking up. The night was full of terror and mystery. Always, she had known that the earth of Raintree County was full of dragons breathing fire. She had known too that the dark image of her grandfather would haunt her life. She hadn't quite realized how serious the danger had been until it was over.

As long as there were little children and faithful women around,
her father would be safe, and so long as her father was safe, she would be safe. The voices and the lanterns had advanced even to the gate and had almost broken in, and then they had been driven back; the flickering cane of Professor Stiles had chased them down the road.

Now all was well, and the night was kept from the garden by colored lanterns and by the shrill excitement of the children at their games. The evil ones had been defeated by their own evil.

But she had been touched to see the sadness in her father's eyes, and she wondered if she alone had seen it. In a way, he had looked as though he had anticipated this coming of torches through the night.

If only there would always be gardens where fountains played in summer and drenched the bodies of children tangled in lilies! If only there would always be days of festival excitement! If only she, Eva, could by strength of mind and faith and daring preserve forever the good world of certainties and keep the look of sadness from her father's eyes! If only the long, promiseful days didn't pass away and the good books close, leaving one stranded on vague shores of summer.

—Eva! Eva!

It was the voice of her brother Wesley calling.

She would stay here in the tower.

—Eva!

Let them be calling her. But she would hide. She would go back, small and proud, and stand in beautiful and dark woodlands, in the attitude of one listening. She would wait in the oldest garden of her being until they came and found her. She would possess the wild, lovely secret of the garden, seen only by her.
O, don't you remember, a long time ago . . .

Lost child! O, little heroine of the Eva series, blue-eyed wanderer in fields of summer, little boater on secret lakes (all choked with lilies) and listener to stories! Lost child, discoverer of rivers, listen to the voices calling. Listen to the voices of the callers calling by the lake, where it is always summer and the days are long. Listen, listen to the footsteps of the seekers seeking by the lake. And perhaps you will retrace some portion of the dawn when

The two children got up before any of the other campers and slipped away from the tent. Papa and Mamma were both sound asleep. Wesley had the clothes, and he helped Eva put on her little dress. Wesley was four years old and knew how to do everything. He knew just what to do and led the way down to the pier. It was funny to see the lake all still and the boats beside the lake all empty and no one on the pier and no one walking around the tents. The world had never been so unfull of people before.

—It's dawn, Wesley said. The sun doesn't come up.

It was Wesley's idea about the two of them getting up early and going on a botanical expedition. The teachers all got to go with Papa every day, but Papa wouldn't let Wesley and Eva go. But Wesley knew how to row a boat, and he could take them across the lake, and they could gather leaves and come back before anyone missed them.

Just as they got into the boat, Eva felt sad about Papa lying in the tent asleep, and she had a feeling that if Papa knew what was happening, he wouldn't be pleased. But Wesley was already pushing the boat out into the water, and he had a hard time getting into it, struggling with his feet waving in the water. He got his pants wet, but that was all right and couldn't be helped. The lake was all a funry green, and the lilypads were all flat and green, and the lilies were just beginning to open. Wesley worked hard with the oars. She had never noticed before what a funny sound they made, a lonely, plunking sound when they went into the water.

When the boat reached the other side, Wesley and she got out, and it was too bad because the boat slipped out from under her as she got out, and Wesley tried to catch it, but it floated very slowly out of reach and just lay out in the lake a little way. Eva felt like crying about it, but Wesley said,

—Just leave it be.

They went into the woods together, and Eva kept thinking about the book that she and Wesley used to look at in the bookcase at home.
Through the Dark Continent.

—Ith thith a dungle, Wethley? she asked.

—I guess it is, he said.

Wesley was four years old and knew a lot more about books than she did. But he knew nothing about dolls and didn't even have one.

In the book about the jungle there were big fernleaves and thick trunks and snakes and wild beasts and black men. A white man was looking for another white man, and when they met in the middle of a clearing, they shook hands. Africa.

They kept finding funny leaves and mushrooms and sticks and stones, and after a while there was sunlight in the woods and singing noises and birds flying. Wesley told her to wait for him while he followed a bird. She did wait a long time, and then she went over through some bushes and found a path and walked along it. She stopped once and called,

—Wethley!

She was a little surprised because there weren't any teachers on this side of the lake. Not that she was afraid. She wasn't afraid of anything hardly.

—Eva doesn't have enough sense to be afraid, Papa had said, smiling.

Several times, she came out where there weren't many trees, and it was a good thing she didn't have her shoes on because in places it was very muddy, though the mud felt warm and all sinky and nice. She got clear out of the woods after a while, and wandered around where the sun blazed down on her. She began to get hungry and turned around and started back. Wesley had been gone long enough now to find that bird.

She kept going around and around. The forest was full of strange things. Once she stopped for a long time and watched a frog at the edge of a pool.

She must have wandered around all morning and she was very, very hungry. After a while, she came to a place where the water was very deep, and when she started to wade into it, it went right up over her knees. She backed out of it then, and there was a big yellow and green snake shooting himself around in the water. The biggest flies
she had ever seen in her life would stand still in the air right next to her. Their bodies were like little pencils and their wings all misty. There were lots of turtles plopping, and she tried to catch one, but they were too fast for her.

She always loved to wade, and now she was getting all she wanted. The water was warm and the reeds were very stiff and tall, and there were green things everywhere. The sun shone down so hard that she had to blink her eyes. She kept on going, and once when she looked up, the sun was right overhead, and very small. She wondered what they were doing over on the other side of the lake anyway and if they had missed her. She felt very lonely and hungry and cried for quite a while because she had sat down and got her dress muddy. It was just the same way everywhere she went. She couldn't seem to get out of the muddy places, and just went along walking in the water.

Pretty soon, she came to a place where there were a lot of little trees with slender brown trunks, and the sun was shining down through them, and they were all covered with yellow flowers. She could look right up between them to a bigger tree at the top of a little hill. This was the best place she had found, because the grass was soft under the trees and the ground was dry. She walked up in the soft grass, and when she got to the big tree she sat down there between a couple of big rocks that were sunken in the ground and half-covered with grass. The big tree was like the smaller trees, but it was taller and had a thick trunk. She kept feeling the little yellow flowers touching her hair and face. She was all warm and itchy and tired and hungry, and it was so hot that she thought she would stay there. She lay down in the grass, and it felt good just to shut her eyes because the earth was all warm and a little breeze was blowing up from somewhere, and she could hear a noise of water trickling. Frogs were splashing around and making chunking sounds. Every now and then a big bug whizzed by her. She could hear bees. They said that they made honey out of flowers.

They said that they made honey out of flowers, and in a greenhouse you could see flowers inside a glass. God was up in Heaven where there were many flowers. All the flowers made a murmuring sound as if they were all full of great bees, the earth rocked her, blowing on her hair and eyes, the soft flowers sifted on her face and hair. They said that they made honey out of flowers.

After a while, she got up and found that she had been lying in the grass. She thought then that she had better go home. She felt very hungry and could think of them all eating back home.

The air had a different look now. She couldn't see just where the sun was, but up in the tops of the trees there were rays of light, and she could see the yellow dust sifting down through the rays. The yellow dust was thick in the grass and on the ground. She picked up a handful of it and put it in her little pocket. Her dress had dried and was all stained with leaves and crusted with mud.

She started walking down under the trees. It wasn't the same as when she had come up this way. It showed you how quickly things changed. Now, it was almost dark under the trees. She was terribly thirsty and hungry. If she only had some berries.

She went on down and came to the place where the water was deep again, and she couldn't find a way around it. It was darker now and not a soul anywhere. She was going to cry again. Perhaps she had better go back and lie down and cover herself with leaves like the two little babes, those poor little babes, whose names I don't know. They were carried away on a bright summer's day and lost in the woods as I've heard people say. And lost in the woods. Lost.