Teddy Bears

<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</SPAN></span></p> <h2>CHAPTER VII.<br/> <small>“<i>A Valley So Sweet.</i>”</small></h2> <div> <ANTIMG class="drop-cap" src="images/drop-m.jpg" width-obs="154" height-obs="172" alt="M" /></div> <p class="drop-capi">Mrs. North had decided to drive to a place a few miles distant called the Falls, there to take supper and remain all night.</p> <p>And Mike was on his way to the stables to hitch up, as he called it, when the amazing spectacle just described burst upon his astonished sight. At once he jumped to the conclusion that the goat was trying to make mince-meat of Sally’s beloved Teddy bear. And springing forward—he seized Dick by his horns, yanked him to his feet and drove him off to the stables. Then returning he picked up Bedelia, no longer pirouetting like a ballet girl, but suddenly grown mute and stiff, and carried her to the kitchen, where Mrs. Hale took her in charge.</p> <p>The children were now in a flutter of excitement over the proposed trip to the Falls. Sally insisted on taking Peter Pan, and presently they were all comfortably stowed away in a springy country carriage, rolling along toward the Falls.</p> <p>Mike, who had been born and brought up in that part of the country, made a most interesting courier and stopped now and then to<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</SPAN></span> point out with his whip some place of especial interest, which he at once proceeded to describe in whimsical language all his own. For the Irish strain in his blood had gifted him with both wit and humor and there was very little of the comical side of things that Mike did not discover.</p> <div class="figright"> <ANTIMG src="images/illus053.jpg" width-obs="204" height-obs="229" alt="sitting teddy bear" /></div> <p>But the climax of all interest was finally reached when Mike pointed out a gently swelling hill topped by a lofty oak, at the summit of which he declared was the grave of Cuyahoga, the great Indian chief, from whom the beautiful valley and laughing river both had been named.</p> <p>Further on they struck the Indian trail along which the savages portaged their canoes from the Cuyahoga to the Tuscarawas rivers.</p> <p>Miss Palmer, who was sentimental, drew forth a pencil and tablet, and proceeded pensively to jot down her poetic impressions, while Peter Pan whispered very slyly to Bob that his friend, the crow, whose name was Tim, had come along, although not invited. And sure enough there he was, roosting comfortably and unobserved on the tail-board of the wagon.</p> <p>So the happy little party proceeded on their leisurely way through<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</SPAN></span> the lovely country, beautiful with “the new green and the stress of spring,” until suddenly as they swung around a curve in the road, the great gorge of the Cuyahoga lay spread out before them in all its majestic grandeur.</p> <p>Here through a great chasm rent in the walls of living rock by some mighty convulsions of Nature leaped the mystic river, clothed in her sheen of sparkling foam as a maid in her bridal veil. Dimpling and murmuring, it pursued its sparkling way over the rocks that lined its bed, murmuring in its shallows, thundering at last over the mighty Falls, and from thence tumbling into a sun kissed, mossy basin from which it wound away, a placid stream laughing and whispering into the blue distance.</p> <p>The children had stood up to obtain a better view and Bob reverently removed his cap, seized by the same feeling that always moved him when he stood in church and saw the vested choir sweep up the aisle bearing at their head the great golden cross.</p> <p>Miss Palmer fell to writing poetry more briskly than before and Tim, who was now perched comfortably on the back of the seat, leaned over and whispered to Peter Pan that it was a great place for worms.</p> <p>To reach their destination was now a matter of but a few moments, and as the drive had not been long enough to tire them, the children, under the guidance of Mike, departed for a walk along the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</SPAN></span> river and a visit to the Old Maid’s Kitchen, a queer cave in the vicinity that took its name from a natural fireplace of rock which it contained.</p> <p>Mrs. North went indoors to arrange for suitable rooms and Miss Palmer retired to a secluded corner of the piazza to polish up her verses to Cuyahoga. And so it happened that Peter Pan and Tim were left to their own devices, which opportunity they improved by promptly falling asleep. It was evident that they intended to get busy later on.</p> <p>At supper time the children returned flushed and enthusiastic over the wonders that they had unearthed. They had investigated the Old Maid’s Kitchen and Bob thought it would be a bully place to eat luncheon on the following day. They had walked along the river bank and at a point a good deal further up had been ferried across by a little old man with a beard like Rip Van Winkle in a little old boat that was propelled by an endless chain. They had found trailing arbutus hiding away under last year’s leaves and red partridge berries and shy dog-tooth violets and Bob’s pockets were full of treasures of more or less doubtful value, but all dear to his quaint little soul.</p> <p>And oh, how hungry they were, and what a supper they disposed of.</p> <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/illus056.jpg" width-obs="488" height-obs="618" alt="Children, bear and bird looking at Indians in distance in forest" /> <div class="caption">After him followed his countless braves.</div> </div> <p>Tired as they were after their long ramble they begged Miss Palmer to read aloud her poem before they went to sleep. And after a<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</SPAN></span> little coaxing, which was warmly joined in by Mrs. North, Miss Palmer produced her tablets and read aloud these lines.</p> <div class="poetry-container"> <div class="poetry"> <div class="center">TO CUYAHOGA.</div> <div class="verse">He sleeps on the hillside’s grassy slope,</div> <div class="verse">Who once was a king in the land;</div> <div class="verse">And few can point out his lonely bed,</div> <div class="verse">Unmarked save by Nature’s hand;</div> <div class="verse">The blue waters ripple, the sweet valley smiles,</div> <div class="verse">The valley that bears his name,</div> <div class="verse">And serenely he rests, tho’ his unknown grave</div> <div class="verse">Is unmarked by the laurels of fame.</div> </div></div> <p>Mrs. North was greatly pleased and surprised by the impromptu lines and both children declared their intention of learning them by heart, after which there were kisses all round and the little folks trotted serenely off to slumberland.</p> <p>The house stood upon a high cliff overlooking the valley, its banks sloping sharply down to the water’s edge. And the children never knew how they came, hours after, to be scrambling down the steep path, hand in hand, with Peter Pan hurrying on in front and Tim, the crow, flapping and hopping alongside.</p> <p>Silently they hastened on, impelled by an unspoken fear of being late, for what they knew not.</p> <p>Presently they reached the foot of the hill and paused in the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</SPAN></span> shadow of the great trees that lined the fruitful banks of the river.</p> <p>It was a gorgeous night. The full moon, pouring her silver light through a fretwork of leaf and twig overhead, wove patterns of fancy laces on the grass below. Not a leaf quivered. Not a breath stirred the sleeping vale of Cuyahoga.</p> <p>Suddenly all the valley glowed as with a silver flame. And out of the heart of it rose a column of light, rainbow hued but pale as moonlight, indistinct as a moonlight mist.</p> <p>Slowly it advanced through the silver flame, with a slightly swaying motion, rhythmical as the steps of an armed host. And then the children, watching spellbound, but not at all afraid, for it all seemed to be perfectly a matter of course, just as much so as it had become quite the thing to hear Peter Pan sit up and talk, began to distinguish shadowy forms, to hear strange music, and the dull throbbing of tom-toms.</p> <p>Nearer swept the unknown company, headed by one of kindly bearing, clothed in blanket and fringed leggings, with moccasins embroidered with wampum and quills of porcupine, with eagle feathers in his hair and tomahawk at his belt, and after him followed his countless braves, stepping noiselessly, moving silently in the wake of the leader. So they passed and vanished and Bob knew that he had looked upon the great chief who for countless years had slept in the windy hilltop in the shadow of the lonely oak.</p> <p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</SPAN></span></p> <p>So, set in a frame of silver sheen, the vision faded into the moonlit mystery of the night.</p> <p>Thus does the great Spirit of Love and Good open the eyes of innocence and purity to the infinite wonders of Nature, the visions of the night watches, the language of the dear dumb creatures, the voices that breathe from the souls of flowers. And the children awe-stricken but wholly unafraid, hand in hand, sought the homeward way.</p> <p>At the threshold of Sally’s room they kissed and separated, Tim hopping along in Bob’s wake, and perching familiarly on the foot-board of his bed. And Bob’s last waking recollection was of the bird, standing sleepily on one claw, his eyes shut and his beak sunk in his feathers, while he croaked in a drowsy little note, “What a place for worms.”</p> <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/illus060.jpg" width-obs="112" height-obs="65" alt="decoration" /></div> <hr class="chap" /></div> <div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />