CHAPTER VI.CONCLUSION.
“It was late in the afternoon when I reached the clump of jasmine where I had left my little ones, and though I knew that by this time they were grown-up birds, and possibly had families of their own, I could not help feeling as if I should find them just as I had left them, hungry, noisy, and so glad to see me. It was very still in the thicket, and not a single bird of any kind was to be seen. But this did not surprise me much, for it was the time of day when the old birds would naturally be off after the little ones’ supper. They would soon be coming back, and I thought how delighted Mr. Red would be, and how startled, too, when he found me waiting for him just as I used to do.”
“I reckon he was startled, too,” interrupted the Paroquet. “But pray hurry on. Iwasgetting a little tired, but I’m all attention now. You waited,you say, for Mr. Red to come, and didn’t you go near the old nest till he came?”
“Yes,” returned Mrs. Red, “I went to the nest the first thing, and found it just as I had seen it in my dreams so many times, and right at the bottom, huddled together, were three little ones about the size of mine when I left them. And for an instant I forgot myself and thought theyweremine, and flew down so close to them that they awoke and began to scramble toward the top of the nest and open their mouths as if they were hungry. On the right wing of two of them little brown spots were beginning to show, and then Iknew, and grew sick and faint, and more sorry than I had been since the day I was stolen away, and with such a different kind of sorrow, too.
“Always before in the midst of my sharpest pain there had been a kind of comfort in thinking that Mr. Red remembered and longed for me just as I longed for and remembered him, but now I knew better. Those birds in the nest were not my birds. Spotted-Wing was their mother. I was forgotten; my place was filled; nobody wanted me there, and I felt as if my throat would burst with the lump which kept rising in it.
“And while I waited, sitting high above thenest where I could look down into it, there was a whiz and whir in the air, and Spotted-Wing came home, looking a little older than when I saw her last, but quite as pretty and very happy. I was obliged to own that to myself, as I sat and watched her feeding her young ones, and every now and then turning up her head as if listening for some one. Just so I used to listen and just so I used to act when Mr. Red was coming home, as he did at last, and Spotted-Wing flew out a little way to meet him, and rubbed her bill against his, and kept at his side as he flew so near to me that the air set in motion by his wings stirred my feathers, and I could have touched him had I tried.
“Oh, little did he dream who it was that sat and watched him until it grew dark, and all was still in the dear old nest which was once my home. When I could no longer see him and knew that he was asleep, I said good-by to him forever, and flew away to the palm-tree; where I staid till morning, and then I started down the river, caring nothing where I went or what became of me, and feeling an indescribable longing for the cage I had quitted and the little mistress I had left.
“It was then that I came suddenly upon Robin, who is living near Green Cove Spring, and whowas both astonished and delighted to see me. My face must have told him that I knew the worst, for he only said:
“‘Poor little Reddie, it is rather hard, but it’s the way of the world. I s’pose you didn’t see your own children. One of them is dead, and the others are far up the river, near Enterprise, with families of their own, and as likely birds as you could wish to see. They think you dead, and so does Mr. Red, of course.’
“Both Robin and Motherdy were very kind to me, and I staid with them all that day and night, and they brought me my supper and tried to cheer me up, but nothing can ever make me happy again unless it be to find myself in the cage once more, with Florence and Johnnie to pet me. But even that pleasure is denied me, for when I left Robin I went back to Jacksonville and the hotel, hoping to find my mistress. But she had gone down by the sea, and it is a long way there, and I might get lost, and not find her after all, so I have given it up, and what I shall do with myself now I am sure I don’t know.”
“Do?” repeated the Paroquet, who began to evince a friendliness I had not given him credit for. “Why, make the best of it, of course, and if youare so anxious to find Black-Eyes and Bright-Hair again, go over to St. Augustine after them. It is not so very far: I’ve been there. I know the way. I’ll go with you and start now, to-day, if you like. It’s up the river a ways, and then across the wildest, swampiest piece of country you ever saw. But St. Augustine is lovely—some like that North you are so delighted with, and maybe you will make up your mind to stay there if you do not find the children.”
“And I almost know I shall not,” returned Mrs. Red, who seemed to be quite discouraged, “for how shall I know where to look for them?”
“Look! Why, look everywhere, at all the hotels and boarding-houses, but mostly at the Old Fort and in a square they call the Plaza. Children all like to play there. We shall find them, don’t you fear, so come; it is getting almost noon, and we ought to be off. We will fly across the river first, and then hunt a bug or two for dinner, before we start again, so here goes.” And spreading his beautiful green wings, the Paroquet flew swiftly away, followed by Mrs. Red, who moved more slowly, for she was tired, and had not much heart or courage left.
I was half afraid she would drop into the water, but the Paroquet evidently encouraged her to exertherself as much as possible, and at last I was glad to see that they were fairly over the river, and resting on a live-oak tree. Then I started as from a dream, and wondered if it were really true that I had heard birds talk together, and if poor Reddie would ever find Florence and Johnnie again, and be happy once more. I hoped she would, and that I might know it; and I did, for when the spring came, and, with many other travelers, I started for home on theCity of Savannah, I noticed upon the boat two lovely children, a boy and girl, one with beautiful black eyes, and the other with eyes as blue as the April sky over our heads.Forncethe little boy called his sister, and then I guessed at once I had found Black-Eyes and Bright-Hair, and remembering Mrs. Red I said to the little girl one day:
“Isn’t your name Florence and your brother’s name Johnnie, and don’t you live in Chicago?”
“Why, yes,” she answered, looking curiously at me. “How did you know that?”
“Oh, I guessed it,” I said, and then I added: “Did you ever have a Red-bird in a cage, which you let go one morning?”
“Yes,” she replied; “but I think I have her again. I’m almost sure of it. She is in my stateroom. Don’t you want to see her?”
Of course I wanted to see her, though as Red-birds are much alike, I knew I could not tell if this were the one whose sad story I had heard on Christmas morning. But when Florence told me the particulars of its recapture I was sure of it, and rejoiced that poor little Reddie was happy with its friends, Florence and Johnnie. They were at the Old Fort in St. Augustine one morning, Florence said, and one of the Indians kept as prisoners there, was teaching her how to use the bow and arrow, while Johnnie stood by begging to “soot too,” when suddenly a Red-bird, which seemed to be very tired, flew down at her feet, and kept hopping around close to her, while Johnnie tried to catch it, and the young Indian suggested making it a mark to shoot at. But from this Florence recoiled in horror, and, stooping toward the bird, she said:
“I believe it’s my very own dear old birdie I used to have in a cage. Are you mine, Reddie?” and she held her hands toward it, when Reddie flew up to her shoulder, and caressed her face, and neck, and hair with its bill, nestling close to her, as if it did not wish to be let go again.
So Florence took her back to the hotel where she was stopping, and, bringing out the cage,opened the door and set it before Reddie, who instantly went into it, and springing up to the perch, began to swing back and forth as if perfectly delighted with its quarters; nor could it be tempted to come out of the cage, although the door was left open the entire day.
“Then I knew for sure it was mine,” Florence said, “and that it wanted to come and live with me again; though it is very funny how she found her way here, and why she did not go back to the nest, which I am sure she used to have somewhere in Florida.”
I could have told her what I knew, and made her eyes blacker and larger than they were, but when I remembered the little girls and boys at home who had asked so often for a story which they could understand, I said I’ll wait, and some day when I feel like it I will write it, and so let other children, whose names I do not know, but whom I love because they are children, read the story which I heard the Red-bird tell that Christmas morning when I sat under the magnolia-tree far away in Florida.
THE ENDOFRED-BIRD.
THE ENDOFRED-BIRD.
THE END
OF
RED-BIRD.