FOOTNOTES:

Fig. 29.—Spite and His Pixie Friends make Merry Over Rodney's Capture.Fig.29.—Spite and His Pixie Friends make Merry Over Rodney's Capture.

"What's in the wind, now?" muttered Spite. "That beast of a Bruce is at the bottom of it, I warrant." But none of them seemed seriously to expect an attack. The Brownie camp had been quiet all day. Their Captain was known to be absent; their Commodore was a prisoner; there had been no sign of any unusual stir.

Up in the orchard where she swung impatiently among the tree tops, good Madam Breeze heard the same call.

"Ah! there it goes at last. Thank our star for that. What! Whirlit, Whisk, Keener and all the rest of you, do you hear? Up and away—away! Oo—oo—Ooh!"

The Brownies were crouched in the grass, every nerve strained to the utmost, every eye fixed eagerly upon their leader, awaiting the word of command. It came at last. Bruce dropped his whistle, drew his broadsword, and shouted the welcome word, "Charge!"

With a wild hurrah the column closed in upon the lodge, MacWhirlie leading one wing, Pipe the other, and Bruce at the head of the axmen leading the centre.

It was a complete surprise. The guard of Pixies broke, parting to right and left. One squad fell into the hands of the sailors and were all slain. The others fared little better with MacWhirlie and his troopers. The door gave way before the strokes that the Captain and his pioneers rained upon it, and Rodney with his boy in his arms sprang out. Three times three hearty cheers rang in the evening air as the brave hearted sailor came forth a free man.

"Brother Rodney," said Captain Bruce, "there is not even time for greeting. Send your boy to the rear. Take command of your men. We are to charge the whole Pixie camp and fort. Madam Breeze is behind us. You know the rest. Forward!"

FOOTNOTES:[S]Appendix,Note A.

[S]Appendix,Note A.

HOW THE FORT WAS SAVED.

By this time the Pixies in the main camp had recovered from their surprise. The Brownies' battle-cry "Rescue" showed plainly the object of the assault. The Pixies were used to war's alarms; and, as for their leader, Spite, lack of promptness and skill was not among his faults. Therefore Rodney had scarcely been set free ere Spite had his followers in line. However, he did not expect an attack upon himself, for he fancied that the Brownies had been too much cowed lately to venture upon the offensive. He thought they would be satisfied with rescuing Rodney, and would then retreat, and that he determined to prevent.

"Come, my lads," he shouted, "we must not let these creatures escape us this time. Teach them what it is to break into a Pixie camp. Fall on them! Give no quarter; spare no one, let your battle-cry be 'Death!'" He ran to the front as he spoke, shaking in one hand a poisoned dart and holding in the other his war club.

Fig. 30.—Elf Whirlit Comes to the Rescue of Captain Bruce.—(Illustration by Dan. C. Beard.)Fig.30.—Elf Whirlit Comes to the Rescue of Captain Bruce.—(Illustration by Dan. C. Beard.)

The Pixies followed keenly enough, shouting their terrible watchword. But their confidence was dashed as they saw the Brownies, so far from retreating, actually forming their line of battle in front of the demilune. The Pixies paused at this sight. Even Spite hesitated a moment. In that moment a shower of arrows rained upon them from the Brownie bows. Then with a ringing cheer the brave fairies charged. The two columns closed. Above the clash of weapons and clamor of battle were heard ever and anon the voices of the Pixiessounding the war cry "Death," and the cheery tenor of the Brownies answering with the sweet word "Rescue."

The leaders of the two parties were in the thickest of the fight. Spite was well seconded by his two lieutenants, Heady and Hide, and the rank and file of the Pixies behaved valiantly. The Brownies had gained much by their first onset upon the picket line and outposts, but, on the other hand were far the weaker party. It were hard to say which army might have won the fight had they been left to themselves; but this was not to be. Madam Breeze swept down upon the struggling lines. For a moment she hovered over the battle confused and angry at the prospect.

"Why, what can I do?" she cried. "Here, Whirlit, Keener, Bluster—you rogues, stop I say! Don't you see?—hoogh! You can do nothing against the Pixies without injuring the Brownies. They're so mixed together that I can scarce tell one from the other."

Whirlit had already thrown himself into the midst of the fight. He espied Captain Bruce and bounded to his side. Two great Pixies were rushing upon the Captain with uplifted spears, and wide open mouths from which terrible fangs were thrust. With one puff of his keen breath Whirlit sent both these warriors spinning and tumbling in the dust.

"Thanks!" cried the Captain, "That was a kindly service right bravely done." Whirlit threw himself over and over again as a token of his satisfaction, and then said:

"Madam awaits your orders. She fears to mix in the fight lest she may do more harm than good. What shall we do? Make haste, please, the old lady is very much excited and won't wait long. She'll be in mischief if—"

"Silence, Sir!" said the Captain sternly. "Don't speak in such terms of your mistress. Tell Madam Breeze with my compliments, to knock over the Pixie camp, houses and fort, and leave the enemy themselves to us."

"Whew!" whistled Whirlit as he leaped into the air. "A peppery Brownie, that! Served me right, however."

He found Madam Breeze almost bursting with anger, confusion, anxiety, excitement and the exertion of self-restraint.

"You imp of ingratitude!" she began, "how could you dare—"

"Madam," cried Whirlit, interrupting her, "the Captain says, with his compliments, you will please knock over the Pixie camp, tents, houses, fort and all!"

Madam's brow cleared in a moment. "That I will," she answered in her usual jovial tones. "Hie—away, my hearties! come, come now! 'Blow, ye winds, and crack your cheeks!'"

Thereupon Madam Breeze and her company fell upon the Pixie camp. The breastwork or demilune that had been woven around the outer bounds was leveled in an instant. Then the clamorous crew fell upon the circle of huts and tents that stood next within. It was not so easy work here.

"Whoop!" shouted Whirlit, as he threw himself, with full force, back foremost, against one of the broad canvas sides. "Ugh!" was the next exclamation heard from him as he bounded back like an india-rubber ball and fell sprawling among tent pins and ropes.

"Ho, ho, ho!" The merry laugh of Madam Breeze rolled out through the hurly-burly at this discomfiture of her page. "Try it again, Whirlie, it's easily done,you know! You'd make a fine base ball, now, wouldn't you? Ha, ha!"

Whirlit did try again; then Whisk and Bluster and Keener; and last of all Madam Breeze threw her round body against the tent. The ropes snapped, the walls tumbled together, and in a trice the noisy Breezes had sent ropes, canvas, and poles streaming away into the air, broken into a hundred pieces.[T]

One after another the Pixies' dens, nests, tents, huts, barns and storehouses shared the same fate at the hands of the busy wreckers. In a few moments the ruins of the camp were scattered in confused heaps upon the earth, or were floating off upon the wings of the storm. The females, or Pixinees, who with their broods of young had been left in possession of the camp, at first showed fight. But they soon saw that resistance was vain, and fled into the fort, where they hid themselves in the sheltered corners and angles, or cowered against the lee side of pebbles, leaves, clumps of grass, and the various rubbish that littered the ground.[U]

All this time, the conflict was raging between the Brownies and Pixies outside the barricade. Great as was the clamor raised at the overthrow of the camp, the noise of battle was so loud and the feelings of the combatants so intense, that none knew what havoc Madam Breeze was making. A lad ran into the rear line of the Pixie troops calling for the chief.

"Back to your mother, boy," was the gruff response, "and leave the battle to warriors."

"But mother has fled into the fort. The house is broken down. The camp is attacked. The barricades are leveled. Everything is ruined. I must see the Captain."

The evil tidings rapidly spread, and even before it reached the chief the line began to waver, and fall back toward the camp. Spite fell into a towering rage when the message was brought to him. He cursed Madam Breeze. He cursed the Pixie who stopped the messenger, and thus caused the bad news to spread. He cursed Bruce and the Brownies. He cursed his own eyes, also, although he might have saved himself that trouble, for they had never been a blessing to anybody.

"But cursing won't mend matters, Chief," said Lieutenant Hide. "The fort still stands; we can fall back to that, and save what we may."

"Drummer, sound the retreat," cried Spite; "and Hide, do you fall back with the right wing to the fort. Orderly, bid Lieutenant Heady take command and cover the retreat. Tell him to fight every inch of ground."

Then Spite turned upon his heels and hurried to the rear. In truth, he was not sorry for an excuse to withdraw from the fight. He stumbled over the ruins of the camp at every step. It was a complete wreck. Not a tent, not a building of any kind remained, except the fort, to which he bent his course. It was a huge structure, as we have seen, braced and strengthened by every art and effort at the Pixies' command. But Spite's heart failed him as he looked around, and saw how everything else in camp had vanished away before the mighty breath of his adversaries.

"See!" he exclaimed, "Madam Breeze and her train have just attacked the fort. Will it hold out, I wonder?" With this thought in mind he hurried forward.

Keener saw him coming, and recognized him at once. "There comes Spite the Spy!" he shouted. "At him, boys! let us toss him in one of his own sticky blankets!"

"Aye, aye," answered Whisk, "suppose we fling him over the horns of the moon, and let him—"

"Let him stick there," cried Whirlit, finishing the sentence. Whereat the trio pounced pell-mell upon the Pixie chief.

"Very well, my lads," exclaimed Madam Breeze, "you're quite welcome to a monopoly of the old beast. Phooh! How he smells of poison! He well nigh takes my breath. Fort smashing suits me better." With these words she threw herself against the Agalena wing of Fort Spinder. Every cord and canvas in it shook with the violence of the onset. But it was unbroken. Again and again the stout Elf cast herself against the walls; the cords creaked and seemed about to part, but so elastic were they that they swayed inward with a heavy surge and then back again. The weeds, blades of grass and twigs to which the ropes and beams were fastened bent under the weight of the blast, but were unbroken.

All this time Spite was struggling with the three Elves. They pinched his skin, they plucked at his cheek, mouth and nostrils. They almost blinded him with blasts which they cast full into his eyes. They pulled his clothes, and held him by the limbs. But he kept on his path. Stoutly, stubbornly he fought his way step by step until he stood at last before the gate of the fort. He was seen at once, and a dozen of the inmates ran forward to admit him.

"Not for your lives!" he shouted. "Don't leave a crack open, if you can help it, for these blusterers to enter. It would be ruin to open the gate."

He looked around him. Hide and his party were still a goodly distance away. He could hear above the voices of the storm the rousing cheers of the Browniesas they pressed more and more closely upon Heady, who was doggedly giving way, disputing every inch of ground. Whirlit, Whisk and Keener had left him, at the beck of Madam Breeze, and now joined that lusty Elf in their assaults upon Fort Spinder.

"What is done, must be done quickly," thought Spite. "May all the furies seize the old monster! She has broken a breach in the roof. See! the garrison, aided by the women and children, are doing bravely. There; that villain Keener has cut his way to the inside of Fort Agalena. And there go Whisk and Whirlit after him. How the walls sway back and forth! The roof bulges upward. The reprobates! They are trying to break through the roof. If they do that and Madam Breeze gets in, all is lost; away will go the whole building with a crash. What shall I do? If we could only anchor the roof! But there's no ballast about. Hide and his men are far away yet. Confusion seize them! Why aren't they here now?"

It was a trying moment for the interests of the Pixies. All seemed to turn upon the fate of the fort; and that to depend upon one person. But that person was Spite the Spy, and he had never yet been wholly without resources. Hopeless as the case appeared, he was equal to the emergency. He would save the fort if it could be saved! He jumped from the weed-top which he had mounted for better observation, and plunged into the midst of the ruins of the camp. He stopped before a pebble almost the size of his own body.

"That will do, I think," he muttered. He seized the stone, twisted a cable around it, and dragged it away toward the fort. It was but a moment's work to climb upon an overhanging weed, fasten the cable to a branch and swing the stone over upon the roof. The canvassheet sank downward under the pebble's weight. Spite watched it with keen interest. The elastic stuff swayed upward and downward several times, and seemed about to settle firmly, when Whirlit leaped upward against it with his strong shoulders. The pebble flew off the roof, spinning through the air close to the head of the Pixie chief, who looked on from his perch among the leaves.

"Failure!" muttered Spite.

"Try again, old fellow!" shouted Whirlit from the inside, where he was capering in high good humor above the heads of the enraged inmates.

Fig. 31.—"He Jumped from the Weed Top."Fig.31.—"He Jumped from the Weed Top."

"Good advice," Spite responded with feigned cheerfulness; "I will try again. And succeed next time, too!"

A mocking laugh followed him as he swung himself down the weed by his rope ladder, and hurried off again into the ruined camp. On—on—on! He stopped at last.

"This is it—the very thing. But, can I manage it?" He stood before a broken twig as thick as his own body and five or six times as long as himself. Think of a man carrying a log as thick as himself and twenty-five or thirty feet long! That was something like the feat that Spite undertook.

"But I can do it," he said; "Imustdo it!" Theenergy and strength of despair were upon him. He seized the beam with his long arms, bowed himself to the burden and lifted it. Tottering with the weight, and stumbling over the debris of the desolate village, he laid down the beam at last at the foot of the tall weed.

The Boy's Illustration. Fig. 32.—Spite the Spy Climbs a Weed to Reconnoitre.The Boy's Illustration.Fig.32.—Spite the Spy Climbs a Weed to Reconnoitre.

The task was not ended. He twisted a cable around the log and mounted into the foliage. He stood a hundred times his own height above the weight he wished to lift. Would he ever get it up? We shall see! He hauled upon his rope until it was stretched to its utmost. Then one end of the stick slowly rose above the earth; up—up—until the other end was in the air. See! it swings quite free. It is rising higher and higher. Hand over hand, the strong and patient workman is drawing the beam slowly and surely toward the top of the plant.[V]

Madam Breeze began to be concerned about this new effort of Spite's. A few more stout assaults and the roof must give way dragging with it walls and all.

But what if Spite should manage to get his great log anchor on it? It would hold the roof so steady that no power at her command could move it. Moreover, it would bear the roof down toward the ground, and so prevent Whirlit, Keener, and Whisk from breaking through by stretching the elastic cords upward until they snapped. They could make no headway by pressing downward since the earth stayed the cords in that direction. And how could they heave the roof upward with a great log lying on it?

"I don't want to begin this affair all over again," quoth Madam Breeze, "for in sooth, I'm pretty well out of breath now—wheeze! A few more turns will use me up. Therefore, my good Mr. Spite, I fear that I must interfere with this logging business of yours."

So saying, she flung herself upon the beam, as it hung far up in the air, slowly mounting to its place. It swayed up and down a moment, as an object fastened to an elastic thread will do, and then—crash! the rope snapped, and the log fell to the ground.

Not a whit discouraged by this disaster, Spite looped the end of the cable over the weed, and before Madam had fairly got her breath again, he had made fast the log, reascended the bush, and was pulling might and main upon the rope.

He had his reward. There was no second breaking of the cable, although Madam Breeze threw her weight upon the log. It reached its position. It hung nearly over the roof. Spite tied the rope, crept out upon the branch, reached down to the log, and with one push of his long arm swung it inward and over the roof. At the same time he cut the cable. The log dropped to its place. The roof that had been bulging out, just readyto burst, sank into its true position. The walls were anchored now. The fort was saved![W]

Madam Breeze gathered all her strength for a last onset. Whirlit, Whisk, and Keener on the inside vigorously seconded her attempt. But it failed.

Fig. 33.—A Spider Drawing up a Swathed Grasshopper to its Leafy Den, "Hand Over Hand."Fig.33.—A Spider Drawing up a Swathed Grasshopper to its Leafy Den, "Hand Over Hand."

"Well, well," said Madam, "I give it up! I'm out of breath—clear blowed—hoogh! I've scarce wind enough to get home with—wheeze! Come out of that, lads. Our work is done for to-day."

The three Elves crept, rather crestfallen, out of the opening in the roof made by the pebble, and the whole party without more ado, or another word, puffed back to Lone Aspen. Spite sat upon the branch and watched their departure. He rubbed his hands, and said, "Aha!" He knew that he had done a deed that would gain him glory among the Pixies. That was pleasant; but after all, that which pleased him best was the thought that he had saved a Pixie fort from which to plot and war against the good Brownies.

Yes, my dears, one may be clever, wise and accomplished, but very, very bad withal. As poet Burns truly sang:

"The heart aye's the part ayeThat maks us right or wrang."

Fig. 34.—An Orbweb with a Pebble Counterpoise.Fig.34.—An Orbweb with a Pebble Counterpoise.

Hide and his company of Pixies came up to the fort soon after Madam Breeze and her retainers had gone. The south gate was thrown open, and the inmates ran out and mingled with their friends, loudly praising the deed by which Spite had saved the fort. The hero of all this praise sat quietly on his perch resting, surveying the field, and thinking. He had need of his wisest thoughts; for the victorious Brownies were already beyond the outer line of the demilune, steadily driving Heady and his division before them.

Spite dropped to the ground by the cable that still swung upon the bush. "Go back into the fort," he said to the fugitives. "Your own homes are gone, and that will be the safest place for you now. As for us," addressing the soldiers, "we must make a last stand here and keep it. The sun is nearly down. If wecan hold the position for a little longer, night will bring relief, and give time for some plan that shall change the fortune of battle. Advance!"

The line moved forward to support Heady. The site of the fort was well chosen for defence. It stood upon a swelling height of the lake shore, with a space of smooth grass in front. On this little plain, a short distance beyond the height, at Spite's command the Pixies began putting up a breastwork. They wrought rapidly, weaving together grass blades, leaves and twigs, and spinning between them ropes and webs. Spite, himself, with a few of the ablest warriors went to assist Heady in holding back the Brownies. The plan succeeded; by the time the fighting force was ready to fall back, the workers had thrown up a rampart behind which the entire army retreated in good order. A series of skirmishes began along the line of breastworks, but the evening shadows soon fell and separated the combatants.

Fig. 35.—How a Spider Drops to the Ground.Fig.35.—How a Spider Drops to the Ground.

The Brownies were in fine spirits. They were confident of complete victory on the morrow. A line of cavalry pickets, under Lieutenant MacWhirlie, was posted throughout the plain, which skirted nearly three-fourths of the knoll on which the fort stood. These pickets were ordered to keep moving the whole night, thus keeping strict guard upon the Pixies at the points whence they were most likely to make a sally or seek to escape. Sentinels were also placed on the lake side or rear of the fort. In that quarter the bank sloped toward the lake, and was dotted with bushes that straggled singly and in clumps to the water's edge. Soon the camp fires and lanterns of the Brownie army were glimmering along the outer border of the plain and through the copse by the lake side. They looked like fire-flies dancing among the boughs, and indeed they were encaged fire-flies, or bits of fox-fire from decayed stumps. As the whole country was now open to Captain Bruce, he had no trouble in securing supplies for his troops, so that the Brownies went to the night's rest or duty with refreshed bodies as well as hopeful spirits.

Fig. 36.—"Weaving Together Grass, Leaves and Twigs."Fig.36.—"Weaving Together Grass, Leaves and Twigs."

Matters were not so pleasant with the Pixies. The provisions laid up within Fort Spinder were not abundant, and Spite had to order all to be put upon short rations. Moreover, their hunting ground was quite limited, of course, and the game on which they were used to prey had been frightened off by the late commotions. However, the lights from the watch fires of their enemies drew some unwary and over curious night wanderers within the confines of the fort, and the hungry Pixies were able to catch a few of them. As for Spite, their chief, he was silent and moody. After mounting the guards, and giving necessary orders, he threw himself upon the ground, wrapped his blanket around him and began to think. We shall learn the fruits of his plotting, by and by.[X]

FOOTNOTES:[T]Appendix,Note A.[U]Note B.[V]Appendix,Note C.[W]Appendix,Note D.[X]Appendix,Note E.

[T]Appendix,Note A.

[U]Note B.

[V]Appendix,Note C.

[W]Appendix,Note D.

[X]Appendix,Note E.

THE SANITARY CORPS.

In the centre of the Brownie camp were three large tents, the officers' headquarters, the hospital tent, and the marquée of the Sanitary Corps. These were wrought out of large leaves, deftly stretched upon frames, with edges overlapping like a tiled roof, and anchored to the ground by small pebbles, heaps of sand, and by tent pins of thorns or splinters.

Fig. 37.—The Hospital Tent and Marquée of the Sanitary Corps.Fig.37.—The Hospital Tent and Marquée of the Sanitary Corps.

The Headquarters' tent was occupied by the chief officers, Bruce, Rodney, MacWhirlie and Pipe. The Hospital tent was devoted to the sick and wounded. But one would not easily imagine who were the occupants of the Sanitary tent; we shall therefore lift the door of the marquée, and peep within.

It is a snug place. In the centre, well up toward the roof, a large fox-fire lantern hangs from the ridge polewhich sheds a soft light throughout the interior. A strong odor of herbs and ointments fills the place, the reason for which soon appears. Four wee Brownie women are busy with retorts, jars, boxes, lint, bandages, and various other articles of the healing art.

The oldest of the party, judged by our human standard, has reached that uncertain boundary of womanhood which divides maiden from matron. One might venture to call her an "old maid" Brownie, and perhaps she would not deny it, for that is a class—God bless them!—whom the Brownies dearly love. But no one could aver that the fairy woman had suffered loss of charms by advance in life. One glance into her face shows how pure, gentle and good must be the disposition that has wrought the tracery of such sweet expression around her features. Her name is Agatha; she is the only child of Captain Bruce, and one does not wonder, having once seen her, that even the Brownies call her Agatha the Good. She is spreading upon tiny bandages out of a tiny jar some kind of ointment, the recipe for which you may be sure is in none of our dispensaries, but which the Brownies call Lily Balm.

The young Brownie who attends her, not as handmaid but companion, is called Grace. Her face is such a goodly one, her manners are so gentle, easy and winning, her every movement so graceful, delicate and yet so full of life, that we shall not be surprised to hear you say: "Surely, she must be the Fairy Queen herself!"

At the other end of the tent, kneeling over a brazier filled with coals, is the third member of the Sanitary Corps. She holds above the coals a retort, in which she is distilling Lily Balm. Her back is toward us and her face is hidden. There! you have caught a glimpse of it as she turned her head to speak to her companion. Thecheeks are flushed, the eyes are bright with the glow of the coals, there is an earnest, pitiful look in their deep blue that speaks of thought intent upon present duty. But there is also a strange light therein, a light as from some far away world, that throws an air of mystery around this person and bids your thoughts pause reverently as they run on in judgment concerning her. This is Faith, the daughter of Rodney the Commodore. She is young as the Brownies count years, and was born "at sea," that is, upon the Lake Katrine of Brownieland, through which flows the Rivulet at the foot of the Orchard.

Fig. 38.—A Peep Inside the Sanitary Tent. Faith Distilling Lily-Balm.Fig.38.—A Peep Inside the Sanitary Tent. Faith Distilling Lily-Balm.

At Faith's side is her companion and friend, Sophia, the daughter of Pipe, the Boatswain. There is a mixture of boldness and shyness in her manner that strikes one at once. Her movements have the snap and positiveness of a practical woman. Her eyes sparkle with intelligence; there is in them a keen, questioning look which tells that she loves not only to know, but to know the reason why. If she were not a Brownie you would probably say she was a pushing sort of person; that you scarcely could decide whether she was more curious or sincere, more dreamy or practical, more skeptical or credulous. But that she is beautiful you would not hesitate to say. She is busy among the herbs, sorting them, making ready material for Faith's retort.

Now that you have seen this Sanitary Corps, and learned their names, you may drop the door of the tent and we shall go on with the story.

"Come, Grace, we have done quite enough for the present," said Agatha. "Bring the bandages and let us go to the Hospital. Have you lint and balm in your satchel? Very well. That is all we need now. Faith, hadn't you better leave off distilling, and help us for a while with the dressing?"

"Yes; if you wish it," answered Faith, "and we can stop now as well as not."

The pots and herbs were set aside, and Faith and Sophia followed Agatha and Grace through the rear door of the marquée. They crossed into the Hospital under a covered way that united the two tents. The Hospital was a spacious tent, or rather several large tents or marquées, joined in one. Along each side on the rude cots hastily made from dried grass and leaves, lay a number of wounded Brownies. The sufferers turned their eyes upon the Nurses as they entered, andat once their faces lit up with pleasure. Agatha and her friends went from couch to couch carrying the blessings of their healing art. Some of the men had hurts that had not yet been dressed. These were first carefully washed. The lint, which the Nurses carried in their satchels, was laid upon the wound to absorb the poison, and the balm applied.

Fig. 39.—The Jaws and Fangs.Fig.39.—The Jaws and Fangs.

A Pixie uses his fangs, when fighting at close quarters, with terrible effect. His mouth is a tremendous piece of machinery. The jaws are each armed with a sharp, movable fang, pierced near its end. When the Pixie bites, a poisonous fluid flows through this hole into the wound.[Y]In battle with Brownies the Pixies try to come to close quarters. Being much larger and more powerful, they seize them in their hairy arms, strike their fangs into them, and spring back quickly out of reach of the Brownie's sharp sword or axe. All this is done so rapidly, that often ere the victim has time to strike a blow he has been wounded and cast down, and his assailant is out of reach. The poison leaves a painful wound in the Brownie's flesh, frequently disabling, but never killing him unless the heart be reached. Indeed, no Brownie ever perished by any form of violence except drowning, suffocation or a heart stroke.

For the hurt made by Pixie fangs the Lily Balm made by the Sanitary Corps is a sure remedy. Ifapplied at once upon soft lint, which absorbs the poison, the relief is immediate. But in any case it will ease the pain, and in the end cure the wound.

The uses of this balm, and all the services which the sick require, were well known by Agatha and her aids. They always followed the army; no risk or toil was shunned by them upon their noble mission. They were the wards of the nation, and the favorites of the army. Moreover, for why should we keep it a secret? every one of them was dearly beloved by a worthy youth, who had the joy of being loved in return.

Fig. 40.—The Poison Bag and Fang.Fig.40.—The Poison Bag and Fang.

The four Nurses made the round of the Hospital, visited every couch, and applied or ordered needed remedies. At the end of the tent was a group of Brownies, with wounds which required treatment, but were not serious enough to hinder from duty. Their hurts were quickly cared for, and one after another the party dropped out until only one was left. He was a tall, shapely youth, who stood within the shadow of the gangway with his face muffled in a cloak. As the last of the group was dismissed from the Nurses' hands he stepped forward into the light, dropped his cloak, saluted the Nurses, and advancing to Sophia's side held out toward her his left arm. The sleeve had been ripped up, and a blood-stained bandage surrounded the forearm. Sophia's cheeks grew pale, and she uttered a low cry of alarm.

"Why, Sophie," exclaimed the youth, "what has possessed you? One would think you had never seen blood before. Come, my good lass, it is only a scratch,and a few drops of your Lily Balm will make it all right."

Fig. 41.—Sophia Dressing Sergeant True's Wounded Arm.Fig.41.—Sophia Dressing Sergeant True's Wounded Arm.

Sophia now found voice. "What a fright you gave me! Are you sure that you are not badly hurt, True? Quick! let me undo the bandage." The blood came back to her cheeks which now were hot and flushed. Her fingers trembled as she clipped the bandages with the scissors that hung at her belt, bathed the wound, and tenderly laid on lint and balm. Sophia was one of the best and most impartial of nurses; but it must be confessed that her fingers passed more gently over that swollen arm; that her eyes had a more pitiful look uponthat hurt; that she lingered longer about the details of bathing, anointing and bandaging that wound than she had done in any other case. Do you blame her?

And Sergeant True was a model patient. Indeed he seemed quite to enjoy his wound, or at least the treatment of it. Agatha, after a few kind inquiries, had busied herself in giving instructions to the ward nurses and watchers. Faith and Grace had withdrawn to their own tent.

"I am glad you came to me, True," said Sophia as the last stitch was taken in the bands, and the sleeve was being gently fastened to its place.

"Didn't I wait, just to make sure of that?" answered the Sergeant. "Why, it is almost worth while to get a scratch like this for the pleasure of having you doctor it with those canny fingers of yours. Many thanks!"

"But I don't care to practice my art on you, remember! Good bye!"

The words were spoken in the gangway as the handsome Sergeant passed out, and—though it is by no means certain,—something very like the sound of a kiss followed close upon them.

"Good bye!"

Ah, how many times the words are uttered on the border of shadows that shall pall loving hearts. It is well that good-byes can be said in happy ignorance of the morrow.

FOOTNOTES:[Y]Appendix,Note A.

[Y]Appendix,Note A.

NIGHT WATCHES.

The four Brownie maidens were once more together in their own quarters. There was little said for a long time. The meeting between Sophia and her lover had awakened tender and anxious thoughts in the hearts of all. Agatha was following in imagination the agile form of Lieutenant MacWhirlie, as he went the grand rounds of his pickets. The thoughts of Faith were with Adjutant Blythe who, somewhere in camp or field, served at the Captain's side, his faithful squire and counsellor. Grace's musings were of the gallant and stalwart Ensign of the Corps, Sergeant Lawe.

It would be too much to say that the Nurses had no anxiety about the safety of their lovers. But then, they had been bred in the midst of war's alarms. They knew that their fathers, kindred, and friends were brave, experienced, skillful, and devoted to one another. They had learned to regard war risks as matters of ordinary life and business, and were rarely troubled about them. There was special reason why they should be even more light hearted than usual that night. Yet, so strangely run the currents of one's thoughts, that these maidens were all sad.

There was some reason, indeed, why Agatha and Faith should feel thus, for the old saying fell true in their case about the course of true love not running smooth. Captain Bruce refused consent to the marriage of Agatha and MacWhirlie. The two had waited long, patiently, devotedly; yes, and hopefully, althoughthey had often known that "hope deferred" which "maketh the heart sick." Every one thought the Captain's conduct strange. But he never gave any reason, except that Agatha was too grave, and MacWhirlie too gay for a well balanced marriage. As obedience to parents is one of the unchanging laws of Brownieland, no one could oppose.

Now, it so happened that Commodore Rodney had taken up a like notion concerning his daughter and Adjutant Blythe. "Blythe is too jovial, and Faith is too serious," said the Commodore. "They could never sail smoothly in the same ship on a whole life's course." An odd feature of this trouble was that each of the fathers pooh-hooed the objection of the other, and each uncle was highly pleased with his niece's choice! The best of Brownies, like other people, have their whimsies. Grace and Sophia had no such sorrows to vex them, and were looking forward to their wedding on the next Thanksgiving Day.

Enough for the present of these disappointments and hopes. The night watch in the Hospital has just been changed, as have also the outer sentinels. Blythe, for it is he who attends to this latter duty, has sounded a soft note on the whistle that hangs against the rear door of the Sanitary Tent. It is the signal that the Nurses are wanted in the Hospital. Night duty is divided between them, two of them always watching in the Hospital, while the others sleep in the marquée. Agatha and Grace have the first watch to-night, and pass into the Hospital. But Faith knows whose lips had sounded the call, and comes in to exchange a few words with her lover.

"Good-bye!"

Why should she, too, have come back with a tear upon her cheek?

The light is turned down low in the fox-fire lantern. The yellow hospital flag flaps lazily against the staff. The full moon hangs over Hillside. The tramp, tramp of the sentinel grows dim and clear by turns as he recedes from or nears the door. The noises of the camp have died away and silence reigns at last over plain, fort and field. Both Brownies and Pixies are weary with the day's battling and sleep well. Faith and Sophia, too, after a long talk about their trials and their loves, their hopes, fears and joys, have fallen asleep in each other's arms.

The stars that mark the midnight hour are fast hastening into the zenith. The sentinels walk their beats with weary pace. The relief guards will soon be on the rounds. Faith and Sophia stir in their sleep uneasily as though dimly conscious that the whistle will soon call them to duty. There is a soft touch, as the touch of an angel's finger, upon their cheeks. It seems to rest upon their eyes, their lips. It is pressed against their nostrils. It stays their breathing. They turn restlessly on their couch. They toss their arms, but the soft touch is on them, too. Cannot they awake?

Yes, their eyes are open now. Is it a dream? Is it the vision of a nightmare? Two forms, the terrible forms of their foes, the Pixies, are bending over them, wrapping them around in the silken folds of their snares!

Alas! it is no dream. The most dreaded of all their enemies, Spite the Spy, chief of the Pixies, and Hide the son of Shame, are crouching at their bedside. The maidens start from their pillows, but fall back again hopeless. They are bound hand and foot as with grave-clothes. They are wrapped in a winding sheet of gossamer; enshrouded alive.[Z]

Spite reckoned truly that the next impulse of the Nurses would be to scream. He thrust his hairy face close against their cheeks, and hissed from between his lips, "Utter one sound and you die! Keep still and you shall not be harmed."

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