ss aie ran PTT Repbets | Return this book on or before the Latest Date stamped below. University of Illinois Library L161—H41 Author of Freckles, The Harvester, etc. | Gene Stratton Porter Indianapolis The Bobbs-Merrill Company Publishers CopyRIcHT 1903, 1906, 1912 Tue Bogpps-MERRILL COMPANY PRESS OF BRAUNWORTH & CO. BOOKBINDERS AND PRINTERS BROOKLYN, N. Y. & . ‘ > ; S on) : iN ay g In Loving Tribute ‘ : To the Memory of My Father * MARK STRATTON ef - Q 4 W ; A 3 ‘For him every work of God manifested a new and hereto- > < fore unappreciated loveliness.’” Ny ea —- as << | Se ~ USS : ZS Z a pm “a & Q / The Song of the Cardinal : THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL CHAPTER I “Good cheer! Good cheer!” exulted the Cardinal HE aartea through the orange orchard search- ing for slugs for his breakfast, and between whiles he rocked on the branches and rang over his mes- sage of encouragement to men. The song of the Cardinal was overflowing with joy, for this was his holiday, his playtime. The southern world was filled with brilliant sunshine, gaudy flowers, an abundance of fruit, myriads of insects, and never a thing to do except to bathe, feast and be happy. No wonder his song was a prophecy of good cheer for the future, for happiness made up the whole of his past. The Cardinal was only a yearling, yet his crest 1 THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL flared high, his beard was crisp and black, and he was a very prodigy in size and coloring. Fathers of his family that had accomplished many migra- tions appeared small beside him, and coats that had been shed season after season seemed dull compared with his. It was as if a pulsing heart of flame passed by when he came winging through the or- chard. Last season the cardinal had pipped his shell, away to the north, in that paradise of the birds, the Limberlost. There thousands of acres of black marsh-muck stretch under summers’ sun and win- ters’ snows. ‘There are darksome pools of murky water, bits of swale and high morass. Giants of the forest reach skyward, or, coated with velvet slime, lie decaying in sun-flecked pools, while the underbrush is almost impenetrable. The swamp resembles a big dining-table for the birds. Wild grape-vines clamber to the tops of the highest trees, spreading umbrella-wise over the branches, and their festooned floating trailers wave like silken fringe in the play of the wind. The 2 THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL birds loll in the shade, peel bark, gather dried curlers for nest material, and feast on the pungent fruit. 'They chatter in swarms over the wild-cherry trees, and overload their crops with red haws, wild plums, papaws, blackberries and mandrake. The alders around the edge draw flocks in search of ber- ries, and the marsh grasses and weeds are weighted with seed hunters. The muck is alive with worms; and the whole swamp ablaze with flowers, whose colors and perfumes attract myriads of insects and butterflies. Wild creepers flaunt their red and gold from the tree-tops, and the bumblebees and humming-birds make common cause in rifling the honey-laden trum- pets. The air around the wild-plum and red-haw trees is vibrant with the beating wings of millions of wild bees, and the bee-birds feast to gluttony. The fetid odors of the swamp draw insects in swarms, and fly-catchers tumble and twist in air in pursuit of them. Every hollow tree homes its colony of bats. Snakes sun on the bushes. The water folk leave 3 THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL trails of shining ripples in their wake as they cross the lagoons. Turtles waddle clumsily from the logs. Frogs take graceful flying leaps from pool to pool. Everything native to that section of the country—underground, creeping or a-wing—can be found in the Limberlost; but above all it is the chosen habitation of the birds. Dainty green warblers nest in its tree-tops, and red-eyed vireos choose a location below. It is the home of bell-birds, finches, and thrushes. There are flocks of blackbirds, grackles, and crows. Jays and catbirds quarrel constantly, and marsh-wrens keep up never-ending chatter. Orioles swing their pendent purses from the branches, and with the tanagers picnic on mulberries and insects. In the evening, night-hawks dart on silent wing; whippoorwills set up a plaintive cry that they con- tinue far into the night; and owls revel in moon- light and rich hunting. At dawn, robins wake the echoes of each new day with the admonition, “Cheer up! Cheer up!” and a little later big black vultures go wheeling through cloudland or hang there, like 4 THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL frozen splashes, searching the Limberlost and the surrounding country for food. The boom of the bittern resounds all day, and above it the rasping scream of the blue heron, as he strikes terror to the hearts of frogdom; while the occasional cries of a lost loon, strayed from its flock in northern migra- tion, fill the swamp with sounds of wailing. Flashing through the tree-tops of the Limberlost there are birds whose color is more brilliant than that of the gaudiest flower lifting its face to light and air. The lilies of the mire are not so white as the white herons that fish among them. ‘The ripest spray of goldenrod is not so highly colored as the burnished gold on the breast of the oriole that rocks on it. ‘The jays are bluer than the calamus bed they wrangle above with throaty chatter. The finches are a finer purple than the ironwort. For every clump of foxfire flaming in the Limberlost, there is a cardinal glowing redder on a bush above it. These may not be more numerous than other birds, but their brilliant coloring and the fearless 5 THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL disposition that keep them forever in evidence make them seem so. : The Cardinal was hatched in a thicket of sweet- brier and blackberry. His father was a tough old widower of many experiences and variable temper. He was the biggest, most aggressive redbird in the Limberlost, and easily reigned king of his kind. Catbirds, king-birds, and shrikes gave him a wide berth, and not even the ever-quarrelsome jays plucked up enough courage to antagonize him. A few days after his latest bereavement, he saw a fine, plump young female; and she so filled his eye that he gave her no rest until she permitted his caresses, and carried the first twig to the wild rose. She was very proud to mate with the king of the Limber- lost; and if deep in her heart she felt transient fears of her lordly master, she gave no sign, for she was a bird of goodly proportion and fine feather herself. She chose her location with the eye of an artist, and the judgment of a nest builder of more experi- ence. It would be difficult for snakes and squirrels 6 THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL to penetrate that briery thicket. The white berry blossoms scarcely had ceased to attract a swarm of insects before the sweets of the roses recalled them; by the time they had faded, luscious big berries ripened within reach and drew food hunters. She built with far more than ordinary care. It was a beautiful nest, not nearly so loose and shackly as those of her kindred all through the swamp. There was a distinct attempt at a cup shape, and it really was neatly lined with dried blades of sweet marsh grass. But it was in the laying of her first egg that the queen cardinal forever distinguished her- self. She was a fine healthful bird, full of love and happiness over her first venture in nest-building, and she so far surpassed herself on that occasion she had difficulty in convincing any one that she was responsible for the result. Indeed, she was compelled to lift beak and wing against her mate in defense of this egg, for it was so unusually large that he could not be persuaded short of force that some sneak of the feathered tribe had not slipped in and deposited it in her ab- 7 THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL sence. The king felt sure there was something wrong with the egg, and wanted to roll it from the nest ; but the queen knew her own, and stoutly bat- tled for its protection. She further increased their prospects by laying three others. After that the king made up his mind that she was a most remark- able bird, and went away pleasure-seeking ; but the queen settled to brooding, a picture of joyous faith and contentment. Through all the long days, when the heat became intense, and the king was none too thoughtful of her appetite or comfort, she nestled those four eggs against her breast and patiently waited. The big egg was her treasure. She gave it constant care. Many times in a day she turned it; and always against her breast there was the individual pressure that distinguished it from the others. It was the first to hatch, of course, and the queen felt that she had enough if all the others failed her; for this egg pipped with a resounding pip, and before the silky down was really dry on the big terra-cotta 8 THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL body, the young Cardinal arose and lustily de- manded food. The king came to see him and at once acknowl- edged subjugation. He was the father of many promising cardinals, yet he never had seen one like this. He set the Limberlost echoes rolling with his jubilant rejoicing. He unceasingly hunted for the ripest berries and seed. He stuffed that baby from morning until night, and never came with food that he did not find him standing atop the others call- ing for more. The queen was just as proud of him and quite as foolish in her idolatry, but she kept tally and gave the remainder every other worm in turn. They were unusually fine babies, but what chance has merely a fine baby in a family that pos- sesses a prodigy? The Cardinal was as large as any two of the other nestlings, and so red the very down on him seemed tinged with crimson; his skin and even his feet were red. He was the first to climb to the edge of the nest and the first to hop on a limb. He surprised his parents by finding a slug, and winged his first 9 THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL flight to such a distance that his adoring mother almost went into spasms lest his strength might fail, and he would fall into the swamp and become the victim of a hungry old turtle. He returned safely, however; and the king was so pleased he hunted him an unusually ripe berry, and perching before him, gave him his first language lesson. Of course, the Cardinal knew how to cry “Pee” and “Chee” when he burst his shell ; but the king taught him to chip with accuracy and expression, and he learned that very day that male birds of the cardi- nal family always call “Chip,” and the females *“Chook.” In fact, he learned so rapidly and was generally so observant, that before the king thought it wise to give the next lesson, he found him on a limb, his beak closed, his throat swelling, practising his own rendering of the tribal calls, “Wheat! Wheat! Wheat!” ‘Here! Here! Here!” and “Cheer! Cheer! Cheer!” This so delighted the king that he whistled them over and over and helped the youngster all he could. He was so proud of him that this same night he 10 a THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL gave him his first lesson in tucking his head prop- erly and going to sleep alone. In a few more days, when he was sure of his wing strength, he gave him instructions in flying. He taught him how to spread his wings and slowly sail from tree to tree; how to fly in short broken curves, to avoid the aim of a hunter; how to turn abruptly in air and make a quick dash after a bug or an enemy. He taught him the proper angle at which to breast a stiff wind, and that he always should meet a storm head first, so that the water would run as the plumage lay. His first bathing lesson was a pronounced suc- cess. The Cardinal enjoyed water like a duck. He bathed, splashed, and romped until his mother was almost crazy for fear he would attract a water- snake or turtle; but the element of fear was not a part of his disposition. He learned to dry, dress, and plume his feathers, and showed such remarka- ble pride in keeping himself immaculate, that al- though only a youngster, he was already a bird of such great promise, that many of the feathered in- habitants of the Limberlost came to pay him a call. 11 THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL Next, the king took him on a long trip around the swamp, and taught him how to select the proper places to hunt for worms; how to search under leaves for plant-lice and slugs for meat ; which ber- ries were good and safe, and the kind of weeds that bore the most and best seeds. He showed him how to find tiny pebbles to grind his food, and how to sharpen and polish his beak. Then he took up the real music lessons, and taught him how to whistle and how to warble and trill. “Good Cheer ! Good Cheer!” intoned the king. “Coo Cher! Coo Cher!” imitated the Cardinal. These songs were only studied repetitions, but there was a depth and volume in his voice that gave promise of future greatness, when age should have developed him, and experience awakened his emo- tions. He was an excellent musician for a young- ster. He soon did so well in caring for himself, in find- ing food and in flight, and grew so big and inde- pendent, that he made numerous excursions alone through the Limberlost ; and so impressive were his 12 THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL proportions, and so aggressive his manners, that he suffered no molestation. In fact, the reign of the king promised to end speedily; but if he feared it he made no sign, and his pride in his wonderful off- spring was always manifest. After the Cardinal had explored the swamp thoroughly, a longing for a wider range grew upon him; and day after day he lingered around the borders, looking across the wide cultivated fields, almost aching to test his wings in one long, high, wild stretch of flight. A day came when the heat of late summer set the marsh steaming, and the Cardinal, flying close to the borders, caught the breeze from the upland; and the vision of broad fields stretching toward the north so enticed him that he spread his wings, and following the line of trees and fences as much as possible, he made his first journey from home. That day was so delightful it decided his fortunes. It would seem that the swamp, so appreciated by his kindred, should have been sufficient for the Cardi- nal, but it was not. With every mile he winged his flight, came a greater sense of power and strength, 13 THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL and a keener love for the broad sweep of field and forest. His heart bounded with the zest of rock- ing on the wind, racing through the sunshine and sailing over the endless panorama of waving corn fields, meadows, orchards and woodlands. The heat and closeness of the Limberlost seemed a prison well escaped, as on and on he flew in straight untiring flight. Crossing a field of half- ripened corn that sloped to the river, the Cardinal saw many birds feeding there, so he alighted on a tall tree to watch them. Soon he decided that he would like to try this new food. He found a place where a crow had left an ear nicely laid open, and clinging to the husk, as he saw the others do, he stretched to his full height and drove his strong sharp beak into the creamy grain. After the stifling swamp hunting, after the long exciting flight, to rock on this swaying corn and drink the rich milk of the grain, was to the Cardinal his first taste of nectar and ambrosia. He lifted his head when he came to the golden kernel, and chipping 14 THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL it in tiny specks, he tasted and approved with all the delight of an epicure in a delicious new dish. Perhaps there were other treats in the next field. He decided to fly even farther. But he had gone only a short distance when he changed his course and turned to the South, for below him was a long, shining, creeping thing, fringed with willows, while towering above them were giant sycamore, maple, tulip, and elm trees that caught and rocked with the wind; and the Cardinal did not know what it was. Filled with wonder he dropped lower and lower. Birds were everywhere, many flying over and dipping into it; but its clear creeping silver was a mystery to the Cardinal. The beautiful river of poetry and song that the Indians first discovered, and later with the French, named Ouabache; the winding shining river that Logan and Me-shin-go-me-sia loved; the only river that could tempt Wa-ca-co-nah from the Salamonie and Mississinewa; the river beneath whose silver sycamores and giant maples Chief Godfrey trav- 15 THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL eled many miles to pitch his camp-fires, was never more beautiful than on that perfect autumn day. With his feathers pressed closely, the Cardinal alighted on a willow, and leaned to look, quivering with excitement and uttering explosive “chips”; for there he was, face to face with a big redbird that appeared neither peaceful nor timid. He uttered an impudent “Chip” of challenge, which, as it left his beak was flung back to him. The Cardinal flared his crest and half lifted his wings, stiffening them at the butt; the bird he was facing did the same. In his surprise he arose to his full height with a dexterous little side step, and the other bird straightened and side-stepped exactly with him. This was too insulting for the Cardinal. Straining every muscle, he made a dash at the impudent stranger. He struck the water with such force that it splashed above the willows, and a kingfisher, sta- tioned on a stump opposite him, watching the shoals for minnows, saw it. He spread his beak and bel- lowed with rattling laughter, until his voice re- 16 ~~ ee THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL echoed from point to point down the river. The Cardinal scarcely knew how he got out, but he had learned a new lesson. That beautiful, shining, creeping thing was water; not thick, tepid, black marsh water, but pure, cool, silver water. He shook his plumage, feeling a degree redder from shame, but he would not be laughed into leaving. He found it too delightful. In a short time he ven- tured down and took a sip, and it was the first real drink of his life. Oh, but it was good! When thirst from the heat and his long flight was quenched, he ventured in for a bath, and that was a new and delightful experience. How he splashedandsplashed, and sent the silver drops fly- ing! How he ducked and soaked and cooled in that rippling water, in which he might remain as long as he pleased and splash his fill; for he could see the bottom for a long distance all around, and easily could avoid anything attempting to harm him. He was so wet when his bath was finished he scarcely could reach a bush to dry and dress his plumage. 17 THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL! Once again in perfect feather, he remembered the bird of the water, and returned to the willow. There in the depths of the shining river the Cardi- nal discovered himself, and his heart swelled big with just pride. Was that broad full breast his? Where had he seen any other cardinal with a crest so high it waved in the wind? How big and black his eyes were, and his beard was almost as long and crisp as his father’s. He spread his wings and gloated on their sweep, and twisted and flirted his tail. He went over his toilet again and dressed every feather on him. He scoured the back of his neck with the butt of his wings, and tucking his head under them, slowly drew it out time after time to polish his crest. He turned and twisted. He rocked and paraded, and every glimpse he caught of his size and beauty filled him with pride. He strutted like a peacock and chattered like a jay. When he could find no further points to admire, something else caught his attention. When he “chipped” there was an answering “Chip” across the river; certainly there was no cardinal there, so 18 THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL it must be that he was hearing his own voice as well as seeing himself. Selecting a conspicuous perch he sent an incisive “Chip!” across the water, and in kind it came back to him. Then he “chipped” softly and tenderly, as he did in the Limberlost to a favorite little sister that often came and perched beside him in the maple where he slept, and softly and tenderly came the answer. Then the Cardinal understood. ‘Wheat! Wheat! Wheat!” He whistled it high, and he whistled it low. ‘Cheer! Cheer! Cheer!” He whistled it tenderly and sharply and imperiously. “Here! Here! Here!” At this ringing command, every bird, as far as the river carried his voice, came to investigate and remained to admire. Over and over he rang every change he could in- vent. He made a gallant effort at warbling and trilling, and then, with the gladdest heart he ever had known, he burst into ringing song: “Good Cheer! Good Cheer! Good Cheer!” ‘As evening came on he grew restless and uneasy, so he slowly winged his way back to the Limberlost ; but that day forever spoiled him for a swamp bird. 19 THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL In the night he restlessly ruffled his feathers, and sniffed for the breeze of the meadows. He tasted the corn and the clear water again. He admired his image in the river, and longed for the sound of his voice, until he began murmuring, “Wheat! Wheat! Wheat!’ in his sleep. In the earliest dawn a robin awoke him singing, “Cheer up! Cheer up!” and he answered with a sleepy “Cheer! Cheer! ’? Later the robin sang again with ex- Cheer quisite softness and tenderness, ‘‘Cheer up, Dearie! Cheer up, Dearie! Cheer up! Cheer up! Cheer!” The Cardinal, now fully awakened, shouted lustily, “Good Cheer! Good Cheer!” and after that it was only a short time until he was on his way toward the shining river. It was better than before, and every following day found him feasting in the corn field and bathing in the shining water; but he al- ways returned to his family at nightfall. When black frosts began to strip the Limberlost, and food was almost reduced to dry seed, there came a day on which the king marshaled his followers and gave the magic signal. With dusk he led them 20 THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL southward, mile after mile, until their breath fell short, and their wings ached with unaccustomed flight; but because of the trips to the river, the Cardinal was stronger than the others, and he easily kept abreast of the king. In the early morning, even before the robins were awake, the king settled in the Everglades. But the Cardinal had lost all liking for swamp) life, so he stubbornly set out alone, and in a short time he had found another river. It was not quite so delightful as the shining river ; but still it was beautiful, and on its gently sloping bank was an orange orchard. ‘There the Cardinal rested, and found a winter home after his heart’s desire. The following morning, a golden-haired little girl and an old man with snowy locks came hand in hand through the orchard. The child saw the red- bird and immediately claimed him, and that same day the edict went forth that a very dreadful time was in store for any one who harmed or even frightened the Cardinal. So in security began a series of days that were pure delight. The orchard 21 THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL was alive with insects, attracted by the heavy odors, and slugs infested the bark. Feasting was almost as good as in the Limberlost, and always there was the river to drink from and to splash in at will. In those days the child and the old man lingered for hours in the orchard, watching the bird that every day seemed to grow bigger and brighter. What a picture his coat, now a bright cardinal red, made against the waxy green leaves! How big and brilliant he seemed as he raced and darted in play among the creamy blossoms! How the little girl stood with clasped hands worshiping him, as with swelling throat, he rocked on the highest spray and sang his inspiring chorus over and over, “Good Cheer! Good Cheer!’ Every day they came to watch and listen. They scattered crumbs; and the Cardinal grew so friendly that he greeted their coming with a quick “Chip! Chip!” while the de- lighted child tried to repeat it after him. Soon they became such friends that when he saw them approaching he would call softly “Chip! Chip!” 22 THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL and then with beady eyes and tilted head await her reply. Sometimes a member of his family from the Everglades found his way into the orchard, and the Cardinal, having grown to feel a sense of proprie- torship, resented the intrusion and pursued him like a streak of flame. Whenever any straggler had this experience, he returned to the swamp realizing that the cardinal of the orange orchard was almost twice his size and strength, and so startlingly red as to be a wonder. One day a gentle breeze from the north sprang up and stirred the orange branches, wafting the heavy perfume across the land and out to sea, and spread in its stead a cool, delicate, pungent odor. The Cardinal lifted his head and whistled an in- quiring note. He was not certain, and went on searching for slugs, and predicting happiness in full round notes: ‘Good Cheer! Good Cheer!’ Again the odor swept the orchard, so strong that this time there was no mistaking it. The Cardinal darted to the topmost branch, his crest flaring, his 23 THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL tail twitching nervously. “Chip! Chip!” he cried with excited insistence, “Chip! Chip!’ The breeze was coming stiffly and steadily now, unlike anything the Cardinal ever had known, for its cool breath told of ice-bound fields breaking up under the sun. Its damp touch was from the spring showers washing the face of the northland. Its subtle odor was the commingling of myriads of un- folding leaves and crisp plants, upspringing; its pungent perfume was the pollen of catkins. Up in the land of the Limberlost, old Mother Nature, with strident muttering, had set about her annual house-cleaning. With her efficient broom, the March wind, she was sweeping every nook and cranny clean. With her scrub-bucket overflowing — with April showers, she was washing the face of all creation, and if these measures failed to produce cleanliness to her satisfaction, she gave a final polish with storms of hail. The shining river was filled to overflowing ; breaking up the ice and carry- ing a load of refuse, it went rolling to the sea. The ice and snow had not altogether gone; but the long- Q4 THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL pregnant earth was mothering her children. She cringed at every step, for the ground was teeming with life. Bug and worm were working to light and warmth. Thrusting aside the mold and leaves above them, spring beauties, hepaticas, and violets lifted tender golden-green heads. The sap was flowing, and leafless trees were covered with swell- ing buds. Delicate mosses were creeping over every stick of decaying timber. The lichens on stone and fence were freshly painted in unending shades of gray and green. Myriads of flowers and vines were springing up to cover last year’s decaying leaves. ‘The beautiful uncut hair of graves” was creeping over meadow, spreading beside roadways, and blanketing every naked spot. The Limberlost was waking to life even ahead of the fields and the river. Through the winter it had been the barest and dreariest of places ; but now the earliest signs of returning spring were in its mar- tial music, for when the green hyla pipes, and the bullfrog drums, the bird voices soon join them. The catkins bloomed first; and then, in an incredibly 25 THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL short time, flags, rushes, and vines were like a sea of waving green, and swelling buds were ready to burst. In the upland the smoke was curling over sugar-camp and clearing; in the forests animals were rousing from their long sleep; the shad were starting anew their never-ending journey up the shining river; peeps of green were mantling hilltop and valley; and the northland was ready for its dearest springtime treasures to come home again. From overhead were ringing those first glad notes, caught nearer the Throne than those of any other bird, “Spring o’ the year! Spring o’ the year !”; while stilt-legged little killdeers were scud- ding around the Limberlost and beside the river, flinging from cloudland their “Kill deer! Kill deer!’ call. The robins in the orchards were pull- ‘ing the long dried blades of last year’s grass from beneath the snow to line their mud-walled cups ; and the bluebirds were at the hollow apple tree. Flat on the top rail, the doves were gathering their few coarse sticks and twigs together. It was such a splendid place to set their cradle. The weather- 26 THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL beaten, rotting old rails were the very color of the busy dove mother. Her red-rimmed eye fitted into the background like a tiny scarlet lichen cup. Surely no one would ever see her! The Limberlost and shining river, the fields and forests, the way- side bushes and fences, the stumps, logs, hollow trees, even the bare brown breast of Mother Earth, were all waiting to cradle their own again; and by one of the untold miracles each would return to its place. There was intoxication in the air. The subtle, pungent, ravishing odors on the wind, of unfolding leaves, ice-water washed plants, and catkin pollen, were an elixir to humanity. The cattle of the field were fairly drunk with it, and herds, dry-fed dur- ing the winter, were coming to their first grazing with heads thrown high, romping, bellowing, and racing like wild things. The north wind, sweeping from icy fastnesses, caught this odor of spring, and carried it to the orange orchards and Everglades; and at a breath of it, crazed with excitement, the Cardinal went aq THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL flaming through the orchard, for with no one to teach him, he knew what it meant. ‘The call had come. Holidays were over. It was time to go home, time to riot in crisp freshness, time to go courting, time to make love, time to possess his own, time for mating and nest- building. All that day he flashed around, nervous with dread of the unknown, and palpitant with de- lightful expectation; but with the coming of dusk he began his journey northward. When he passed the Everglades, he winged his way slowly, and repeatedly sent down a challenging “Chip,” but there was no answer. ‘Then the Car- dinal knew that the north wind had carried a true message, for the king and his followers were ahead of him on their way to the Limberlost. Mile after mile, a thing of pulsing fire, he breasted the blue- black night, and it was not so very long until he could discern: a flickering patch of darkness sweep- ing the sky before him. The Cardinal flew stead- ily in a straight sweep, until with a throb of tri- umph in his heart, he arose in his course, and from 28 THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL far overhead, flung down a boastful challenge to the king and his followers, as he sailed above them and was lost from sight. It was still dusky with the darkness of night when he crossed the Limberlost, dropping low enough to see its branches laid bare, to catch a gleam of green in its swelling buds, and to hear the wavering chorus of its frogs. But there was no hesitation in his flight. Straight and sure he winged his way toward the shining river; and it was only a few more miles until the rolling waters of its springtime flood caught his eye. Dropping precipitately, he plunged his burning beak into the loved water ; then he flew into a fine old stag sumac and tucked his head under his wing for a short rest. He had made the long flight in one unbroken sweep, and he was sleepy. In utter content he ruffled his feathers and closed his eyes, for he was beside the shining river; and it would be another season be- fore the orange orchard would ring again with his “Good Cheer ! Good Cheer !”” CHAPTER II “Wet year! Wet year!’ prophesied the Cardinal. "THE sumac seemed to fill his idea of a perfect location from the very first. He perched on a limb, and between dressing his plumage and pecking at last year’s sour dried berries, he sent abroad his pre- diction. Old Mother Nature verified his wisdom by sending a dashing shower, but he cared not at all for a wetting. He knew how to turn his crimson suit into the most perfect of water-proof coats; so he flattened his crest, sleeked his feathers, and breasting the April downpour, kept on calling for rain. He knew he would appear brighter when it was past, and he seemed to know, too, that every day of sunshine and shower would bring nearer his heart’s desire. He was a very Beau Brummel while he waited. From morning until night he bathed, dressed his 30 THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL feathers, sunned himself, fluffed and flirted. He strutted and “chipped” incessantly. He claimed that sumac for his very own, and stoutly battled for possession with many intruders. It grew ona densely wooded slope, and the shining river went singing between grassy banks, whitened with spring beauties, below it. Crowded around it were thickets of papaw, wild grape-vines, thorn, dog- wood, and red haw, that attracted bug and insect; and just across the old snake fence was a field of mellow mold sloping to the river, that soon would be plowed for corn, turning out numberless big fat grubs. He was compelled almost hourly to wage battles for his location, for there was something fine about the old stag sumac that attracted homestead seek- ers. A sober pair of robins began laying their foundations there the morning the Cardinal ar- rived, and a couple of blackbirds tried to take pos- session before the day had passed. He had little trouble with the robins. They: were easily con-| quered, and with small protest settled a rod up the 31 THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL bank in a wild-plum tree ; but the air was thick with “chips,” chatter, and red and black feathers, be- fore the blackbirds acknowledged defeat. They were old-timers, and knew about the grubs and the young corn; but they also knew when they were beaten, so they moved down stream to a scrub oak, trying to assure each other that it was the place they really had wanted from the first. The Cardinal was left boasting and strutting on the sumac, but in his heart he found it lonesome business. Being the son of a king, he was much too dignified to beg for a mate, and besides, it took all his time to guard the sumac; but his eyes were wide open to all that went on around him, and he envied the blackbird his glossy, devoted little sweet- heart with all his might. He almost strained his voice trying to rival the love-song of a skylark that hung among the clouds above a meadow across the river, and poured down to his mate a story of ador- ing love and sympathy. He screamed a “Chip” of such savage jealousy at a pair of killdeer lovers that he sent them scampering down the river bank 32 THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL without knowing that the crime of which they stood convicted was that of being mated when he was not. As for the doves that were already brooding on the line fence under the maples, the Cardinal was torn between two opinions. He was alone, he was love-sick, and he was hold- ing the finest building location beside the shining river for his mate, and her slowness in coming made their devotion difficult to endure when he coveted a true love; but it seemed to the Cardinal that he never could so forget himself as to emulate the ex- ample of that dove lover. The dove had no dig- nity; he was so effusive he was a nuisance. He kept his dignified Quaker mate stuffed to discom- fort; he clung to the side of the nest trying to help brood until he almost crowded her from the eggs. He pestered her with caresses and cooed over his love-song until every chipmunk on the line fence was familiar with his story. The Cardinal’s tem- per was worn to such a fine edge that he darted at the dove one day and pulled a big tuft of feathers from his back. When he had returned to the 33 THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL sumac, he was compelled to admit that his anger lay quite as much in that he had no one to love as because the dove was disgustingly devoted. Every morning brought new arrivals,—trim young females fresh from their long holiday, and big boastful males appearing their brightest and bravest, each singer almost splitting his throat in the effort to captivate the mate he coveted. They came flashing down the river bank, like rockets of scarlet, gold, blue, and black; rocking on the wil- lows, splashing in the water, bursting into jets of melody, making every possible display of their beauty and music; and at times fighting fiercely when they discovered that the females they were wooing favored their rivals and desired only to be friendly with them. The heart of the Cardinal sank as he watched. There was not a member of his immediate family among them. He pitied himself as he wondered if fate had in store for him the trials he saw others suffering. Those dreadful feathered females! How they coquetted! How they flirted! How they 34 THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL sleeked and flattened their plumage, and with half- open beaks and sparkling eyes, hopped closer and closer as if charmed. The eager singers, with swelling throats, sang and sang in a very frenzy of extravagant pleading, but just when they felt sure their little loves were on the point of surrender, a rod distant above the bushes would go streaks of feathers, and there was nothing left but to endure the bitter disappointment, follow them, and begin all over. For the last three days the Cardinal had been watching his cousin, rose-breasted Grosbeak, make violent love to the most exquisite little female, who apparently encouraged his advances, only to see him left sitting as blue and disconsolate as any human lover, when he discovers that the maid who has coquetted with him for a season belongs to an- other man. The Cardinal flew to the very top of the highest sycamore and looked across country toward the Limberlost. Should he go there seeking a swamp mate among his kindred? It was not an endurable thought. To be sure, matters were becoming seri- 35 THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL ous. No bird beside the shining river had plumed, paraded, or made more music than he. Was it all to be wasted? By this time he confidently had ex- pected results. Only that morning he had swelled with pride as he heard Mrs. Jay tell her quarrel- some husband that she wished she could exchange him for the Cardinal. Did not the gentle dove pause by the sumac, when she left brooding to take her morning dip in the dust, and gaze at him with unconcealed admiration? No doubt she devoutly wished her plain pudgy husband wore a scarlet coat. But it is praise from one’s own sex that is praise indeed, and only an hour ago the lark had reported that from his lookout above cloud he saw no other singer anywhere so splendid as the cardi- nal of the sumac. Because of these things he held fast to his conviction that he was a prince indeed; and he decided to remain in his chosen location and with his physical and vocal attractions compel the finest little cardinal in the fields to seek him. He planned it all very carefully. How she would hear his splendid music and come to take a peep at 36 THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL him; how she would be captivated by his size and beauty ; how she would come timidly, but come, of course, for his approval; how he would condescend to accept her if she pleased him in all particulars; how she would be devoted to him; and how she would approve his choice of a home for the sumac was in a lovely spot for scenery, as well as nest- building. For several days he had boasted, he had bantered, he had challenged, he had on this last day almost condescended to coaxing, but not one little bright-eyed cardinal female had come to offer her- self. The performance of a brown thrush drove him wild with envy. The thrush came gliding up the river bank, a rusty-coated, sneaking thing of the underbrush, and taking possession of a thorn bush just opposite the sumac, he sang for an hour in the open. ‘There was no way to improve that music. It was woven fresh from the warp and woof of his fancy. It was a song so filled with the joy and gladness of spring, notes so thrilled with love’s pleading and passion’s tender pulsing pain, that at 37 THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL its close there were a half-dozen admiring thrush females gathered around. With care and delibera- tion the brown thrush selected the most attractive, and she followed him to the thicket as if charmed. It was the Cardinal’s dream materialized for an- other before his very eyes, and it filled him with envy. If that plain brown bird that slinked as if he had a theft to account for, could, by showing himself and singing for an hour, win a mate, why should not he, the most gorgeous bird of the woods, openly flaunting his charms and discoursing his music, have at least equal success? Should he, the proudest, most magnificent of cardinals, be com- pelled to go seeking a mate like any common bird? Perish the thought! He went to the river to bathe. After finding a spot where the water flowed crystal-clear over a bed of white limestone, he washed until he felt that he could be no cleaner. Then the Cardinal went to his favorite sun-parlor, and stretching on a limb, he stood his feathers on end, and sunned, fluffed and prinked until he was immaculate. 38 THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL On the tip-top antler of the old stag sumac, he perched and strained until his jetty whiskers ap- peared stubby. He poured out a tumultuous cry vibrant with every passion raging in him. He caught up his own rolling echoes and changed and varied them. He improvised, and set the shining river ringing, “Wet year! Wet year!” He whistled and whistled until all birdland and even mankind heard, for the farmer paused at his kitchen door, with his pails of foaming milk, and called to his wife: “Hear that, Maria! Jest hearit! I swanny, if that bird doesn’t stop predictin’ wet weather, I’ll get so scared I won’t durst put in my corn afore June. They’s some birds like killdeers an’ bob- whites ’at can make things pretty plain, but I never heard a bird ’at could jest speak words out clear an’ distinct like that fellow. Seems to come from the river bottom. B’lieve I’ll jest step down that way an’ see if the lower field is ready for the plow yet.” ‘Abram Johnson,” said his wife, “bein’s you set up for an honest man, if you want to trapes 39 THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL through slush an’ drizzle a half-mile to see a bird, why say so, but don’t for land’s sake, lay it on to plowin’ ’at you know in all conscience won’t be ready for a week yet *thout pretendin’ to look.” Abram grinned sheepishly. “I’m willin’ to call it the bird if you are, Maria. I’ve been hearin’ him from the barn all day, an’ there’s somethin’ kind o’ human in his notes ’at takes me jest a little diffrunt from any other bird I ever noticed. I’m really curious to set eyes on him. Seemed to me from his singin’ out to the barn, it ud be mighty near like meetin’ folks.” Bosh!’ exclaimed Maria. “I don’t s’pose he sings a mite better ’an any other bird. -It’s jest the old Wabash rollin’ up the echoes. she said con- shouldn’t be forced to put ’em up,’ clusively. “If it’s been decided ’at it’s good for em to be here, an’ laws made to protect ’em, people ought to act with some sense, an’ leave them alone. I never was so int’rested in the birds m all my life; an’ I'll jest do a little lookin’ out myself. If you hear a spang o’ the dinner bell when you’re out in the field, you’ll know it means there’s some one sneakin’ ’round with a gun.” ) Abram caught Maria, and planted a resounding smack on her cheek, where the roses of girlhood yet bloomed for him. Then he filled his pockets with crumbs and grain, and strolled to the river to set the Cardinal’s table. He could hear the sharp in- cisive “Chip ’? and the tender mellow love-notes as he left the barn; and all the way to the sumac they rang in his ears. 100 THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL The Cardinal met him at the corner of the field, and hopped over bushes and the fence only a few yards from him. When Abram had scattered his store on the rail, the bird came tipping and tilting, daintily caught up a crumb, and carried it to the sumac. His mate was pleased to take it; and he carried her one morsel after another until she re- fused to open her beak for more. He made a light supper himself; and then swinging on the grape- vine, he closed the day with an hour of music. He repeatedly turned a bright questioning eye toward Abram, but he never for a moment lost sight of the nest and the plump gray figure of his little mate. As she brooded over her eggs, he brooded over her ; and that she might realize the depth and constancy of his devotion, he told her repeatedly, with every tender inflection he could throw into his tones, that she was *‘So dear! So dear!’ The Cardinal had not known that the coming of the mate he so coveted would fill his life with such unceasing gladness, and yet, on the very day that happiness seemed at fullest measure, there was trou- 101 THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL ble in the sumac. He had overstayed his time, chas- ing a fat moth he particularly wanted for his mate, and she, growing thirsty past endurance, left the nest and went to the river. Seeing her there, he made all possible haste to take his turn at brooding, so he arrived just in time to see a pilfering red squirrel starting away with an egg. With a vicious scream the Cardinal struck him full force. His rush of rage cost the squirrel an eye; but it lost the father a birdling, for the squir- rel dropped the egg outside the nest. ‘The Cardi- nal mournfully carried away the tell-tale bits of shell, so that any one seeing them would not look up and discover his treasures. That left three eggs; and the brooding bird mourned over the lost one so pitifully that the Cardinal perched close to the nest the remainder of the day, and whispered over and over for her comfort that she was “So dear! So dear !”? CHAPTER V “See here! See here!’ shouted the Cardinal THE mandate repeatedly rang from the topmost twig of the thorn tree, and yet the Cardinal was not in earnest. He was beside himself with a new and delightful excitement, and he found it impossi- ble to refrain from giving vent to his feelings. He was commanding the farmer and every furred and feathered denizen of the river bottom to see; then he fought like a wild thing if any of them ventured close, for great things were happening in the sumac. In past days the Cardinal had brooded an hour every morning while his mate went to take her ex- ercise, bathe, and fluff in the sun parlor. He had gone to her that morning as usual, and she looked at him with anxious eyes and refused to move. He had hopped to the very edge of the nest and repeat- edly urged her to go. She only ruffled her feath- 103 THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL ers, and nestled the eggs she was brooding to turn them, but did not offer to leave. The Cardi- nal reached over and gently nudged her with his beak, to remind her that it was his time to brood; but she looked at him almost savagely, and gave him a sharp peck ; so he knew she was not to be both- ered. He carried her every dainty he could find and hovered near her, tense with anxiety, almost all the day. It was late in the afternoon before she went after the drink for which she was half famished. She scarcely had reached a willow and bent over the water before the Cardinal was on the edge of the nest. He examined it closely, but he could see no change. He leaned to give the eggs careful scru- tiny, and from somewhere there came to him the faintest little “Chip!” he ever had heard. Up went the Cardinal’s crest, and he dashed to the willow. There was no danger in sight; and his mate was greedily dipping her rosy beak in the water. He went back to the cradle and listened intently, and again that feeble cry came to him. Under the nest, ; 104 THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL around it, and all through the sumac he searched, until at last, completely baffled, he came back to the edge. ‘The sound was so much plainer there, that he suddenly leaned, caressing the eggs with his beak; then the Cardinal knew! He had been hearing the first faint cries of his shell-incased babies ! With a wild scream he made a flying leap through the air. His heart was beating to suffocation. He started in a race down the river. If he alighted on a bush he took only one swing, and springing from it flamed on in headlong flight. He flashed to the top of the tallest tulip tree, and cried cloudward to the lark, “‘See here! See here!” He dashed to the river bank and told the killdeers, and then visited the underbrush and informed the thrushes and wood robins. Father-tender, he grew so delirious with joy that he forgot his habitual aloofness, and fra- ternized with every bird beside the shining river. He even laid aside his customary caution, went hapa into the sumac, and caressed his mate so boisterously she frowned at him severely and gave 105 THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL his wing a savage pull to recall him to his sober senses. That night the Cardinal slept in the sumac, very close to his mate, and he shut only one eye at a time. Early in the morning, when he carried her the first food, he found that she was on the edge of the nest, dropping bits of shell outside; and creeping to peep, he saw the tiniest coral baby, with closed eyes, and little patches of soft silky down. Its beak was wide open, and though his heart was even fuller than on the previous day, the Cardinal knew what that meant; and instead of indulging in another celebration, he assumed the duties of paternity, and began searching for food, for now there were two empty crops in his family. On the following day. there were four. Then he really worked. How eagerly he searched, and how gladly he flew to the sumac with every rare morsel! 'The babies were too small for the mother to leave; and for the first few days the Cardinal was constantly on wing. If he could not find sufficiently dainty food for them in the trees and bushes, or among the offer- 106 THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL ings of the farmer, he descended to earth and searched like a wood robin. He forgot he needed a bath or owned a sun parlor; but everywhere he went, from his full heart there constantly burst the cry, “see here! See here!” His mate made never a sound. Her eyes were bigger and softer than ever, and in them glowed a steady love-light. She hovered over those three red mites of nestlings so tenderly! She was so absorbed in feeding, stroking, and coddling them she neg- lected herself until she became quite lean. When the Cardinal came every few minutes with food, she was a picture of love and gratitude for his devoted attention, and once she reached over and softly kissed his wing. “See here! See here!’ shrilled the Cardinal; and in his ecstasy he again forgot himself and sang in the sumac. Then he carried food with greater activity than ever to cover his lapse. The farmer knew that it lacked an hour of noon, but he was so anxious to tell Maria the news that he could not endure the suspense another minute. There 107 THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL was a new song from the sumac. He had heard it as he turned the first corner with the shovel plow. ‘He had listened eagerly, and had caught the mean- ing almost at once,—‘See here! See here!’ He tied the old gray mare to the fence to prevent her eating the young corn, and went immediately. By leaning a rail against the thorn tree he was able to peer into the sumac, and take a good look at the nest of handsome birdlings, now well screened with the umbrella-like foliage. It seemed to Abram that he never could wait until noon. He critically ex- amined the harness, in the hope that he would find a buckle missing, and tried to discover a flaw in the plow that would send him to the barn for a file; but he could not discover the ghost of an excuse for go- ing. So, when he had waited until an hour of noon, he could endure it no longer. “Got news for you, Maria,” he called from the well, where he was making a great pretense of thirst. “Oh, I don’t know,” answered Maria, with a su- perior smile. “If it’s about the redbirds, he’s been 108 THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL up to the garden three times this morning yellin’, ‘See here! fit to split; an’ I just figured that their little ones had hatched. Is that your news?” “Well, I be durned!’? gasped the astonished Abram. Mid-afternoon Abram turned Nancy and started the plow down a row that led straight to the sumac. He intended to stop there, tie to the fence, and go to the river bank, in the shade, for a visit with the Cardinal. It was very warm, and he was feeling the heat so much, that in his heart he knew he would be glad to reach the end of the row and the rest he had promised himself. The quick nervous strokes of the dinner bell, “Clang! Clang!” came cutting the air clearly and sharply. Abram stopped Nancy with a jerk. It was the warning Maria had promised to send him if she saw prowlers with a gun. He shaded his eyes with his hand and scanned the points of the com- pass through narrowed lids with concentrated vis- ion. He first caught a gleam of light playing on a gun-barrel, and then he could discern the fig- 109 THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL ure of a man clad in hunter’s outfit leisurely mak- ing his way down the lane. Abram hastily hitched Nancy to the fence. By making the best time he could, he reached the op- posite corner, and was nibbling the midrib of a young corn blade and placidly viewing the land- scape when the hunter passed. “Howdy!” he said in an even cordial voice. The hunter walked on without lifting his eyes or making audible reply. To Abram’s friendly old- fashioned heart this seemed the rankest discourtesy ; and there was a flash in his eye and a certain un- natural quality in his voice as he lifted a hand for parley. “Hold a minute, my friend,” he said. “Since you are on my premises, might I be privileged to ask if you have seen a few signs ’at I have posted pertainin’ to the use of a gun?” “YT am not blind,” replied the hunter; “and my education has been looked after to the extent that I can make out your notices. From the number and 110 THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL size of them, I think I could do it, old man, if I had no eyes.” The scarcely suppressed sneer, and the “old man” grated on Abram’s nerves amazingly, for a man of sixty years of peace. The gleam in his eyes grew stronger, and there was a perceptible lift of his shoulders as he answered: “IT meant ’em to be read, an’ understood! From the main road passin’ that cabin up there on the bank, straight to the river, an’ from the further- most line o’ this field to the same, is my premises, an’ on every foot of ’em the signs are in full force. They’re in a little fuller force in June, when half the bushes an’ tufts 0’ grass are housin’ a young bird family, ’an at any other time. They’re sort o’ upholdin’ the legislature’s act, providing for the protection o’ game an’ singin’ birds; an’ maybe it ’ud be well for you to notice ’at I’m not so old but I’m able to stand up for my rights before any livin’ man.” There certainly was an added tinge of respect in 111 THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL the hunter’s tones as he asked: ‘Would you con- sider it trespass if a man simply crossed your land, following the line of the fences to reach the farm of a friend?” “Certainly not!” cried Abram, cordial in his re- lief. ‘To be sure, not! Glad to have you con- venience yourself. I only wanted to jest call to your notice ’at the birds are protected on this farm.” “Tf have no intention of interfering with your precious birds, I assure you,” replied the hunter. “And if you require an explanation of the gun in June, I confess I did hope to be able to pick off a squirrel for a very sick friend. But I suppose for even such cause it would not be allowed on your premises.” “Oh, pshaw, now!” said Abram. ‘Man alive! I’m not onreasonable. O’ course in case o’ sickness I’d be glad if you could run across a squirrel. All I wanted was to have a clear understandin’ about the birds. Good luck, an’ good day to you!” Abram started across the field to Nancy, but he 112 THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL repeatedly turned to watch the gleam of the gun- barrel, as the hunter rounded the corner and started down the river bank. He saw him leave the line of the fence and disappear in the thicket. “Goin’ straight for the sumac,” muttered Abram. “It’s likely I’m a fool for not stayin’ right beside him past that point. An’ yet—I made it fair an’ plain, an’ he passed his word ’at he wouldn’t touch the birds.” He untied Nancy, and for the second time started toward the sumac. He had been plowing care- fully, his attention divided between the mare and the corn; but he uprooted half that row, for his eyes wandered to the Cardinal’s home as if he were fascinated, and his hands were shaking with undue excitement as he gripped the plow handles. At last he stopped Nancy, and stood gazing eagerly to- ward the river. “Must be just about to the sumac,” he whispered. “Lord! but I'll be glad to see the old gun-barrel gleamin’ safe t’other side o’ it.” There was a thin puff of smoke, and a screaming 113 THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL echo went rolling and reverberating down the Wabash. Abram’s eyes widened, and a curious whiteness settled on his lips. He stood as if incap- able of moving. “Clang! Clang!? came Maria’s second warning. The trembling slid from him, and his muscles hardened. There was no trace of rheumatic stiff- ness in his movements. With a bound he struck the chain-traces from the singletre2 at Nancy’s heels. He caught the hames, leaped on her back, and dig- ging his heels into her sides, he stretched along her neck like an Indian and raced across the corn field. Nancy’s twenty years slipped from her as her mas- ter’s sixty had from him. Without understanding the emergency, she knew that he required all the speed there was in her; and with trace-chains rat- tling and beating on her heels, she stretched out un- til she fairly swept the young corn, as she raced for the sumac. Once Abram straightened, and slip- ping a hand into his pocket, drew out a formidable jack-knife, opening it as he rode. When he reached the fence, he almost flew over Nancy’s head. He 114 THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL went into a fence corner, and with a few slashes, severed a stout hickory withe, stripping the leaves and topping it as he leaped the fence. He grasped this ugly weapon, his eyes dark with anger, as he appeared before the hunter, who sup- posed him at the other side of the field. “Did you shoot at that redbird?” he roared. As his gun was at the sportman’s shoulder, and he was still peering among the bushes, denial seemed useless. “Yes, I did,” he replied, and made a pre- tense of turning to the sumac again. There was a forward impulse of Abram’s body. “Hit *im?” he demanded with awful calm. “Thought I had, but I guess I only winged him.” Abram’s fingers closed around his club. At the sound of his friend’s voice, the Cardinal came dart- ing through the bushes a wavering flame, and swept so closely to him for protection that a wing almost brushed his cheek. “See here! See here!” shrilled the bird in deadly panic. ‘There was not a cut feather to be seen on him. 115 THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL Abram’s relief was so great he seemed to shrink an inch in height. “Young man, you better thank your God you missed that bird,” he said solemnly, “for if you’d killed him, I’d a mauled this stick to ribbons on you, an’ I’m most afraid I wouldn’t a-knowed when to quit.” He advanced a step in his eagerness, and the hunter, mistaking his motive, leveled his gun. “Drop that! shouted Abram, as he broke through the bushes that clung to him, tore the clothing from his shoulders, and held him back. “Drop that! Don’t you dare point a weapon at me; on my own premises, an’ after you passed your word. ‘Your word!” repeated Abram, with withering scorn, his white, quivering old face terrible to see. “Young man, I got a couple o’ things to say to you. You’r’ shaped like a man, an’ you’r’ dressed — like a man, an’ yet the smartest person livin’ would ; never take you for anything but an ege-suckin’ dog, this minute. All the time God ever spent on 116 & THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL you was wasted, an’ your mother’s had the same luck. I s’pose God’s used to having creatures ’at He’s made, go wrong, but I pity your mother. Goodness knows a woman suffers an’ works enough over her children, an’ then to fetch a boy to man’s estate an’ have him, of his own free will an’ accord, be a liar! Young man, truth is the corner-stone 0’ the temple o’ character. Nobody can put up a good buildin’? without a solid foundation; an’ you can’t do solid character buildin’ with a lie at the base. Man ’at’s a liar ain’t fit for anything! Can’t trust him in no sphere or relation o’ life; or in any way, shape or manner. You passed out your word like a man, an’ like a man I took it an’ went off trustin’ you, an’ you failed me. Like as not that squirrel story was a lie, too! Have you got a sick friend who is needin’ squirrel broth?” The hunter shook his head. “No? That wasn’t true either? Ill own you make me curious. ’Ud you mind tellin’ me what was your idy in cookin’ up that squirrel story?” The hunter spoke with an effort. “I suppose I BEY THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL wanted to do something to make you feel small,” he admitted, in a husky voice. “You wanted to make me feel small,” repeated Abram, wonderingly. “Lord! Lord! Young man, did you ever hear o’ a boomerang? It’s a kind o’ weapon used in Borneo, er Australy, er some 0” them furrin parts, an’ it’s so made ’at the heathens can pitch it, an’ it cuts a circle an’ comes back to the fellow ’at throwed. I can’t see myself, an’ I don’t know how small I’m lookin’; but I’d rather lose ten year o’ my life ’an to have anybody catch me lookin’ as little as you do right now. I guess we look about the way we feel in this world. I’m feelin’ near the size o’ Goliath at present; but your size is such ’at it hustles me to see any man in you at all. An’ you wanted to make me feel small! My, oh, my! An’ you so young yet, too! ‘*An’ if it hadn’t a-compassed a matter o’ break- in’? your word, what ’ud you want to kill the redbird for, anyhow? Who give you rights to go round takin’ such beauty an’ joy out of the world? Who do you think made this world, an’ the things 118 THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL *at’s in it? Maybe it’s your notion ’at somebody about your size whittled it from a block o’ wood, scattered a little sand for earth, stuck a few seeds for trees, an’ started the oceans with a waterin’-pot! I don’t know what paved streets an’ stall feedin’ do for a man, but any one ’at’s lived sixty year on the ground knows ’at this whole old earth is just teemin’ with work ’at’s too big for anything but a God, an’ a mighty big God at that! ““You don’t never need bother none *bout the dis- kivries o’ science, for if science could prove ’at the earth was a red hot slag broken from the sun, ’at balled an’ cooled flyin’? through space until the force o’ gravity caught an’ held it, it don’t prove what the sun broke from, or why it balled an’ didn’t cool, Sky over your head, earth under foot, trees around you, an’ river there,—all full o’ life ’at you ain’t no mortal right to touch, ’cos God made it, an’ it’s His! Course, I know ’at He said distinct ’at man was to have ‘dominion over the beasts 0’ the field, an’? the fowls o’ the air.’ An’ that means ’at you’re free to smash a copper-head instead of let- 119 THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL ting it sting you. Means ’at you better shoot a wolf than to let it carry off your lambs. Means ’at it’s right to kill a hawk an’ save your chickens ; but God knows ’at shootin’ a redbird just to see the feathers fly isn’t having dominion over anything; it?s just makin’ a plumb beast o’ yerself. Passes me, how you can face up to the Almighty, an’ draw a bead on a thing like that! Takes more gall’n I got! ‘God never made anything prettier ’an that bird, an’ He must a-been mighty proud o’ the job. Just cast your eye on it there! Ever see anything so runnin’ over with dainty, pretty, coaxin’ ways? Little red creatures, full o’ hist’ry too! Ever think o that? Last year’s bird, hatched hereabout, like as not. Went South for winter, an’ made friends *at’s been feedin’, an’ teachin’ it to trust mankind. Back this spring in a night, an’ struck that sumac over a month ago. Broke me all up first time I ever set eyes on it. “Biggest reddest redbird I ever saw; an’ just a master hand at king’s English! 'Talk plain as you 120 THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL can! Don’t know what he said down South, but you can bank on it, it was sumpin’ pretty fine. When he settled here, he was discoursin’ on the weather, an’ he talked it out about proper. He’d say, ‘Wet year! Wet year! jest like that! He got the ‘wet’ jest as good as I can, an’, if he drawed the ‘ye-ar’ out a little, still any blockhead could a-told what he was sayin’, an’ in a voice pretty an’ clear as a bell. Then he got love-sick, an’ begged for comp’ny un- til he broke me all up. An’ if I’d a-been a hen red- bird I wouldn’t a-been so long comin’. Had me pulverized in less’n no time! Then a little hen comes ’long, an’ stops with him; an’ ’twas like an organ playin’ prayers to hear him tell her how he loved her. Now they’ve got a nest full o’ the cun- ningest little topknot babies, an’ he’s splittin’ the echoes, calling for the whole neighborhood to come see ’em, he’s so mortal proud. “Stake my life he’s never been fired on afore! He’s pretty near wild with narvousness, but he’s got too much spunk to leave his fam’ly, an’ go off an’ hide from creatures like you. They’s no caution 121 THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL in him. Look at him tearin’ ’round to give you an- other chance! “TI felt most too rheumaticky to tackle field work this spring until he come ’long, an’ the fire o’ his coat an’ song got me warmed up as I ain’t been in years. Work’s gone like it was greased, an’ my soul’s been singin’ for joy o’ life an’ happiness ev'ry minute o’ the time since he come. Been car- ryin’ him grub to that top rail once an’ twice a day for the last month, an’ I can go in three feet o’ him. My wife comes to see him, an’ brings him stuff ; an’ we about worship him. Who are you, to come ’long an’ wipe out his joy in life, an’ our joy in him, for just nothin’? You'd a left him to rot on the ground, if you’d a hit him; an’ me an’ Maria’s loved him so! “D’you ever stop to think how full this world is o’ things to love, if your heart’s just big enough to let °em in? We love to live for the beauty o’ the things surroundin’ us, an’ the joy we take in bein’ among ’em. An’ it’s my belief ’at the way to make folks love us, is for us to be able to ’preciate what 122 THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL they can do. If a man’s puttin’ his heart an’ soul, an’ blood, an’ beef-steak, an’ bones into paintin’ picters, you can talk farmin’ to him all day, an’ he’s dumb; but just show him ’at you see what he’s a-drivin’ at in his work, an’ he’ll love you like a brother. Whatever anybody succeeds in, it’s suc- cess ’cos they so love it’ at they put the best o’ their- selves into it; an’ so, lovin’ what they do, is lovin’ them. “Tt *ud *bout kill a painter-man to put the best o” himself into his picture, an’ then have some fellow like you come ’long an’ pour turpentine on it just to see the paint run; an’ I think it must pretty well use God up, to figure out how to make an’ color a thing like that bird, an’ then have you walk up an’ shoot the little red heart out of it, just to prove ’at you can! He’s the very life o’ this river bank. I’d as soon see you dig up the underbrush, an’ dry up the river, an’ spoil the picture they make against the sky, as to hev’ you drop the redbird. He’s the red life o’ the whole thing! God must a-made him when his heart was pulsin’ hot with love an’ the lust 123 THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL o’ creatin’ incom-par-able things; an’ He jest saw how pretty it ’ud be to dip his featherin’ into the blood He was puttin’ in his veins. “To my mind, ain’t no better way to love an’ worship God, ’an to protect an’ ’preciate these fine gifts He’s given for our joy an’ use. Worshipin’ that bird’s a kind o’ religion with me. Getting the beauty from the sky, an’ the trees, an’ the grass, an’ the water ’at God made, is nothin’ but doin’ Him homage. Whole earth’s a sanctuary. You can worship from sky above to grass under foot. “Course, each man has his particular altar. Mine’s in that cabin up at the bend o’ the river. Maria lives there. God never did cleaner work, ’an when He made Maria. Lovin’ her’s sacrament. She’s so clean, an’ pure, an’ honest, an’ big-hearted! In forty year I’ve never jest durst brace right up to Maria an’ try to put in words what she means to me. Never saw nothin’ else as beautiful, or as good. No flower’s as fragrant an’ smelly as her hair on her pillow. Never tapped a bee tree with honey 124 THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL sweet as her lips a-twitchin’ with a love quiver. Ain’t a bird ’long the ol? Wabash with a voice up to hers. Love o’ God ain’t broader’n her kindness. When she’s been home to see her folks, I’ve been so hungry for her ’at I’ve gone to her closet an’ kissed the hem o’ her skirts more’n once. I’ve never yet dared kiss her feet, but I’ve always wanted to. [ve laid out ’at if she dies first, Pll do it then. An’ Maria ’ud cry her eyes out if you’d a-hit the red- bird. Your trappin’s look like you could shoot. I guess *twas God made that shot fly the mark. I guess—” “Tf you can stop, for the love of mercy do it!” cried the hunter. His face was a sickly white, his temples wet with sweat, and his body trembling. “I can’t endure any more. I don’t suppose you think I’ve any human instincts at all; but I have a few, and I see the way to arouse more. You probably won’t believe me, but I’ll never kill another inno- cent harmless thing; and I will never lie again as long as I live.” 125 THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL He leaned his gun against the thorn tree, and dropped the remainder of his hunter’s outfit beside it on the ground. “J don’t seem a fit subject to ‘have dominion’,” he said. “Ill leave those things for you; and thank you for what you have done for me.” There was a crash through the bushes, a leap over the fence, and Abram and the Cardinal were alone. The old man sat down suddenly on a fallen limb of the sycamore. He was almost dazed with aston- ishment. He held up his shaking hands, and watched them wonderingly, and then cupped one over each trembling knee to steady himself. He outlined his dry lips with the tip of his tongue, and breathed in heavy gusts. He glanced toward the thorn tree. “Left his gun,” he hoarsely whispered, “an it’s fine as a fiddle. Lock, stock, an’ barrel just a- shinin’, An’ all that heap o’ leather fixin’s. Must a-cost a lot o’ money. Said he wasn’t fit to use ’em! Lept the fence like a panther, an’ cut dirt across 126 THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL the corn field. An’ left me the gun! Well! Well! Well! Wonder what I said? I must a-been almost fierce.” | “See here! See here!” shrilled the Cardinal. Abram looked him over carefully. He was quiv- ering with fear, but in no way injured. “My! but that was a close call, ol’ fellow,” said ‘Abram. “Minute later, an’ our fun ’ud a-been over, an’ the summer jest spoiled. Wonder if you knew what it meant, an’ if you’ll be gun-shy after this. Land knows, I hope so; for a few more such doses *ull jest lay me up.” He gathered himself together at last, set the gun over the fence, and climbing after it, caught Nancy, who had feasted to plethora on young corn. He fastened up the trace-chains, and climbing to her back, laid the gun across his lap and rode to the barn. He attended the mare with particular solici- tude, and bathed his face and hands in the water trough to make himself a little more presentable to Maria. He started to the house, but had only gone a short way when he stopped, and after standing in 127 THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL thought for a time, turned back to the barn and gave Nancy another ear of corn. “After all, it was all you, ol girl,” he said, pat- ting her shoulder, ‘I never on earth could a-made it on time afoot.” He was so tired he leaned for support against her, for the unusual exertion and intense excite- ment were telling on him sorely, and as he rested he confided to her: ‘I don’t know as I ever in my life was so riled, Nancy. I’m afraid I was a little mite fierce.” He exhibited the gun, and told the story very soberly at supper time; and Maria was so filled with solicitude for him and the bird, and so indignant at the act of the hunter, that she never said a word about Abram’s torn clothing and the hours of patching that would ensue. She sat looking at the gun and thinking intently for a long time; and then she said pityingly: “T don’t know jest what you could a-said ’at ’ud make a man go off an’ leave a gun like that. Poor fellow! I do hope, Abram, you didn’t come down 128 THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL on him too awful strong. Maybe he lost his mother when he was jest a little tyke, an’ he hasn’t had much teachin’.” Abram was completely worn out, and went early to bed. Far in the night Maria felt him fumbling around her face in an effort to learn if she were cov- ered; and as he drew the sheet over her shoulder he muttered in worn and sleepy tones: “I’m afraid they’s no use denyin’ it, Maria, I was jest mortal fierce.” In the sumac the frightened little mother cardi- nal was pressing her precious babies close against her breast ; and all through the night she kept call- ing to her mate, “Chook ! Chook !” and was satisfied only when an answering “Chip!’ came. As for the Cardinal, he had learned a new lesson. He had not been under fire before. Never again would he trust any one carrying a shining thing that belched fire and smoke. He had seen the hunter coming, and had raced home to defend his mate and babies, thus making a brilliant mark of himself; and as he would not have deserted them, only the arrival of the 129 THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL farmer had averted a tragedy in the sumac. He did not learn to use caution for himself; but after that, if a gun came down the shining river, he sent a warning “Chip!” to his mate, telling her to crouch low in her nest and keep very quiet, and then, in broken waves of flight, and with chirp and flutter, he exposed himself until he had lured danger from his beloved ones. When the babies grew large enough for their mother to leave them a short time, she assisted in food hunting, and the Cardinal was not so busy. He then could find time frequently to mount to the top of the dogwood, and cry to the world, “See here! See here!’ for the cardinal babies were splen- did. But his music was broken intermittent vocal- izing now, often uttered past a beakful of food, and interspersed with spasmodic “chips” if danger threatened his mate and nestlings. Despite all their care, it was not so very long un- til trouble came to the sumac; and it was all because the first-born was plainly greedy; much more so than either his little brother or his sister, and he was 130 THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL one day ahead of them in strength. He always pushed himself forward, cried the loudest and long- est, and so took the greater part of the food car- ried to the nest; and one day, while he was still quite awkward and uncertain, he climbed to the edge and reached so far that he fell. He rolled down the river bank, splash! into the water; and a hungry old pickerel, sunning in the weeds, finished him at a snap. He made a morsel so fat, sweet, and juicy that the pickerel lingered close for a week, waiting to see if there would be any more accidents. The Cardinal, hunting grubs in the corn field, heard the frightened cries of his mate, and dashed to the sumac in time to see the poor little ball of brightly tinted feathers disappear in the water and to hear the splash of the fish. He called in helpless panic and fluttered over the spot. He watched and waited until there was no hope of the nestling com- ing up, then he went to the sumac to try to com- fort his mate. She could not be convinced that her young one was gone, and for the remainder of the 181 THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL day filled the air with alarm cries and notes of wailing. The two that remained were surely the envy of Birdland. The male baby was a perfect copy of his big crimson father, only his little coat was gray ; but it was so highly tinged with red that it was bril- liant, and his beak and feet were really red; and how his crest did flare, and how proud and impor- tant he felt, when he found he could raise and lower it at will, His sister was not nearly so bright as he, and she was almost as greedy as the lost brother. With his father’s chivalry he allowed her to crowd in and take the most of the seeds and berries, so that she continually appeared as if she could swallow no more, yet she was constantly calling for food. She took the first flight, being so greedy she for- got to be afraid, and actually flew to a neighboring thorn tree to meet the Cardinal, coming with food, before she realized what she had done. For once gluttony had its proper reward. She not only missed the bite, but she got her little self mightily 132 THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL well scared. With popping eyes and fear-flattened crest, she clung to the thorn limb, shivering at the depths below ; and it was the greatest comfort when her brother plucked up courage and came sailing across to her. But, of course, she could not be ex- pected to admit that. When she saw how easily he did it, she flared her crest, turned her head indiffer- ently, and inquired if he did not find flying a very easy matter, once he mustered courage to try it; and she made him very much ashamed indeed be- cause he had allowed her to be the first to leave the nest. From the thorn tree they worked their way to the dead sycamore; but there the lack of foliage made them so conspicuous that their mother almost went into spasms from fright, and she literally drove them back to the sumac. The Cardinal was so inordinately proud, and made such a brave showing of teaching them to fly, bathe, and all the other things necessary for young birds to know, that it was a great mercy they es- caped with their lives. He had mastered many les- 133 THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL sons, but he never could be taught how to be quiet and conceal himself. With explosive “chips” flam- ing and flashing, he met dangers that sent all the other birds beside the shining river racing to cover. Concealment he scorned; and repose he never knew. It was a summer full of rich experience for the Cardinal. After these first babies were raised and had flown, two more nests were built, and two other broods flew around the sumac. By fall the Cardi- nal was the father of a small flock, and they were each one neat, trim, beautiful river birds. He had lived through spring with its perfumed air, pale flowers, and burning heart hunger. He had known summer in its golden mood, with forests pungent with spicebush and sassafras; festooned with wild grape, woodbine, and bittersweet; car- peted with velvet moss and starry mandrake peep- ing from beneath green shades; the never-ending murmur of the shining river; and the rich fulfil- ment of love’s fruition. Now it was fall, and all the promises of spring 134 THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL were accomplished. The woods were glorious in autumnal tints. There were ripened red haws, black haws, and wild grapes, only waiting for severe frosts, nuts rattling down, scurrying squir- rels, and the rabbits’ flash of gray and brown. The waysides were bright with the glory of goldenrod, and royal with the purple of asters and ironwort. There was the rustle of falling leaves, the flitting of velvety butterflies, the whir of wings trained southward, and the call of the king crow gathering his followers. Then to the Cardinal came the intuition that it was time to lead his family to the orange orchard. One day they flamed and rioted up and down the shining river, raced over the corn field, and tilted on the sumac. The next, a black frost had stripped its antlered limbs. Stark and deserted it stood, a picture of loneliness. O, bird of wonderful plumage and human-like song! What a precious thought of Divinity to create such beauty and music for our pleasure! 135, THE SONG OF THE CARDINAL Brave songster of the flaming coat, too proud to hide your flashing beauty, too fearless to be cau- tious of the many dangers that beset you, from the top of the morning we greet you, and hail you King of Birdland, at your imperious command, “See here! See here!” THE END ae! s 4 va bya : wu ‘ iS \a F it ’ ‘;. ¢ * ry ra i as Sh i oy 5 +o) ee ge ar -URBANA UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS