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OLD FARM FAIRIES.

A SUMMER CAMPAIGN IN BROWNIELAND
AGAINST
KING COBWEAVER'S PIXIES.

A Story for Young People,
BY
HENRY CHRISTOPHER MCCOOK,
AUTHOR OF
"Tenants of an Old Farm," "American Spiders and Their Spinningwork,"
etc., etc.

ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY ILLUSTRATIONS.

PHILADELPHIA:
GEORGE W. JACOBS & CO.,
103 South 15th Street.
A. D. 1895.

Copyright, 1895,
by
Henry Christopher McCook.

PRESS OF
AVIL PRINTING COMPANY,
PHILADELPHIA.

                    In Tender Recollection of
       Boyhood's Home, Loves, Joys, and Trials Among the Hills
                       of ever dear Ohio,
                      I dedicate this Book
                             to the
                      MEMORY OF MY BROTHER
                     RODERICK SHELDON MCCOOK
                Late Commander United States Navy.
  An able, honorable and patriotic officer, he waxed valiant in fight
                      both on sea and land
              for his Country's honor and defence.
                         On this page
              The Author would keep green his Name
                            as the
          Roommate, Playmate and Companion of Early Days.

CONTENTS.

                                                             PAGE
PREFACE                                                         v
INTRODUCTION                                                 viii

CHAPTER
     I. HOW THE BROWNIES CAME TO HILLSIDE                       3
    II. SPITE THE SPY                                          11
   III. ADVENTURES OF THE BROWNIE SCOUTS                       19
    IV. THE BROWNIES VISIT GOVERNOR WILLE                      36
     V. MADAM BREEZE COMES TO THE RESCUE                       42
    VI. ATTACK ON THE OLD LODGE                                50
   VII. HOW THE FORT WAS SAVED                                 58
  VIII. THE SANITARY CORPS                                     74
    IX. NIGHT WATCHES                                          82
     X. THE GOLDEN MOTTOES                                     95
    XI. ON THE TRAIL                                          101
   XII. THE LOST TRAIL                                        106
  XIII. RAFT THE SMUGGLER                                     110
   XIV. A PALACE AND A PRISON                                 118
    XV. A PIXIE INSURRECTION                                  125
   XVI. BROWNIES ON A LARK                                    139
  XVII. HOW THE LARK ENDED                                    153
 XVIII. WOOED BUT NOT WON                                     170
   XIX. A BATTLE ON LAKE KATRINE                              179
    XX. A NAVAL MONSTER                                       192
   XXI. THE CHARGE OF ENSIGN LAWE                             203
  XXII. "HAIR-BREADTH 'SCAPES BY FLOOD AND FIELD"             210
 XXIII. A GHOST STORY                                         228
  XXIV. THE WISDOM OF THE PIXIES                              240
   XXV. BLYTHE'S FLUTE                                        246
  XXVI. THE HAUNTED GROUND                                    259
 XXVII. THE DISENCHANTMENT                                    268
XXVIII. OUT OF THE PIT                                        276
  XXIX. BREAKING CAMP                                         287
   XXX. THE GRAND ALLIANCE WITH SCALY, TWIST AND SLYMOUSIE    298
  XXXI. HOME AGAIN                                            321
 XXXII. ENSIGN LAWE'S MISSION                                 340
XXXIII. HOW THE MISSION ENDED                                 359

APPENDIX                                                      385

PREFACE.

This preface shall be a personal explanation. The following book was
written during the winter of 1876-77, more than eighteen years ago. Its
origin was in this wise: Some of my readers will know that for more than
twenty years I have studied the habits of our spider fauna. During the
first years of these studies, the thought came to me to write a book for
youth wherein my observations should be personified in the imaginary
creatures of fairy lore, and thus float into the young mind some of my
natural history findings in such pleasant form that they would be
received quite unconsciously, and at least an impression thereof
retained with sufficient accuracy to open the way to more serious
lessons in the future.

It further seemed to me that the fairies of Scotland, with whom I had
been familiar from childhood, might afford vivid personalities for my
plan. Accordingly, the spiders were assigned the part of Pixies or
goblins, the ill-natured fairies of Scotland and Northern England. The
Brownies, or friendly folk, the "gude neebours," or household fairies,
were made to personify those insect forms, especially those useful to
man, against which spiders wage continual war. Moreover, to express the
relations of the lower creatures to human life, and their actual as well
as imaginary interdependence, human characters were introduced, and
conflicts between Pixies and Brownies were interwoven with their
behaviour.

This purely personal statement has been intruded upon the reader to
explain that the Brownies, as represented in this book, are not
imitations. They antedated, by a number of years, the popular creations
of Mr. Palmer Cox. The writer well understands as a naturalist that
priority depends not upon originality of intention or invention, or even
of preparation, but upon precedence in publication. It will be found,
however, that my conception and treatment of these wee folk differ from
those of Mr. Cox. As they appear to me from the recollections of
childhood, they have a more serious aspect, a more human-like nature,
which ought not to be wholly sacrificed to their jovial characteristics.
I have therefore presented the Brownies as beings with humanized
affections, passions and methods reflected in miniature.

I confess some qualms, on the scientific side of my conscience, at
compelling my friends, the spiders, to play the part of Pixies. But
there seemed no other course out of regard both to common belief and the
necessity imposed by the facts. As I went on with the work, I wondered
at the ductility with which the current habits of the aranead tribes
yielded to personification. The water spiders permitted the introduction
of smugglers, pirates and sailors; the burrowing and trapdoor spiders
opened up tales of caves and subterranean abodes; the ballooning spiders
permitted an adaptation of modern military methods of reconnoissance;
and so on through a long list of aranead habits.

In order to make this more apparent, and to give adult readers, parents
and teachers, and the older class of youthful readers, a scientific key
to the various situations, brief notes have been added in an Appendix,
to which foot-note references have been made in most of the chapters.
Moreover, the natural habits personified are interpreted by figures set
into the text with no explanation but the legend written thereunder.

The crudely drawn cuts which figure in the pages as "The Boy's
Illustrations" are exact reproductions of sketches made by a lad in my
own family, between eight and nine years old, to whom, with others, the
manuscript was read as a sort of test of its quality. Encouraged by the
advice of one of the keenest and most sympathetic students of child life
in America, I have ventured to give a few of these drawings to the
public, as a curious study in the operations of child-mind.

I had agreed with myself not to print the Brownie Book until my
scientific work upon the spiders was finished, and the manuscript
remained untouched until the winter of 1885-6. At that time I seemed to
see the nearing end of my studies, and portions of the Brownie-Pixie
story were distributed to various artists, among them Mr. Dan. C. Beard
and Mr. Harry L. Poore. Some of the illustrations at that time made,
appear in the following pages, bearing date 1886. "Tenants of an Old
Farm" had now appeared, and was so well received that it was thought
advisable to connect this book with that by an "Introductory Chapter"
intended for older readers, and which gives the key to the motive of the
story. Early in 1886 I recalled all contracts and arrangements for
publication, as a prolonged sickness compelled me to drop scientific
work and defer the issue of the "American Spiders." On the very day that
the binders placed the first finished copy of the third and last volume
of that work in my hands, the "copy" of "Old Farm Fairies" went to the
printer.

                                                    H. C. McC.

THE MANSE, PHILADELPHIA, _May 21, A. D. 1895._

THE INTRODUCTION.

AN INTRODUCTION.

[Illustration: pointing finger] This Chapter is for Grownups only.
Children will please skip it.

THE SCHOOLMISTRESS AND THE FAIRIES.

In the south yard of the Old Farm at Highwood there stands a noble Elm
tree. Its massive proportions, the stately pose of its furrowed trunk
and the graceful outlines of its drooping branches have often drawn my
pleased eyes and awakened admiration. There is nothing in Nature that
better serves to stir up human enthusiasm than a fine tree; and as our
vicinage for miles around abounds in worthy examples of American forest
growths, there is ample opportunity for such sentiment to be kept aglow
in the hearts of the Tenants at the Old Farm. Yet it must be confessed
that there is also occasion at times for a kindling of quite another
sort, when the stupidity, perversity, and penuriousness of men wage a
vandal war against the noble monarchs of the woods.

The fall of a huge tree is a touching sight. See! the trunk trembles
upon the last few fibres that stand in the gap which the axman has made.
A shiver runs through the foliage to the summit and circumference of the
branches. The tree-top bows with slightest trace of a lurch to one
side. Then it sinks--slowly, faster, fast! With no undignified rush, but
with a stately sweep it descends to the earth. Crash! The ground
trembles at the fall. The nethermost branches in their breakage explode
sharply like a farewell volley of soldiers over a comrade's grave.
Boughs, twigs and leaves vibrate, as with a passionate earnestness of
grief, for a few moments, and then are still. There, prone upon the
forest mould the glorious monarch lies, majestic even in its fallen
estate. A few bunches of human muscle, a keen steel edge and a scant
fraction of time have destroyed two centuries of Nature's cunning work.

Well, one is inclined to so vary the version of a certain Scripture Text
that it shall read "a man was infamous" rather than "a man was famous
according as he had lifted up axes upon the thick trees."[A]

Of course Mr. Gladstone, and the multitude of undistinguished axmen who
delight to fall a tree, have an honorable and lawful vocation. Trees
ripen, like other animate things, and when they are full ripe they may
be felled; when their time has come they ought to fall; when the
exigencies of higher intelligences truly require, they also must fall
before their time. But, this brings no justification of that murderous
idiocy which sets so many citizen sovereigns of America to slaughtering
the grand sovereigns of the plant world.

[Illustration: FIG. 1.--The Forest Monarch's Fall. The Brownie's Grief
and Anger Thereat.]

However, all this perhaps has little to do with our great Elm, except,
that one must be grateful that it has been spared to cause the eyes to
rejoice in its beauty and to refresh us with its shade. We built a
rustic seat, against its trunk, and there in the warm summer days and
evenings which succeeded the winter of our coming to the Old Farm, I was
wont to sit and meditate, and sometimes doze. It was a favorite spot
with me, but others of the family often shared it with me, or enjoyed it
by themselves. This will well enough introduce a matter which I have now
to lay before the reader. It came to me from the Schoolmistress, who, I
venture to hope, is not forgotten by the readers of "The Tenants of An
Old Farm."

   My dear Mr. Mayfield:

   The package that I herewith send you has a strange history which
   I beg to recite ere you break the wrappings and examine the
   contents of the parcel.

   It happened during one of the warm days of last June that I sat
   on the rustic bench under the Great Elm and read Mr. Lowell's
   "Vision of Sir Launfal." I closed the book and thought, with an
   exquisite sense of its beauty and fitness, upon the poet's
   opening verses which contain a description of June, and in which
   are these lines:

       "'Tis Heaven alone that is given away,
        'Tis only God may be had for the asking;
         There is no price set on the lavish Summer,
         And June may be had by the poorest comer."

   As I conned the words my eyes slowly wandered along the
   landscape, and my heart rejoiced in the royal bounty of beauty
   which the poet sings. Then my vision returned to the objects just
   around me, and gradually became fixed upon some of the living
   things about which you have kindly told us so much new and
   interesting. Indeed, they seemed already like old friends, and I
   watched with keen zest their various movements.

   How bright everything was, and how peaceful the tone of Nature!
   Butterflies flitted by, beating the air in their leisurely way,
   then rested on leaf or flower while they opened and closed their
   wings with graceful, fanlike movements. The winged Hymenoptera
   dashed by with the sharp, quick wingstroke of their kind, or hung
   humming above the flowers. Honey-bees, Carpenter-bees,
   Digger-wasps, the blue Mud-dauber, the brown Paper-wasp, Hornets
   and Yellow-jackets were busy at their various occupations. One
   dusted pollen into its "basket;" another dumped aromatic pellets
   of sawdust from a cedar rail; another scooped up mandible
   hodfulls of mortar at the edge of the brook; others plucked
   chiplets of old wood from a weathered fence post; all seemed
   happy, and devoted to peaceful industry.

   The great green Grasshopper was in hearing, if not in sight, the
   veritable "hopper" whose long threadlike antennæ and wedge shaped
   head you have taught us to recognize as marking the true from the
   so called grasshopper or locust. He sat upon the tall grass on
   the bank of the Run close by the spring house, and shrilled his
   piping love call to his mate. The annual Cicada, too ("Pruinosa"
   you called it), was sounding his amorous drum from the trees with
   a volume and sharpness of sound that far exceed those of his
   cousin german the Seventeen Year Cicada. His silent ladylove
   might occasionally be seen flitting from bough to bough. An
   Orbweaving spider's web was spun upon an adjacent bush, and three
   courtiers were established at different parts of the margin of
   the snare awaiting the complaisance of Madam Aranea the
   housekeeper. Near my feet a bevy of Fuscous Ants[B] were tugging
   with great to-do at a crumb of sweet cake, while their fellow
   formicarians were equally concerned in covering and screening the
   gate of their nest that lay to the right under the verge of the
   Elm's shadow. Birds of several species were near by; Robins
   whistled in the meadow, a Vireo sang in the tree tops, Sparrows
   twittered around the birdcote; Hens cackled in the barnyard, and
   wakened the hearty, answering "Tuk-aw, tuk-aw!" of the big red
   Rooster. Out in the lane Sarah's conch shell was sending a
   melodious call to Hugh whom the Mistress had bidden her to summon
   from the wood pasture. The whole aspect of Nature, indeed, was so
   charming that I was soothed into a delicious repose of body and
   mind.

   I am conscious, dear Sir, that I shall lay a heavy tax upon your
   credulity by what I am now to relate. Or, perhaps, you will smile
   and say that your friend Abby has fallen to dreams and visions,
   and like some of her young pupils has imagination so little
   disciplined as to be quite unable to distinguish between a vivid
   waking fancy or dream of sleep, and a real occurrence. Very well,
   I must bear your unbelief as best I may, and at all events you
   will listen to my story.

   Will you believe that among the Tenants of our Old Farm is a
   nation of Fairies? You have not suspected their existence
   heretofore; but then, neither did I suspect that legions of
   curious beings are all around us until the wand of your knowledge
   had touched my eyes, and opened them to the wonderful life
   histories that are being wrought out among our fellow tenants of
   the insect world.

[Illustration: THE BOY'S ILLUSTRATION.
FIG. 2.--Queen Fancy and the Schoolmistress.[C]]

   Such, at least, was my own thought as I saw several wee dainty
   bodies spring from the backs of some Honey-bees hovering over the
   white clover, after the fashion of a rider dismounting from his
   horse, and another group alight from a bevy of yellow Butterflies
   that fluttered low down and just above the walk. They were joined
   by many others of like appearance, who suddenly emerged from the
   grass, from the flower border, from the drooping leaves of the
   Elm, and approached me. They clambered up the English Ivy that
   clings to the south side of the tree; they climbed upon the
   rustic bench, and a few even ventured upon the gnarled arm
   against which my elbow rested. This seemed a novel occurrence,
   certainly; but I assure you that I was rather pleased than
   surprised thereby, for it at once linked itself with your strange
   histories of insects, and seemed a natural and matter-of-course
   affair. Really, I have come to think that Nature has so many rare
   and beautiful facts hidden away in her secret places that one
   must never be surprised to see or hear of the most marvelous
   happenings. One of the brightest and most prettily robed of these
   tiny people, who seemed to be a sort of queen among them, drew
   quite near and addressed me.

   "You are not alarmed at our appearance. Good! Fairies do not
   visit those who doubt or fear them. We are pleased to see you
   smile upon us. Thanks! We give you greeting! Would you like to
   know who we are? Yes? Well, we are called Brownies. Our folk came
   from Scotland. You know where that is?"

   "Oh, yes," I replied, speaking, I suppose, quite mechanically,
   "Scotland is the northern part of the island of Great Britain; it
   is bounded on the south by England, on the east by the Ger----"

   "Never mind the boundary," interrupted the Brownie with a
   dainty, tinkling laugh, "we are not a Schoolmistress and her
   Committee, and you needn't say your lesson now. It's enough for
   us that you know where Scotland is,--the dear auld land o' cakes!
   We're Scotch fairies--Brownies."

   "But how came you here?" I asked.

   "Oh! there's nothing odd about that; we follow our wandering
   Sawnies wherever they go. We have all been interested with you in
   Mr. Mayfield's accounts of insect life, and have been present at
   many of your walks and talks when you little suspected such
   company. Ah! we could give the Tenant some hints well worth
   following up! Although, he does very well, very well indeed! But
   we wish you to know that there are other tenants on the old farm
   than those Mr. Mayfield knows. _We_ are here, you see! And,
   alack-a-day! there are other folk here not so agreeable as we!"

   "Many thanks," I said, "for the pleasure of your acquaintance. I
   am delighted and honored by your action, Madam--Madam? what shall
   I call you?"

   "Fancy; Queen Fancy, if you please; so I am called, although, to
   be sure, there is not much royal state among our folk."

   "I beg your pardon, Madam Fancy! And now I--fancy that I can
   explain the beautiful repose that lies over the face of Nature in
   this royal month of June. I have just been meditating upon it
   with delight. How peaceful, how lovely in their peacefulness are
   all things around us! Yes, I see how it is! The good Brownies are
   abroad upon the landscape, and they have thrown the light and
   sweetness of their own natures upon these scenes. What a happy
   people you are, free from all conflict and care, and how happy
   those who feel the spell of your influence!"

   "Oh! O-o-oh!" A chorus of exclamations uttered in a deprecating
   tone broke from the whole Brownie company.

   I started, and looked around surprised beyond measure at this
   outburst of protesting voices. Then followed a moment of silence.

   Queen Fancy spoke at last. "Yes, it is just as I supposed," she
   said. "You are yet a novice in Nature lore. You have much to
   learn, all you mortals have, ere you can know the true life of
   the inferior creatures. There is another side to Nature, I assure
   you, a very sad side, too. Come, I must teach you to read between
   the lines!"

   She touched me with a tiny staff or wand. My mind at once was
   wide awake and all its faculties more alert than usual. But,
   curiously, the Brownies had disappeared! I wondered at this, but
   presently a series of incidents caught my attention which for the
   time quite banished all thought of my new acquaintances.

   A long line of Sanguine Ants,[D] the Red Slavemakers, filed by me
   in irregular columns and crossed the walk to their nest which, as
   you know, is placed close by the fence nearly opposite the barn.
   The warriors carried in their jaws the plunder of a nest of
   Fuscous Ants which I have already said lies to the right under
   the verge of the Elm's shadow. Some warriors had yellowish
   cocoons, some white larvæ, a few carried the bodies (living or
   dead I could not determine) of their victims, and several bore
   upon their legs the severed heads of the poor blacks who had been
   slain in defence of their home, and whose decapitated heads still
   clung to their foes fixed in the rigor of death. I rose and
   followed up the column of Sanguines to the nest which they were
   plundering. Some of the kidnappers were plunging into the opened
   gates, others issuing therefrom laden with their stolen booty,
   others were engaged in fierce battle with groups of the invaded
   Fuscas. Only a few of the latter were inclined to fight. They
   seemed, for the most part, dazed by their misfortune. Numbers
   hung to the topmost leaves and stalks of the surrounding grass
   and weeds, holding in their jaws baby larvæ and cocoon cradles
   rescued from the invaders, with which they had hurriedly fled to
   the nearest elevated objects. It was truly a pitiful sight, and I
   began to wax indignant at the Sanguine wretches who could work
   such domestic misery and ruin.

[Illustration: FIG. 3.--A Red Slavemaker Ant with its Plunder.]

   "Ah!" said a faint voice close by my ear, "yet this is Nature!"

   I could see no one, but recognized the tone of Queen Fancy.
   "True, most true!" I thought, and looked further. A little way
   from the Fuscas' nest, just outside the circle of confusion, I
   saw a solitary ant of an amber hue, the Schaufuss ant,[E] which
   you have told us is also sometimes enslaved. She was moving back
   and forth with cautious mien, and I easily perceived was putting
   finishing touches to the closure of a little hole that marked the
   gate of her formicary hut. A tiny pebble was placed, then a few
   pellets of soil were added. Then the worker walked away, took a
   few turns as though surveying the surroundings, and cautiously
   came back. The coast was clear! Now she deftly crawled into the
   small open space, and I could see from the movements inside, and
   an occasional glimpse of a tip of her antennæ, that she was
   completing the work of concealment from the inside. At last her
   task was done, and all was quiet. Just then a single Sanguine
   warrior, perhaps a straggler from the invaders' army, or some
   independent scout, it may be, approached the spot. It walked
   about the nest, which certainly looked much like the surrounding
   surface; sounded or felt here and there with its antennæ; passed
   over the very door into which the Schaufuss ant had disappeared,
   and although it evidently had its suspicion awakened, at last
   moved away.

[Illustration: FIG. 4.--"It was Swathed Like a Mummy at Last"
(p. xxiii).]

   "Good!" I exclaimed heartily. "Baffled, Sir Sanguine, baffled! I
   am glad that the instinct of home protection has proved too much
   for your wretched kidnapping cunning!"

   "Aye, aye!" again spoke the voice of my unseen fairy, "baffled
   this time, perhaps. But can you be sure that the slaveholder
   scout will not be back again, with a host of its fellows, and do
   its work more surely?"

[Illustration: FIG. 5.--The Orbweaver Captured by a Wasp.]

   I had not thought of that, and indeed, I was pained to think it
   when suggested. Now I left the two nests, the plundered one and
   its preserved neighbor, and followed the column of Sanguines
   which stretched a nearly straight line of red and black for
   several rods, to their home. The kidnappers were bearing their
   prey into the open gates. Look at this! Crowds of blacks in a
   high state of agitation came forth to meet and greet the
   plunderers of their own fellows! Yes, these were the domesticated
   slaves of the Sanguines, themselves Fuscous ants, the same
   species and perhaps from the very nest that was now being
   desolated. And there they were rejoicing in the booty, welcoming
   home the robbers, and if naturalists tell us truly, had even
   urged them forth upon the Expedition.

[Illustration: FIG. 6.--"The Clay Sarcophagus on Yonder Barn."]

   "That's the worst of all!" I exclaimed aloud, unable to suppress
   my indignation. "One might find excuse for the Sanguines, but for
   this unnatural behavior--"

   "Unnatural!" echoed the unseen Brownie Queen, "unnatural? No,
   this, too, is Nature. You are only reading between the poet's
   lines of peaceful beauty. You will learn your lesson by and by."

[Illustration: FIG. 7.--"For a Ravenous Wasp Larva to Devour."]

   I went back to the rustic seat beneath the Elm, and thought. A
   butterfly flew by. I followed its flight. "Oh! that is too bad!"
   I cried involuntarily. It had struck the snare of the Orbweaving
   spider. It struggled helplessly in the toils. Swiftly the aranead
   sped from its pretty leafy tent along its trap line, and in a
   moment seized and began swathing its victim. A thick ribbon of
   pure white silk streamed from the spinnerets, and enwrapped the
   butterfly round and round as it was revolved by the spider's
   feet. It was swathed like a mummy at last, and left lashed and
   hanging to the cross lines, while its captor mounted to her nest
   and began leisurely to haul up the captive preparatory to a
   sumptuous meal.

[Illustration: FIG. 8.--The Cicada Wasp, Sphecius speciosus.]

   My pity had hardly time to express itself ere another insect form
   swept by. It was a blue wasp, a Mud-dauber. It flew to the
   Orbweaver's web. Another victim? It is within the toils! The
   spider leaves her prey and darts along the trap line. What? will
   she not venture? No! she recoils. But too late! The Wasp has
   seized her, plunged its sharp sting into her body, and shaking
   the bits of web from its feet flies away. I know what that means.
   The clay sarcophagus on yonder barn wall shall receive another
   morsel of preserved meat for a ravenous wasp larva to devour.

   What had I to say about this incident? This; I found myself
   unconsciously asking, "What will destroy the Wasp, in its turn?"
   But I had no leisure to meditate an answer. A beautiful creature
   flitted past me, whose colors of orange and black were distinct
   even in flight. It was the fine, large Digger-wasp,[F] the
   largest of that family among our indigenous insects. Just then
   from the branch of a small oak a Cicada sounded his rolling love
   call. A note not very melodious to human ear, it is true, but it
   throbs with the passion of affection, and must have been sweet
   music to his mate on the branch near by. Unlucky lover! your love
   sonnet has sounded your doom. It shall be your death song. See!
   my beautiful Wasp has pounced upon the amorous Cicada, and
   pierced and paralyzed like the spider before him, he is being
   borne to a grave in that grassy bank. There, in the Wasp's
   burrow, buried alive though with a semblance of death, he shall
   feed the maw of a hungry worm.

   "It is mother love!" exclaimed the unseen Brownie Queen, sadly I
   thought and tenderly. "But mother love seems cruel sometimes; and
   it alone has not taught the Wasp to spare the mating love of its
   fellow insects."

   This is not all that I saw, but this is such as I saw on that
   memorable occasion. My experience started a train of meditation
   that was the reverse of agreeable. But what could I say? I had
   been observing the facts of Nature, nothing more nor less. I
   looked away over the landscape again and my feelings were not
   what they were before. Underneath the surface of all this beauty
   and summer repose I seemed to feel the beating of a fevered
   pulse. Yes, the Doctor of the Gentiles spake truly: "The whole
   creation groaneth and travaileth in pain."[G] Yes, I was
   beginning to read between the lines! Verily, I perceived that the
   insect world in the matter of anxiety, struggles and sufferings,
   in passions of love, hate and covetousness, is after all in some
   sort a miniature of our own world of human beings.

   I do not know how long I sat pondering these things, but I was
   presently conscious that my Brownie friends had returned.

   "You have changed your opinion about some of the inferior
   creatures, have you not?" began Queen Fancy. "I know that it must
   be so. And now it remains for you to change your opinion about
   us. You think we are perfectly happy, never touched by such
   conflicts and cares as mortals and insects have. No! it is with
   us as it is with you and all the rest. One idea runs through all
   Nature and all her creatures high and low. All alike, from gnats
   and fairies to mastodons and men, have friends and foes, perils
   and pleasures, pains and joys, loves and hates, bitter
   disappointments and proud attainments; watchings, cares, strifes,
   battles, defeats, heart desolations, sickness, oppressions,
   despoilment, death--all these and the reverse of all these happen
   to us all."

   "It is true!" I answered, "I see now that it is quite true. The
   fact that creatures are small and unknown to us, and outside our
   ordinary region of feeling and thought, does not hinder them from
   having joys and sorrows, trials and triumphs even as we have. I
   will never think of Nature again, and of the insect world in
   particular, without remembering this double side of its life
   history."

   "That is very good," said Queen Fancy, "and now we wish you to
   remember also that Brownies are a part of Nature and share the
   general rule. Our lives are so interwoven with all natural
   surroundings, and with yourselves as well, that we feel keenly
   everything that goes on around us. But enough for this time. I
   promised you something further about our history. Now I make the
   promise good. I am to deliver to you the records of some of our
   kin which have lately fallen into our hands. You will read them;
   write them out carefully, and give them to Mr. Mayfield to edit
   and print. Nobody can do that so well as he. Indeed, his name and
   his stories about our Old Farm Tenants have gone among our people
   on the far Ohio border; and that is the reason why these records
   of the Brownies and their wars have been sent hither to be given
   into his care. There, I have done."

   Queen Fancy clapped her hands and a herald at her side blew upon
   a tiny shell, a wee miniature, for all the world, of the conch
   shell which Sarah the cook blows for dinner. Suddenly, a vast
   host of little folk issued from the grass plat along the slope
   toward the springhouse. They were arranged rank upon rank, whole
   companies in column, and they all were drawing at ropes no bigger
   than a lady's hair. Presently, I saw the round top of a rolled
   parcel emerge above the summit of the slope. It moved slowly, and
   I was puzzled to know by what force it was impelled, until I saw
   that it was mounted upon a toy cart which was being drawn by the
   Brownie host. On the night before I had been reading (it was a
   curious coincidence!) Wilkinson's account of the Ancient
   Egyptians, and had been especially interested in the manner in
   which their bulky architecture had been reared, and particularly
   in a picture that showed a colossal stone statue of some
   sovereign being drawn upon a sled by an army of laborers. The
   Brownie exploit reminded me of these old Egyptians. Here were the
   little folk of our Old Farm showing mimic reproduction of life on
   the Nile in the days of Abraham! Strange!

   The Brownie host never stopped until the parcel reached my feet.
   Then the Queen called a halt, and, turning to me, said: "Abby,
   Schoolmistress, we commit this precious roll to you. Receive it
   as a sacred trust; do our will concerning it, and be forevermore
   the Brownies' good friend." She clapped her hands, the herald
   blew his shell bugle, and in a moment the entire host had melted
   away into the foliage and were lost to sight.

[Illustration: (handwritten) NOTICE (pointing hand) 52 Brownies here.

THE BOY'S ILLUSTRATION.
FIG. 9.--Brownies Bringing the Roll of Records.]

   I have not seen them since, but I have tried to fulfill my part
   of the trust which came to me so curiously in the drowsy hours of
   that June day, and now I deliver my work to you that you in turn
   may fulfill your portion of the apportioned duty. That you will
   not fail is the confident hope of

                                    Your obedient servant,

                                                ABBY BRADFORD.

"What do you think of that?" I asked, as I finished Abby's letter, for I
had read it aloud to the Mistress.

"Perhaps," said the Mistress, looking up from her embroidery, "we had
better open the parcel."

A familiar twinkle colored her smile, that raised a momentary suspicion
that she perhaps knew something more of the contents than she chose to
tell. The advice was good, albeit deftly dodging my question, so I cut
the wrappings and exposed a roll of fair manuscript. "It is a story," I
remarked, after glancing over the pages, "a sort of historical fairy
tale, I fancy. But, hold! what is this?" My eye had fallen upon some
sentences that arrested attention, and I read several continuous pages.

The Mistress interrupted the reading: "Well, what has interested you?
And what have you to say about the whole affair?"

"I have been reading here a curious adaptation of the habits of my
spider pets, and it is neatly put. And here is another of the same
sort." I turned to a chapter further on, and read with great
satisfaction a few pages more. "Really," I exclaimed, "the natural
history is good, and is fairly inwoven with the tale. I have changed my
opinion of the work; it is evidently an attempt to bring out some of the
most interesting habits of our American spider fauna by personifying
them with the imaginary creatures of fairy lore. You want to know my
opinion of the matter? As to the manuscript I shall not, of course,
venture an opinion until I have read it with some care. As to the
author--well, perhaps you can tell better than I. When did Abby write
it?"

The Mistress waited a moment or two and then in her quiet way replied,
"Pray, how should I know? Abby is of age, ask her; she can speak for
herself."

Thus the affair of the Brownie records rested until I had gone over the
manuscript more carefully. Then the Mistress was again consulted.

"Will you print the papers?" she asked.

"I am in doubt what to do. I think that it might find a kindly welcome,
but--I fear the verdict of the public, especially the clientage upon
whose favor its fate most depends--the young people. Though, to be sure,
it is evidently not written wholly for them."

"I have a suggestion," the Mistress remarked. "Let us take two evenings
in the week and read it to our farm people. They form a typical
audience, I am sure, and their judgment will be a fair test of the
possible verdict of the public at large."

"The very idea!" I cried. "You have come to my help, my dear, with your
usual practical wisdom. Let us have the readings."

Behold us, then, the entire Old Farm family, with the exception of Abby,
who was absent on a visit to New England friends, seated around the
great Elm during the long June evenings, trying the merits of the
Fairies' history. When the early tea was over, we took our seats (or
rather positions, for some of the party preferred to recline upon the
grass), around the tree, and the reading began, and continued until
twilight. Sometimes I read, sometimes the Mistress, and in three weeks
the story was finished.

"Now for the verdict," I said. "The children first. What say you? Shall
we print the Brownie book?"

"To be sure," said Joe, "why not, Sir? I think those wars and adventures
with the Pixies are just the thing for boys like me."

"I would print it," said Jennie modestly. "I think the Brownies' love
stories are pretty indeed; though I don't like so much fighting, and the
Pixies are just horrid."

"Print it, Sir!" cried Harry enthusiastically. "I'm sure boys like me
will want to hear all about the Moth, Wasp, Bee and Butterfly ponies,
and the curious, wise tricks of the Spider-pixies."

"As for me," said Hugh, "I'm young enough yit to relish a fairy story uv
mos' any sort. So I vote with the youngsters to prent the book."

"My 'pinion hain't much good, I reckon," said Sarah, who stood half
concealed behind the Elm with her hands upon her hips in her favorite
posture. "An' I hain't no sort uv notion uv witches an' sich, no way.
Tho' laws-a-massy! I b'lieve in 'em; 'v course I do! But somehow, I
don't feel over comfo'ble to hev sech things a-prentin' about our Ole
Farm. W'at's people goin' to say about sech goins-on, any way? I don't
mind about the Brownies; like es not ther be sech folk. An' w'y not here
as well as other places? I don't know w'ere they'd find a nicer home
than jes' aroun' here; an' I'm pos'tive my kitchen's trig enough fer any
kind o' fairies as ever was. Folks as hev sense enough to use a conch
shell, now, as them Brownie heralds do, would be jes' likely to settle
at the Ole Farm. But es for them Pixies--w'at's the use uv sech
critters, anyhow? 'Tain't no ways comfo'ble to think thet they mought be
squattin' on our premises. Howsomever, I'd prent the book, I reckon.
Leastways, ye kin do it, fer all me, 'f ye're a mine ter. My notion is
it's a sight more interestener nor the Say-an-says. Though, they was
worth prentin' too, that's a fac'!"

"Now, Dan, it's your turn," I said; "what say you?"

The old colored man sat on a low stool at the outer margin of the family
circle, with his face leaning upon his hands. He raised his head, laid
his palms upon his knees, rolled his eyes expressively and gave his
verdict with all the solemnity of a judge passing sentence on a capital
offender.

"'Pears to me, Mars Mayfiel' an' Misses," he began, "dat dat's a
powerful good story, an' a true one, too! W'y, I've seed dem wery
Brownies myse'f. Uv coorse I hev!" he exclaimed emphatically, turning an
indignant glance upon Sarah, who had uttered a significant guttural
expression of unbelief. "W'at do you know aboout Brownies, Sary Ann, I'd
jes' like to know? Pixies is more in your line, a heap sight! Down in
ole Marylan', now, dar's a power ob Brownies and Fairies an' all sech
folkses. 'Tain't ebry one as gits to see 'em, dough. Dey's mighty
'tickler 'boout w'at company dey keeps, I kin tell _you_!

"I doan say es I eber seed any on 'em roun' dis Ole Farm,--an' I doan
say es I didn't. But dat's needer hyar nur dar. Dey's hyar, I knows.
I've done seed de signs ob 'em, many's de time. W'y, lookee hyar! How
d'ye tink dem insecks an' bugs and tings w'at Mars Mayfiel' tole us
aboout, done foun' out how to do dar peert tricks? Hit stans to reason
dat sech critters ain't got de larnin' fer sech cunnin' doins. W'at wid
dar nes's, an' burrows, an' cobwebs, an' cute little housens, an' all
dat, dey show heap moah sense dan some w'ite folks es I could name. Now,
whar dey gwine to fin' out all dat, I ax agin, an' how is dey gwine to
do it, unless de Fairies helps 'em? Dey jes' kine ob obersee de job;
dat's how it 'pears to me.

"Den dar's dat gubner Wille--shoo! He ain't no sucumstance ter w'at I
knows 'boout how de insecks, an' fairies, an' goblins an' dem kine ob
beins hes to do wid we uns. No, no!"--and he shook his head with serious
gravity--"no, Sah! hit won't do ter go back on dat. We cullud folks
knows heaps ob larnin' aboout dem critters; an' dey's jes' wove in, an'
in, an' in, an' out ob dese yere mohtal libes ob ourn! Dar's de
Deaf's-head moff, an' de catumpillars, an' de antemires, an' de death
watch, an' de cricket, an' de money-spinners, an' de measurin'
worm--sakes-alive! Dar's signs an' warnins fer we uns in dem critters
agin all de Pixies, worl' widout en'. Amen. Yes, Sah, hit's all right;
dat's a true story, an' no mistake."

"But, Dan," I said, "you haven't told us yet what you think about
printing the story."

[Illustration: FIG. 10.--Our Farm Family in Literary Council.]

"Needer I have, Sah!" the old man replied, rolling up the whites of his
eyes and shaking his shaggy, gray poll. "Needer I have! an' wat's moah,
I ain't gwine ter. I doan see much good in dem kine ob books no
how--specially de picters. Dar's like to be bad work aboout dem tings.
Hit doan do ter be too fumwiliar wid such tings. W'at's de good? Dar's
no tellin' w'at dey mought do ter we'ns, ef dey gits sot agin us. You
bes' keep clar ob dat business, Mars Mayfiel'. De ole Bible's good
'nough fer me, Sah; an' hit says dat much larnin' makes a man mad, an'
books is a-wearisome to de flesh. An' dat's a fac', Sah,--leastways,
readin' an' a-studyin' on 'em is. You kin do w'at you's a mine ter, an'
I 'low you'll prent de Brownie book, any way. Hit's mighty good hearin',
I'll say dat fer it, but--" he shook his head once more, and was silent.

The next day I wrote to the Schoolmistress as follows:

                                                 The Old Farm.

   My dear Miss Abby:

   I have gone over the manuscript that you sent, and on the whole I
   approve of it, and agree to print it with such editorial notes as
   Queen Fancy has suggested. We have also--the Mistress and I--read
   it to the Farm family, having revived our last winter's
   "Say-an-says" for that purpose. I have even translated bits of
   the story into simpler form and speech for the youngest member of
   our household, four-year-old Dorothy. Our young people are
   enthusiastic in their admiration, and vote to print the book. So
   do the others, with the exception of Dan, who is noncommittal.
   But the old fellow enjoyed the reading as much as the rest. He
   thinks the story a true one, and declares that he has seen the
   Brownies! You know his boundless superstition, and his odd habits
   of personifying all living things and talking aloud to them as
   he goes about his work. I have no doubt that he has peopled his
   little world with many queer imaginary creatures who may well
   stand to his undisciplined fancy for Fairies and Goblins,
   Brownies and Pixies. He has unwavering faith, also, in the occult
   influence of such beings and of insects generally upon the
   destinies of human kind.

   By the way, this unexpected deliverance of Dan's has eased my
   mind as to one feature of the story, viz: the manner in which the
   life and behavior of the Willes are interwoven with, and
   interdependent upon, the movements of the Brownies and Pixies.
   Since I have thought more about it, I have greatly abated the
   fear that the verisimilitude of such relations might not
   sufficiently appear to readers.

   In point of fact, the creatures of the Insect World, as
   personified in the story, have had and shall have much to do with
   determining the lot of man. The plagues of Egypt as written in
   the Book of Exodus, furnish an example; as also the incursions of
   cankerworm, locust, caterpillar and palmerworm recorded elsewhere
   in Scripture. African travelers tell us that the tetze fly has so
   circumscribed the geographical bounds within which certain
   domestic animals can live, as to greatly limit or modify
   civilization. We all know examples of the effects of mosquito
   supremacy at certain points of our country in determining the
   fortunes of men or places. The familiar stories of Bruce and the
   Spider, and Mahomet and the Spider, are also in point as showing
   how great interests may hinge upon the behavior of an humble
   animal. Here are facts enough, surely, to justify us in facing
   the public with Governor Wille and his relations to the imaginary
   folk of the story.

   In conclusion, I must say that I have been greatly interested to
   note how admirably the habits of my spider friends admit of
   personification. The so-called engineering, ballooning,
   cavemaking, sailing, and other operations, are so accurately
   described by those words, that the manlike qualities, motives and
   passions attributed to the actors seem almost natural. At one
   moment I find myself accepting the representations as a matter of
   course, and anticipating the conduct described on the very ground
   of known natural habits. At another time I am startled at the
   strong tone of human behavior that the descriptions so easily
   admit. Certainly, this is something more than what the
   naturalists have called "anthropomorphism." What is the
   mysterious ligature that binds in this sympathy of movements the
   sovereign will of immortal man and the automatic brain cell of a
   spider?

   Pardon me! it was not in my purpose to start so profound a
   question of philosophy and physiology. I only meant to say that
   the wishes of yourself and your Brownie acquaintances shall be
   cheerfully granted, and the manuscript be given to the public.

                                I am, very truly,
                                        Your Friend,
                                            FIELDING MAYFIELD.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote A: Psalm lxxiv, 5.]

[Footnote B: Formica fusca.]

[Footnote C: In the little company referred to further on, to whom the
manuscript of this book was read, was a friend's lad, eight years old, a
visitor at the Old Farm. The Mistress noticed him during the intervals
of the readings busy with pencil and paper, amusing himself with such
drawings as children are wont to make. A number of these had been made
and thrown away ere it occurred to the good woman to call my attention
thereto. I was much surprised and delighted to find that the boy had
been engaged in illustrating the Brownie Book (as we then familiarly
called it). It was a good sign of the value of the work that it could
produce such an impression upon a child of his tender years. Moreover,
the rude figures were so apt and interesting to my own mind, that I
fancied others might be equally interested therein. "Why not print
them?" suggested the Mistress. And upon mature deliberation that is just
what I resolved to do. No one but a child could make such pictures. Let
the adult, however good an artist, try as much as he may, he could not
reproduce such drawings. Indeed the better the artist, the further would
he come from achievement. That children will take at once to these
reflections of a child's mind, appears quite probable. Moreover, to the
thinking adult they must have a special value as a psychological study.
With all our knowledge of children, it is still marvellous how little we
know of a child's mind. These little tokens of its workings perhaps may
help us to a better knowledge. At all events, a few of these "Boy's
Illustrations" have been selected for engraving, and the editor will be
disappointed if they do not give to both his adult and youthful readers
as much pleasure as they gave to himself.--THE EDITOR.]

[Footnote D: Formica sanguinea.]

[Footnote E: Formica Schaufussii.]

[Footnote F: Sphecius speciosus.]

[Footnote G: Romans viii. 22.]

THE BOOK.

Old Farm Fairies.

A SUMMER CAMPAIGN IN BROWNIELAND
AGAINST
KING COBWEAVER'S PIXIES.

CHAPTER I.

HOW THE BROWNIES CAME TO HILLSIDE.

Not many years ago a company of Brownies lived on the lawn at Hillside,
the home of Governor Wille. Since the Brownies are Scotch fairies, one
must ask how they came to be dwelling so far away from their native
heather upon the green hummocks of the Ohio.

The question takes us back to the early part of the Nineteenth Century,
and to a Manse and glebe on the banks of Loch Achray, the beautiful
little lake that lies at the entrance to Trosachs Glen, quite near the
foot of Loch Katrine in Scotland. Here dwelt Governor Wille's
grandfather, a godly minister of the Gospel; and here he lived until
there grew up around him a large family of sturdy lads and lasses. Often
had the good minister looked over his household as they sat around the
table eating with keen relish their cakes and oatmeal porridge, and
wondered: "How shall I provide for them all? How shall I find fitting
duty and engagement for these eager hearts, restless hands, and busy
brains?"

At last he answered: "I will go with them to America, and join my
brother there on the banks of the Ohio River."

Now the Manse and glebe were the seat of a nation of the wee fairyfolk
whom Scotchmen call Brownies. The Manse site is on the skirt of Ben An's
lowest slope; and across the Trosachs road, upon a point that pushes
into the Loch, stands the kirk amid its kirkyard. The Brownies were fond
of this home, but they loved the Manse folk much more dearly; and so
when they heard the plan to emigrate to the New World, they resolved not
to allow their friends to go to America without an escort of their fairy
companions and caretakers.

A General Assembly of all the Manse Brownies was therefore called, to
meet under the "hats" of a clump of broad toadstools growing on the
mountain slope, close by the barn. The place was crowded from the stem
of the central toadstool to the rim of the outer hat. Outside this clump
the spears of grass, the drooping bluebells, and purple blossoms of
heather were covered with boy Brownies, who climbed up delicate stems,
smooth blades and gnarled stalks, much as city lads mount lampposts,
trees and awnings to gaze upon a procession. From these points they
looked upon their elders, quite as anxious and earnest, if not as well
informed as they.

When the Assembly had been called to order, the King of the Brownies
asked, "Who will volunteer to go to America with our dear friends, the
Willes?"

There was a mighty shout; not one present failed to answer: "I!!"

The explosion fairly shook the roof of their toadstool tabernacle.
Thereat the old monarch sprang to his feet, removed his plumed hat, and
stood uncovered, bowing his white hairs and venerable beard before the
Assembly, in honor of their noble response. The elders waved their tiny
blue Scotch bonnets, wept, laughed and hallooed in turn. The youngsters
danced upon the heather bells and swung from the grass blades until the
tops swayed to and fro, and cheered again and again for the Willes, for
the King, for the Brownies, for everybody!

By and by the King brought the Assembly to order, and proposed that a
colony be drafted from the whole company to go to the New World. "I
shall claim the privilege of naming the leader of the Expedition," said
he, "and I name Murray Bruce. The rest may go by lot."

Whereat the Brownies cheered again, for they were always pleased to
respect their good sovereign's wishes, and Bruce was one of the wisest,
steadiest, and bravest of their number. He was tall, strong, comely, and
in the prime of his years. Then the lot was cast. The names of all the
active Brownies were placed in the tiny corol of a blue bell, which
served as a voting urn. The King drew out fifty names, and these were
the elect members of the colony. The interest was intense as the drawing
went on. Again and again the King's hand sank into the urn, and came out
holding the wee billet that decided some Brownie's destiny. As the name
was announced, there was silence; but thereupon a flutter of excitement
ran through the company; a whirl of noisy demonstration marked the spot
where the fortunate nominee was receiving the congratulations of his
friends; sometimes a cheer was given when a favorite or familiar name
was announced.

"How many names have been drawn?" asked the King.

"Forty-nine," answered the Lord Keeper. Amid profound silence the last
name was drawn and announced:

"Rodney Bruce!"

It was the Captain's brother, a young and promising sailor, who had won
much praise for daring adventures with water pixies on "the stream that
joins Loch Katrine and Achray." His name was welcomed with cheers, and
then a buzz of disappointment arose from the crowd who heartily envied
the "Fortunate Fifty." However, the disappointment soon passed away,
for Brownies are a cheerful and contented folk. The hum of voices
ceased, and the people waited to know what might be needed to forward
the comfort and success of the emigrant escort.

"How shall we get off?" said Captain Bruce. "Has your Majesty any orders
or counsel? Has the Assembly any advice?"

That was a puzzling question. The Lord Keeper, Lord Herald, and all the
other lords and nobles shook their heads wisely and said nothing. Some
one called out the name of "Rodney, the sailor," whereat the old Lord
Admiral turned up his little red nose, looked contemptuously at the
speaker, and muttered something about "land lubbers." As no one had any
advice to venture, all waited for their sovereign's opinion.

"Hoot!" said the King at last, "Ye shall juist gae your ain gait.
Howiver, ye maun steal awa' unbeknowns, I'se warrant ye; for Parson
Wille, good heart! will never allow ye to risk anything for him. But
how? Well, I dinna ken; ye maun e'en settle that, amang yoursels."

The difficulty was no nearer solution than before. There was another
long pause. It was broken by a voice that called from the outer edge of
the Assembly.

"I can tell you how!" It was Walter MacWhirlie who spoke, one of the
chosen escort.

"Come to the front, then," said the King, "and say your say."

Every eye was at once fixed on the bold speaker. But MacWhirlie, nothing
abashed, leaped from the heather stalk on which he stood, and making a
double somersault above the whole company, landed erect upon the edge of
a leaf whereon sat the King and lords.

[Illustration: FIG. 11.--Brownie MacWhirlie Comes to the Front by a
Double Somersault.]

"Ugh!" said the monarch, starting back; for MacWhirlie had well nigh
alighted on his toes.

"Queak!" cried the Queen; and "queak, queak!" screamed the Princesses,
tumbling over one another in their fright.

"You rude beast!" growled the Lord Keeper, laying his hand upon his
broadsword.

But the youth and boys cheered, the young Princesses began to giggle,
the old folks laughed outright, the Queen smoothed down her ruffles, the
good King composed his countenance and smiled, and the Lord Keeper
smothered his indignation and put up his sword.

"Speak up, laddie," said the King. MacWhirlie bowed low first to the
royal party, and then to the lords. (My Lord Keeper's brow cleared up
somewhat at that.)

"I was passin' thro' the barn the morn," he began, "and saw the gardener
packin' the auld kist that lies on the barn floor, with tools, seeds,
roots and herbs. It's a gude place for hidin', is yon kist."

"That it is," exclaimed the Queen laughing, "I've had mony a game o'
bo-peep in 't mysel'."

"Aye, aye, so it is!" was the hearty assent from all parts of the hall,
while the lads on the outside signified their approval by cheers for the
old chest.

"A gude place for hidin' is yon auld kist," continued MacWhirlie. "I ken
naethin' like it for Brownies. An' if your Majesty please, we can a'
ride to America safe eneugh in that."

"It is gude counsel," cried the King, clapping his hands. "Forbye, I
would na thoct it frae sic a giddy pate as yoursel', MacWhirlie. Many
thanks, however, and mak' ready quarters in the auld kist for your
journey to the New World. Herald, dismiss the Assembly."

Lord Herald skipped to the front and sounded a bugle, which in sooth was
nothing more than a tiny shell fitted with a dainty mouthpiece.

"Hi-e-iero! ee-roo!"

[Illustration: FIG. 12.--The Old Chest on its Journey Across the
Allegheny Mountains.]

Then he struck his staff thrice, and cried, or rather intoned in a loud
voice these words:

    O-eez; O-eez; O-eez!
    Bide by the King's decrees!
    Brownies-O-bonnie, and Brownies-O-braw,
    Hither gae, hame gae, Brownies awa'!

At the last word the Assembly arose, and speaking all together,
responded,

    Brownies aye, Brownies a
    Leal and true, awa', awa'!

Then they separated, the elders moving soberly, the youth scampering off
hither and thither, leaping, chattering, cheering, making the grass
blades twinkle with their good natured frolic. In a moment the
toadstools were deserted, and a great spider-pixie crept under the
vacant central hat, and began to shake his head and talk to himself
while uttering a low, harsh, chuckling laugh.

Bruce, Rodney, MacWhirlie and all the elect escort, together with their
families, made the voyage across the Atlantic safely though somewhat
uncomfortably. But their trials were not over when they landed in
Philadelphia. The chest was hoisted into a big road wagon covered with
canvas, known as a "Conestoga wagon," and wheeled on for many days over
the Allegheny mountains. Down by old Fort Pitt it trundled, along the
banks of the beautiful river Ohio, to the frontier village of
Steubenville. There the wagon stopped. Parson Wille built his cabin on
Hillside. The Brownies, happy as the beasts and birds that were turned
out of Noah's Ark after the flood, were released from their prison in
the old chest, and took up once more old duties and pleasures in the
clearings, cornfields and garden of the new home.

That was many years ago. The good parson has long since been received to
a fairer Home than either Scotland or America ever gave; but his
grandson, Governor Wille, lives at Hillside. It is not the same Hillside
that the brave and godly minister first built his log cabin upon, you
may be sure. Great changes have occurred. But the same Brownies are
there; as good natured, as frolicsome, as fond of their friends and as
true to them as ever, yet, we are sorry to say, not so fortunate and
happy. What has troubled them?

CHAPTER II.

SPITE THE SPY.

When the Assembly of Brownies, which had been held at the old Scotch
Manse, was quite dispersed, a spider-pixie entered the vacant tent and
began to spin a web. He belonged to a race of sprites as vicious and
cruel as the Brownies are kind and good. They are called spider-pixies
because they do much of their mischief by means of silken webs or snares
which they spin, and in which they catch their enemies. The fact,
however, should work no prejudice against those remarkable creatures,
the spiders, which are doubtless worthy of all the loving attention that
naturalists give them.

The chief enemies of these Pixies (next to themselves, to be sure) were
the Brownies. Not that the good little fairies wished to harm any
creature; but then, as the Pixies wished harm to every one, and were
always showing their ill will by naughty tricks, the Brownies, out of
very goodness, tried to thwart their evil plans and save intended
victims from harm. Thus it came that the Brownies and Pixies lived in
continuous warfare. Many a battle had they fought on and around the
Manse glebe and kirkyard, for the Pixies hated Parson Wille most
cordially, and dearly loved to annoy him.

The Brownies were just as hearty in their love, and by close watching,
hard working and brave battling they had well nigh driven their enemies
from the place. Only once in a while a few, more daring and cunning than
the rest, would break through the boundaries and make a foray upon the
forbidden grounds.

Among the most successful of these leaders of mischief was Spite the
Spy. He was a great sneak, shrewd and sly, and well deserved his name.
He was a coward in the main, and loved best to do his mischief in an
underhand way. But for all that, he was so full of malice that he could
be quite venturesome rather than miss a chance to work harm to those
whom he hated. Thus it came that in spite of his natural cowardice he
had a fair reputation for boldness. It was this miserable fellow who
crawled into the tabernacle as the voices of the Brownies died away
among the grasses.

How came he therein? Having chanced to hear of the proposed Assembly to
consider the interest of the Manse folk, he set himself to spy out the
proceedings. How should he do that without being discovered? "Let me
think!" he said. He climbed up a tall weed that grew on the border of
the Manse farm, swung himself by a thread of silk from a leaf, and hung
there awhile, head downward, while he meditated.

"Ha! I have it!" he cried. He pulled himself up again hand over hand,
scampered down the weed and plunged into the thick forest of grasses. He
went swiftly, though cautiously, for a while. Then he ascended a tall
spear of timothy, perched himself atop of the bearded head and
reconnoitered.

"Yes, there it is," he said to himself. "I see the brown hat of the
toadstool tent; and--let me see--yes, sure enough, there is the Black
Pebble under which cousin Atypus used to have her nest. Any Brownies
about? No, the coast's quite clear. But, caution, old fellow! you are
pretty sly, but you may be caught after all. And they'd make short work
of Spite if they got hold of him once, I warrant." At this he chuckled,
puffed out his eyes, and swelled up his round pouch as though it were a
fine thing to be quite deserving of the Brownies' anger.

[Illustration: FIG. 13.--"Silken Snares in Which They Catch Their
Enemies."]

Spite was not long in making his way to the Black Pebble which was at
the outer edge of the Brownies' meeting place, and was imbedded in a
little bank of sandy earth at the base of which the toadstools grew. He
began to scratch in the surrounding soil. His claws soon struck
something that gave him pleasure. It was a bit of silken tissue.

"Ha! I am in luck! Here is the door of the burrow. Now we shall see,
brother Brownies, and hear too; and if there's any mischief agoing
Spite the Spy will have his spinner in it."

Spite had come upon the door of a cave or tunnel. When a few more grains
of sand had been thrown aside he lifted the tissue door and entered. It
was dark at first, and there was a musty smell in the air. Spite did not
care for that, and in a moment ran to the far end of the cave and back
again. This strange place had once been the home of a Burrow Pixie. It
was a tunnel scooped out of the sandy earth.[H] It ran horizontally for
a short way, and then sloped downward. It was lined around the sides,
top and bottom with a tight silken tube, and was about half an inch in
diameter. It was, therefore, a tunnel within a tunnel, a silk within a
sand one. The silk supported the sides so completely that not a particle
of soil could pass through. The upper part of the tube projected from
the earth, falling forward so as to form a flap which protected the
mouth of the burrow or cave. At first the tube had been much longer and
was bent and carried over the surface among the moss. This was the door
which Spite had been looking for, and whose discovery so much pleased
him.

"Well, well," said Spite, talking all the while to himself, "this is
lucky indeed. It must now be several moons since cousin Atypus was cut
off by the Brownies, and here is her old place just as good as ever. It
looks right into the meeting house. How fortunate! But I must fix up
this door a little, or I shall have those suspicious fellows smelling
around here; although I doubt whether they know anything about the
place. They caught Atypus when she had ventured out of doors."

[Illustration: FIG. 14.--English Atypus in Her Burrow.]

Meanwhile Spite was busy with the door. He laid a dry leaf and a few
bits of dry moss around the edge of the pebble, then gently lifted the
silken flap and crept within. He made a wee hole in the flap, and
through this saw and heard the proceedings of the Brownies. Little did
the good folk suspect that one of their enemies was so near, almost in
their midst. As for Spite, he was in high glee, although he was not
without fears. The boy Brownies had climbed atop the Black Pebble, and
crowded and capered upon it until they were like to shake it from the
bank, and send it arolling into the Assembly.

"Serve 'em right, the little plagues," snarled Spite, "if the old rock
did get loose, and break all their necks in the avalanche. Only, that
would make a gap in my burrow, and--well, it isn't pleasant to think of
the consequences."

Moreover, MacWhirlie and the restless youngsters who were mounted on the
herbage that grew above and around the Pixie's cave, were continually
tramping over the moss around the door, rocking to and fro on the
overhanging heather sprays till the roots fairly shook, and scrambling
up and down the little slope and over the flap itself. No wonder that
Spite's heart seemed to jump into his throat occasionally.

However, the door of the cave was so cunningly disguised and fitted into
the bank, that Spite was not discovered. He was well satisfied, for all
that, when the meeting was dismissed and the last of the Brownies
disappeared. He pushed open the flap, peeped out, then crawled slowly
into the light, crept down the slope and entered the vacant meeting
place. He was hungry; the labors and excitement through which he had
passed had quite exhausted him. He therefore crouched behind a toadstool
stem, and, after waiting patiently a while, sprang upon and devoured a
hapless fly and beetle that chanced to straggle that way. Then he wiped
his jaws with his hairy claw, rubbed his cheeks and head quite in the
fashion of pussy washing her face,[I] stretched a few silken threads
from the stem to the ground, and turned away.

"There," he said, "I leave those few lines to show that I have been
here, and that Spite the Spy is sharper than all the Brownies. Now for
home! King Cobweb will be interested in what I have to tell. As for
Parson Wille and his Brownies, perhaps they shall not escape us quite so
readily."

Spite gained great applause by this adventure, and when it was resolved
to send out to the New World some one to watch the motions of Parson
Wille, and do all the harm possible to his kind Brownie guardians, who
but Spite the Spy should be chosen? "You need take but few companions,"
said King Cobweb; "there are plenty of our folk in that country. I shall
send a letter with you to my cousin, King Cobweaver, and you can muster
a goodly company in America."

[Illustration: FIG. 15.--"Having Overspun Themselves."]

Now what should Spite do, but make his way straight to the old chest. He
discovered that in one corner the joints of the planks had sprung open a
little. "That will do bravely, I think!" He crept into the crack to try
if it fitted his size.

"Very good indeed," he exclaimed, and then ran to report.

King Cobweb was quite satisfied. Spite thereupon hid himself in the open
seam with two other Pixies named Hide and Heady, and, having overspun
themselves with a silken covering, made the voyage to America in the
old chest with the Brownies.[J]

When safely landed at Hillside, he reported to the nearest tribe of
Pixies. He was received with great favor as a distinguished foreigner;
was feasted, petted, and his wonderful skill in strategy heralded
everywhere. In short, he was quite a lion, and his fame was even greater
in America than on the other side of the Atlantic. Spite took his honors
gracefully, enjoyed them hugely, acknowledged them publicly, hobnobbed
with his friends, and took occasion when talking in private with his two
countrymen, to ridicule the customs and manners of American Pixies. That
was very mean, to be sure; but what better could you expect from Spite
the Spy?

In the midst of all his junketings and sight-seeing Spite never once
forgot the great object of his journey. He was spinning out his plots
against the Brownies, counseling with his American friends how he might
worry, injure and destroy them, and forming leagues for that purpose.

That was the beginning of troubles for the Brownies at Hillside.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote H: Appendix, Note A.]

[Footnote I: Appendix, Note B.]

[Footnote J: Appendix, Note C.]

CHAPTER III.

ADVENTURES OF THE BROWNIE SCOUTS.

The war upon the Brownie colony thus begun by Spite the Spy had been
waged from year to year until the third generation of the Willes,
Governor Wille himself, occupied Hillside. Sometimes the Pixies got the
advantage, sometimes the Brownies; but on the whole the Pixies gained
ground. Slowly the Brownies were being driven in towards the Mansion
house, followed closely by their foes. At last the malicious
persecutors, led by Spite, pitched their tents and reared a strong
fortification at the upper end of the Lawn. Their scouts bivouacked
beneath the very windows of my Lady Governor's chamber. This would never
have been had not Governor Wille lately grown heedless of his good fairy
friends, and left them to struggle without his sympathy and aid. For
Home Brownies lose heart and cease to prosper when their Home patrons
and allies forget and neglect them. The Brownies were sore distressed.
What should they do?

Early one morning the Captain and Lieutenant were in close consultation.
The Brownies watched them anxiously as the two slowly walked back and
forth underneath a rose bush in a border near the west window of the
parlor. The point under discussion was this: "Shall we make another
appeal to Governor Wille, or shall we first try an assault upon the new
Pixie fort?"

The decision was soon announced by the bugle call to "fall in." From
every quarter the Brownies crowded eagerly, and the column moved toward
the northwestern corner of the Lawn. There lay a pool formed by a stream
that bubbled from beneath the springhouse at the foot of the hill. The
Brownies called the pool "Loch Katrine," in honor of the lovely and
historic water in their old Scotch home from whose neighborhood they had
come. Just beyond the "outlet," the point at which the Spring Run issues
from the pool and goes singing down the hillside, the new Pixie fort had
been erected. It was called Fort Spinder, and was a sign and token that
Spite and his tribes had gained and meant to keep a foothold upon the
Lawn, the Brownies' special domain.

[Illustration: FIG. 16.--The Demilune, or Crescent Barricade.]

In a brief space the Brownie army had surrounded three sides of the
fort; the fourth side faced the Lake, and was safe from approach of land
troops. Then Captain Bruce sent out a number of scouts to view the Pixie
works and report upon their strength and the best points for attack. Let
us join the Captain and his staff, and listen to these scouts as one
after another they return with their reports. We shall thus learn
something of the Pixies' deft handicraft and cunning ways.

[Illustration: FIG. 17.--The Bell Shaped Turret of Pixie Globosa, of the
Wheel Legion.]

"The first obstacle that I met," said Sightwell, who was the first scout
to report, "was a line of barricades occupied by the Wheel Legion. This
is formed of round webs woven upon grass and weeds, closely joined to
one another and strung in a semicircular form along the whole front of
the fort. Armed pickets are stationed at the open centrals of the
snares. At either end of this crescent or demilune is a large orbweb,
surmounted by a tower. One tower is wrought out of leaves lashed
together by silken threads; the other is the bell shaped turret of Pixie
Globosa.[K]

[Illustration: FIG. 18.--Fort Spinder.]

"The centre of the demilune is occupied by a company of the Tubeweaver
Legion. They have built a broad, irregular pavilion above and around the
surface foliage, whose margin is lashed by strong cords to grass stalks
and other herbage. Near the middle is a long tubular entrance which
opens out upon the top."[L]

"Did you venture into it?" asked the Captain.

[Illustration: THE BOY'S ILLUSTRATION.
FIG. 19.--Fort Spinder as the Boy saw it.]

"No! I climbed a tall weed to reconnoitre, and from the summit noticed
that Pixies, whom I had seen to pass underneath the canvas, appeared
again through a round hole in the roof and thence passed down into the
camp. Then I descended, cautiously made my way through the grass, and
came near enough to see the opening into the tube, which is really the
southern or front gate to the encampment. It is set close to the ground
and is well concealed. It is guarded on each side by a sentinel. From my
weed-top observatory I could see that beyond the demilune, and between
it and the fort, the main camp of the Pixies is pitched. The space is
well covered with tents, and everything inside seems to be settled into
homelike and comfortable condition."

"Yes, yes!" exclaimed Bruce with an impatient gesture. "The wretches
evidently intend to stay--if they can. But what else did you observe?"

"Nothing important. I thought best to return with this news, while
Glideaway, who went with me on the scout, went around the demilune to
observe the front of Fort Spinder. He ought to be back ere long."

True to his friend's prediction, Glideaway soon appeared, slipped
quietly into the circle of officers, touched his Scotch bonnet and
awaited leave to report.

"Well," said Bruce, "what have you to tell?"

"When I left Sightwell," the scout replied, "I hurried around the west
side of the demilune, which bends in pretty close to the fort, and ends
in a tall, silk-lined leaf-tower. This is used by sentinels as a sort of
guard house, but I managed to slip by unobserved. I got into the Pixie
camp and moved about unnoticed, passed along the whole front of the fort
and came out on the east side. The walls of the fort are under charge of
the Lineweaving Legion, who built them. They consist of single silken
cables, crossed, knotted and interlaced into a mass several inches
thick. The cables are interwoven with and lashed to the blades of grass
and sprigs and foliage of meadow weeds, forming a strong wall."

"Could our troops break through or climb over it?"[M]

Glideaway shook his head doubtingly. "It would be a difficult task.
Engineer Theridion directed the construction and his work is thorough.
However, it might be done, and I for one am ready to try, Sir."

"And I, and I!" cried in chorus the officers and men who stood around.

"Thanks, my brave fellows," said Bruce, his eyes kindling with pride.
"We shall doubtless have a chance to try your mettle before long. What
are the defences of the front walls?"

"In the centre of the wall is a gate built by Engineer Linyphia of the
Lineweavers. It is a high dome hung amidst a maze of crossed lines and
protected beneath by a curtain floor, which is swung from the dome. The
dome is pierced for defence and observation, and a strong guard mans the
curtain. The main entrance to the fort is here, and all who go in must
pass underneath it, and through the guard.

"At each corner or angle of the fort is a gate like the central one,
except that the dome is reversed and becomes a bowl. On the flanks or
sides the fort is built and manned by Lineweavers and is precisely like
the front."

"Very good," said Captain Bruce dismissing the scout. "Who will report
as to the river front and interior?"

"We detailed our most skillful men for that service," Adjutant Blythe
answered. "Sergeants Clearview and True have charge of the scout. It is
a nice and dangerous service, and we can't expect an early return."

"Let us away, then, to put our command in the best condition possible;
and when the report comes in I will summon you."

The morning had quite worn away when the news came that the scouts had
returned. The officers speedily gathered at headquarters, where Sergeant
True and three of his men were waiting. Where could the others be? Were
they lost?

"We skirted the eastern face of the fort," began Sergeant True, "and
reached Lake Katrine. Then we saw that the fort is built some distance
from the water on the crown of the hill that forms the shore, which
there slopes down to the lake. The defences on the water front are like
those on the other side, but not so heavy. The tower at the angle is
different, however. It has been built by the Wolf Legion, and Captain
Arenicola is in command. It is a pentagon or five-sided turret of dry
twigs, like a log chimney, and is silk-lined within.[N] The Pixies'
skull-and-bones flag floats from the top.

"Here we held a consultation and agreed to divide our party. Sergeant
Clearview with Corporal Dare and three men undertook to survey the river
front. It fell to myself to explore the interior of the fort, aided by
Corporal Swiftsure and two men, Lookclose and Treadlight. Having bidden
good-bye to our companions, I explained to my men the delicate and
dangerous work in which we were engaged. Then we divided our squad into
two parties. I took Treadlight and pushed forward, having bidden
Swiftsure and Lookclose to follow at a distance that would leave us just
in view. In case of discovery or accident to either party, the first
duty of the other was to escape and tell at headquarters the facts
already learned.

"The fort is so newly built that the surface is not yet thickly covered
with snares, traps and crosslines. This greatly favored us. We found the
chief part of the fort to be an immense Tubeweaver's tent built by
Engineer Agalena. The central tube runs downward toward the Lake, and
opens out near a tower that guards the water front. The tent is built
around tall weeds which stick out like the poles of a circus pavilion,
and from their tips strong guy lines stretch to various points on the
roof, thus bracing it up.[O]

"We skirted the vast edifice as far as the central front gate, just
opposite to which we found another of Arenicola's turrets. From this
point, sweeping around toward the Lake, and fronting the tower on the
southwest angle, is erected a strong tent of the Tegenaria type. It is
composed of a thick sheet like that of Agalena, but this is drawn up at
the margin, making a sort of breastwork. Along the pouch-like depression
within are many sentinels for whom openings are pierced in the
breastwork. The system ends in a tall round tower, in which Captain
Tegenaria has his observatory.[P]

"We wished to cross the path between the front Linyphia gate and the
opposite tower, but it was so thronged by passing Pixies that we dare
not venture. We therefore turned back, thinking we had discovered
enough, and ought not to further risk losing what we had learned."

"A wise and patriotic decision," said Captain Bruce, "but how did you
get out of the Pixie quarters?"

[Illustration: FIG. 20.--Arenicolas' Tower and Stridulans' Drum.]

"It was not so easy to get out of their den as to get into it," said
Sergeant True, "as is usual when dealing with Pixies. We had scarcely
taken the back track when a terrible racket sounded from the tower
behind us. Now we saw that a big drum hung from the top of the turret,
upon which a gigantic Pixie was beating furiously. We knew that this
must be Drummer Stridulans whose beating sounds the various signals of
the Pixies. He was now sounding an alarm, which stirred the fort with
great excitement. Sentinels sprang to their posts: warriors poured out
of their quarters and ran to the ramparts. Soon companies were seen
hurrying toward the lake front, and amid all the rush and clatter
Stridulans' drum kept up its dolorous booming from the turret.

"A score of times we barely escaped detection by the Pixies who were
running to and fro; and we lay in our ambush almost breathless, nearly
hopeless of keeping concealed, and ready to sell our lives at the
greatest cost to our foes. Then we saw an officer run up and signal the
tower. The drum ceased, and squads of Pixies began to return from the
lake front in a quieter mood.

"We were anxious to know the cause of the alarm, and of its conclusion
too, for we feared it might concern Clearview and his party. Words
dropped by passing warriors confirmed our suspicions; but of the result,
whether good or ill to our companions, we could gather nothing. When the
fort had settled into quiet we continued our retreat; and here we are,
Sir. But, it was trying work and a close shave. We crawled through the
grass like snakes the whole way, until we had gone around the outer wall
and were fairly out of sight of pickets and lookouts."

Sergeant True's report caused great uneasiness in the Brownie camp as to
the fate of the river scouting party. At last an unusual stir around
headquarters showed that something important was afoot. An anxious crowd
gathered before the tent door, peering inside, where Sergeant Clearview
could be seen in the midst of a circle of officers. He looked sadly
draggled and worn; his face was bruised, his clothes limp and stained,
and alas, he was alone! Let us hear his story.

"When we parted from Sergeant True we slowly moved along the edge of the
Lake keeping under shelter of the sloping bank, and screening ourselves
behind the tall grass at the water's brink. We passed nearly one-half
the lake front of the fort, which we found protected in the same manner
as the other sides, except that the works are not so heavy. The Pixies
clearly intend the navy to defend that quarter from assault. However, no
ships are anchored in the stream. Indeed we did not even meet a boat of
any sort until we came to the remains of the Old Bridge that stood, as
you remember, nearly opposite the centre of the fort, where the water
gate is placed. There we came upon a skiff moored among the rushes.

[Illustration: THE BOY'S ILLUSTRATION.
FIG. 21.--The Pixie Waterman's Skiff.]

"'Here now is our chance,' whispered Corporal Dare. 'Let us seize this
boat, and we can safely pull along the whole lake front.'

"I agreed to this, as there were no Pixies in sight on shore. 'However,
we must take no risks,' I said; 'there may be a waterman hidden or
asleep in the bottom of the boat. We must approach quietly, and from all
points so as to cut off escape to the shore.'

"We crept through the reeds, and at a signal rushed together upon the
skiff. Three Pixies, huge fierce fellows, sprang from the bottom of the
boat and began a vigorous defence. One of our men was cut down
instantly, but the rest of us clambered over the gunwale and made a hand
to hand fight with our foes. The conflict was severe; we were nearly
evenly divided as to numbers, although the Pixies had much the advantage
as to size. However, we killed two of our enemies, but could not prevent
the third from escaping. He leaped into the lake and ran fleetly over
the water. We lost sight of him behind a clump of weeds, but knew that
he would at once give the alarm.

"'Come, my men, be quick!' I cried. 'Take the oars; there is only one
chance for us; we must push into the stream and pull for life.'

"The order was obeyed; we were soon beyond the rushes in clear water,
and having pushed the boat into the current, put her bow down stream,
and bent to the oars with all our might. For a few moments we thought we
should pass the fort unobserved. Then we saw several Pixies running out
of the gates toward the shore; others joined them; the boom of an alarm
drum somewhere within the fort floated over the water, and in a brief
space the shore was lined with angry troops. We could see Spite the Spy
directing affairs; and soon a large boat shot out from the banks full of
armed Pixies.

"'Out to sea,' I cried, 'Out!--and pull as you never did before. Our
lives depend on it.' It was vain. The boat gained rapidly upon us, and
soon nearly touched our gunwale.

"'Cease rowing, lads,' I cried. 'There's nothing left but to sell our
lives as dearly as possible.' Corporal Dare seized a boat hook and
plunged it into a Pixie officer who was about to board us. But another
took his place, and another, when he too had fallen.

"Taught caution by these losses, our assailants drew back from us, and
while Dare stood on guard, Dart and Dodge, the two other surviving
Brownies, and myself again took the oars. We reached the swiftest part
of the stream where the current sets in heavily toward the shore, and I
saw that we must drift in upon the beach. This also the Pixies saw, and
seemed content to keep near us, without taking further risk. The crowd
on shore followed along our course waiting for the final act. We were
very near, but tugged away, hoping against hope that we might be carried
past the jutting point and escape. Perhaps some such thought struck the
Pixie boat commander, or it may be his crew could not restrain their
fury. Several of them leaped out of the boat and ran toward us upon the
water. Some water-pixies joined them from the shore. Our boat was
seized. We dropped oars, and a death struggle began. Dart, after a
gallant fight, fell dead in the boat. Dodge was overpowered, captured
and bound. Corporal Dare was at last dragged into the water by two
sailors with whom he was in a hand to hand conflict and the three sank
together.

"I was alone. Wounded, nearly exhausted, overpowered by numbers, what
could I do? It was folly to fight the whole Pixie force. Plunging my
sword into the face of the boat captain, I threw myself backward into
the Lake as though wounded unto death. Amid the horrible clangor and
applause of the Pixies' victory cry I sank. I struck out beneath the
water, swam as far as I could, and cautiously came up to the surface. As
good fortune would have it, I arose almost within reach of a floating
leaf. This I grasped, edged myself around to the open water side, and
drifted. I saw that the two boats were being pulled ashore by the
excited captors, who were holding aloft on the points of their spears
the body of poor Dart. There was great rejoicing, of course, and then
the crowd slowly dispersed, bearing with them their prisoner, Dodge, and
doubtless thinking that the rest of the Brownie party had been slain.

"Meanwhile, I drifted on, and in spite of every effort to the contrary,
drew nearer the bank. The Pixie guard had now been doubled, and I feared
that I had escaped death only to fall upon it in another form. The leaf
lodged, and unluckily upon a bare, sandy point. There was not a blade of
grass behind which to find shelter. I therefore clung to my rude raft,
which swayed up and down, and turned round and round so that I had hard
work to keep my hold. Still, treading water, I followed with the leaf
until it reached a spot where some driftwood had lodged.

"'This is my chance!' I thought.

"I crawled up on the sand and lay down behind and beneath the flotsam.
The warmth of the sun was pleasant, for I was chilled by the water, and
was so exhausted that, would you believe it? I fell asleep! But my nap
was a brief one. It was broken by the sound of voices, and starting up
in a daze, I attracted the attention of the Pixie guard boat crew
engaged in patrolling the Lake. They turned the boat to the shore, with
a hurrah, and several leaped overboard and dashed toward me upon the
water.

[Illustration: FIG. 22.--Sergeant Clearview Takes Refuge in Argiope's
Nest.]

"There was nothing for it but to run, and that I did; over the level,
sandy bank, on, on--toward the tall grass beyond. The boat's crew were
soon on my track; the shore sentinels joined them, and away we all sped
pell-mell. Affairs seemed blue enough, it is true; but I had already
escaped so wonderfully that I had high hope that I should yet reach camp
and tell my story. At last--it seemed an age!--the grass was reached. I
plunged into the thicket, but the Pixies were close at my heels, too
close to admit of escape, for they were all fresh and I quite worn out.
As I passed a tall clump of grasses, I caught sight of a great pear
shaped egg-nest of the huge Argiope Pixie. I knew it well, for it was an
abandoned nest of the past autumn, built there during one of the
successful raids of our enemy. A happy thought came to me. I rushed into
the grasses beyond the nest, then turned, and doubled sharply upon my
track, ran back, sprang into the clump of grass and weeds upon which the
nest hangs, and swung myself toward it. There is an opening in the side,
a sort of door or window for the escape of the young. Into this I
dropped, and lodged safely upon the flossy paddock inside. I had barely
got in when my pursuers dashed by at full speed into the jungle which
they had seen me enter. The whir and clatter of their rush I could hear,
as many of the crew passed just beneath me. On they sped; the noise grew
faint, fainter, and died away. Then I knew that once more I was saved.
The bed upon which I lay was a soft one; it was made, in fact, of purple
and yellow silk; but I was not much inclined to sleep, you may be sure.
I lay close, however, until I heard the sound of returning footsteps.
Back the Pixies came in singles, pairs, triplets, squads; and by their
manner and utterance I learned their disappointment and rage.

"At last the place was quiet, and I ventured to look out of my little
window. No enemy was in sight. I crept forth, descended, and crawling on
hands and knees, after many adventures which I need not mention, passed
the front of the fort, entered the space beyond, and easily found our
camp. This is my report, Sir. It is a sad enough one, but such are the
risks of scouts; and I can truly say for my brave comrades and myself
that we did all that we could."[Q]

"No one will doubt that," said Captain Bruce. "We deeply mourn the loss
of so many brave and good comrades. May their memory be green forever!"
He withdrew his hat, and bowed his head. All present did the same, and
stood in silence for a moment.

"We all must bear the chances of life and war," resumed the Captain,
"and now let us take up the next duty. What shall be our policy? We have
heard the reports of the scouts; shall we make an attack?"

The council of war thus invoked, long and earnestly considered the
question. Had not their hearts and hands been burdened and stayed by
Governor Wille's neglect, the Brownies would have joyfully ventured an
assault even upon such a stronghold. As matters stood, however, they
judged that an attempt would only lead to useless loss and further
discouragement. They recommended that the siege of the fort be continued
as closely as possible, and that meanwhile Captain Bruce and Lieutenant
MacWhirlie make another appeal to Governor Wille. Thus the council
closed.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote K: Appendix, Note A.]

[Footnote L: Note B.]

[Footnote M: Appendix, Note C.]

[Footnote N: Appendix, Note D.]

[Footnote O: Note E.]

[Footnote P: Appendix, Note F.]

[Footnote Q: Appendix, Note G.]

CHAPTER IV.

THE BROWNIES VISIT GOVERNOR WILLE.

All that their unaided powers could do the Brownies had now done. But
the higher Decrees of Nature had linked their destiny with the will and
conduct of the Household whose welfare they guarded. Mysterious
relation! you exclaim. True; and the creatures of the Universe are bound
to one another and to the Great Whole in relations whose mystery none
has fathomed, and which perplex the wisest. So what could the Brownies
do, or what could men do in like estate, but continue steadfast in
watching and duty, and do their best to change the wills upon whose
action turned weal or woe, success or failure?

The truth is, Governor Wille had fallen into bad ways. It was a proud
day to the Brownies, and joyously had they celebrated it, when their
friend had been elected Governor of the Great State of Ohio. But joy had
been turned into mourning. New faces began to be seen around Hillside,
and they carried little spiritual force and beauty upon them. Rude
voices, coarse laughter, profane words, angry tones were no longer
strange sounds in the Wille Mansion.

The lads who read this will soon be voters. Let them mark this: the man
who goes into political life must take heed or he will be swept away
from safe moorings by a class of so-called "party friends," who are poor
companions and worse counsellors, and who elbow and crowd away the best
elements of community. Now, Governor Wille did not take heed. He gave
himself up to those who surrounded him for low, selfish ends, and
drifted under their convoy into perilous channels. As the Governor fell
off from the good old ways, the Pixies triumphed at Hillside, and the
Brownies lost control. That was the state of things when these Records
began. Indeed, it had well nigh come to such a pass with the Brownies
that they ceased to ask: How shall we beat back the Pixies? and were
beginning to wonder, How shall we escape with our lives?

There could not have been a better leader than Bruce. He was bold but
prudent, having courage without rashness. He was cool, hopeful and
persevering. All the fairies loved and trusted him. He had risked his
life a hundred times for them and theirs. He was covered with scars.
Amidst all troubles and losses he had not lost heart. But now he was
cast down and doubtful.

Never did captain have a better helper than Lieutenant MacWhirlie.
Active, tireless, with spirits that never drooped, and zeal that never
flagged; prompt, obedient, brave and intelligent, MacWhirlie was a model
officer. His one fault was that he sometimes failed in caution; careless
of his own life, he was apt to risk unduly the lives of his men. But in
the wild, guerilla warfare that the Brownies waged, such a fault seemed
very like a virtue. Therefore the Lieutenant was loved by his troopers
and honored by all. Affairs were truly serious when MacWhirlie became
discouraged; and he was discouraged now, beyond a doubt.

The fact that the Pixies were fortified upon the lawn, and encamped
therein, bag and baggage, was bad enough. Yet this difficulty, courage,
patience and skill might overcome. But the destiny which linked their
success with the behavior of Governor Wille, bore heavily upon the good
Brownies since the Governor had taken to evil ways. Therefore the
Captain and Lieutenant set out with heavy hearts for the Mansion. A
crowd of Brownies followed a little way behind their officers. They saw
them cross the Lawn, spring into the great Sugar maple tree, run along
the lowest limbs and swing themselves upon the sill of the chamber
window. The window was open. Governor Wille sat beside it in an easy
chair, reading a newspaper, and enjoying the fresh morning air.

The Brownies saluted him. He dropped his paper and answered the greeting
heartily.

"Welcome, good brothers, a thousand welcomes!" His tone grew less cheery
as he spoke the last words, for his eye caught the grave bearing and sad
faces of his visitors. He knew at once that they must have come on
serious business. Indeed, he might have guessed that at first, for
except at Christmas times, and on birthday and wedding anniversaries,
the Brownies rarely entered the Mansion unless some urgent need
required. They were always near at hand, the Governor well knew, and
hovered about house and grounds doing kindly deeds in secret. But the
family did not often hear or see them. In fact, Governor Wille had been
so busy, and was away from home so often, that he had lost much of the
old family interest in the gentle little people who loved and guarded
him and his so tenderly. Yet, he had not wholly forgotten them. They had
visited him several times of late with complaints about their own
dangers, and warnings about his. He had thought lightly of the matter,
and of that, indeed, he was a little ashamed. But, then, he was so busy!

He rose from his chair. "Brothers," he said, "Your sober faces bode a
gloomy message. I know you are never pleased to waste words. Speak your
errand freely. What troubles you?"

[Illustration: FIG. 23.--The Pixies Spinning Gossamer over the Eyes of
Governor Wille and Dido.]

"Brother Wille," answered Bruce, "we bring nothing new. It is the old
trouble about the Pixies the same complaint and warning that we have
urged upon you of late more than once. Our enemies--and well you know
they are yours too!--are pressing closely upon us. They have driven us
to the lawn at last, and even upon that they have built their fort and
camp. A little space further and we must flee into the house. And what
most troubles us is that they will follow us. Ah, brother Wille, our
hearts are sad at the thought of Pixies filling your home! We have done
our best and we come to you for aid. You must help us drive back these
wicked spirits. That is our petition, and our request."

The two Brownies stood quietly with their bonnets or Scotch caps under
their arms. Governor Wille impatiently crumpled the paper in his hand,
came to the window and replied. "Tut, tut, Bruce, it certainly can't be
as bad as that. You are a little blue this morning, I fear. Why, when
did Brownies ever give up to Pixies? It was never heard of!"

"Softly, brother Wille," said the Captain. "That has often happened,
right here at Hillside, too! And it will happen again you may depend
on't, if Wille and Dido do not soon bestir themselves to help their old
home fairies."

Governor Wille hesitated, ahemmed, and at last said: "I am loath to
meddle in this affair, and really, I don't see that there is such
pressing danger. I have little fear for my good, brave Brownie friends.
But,--I shall talk to Madam Dido about it, and if she is agreed, look
out for aid, and get your troopers ready for a good chase after the
Pixies."

The two Brownies withdrew, leaving the house by the way they had
entered. They looked sad, although they tried to hide their feelings
from the friends who awaited their coming.

"What is the news?" cried the Brownies.

"Nothing as yet," answered Bruce. "But we hope for good news soon."

"What will come of all this, Captain?" asked MacWhirlie privately.

"Very little, I fear," was the answer. "I can't think what has come over
the Governor of late. The Pixies seem to have spun their webs over his
heart."

"Over his eyes rather!" said MacWhirlie, "or his hands and feet. His
heart is still true to the Brownies, I am sure. But he can't or don't
understand our troubles and his own perils."

"Well, well, we shall soon know." With that poor consolation they sat
down on the edge of the lawn by the gravel walk and waited.

Presently Governor Wille and his wife Dido came out of the house, and
walked slowly up the path. Wille was relating his interview with the
Brownies.

"What do you think, wife? I fancy their stories about the Pixies are a
good deal exaggerated--by fear of course I mean, for Brownies are clear
truth always. Bruce said that the lawn was full of their tents and nets.
Do you see them? I cannot see one, and I've been looking all along the
walk."[R]

"I quite agree with you, my dear," said the affectionate Dido. "As for
the Pixie snares, I can see no more of them than you. Perhaps we had
better wait a few days before we interfere."

"A few days!" sighed Bruce, who heard all the conversation. "It will be
too late by that time, I fear!"

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote R: On a dewy summer morning one sees the fields and shrubbery
covered with innumerable spider webs of various sorts. By midday these
webs are invisible. What has become of them? In truth, the sun has
simply dried the dew which clung to the delicate filaments of the webs
and thus made them visible; and from careless eyes the webs are hidden,
as was the case with Governor Wille.--THE EDITOR.]

CHAPTER V.

MADAM BREEZE COMES TO THE RESCUE.

"Come!" cried the Captain at last. "Moping is no part of duty. If
Governor Wille won't help us, we must seek allies in other quarters; and
for the rest trust to our good swords."

He raised his bugle to his lips, and sounded a note or two, whereat his
Adjutant appeared.

"Blythe," said the Captain, "order out my pony, and get ready to attend
me to Hilltop. And you, MacWhirlie, see that every Brownie is armed and
ready for work of any kind at a moment's warning. No fuss, please; keep
everything quiet as possible. I don't want Spite the Spy to suspect any
unusual movement. He'll give you credit for a little lack of caution
when he finds you in command;" and the Captain laughed pleasantly as he
said this. "But mind! it mustn't be the genuine article, now. Try for
once to beat Spite at his own favorite tactics. Draw off the cavalry
pickets, but see that your troopers are ready for the saddle. Look to
the pioneer corps, and see that the axes are in good order. Saunter
around carelessly as you like, but keep your eyes open. Come, Blythe!"

The last words were spoken to his Adjutant who already stood holding the
Captain's butterfly pony Swallowtail, as well as his own. The Brownies
sprang upon the creatures' backs and rode away.

MacWhirlie watched the forms of the horsemen until they were lost to
view behind the gable of the house. "Heigh-ho!" he sighed, "the time
was when the journey to Hilltop was a safe and pleasant ride. But it's a
bold feat nowadays, with Pixies waiting at every corner, and their webs
flapping on every bush. But I must e'en leave the Captain with
Providence and go about my own business."

[Illustration: FIG. 24.--Bruce and Blythe on Their Way to Hilltop. Pixie
Attus Tries to Lasso Them.]

The afternoon was well advanced when Bruce and Blythe halted their jaded
ponies under the shade of a laurel bush, a little way from the Lone
Aspen on Hilltop. "Poor fellow!" said the Captain as he stroked
Swallowtail's drooping wings. "It was too bad to bring you on such a
service, with plenty of stouter nags in the stable! But we had to run
the gauntlet of the Pixies, you know, and those big fellows would never
have got through unnoticed. Think they can carry us back?" he asked
anxiously.

"I doubt it, Cap'n," was the answer. "But rest and a hearty meal may
bring 'em around all right."

"Very well; then do you care for them while I go to the Lone Aspen."

[Illustration: THE BOY'S ILLUSTRATION.
FIG. 25.--Bruce Whistling for Madam Breeze.]

The Lone Aspen stood on the summit of the hill. It was an old tree, with
wide spreading branches, and great girth of trunk. The trunk was hollow,
and covered with warts. One of these was quite near the roots, and was
pierced in the centre with a hole which exposed the hollow within. Bruce
stopped at the foot of the tree beneath this opening, and blew a
peculiar note upon a whistle which hung by a chain about his neck. There
was no answer. He whistled again. Still no response. Along the rough
scales and ridges of bark running up and down the trunk, a stairway had
been made like the rounds of a ladder. Upon this the Captain climbed
towards the opening. He stepped out upon a bulging wart and peeped
within the tree. It was empty. Again he blew his whistle. The echoes
rolled up and down the hollow trunk and died away far above toward the
branches, where a faint streak of light shone through an opening like
the one in which the Brownie stood.

"This is strange!" exclaimed the Captain. He turned, and looked up at
the Sun through branches of the tree. "Surely, Madam Breeze should be at
the Lone Aspen at this time of day! However, I must climb to the window
and wait." He sat down on the window ledge, and as he was tired out by
long journeys, hard labors and sleepless nights, in spite of himself he
fell into a doze.

"Ooo--oo--oo!"

A sound like the tones of a distant bell awoke him.

"Ha, she has come!" he cried, and jumped to his feet. Madam Breeze was
passing with her attendants through the door. Her voice sounded through
the hollow trunk as she swept into it. In a moment the Captain felt her
breath upon his cheek, and presently stood face to face with her at the
window.

She kissed him heartily, brushed the hair back caressingly from his
forehead, and addressed him in a sprightly, kindly way. Madam Breeze was
an Elf of pleasing appearance; plump to the verge of stoutness, but
singularly graceful and airy in all her movements. She was troubled with
an asthma which interrupted her speech with frequent attacks of coughing
and wheezing, much to her discomfort and the disturbance of her temper.
She had an odd fashion of expanding and contracting in size either
suddenly or gradually. This occurred oftenest during her attacks of
asthma, and to those who first saw this, the sight was a startling one.

"So my brave little Captain," said the Elf, "you've been whistling for
the Breeze at last, have you? Ah! I thought you would come to it some
day. But you always were such an independent little body--hoogh! And
you have come to the little fat lady at last, hey? Well, I'm heartily
glad to see you--hoogh!--and you'd have been welcome long ago--wheeze!
Sit down and tell me your errand." She bustled about all the while and
kept everything and everybody around her in a whirl of excitement.

"There, now, I've composed myself to listen--wheeze! But I suspect that
I know without being told--hoogh! However, say on, while I sit here and
rock myself." The merry lady twisted together a couple of boughs into
the shape of a rude swing, and seating herself among the leaves, swayed
back and forth, wheezing, coughing, oh-ing and ah-ing, while Bruce told
the story of his troubles.

"And now," he concluded, "I appeal to you for help." He took the whistle
from his neck and laid it in the Elf's hand. "This talisman has always
opened a way for Brownies to the heart and help of you and yours."

"Tut, tut!" said Madam, throwing the chain around the Captain's neck
again, "Put up your whistle--hoogh! No need to remind Madam Breeze by
that of the claim of the fairies upon her and hers. And so these horrid
Pixies have worried the life out of you? And you tarried all this time
before coming to me?--Wheeze, wheeze! Confound this cough! And you
didn't go to my gentle Lady Zephyr this time, hey? Her balmy breath
wouldn't quite suit your present purpose? Ho, ho, ho! Good stout Madam
Breeze for you, hey?--Hoogh! Aha, I see that Brownies, like other folk,
when they get into trouble prefer the useful to the ornamental. Well,
well, you're right enough."

Whereupon the jolly, kind hearted Elf swung and rolled herself about and
made the leaves of the Lone Aspen fairly dance with the voice of her
laughter.

[Illustration: FIG. 26.--Captain Bruce Appeals to Madame Breeze.]

"Now to business!" Madam Breeze sobered down just one moment as she
spoke. "How did you come here? On the ponies, hey? Call Blythe."

Bruce blew his bugle. Presently Blythe clambered up the ladder and
saluted the Elf.

"How are the ponies, Blythe? Pretty well done out, hey? Not fit for the
journey back? In a pinch are you? So I thought. Well, you Brownies do
miss it sometimes, you must confess." Madam ran on asking and answering
her own questions without giving Blythe a chance to speak a word.
However, she seemed, through, some mysterious news agency of her own, to
know everything without information from the Brownies.

"Need fresh horses? Just as I supposed. Here,
here--Whirlit,--wheeze,--hoogh! (Confound that cough!) Blythe, call
Whirlit for me. The rascal!--he's always out of the way when I want
him."

Notwithstanding the bad character given him by his mistress, Whirlit was
at the window in a moment.

"There, keep still now, and listen!" Madam herself was quite as restless
as the frisky Whirlit while she gave her orders, bouncing back and forth
all the time among the leaves. "Still, I say! Put Swallowtail and
Blythe's pony in the stable, and get out my Goldtailed matches. Order
all hands to be ready to leave immediately. Quick! Off with you!"

Whirlit sprang from the window, turning a score of somersaults or more
on his way to the ground. He returned presently, leading a pair of
Goldtailed moths. They were beautiful insects with soft downy plumage,
snowy white color, and a tuft of yellow hair at the end of the tail.

"Aren't they beauties," cried Madam, casting an admiring glance at her
splendid matches. "And fast, too. And thoroughly trained. And what's
the strangest thing about them, they're not worth an old straw in the
day time. They hang around on the bark here as spiritless as a
toadstool. But the moment evening comes they spruce up, and hie--away!
they're brisk enough then. Queer, isn't it? But I keep 'em just for
night work. Now we're all ready for a bout with the Pixies. Pooh! the
nasty beasts! I hate to soil my breath with them and their clammy
snares. But Brownies can't be left to suffer. Ready, Captain? Yes? very
well, then, mount and away!"

The afternoon was nearly gone. Below Hilltop the woods, orchard, house,
lawn and garden all lay in shadow. The Goldtailed matches were in fine
spirits. Their energetic mistress kept close behind them buoying them
up, and urging them on, and in a short time they reached the spring at
the foot of the orchard back of the mansion.

"Halt!" cried Madam Breeze. "I shall wait here in the tops of the trees,
while you move forward and get your Brownies ready. Be quick, now, and
when you want me, remember the whistle."

CHAPTER VI.

ATTACK ON THE OLD LODGE.

Bruce put spurs to Goldtail and flew across the garden followed closely
by Blythe. They reached the Lawn and crossed the Brownie camp. They
stopped at the Captain's headquarters under the Rose Bush. Everything
was in confusion. MacWhirlie was pacing back and forth in high
excitement; a group of Brownies surrounded him, talking and
gesticulating violently.

"Silence!" cried MacWhirlie, stopping suddenly, facing the excited
group. "I tell you that I will not stir a hand in this thing until
Captain Bruce returns, or until it is settled that he will not return
this night. I love Rodney as fondly as you; he is my dearest friend, the
Captain's own brother, my comrade in a thousand fights and forays. But
it would bring on a battle were I to consent to follow my own heart and
your wishes. That would ruin us all. I cannot; dare not, will not! I
must obey my orders. Silence, I say!"

Bruce leaped from Goldtail's back and walked hastily into the midst of
the group. The Brownies did not notice him until he stood by
MacWhirlie's side.

A clamor of surprise, satisfaction, and grief greeted him. The
Lieutenant's face brightened; then clouded again, as with sympathy and
pain.

"Speak, MacWhirlie," said the Captain. "What has happened? What is wrong
with Rodney? Quick, and tell the worst at once."

"He is shut up by the Pixies along with his boy Johnny."

[Illustration: FIG. 27.--The Old Lodge Overspun by Pixies.]

"What, Rodney captured! I never would have thought it. How did it come
about?"

"It was not exactly his own fault, Sir. He had been busy about the boats
all day--you know we were to have everything in order,--and I had asked
him to look after his sailors. He took Johnny with him--not an hour ago,
Sir,--to have a last look at matters. He did not want to take the little
fellow, but the lad was bent on going; and besides he is a brisk young
Brownie, and quite able to look after himself. Rodney was busy at the
rivulet about some naval affairs and left the boy for a few moments on
shore. Just then one of the butterfly ponies flew by and strolled off
toward the Pixie picket line. Johnny saw its danger and ran to bring it
back. He had gone but a little way when he was seized by one of the
Pixie scouts, who are always hovering around now, and clapped into one
of our old lodges which they have covered with spinningwork and are
using as a guard house."[S]

"But Rodney? How came he into their hands?" the Captain cried.

"I am coming to that. The Commodore heard Johnny's cries, sprang on
shore, and rushed upon the old wretch who had captured the lad, and who
was spinning a rope across the door. He cut him down with one blow of
his cutlass and ran into the lodge to get Johnny."

"Ha! that was well done!" exclaimed Bruce.

"Yes, Sir, but he wasn't quick enough. A squad of pickets heard the
fuss, and before Rodney could repass the door they had blocked it up
with their snares, double lashed and sealed it, and,--there they are!"

"How did you find out all this?"

"Why, of course, some of the sailors also heard the boy's cries and
followed the Commodore; but only in time to see how things had gone.
They ran back to the camp, and here they are, clamoring, threatening,
pleading to get me to order all hands to the rescue of Rodney and his
boy."

"Have you done anything?"

"I have set guards to watch the lodge and report continually how things
go. For the rest I have tried to keep the camp in perfect quiet."

"How goes it with the prisoners; are they well?"

"Yes," answered Pipe the Boatswain, "the Commodore has his boy in the
very furthest end of the lodge, and he stays there walking back and
forth before the lad, cutlass in hand. They haven't dared to molest him
yet. He sounded his bugle once or twice, and I know he wonders why his
friends, especially his old tars, have deserted him. It's well nigh
broke our hearts, Cap'n."

"It was hard to resist the pressure, Captain," said MacWhirlie, "and
harder still to control my own heart. But I did what I thought my duty.
I stand ready to suffer for it if I erred. And now that you are back all
I ask is to lead the rescue. I will save Rodney and his boy, or leave my
carcass with the Pixies."

"My dear fellow," said Bruce, "you did quite right. God bless you for
your love of me and mine but especially bless you for your firmness on
this occasion. It would have been a sad day for us all if the life of
our nation had been risked for the sake of one however dear to me and to
us all. Now, get ready for action! Is all in order for the assault?"

"Everything."

"Then rally the men. We will advance with all our force. We must first
save Rodney and his boy. Then we shall clean out the whole Pixie nest.
The battle word is 'Rescue.' Madam Breeze waits yonder in the orchard
to join us."

How the order flew through the Brownie camp! Love for Rodney, and the
news of the near presence of their powerful ally put hope and courage
into all hearts. Every man was in his place. Even the older boys had
taken arms, hoping for permission to join in the battle or at least the
chase.

[Illustration: FIG. 28.--A Tubeweaver's Den.]

The Captain led his men swiftly and cautiously by a roundabout route to
the site of the old lodge, which was at the extreme eastern flank of the
Pixie camp. He skirted the Lawn, passed the spring, and struck the bank
of the rivulet at the foot of the orchard. There he waited until the
full moon had risen above the hills, and slanted her rays along the
river and into the bosom of little Lake Katrine.

"Hark!" said the Captain at last.

"Hark," the word passed in a whisper along the line.

Up in the tree tops Madam Breeze and her train were waiting for the
signal. Not waiting patiently, indeed, for they rocked and rolled among
the round topped apple trees, and swung to and fro among the tall pears,
rustling the leaves, shaking down the fruit, and whistling among the
branches. But there they were, all ready, eager to rush upon their
foes.

The Brownies had now reached a point well to the east of the Pixie camp
and fort. Just beyond them was the lodge, now changed into a
tubeweaver's den, in which the Commodore and his boy were confined.
Captain Bruce halted the column and distributed the men throughout the
tall grass. He formed a half circle looking toward the old lodge, the
pioneers or axmen being in the centre.

"Steady, now, a moment," he exclaimed in a low tone to MacWhirlie. He
fell upon hands and knees and glided through the grass. He was back in a
few moments.

"It is all right. Not more than a dozen Pixies are on guard, the rest
are beyond the demilune in the camp at supper, carousing, singing and
making merry over Rodney's capture. Poor fellow! He is seated in the far
end of the lodge holding Johnny on his lap. The boy has cried himself
asleep. The Commodore has one hand on his sword and rests his face upon
the other. Neither friend nor foe seems to be expecting us."

"Attention!" The order ran in low whispers around the line.

"Ready!"

"Ready." This word passed from officer to officer in the same way.

Then the Captain stepped to the head of the axmen, put his whistle to
his lips and blew a long blast. The shrill notes cut through the air.
Rodney heard it, lifted up his boy, leaped to his feet and cried:

"Come, Johnny, up! Wake! It is a rescue!"

The Pixie guards heard it. They grasped their weapons, and crowded
together before the door of the lodge. Spite the Spy and his horde heard
it as they feasted and made merry. They hastily seized their arms.

[Illustration: 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:

[Footnote S: Appendix, Note A.]

CHAPTER VII.

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.

[Illustration: 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 Pixies sounding 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