  It was not without a moment’s fear that Eva saw the arch of the cavern close behind her, shutting her into silence; and surrounding her with a darkness which could not only be seen, but which was almost to be felt. At least so it seemed in contrast with the bright valley which she had left; but before many minutes had passed, or the boat had gone very far, her eyes became accustomed to the change, the intense blackness which surrounded her softened into a pale, dim gray; and then Eva saw that she was in a low arched place, like a long tunnel cut in the solid rock. Every now and then a drop of water would fall splashing into the brook from the roof, or else a little wave would break, rippling against the wall; but those were the only sounds to be heard. Even the boat glided along noiselessly, with a smooth, uniform motion,—and the tiny waves, which occasionally ruffled the surface of the dark, still water, passed under her without Eva’s noticing them. Leaning over the side, Eva could just see in the water the dim outlines of the trout, which swam along noiselessly in their respective places. Then all at once it grew lighter, and in the two cups of the lilies in which the curved prow and stern of the boat ended, she saw that a pale, blue flame was burning, and she knew then that from these blue flames came all the dim gray light which illumined the cavern. And presently, without thinking, she dipped her hand into the brook, and right away the water all around it was full of bright sparkles, and yet these little sparkles did not burn her; and then one of the six speckled trout came and rubbed his head softly against Eva’s hand, and asked her what she wanted. Eva stroked the trout’s back, and said,— “Nothing.” “Well, when you do want anything,” the trout said to her, “just dip your hand into the water, and one of us will come to you. Then you must ask for what you want, and if we can get it for you we will; and when you are hungry we will bring you something to eat.” Eva thanked the trout, and said she would be sure to ask when she wanted anything. And then she took her hand out of the water, and the trout went back to his place, and Eva lay down quietly in the bottom of the boat, for she was tired of sitting up, and looked at the roof of the cavern. It was all rough and uneven, high above the water in some places and near it in others, with bright stones set here and there in it, which shone and sparkled like diamonds or little stars whenever the boat passed under them, or the light from the flames burning in the lily-cups, which Eva called her lamps, fell upon them. But there was no sign of life in the cavern, except that every now and then things like bats, frightened by the light, would fly out of holes in the wall away back into the darkness. The boat went on and on, though there seemed no current in the water over which it glided, till, as Eva thought, they must have travelled for days. Sometimes she would sleep, and the boat went on just the same; when she was hungry, she would dip her hand into the water, and the trout would bring her a basket filled with the fruit which grew in the Valley of Rest. But Eva began to be very tired of the long journey through the cavern; and she was wondering to herself how much farther they would have to go, when all of a sudden the little blue flames burning in the lily-cups flickered for a moment, and then, seemingly gathering themselves together, shot up to the roof of the cavern and disappeared, leaving everything again in total darkness; and Eva was just going to ask the trout what this meant, when she saw, far away in the distance before her, what looked to her like a tiny, yet beautiful blue star shining. This little star, which was yet far away, seemed so fair and lovely that Eva said, without intending to speak, “O little boat, if only you would sail faster, and go near the pretty star!” And, just as if the boat had heard and understood the words, it began to move faster,—or was it the star which grew larger and larger, and came to meet them? No! it surely was no star, for the blue spot became larger and still larger, and then the cavern grew lighter and lighter, till, when she was near enough, Eva saw that what she had taken for a star was the arched entrance into the rock, and the light it shed was the pure light of day pouring into the darkness of the cavern. But it did not look so very inviting when the boat came nearer. Beyond the arch the air was full of curling mists and vapors, like those which Eva had seen at the foot of the precipice, and through these mists and vapors she caught dim glimpses of the same old hateful faces she had seen so often before. Just before the boat reached the arch, one of the six trout, putting his head above the water, said to her: “Stop the boat.” “How can I?” Eva asked, in surprise. “Speak to her; she will obey you.” And, to Eva’s great astonishment, as soon as the words, spoken very doubtingly, “Little boat, wait,” passed her lips, the little vessel stopped, and lay without moving on the water. Then the same trout which had spoken to her previously put his head again out of the water and said: “Before we go on, among the mists and vapors which lie beyond the cavern, it is well to tell you to be prepared. You must be on your guard, for THEY who dwell on the margin of the Brook of Mists will do everything in their power to prevent your reaching the Enchanted River. You will have to be careful, not only for yourself but for us, and no matter what they whom we meet may ask you to do, you must refuse, however trifling it may seem. Beyond the cavern we have no power to warn you; you must judge for yourself.” More than this, the trout went on, they were not permitted to say to her. So Eva thanked them, and promised to remember what they had told her; and then she told the little boat to go on, and once more the little vessel glided forward with each trout in its own place. They proceeded slowly; the curling mists and vapors always before them,—and, as Eva noticed, always behind them, although they were never close to the boat,—just as if she carried a free space along with her, and that the mists were not allowed to come within a certain distance of her. So, for a time, they went quietly down the brook. And Eva, seeing that nothing happened, began to wonder why the trout had told her to be careful; and she was looking over the side of the boat at her own face reflected in the clear water, in which not a fish was to be seen, except those with her, when suddenly the boat began to rock to and fro, as she never had done before; and when Eva turned round to ascertain the cause of this rocking, there, perched on the side of the boat, was a great black jackdaw. But, oh! what a very queer-looking jackdaw he was, to be sure! Every here and there he had peacock feathers stuck in among his plumage, and it was easy to see that they were only put in for show. It was as much as Eva could do to keep from laughing when she looked at him. “Caw! caw!” cried the jackdaw, with his head to one side, just as if he thought himself the finest bird in the world. “I am hungry, little girl, for I have flown a long way to-day, and I want to know if you won’t give me something to eat.” “I would, with pleasure,” Eva said, “if I had any corn with me, for that is what jackdaws eat.” The jackdaw tossed his head at this. “Pooh! you are silly; can’t you see I’m a peacock? Just look at my fine feathers, and tell me what you suppose I want with corn? If you really are willing to give me something to eat, why, I’ll take one of those fine, fat fish swimming near the boat.” “That I cannot let you do,” Eva said. “I know who you are, now: you are the bird who stole the peacock’s feathers; I saw a picture of you in a little book I once read.” “Found out! Found out!” cawed the jackdaw; and, with that, off he flew; and he was in such a hurry to be gone that he dropped two of the long feathers which had been in his tail, and Eva picked them up and stuck them into the side of the boat. Then one of the trout, after the jackdaw was gone, put his head up out of the water and said: “It is a good thing for all of us that you said ‘no’ to the bird. For, if you had said he might take one of us, he would not have touched us, but would have pecked a hole in the boat, and she would have sunk to the bottom of the brook. We should have had to leave you, and then you never could have reached the Enchanted River.” “Where is the Enchanted River?” Eva asked the trout. He answered, “It runs through Shadow-Land.” “And where are we?” “We are on the Brook of Mists, which empties into the Enchanted River, You came out of Shadow-Land when you entered the Valley of Rest.” Then the boat went on quietly again. Only for a time, however, and presently Eva heard a voice, in a squeaky tone, calling to her: “Stop, little girl, and take me in.” “Stop, little girl, and take me in.” And there, apparently crawling along the surface of the water, was a queer little dwarf. He had a large head, with round, green eyes; a fat, round body; and he was dressed in a yellow coat with scarlet facings, and his legs were so long and thin that they bent under him as he walked. And when he came up to the boat and laid his hand upon it, Eva saw that it was not a hand, but only a sharp black claw. “Take me in!” he repeated. Eva peeped at the trout over the side of the boat before she answered him, but they were taking no notice of the dwarf, and were swimming along as quietly as ever. “Take me in!” he squeaked again. “No,” Eva said; “the boat is too small to hold us both.” “Then give me one of those peacock feathers to fan myself with.” “I must refuse you,” Eva went on; “but perhaps the jackdaw, who was here not long since, might supply you, as he did me.” “You are very unkind,” the dwarf said. “Come, now, I will give you such a pretty flower if you will only let me go a little way with you; a star-flower. Aster means—a star.” Eva shook her head. “I cannot.” “Why?” “Because I think I saw you in the forest.” And just as Eva said these words, a change came over the dwarf; he was the same, yet not the same, and she saw that he was nothing but a huge spider, and that instead of walking on the water, as she had supposed, he had come to the boat on a web stretched across the brook, on which he was now running away just as fast as he could. Then another of the trout put up his head, and said: “You did well to refuse him, for if he had gotten into the boat, or if you had given him the feather, he would have put a bandage over your eyes, so that you could not see, and then would have spun a web around you and the boat, and nobody knows how you ever would have got out of it.” “He could not do it in the forest,” Eva said; “how could he do it here?” “Because first you were only brought into Shadow-Land; this time you came into it. Such as he can only control those who allow him. He could only have power over you by your own act and deed.” And once more the boat went on. But after awhile she was hailed again,—and Eva bade her stop. This time Eva was surprised to see that the call came from a little old woman crouched upon a stone which rose above the water. A very ugly old woman she was, too; for she had a very wide mouth and a pair of prominent, staring black eyes, and she was wrapped in a green shawl, and talked in an odd little croaking voice. “Where are you going?” she asked Eva. Eva only smiled, for she could not tell the old woman what she did not know herself. “I know,” the old woman said, nodding her head, and without waiting for a reply, “you are looking for Aster and his coat.” “How do you know?” Eva began; but the old woman interrupted her: “Never you mind how I know it; it is enough for you that I do know it. And if you really want to find Aster, I can tell you where he is, and put you in the way of finding him.” “If you only would,” Eva said, eagerly. “You must first take me into the boat, and then give me one of your curls.” “No,” Eva said, remembering what the trout had told her; “that I cannot do.” Then the old woman grew angry, and she jumped off the stone, as if she wanted to get into the boat. But as she jumped, Eva spoke to the boat, and she moved on; and then the old woman fell into the water. And Eva saw that the old woman, changing her shape as soon as she touched the water, was nothing but the same great green frog she had seen before; and that her shawl was the piece torn from Aster’s coat which it was part of her business to find. The third trout popped his head up out of the water: “If you only could have known, and had given us the curl that the Green Frog asked you for, we would have made a net of it, in which we could have caught the frog, and then the hardest part of your task would have been over; for then you could have taken the piece of Aster’s coat away from her.” “If you only had told me,” Eva said. “But it seems that you can only speak when it is too late.” “Because when higher powers are present we must be silent. We are never allowed to speak till after they have spoken, and are gone.” “Then, how could you have caught the frog?” “Through the power you would have given us. But nothing can stop us or molest us now.” Then the boat went on, down the brook, and nothing more happened to stop her progress. On she went, till at last, all of a sudden, the mists and vapors before her vanished, and Eva saw, just in front of her, what seemed the open mouth of a huge serpent ready to devour them. But the boat went on until it came near the terrible jaws, and then Eva saw that they were only two great rocks, one on each side of the brook,—and the boat passed unhurt between them. And just beyond them the water stopped short; and then the boat came to a pause, and nothing that Eva could say or do would move her one inch. And then another of the trout put up his head, and told Eva she should bid the boat go to the shore; which she did; and the boat obeyed, and then stopped again, her bow resting on the shore. “We can do no more for you,” the trout then told her. “We must now go home, for there, where the brook stops, the Enchanted River runs. On it our boat cannot go, and in it we cannot live; so, though we would like to help you, we cannot.” Then Eva thanked them for what they had done, and taking one of her long bright curls, she tied part of it round each trout’s neck, where it shone like a collar of gold. And they told her that she should keep the rest of the curl, and if at any time she was in trouble from which she could not escape, and was near water, and thought that they could help her, she should throw the rest of the curl into the water, and they would come to her. Then, holding in her hand the two feathers the jackdaw had dropped, which the trout told her might be useful, Eva bade the trout farewell, and stepped on shore. And as her foot touched the ground, the boat moved off into the stream, and waited there. And presently Eva said, “Go home, little boat,” and the boat immediately, with the trout, began to go up the brook. She watched it till it was out of sight, and then the child stood alone on the banks of the Enchanted River. |
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