The House Without Windows · Chapter 1 (3/5)

While they had been conversing in this manner, Eepersip had been sitting in the woods, with a little fawn and its mother for company; and she had been feeding the fawn handfuls of grass and gazing into its gentle eyes. Late in the evening it cleared off and there were promises of a beautiful day tomorrow. And so it was. The sun began to rise slowly, producing wonderful colours⁠—first the most delicate shades of apple-blossom pink; darker on the horizon, and shading off into a pale buttercup yellow. And Eepersip, as she awoke, saw that the meadow was dotted with dark forms which could just be distinguished⁠—the deer were all lying down.

Eepersip skipped up to the pool to get her morning drink, first spying all around and especially behind every tree. No one was to be seen, for no one was up yet. Eepersip drank her fill; then she breakfasted on the sweet root of the little three-leaved plant with a white blossom, her usual food. After that she went down to the meadow, beginning to dance and sing as soon as she got there. The deer were now beginning to rise, and as she danced she kissed each one.

When the sun had dried the raindrops and the dew, the families started out to the great field to see what they could discover. The first thing they saw when they got to the edge of the slope was Eepersip skipping around. Then they saw her dance off to the woods and gather some long green branches and blossoms. Very soon she came back to the field, went over to a sleeping doe, and crowned her with the branches; upon which the doe got up and licked Eepersip’s cheek. She danced about in her delight. She was so beautiful, so graceful, that when her parents saw her they were amazed at the way in which her dancing and leaping had improved.

Now, during the days in which Eepersip had been growing wild she had made friends with another chipmunk, who was even more fond of her than the one by the pool had been. The Eigleens and their friends now saw him scutter out of the woods and frolic around Eepersip. Last of all they saw Eepersip lie down on the grass to gaze at the sky.

“This would be a splendid opportunity for catching her,” muttered Mr. Ikkisfield to Mr. Eigleen, as they looked at her.

“Hm! that’s just what I was thinking,” whispered Mr. Eigleen in reply. “Suppose we go out in the field and try.”

They all tiptoed down the slope and out into the field, where they immediately laid hands on Eepersip once more. She started violently and cried out to the doe who was near. The doe dashed up, but did not succeed in rescuing Eepersip, for Mrs. Ikkisfield ran to hold her back.

“Never mind Eepersip⁠—Mr. Eigleen and Mr. Wraspane can do that. Hold back the deer!” thundered Mrs. Eigleen, a slow red rising to her face. They all flew at the poor creature, except the two who were holding the struggling Eepersip. Off fled the doe; and then the others could help with Eepersip. The doe ran on to get help from her mate. Back they came in no time, for a deer is one of the swiftest runners in the world. The buck flew at Eepersip’s captors⁠—just too late, for the others had succeeded in getting Eepersip safely into the tent.

But what could they do with her? How could they keep her securely? And, even so, if she was going to continue acting wildly, how much better off were they with her? This was a new question, which no one had thought of. But they decided that, if they could keep her safely, she would become tamed and civilized again. The question of security was the most important just then. Better go home immediately and take Eepersip with them, later returning for their tent and their belongings. This they did, locking Eepersip in the house while they were getting their things; and as they went they rejoiced.

But now all the deer of the field, knowing that Eepersip, their beloved queen, had been taken from them, put their heads together. They intended to rescue her while her father and mother were sleeping, if they could only find where she had been taken. While they were lying down and thinking about it, a fawn came running up and poked its mother. It had followed softly, and knew just where Eepersip was kept. They all lay down to wait for the coming of night. At last evening came, and the deer fell asleep, leaving a night-watchman to arouse them later when the full moon was at its zenith. When the watchman signalled they arose and, with the little fawn leading, went down toward the Wraspanes’ house. Eepersip was allowed to sleep out on the porch, but all its glass doors were closed and locked against her. The fawn led them straight to this place.

Eepersip could not go to sleep; she sat on the floor, whining softly in her misery. One of the bucks knocked gently on the glass door with his antler. Eepersip turned; a smile crept over her face at the sight of her beloved comrades. The buck, as softly as he could, broke one of the glass doors, wood and all. Then the deer, all except the fawn, bounded off to the field again.

The sound of breaking glass reached the ears of Mr. Ikkisfield, who was awake, all too late; for by the time he had wakened the others⁠—which he did by shouting “Get up! get up! Sounds like high doings out there!”⁠—Eepersip, on the little fawn’s back, had vanished toward the field. The families, when they got to the porch, found only the broken door. Though they heard trampling hoofs, they knew that it would be of no use to follow.

The families, after that adventure, were desperate; and they decided not to make any more plans just then, for winter was coming on rapidly, but to stay at the house until the next summer.

As for Eepersip, well, she was mighty glad to have got away unhurt. Happy again, she was soon sound asleep in the woods on the edge of the field, cuddled up underneath the doe which had saved her before. She wasn’t sure how to get along through the winter safely, but she had had such a splendid summer that she knew it would be foolish to give up her wild life now. She could manage somehow.

And so she did. She found that her parents had left her own heavy winter coat in the place where they had once found her sleeping; and this would be very helpful to her, she thought. She was also glad to realize that her parents, much though they wanted to get her back, didn’t wish her to perish in the cold of winter. “They are nice people, after all!” she thought to herself.

With the coat and the prospect of warmth, there came a delightful idea into her head. On the edge of the meadow there was an old dilapidated foxhole. It was very large already; and after about ten days of hard work Eepersip found that the passages could be made exactly large enough for her to crawl into. The earth was so loose and mouldy that it came away without difficulty. She crept down the tunnel a long way, digging as she went. Presently she came to a snug bedroom about five feet square and four and a half high, which was a little less than her own height. But she did not mind stooping, as long as she had this cunning room; besides, she could dig away the ceiling if she wanted to. The room was old and dirty, but Eepersip lined it entirely with grass. Digging around, in one corner she came upon a little packet made of leaves. Inside it were a few cordary-berry seeds.1 She wondered who had made this packet⁠—who had lived in this burrow before her. A person, of that she was sure. These seeds had not by any means rotted; they were still as moist and sweet as ever, and Eepersip rejoiced to them. Digging around some more, she discovered a small square block of wood. Lifting it up, she found great heaps of milkweed pods, kept from springing open by the pressure of the earth against them. She rejoiced in this too. There was enough of the milkweed to make a bed for herself. She covered the bed with her old dress, which she had kept all this time in case she should need it. Never was such a soft bed seen. In the burrow she also built several shelves of boards, and on these she heaped up more cordary berries and their seeds, which were just beginning to come.

The next day was the last of November. In the morning Eepersip, after a long sleep in the burrow, woke up to find the world white with the first snow. The entrance of the tunnel was placed at such an angle that never a flake found its way down in. Eepersip was delighted; she danced and skipped about, with the chipmunk at her heels.

The next day it stopped snowing, and the sun came out, shining dimly. Every snow-crystal sparkled like a diamond. Eepersip and the chipmunk dashed across the meadow and looked far, far down. Though ordinary eyes could not have seen to the end of this mass of glittering whiteness, Eepersip’s could, and beyond all the icicles and snowflakes she saw the river calmly shining, blue as the sky. In its rippling surface Eepersip could see the very reflection of the sun breaking out through a cloud. The meadow was beautiful even when the sun was dim, but nothing to what it was now!

Eepersip could see every colour of the rainbow reflected in each crystal⁠—orange, purple, green, blue, red, and many, many iridescent tints. Full of joy, she looked down upon the river once more, through the glittering iridescence. The longer she looked, the better she could see the river. But at last the sun went in again; it had been out hardly long enough to melt one snowflake. Everywhere round Eepersip went the chipmunk’s little footprints, for he had shared her delight. At last, when Eepersip wanted to go back to her subterranean shelter, the chipmunk hung back and whimpered. Eepersip saw that he wanted to stay; and knowing that he could find his way, she left him behind and went back to the burrow herself.

But he didn’t come back. She waited and waited and often called, but he did not appear. “What can have happened to my little friend?” she thought. At last she set out to look for him, calling as she went. She looked in every crevice, to see whether something had frightened him and he had plunged into some hiding-place. But she did not find him. At last, whistling and calling, she came near to where she had left him, on the edge of the meadow. Then what did she see in the snow but footprints⁠—human footprints! Chippy’s little tracks had started back in the direction of the burrow, but the strange footprints came towards his and overtook them⁠—and at that point his suddenly left off. Then she discovered the others going down the hill again. It was only too clear⁠—Chippy had been captured!

Eepersip sat down in the snow and wept. But suddenly she straightened up and became herself again. Why not follow those footprints down the hill and get her Chippy back? With a hopeful heart she dashed down, following the tracks. But she came into a small village, where she was afraid of being caught. She could not go on; so she went back.

Another idea! Why not follow the footprints some night, when there were not so many people around, and when, even if there were, she would not be seen so easily? But there was the question of being able to see the footprints in the dark. No, that would be impossible: the only thing to do would be to wait. For what, Eepersip had not the slightest idea.

The name of the people who had captured the chipmunk was Brunio. Mr. Brunio and his little twin daughters, Flitterveen and Caireen, had come up to the meadow with sleds and skis to slide. They had seen the chipmunk frolicking about, and had watched him impatiently.

“How I would like that little animal for my own!” said Flitterveen.

“He looks cold and hungry, Father,” said Caireen. “Here, I have some crackers in my pocket. Let us throw them to him and see if he will eat them.”

This they had done, and the chipmunk had been tempted. He had come up cautiously and nibbled at them. He loved Eepersip dearly. He had never received harm from one of those queer two-legged creatures. He trusted them. But, while he had been nibbling, Mr. Brunio had sneaked up quietly and taken him. Thus he had been captured.

Eepersip was not able to free her little friend until the next spring. She had lived a rather lonely life without him through the winter, and one morning very early she decided to make a desperate attempt to rescue him. She went down the slope of the hill to the river, through grass wet with pearly dewdrops. She stole along the bank of the river behind bushes as much as possible, so as not to be seen. Finally she came to a little wooden bridge, and across this she went. But from there she had no idea how to proceed. She looked all about her, bewildered, afraid among so many houses.

It was a heavenly morning. The sun rose and cast a sweet golden light over the earth. The grass sparkled as if with diamonds. A fresh spring breeze was blowing gently. Flowers grew here in the deep grass, and myriads of butterflies came flocking. But Eepersip stood forlorn and discouraged.

Suddenly a faint squeaking came to her. She darted toward the sound. O Eepersip, beware⁠—not too fast! The squeaking came from one side of a dark brown house. Eepersip saw a small wire cage, and in it her little brown Chippy. Mr. Brunio had opened the squeaky door of the house and was coming out with Chippy’s food. Eepersip saw him, and swerved aside into the shelter of a gigantic rosebush before he saw her⁠—just in the nick of time. It seemed like a long wait, but after a while Mr. Brunio went into the house again.

Looking cautiously about her, Eepersip tiptoed out, opened the door of the cage, seized Chippy, and sped off. Thus he was rescued; and Eepersip was happy indeed! As for the Brunios, they were very much distressed when they found out that the chipmunk was gone. By spying, they discovered some of Eepersip’s strange habits. Then, early one morning, they took their little kitten⁠—the twins had rather stupidly named her “White,” for her colour⁠—up to the field where Eepersip had her home, let her go very near Eepersip’s burrow, and then ran away quickly before the kitten could find them. Well, White didn’t care much about being left in the dewy grass, bewilderedly shaking first one paw, then another. But presently Eepersip came out of her burrow with Chippy. Seeing the patch of white, Eepersip thought the kitten was an exceptionally late bit of snow left on the grass. But no, it certainly had not been there the last time she had looked. And then she realized that it was altogether too late for any snow. Darting up to it, she found the little kitten, so snow-white, with the blue-grey eyes like little moonstones, gazing pitifully up at her. Because she thought the kitten had been a patch of snow, Eepersip named her Snowflake.

She took her, shivering with the wetness of the dew, into her burrow, and found, much to her surprise, that Chippy recognized her and sprang at her in great delight. The truth of the matter was that Chippy had often seen the kitten during his captivity, and had played many a happy game with her in his cage.

Caireen and Flitterveen had thought when they let the kitten go that Eepersip, seeing a new animal, would give them back Chippy. Not so! Eepersip would rather have two animals than one. Besides, she saw how dearly the two loved each other, and would not have parted them for anything now. The Brunios had been disappointed enough at losing Chippy⁠—and now they had lost the kitten too!