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THE DANCE OF THE FOREST PEOPLE
From The Arkansaw Bear
Albert Bigelow Paine
Oh, there was a little boy and his name was Bo,
Went out into the woods when the moon was low,
And he met an Old Bear who was himgry for a snack.
And the folks are still awaiting for Bosephus to come back.
For the boy became the teacher of this kind and gentle creature.
Who was faithful in his friendship and was watchful in his care.
And they traveled on forever and they’ll never, never, sever,
Bosephus and the fiddle and the Old — Black — Bear.
HE camp fire had died down to a few red embers, and
the big moon hanging on the tree-tops made all the
world white and black, with one bright splash in the
brook below.
The Uttle boy, Bosephus, and Horatio, the old black Bear,
had finished their supper.
While the Bear played on his fiddle the little boy had been
watching a slim, moving shadow that seemed to have drifted
out from among the heavier shadows into the half-lit open space
in front of them. As the music ceased, it drifted back again.
“Play some more, Ratio,” he whispered.
Again the Bear played and again the slim shadow appeared
in the moonlight and presently another and another. Some of
them were slender and graceful; some of them heavier and slower
of movement. As the music continued they swung into a half
circle and drew closer. Now and then the boy caught a glimpse
of two shining sparks that kept time and movement with each.
He could hardly breathe in his excitement.
“Look here. Ratio,*’ he whispered. Horatio did not stir.
“Sh-h!” he said, softly. “My friends— the forest people.”
The Bear slackened the music a little as he spoke and the
shadows wavered and drew away. Then he livened the strain
and they trooped forward again eagerly. Just then the moon
swung clear of the thick trees and the dancers were in its full
flood. The boy watched them with trembling eagerness.
A tall, cat-like creature, erect and graceful, swayed like a
phantom in and out among the others and seemed to lead. As
it came directly in front of the musicians it turned full front
toward them. It was an immense gray panther.
At any other time Bo would have screamed. Now he was
only fascinated. Its step was perfect and its long tail waved
behind it, like a silver plume, which the others followed. Two
red foxes kept pace with it. Two gray ones, a little to one side,
imitated their movements. In the background a family of three
bears danced so awkwardly that Bo was inclined to laugh.
“We will teach them to do better than that,” he whispered.
Horatio nodded without pausing. The dancers separated,
each group to itself, the gray panther in the foreground. Spell-
bound, the boy watched the beautiful, swaying creature. He
had been taught to fear the “painter,” as it was called in Ark-
ansaw, but he had no fear now. He almost felt that he must
step out into that enchanted circle and join in the weird dance.
New arrivals stole constantly out of the darkness to mingle
in the merrymaking. A little way apart a group of rabbits
skipped wildly together, while near them a party of capering
wolves had forgotten their taste for blood. Two plump ‘coons
and a heavy-bodied ‘possum, after trying in vain to keep up
with the others, were content to sit side by side and look on.
Other friends, some of whom the boy did not know, slipped out
into the magic circle, and, after watching the others for a moment,
leaped madly into the revel. The instinct of the old days had
claimed them when the wild beasts of the forest and the wood
nymphs trod measures to the pipes of Pan. The boy leaned
close to the player.
“The rest of it,” he whispered. “Play the rest of it!”
“I am afraid. They have never heard it before.”
“Play it! Play it!” commanded Bo, excitedly.
There was a short, sharp pause at the end of the next bar,
then a sudden wild dash into the second half of the tune. The
prancing animals stopped as if by magic. For an instant they
stood motionless, staring with eyes like coals. Then came a
great rush forward, the gray panther at the head. The boy saw
them coming, but could not move.
“Sing!” shouted Horatio; “Sing!”
For a second the words refused to come. Then they flooded
forth in the moonlight. Bo could sing, and he had never sung
as he did now.
“Oh, our singing, yes our singing, all our friends to us ’tis
bringing.
For it sets the woods to ringing, and the forest people know
That we do not mean to harm them in their dancing, nor alarm
them —
We are seeking but to charm them with the sounds of long ago.
At the first notes of the boy’s clear voice the animals hesitated;
then they crept up slowly and gathered about to listen. They
did not dance to this new strain. Perhaps they wanted to learn
it first. Bo sang on and on. The listening audience never
moved. Then Horatio played very softly, and the singer lowered
his voice until it became like a far off echo. When Bo sang like
this he often closed his eyes. He did so now.
The music sank lower and lower, until it died away in a
whisper. The boy ceased singing and opening his eyes gazed
about him. Here and there he imagined he heard a slight mstle
in the leaves, but the gray panther was gone. The frisking
rabbits and the capering wolves had vanished. The red and
gray foxes, the awkward bears and the rest
of that frolicking
back into the shadows,
peer into the dim
with his tried and
throng had melted
So far as he could
forest he was alone
faithful friend.
