Mr. Eigleen stirred the leaves gently as she bent over. She lay down flat by the tree, cupped her hands, and began to drink. Very quietly Mr. Eigleen put his hands on her, one on either shoulder, knowing that her dress of ferns would tear. She started, and struggled so violently that his hands relaxed their grip on her shoulders, sliding down her arms, so that they were now hand in hand. That was all Eepersip needed. With a tremendous sweep she took her feet off the ground, dragging down on his arms with all her weight and strength. Mr. Eigleen couldn’t relax either of his hands, for she now held them fast. With another sweep she put her feet up on his shoulders and over his head; then, wrenching her own hands free, she slid down his back and slipped before he could seize her. When Mr. Eigleen went home everyone was surprised at this acrobatic adventure.
Mrs. Eigleen made a plan now. “Sometime at midnight,” she said, “we could take a covered lantern and go down on the meadow to try to find out where Eepersip sleeps. I know the meadow is very large, but common sense tells me that she would sleep near the woods; so tomorrow night let’s go and try to find her.”
“Er—er—I don’t know,” replied Mr. Eigleen. “I’m a little bit afraid of that meadow, such curious things are happening there all the time.”
“What has happened yet?” snapped Mrs. Eigleen. “You’re an old coward, you are. I’d go in a minute, to save Eepersip.”
“So’d I, so’d I,” said Mr. Eigleen, hurriedly. “I only think that there is some curious magic about that field.”
“I agree with you there,” said Mrs. Eigleen. “But, as I said before, when it comes to saving Eepersip I’d go into thicker magic than there is in the field.”
So they planned to get up a little after midnight and circle the field near the edge of the woods; and as there were six of them, Eepersip wouldn’t have much chance of escaping if they once got their hands on her. That evening they ate a light supper and went to bed early, and about one o’clock they got up and went out into the great field with a hooded lantern. They circled around it; and at last they found Eepersip hidden in the bushes on the farther edge. Very gently all six laid hands upon her at once.
“Ah, we’ve captured her!” they cried triumphantly. “Our labours have been rewarded!”
But Eepersip, finding herself caught, became angry, and cried in a loud, commanding voice: “Put me down! Drop me immediately!” She added quietly to herself: “Now it’s all over.”
Then she began to struggle very violently indeed. They had hold of her securely, and so her struggles were in vain. But just as they carried her past a sleeping doe which had no fawn, she uttered a shrill, wild cry; and this so startled the six that they almost dropped her. The doe woke up; and though she was afraid for herself, she was more afraid for Eepersip. She came galloping after them.
To see the doe galloping swiftly toward them naturally startled old Mrs. Ikkisfield, who supposed that all wild animals would flee at the sight of a human being. That was so generally—but not when Eepersip was in danger! Now, Mrs. Ikkisfield had hold of the most important part of Eepersip’s anatomy, though no one suspected it at the time—namely, her feet. Mrs. Ikkisfield dropped them, and for the fraction of an instant which Eepersip needed they were allowed to touch the ground. Eepersip wrenched herself free and leaped to the back of the trembling, excited creature, and they bounded away quick as a flash. The others, agitated, turned to chase the doe; but she, with Eepersip on her back, had vanished.
“Whew, that was a narrow escape!” Eepersip whispered in one of the doe’s long ears, as they lay down together.
The next day it rained hard. Eepersip’s parents and their friends spent much time making plans for a day when they could go out. Mrs. Ikkisfield now made a suggestion.
“It is,” she said, “very like the plan that we tried last night—namely, to find Eepersip while she is sleeping. But we must have more people, more people! If we can get some friends from the village at the foot of the mountain, they can drive the deer that we meet away from the people that are carrying Eepersip. In that way she cannot be saved by deer.”
“That is true,” said Mrs. Eigleen; “but, you know, often an angry herd of deer is a terrible thing to drive back.” “I know that,” said Mrs. Ikkisfield. “But we might be able to keep them cool—keep them from getting angry. However, let’s make some other plans now. That is not a very good one.”
“I was thinking,” said Mrs. Wraspane, “if we could only get Eepersip into a small fenced-in area where we could catch her. But I have it: let us find Eepersip in her sleep again, and carry her to the tent in a roundabout route through the woods, chopping the bushes as we go, where there aren’t so many deer, and where it will be harder for them to rescue her.”
“Great idea!” cried Mrs. Ikkisfield.
So that is what they all planned to do, the next sunny day.
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
