Читать книгу The Gnomemobile - Upton Sinclair - Страница 6

In Which Elizabeth Meets Bobo

A little girl was walking in a California forest. It was a forest containing some of the biggest trees in the world, and the little girl had never seen anything like it. She was wandering on, in a sort of daze, hardly able to believe her eyes.

They had been talking in the car about the “big trees,” the “giant redwoods”; but the words had not meant much to the child. They had been rolling along the highway, twisting and turning on mountain grades, in bright sunlight of a spring day; and suddenly the sunlight was gone, there was twilight, and a solemn hush, and a forest made of the largest of living things.

They had stopped, and got out of the car; and now, by an unusual chance, the little girl was alone with the trees. It would have been no fun with Mama, who would have said: “You will get your shoes dirty,” or “There may be rattlesnakes.”

By the roadside was a tree with a great hole cut in it, and a tavern inside, in which you could sit at a table and drink a glass of beer, or of soda water—“Believe it or not,” said the sign. There were picture postcards of this, and Mama’s traveling companion, Miss Jellife, wanted some to send to friends in the East. Mama was helping her to choose them; the chauffeur was getting some gas; and so Elizabeth was left to gaze at the trees and to walk among them.

Beyond each giant was another, seeming even more marvelous, so that one was drawn on by a magic spell. There were some so big that fifty little girls might have clasped hands and made a ring about their base. The bark was gray-brown and deeply fluted, it looked so soft that you would think to squeeze it with your hands, but it was iron-hard. Under foot was a carpet several feet deep, soft and yielding, made of dust which had dropped from these trees for thousands of years. About the spreading bases of the trees were masses of frail greenery, with faint glimmers of sunlight playing over them; a feeble sunlight, coming from far away, a sun almost played out and dead. Over it all lay a hush as of twilight, of Sunday, the inside of a cathedral—every kind of solemn thing of which you could think.

Beauty and wonder absorbed Elizabeth completely; she went on, softly, reverently, lured by this new sight and that, forgetting the rest of the world. Every tree was different; the ones in the distance seemed bigger than those near at hand. She had been brought up in a city, and knew only shade trees, and woodlands planted by man. Now she had come suddenly into a new world that broke all the rules.

She was not so much surprised at what happened next. If in this forest there were the biggest of all living things, why should there not also be the smallest? Anything was possible where a hundred million years of history confronted you, and the forces of nature were freed from restraint. Elizabeth came upon a tree with a great fire-blackened hole straight through it, a hole so big that Mama’s limousine could have been driven through without being scratched. She started to peer inside, but it was so dark that it frightened her, and instead she tiptoed around the trunk. On the other side was a rock, over which the tree had grown; on the top of the rock was a fringe of lovely plants, azaleas, and oxalis, and ferns; and peering out over the top of these was a tiny face.

A face about the size of your fist, unless you have a very big fist. It might have been the face of a squirrel, of course, or of an owl, or of a bear cub. But as it happened, it wasn’t any of these: it was a face in all ways human, except that it was so small. It had bright, round, rosy cheeks, tiny blue eyes, hair the color of cornsilk, and above it a tiny little peaked brown cap. It was a startled face; and Elizabeth stopped dead still, and the two of them stared at each other.

At last the little man spoke, in a tiny piping voice. “I’m not afraid of you,” he said; and Elizabeth said quickly: “No, you don’t have to be afraid of me.”

The little man studied her gravely, and at last remarked, “You look like a very nice person.” She answered: “Mama is satisfied most of the time.”

The little man studied her some more, and at last inquired: “You do not hurt things?”

“Not if I can help it,” said Elizabeth.

“But do you cut down trees?”

“Oh, no! Truly, I have never cut down a tree.”

“But you will do it when you grow bigger?”

“No, no, I assure you, such a thing would not be ladylike.”

The little man seemed pleased. “That is a pretty dress you have on,” he said next. “Where do you get such things?”

“This came from Marcel’s,” said Elizabeth. “It is a place on Fifth Avenue.” She added: “In New York.”

The little man shook his head. “I have lived all my life in this forest. I am very ignorant.”

“I am sure,” said Elizabeth politely, “you must know lots of things that would be interesting to me.”

“I would be glad to tell you,” said the little man. He added anxiously: “If I were sure that it is right for me to talk to you.”

“Why shouldn’t it be right?”

“You are the first big person I have ever spoken to. I have never been allowed to speak to one.”

“Who is it that forbids you?”

“Glogo.”

“And who is Glogo?”

“He is my grandfather.”

“And what is the matter that you cannot speak to big people?”

“He says they are all murderers.”

“Oh, surely not!”

“They murder the trees. They destroy the forests, and that is the end of life.”

Elizabeth pondered. “I suppose it does seem that way, when you come to think of it,” she said. “But please believe me, I have never hurt even the smallest tree. And as for the big ones—how could I, if I wanted to?”

“You will be bigger some day, will you not? You are not a grown-up person. How old are you?”

“I am twelve.”

“How strange to think that you should be so big, and only twelve years old!”

“They call me small for my years. How old are you?”

“I just had my hundredth birthday last week.”

“And yet you do not look at all old!”

“Glogo is more than a thousand years old.”

“Oh, how wonderful! He must be as old as these trees.”

“These trees were here before Glogo’s grandfather. No one knows how old they are.”

Elizabeth looked at the trees again. So they really were as old as they seemed! Her eyes followed the giant columns, turning red as they ascended—up, up, to the very top of the world. There were spreading branches, and a roof of green, so far away that one could not see what it was made of. There was flickering sunlight, red, green, golden, all magically still, enchanted. Her eyes came down the trunk again, to the great base, fire-scarred, torn by lightning, patiently repaired with new buttresses, outworks of bark a foot deep. Just beyond was a shattered stump, with new trees growing out of it; and beyond that a column which had fallen a thousand years ago, and lay proof against every form of decay, with only a light crown of ferns along the ridge.

“This is really a most interesting forest,” she said, “and I am glad to learn about it. Would you mind telling me what you are?”

“Grandfather says that we are gnomes.”

“I have read about gnomes, but I did not know they were real.”

“I am quite real,” said the gnome.

“I am sure you are very kind and well-bred people. Are there many of you?”

“So far as I know there are only two, Glogo and me.”

“Oh, dear me! What has become of the rest?”

“That I do not know. They have disappeared, one and then another; we do not know where they have gone. Glogo says it is because men have cut down the forests.”

“That is truly terrible. I never thought about it.”

“Glogo is very sad,” continued the gnome. “He is sad about many things, and does not tell me the reasons. I have been much worried about him. For a long time I have thought that I should ask some big person for advice. Could you help me?”

“You must understand,” explained Elizabeth, “that I am only a child and do not know very much. But I will tell you anything I can.”

“Have you ever heard of a person sitting by himself all the time, and looking mournful, and not wanting to eat?”

“Yes, I have,” said Elizabeth. “It was that way with my Aunt Genevieve. They had to get all kinds of doctors to advise her. What they call specialists.”

“And what did they say?”

“They called it neurasthenia.”

“I don’t think I could say a word like that,” said the gnome.

“It’s a way the doctors have,” said Elizabeth. “They make up such long words, it frightens you.”

“What did they do about your aunt?”

“They did all kinds of things: mud baths, and massage, and baking with electricity, and pills, but it didn’t do much good. In the end they told her that she must have a change of scene. Mama said it was because they were tired of her.”

“Did the change help her?”

“We don’t know. She’s in Europe now. She sends us postcards.”

“I wonder if it would help Glogo to have a change of scene. We have been in all the forests around here.”

“I should think that in a thousand years he would have come to know the forests, and everything in them. Maybe he needs a change of diet. What do you eat?”

“We live on fern seed.”

“And what do you drink?”

“We drink honeydew from the flowers.”

“My, how interesting! It sounds awfully nice; but doesn’t it take a lot of time to gather enough fern seed and honeydew?”

“We gnomes have plenty of time.”

“Maybe a change of diet would help Glogo. Maybe it would do him good to see the world.”

“How could it be done?” asked the gnome anxiously.

The amateur doctor stood in thought. “Let me tell you about my Uncle Rodney,” she said. “We are going to visit him and his father—that is, my grandfather—in a big city called Seattle. Maybe you don’t know what a city is; it is a place where a great many people live. Rodney is older than I am, but not so very old; he has been to college, and knows a great deal more than I do. Also he is kind and good; he has never cut down any trees, so perhaps Glogo would not mind meeting him.”

“I don’t know,” said the gnome. “It would be hard to arrange.”

“Rodney—I call him that, he says that ‘uncle’ makes him feel so old—is very good fun. I mean, he says such funny things, he would keep Glogo happy. Another thing, he has some money, and I haven’t.”

“What is money?”

“Well, it is hard to explain. It is what you get things with—I mean among us people. You would have to have money if you were going to take Glogo to see the world.”

The gnome pondered all these ideas. “Would Rodney come to see Glogo?” he inquired.

“I am sure he would. He has probably never met a gnome, and would be much interested.”

“I will tell you what I think. It will be better not to say anything to Glogo. He might be very angry; he might go away into the forest, and never be seen again. Let us get Rodney to come and talk it over with me, and we will then find some way for Glogo to meet Rodney by accident.”

“Oh, that will be fine!” exclaimed the girl.

“When do you think he will come?”

“We expect to get to the city tomorrow. I will talk to Rodney, and we will come, three days from today. If we do not, it will be because he is away, or sick, or something.”

“You will surely come?”

“Oh, yes, indeed. It is most interesting. It is really educational. Even Mama would admit it—that is, she would if she could believe it. I don’t think I shall tell Mama; she says I am imaginative, and would think that I have made you up, and scold me about you.”

Elizabeth stopped, as if she thought it was not quite proper for a little girl to know so much about her mother.

At that moment the peace of the forest was broken by the sound of an automobile horn some distance away. “That is the car,” said Elizabeth.

“One of those little houses that I see running by so fast? What is it that makes it go?”

“It is the engine,” said Elizabeth. “Rodney will explain it to you better than I can. He has one of his own, and will bring me in it. I must go now, or Mama will think that I am lost. She is calling.”

Voices were heard in the distance; and Elizabeth put her two hands to her mouth and gave a loud “Yoo-hoo—” a sound which caused the little man to put his fingers in his ears. “My, what a terrifying voice you have!”

“I will use it to call you,” replied the girl. “You have not told me what name I shall call.”

“My name is Bobo.”

“Bobo and Glogo. What pretty names! Mine is Elizabeth.”

“That is a long name,” said Bobo, and repeated it slowly. “I will learn to say it before you come back. You will surely come?”

“I’ll come,” called Elizabeth, already running toward the sounds. “Good-by, Bobo!”

The little round face disappeared behind the greenery, and Elizabeth hurried as fast as she could to where the two anxious ladies were waiting. “Oh,” cried Mama, “you have ruined your shoes!” And she added: “Don’t you know there are rattlesnakes in those woods?” Miss Jellife said: “You might have had a glass of soda inside a tree.”

“I am going to learn to drink honeydew inside a flower,” replied Elizabeth.

Mama sighed, as they were getting into the car: “This child is so imaginative!”