Near the top of the four small cedars under which he lay there seemed to be a nest-like thickness. There was a movement in the tops of the trees, and Donald’s amazed eyes saw a little brown hand steal forth holding a cedar tip. Then a small childish face appeared, surrounded by a mass of lovely golden hair. The face was one of sheer, exquisite blonde beauty, marked by a pair of wide, roguish blue eyes, as blue as pansies, a small pensive mouth that formed a cupid’s bow, and an impudent little nose dotted with freckles. As the slender hand loosed the branch, Donald’s astonished eyes looked up directly into the blue ones looking down on him so full of mischief. There was a startled gasp and the golden head disappeared amid a great swaying of branches.
Donald came slowly to his feet, rubbing his eyes. Was this a fantastic dream, or had he actually seen a child’s face? He looked at the branches on the ground, and again his eyes sought the tree-tops. He could now see that some sort of big nest was built within the tops of the four small cedars.
A slight rustling of the branches followed, but no answer.
Still no answer, but a low silvery laugh was proof that the occupant of the nest was not a wraith.
“If you are a fairy,” he persisted, “won’t you come down and give me a Terpsichorean exhibition in the fairy ring on the floor of your enchanted glade?”
“I am a dryad,” came the dulcet tone of a childish voice, “and a dryad’s life is bound up in her tree. I cannot leave my arboreal bower until the hour of midnight.
“We’ll see about that,” laughed Donald as he seized the slender cedars and rocked them violently.
A scream of simulated fear came from the tree-tops. “Stop!” the voice cried, “I’ll come down.”
A tiny moccasined foot felt its way to a limb, and a slight figure clad in men’s overalls and a brown cotton shirt, stood erect with downcast eyes.
“Jump,” invited Donald, as he stood with arms outstretched; “fairies don’t weigh much.”
The “dryad” shook her head bashfully, then with a quick, bird-like motion sprang straight out into the air, her golden hair streaming and flashing in the sunshine. She landed gracefully on her moccasined feet and went bounding across the valley, leaping the creek with the ease and grace of an antelope, and, without turning her head, disappeared in the dark forest aisles.