CHAPTER III

THE LITTLE DOOR IN THE TREE TRUNK

He had no idea how long he had slept or what awakened him; but when he finally opened his eyes, the sun was low in the western sky. His first thought was of the Blue Bird: what had happened to it? Had it flown away and left David there? Had he really lost the Bird after all this long adventure of following it faithfully? Perhaps it was waiting for him somewhere near; perhaps if he listened he should hear the song again. He waited. The sun sank lower and lower. But no bird’s song came to his listening ear. At last the sun almost touched the horizon.

“I must look for the Bird!” cried David. “Perhaps it is waiting for me to find it.” He jumped up and searched all about in the branches of the great tree, but no trace could he find of his little wingèd guide.

Suddenly he noticed what he had never seen before: the bark on one side of the tree was rolled back, baring the smooth wood underneath. However this had happened, it must have happened a long, long time ago, for the surface was weathered and stained the colour of the rough bark itself. In the middle of this smooth gray surface he noticed a curious little knob, not unlike the handle on a door. Looking more closely, he then discovered a tiny crack running around the smooth portion of the wood, about two inches from the edge of the bark. To his astonishment, he discovered that this _was_ a little door, just large enough for him to crawl through. He opened it, got down on his hands and knees, and crawled in. The door closed behind him with a sharp _click-clack_, and he found himself standing in a flood of light and at the edge of the same country upon which he had gazed a few moments before, when he had peered into the hole through which the Blue Bird had flown.

He looked about him and rubbed his eyes, for he could not believe that he was really there. The first thing that he noticed was that the sun, instead of being in the western sky as it had been on the other side of the tree, appeared in the east, so that it was now morning in this land, instead of evening. He gazed about him. Everything was marvellously bright and fresh and beautiful. Then he noticed how clearly he could see. All things were more distinct, more clearly outlined, than he had ever known them to be before. “Where am I?” he thought to himself.

Then a voice within him seemed to ask: “Why did you come through the door? Let us go back.”

“Go back!” cried David. “Well, I guess not! This is the most beautiful place I have ever seen: I’m going on.”

“No!” said the Voice. “Come back; I want to go back.”

“Why do you want to go back?” asked David.

“Because I’m afraid,” answered the Voice.

“Afraid! afraid of what?” said David.

“I do not know of what,” answered the Voice. “I’m just afraid--afraid of everything here. The light, for instance--I’m afraid of that. It is too bright, and it hurts.”

David knew that this Voice which he had heard was nothing but the voice of the coward within himself, although he talked aloud to it just as if it were a real person.

“Well,” said David, “walk behind me, then; I will shield you from the light as much as I can. But, for my part, that is the very thing that I most love. Only think how the Blue Bird will look in this light, when we see him again! It is worth staying here just for that alone.”

Some one must have heard the sound of his voice, for when he looked up he saw a young man approaching.

“How did you get in?” asked the stranger.

“Through the little door in the Tree,” answered David.

“How did you find the door?”

“I was seeking for the Blue Bird that I have followed a long, long way, and he flew into a hole in the tree, and I lost him. After I had awakened from a sleep--for I was very tired and so fell fast asleep--I tried to find the Bird again, and in my searching I found the little door.”

“Oh!” said the stranger, “you followed the Blue Bird here, did you? Then you are welcome; you may stay here as long as you wish.”

“That is very nice,” said David. “But do you mind telling me where I am?”

“No,” said the stranger, smiling. “You are on the edge of the Forest.”

“What Forest?” asked David.

“The Forest beyond the Woodlands,” answered the stranger.

“Oh!” said David. “Thank you. I have heard of that Forest before. There is a beautiful Garden in it, is there not? I think I should like to find the Garden: can you tell me how to get to it?”

“There is but one way,” said the stranger. “Follow your nose till you get there.”

David looked up at him in surprise, for he could not quite tell whether the stranger were making fun of him or not.

“I mean it!” said the young man earnestly. “The fragrance from the Garden is so wonderfully sweet that it fills all the air round about. If you take a deep breath now, you will notice what I mean.” He sniffed at the air as he spoke. David did the same; and as he did so he noticed a quality of sweetness that he had never imagined could be in any atmosphere save where hosts of flowers were shedding their gentle fragrance.

“I do see what you mean,” said David.

“Good!” cried the stranger. “I thought you would understand me. It truly is the only way to find the Garden: just to follow your nose till you get there. It sounds queer, doesn’t it? But there is lots of sense in that advice, and it is good to follow. I am sure you will get there. Good luck to you. I must go on my way now.”