The Treasure Cave: sea tales of Tiptoes Lightly (20 page)

Tiptoes walked
along the shore and listened to the song of the sea. It was filled with many
voices singing together: wave voices, surf voices, voices of the deep waters
and the voices of the sea spray. The mountains that ran along the coast were
colored deep violet with seams of rusty orange. They sang a tone so deep it
must have been sounding forever. She came to Pudding Creek flowing into the sea
and it too had its own voice. It sang of her mother-mountains with their wooded
slopes and waterfalls and rapids that ran into the creek and flowed until it
reached the sea. Each of these voices was also light, and a stream of light,
and they all wove together most beautifully.

Tiptoes opened
her wings and flew out to sea. The waters were shimmering and transparent and
moved with harmony. Above the waves she saw a sea-angel with stars in her hair.
It was Pacifica keeping watch over the waves. And far, far below, in the very
depths of the sea, she heard the Sea King calling, calling, ‘Where is my
daughter, my lovely daughter?” over and over and over again.

Tiptoes came
back to shore and found the sea shell exactly where she had left it. From this
side it was a spiral of winding light. She took a deep breath, scrunched
herself small, and squeezed through the door.

“Hey! What are
you doing in my house?” cried a feisty little voice.

Tiptoes was
surprised. A sand flea stood glaring at her. He looked annoyed.

“Sorry,” said
Tiptoes. “There was no one here when I came through.”

“Well, there
is now,” said the sand flea, hopping up and down. “It’s finders-keepers you
know. That’s the rule: first come, first served! What kind of flea are you
anyway? Fleas shouldn’t wear dresses! That’s silly. How can you hop properly?”

“I really am
sorry,” said Tiptoes slipping past the flea and running down the tunnel. “I
didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Hey!” shouted
the flea hopping after her. “No running in the corridor! That’s the rule! Come
back!”

Tiptoes fled.
She ran as fast as she could and flew out of the seashell and down the beach.

“And don’t
come again!” shouted the sand flea, leaping into the air and shaking one of his
many legs at her—but Tiptoes didn’t hear, she was already high in the sky and
laughing too loudly.

Skunk
Train

After
breakfast Aunt Sally and Farmer John made up a picnic and put it in two
baskets. They were going to go on the Skunk Train.

“Where’s
Tiptoes?” asked June Berry and Veronica, searching from room to room.

“I don’t
know,” said Farmer John. “Perhaps she’s outside.”

The girls
looked in the garden but she wasn’t there, so they had to give up.

Everyone piled
into the cars and drove to the train station in Summer’s Fort. Long ago, before
there were cars, the Skunk Train was used by people for traveling inland, and
by loggers to haul wood from the forest. Now it was used for day trips into the
mountains.

Farmer John
bought tickets while everyone else looked at the steam engine. This one was
old. It burned wood to fire a boiler, and the engineer was throwing log after
log into the firebox. The engine had huge metal wheels, a big round boiler with
a dome on top, and a chimney at the front. Pipes and rods were running
everywhere and smoke was pouring from the chimney. Tom was fascinated. He
stared and stared.

The engineer
looked down from his cab and wiped his brow. He was sweating from loading the
firewood. “You want to ride with me?” he asked Tom. “I’m allowed to take one
person and it seems you might be interested.”

Tom looked at
Uncle Finn, who grinned and nodded. So Tom climbed up the ladder to the cab.

“All aboard!”
called the engineer. “All aboard!” and he pulled the whistle: toot-tooooot!

The passengers
climbed on board and got settled. A minute later the train started with a jerk
and a clanging of metal. Chuff—chuff—chuff went the engine as it left the
station. Toot—toot—tooooooot went the whistle as they crossed Main Street. Tom was the one pulling the whistle. He couldn’t believe his luck to be
traveling with the driver. Slowly they skirted the edge of town, sounding the
whistle at all the road crossings to warn the cars. They followed Pudding Creek
until the line plunged into a tunnel and crossed over to the Noyo River. This they followed until the mountains grew higher on either side as they traveled
up the valley. The train twisted and turned and crossed back and forth over the
Noyo River and the creeks that fed into it. Now and then they passed old
cottages and cleared patches of land from the olden days. Suddenly they came to
a mountain spur and dived into a long tunnel. It got very dark, and Tom had to
cover his ears it was so noisy. Minutes later they were back in the forest,
chugging along. Now and then the engineer opened the firebox and he and Tom
threw in more logs to keep the fire going.

In the
passenger car June Berry and Veronica were gazing out the window. They saw a
few deer and a herd of elk with huge antlers grazing in a meadow. Johnny Top
spied an eagle flying overhead and Farmer John spotted a coyote in the brush.
He stood and watched them pass by.

At last, at
lunch time, the train slowed down and entered a clearing in the forest. All
around, redwood trees towered over their heads. Some of them looked really old.
The passengers climbed down and wandered around. Aunt Sally and Uncle Finn had
the picnic baskets on their arms. They chose a wooden table under the trees,
spread out the meal, and everyone sat down to eat.

Far, far back
at the cottage Tiptoes returned from the beach. All she found was Lucy waiting
patiently in the dog house in the garden.

“What!” she
exclaimed. “Has so much time passed already? I thought I’d be early.”

Tiptoes knew
that everyone was going on the Skunk Train.

“I’d better
hurry,” she said, and took off down the road. She got to the train station, but
the train was gone. She flew down the tracks, cutting corners whenever she
could. She sped up the valley—hardly paying any attention to the creatures that
live in the forest: the Spirit of Noyo River swimming under the rushing waters,
the Old Man of the Mountains deep inside the rocks, the fire spirit watchfully
hovering over a herd of elk grazing in a meadow, and a coyote trotting
alongside the tracks who looked at her with puzzled eyes as she zipped past.

Finally she
saw the train. It had stopped in a clearing. All about were tall redwood trees.
They were magnificent. Under one of them the two families sat at a picnic
table. They were about to eat. She dashed to the table and landed on the
butter.

“Here I am!”
she cried, and Johnny Top and all the children burst out laughing, but the
grown-ups didn’t understand why.

The
Spirit of the Redwood Grove

Tiptoes
wandered through the redwood grove. The trees were so big, so huge! The loggers
had left these last kings of the forest standing. They wanted to remind people
of how the forest had been, once upon a time not long ago. The redwoods were
wide at the bottom and narrow and slim at the top. They soared to the sky. Many
of the trees were hundreds of years old, a few were over a thousand years old,
and one, the biggest, was over two thousand years old. It was only a baby when
the Sun Child had been born far, far away.

Tiptoes
touched the trees. Their bark was soft and stringy. It had a warm, rusty-red
color. High, high above the ground branches grew from the trunks and fanned out
their dark, evergreen needles. She found the largest and oldest tree, opened
her wings, and circled round and round the trunk as she flew upwards to find a
branch to sit on. Then she sat far above the forest floor in the warm sunlight
that played amongst the treetops. She looked down and watched the people
wandering below. Further away she saw Tom and the girls running about and
playing tag.

A gentle voice
said, “Hello, Little One.”

Tiptoes looked
around, but nobody was there.

The voice
chuckled. It was kindly and deep.

Tiptoes looked
around again, and still no one was there.

“You’re
sitting on one of me,” said the voice.

Tiptoes leaped
up—but there was nothing underneath her.

“Who’s that?”
she said.

The voice
chuckled again. Whoever it was, was having fun.

“You don’t
have to jump up, Little One. The birds sit on us the whole time. I don’t mind
at all. I like the birds—even the woodpecker who pecks holes in us.”

“You’re the
tree spirit,” said Tiptoes. “But where are you? I can’t see you anywhere.”

“Oh-ho, Little
One,” said the voice. “I am not the tree spirit—though they are all part of me.
I am the Spirit of the Grove. Touch the space between the trees and you will
see me.”

Tiptoes
touched the space between the giant trees and there was the grove spirit. He
had old, ancient eyes, deeper and gentler than a mother. Tiptoes also saw great
suffering for all the trees that had been lost.