from the earth. He was dressed in tight-fitting breeches of blue with
stockings to match. Red shoes, with golden buckles, were on his feet,
and hanging over his shoulders was a rich crimson cape, fastened about
his throat with a pearl clasp. At his belt dangled a highly polished
sword, and in his hand he carried a black plumed hat. Not a sign of
a beard was on his face, and his hair hung in curls on his back. He
looked as though he had stepped out of an old fashion plate.
The youngsters were too surprised to move or speak; they hardly dared
to breathe, for fear that he would vanish. The stranger walked toward
Uncle Rupert and bowed to him.
"Well, sir, who are you?" demanded the big uncle, "and what brings you
here?"
"I am an exile just banished from my own country," said the little man.
"King Vitius and his selfish wife drove me away because I have always
said that there is a better country above us."
"Oh!" exclaimed Madge, "what stupid people they must be not to know of
this beautiful America."
The man sobered, and Uncle Rupert asked him: "Where is this dull world,
and what is your name?"
"My name is Pietas, and our people live in the center of the earth,"
replied the dwarf.
Uncle Rupert smiled as he watched the children staring with wide-open
mouths.
"We shall all go with you," began the wily story-teller, looking out of
the corner of his eye to see how his scheme was taking, "and help you
to regain your place in your own land."
"I cannot go back, because they would kill me; and besides, if I told
them what I have seen today, they would laugh me to scorn."
"We shall go and force them to take you back!" exclaimed Tom.
"But I do not want to go back," answered the little man. "This is a
glorious country. Our sun does not shine so brightly as yours. If my
people only knew the truth, they would never think of their country as
the greatest and best one. It is a poor gloomy world."
"But!" pleaded Madge, "you can return with us when we have fulfilled
our mission of proving what you told the king."
Pietas agreed, on these terms, and turning on his heels, beckoned them
to follow. All started after him, and when they got to the hole that
the midget had come out of, he sprang lightly down a small embankment
and disappeared through the opening into a cave below.
"Come!" said Tom, jumping in after him, "let us hurry."
They all followed without hesitation. Uncle Rupert was the last to go
down.
When they had gone about a quarter of a mile through the underground
passage, it became so dark that they lost their way.
"I wonder where Pietas is?" shouted Uncle Rupert. "The rascal has
deserted us. Come, boys, let us call his name."
The children screamed, "Pietas!" three or four times, and then the
little fellow appeared with a lantern.
"What do you mean by deserting us, Pietas?" asked Uncle Rupert.
"I was hoping you would not follow me," answered the dwarf; "and I was
wishing that you would get tired and give up the venture. It may mean
death to us all."
Fear now showed itself in the company, and some wanted to turn back,
but others begged Uncle Rupert to go on, and after much talk it was
decided to proceed. Tom was chosen leader, Pietas and Uncle Rupert were
the guides, and in double column they began their journey.
Suddenly as they strode along at a brisk pace, the earth slid from
beneath them, and they fell feet first, down, down--they did not know
where. Filled with terror, they could only think of what might happen
when they struck something.
At last, with a great jolt, they landed and went sprawling in all
directions. When they scrambled to their feet they were glad to be
alive, and for a few moments they stood there panting and wondering.
"Well, of all things!" exclaimed Uncle Rupert, "that was a terrible
fall! I wonder where we are now? Tell us, Pietas."
Pietas said they had fallen three miles. But the force of gravity being
not so strong near the center of the earth they did not fall as fast
as they would have fallen near the surface. They were near his own
kingdom, he said, and a walk of about a hundred yards would bring them
to the alligator's tail.
"Do not be afraid of the animal, my dear people," he said, "for he
cannot harm you. We shall find the monster lying in the path. We shall
walk on the beast for a number of yards, but he cannot harm us nor
shake us off. There will be a little danger when we get to the head,
but if we jump from his nose without falling, no harm can come to us.
The name of the creature is Mortuus, and he is dangerous only to those
who try to leave our kingdom. Few have escaped his deadly bite when
doing that. But let us move on at once."
The children did not hesitate to follow, for Uncle Rupert gave them
confidence. When they came to the great tail, they stepped lightly upon
it and walked along, as they might have walked on board an ocean liner.
"Hist!" exclaimed Pietas, "let us all gather together and get ready to
run and jump off the end of his snout. This is the beginning of the
Middle Earth Kingdom."
Uncle Rupert took little Bee in his arms, and the rest followed the
dwarf, with Uncle Rupert in the rear.
They walked with some difficulty upon the great head of the alligator,
for he kept opening and shutting his jaws. When he opened his mouth,
they seemed to be going uphill, and when he shut it, they felt as if
they were sliding downhill. How the boys did enjoy it! But the girls
found the road a little rough.
When they came to jump off, Uncle Rupert showed them how to do so
while the jaws were shut; then the fall was only seven or eight feet,
whereas, with the mouth open, it would have been at least a hundred
feet.
As soon as they had all landed safely, the monster began to roar like
fifty bulls. He must have been disappointed at losing his supper.
But the children turned their backs on Mortuus and ran about a level
held, gathering black roses and gazing upon the strange scenery that
lay before them.
They had never seen such peculiar flowers. All natural things were of
a somber hue because there was so little sunlight. But the girls were
pleased with the new sights and the boys took off their shoes and waded
in the brooks, chasing little fish.
To Uncle Rupert it was no wonder that the people would not believe what
Pietas said about the better land, seeing that they had to face the
monster alligator in their journey to the United States.
"Pietas," said Uncle Rupert, "I do not believe we shall be able to
convince your people, for the only entrance to the upper country is
so horrible. If we could only kill or disable the monster, we might
succeed in bringing your people out of this place."
"Yes," replied the dwarf, "and besides no one has ever come back to
tell about the other country. I am the first to return from there, and
I hope, through your help, to be able to make my people believe my
report. As for the monster, I am no longer afraid of him. If you and
the boys will help me, perhaps we can put out his eyes so that he will
not be able to harm people that come to him on their journey upward.
Then, too, they can easily step onto his nose when he shuts his mouth,
and when he opens it again he will lift them so that they can walk
along his huge carcass and go on their way."
In a hurried conference, the boys worked out a plan. While the girls
were left playing in the meadow, the boys, led by Uncle Rupert,
cautiously approached the brute.
They found it hard to keep from being sucked into the gaping mouth, but
by holding fast to one another they avoided that danger, while Uncle
Rupert lifted Pietas, armed with his little sword, and threw the tiny
fellow onto the snout. As the beast opened his mouth, thinking that his
dinner had come, Pietas slid down his back out of danger.
The children kept at a safe distance and watched the little man as he
crept toward the creature's left eye. When near enough, with his sword
he made a quick thrust which put that eye quite out. The alligator
roared in pain, and threw open his jaws with such force as to pitch
Pietas into the air, whence he fell at the feet of the astonished party
of boys. The fellow was badly hurt, and they had to carry him to a
nearby brook, where they bathed his bruises. He soon recovered and
became light-hearted again, although he was sorry that he had not put
out both of the alligator's eyes.
"But," said Uncle Rupert, "if we approach him on his blind side, we may
still be able to escape the danger."
The roaring of the monster brought the girls to the place, and when
they found that the party were all safe, they asked Pietas to take them
to see his people. Uncle Rupert and the boys joined in the request, and
so Pietas led the way and they all followed.
They came to a good road that led through a beautiful country. This
highway crossed a very large river. Uncle Rupert explained to the
children that this was the source of one of the greatest rivers of
America. They passed over the bridge and approached a little village.
As they walked through the streets of the town the little pygmies, not
bigger than babies, cried after them: "There go the giants!"
Their destination was the Royal City, which they could see as soon as
they got out of the village. It was a beautiful sight. There nestled
the city in the peculiar dull atmosphere, its spires and tall buildings
shining with pure gold.
Before they reached the city, they were seen by some of the king's
men. They had thought that the country was well rid of the hated
Pietas. Great were their surprise and disgust when they saw him back
and in company with giants. He had told them that he would return some
day and prove to them the truth of all he had said. Here he was, and
what were they to do?
The king hastily called his wise men together, and had a few words with
them. They determined to capture Pietas if possible, and to destroy
the giants. The army was called out and prepared to meet the enemy and
disturber at the gate. The children were indeed surprised, when they
arrived at the entrance, to be met by an army of pigmies, although they
did not look dangerous for they were so small. The party supposed that
the army had been sent out to greet them and Uncle Rupert had prepared
in his mind a long speech of thanks. But things were different from
what they imagined.
A guard, consisting of a captain and a few subordinates, approached
them, and the captain, walking up to Pietas said: "In the name of his
Majesty we arrest you as a disturber of the public conscience."
"But," said Uncle Rupert, "this man has done nothing to deserve
arrest. We brought him hither so that we might confirm the things that
he has told you. He is no disturber of the public conscience."
But without paying any attention, the soldiers began to march off with
their prisoner. The children knew that this meant death to poor Pietas.
Uncle Rupert looked at his companions to see what they wanted to do
about it. He had not long to wait, for Tom, who was as big as four of
the soldiers, snatched Pietas from the guard and shoved the captain
over. Thereupon the guard fled, and the captain, scrambling to his
feet, ran after his men.
"I'll beat the whole bunch myself!" boasted Tom as he rolled up his
sleeves.
Pietas begged the Americans to return and leave him to his fate, but
they would not. Then the pygmy army prepared to charge the little band
and take him if they could.
"Please," said Pietas, "let me meet my people in my own way. I feel
that I am to blame for bringing you here."
"No, you are not!" cried all the children with one breath. "Indeed
not," added Uncle Rupert.
Pietas smiled and then turned and fled to the armed men. In vain did
Tom and others call him back. The party watched as he quietly gave
himself up to the law of his people. The soldiers wheeled and marched
with their captive to the palace of the king. A mob quickly gathered
around the Americans and began to threaten them.
"Beware, good people!" shouted Uncle Rupert. "Take care that you do not
hurt a single hair of one of these children! We are not come to harm
you, but to tell you a great truth. There is a fine country just above
your heads where the sun shines all day and the stars come out in the
evening; a land full of trees and birds and flowers and brooks. The air
is not stuffy as it is here, nor is the place gloomy like this. All
men and women are giants in our land. Now you have captured Pietas!"
continued Uncle Rupert, coming to the business in hand. "I tell you
that, if you do not let him go, we will fight this day for his freedom;
and if we lose, be it known that our people will quickly send men to
destroy your whole nation!"
To the surprise of the American party, Uncle Rupert's remarks were
greeted with cheers of approval. The multitude of little folks gathered
about the strangers and shook their hands. At last they believed the
story of the other world. Many wished to go to America with the
returning travelers.
Then Uncle Rupert led the whole crowd to the palace of the king, hoping
to rescue poor Pietas. When they got there, the king was throned on a
high platform, while Pietas, in chains, stood before him, the king's
soldiers standing at rest and looking on.
Uncle Rupert made his way through the crowd of people and reached the
platform.
There he turned to the soldiers and leaders and appealed to them for
the life of his little friend.
The king arose with fear and asked: "Who art thou, great giant?"
"I am Rupert Randall, a citizen of the United States of America!"
"Do you speak of the Upper Country, sir, as this impudent Pietas has
done?"
"I do, O King, and I wish that I could persuade you of the truth.
Pietas is an honorable man and has tried to help your people, but you
would not let him!"
The king wrung his hands and exclaimed: "I am determined to free Pietas
now. I am puzzled beyond words, and fear I may be undone; but I shall
set Pietas free."
But the soldiers shouted: "Away with the imposter! He has declared
against the army. He is no friend of the king. Besides, these Americans
have insulted and abused our captain!"
The king tried to appease the multitude but they kept on crying for the
life of Pietas. No one could speak, no one could hear, because of the
screaming. At last the poor king motioned to the people to leave, and
the soldiers took Pietas and marched him away.
The Americans followed at a little distance, watching for an
opportunity to rescue their friend, but before they could interfere,
the soldiers had bound Pietas to a tree.
Suddenly Tom and Madge rushed through the crowd and struck right
and left, knocking soldiers and citizens down in their mad rush to
pull their friend from the tree. Uncle Rupert, with the rest of the
children, followed the brave little leaders.
In a few moments the rescuers had Pietas unbound and in their arms.
The poor fellow was all but unconscious from fright and rough usage.
The soldiers fled before the giants as they carried their dear little
friend away. Pietas revived, sat up, called all the people to his
side, and told them he was glad that they had treated him so. "For,"
explained he, "they have not really hurt me, and I rejoice to suffer in
witnessing to the truth."
No sooner had he spoken than many poor people came to him and begged
to be allowed to go with him. He told them to remain and tell all the
others the good news. "When you are through doing your duty, then I
will come for you. Meanwhile, I am going with my friends to the Upper
Country."
With sorrow he bade them good-by, and with the American party he turned
and walked the road to the great alligator. At first, the children were
afraid of the monster, but soon they cautiously approached him on his
blind side, without attracting his attention. It was not difficult for
them to spring upon his head; but when they had done so, the monster
opened his mouth and threw them into the air and they rolled down his
nose.
"Oh! Oh!" they shouted. It took them a few minutes to realize that
they had been in the park all the time and that Uncle Rupert had been
telling them a story. "Oh, Uncle, where is Pietas?" asked Madge.
"Pietas," replied Uncle Rupert, "is not here, he has returned to his
own country to tell his people more about his new home. He expects to
lead all his people here some day.
"I have preached you a long sermon, my dears, and I do hope that you
understood it. Pietas represented the Master who was killed but was
revived by his Father to return again on Easter to tell his own country
of the beautiful heaven and how to live so as to be worthy of it."
"Do tell us another story!" cried Madge. "We did so enjoy that one.
Why, I thought that I was in the land of the Under World and I pitied
the poor creatures there."
"So, my dear, do the saints pity us in this world; and they are hoping
that we will be good, so that we may reach the Upper World.
"Now what do you say--shall I jump off the cliff?"
"No!" they all shouted.
THE BLACK HUS
TO tell the complete story of the Black Hus would take as many years
as civilized man has been on earth. The largest state in the Union is
scarcely big enough to contain the books that could be written about
the terrible monster.
Even today there is a Hus in every country, but this particular Hus
lived in Greece many hundred years ago. It was related to the Hebrew
Chazir spoken of in the Bible.
You remember the Chazir that attacked Noah when he was making merry in
his tent. Noah was drinking some good wine, when all at once the beast
rushed upon him, tore his clothing and seized him by the throat. When
his sons came to his rescue, they found their father lying naked in his
tent, in a helpless condition, and the dreadful Chazir standing over
him. As soon as the beast saw the stalwart sons, he fled into the night.
You remember that it was Ham who laughed at his father's condition,
because he had not seen the Chazir, but only his father's foolish
condition. Ham's two brothers, Shem and Japheth, covered their father
with a sheepskin blanket and went their way much wiser.
Passing now to Greece, we read of a nobleman there who had many sons
and daughters. The eldest son, who was the apple of his eye, he called
Egkartes because he was a good, honest fellow.
"Egkartes," the father said one day, "I am going to give you the next
litter of pigs born on the farm."
This was a fine offer, for it meant the beginning of the boy's fortune.
Not long after this there was a family of thirteen little pigs on the
farm. Twelve of the baby pigs were perfectly white, but one little
fellow's skin was black as pitch, and his eyes were red as live coals.
Almost as soon as he was born he began to show a savage disposition.
The black fellow soon awakened the curiosity of the neighborhood. No
pig like him anywhere to be seen. He grew twice as fast as his little
brothers, and daily became more savage. When eighteen months old, he
weighed fifteen hundred pounds, and had to be kept in a separate pen
and watched day and night for fear he would devour his brothers.
People came from far and near to see the monster, and went away
thanking their stars that he was not allowed to run at large.
One beautiful autumn day the nobleman gave a thanksgiving dinner for
his freemen. The best of foods and drinks were served, and the men ate
till they could eat no more, and drank till they could scarcely see.
They became very noisy and filled the banqueting hall with such profane
language that the Greek maids who had been engaged to dance for their
amusement fled in fear.
No sooner had they gone than the black pig appeared in the hall. Some
of the men rose to drive him back to his pen, but he would not go. He
stood before their blurred eyes, shaking his ugly head and gnashing his
terrible teeth.
Some of the stupid fellows thought that the pig must be mad; others
said he must be a devil clothed in pig's flesh. They all kept a safe
distance from him, hiding wherever they could, till at last Egkartes
cautiously approached the monster, intending to lead him to his pen,
as the youth had done on like occasions. But when as usual, he took
the pig by the ear, the beast turned upon him with a thundering roar,
seized his arm, and shook him as a terrier shakes a rat.
Then the half-drunken father, staggering to his son's help, beat the
animal over the head with a great stick; but this only increased the
pig's fury, and dropping the boy, he ran amuck against the company,
biting every man in the room.
One man, trying to escape by jumping over the pig, landed at full
length on the creature's back, where he clung for dear life. The black
pig did his best to shake the man off, but he held on with might and
main. Round and round spun the pig squealing and grunting furiously.
The man kept his hold so firmly, that at length some of his companions
crept from their hiding places and cheered the plucky rider.
Finally the pig sprang through the door and ran for the open
country, the man clinging to him like a "broncho-buster," while his
companions--as many as were not too stupified by excess at table--gave
chase, frantically shouting. Down the lane the strange steed charged,
over the fence he leaped, madly shaking himself at every jump, and
continued his career till he came to a narrow footbridge over a deep
river, and tried to cross it. As he reached the middle of the bridge,
he slipped and rolled into the stream below, carrying his rider with
him.
When he reappeared the man was swimming desperately for the bank,
which he soon succeeded in reaching. The pig also landed safely and
disappeared into the opposite woods.
"Well, boys!" exclaimed the pig rider, sobered, "that was a narrow
escape! That little bridge saved my life. That was one time when I
needed some one to help me let go!"
These men were a sorry-looking crew as they returned home tattered and
torn. There was not a man among them with a whole garment.
The Hus never came back to the farm.
When the story of his antics was repeated from mouth to mouth, people
would not believe it. But the monster was by no means through. A month
later he appeared in the Royal City and killed many of its inhabitants.
The rumor spread everywhere that the Hus was devouring the men of
Greece.
The king was much alarmed and offered a reward for its capture, but the
dreadful destruction went on. Finally his Majesty offered the hand of
his only daughter and the half of his kingdom to the man who would slay
the brute. But in spite of all endeavors to win so great a prize, the
pig continued his terrible work, appearing now here, now there, and
killing even the bravest men of the kingdom. Strange to say the monster
seldom attacked women.
A year passed, and the Hus had grown to a more enormous size. Some said
that he was as big as an elephant.
For a long time the nobleman and his family had to remain in hiding
because of the fury of the multitude, who blamed him for raising the
pig. The king seized his property, and the nobleman became a poor man
and for some years he and his family were outcasts.
At last Egkartes determined to redeem his father's good name and, if
possible, win the fair princess.
His father and mother were pleased with his boldness and readily
consented to his undertaking. At once great preparations were made, and
five men were persuaded to accompany the young adventurer. With brave
hearts they set forth, confident of victory.
On the third day, as they approached the city they met a woman crying
as if her heart must break. She told them that on the night before, her
husband had been killed by some monster. She described the spot, near
her dwelling, where she had found her husband, Methuson, dying on the
roadside. "I ran to him," she said, "and held his head in my arms. His
clothes were torn almost off his back. When I spoke to him, he opened
his eyes and muttered something about a black beast, and then fell back
senseless."
The men accompanied the poor weeping woman to her miserable hut, and
as they stepped within and beheld Methuson and sniffed the odor of the
place, they knew that the Hus was the beast that had done the deed.
Egkartes stooped and listened over the unconscious man's heart for some
sign of life. In a few moments he rose to his feet, and turning to the
wife, exclaimed: "Your husband is not dead!"
Sure enough the unfortunate fellow sat up. His eyes were red and
inflamed, his temper was likewise fiery, for he broke into loud
curses. But in a little while he recovered his reason and thanked his
deliverers. Methuson begged to be allowed to accompany the band of
Hus-hunters, and they readily gave their consent.