once, dashed his apprentices, helter-skelter,—some with hammers, some
with horseshoes, some with hoes, some with shovels, some with pots,—with
everything in all Eisenburg to be made or mended with iron. And so,
clattering and stumbling, they came and stood, five-and-twenty strong,
before Herr Klinkerklanker.
“Measuring rods, quills, inkhorns,” said he. “And all to the
market-place.”
[Illustration: Three at once]
Hoes, hammers, horseshoes, shovels, pots, rattled down in one
clanging pile. And the apprentices, two by two, fell in behind Herr
Klinkerklanker. And so the giants, all in a hurry, stepped out of the
market-place to let them in.
Then there was a bustling indeed. Those who were good at measuring
started in on Grosshand’s belt. Those who were good at writing copied the
numbers on Grosskopf’s spoon. Those who were good at figuring scribbled
and scratched With all their might to find out how much two and a half
times Grosshand’s belt might be. As for the rest, Herr Klinkerklanker
sent them to knock at all the house doors until they got every bit of
iron in town and a hundred lusty men to hammer it.
[Illustration: Four at once]
Not even the giants remained idle. Grosskopf and Grossmund tore wide,
flat boulders out of the mountain and set them up for a forge and an
anvil in the market-place. Grosshand came rattling back with all his pots
swinging in his hands and strung clattering about his neck.
And then giants, hammerers, apprentices, set up such a clinking and a
clanking and a puffing and a blowing as never was heard in all Germany
before. All day long the great forge flame swept skywards. All day
long the five-and-twenty apprentices swung their sledges while Herr
Klinkerklanker shouted orders. All day long the hundred hammerers beat
and pounded at the glowing iron that was to be the giants’ pot.
All day long Grossmund puffed out his great cheeks and blew to keep up
the forge flame. All day long Grosshand lifted the pot from forge to
anvil, and back again from anvil to forge. All day long Grosskopf stood
quietly by ready to think in case of emergency.
[Illustration: Five at once]
As for the housewives of Eisenburg, they were busy too, with every kettle
in all the town a-steam and a-stew with porridge to feed the giants until
their own pot should be done. But the children had the most fun, for
they had nothing whatever to do but dance about the market-place and
watch the hammers swinging and the sparks skyrocketing and the big, slow
giants lifting and blowing and thinking.
What with heating and beating, and hammering inside and out, the great
iron mass grew gradually taller and taller and bulgier and bulgier,
until one day in the middle of the square there stood a black, shiny
mountain of a pot. Then there was a holiday, you may be sure. The hundred
hammerers, the five-and-twenty apprentices, and even Herr Klinkerklanker
himself went dancing about the pot in a jubilant circle. And every man
and woman and child in all Eisenburg climbed the high scaffolding and
walked round and round the top of the pot, peering down into the black,
slippery abyss inside.
Now, the giants were as generous as they were big; and standing in the
streets and gardens behind the square, they looked down benevolently at
the merrymaking. Then Grossmund called to Herr Klinkerklanker to hold out
his apron, and Grosshand who was a good shot, poured into it a continuous
stream of gold-pieces,—for the apprentices and the hammerers and all
the good housewives who had kept them in porridge. Then when the women
had curtsied and the men had bowed and the bells had clanged, and all
the people together had shouted, “Huzza for the giants!” Grosshand and
Grosskopf picked up the big pot and went swinging off with it across the
Rhine, while Grossmund followed, calling good-bys to Eisenburg.
The very first thing the giants did when they got back to their
mountain-top was to fill their new pot full of porridge and put it on the
stove. Sure enough, it was just a fit! So, they sat around and watched
the porridge bubble and steam; and the minute it was done, they dipped
their spoons in all at once, shut their eyes, opened their mouths, and
swallowed very hard, all together. They ate and ate until they had to
let out their belts; and then when there was no more porridge left, they
licked their spoons and lay back and looked at the new pot.
“It is as wide as the stove,” cried Grosshand.
“It is as deep as the bowl,” said Grosskopf.
“It is as big as our appetites!” cried Grossmund, smacking his lips.
So, meal after meal went joyously by. The giants would put in their
spoons, shut their eyes, open their mouths, and swallow all together till
the porridge was gone. Then they would lick their spoons, smack their
lips, and remark for the hundredth time on the satisfactory size of the
pot.
[Illustration: The apprentices scampered to the market-place.]
But one day, long before it came time to let out belts, the giants’
spoons brought up no more porridge. They felt here, and they felt there;
but _the porridge was all gone_.
“But I’m still hungry,” cried Grosshand angrily.
“And I’m still hungry,” cried Grosskopf, still angrier.
“And _I’m_ still hungry,” cried Grossmund, angriest of all.
The giants looked at one another. When they began, the pot had been full
to overflowing, and now before they were half through, there was no more
porridge.
Then Grosskopf had an idea. “Look for a hole,” he said.
Grosshand seized the pot and turned it over. He felt here and he felt
there. He twisted it this way and that. But the more he examined, the
better he saw that the pot was as firm and sound as the day it was made.
Grosskopf thought again. “The pot has shrunk,” he said.
The giants looked.
“It is as wide as the stove,” said Grosshand.
“It is as deep as the bowl,” said Grosskopf.
“But it’s not as big as our appetites,” wailed Grossmund.
The next day it was just the same. The pot looked as big as ever, and the
giants were no hungrier than usual, and yet there was not half enough
porridge to go around.
On the third day Grosskopf came to a conclusion. “The thing is
bewitched,” he said.
“Herr Klinkerklanker! Herr Klinkerklanker!” roared Grossmund. “Our pot is
bewitched.”
And with that Grosshand and Grosskopf seized it and went tearing down
the mountain, through the Rhine, and straight to Eisenburg. And all the
housewives, all the children, the hundred hammerers, the five-and-twenty
apprentices, and Herr Klinkerklanker himself heard Grossmund’s
roars, dropped their work and their playthings, and scampered to the
market-place as fast as their legs could carry them.
Grosshand laid the pot on its side in the very center of the square.
“Herr Klinkerklanker,” he said, “the pot is still as wide as the stove—”
“And as deep as the bowl,” put in Grosskopf.
“And yet we go hungry to bed,” finished Grossmund.
The hundred hammerers shook, the five-and-twenty apprentices trembled;
and all the people stood breathless while Herr Klinkerklanker walked
slowly all the way around the pot, and then stepped inside. The giants
wrinkled their great brows and waited.
Suddenly something echoed and reëchoed inside the pot. The people
listened. It was a sound that chuckled and stopped and went on again, and
somehow reminded one for all the world—of a _laugh_.
Then Herr Klinkerklanker stepped to the mouth of the pot and clapped his
hands. The apprentices ran to him.
“Hoes!” cried Herr Klinkerklanker.
In a twinkling the five-and-twenty apprentices with their five-and-twenty
hoes were in the pot. Then there arose such a scratching and scraping,
and a scraping and scratching as never was heard before; and suddenly out
of the pot, into the square burst a whole snowstorm of dried porridge.
Herr Klinkerklanker stepped out and bowed to the giants. “Friends,” he
said, “if you will wash your pot clean, it will always be the same size.”
And with that hammerers and housewives, apprentices and children broke
into a peal of laughter. As for the giants, they were so much relieved,
and so good-natured at any rate, that they liked nothing better than a
joke on themselves. Grosskopf capered, Grossmund shouted, and Grosshand
let fall such a shower of gold-pieces that the Eisenburgers were still
scrambling for them a week later.
Every day after that, as soon as a meal was over, the giants gave their
pot such a swishing and a swashing in the river Rhine as made the boats
take good care to keep out of their way. And so the pot stayed the same
satisfactory size, inside as well as out. And the giants, having nothing
to trouble them and plenty to eat, grew very fat and contented indeed.
What finally became of Grosshand, Grossmund, and Grosskopf, I cannot
tell. For a number of years the Eisenburgers have not seen them. Their
pot too seems to have vanished completely. Only the water of the Rhine
has never been quite so clear since the giants took to washing out their
pot there. And sometimes on a clear evening when the Eisenburgers look
up at the mountain and see a trail of smoke against the sunset, they nod
wisely, for they know that the faithful fire is still burning, waiting
for the giants to come back and cook their porridge.
—_Adapted from a Rhine legend._
[Illustration]
VII
The Giant Who Rode on the Ark
The wiry wasp, the bumble bee,
The loon, the linnet and the lark,
The kangaroo and chimpanzee
Were shown a place within the Ark:
The gnawing gnu, the restive roe,
The armadillo none denied;
No one asked the giants, though,
And poor Hurtali rode outside.
_Seymour Barnard._
VII
The Giant Who Rode on the Ark
[Illustration]
Ever since the beginning of things there have been giants. But the first
ones of all we know little about. For, oddly enough, they were so big
that no one ever really saw them.
Back in Adam and Eve’s time, and even for many years after, there were
very few people; and instead of being all over the earth as people are
now, they lived quite close together in a very small country. Among them
lived the giants, tremendous fellows, bigger than the highest mountains,
and so tall that if you leaned back until your neck ached you could not
see to the top of one of them. Half the time, at any rate, their heads
were hidden above the clouds, so it would have done you but little good
to look. It was almost never that you could see the whole of a giant at
once.
But even if one of Adam’s grandchildren had seen all of a giant, it
would have caused him little surprise. For everything was new in those
days, and one thing seemed no stranger than another. As it was, people
scrambled about over the giants’ feet every day and thought only that
they were climbing some new kind of hill. As for the giants themselves,
going about with their heads above the clouds, and their eyes fixed on
the stars and sun, they had not the slightest idea of the little people
crawling about at their feet. Even when unknowingly they stepped on a
whole house, they were none the wiser.
And so it might have gone on, the people knowing nothing of the giants,
and the giants knowing nothing of the people until this day, had it not
been for the Flood.
The first giant, and the biggest of all, was called Chalbroth. Mountains
were but hummocks to him. When he was thirsty he stooped and drank from
the clouds. When he was hungry he caught a whale and held it up before
the sun to toast. And he strode about the world three thousand years
without so much as dreaming of the tiny race of men. No more did his son
or grandson. That was left for his great-grandson, Hurtali.
[Illustration: People thought they were climbing some new kind of hill]
Hurtali was not so tall as his great-grandfather, but he was a fairly
good-sized giant, a mile or so high, and quite big enough to take care
of himself. And that was fortunate, for Hurtali was an orphan, without
brothers or sisters. However, he did not mind that much, for there were
plenty of good games he could play alone. In the morning, when he got
up, he would take a little run across country, playing leapfrog with the
smaller mountains on the way. Then he would wade out into the middle
of the ocean till he found a place deep enough for him, and swim a few
thousand miles before breakfast. When he wanted a quicker bath, all he
had to do was to step into a thick cloud, and out into the dry sunlight
on the other side. There was endless fun to be had with the clouds,
anyhow: blowing the little ones about, and cutting up the thin ones with
his fingers into all kinds of shapes,—whales and mountains and trees and
giants. Then when he got tired of them, he would run and wave his arms
and blow, and scatter the whole lot of them helter-skelter.
The nice part was, that no matter how thick the clouds got, Hurtali was
always able to climb a mountain and stick his head through into the
pleasant weather above. But every position has its disadvantages, and it
must be confessed that when a sizeable thunderstorm came snapping about
his ears, he was quite as glad to lie down in a valley and go to sleep.
As for the rain, he seldom felt it at all, although sometimes when it
came down in sheets it would seem to him that there was a heavy mist.
And that was why, when the Flood came, it lasted for a week or so before
Hurtali took the slightest notice of it. It had rained for days and days.
The rivers rose and rose until finally in one great torrent they went
sweeping over all the land, and drowned every man and woman and child and
bird and beast in the whole world, except those that were lucky enough
to be with Noah in his Ark. Even the eagles came dropping through the
air last of all, beaten down by the rain, and fell like sparrows about
Hurtali’s feet. But Hurtali regarded it not at all. He sat on a high
mountain, head and shoulders in the bright sunlight above the clouds, and
whistled serenely.
Going across country, to be sure, it was a little sloppy. But Hurtali
liked that, and ran splashing along with the greatest glee in the world.
One day, when he got to the place where the ocean used to begin, all the
water suddenly rolled up before him in a wave as high as he was, and cast
itself back again with a roar and a rush that swept the land clear of
trees for miles and miles. Hurtali laughed aloud, and plunged into the
foam. He shouted, he dived, he turned somersaults. He swam and swam, and
then, quite tired out, turned to start for home.
Then he looked about puzzled. _There was no land in sight._ Not an
island, not a hill,—nothing but water as far as he could see. He swam
harder. Finally a sharp point appeared on the horizon. He made for
it, and as he drew nearer he saw it clearly. It was a single, jagged
mountain-peak. He put one foot down and touched bottom. He could walk
now, although the water was above his waist. Uprooted forests tripped his
toes, and he slipped desperately over slimy hills onto scratchy cliffs.
All in all, it was not a pleasant walk, and when Hurtali finally settled
himself on his rather uncomfortable mountain and began to pick the crags
out of his feet, he was in anything but a happy frame of mind. He was
tired and hungry and he had not seen a whale all day. Worse still, how
was he going to sleep at night? There was not a plain in the whole world
where he could lie down without drowning; and as for the mountain-top, it
was much too small.
Hurtali bent down, picked a handful of trees and ate them moodily. Then
an ingenious idea struck him. If he could not lie flat why not go to
sleep reclining? He could stretch himself along the mountain, with his
head at the top and his feet in the water below. He scrambled half way
down to try it, and leaned carelessly back. In an instant he was up
again, howling with pain. Hundreds of precipices had stuck into his back,
and he had laid his head squarely on an ice-field.
Hurtali was infuriated. He was not so easily to be foiled. He plucked out
cliff after cliff in his rage and hurled them splashing into the water.
With one of them he pounded madly on the glacier, sending ice-splinters
in a bright fountain skywards. By nightfall he had cleared the mountain.
He lay back, propping himself with a cliff or two on either side to keep
from rolling over into the water. Then wearily he opened his mouth and
snored to high heaven.
[Illustration: There, stuck on the rocks, was a tremendous wooden box]
All of a sudden, Hurtali awoke. Somewhere there was a noise that
disturbed him. It was the queerest noise anyway. It seemed to be made up
of a hundred small sounds. It was a twittering, a rustling, a chirping,
and a tiny screaming all at once.
“Just my luck!” thought Hurtali sleepily. “I’ve gone and laid my head in
a whole colony of eagles’ nests.”
Then he rubbed his eyes open. It was morning, and what felt so cold
around his neck was water. It had risen until it had covered him up in
the night.
But the noise kept on. It did not seem to have the slightest intention of
stopping. The wider awake Hurtali grew, the louder it seemed to become.
It did not sound at all like eagles any more, and it seemed to come from
somewhere very near his left ear. Hurtali turned over on his side. There,
stuck on the rocks he had piled up, was a tremendous wooden box, almost
as long as he was himself. The ends floated in the water, but the middle
was wedged firmly on the rocky shelf. It was from that the noises came.
Hurtali raised himself on one elbow and put his ear against the box.
Inside, hundreds of little creatures seemed to be moving about. There
were steps and stampings, small roars and tiny shrieks, flutterings and
callings, barkings and bleatings innumerable. It was Noah’s Ark waking
up for the day, but of course Hurtali did not know that. He listened,
fascinated.
Just then a window in the side shot open, and four men with four poles,
leaning out, began to push against the rock with all their strength.
Hurtali gasped. Never in all his life had he seen such tiny creatures.
He watched breathlessly as they braced themselves and struggled. But the
harder they pushed, the firmer the Ark seemed to stick.
Now, Hurtali was a kind-hearted giant, and while he could not but
chuckle to see the little people struggling at a task so much too big
for them, his first thought was to help them out. So he put out both
his great hands and pushed against the side of the Ark. But the Ark was
stuck too fast even for that, and instead of sliding off into the water
with Hurtali’s shoves, it tossed first on one side and then on the other,
and so rocked violently back and forth. And with that there arose such
a scrambling and scratching as never was heard before, as the animals
rolled about inside. Elephants trumpeted, cows mooed, donkeys brayed,
eagles screamed, dogs barked, lions roared, pigs squealed, wolves howled,
orangoutangs chattered.
As for Noah, Shem, Ham, and Japheth, who had been pushing, their eyes had
been so fast fixed on their poles that they did not see the giant’s arms
at all, and thought the whole commotion due to their own efforts.
But when Hurtali saw that he could not budge the Ark that way, he
scrambled up out of the water with splashes that set the craft seesawing.
Then, throwing one leg across, he jumped on top, as a man mounts a
horse. And sitting there a-straddle, he pushed with his foot against the
cliff,—once, twice, three times. And with the third push the Ark sailed
off suddenly, with Hurtali sitting atop.
It was a new experience for Hurtali, and he laughed with his whole
voice. In all his life he had never been on any kind of boat before, and
this one was so jolly. It went wabbling about over the waves with queer
splashes and gurgles. Hurtali swung his legs and roared out a giant-song.
Once in a while his toes would strike against a half drowned mountain,
and then he would push with all his might to keep his big craft off the
rocks.
All at once, Hurtali was conscious of a change. Inside the Ark everything
was strangely quiet. Not a roar, not a bark, not even a squeal disturbed
the stillness. Just in front of him on the roof was a chimney. He put his
ear down. There was a sound, but it was faint and different. It rose and
fell with contented regularity. It was a low, munching, crunching sound,
as if the hundreds of little creatures were moving their jaws up and down
all at once.
A sympathetic twinge shot through Hurtali. He remembered suddenly and
definitely that he had had no breakfast. He sat up and scanned the water
for whales. Just then a noise came up the chimney as if some of the
little beings were gathered there shouting and stamping. Hurtali looked.
At the bottom stood the men he had seen before at the window. With them
was a curious four-legged beast with a long neck that stretched up the
chimney to the very top. The men spoke to the creature. Slowly it bent
its head, and one of the men clambered up on it. Then with infinite
deliberation it stretched its neck out again, carrying the man to the
very top of the chimney.
[Illustration: The little man stood on the edge of the chimney.]
Hurtali straightened up in surprise. But the little man did not seem
in the least alarmed or afraid. He grasped the edge of the chimney and
cautiously climbed out on it. Then he turned toward Hurtali and bowed
low. He was an old man with a thin white beard that reached nearly to his
feet, and he wore a tremendous turban wound and re-wound about his head.
Noah sharply clapped his hands. The giraffe’s nose appeared again in the
chimney, stacked up with bowls of food. One by one, Noah removed them and
set them down, with a bow, on the roof before Hurtali. Then, with the
same slow gravity, he mounted himself again on the giraffe’s head and
started to descend as he had come.
Hurtali was dumb with surprise. But he had been brought up to be polite.
So, just as Noah disappeared through the chimney, he gasped out a “Thank
you,” which was pretty weak for a giant, but which boomed through the
Ark, and set all the animals to squealing, nevertheless.
Then he turned to the food. There were two sheep and a cow, with a bowl
of pottage and a dish of honey for dessert. Hurtali disposed of them all
in just three mouthfuls, and looked about for more.
Then it occurred to him that the little people were not used to a giant’s
appetite; and, being a polite giant as we have said, he determined to get
along without telling them. He turned his eyes to the water again, and
before dinner he caught twenty-five good-sized whales which he fastened
up behind him on the roof where Noah could not see them.
Days went by, and still the waters rose. There was not a dry
mountain-peak on the whole earth. Hurtali could not even feel one with
his toes. Sometimes, when the water was clear, he could dimly see one,
hundreds of feet below. Usually, however, the water was ruffled. The wind
blew, and the waves dashed up over the Ark, often to Hurtali’s waist.
Streams of mist seemed to be trickling through his hair and down his
cheeks, and for the first time in his life he got the idea that it was
raining. His legs were cold and numb, and he felt uncommonly stiff in
every joint.
By day things were not so bad. For Hurtali could hear the little
creatures racing about inside the ark, screaming and scolding, jumping
and playing, lowing and howling and squeaking. But at night when they
were all asleep, it was more than lonesome. It was black with a blackness
Hurtali had never known before; and the wind whistled through his hair
and chilled his arms, and sometimes beat against him till he nearly fell
over into the water. Somehow he managed to keep his seat, and the gray
morning comforted him. Three times every day the giraffe reached up food
to him, and three times Hurtali would send back by it the dishes of the
meal before, and then reach cautiously behind him for a whale.
[Illustration: Bears bounded]
So, time went on, until one day Hurtali noticed a brightness in the sky.
The mist no longer streamed over his face. The waters were still. Up
in the brightest cloud, he could make out a round, shining disk. Then
Hurtali knew that it was clearing off, and he shouted down the chimney
with almost all his voice, “The sun! The sun!”
[Illustration: Mice scampered]
A few days later he felt something hard and jagged with his foot. It
was a mountain, and he knew that the waters were going down. Soon peaks
began to appear like sharp teeth all about them on the horizon; and one
day, far off, Hurtali saw one that was soft and green. Then he put forth
all his strength. He paddled with his feet like a duck and sent the Ark
straight and sure for that mountain. Hurtali put out his foot and touched
the land. Then, very gently, he set the Ark safe and dry upon the top of
Mount Ararat.