(A Tale of the Chuput Country)
A COLD-EYED witch lived in the Cordilleras and when the first snow
commenced to fall she was always full of glee, standing on a rock,
screaming like a wind-gale and rubbing her hands. For it pleased her to
see the winter moon, the green country blotted out, the valleys white,
the trees snow-laden, and the waters ice-bound and black. Winter was her
hunting time and her eating time, and in the summer she slept. So she
was full of a kind of savage joy when there were leaden clouds and
drifting gales, and she waited and watched, waited and watched, ever
ready to spring upon frost-stiffened creatures, that went wandering down
to the warmer lowlands.
This witch was a wrinkled creature, hard of eye, thin-lipped, with hands
that looked like roots of trees, and so tough was her skin that knife
could not cut nor arrow pierce it. In the country that swept down to the
sea she was greatly feared, and hated, too. The hate came because by
some strange magic she was able to draw children to her one by one, and
how she did it no man knew. But the truth is that she had a magic ball,
a ball bright and shining and of many colours, and this she left in
places where children played, but never where man or woman could see it.
One day, near the lake called Oretta, a brother and sister were at play
and saw the magic ball at the foot of a little hill. Pleased with its
brightness and beauty Natalia ran to it, intending to pick it up and
take it home, but, to her surprise, as she drew near to it the ball
rolled away; then, a little way off, came to rest again. Again she ran
to it and almost had her hand on it when it escaped, exactly as a piece
of thistle-down does, just as she was about to grasp it. So she followed
it, always seeming to be on the point of catching it but never doing so,
and as she ran her brother Luis followed, careful lest she should come
to harm. The strange part of it was that every time the ball stopped it
rested close to some berry bush or by the edge of a crystal-clear
spring, so that she, like all who were thus led away, always found at
the moment of resting something to eat or to drink or to refresh
herself. Nor, strangely enough, did she tire, but because of the magic
went skipping and running and jumping just as long as she followed the
ball. Nor did any one under the spell of that magic note the passing of
time, for days were like hours and a night like the shadow of a swiftly
flying cloud.
At last, chasing the ball, Natalia and Luis came to a place in the
valley where the Rio Chico runs between great hills, and it was dark and
gloomy and swept by heavy gray clouds. The land was strewn with mighty
broken rocks and here and there were patches of snow, and soon great
snow flakes appeared in the air. Then boy and girl were terror-struck,
for they knew with all the wandering and twisting and turning they had
lost their way. But the ball still rolled on, though slower now, and the
children followed. But the air grew keener and colder and the sun
weaker, so that they were very glad indeed when they came to a black
rock where, at last, the ball stopped.
Natalia picked it up, and for a moment gazed at its beauty, but for a
moment only. For no sooner had she gazed at it and opened her lips to
speak than it vanished as a soap bubble does, at which her grief was
great. Luis tried to cheer her and finding that her hands were icy cold
led her to the north side of the rock where it was warmer, and there he
found a niche like a lap between two great arms, and in the moss-grown
cranny Natalia coiled herself up and was asleep in a minute. As for
Luis, knowing that as soon as his sister had rested they must set out
about finding a way home, he sat down intending to watch. But not very
long did he keep his eyes open, for he was weary and sad at heart. He
tried hard to keep awake, even holding his eyelids open with his
fingers, and he stared hard at a sunlit hilltop across the valley, but
even that seemed to make him sleepy. Then, too, there were slowly
nodding pine trees and the whispering of leaves, coming in a faint
murmur from the mountainside. So, soon, Luis slept.
Natalia, being out of the blustering wind, was very comfortable in the
little niche between the great stone arms, and she dreamed that she was
at home. Her mother, she thought, was combing her hair and singing as
she did so. So she forgot her hunger and weariness, and in her
dream-land knew nothing of the bare black rocks and snow-patched hills.
Instead, she seemed to be at home where the warm firelight danced on the
walls and lighted her father’s brown face to a lively red as he mended
his horse gear. She saw her brother, too, with his jet-black hair and
cherry-red lips. But her mother, she thought, grew rough and careless
and pulled her hair, so that she gave a little cry of pain and awoke.
Then in a flash she knew where she was and was chilled to the bone with
the piercing wind that swept down from the mountain top. Worse still, in
front of her stood the old witch of the hills, pointing, pointing,
pointing with knotty forefinger, and there were nails on her hands and
feet that looked like claws.
Natalia tried to rise, but could not, and her heart was like stone when
she found what had happened. It was this: while she slept, the witch had
stroked and combed her hair, and meanwhile wrought magic, so that the
girl’s hair was grown into the rock so very close that she could not as
much as turn her head. All that she could do was to stretch forth her
arms, and when she saw Luis a little way off she called to him most
piteously. But good Luis made no move. Instead, he stood with arms wide
apart like one who feels a wall in the dark, moving his hands this way
and that. Then Natalia wept, not understanding and little knowing that
the witch had bound Luis with a spell, so that there seemed to be an
invisible wall around the rock through which he could not pass, try as
he would. But he heard the witch singing in her high and cracked voice,
and this is what she sang:
“Valley all pebble-sown,
Valley where wild winds moan!
Come, mortals, come.
“Valley so cool and white,
Valley of winter night,
Come, children, come.
“Straight like a shaft to mark,
Come they to cold and dark,
Children of men!”
Then she ceased and stood with her root-like finger up-raised, and from
near by came the voice of a great white owl, which took up the song,
saying:
“Things of the dark and things without name,
Save us from light and the torch’s red flame.”
Now all this was by starlight, but the moment the owl had ceased, from
over the hill came a glint of light as the pale moon rose, and with a
sound like a thunderclap the witch melted into the great rock and the
owl flapped away heavily.
“Brother,” whispered the girl, “you heard what the owl said?”
“Yes, sister, I heard,” he answered.
“Brother, come to me. I am afraid,” said Natalia, and commenced to cry a
little.
“Sister,” he said, “I try but I cannot. There is something through which
I cannot pass. I can see but I cannot press through.”
“Can you not climb over, dear Luis?” asked Natalia.
“No, Natalia. I have reached high as I can, but the wall that I cannot
see goes up and up.”
“Is there no way to get in on the other side of the rock, dear, dear
Luis? I am very cold and afraid, being here alone.”
“Sister, I have walked around. I have felt high and low. But it is
always the same. I cannot get through, I cannot climb over, I cannot
crawl under. But I shall stay here with you, so fear not.”
At that Natalia put her hands to her face and wept a little, but very
quietly, and it pained Luis to see the tears roll down her cheeks and
turn to little ice pearls as they fell. After a while Natalia spoke
again, but through sobs.
“Brother mine, you heard what the owl said?”
“Yes, sister.”
“Does it mean nothing to you?” she asked.
“Nothing,” he replied.
“But listen,” said Natalia. “These were the words: ‘Save us from light
and the torch’s red flame.’”
“I heard that, Natalia. What does it mean?”
“It means, brother, that the things in this horrible valley fear fire.
So go, brother. Leave me a while but find fire, coming back with it
swiftly. There will be sickening loneliness, so haste, haste.”
Hearing that, Luis was sad, for he was in no mood to leave his sister in
that plight. Still she urged him, saying: “Speed, brother, speed.”
Even then he hesitated, until with a great swoop there passed over the
rock a condor wheeling low, and it said as it passed: “Fire will conquer
frosted death.”
“You hear, brother,” said Natalia. “So speed and find fire and return
before night.”
Then Luis stayed no longer, but waved his sister a farewell and set off
down the valley, following the condor that hovered in the air, now
darting away and now returning. So Luis knew that the great bird led
him, and he ran, presently finding the river and following it until he
reached the great vega where the waters met.
At the meeting of the waters he came to a house, a poor thing made of
earth and stones snuggled in a warm fold of the hills. No one was about
there, but as the condor flew high and, circling in the air, became a
small speck, Luis knew that it would be well to stay a while and see
what might befall. Pushing open the door he saw by the ashes in the
fireplace that someone lived there, for there were red embers well
covered to keep the fire alive. So seeing that the owner of the house
would return soon he made himself free of the place, which was the way
of that country, and brought fresh water from the spring. Then he
gathered wood and piled it neatly by the fireside. Next he blew upon the
embers and added twigs and sticks until a bright fire glowed, after
which he took the broom of twigs and swept the earth floor clean.
How the man of the house came into the room Luis never knew, but there
he was, sitting by the fire on a stool. He looked at things but said
nothing to Luis, only nodding his head. Then he brought bread and yerba
and offered some to Luis. After they had eaten the old man spoke, and
this is what he said:
“Wicked is the white witch, and there is but one way to defeat her.
What, lad, is the manner of her defeat? Tell me that.”
Then Luis, remembering what the condor had said, repeated the words:
“‘Fire will conquer frosted death.’”
“True,” said the man slowly, nodding his head. “And your sister is
there. Now here comes our friend the condor, who sees far and knows
much.”
“Now with cold grows faint her breath,
Fire will conquer frosted death.”
Having said that the great bird wheeled up sharply.
But no sooner was it out of sight than a turkey came running and stood a
moment, gobbling. To it the old man gave a lighted brand, repeating the
words the condor had spoken.
Off sped the turkey with the blazing stick, running through marsh and
swamp in a straight line, and Luis and the old man watched. Soon the
bird came to a shallow lagoon, yet made no halt. Straight through the
water it sped, and so swiftly that the spray dashed up on either side.
High the turkey held the stick, but not high enough, for the splashing
water quenched the fire, and seeing that, the bird returned, dropping
the blackened stick at the old man’s feet.
“Give me another, for the maiden is quivering cold,” said the turkey.
“This time I will run round the lake.”
“No. No,” answered the man. “You must know that when the water spirit
kisses the fire king, the fire king dies. So, that you may remember,
from now and for ever you will carry on your feathers the marks of
rippling water.”
Down again swooped the condor and a little behind him came a goose,
flying heavily. As before, the condor cried:
“Now with cold grows faint her breath,
Fire will conquer frosted death.”
then flew away again toward the witch mountain.
To the goose the old man gave a blazing stick and at once the brave bird
set off, flying straight in the direction the condor had taken. Over
vega and over lagoon she went, pausing only at a snowclad hilltop,
because the stick had burned close to her beak. So she dropped it in the
snow to get a better hold, and when she picked it up again there was but
a charred thing. Sad enough the goose returned to the house, bearing the
blackened stick, and begged to be given another chance.
“No. No,” said the old man. “The silver snow queen’s kiss is death to
the fire king. That is something you must remember. From now on and for
ever you must carry feathers of gray like the ashes. But here comes the
condor and we must hear his message.”
Sadly then the goose went away, her feathers ash gray, and the condor
wheeled low again, calling:
“Fainter grows the maiden’s breath,
Night must bring the frosted death,”
and having said, like an arrow he shot off.
No sooner had he gone than the long-legged, long-billed flamingo dropped
to the ground.
“Your beak is long,” said the old man, “but fly swiftly, for the stick
is short.”
The flamingo took the burning stick by the end and made straight for the
mountain, racing with all possible speed. As for Luis, he made up his
mind to tarry no longer and set off, running like a deer. But an
ostrich, seeing him, spread her wings like sails and ran by his side. On
her back Luis placed his hand, and with that help sped as fast as the
flamingo. In the air the flamingo went like an arrow, resting not,
although the blazing fire burned her neck and breast until it became
pink and red. But that she heeded not. Straight up the valley and to the
rock where Natalia was bound went she, and into a heap of dried moss on
the south side of the rock she dropped the blazing stick. Up leaped the
dancing flames, and with a tremendous noise the rock flew into a
thousand pieces and the power of the witch was gone for ever. As for
Natalia, she was at once freed, and with her gentle, cool hand stroked
the breast of the flamingo so that the burns were healed, but as a sign
of its bravery the bird has carried a crimson breast from that day to
this. As for Natalia and Luis, they lived for many, many years in the
valley, and about them birds of many kinds played and lived and reared
their young, and the magic ball of the witch lived only in the memory of
men.
[Illustration]