THIS is a tale that I heard when I was gold digging in Tierra del Fuego,
and if you want to get to the tale and skip the introduction, you may.
To do that, stop here—and pass over everything until you come to the
three stars * * * and begin at “Many years ago.” But if you want
information and all that kind of thing, read straight on and learn that
the man who told me the tale was named Soto, Adolpho Soto. He called
himself a Bolivian and said that it was a tale of Bolivia, but he had
never been to that country. His parents were Bolivian, but he had been
born and reared in inland Patagonia, on the east side of the Cordilleras
and north of the great shallow gulf that runs inland from the Strait of
Magellan. Anyway, he had heard the tale from others who knew all about
the three great stones and how they looked. Certainly he had not read
the story, for books meant nothing to him and he would not as much as
look at a picture. And it was quite clear to me that he believed every
word of the tale. Indeed, I am almost sure that he was doubtful in his
mind as to the wisdom of telling me all of it, thinking that I would not
believe it. Perhaps that is why he told me the tale in two parts, as if
in some manner I might thus get used to the shock of it. Mind you, on
the other hand, I am certain that he did not believe all that I told
him, though he was too polite to express unbelief. For instance, he
could not quite see how carriages went without horses, nor how men sent
messages over miles of wire, nor how the sound of a human voice could
come from a little box, without magic; for in the country that Adolpho
came from there were no railways, no telegraphs, and no phonographs. So
to the tale, or rather the first part of it, if you choose to hear it.
* * *
_The First Part_
Many years ago, said Soto, there came into the world a cat. It was in
the days when all creatures were harmless; when the teeth and claws of
the jaguar did not hurt; when the fang of the serpent was not poisonous;
when the very bushes had no thorns. But this cat was of evil heart and
unmerciful and a curse to the world, for she went about teaching
creatures to scratch and to bite, to tear and to kill, to hide in shady
places and leap out on unsuspecting things. Even a sheep she did not
leave to its own ways, but commenced to teach that gentle thing to fight
by butting with its head, though as it came to pass most luckily, the
cat came to a place where its mischief was stopped, as you shall hear
soon, so that señor sheep was left with his lesson half or less than
half learned, so that the youngest child now need not fear a whole
flock.
But for the most part the cat slept in the daytime, so did not make all
the mischief that she might have made, although she dreamed mischief,
let it be remembered. But this was the bad thing of it: her dream came
to life and walked the earth in the shape of a man with a fox-face, and
a very terrible monster was he, for being a dream man he could not be
killed. That you may see for yourself.
Sometimes he appeared among men, dressed in fine robes in a way of a
rich man, clothes wonderfully fine, as fine as those that you may see
about the men pictured on the playing cards. Sometimes it was otherwise
and he came as one all worn and travel-stained. Sometimes he came as a
head without a body, making mouths or looking slantwise; sometimes he
ran at people, did this dream man, ran with hooked fingers and claw
nails and made it so that the one he chased could not run at all, or
running, moved but slowly. For such must be the nature of the dreams of
cats, as everyone knows who has seen a cat with a mouse. But whichever
way the dream man came, mischief of some kind walked with him, and for
the most part he did his evil work by granting men their wishes. For you
must know that no man knows the thing that is best for him and for his
welfare, and many are apt to see some little things as desirable, the
which in time work out for their own undoing. Thus, once there was a man
who was a woodcutter, and growing weary of hard work he sat him down
under a tree and sighed, saying that though he worked hard, yet his work
was never done, and there were many mouths to feed. Then who should
appear before him but the fox-faced man, which of course was but the
cat-dream come to life, the cat meantime being asleep in the sun. So
this happened:
“Why do you complain?” asked the fox-faced one, who knew very well what
was afoot.
“All day I cut and chop, and chop and cut, but at the end of the day
little is the work that I have done, and my very children for whom I
toil, and for whom my wife toils, do but grumble that I am not rich,”
answered the poor fellow, who was indeed a very worthy man.
“Lucky for you, then, is it that you have seen me,” said fox-face. “For
know that I have it in my power to grant you a wish. What then would you
have?”
Hearing that, the woodcutter was thoughtful, for, in the manner of those
who see a dream man, everything seemed right and proper. Still, while he
had in his life wished for many things from day to day, when the time
came to make a wish he had none ready. Then his eye fell on his ax and
he said without thinking: “For one thing I wish that my ax was an ax so
that when I cut a stick or anything, I would have two as big as the
first one.”
To be sure, had he given thought he might have seen how foolish a wish
was that, as both cat and fox-face knew. But he spoke as the wind blew.
Then fox-face said some words which the woodcutter did not understand,
and added: “Try now your ax.”
So the man took a stick about the size of a man’s arm and brought down
his ax in the middle of it, and lo, there were two sticks, each the size
of a man’s arm, instead of two pieces each the half of that. The man
looked up, open-mouthed and surprised, to say something, but fox-face
had vanished, for the cat had wakened and so her dream ceased.
But greatly amazed was the man, for, as he soon saw, all his chopping
was of no account, for a tree cut down became at once two trees and one
of those trees cut in halves became two trees again. As for cutting
smaller wood, that, too, soon became impossible, seeing that each stick
grew to two sticks, so that soon he had to cease work because of the
wood all about him. Worse still, as he went to the place where he lived,
there came across his path a poisonous serpent, and forgetting for a
moment the power of his ax he cut the snake in two, and there, hissing
before him, were two snakes. So he fled to his people and told them the
tale, at which they wondered greatly. But to make sure that the ax would
do no mischief, and in truth somewhat fearing it, they hung it in a
tree, and each man told his son the story of it, so that all might come
to know it as a thing best left alone.