II

Now all that talk Nasca remembered well the next day when a strange

thing happened. For the stranger went about among the people, asking

this one and that what he most desired. But there were none to make a

wish for a time, because life there was pleasant and easy and the

possessions of men were few, so all that the stranger said went for

nothing. Then, as it chanced, there came one of the people a little put

out because he had lost sleep that morning. He was a man much given to

rest and slumber, a slow and heavy man, and that morning he had been

awakened by the singing of the birds. To make matters worse, going away

from the place where he had lain, in too great a hurry, he chanced to

scratch himself on some thorns. So, taking it all in all, his humour was

not a pleasant one; yet had it not been for the stranger, he might have

forgotten his troubles. As it was, he heard the stranger’s speech and

the offer to grant any wish, so he spoke without considering his words.

“If you grant wishes, there is one that I would have,” he said, nodding

to his friends in the manner of one who had a matter of weight to tell

of.

“Say it,” said the stranger, and he grinned queerly so that his lip went

up and his tusky teeth shone yellow.

“This morning I was disturbed by birds and scratched by thorns, so I

wish that nothing might come near me to disturb me in the future.”

“As you wish,” said the stranger, and gabbled what seemed to be idle and

meaningless words.

Then a strange thing happened, for as the man who had made the wish

stood looking at the stranger, his mouth wide open, all living things

about him suddenly fell away. Within the stretch of a man’s arm from him

the grass yellowed and died, and the flowers shrank and withered, and a

butterfly that fluttered over him fell to earth, dead. And the people

cried out, seeing that, but soon it became clear that not even sounds

could come within that magic circle. The air bore no noise to the

charmed man, not even the sweet noise of the songs of birds nor the

chirping of insects, and the man was, in very truth, in such case that

nothing could be nigh him to disturb him. Indeed, as he moved, all

things died within the stretch of his arms, seeing which his friends

fled from him, all fearful of his nearness. Afraid of his loneliness the

man walked to a tree, but no sooner did he touch it than the very leaves

folded themselves and turned black, then dropped off and fluttered down,

so that the arms of the good tree stood skeleton-bare against the sky.

At that all hope in the man was gone and he turned and fled into the

forest, a space opening before him as he ran, a track of death

everywhere behind him.

Nasca saw all that, and his grandmother’s fears came to his mind.

Indeed, he told many there of what the old woman had said, but some of

them held that the stranger had but granted the wisher his wish, and if

there was fault in the matter the fault lay with the wisher, not with

the granter of the wish. As for the grandmother, when she heard the tale

she was in great trouble and threw herself on the ground weeping, and

though Nasca did what he could to comfort her, yet she wept and wept.

“Nasca,” she said presently, “surely we must do what we can to rid the

place of this fearful creature. For it is as I thought, and he is a

black-hearted thing, not of this world of men, and one who will

assuredly bring hate and fear and trouble. Find, then, if there is any

means by which he may be made to go away, even to the point of helping

him, if need be, but see to it that you think not of yourself and your

own gain, and see to it that anything that you do at his request will

bring no harm to any living creature, even the smallest.”

All this Nasca promised, and in the early dawn of the next day went up

to the hills to see the sun rise, as indeed did all brave and strong men

and fair maidens in that place. Then he swam a little while, and ate

some fruit and thought a while, and after sought out the stranger.

“Stranger,” said he, “be it known to you that there are many here who

fear your presence among us and who would be glad to see you gone from

here.”

“Ho! Ho! What bold words are these I hear?” roared fox-face, full of

wrath at Nasca’s words.

“I speak but the truth,” said the lad boldly enough, though his heart

beat against his ribs. “Tell me, then, what can be done so that you may

be persuaded to leave us.”

Fox-face thought awhile, then he said: “On a far mountain is a gentle

creature bound with a magic thread which no man’s hand can break. Yet

magic fights magic, and the magic ax can sever the thread. Also, at the

moment the thread is cut, so will the man who is prisoned in air be

free, but not before. Now the bound creature is my companion and no

fierce thing at all. Come with me, Nasca, bringing the magic ax, and

when you have seen the cat, then perchance shall the spell be broken.”

All of that seeming fair to Nasca, he went to the tree where hung the

magic ax, though he had much ado to climb through the tangle all about

the tree, for no man had been there for many a year. He took the ax and

fastened it well in his sash, and returned to the side of the stranger.

Then fox-face took a mat made of feathers of the night owl and the hair

of the skunk, and spread it on the ground, but it was so small that

there was scarce place for Nasca and the man too, so the lad cut it with

the magic ax and there were two mats, which was more to Nasca’s taste,

for he had no liking to stand on the mat and hold on to fox-face. No

sooner had they taken their places on the mats than they rose in the

air, and in a swift moment both of them were so high that the country

lay spread at their feet with trees like grass and with rivers that

looked like silver threads. Nor could the swiftest condor move with the

speed with which they flew through the air. So at last they came to a

place where everywhere were bare rocks and hard stone, with no blade of

grass to be seen, and it was a place among mountain peaks, with stony

ridge rising above stony ridge, and on a mountain peak the two rested.

“Now look away to the far hill,” said the stranger, and while the place

to which he pointed was very far off, yet because of the clearness of

the air it seemed but a short distance away. Looking steadily Nasca saw

the three great rocks, for they were tremendously grown now, after so

many hundreds of years, but to Nasca they seemed no higher than a man’s

knee, and sitting under them was the cat.

“That is the companion I seek,” said fox-face. “By magic she is bound

and by magic only can she be loosed, and I promise you that if you will

but loose her I shall be seen no more in your land.”

“Fair enough,” said Nasca. “But I must be assured of a return to my own

place, for it is far from home on these hills.”

“That is well enough,” answered fox-face. “Have you not your flying mat?

Though to be sure, as soon as you take your foot from it it will

vanish.”

Nasca thought for a little while, and the more he thought the more it

seemed to him to be a good thing and not an evil to loose the cat, so he

asked the stranger to show him the bond that held her. At that fox-face

pointed, and there almost at his feet Nasca beheld a slender thread,

like a hair, that ran this way and that as far as the eye could see. So

with a blow of the magic ax he cut the thread, and there was a noise

like thunder and the thread ends slid away like swift snakes. Nor did

the stranger play Nasca false, for in a flash he found himself back

again at the foot of the tree where the magic ax had hung, and so

swiftly had the journey been made that a man who had stooped to fill his

calabash at a pool when Nasca left, was even then straightening himself

to go away, his calabash being filled. As for the fox-faced stranger, no

one ever saw him again, for the cat being awakened, her dream had ended.

And at the moment when the thread was cut, the man who had been bound in

air came back again, his enchantment finished, and the things that had

died about him, because of invisible forces, sprang to life again.

But what of the cat? For Nasca little thought that he had loosed a

fearful thing on the world, a frightful form of giant mould of a size

bigger than a bull. Nor did he know until one evening, as he sat by the

fire, it being chill in that high place at times, he turned his head as

the robe that hung at the door bulged into the house. He looked to see

his grandmother, but instead a great cat filled the doorway, a cat with

green eyes, each the size of an egg. Indeed so great was the cat that it

had to crouch low to enter. And when within, the room was filled with

it, a sight that made the heart of Nasca stand still. A gloomy terror it

was, and most fiendish was the look that it gave the lad. But Nasca,

though terror-stricken, yet showed no sign of fear. Instead, he made

room for the cat by the fire as though he saw cats like that every day.

So the cat sat by the fire and close to Nasca, sometimes looking at the

blaze without winking, sometimes turning its great head to look for long

and long at the boy. Once Nasca stood up, saying that he would go

outside and bring in more wood for the fire, privately thinking to get

out of the place in safety, but the great paw of the cat shot out with

claws that looked like reaping hooks, whereupon Nasca sat down again

saying that, after all, the fire would live awhile. But he thought and

thought and the cat looked and looked, and the place was as still and

quiet as a midnight pool.

Presently Nasca found heart to say something.

“If you want to stay here and rest,” he said to the cat, “I shall go

away.”

“You must not go away,” said the cat in a soft voice, stretching out one

of her paws with the cruel claws showing a little.

After that a long time passed and the fire flamed only a little, and the

shadow of the cat was big and black on the wall, and Nasca thought and

thought and the cat looked and looked. Then the firelight danced and the

big black shadow seemed to leap and then grow small, and the cat’s eyes

were full of a cold fire as they rested on Nasca.

Then suddenly Nasca broke into a laugh, though, to be sure, the laugh

did not come from his heart.

“Why do you laugh?” said the cat.

“Because you are so big and I am so little, but for all that I can run

ten times faster than you,” answered Nasca, and his words sounded bold

enough. He added: “All living creatures would agree in that.”

“That is nonsense,” said the cat, her jealousy at once aroused. “I am

the fastest creature on earth. I can leap over mountains and I take

rivers at a step.”

“It does not matter what you can do,” said Nasca, growing bolder every

second. “Let me tell you this: While a man stooped to fill his calabash,

I went from this place to a far mountain, cut the thread that bound you,

and returned before the man with the calabash had straightened himself,

and if you do not believe it, I will bring the man.”

Nasca said all this with some idea of getting an excuse to go from

there, but the words struck deep and the cat wondered.

“Why did you loose me?” asked the cat.

“Because I wanted to run a race with you,” answered Nasca.

“If we run a race it must be for a wager,” said the cat. “If you lose I

make a meal of you. Is it agreed?”

“Fairly spoken,” said Nasca, “though to be sure if you lose I make no

meal of you.”

“Let us run to-morrow then,” said Nasca. “And I shall sleep well under

the tree and be fresh in the morning.”

“Not so,” said the cat. “If we run, we run at midnight and under the

cold white moon.”

“So be it,” answered Nasca. “Where shall we run?”

“Across the mountains and back again, seven times,” said the cat,

choosing the highlands, because she knew that she could leap over hills

and cañons, while Nasca would have to climb up and down, and choosing

night because she could see better in the dark than Nasca. For the cat

was very wise. But Nasca on his part thought of little more than getting

away from the cat for a while. So he told the cat that he would bring a

basket of fish for her supper, which he did, and while the cat ate he

went outside and sought his grandmother.

The wise old woman laughed when she heard the story. “To a cat her

cattishness,” she said, “but to a woman her wit. All falls out well

enough. Haste, run and bring me the magic ax.”

“But no,” said Nasca. “To use that would but make two terrible cats, and

one is more than enough.”

“Heed me, Nasca, and bring the ax,” she repeated.

At that the boy ran swiftly and brought the ax.

“Now stand, Nasca, and fear not,” said the old woman, and lifted the ax.

So the lad stood, closing his eyes when he saw her raise the ax to

strike.

Then with a swift blow she brought the weapon down on Nasca’s head,

cutting him in two, and in a moment there stood before her two Nascas,

each as like the other as one blade of grass is like another. Surely and

well had the ax done its work. One Nasca was as shapely as the other,

one as fair-skinned as the other.

“Now,” said the old woman, “happy was I with one Nasca, so doubly happy

shall I be with two. So stay you here, Nasca the first, and Nasca the

second must come with me. Oh, a merry world and a glad will it be now,

since joy and gladness are doubled.”

At that she remembered that she had told neither lad anything, in her

delight, so she turned again to the first Nasca.

“Wait here for the great cat,” she said. “Go with her to the great cañon

where the race must start, and when the cat makes to leap across, which

she will do, do you climb down a little way, then hide yourself until

the cat returns. Doubtless we shall be able to manage matters at the

other end. But see to it that you chide the cat for her slowness when

she returns after the first run, and we shall see what we shall see.”

Having said that, the old woman set off with Nasca the second, walking

bravely over the ridges and hills that rose one behind the other like

the waves of the sea. And when they had come to a far place where the

mountain dropped down like a great stone wall to a fearful depth, they

sat them down to wait, Nasca the second being in plain sight, the old

woman hiding behind a rock.

But as soon as the moon rose the great cat walked to where Nasca the

first stood, her eyes glaring terribly and her hair all a-bristle. So

horrible a sight was she that for a moment Nasca went deadly pale, but

he spoke boldly enough, nevertheless, for the brave one is not he that

does not fear, but rather he that fears and yet does the thing that he

has set out to do.

“One thing,” said Nasca to the cat. “Is it right that you should leap

over the cañon, going from one side to the other like a bird, while I

must climb down and then up again? Let us make things fairer in the

race, and do you climb down and up the other side with me.” But all this

he said in a kind of spirit of mischief, knowing full well that the cat

would give him no chance at all.

“Ha! What is to do now?” said the cat with a hiss and a sneer. “Does

your heart fail you already? Are you terror-tormented at the start? A

fine racer, you, indeed! No, no, my fine lad. We race for a supper and

you must supply the meal.”

To that Nasca answered nothing, so there was a little silence, broken

only by the hooting of the owl who was, indeed, trying to tell the cat

the truth of matters. But the cat was too full of her own notions and

had no ear for others. She lay crouched on the ground, ready to make a

spring, and Nasca wondered whether her jump would be at him or across

the cañon. Suddenly, in a voice like thunder, the cat called: “START!”

and at the word, leaped across the valley and was off and away, without

as much as giving a glance at the lad. But he made a great deal of fuss

on his part, climbing down the face of the cañon wall. The cat, on

landing on the other side, looked back, then gave a cry of triumph,

seeing the poor start that Nasca had made. “Come on! Come on!” she

called. “The run will sharpen my appetite,” and even as she said that,

she was a distance off, then bounding away up hill and down hill, over

the ridges, over the rocks, over the streams, taking a hundred yards at

a bound. So in a very short space of time she came to the place where

Nasca the second stood, and was mightily astonished to see her opponent,

as she thought, there before her.

“Too easy, señora cat, too easy,” said Nasca the second, speaking as the

grandmother bade him. “I thought cats were swifter. Doubtless you play,

though.”

Hearing that speech the cat was full of anger and in a voice that shook

the mountains, she roared: “BACK! BACK AGAIN! I’ll show you.”

Off ran Nasca the second then, but the cat passed him like lightning,

her very whiskers streaming behind, and as soon as she was over the

first hill the lad went back to the place where his grandmother was.

Señora cat knew nothing of that, though, and went bounding as before,

tearing up hill and down hill, over the ridges, over the rocks, over the

streams, taking two hundred yards at a leap, and at last came to the

place of beginning, to behold Nasca, who stood smiling and wiping his

brow lightly, as if he had been running.

“Much better, señora cat,” he said. “You almost caught me that time. A

little faster and you would have won. But still I have more speed in me

to let loose. Come on.”

No sooner were the words out of his mouth than he started off, making as

though to climb down the cañon wall, and the cat gave a screech that

shook the very skies and made the pale moon quiver. So fast she went

that the very trees and bushes that she passed were scorched, and as for

the rocks over which she flew, they were melted by the heat of the air.

Every leap that she took was four hundred yards. Up hill and down hill

she went, over the ridges, over the rocks, over the streams, and so at

last she came once more to where the second Nasca stood.

“A good run that, señora cat,” he said. “I think that we shall finish

the race soon and in a way that I may live and be happy, though for me

you must go supperless. Certainly I must try, for to lose will profit me

nothing.”

But the cat was at her wits’ end, supposing that Nasca ran faster than

she. She opened her mouth to shriek, but fast upon her came a great

feebleness, and she faltered and reeled and then fell down in a faint,

seeing nothing at all. No time then did the second Nasca and the old

woman lose. Putting themselves to the task, they rolled the cat to the

edge of the great rock wall that ran down straight. Then after a pause

to gain breath they gave another push, and the body of the giant cat

fell over the edge and was broken to pieces on the sharp rocks below. So

that was the end of the cat and the end of her dreams.

The two Nascas and the old woman went to their own place and told the

people all that had happened, so there was great rejoicing, and laughter

and song and weaving of garlands, and everybody was happy. And ever

since there has been kindness and good fellowship in that land. And for

those who would see signs of the tale there stand the three great rocks

on the highlands, each so heavy that two hundred men could not lift

them, and wise men wonder much what manner of men put them there. But

only those who are not wise and learned know the truth of the matter, as

you may test for yourself by asking any very wise men who come to visit

you.

THE END

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