pursued it in the direction of the big woods beyond the creek. For a
long time the little boy listened to the dogs running. Sometimes they
seemed to come nearer, and then they would go farther, and finally the
sound of their trailing died away altogether.
"After waiting and listening for some time, the little boy went into
the woods and sat at the foot of the chestnut-tree. While he was
sitting there thinking, and watching the big black ants chase each
other up and down the tree, he heard the bushes shake, and suddenly a
little old man appeared before him.
"'Heyday!' said the little old man. 'You are too young to be thinking.
Leave thoughts for old people; you should be at play.'
"'But sometimes,' replied the little boy, 'children have to think,
too. It doesn't make my head ache to think.'
"'I see, I see!' exclaimed the little old man; 'your name is Three
Wits. Three Wits, how are you? I hope you are well. You ought to have
come here a little sooner. There is a famous hunt going on in these
woods. It passed here awhile ago--a fool on a frightened horse and
seven crazy dogs galloping after Satan's sister. Oh, it is jolly! Stay
where you are, Three Wits. This famous hunt will pass this way again
directly, and you will have a plain view of it.'
"After a while the little boy heard the dogs coming, and presently he
saw the strangest sight his eyes had ever beheld. Going through the
woods as swift as the wind, he saw a great white Stag. On the back of
the Stag, and holding to its antlers, was an old woman. She was
grinning horribly, and her gray hair was streaming out behind her like
a ragged banner. The Stag, bearing the old woman, rushed through the
woods and disappeared. Then came the dogs in full cry, and after the
dogs came the little boy's father, spurring his horse and yelling in
the excitement of the chase.
"'What do you think of it, Three Wits?' asked the little old man,
laughing.
"'I don't like it,' replied the boy. 'That man is my father.'
"'Your father!' cried the little old man. 'Oho! That alters the case.
Well, well! Let's see--let's see!'
"The little old man took from the wallet he had on his back a thick
book with a red cover. Then he sat at the foot of the chestnut-tree
and turned the well-thumbed leaves until he found the place he was
hunting for. He closed the book, but kept his forefinger between the
leaves, and took the little boy's hand in his."
[Illustration: THE LITTLE OLD MAN, THREE WITS, AND THE STAG]
XVI.
THE THREE IVORY BOBBINS.
"The little old man took the boy's hand in his, but before he could
say anything, a rustling was heard in the bushes. Presently, Old Top,
the deerhound, made his appearance. He went up to the boy, smelt of
him, wagged his tail as a sign of satisfaction, and then curled up in
the leaves as if to take a nap. But he didn't go to sleep. Every once
in awhile, Old Top raised his head and listened wistfully to the
running dogs that could be heard in the distance.
"'A very sensible dog!' exclaimed the little old man. 'He knows
something is wrong.'
"'What is it?' asked the boy.
"'Well, Three Wits,' said the little old man, 'I'll tell you. The man,
the horse, and the dogs, are under a spell. They are bewitched, and
they will continue to be bewitched until doomsday, unless the spell is
broken. They will go round and round on the trail until they exhaust
themselves, and then they will gradually grow thinner and thinner
until they disappear; and then nothing will be heard but the barking
of the dogs, and the sound of that will grow fainter and fainter,
until no human ear can hear it. Now, the question is, Three Wits, do
you wish the spell broken?'
"'I do,' replied the boy, 'for my mother's sake.'
"'Now that is well spoken,' said the old man, rising and laying his
hand gently on the boy's head. 'For, behold, Three Wits, what is
written in the book.'
"The old man opened the red volume and read as follows, pointing to
each word with his finger:--
"'Whoever shall, for the sake of his mother, earnestly desire to break
the spells worked by Paggia Paggiola, the Hunting-Witch, is in a way
to have his desire fulfilled. For this is the indispensable condition.
Moreover, he who hopes to succeed must have the innocence of youth and
the courage of manhood. On his left arm there should grow a mole, and
in this mole are three white hairs.'
"'I have the mole,' said the boy, opening his vest.
"Sure enough, there was the mole, and on the mole were growing three
long white hairs as fine as silk. With a pair of silver tweezers that
he found in his wallet, the little old man pulled the long white hairs
from the mole. One by one he pulled them. One by one he ran them
through his fingers, and one by one they seemed to grow longer and
stronger, each time they were pulled through the little old man's
swift-moving fingers.
"Then, searching in his wallet, he found three ivory bobbins; and on
these he wound the long, strong, and silken hairs. He wound and wound,
and as he wound he sang:--
"'Now on this bobbin I wind a hair,
White, and silken, and long;
I wind it slow, I wind it fair,
Glossy, and white, and strong.
"'I wind it here in shade and sun,
For one, one, one are three--
Three and no more where the stag shall run,
Close by the chestnut-tree.
"'And one shall catch, and two shall hold,
And three shall clamp and kill;
Just say to your hand, Be steady and bold;
And say to your heart, I will.'
"The boy was surprised to see, as the old man sang and wound, that the
white hairs spun out into silver wires hundreds of feet long, and
stronger than steel.
"'Take these, Three Wits,' said the old man, after he had finished
winding the bobbins. 'Take these, and when the hunt runs this way
again, fling one at the Stag, and one at the dogs, and one at the
horse the huntsman rides. You must fling them quickly, one after the
other. It is easy enough to miss the Stag, but you must not fail to
catch the dogs. You may fail on the Stag and horse, but you must not
fail on the dogs. Be strong. Brace yourself for three quick and hard
throws.'
"Then they stood there listening; and presently Old Top, the
deerhound, raised his head and whistled through his nose, the whistle
ending in a whine.
"'They are coming now, Three Wits!' exclaimed the little old man. 'Get
ready! Throw quick and hard! Don't be afraid!'
"In the distance, the baying of the dogs could be heard, and Old Top
rose and shook himself and growled. In another moment the Stag, ridden
by the grinning old woman, flitted past; but, quick as a flash, Three
Wits threw the first bobbin, and he threw it so hard that it made a
zooning sound in the air. The Stag made one tremendous bound and
disappeared. The dogs came next, and Three Wits threw the second
bobbin. It zooned through the air, and the silver wire unwound with a
twanging sound, and fell full upon the panting and baying pack. It
fell upon them, and wound itself about them, and smothered their
cries, and held them fast in its glistening meshes.
"Then came the rushing horse and its furious rider. Three Wits threw
the third bobbin, but the horse shied at the motion of the boy's hand,
and flew through the woods in the direction taken by the Stag. When
Three Wits saw both the Stag and the horse escape, he fell upon the
ground and began to weep.
"'Hity-tity!' exclaimed the little old man, coming from behind the
tree where he had concealed himself. 'What's this? Why, I was about to
cry "Bravo!" and here I find you pretending to be a baby. Get up. If
I am not mistaken you have accomplished even more than I expected you
would. Let's see.'
"He lifted Three Wits to his feet, and then the two went to where the
hunt had passed. At one point the dogs were entangled in the silver
wire, and were unable to free themselves. A little farther in, they
found a thick wisp of gray hair which the wire had cut from the head
of the grinning old woman who rode the Stag. The little old man
clapped his hands with delight and cut some joyful capers, for he was
very nimble.
"'Good!' he exclaimed. 'Another half inch and you would have cut off
her head instead of her hair! But where is the bobbin? I don't see the
bobbin! We must have the bobbin!'
"Three Wits hunted, but he could find no bobbin. Then he caught hold
of the wire, and found that it led into the woods the way the Stag had
gone. He caught hold of it and followed it along, calling to the
little old man. They followed the silver wire far into the woods, and
finally they came to the end of it, and there was the Stag, strangled
and dead. The weight of the bobbin had carried the wire around his
body and around his neck, and the bobbin itself had caught in the
fork of one of his antlers.
[Illustration: THE STAG AND THE WITCH]
"The little old man seemed to be very happy. He patted Three Wits on
the shoulder, and declared that he was a good boy, a fine boy. 'But
there is more to be done,' said the little old man,--'a great deal
more. And you will have to go alone. I can help you, but I can't be
with you.'
"Then he found the ivory bobbins, rewound the silver wire, which
seemed to spin out still longer, and gave them to Three Wits. 'Take
these,' he said, 'and go to the witch's house.'
"'Do you mean Peggy Pig-Eye's house?' asked Three Wits.
"'Why, of course.' replied the little old man. 'Her right name, as you
saw by the book, is Paggia Paggiola, but people call her Peggy Pig-Eye
for short. Go to her house, throw one of the bobbins over the roof,
and then throw one around each end. Throw quick and hard, and, as you
throw, cry out,--
"'Bibbity bobbity bobbin,
Go hibbity hob hobnobbin.'
"'But wait!' cried the little old man. 'You may need these dogs.' He
took a wisp of the witch's hair, and whipped them back to life. And
maybe you'll need a horse to ride. So he went into the woods where the
Stag lay dead, and whipped him to his feet with the witch's hair.
"'This is your horse,' he said to Three Wits. But the boy was afraid
to mount the Stag. 'Be bold!' cried the little old man; 'all depends
on that! Give me your foot. There you are! Loop the silver wire over
his horns, and touch him with the bobbin the way you want him to go.
He'll carry you safely. Good-by! Be bold!'
"Following the little old man's directions, Three Wits was soon
cantering down the road on the Stag's back. The dogs seemed to take
everything for granted, and followed along after the Stag as readily
as if he had been their master's horse. But travelers who chanced to
be going along the road went into the wood when they saw a boy riding
a big Stag. They were not used to such a queer sight.
"The spirits of Three Wits rose as he went along. Everything had
turned out so happily, and the Stag moved along so gracefully and
easily that Three Wits felt quite like a hero.
"He went ambling along the road, the people staring at him, until he
came to the witch's house. Everything was quiet there. The windows and
doors were closed, and the only sign of life about the place was a big
black cat that sat on the water-shelf. Three Wits rode the Stag around
the house three times. Then over the roof he threw a bobbin. To the
right he threw another, and to the left another. The silver wire
seemed to whirl until it became a tangle of wire all over the house.
The big black cat made an attempt to escape, but it was caught in the
wire as a fly is caught in a spider's web, and it hung helpless by the
water-shelf.
"And then a very wonderful thing happened. The silver wire seemed to
become so heavy that the roof of the house couldn't bear its weight.
The cabin swayed, and finally the roof fell in with a crash. Out of
the dust and wreck walked the father of Three Wits, leading his horse,
and, following him, came a dozen or more elegantly dressed gentlemen
whom Three Wits had never seen before. They shook hands with the boy
and thanked him for coming to their rescue, and each gave him a large
sum of gold, so that when they started on their way home, Three Wits
found that he was very rich. As for the father, he seized Three Wits
in his arms and embraced him again and again, and declared that even a
king might be proud to have such a brave son.
"While they were talking, the little old man came out of the wood. He
went straight to Three Wits, placed his hand on the boy's head, and
seemed to be blessing him. Then he lifted Three Wits from the Stag's
back, mounted in his place, waved his hand twice, and, in a twinkling,
had disappeared in the wood. That was the end of the witch, and this
is the end of the story."
"Well, I think it is a very good story," said Buster John.
"I think so, too," remarked Sweetest Susan; "but I'm sorry there was
no little girl in it."
XVII.
"KEEN-POINT," "COB-HANDLE," AND "BUTCH."
"The three bobbins," said Mrs. Meadows, "remind me of a
circumstance--"
"Is a circumstance a story?" interrupted Sweetest Susan.
"Oh, you mustn't mind my country talk," replied Mrs. Meadows,
laughing. "It was a trick of my tongue. I didn't want to say 'story'
because you might be disappointed. But I reckon I may as well call it
a story. Well, as I was saying, the three bobbins remind me of a story
that was partly about a little girl."
"I know it must be a nice story," cried Sweetest Susan
enthusiastically.
But Mrs. Meadows shook her head. "From all I can hear," she said,
"matters and things in general are a great deal nicer in books than
they are outside of books. Folks are folks, anyway you can fix them, I
don't care what the books say. But I'll not deny that in my day and
time I have seen folks mighty near as nice and as pretty as those you
read about in the books, and one of these was the little girl I am
going to tell you about.
"Once upon a time, in the country where I then lived,--and I've lived
in a good many countries, for wherever you find mountains, hills, and
rivers, there you'll find the Meadows family,--there was a little girl
who was both beautiful and good. She was not as good nor as beautiful
as those you read about in the books, but she was good enough for the
people who knew her. For a wonder she didn't have long golden hair.
Her hair was black, and curled about her head in the loveliest way;
and her eyes were large and brown, and her skin creamy white, with
just the shadow of rose color in her face. Her parents were rich and
proud, but they were prouder of their little girl than they were of
their money, as well they might be, seeing that she was the smartest
and most beautiful child to be found in all the country round."
"Were there no princes and castles in that country?" inquired Sweetest
Susan.
"Oh, dear, no!" replied Mrs. Meadows. "The folks were just plain,
common, every-day people. Those that were fortunate enough to be
honest and contented were much better off than any princes you ever
heard of; and a hut where happiness lives is a much finer place than
the finest castle.
"Well, as I was telling you, the parents of this little girl with
black curly hair were very proud of her. They watched over her very
carefully, and neglected nothing that would make her happy and
contented. Some little girls that I have known would have been spoiled
by so much kindness and attention, but this little girl with the black
curly hair wasn't spoiled at all. She was as good as she was
beautiful.
"One day, when this little girl was walking in the flower garden, she
heard the gardener talking to his wife through the iron fence. The
woman's voice was so pleasant and her laugh so cheerful that the
little girl ran to the fence and peeped through to see who it was. The
gardener's wife saw her, and at once began to pet her and make much of
her. The little girl wanted the woman to come into the garden, and
seemed to be so much in earnest about it that the woman promised she
would come and be the child's nurse some day.
"No sooner had the gardener's wife gone about her business than the
little girl ran and told her mother that she must have a nurse. At
first her mother paid little attention to her, thinking that it was
the passing whim of a child, but the little girl insisted, until
finally her mother said:--
"'Who shall be your nurse? You know, my dear, that you can't have
everybody and anybody?'
"'Ask the gardener,' the little girl replied. 'He knows.'
"'And how does he know?' the mother asked.
"'I saw him talking with her,' the little girl replied.
"So, after a time, the gardener was called, and then it was found that
his wife was the person the little girl had selected to be her nurse.
The father and mother hesitated for some time before they would
consent to send for the woman, but finally she came, and they were so
much struck by her pleasant manners and cheerful disposition that they
were quite willing to employ her.
"For a long time after that the little girl and her nurse were never
separated except when the nurse would go home to see her husband and
her son, who was a handsome boy about fourteen years old. The little
girl used to grieve so when her nurse left her that on one occasion,
when the woman was going home for only an hour or so, she carried the
child with her. There the little girl saw the handsome son of her
nurse, and they were both very much pleased with each other. In the
little time she stayed, the boy showed her a hundred new games, and
told her a great many stories she had never heard before."
"How old was the little girl?" Mr. Thimblefinger inquired.
"Between seven and eight," replied Mrs. Meadows "Just old enough to be
cute. Well, in the little time they were together the boy and girl
grew to be very fond of each other. The boy thought she was the
daintiest and prettiest creature he had ever seen, and the little girl
thought the boy was all that a boy should be.
"Of course, when the little girl went back home again she talked of
nothing else but the boy who had proved to be such a wonderful
playmate. This set the child's mother to thinking, and she made up her
mind that it wouldn't do for these children to see so much of each
other. So she sent for the nurse and told her very kindly that she
didn't think it would be prudent to carry the little girl to her house
any more.
"The nurse agreed with the little girl's mother, but somehow she
didn't relish the idea that her brave and handsome son wasn't good
enough to play with anybody's daughter. She thought the matter over
for several days, and finally decided that it would be better to give
up her place as nurse. She was very fond of the little girl, but she
was still fonder of her boy. So she ceased to be the child's nurse,
and went to her own home.
"The little girl grieved day and night for her kind nurse. Nothing
would console her. Her mother bought her a little pony, but she
wouldn't ride it; wonderful dolls, but she wouldn't look at them; the
finest cakes and candies, but she wouldn't eat them; the most
beautiful dresses, but she wouldn't wear them. Matters went on in this
way for I don't know how long, until, finally, one day the little
girl's mother concluded to send for the nurse.
"Now it happened that on that particular day the little girl had made
up her mind to go after her nurse. One day in each week, the gardener
would open the big gates of the park in order to trundle away the
trash and weeds that he had raked up. The little girl watched him open
the gate, and then, when the gardener went for his wheelbarrow, she
slipped out at the gate and went running across the fields.
"For a time the little girl was perfectly happy. She gave herself up
to the pleasure of being alone, of being able to do as she chose, with
no one to tell her not to do this or do that, or to say 'come here,'
or 'go yonder.' So she went running across the fields, looking at the
birds, and trying to catch butterflies, and singing to herself some of
the beautiful songs that her nurse's son had taught her.
"Now it happened that when she ran out of the garden gate, in her
haste to keep out of sight of the gardener, she went away from her
nurse's house instead of going towards it. She had been kept so
closely at home that she had no idea of the great world beyond the
garden gate. She thought that all she had to do to get to her dear
nurse's house was to go out at the gate and keep on going until she
came to the place where there were two big trees, with a swing
between them, and a little white house on the other side.
"So she went on her way, singing and skipping. When she grew tired she
sat down to rest. When she grew thirsty she drank of the clear, cold
water that ran through the fields. When she became hungry, she ate the
berries that grew along the way. She was perfectly satisfied that she
would soon come to her nurse's house. But the sun doesn't stop for
grown people, much less for children, and the little girl soon found
that night was coming on. The only thought she had was that her
nurse's house had been moved farther away, and that by going straight
ahead she would find it after a while.
"So she trudged along. When the sun was nearly down she saw an old man
sitting in the shade of a tree. The little girl went straight towards
him, made him a curtsey, as she had been taught to do, and said:--
"'Please, sir, where is my nurse's house?'
"The old man raised his head and glanced all around. 'I see no nurse's
house,' he replied.
"Then, after a little while the old man said: 'My dear, give me a
drink of water.'
[Illustration: THE LITTLE GIRL AND THE OLD MAN]
"The little girl looked all around. 'I see no water,' she replied.
"'Well said, well said!' exclaimed the old man. 'You are very bright
and very beautiful, therefore I'll give you some advice. There is a
spring by yonder tree, but you must not drink the water. There is a
pomegranate-tree growing by the spring, but you must eat none of the
fruit.'
"Having said this, the old man slung his wallet over his back and went
on his way. The little girl went to the spring and looked at the
water. Then she looked at the beautiful red fruit growing on the
pomegranate-tree. She was very thirsty, very hungry, and very tired.
She thought to herself that the old man was very mean and stingy.
'He's afraid I'll muddy the water,' she said, 'and he wants all the
pomegranates for himself.'
"Then she drank from the spring, and the water was very sweet and
cool. She ate the fruit of the pomegranate-tree, and it was delicious.
Then being tired, she stretched herself out on the grass and was soon
sound asleep.
"Now it so happened," continued Mrs. Meadows, pretending to examine
the stitches in Sweetest Susan's frock "that the spring and the
pomegranate-tree were under a spell. They belonged to an old Conjurer
who lived in a cave close by. In this cave he had a large bowl of
water on a shelf, and near it, growing in a box, was a little
pomegranate-bush. Whenever anybody drank from the spring, the water in
the bowl would shake and tremble and become muddy; and whenever a
pomegranate was pulled from the big bush by the spring, the little
bush in the Conjurer's cave would bend and wave its limbs as if a gale
were blowing.
"All this occurred when the little girl drank from the spring and
pulled and ate one of the pomegranates; and by the time she was sound
asleep, the Conjurer had come out of his cave and discovered her. He
waited a little while, and then took the child and carried her to his
cave, and it was many a long day before anybody, except the Conjurer
himself, saw her again."
At this point Mrs. Meadows paused.
XVIII.
MRS. MEADOWS RESUMES HER STORY.
The pause was occasioned by Mr. Rabbit. He had fallen into a doze
while Mrs. Meadows was telling her story, and just as she came to the
point where the Conjurer had lifted the little girl in his arms and
carried her into his cave, Mr. Rabbit had dreamed that he was falling.
His chair was tilted back a little, and he made such a mighty effort
to keep himself from falling in his dream that he lost his balance and
went over sure enough.
"I declare!" he exclaimed. "I ought to be ashamed of myself to be
falling heels over head this way without any reason in the world, and
right before company too. Wasn't there something in your story about
falling?"
"Not a word!" replied Mrs. Meadows firmly.
"Well, well, well!" exclaimed Mr. Rabbit. "I'll try and keep my eyes
open hereafter."
The children tried their best to keep from laughing at Mr. Rabbit's
predicament, but Drusilla was finally compelled to give way to her
desire, and then they all joined in, even Mr. Rabbit smiling somewhat
grimly.
"Let me see," said Mrs. Meadows, after a while; "the last we heard of
the little girl I was telling you about, the Conjurer had carried her
into his cave?"
"Yes," answered Sweetest Susan; "and now I want to know what became of
her."