it is you who have cost us our sleep! Well, well, I dare say I should
have done the same myself, for cakes and sweets are certainly nicer than
corn and hay." And the donkey brayed in answer, and winked an eye at
him, and, more amused than before, the man went away to tell his
brother.
Of course it was not long before the story reached the ears of their
master, who instantly sent to buy the donkey, and bade one of his
servants, who had a taste for such things, teach him fresh tricks. This
the man was ready enough to do, for the fame of this wonderful creature
soon spread far and wide, and the citizens of the town thronged the
doors of his stable. And while the servant reaped much gold by making
the ass display his accomplishments, the master gained many friends
among the people, and was soon made chief ruler.
For five years Apuleius stayed in the house of Thyasus, and ate as many
sweet cakes as he chose; and if he wanted more than were given him he
wandered down to the tent of his old masters, and swept the shelves bare
as of yore. At the end of the five years Thyasus proclaimed that a great
feast would be held in his garden, after which plays would be acted, and
in one of them his donkey should appear.
Now, though Apuleius loved eating and drinking, he was not at all fond
of doing tricks in public, and as the day drew near he grew more and
more resolved that he would take no part in the entertainment. So one
warm moonlight night he stole out of his stable, and galloped as fast as
he could for ten miles, when he reached the sea. He was hot and tired
with his long run, and the sea looked cool and pleasant.
"It is years since I have had a bath," thought he, "or wetted anything
but my feet. I will take one now; it will make me feel like a man
again"; and into the water he went, and splashed about with
joy, which would much have surprised any one who had seen him, for asses
do not in general care about washing.
When he came back to dry land once more, he shook himself all over, and
held his head first on one side and then on the other, so that the water
might run out of his long ears. After that he felt quite comfortable,
and lay down to sleep under a tree.
He was awakened some hours later by the sound of voices singing a hymn,
and, raising his head, he saw a vast crowd of people trooping down to
the shore to hold the festival of their goddess, and in their midst
walked the high priest crowned with a wreath of roses.
At this sight hope was born afresh in the heart of Apuleius. It was long
indeed since he had beheld any roses, for Thyasus fancied they made him
ill, and would not suffer any one to grow them in the city. So he drew
near to the priest as he passed by, and gazed at him so wistfully that,
moved by some sudden impulse, the pontiff lifted the wreath from his
head, and held it out to him, while the people drew to one side,
feeling that something was happening which they did not understand.
Scarcely had Apuleius swallowed one of the roses, when the ass's skin
fell from him, his back straightened itself, and his face once more
became fair and rosy. Then he turned and joined in the hymn, and there
was not a man among them all with a sweeter voice or more thankful
spirit than that of Apuleius.
[Illustration: HOW ALEXANDER THE KING GOT THE WATER OF LIFE]
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 15: Reprinted by permission from _The Red Book of Romance_.
Edited by Andrew Lang. Longmans, Green & Company.]
HOW ALEXANDER THE KING GOT THE WATER OF LIFE[16]
This story is part of a longer one called "Alexander the Son of Philip."
Alexander, a little bootblack living in modern Athens, is befriended by
a blind old schoolmaster, Kyr Themistocli, to whom he promises to come
each day and read the daily newspaper. For this service the little
"Aleko" is to be helped with his lessons. By way of getting acquainted
the old man asks, "Tell me, now, what do they call you?"
"They call me Aleko."
"From where?"
"My mother lives in Megaloupolis, and I was born there and the little
ones, but my father was not from there."
Kyr Themistocli noticed the past tense.
"He is dead, your father?"
"Yes, it is two years ago that he died."
"And from where was he?"
"From Siatista."
"Ah, a Macedonian! And what was his name?"
"Philippos Vasiliou."
"So your name is Alexandros Vasiliou?"
Aleko nodded.
"Alexander of the King! Alexander the son of Philip! Your master has
taught you about him at school?"
"Of course," said Aleko, frowning.
The old man smiled. There is a story about him which you have not
heard perhaps. Do you know how _Alexander the King got the Water of
Life?_"
Aleko shook his head: "We have not reached such a part."
"Well, I will tell you about it. Listen:--
"WHEN Alexander the King had conquered all the Kingdoms of the world,
and when all the universe trembled at his glance, he called before him
the most celebrated magicians of those days and said to them:
"'Ye who are wise, and who know all that is written in the Book of Fate,
tell me what I must do to live for many years and to enjoy this world
which I have made mine?'
"'O King!' said the magicians, 'great is thy power! But what is written
in the Book of Fate is written, and no one in Heaven or on Earth can
efface it. There is one thing only, that can make thee enjoy thy kingdom
and thy glory beyond the lives of men; that can make thee endure as long
as the hills, but it is very hard to accomplish.'
"'I did not ask ye,' said the great King Alexander, 'whether it be hard,
I asked only what it was.'
"'O King, we are at thy feet to command! Know then that he alone who
drinks of the Water of Life need not fear death. But he who seeks this
water, must pass through two mountains which open and close constantly,
and scarce a bird on the wing can fly between them and not be crushed to
death. The bones lie in high piles, of the king's sons who have lost
their lives in this terrible trap. But if thou shouldst pass safely
through the closing mountains, even then thou wilt find beyond them a
sleepless dragon who guards the Water of Life. Him also must thou slay
before thou canst take the priceless treasure.'
"Then Alexander the King smiled, and ordered his slaves to bring forth
his horse Bucephalus, who had no wings yet flew like a bird. The king
mounted on his back and the good horse neighed for joy. With one
triumphant bound he was through the closing mountains so swiftly that
only three hairs of his flowing tail were caught in between the giant
rocks when they closed. Then Alexander the King slew the sleepless
dragon, filled his vial with the Water of Life, and returned.
"But when he reached his palace, so weary was he that he fell into a
deep sleep and left the Water of Life unguarded. And it so happened that
his sister, not knowing the value of the water, threw it away. And some
of the water fell on a wild onion plant, and that is why, to this day,
wild onion plants never fade. Now when Alexander awoke, he stretched out
his hand to seize and drink the Water of Life and found naught; and in
his rage he would have killed the slaves who guarded his sleep, but his
sister being of royal blood, could not hide the truth, and she told him
that, not knowing she had thrown the Water of Life away.
"Then the king waxed terrible in his wrath, and he cast a curse upon his
sister, and prayed that from the waist downward she might be turned into
a fish, and live always in the open sea far from all land and habitation
of man. And the gods granted his prayer, so it happens that to this day
those who sail over the open sea in ships often see Alexander's sister,
half a woman and half a fish, tossing in the waves. Strange to say, she
does not hate Alexander, and when a ship passes close to her she cries
out: 'Does Alexander live?'
"And should the captain, not knowing who it is that speaks, answer, 'He
is dead,' then the maid in her great grief tosses her white arms and her
long golden hair wildly about, and troubles the water, and sinks the
ship. But if, when the question comes up with the voice of the wind,
'Does Alexander live?' the captain answers at once, 'He lives and
reigns,' then the maid's heart is joyful and she sings sweet songs till
the ship is out of sight.
"And this is how sailors learn new love songs, and sing them when they
return to land."
When the old man ceased speaking Aleko waited a moment and then said
slowly:
"That is not true--but I like it."
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 16: By permission from _Under Greek Skies,_ by Julia
Dragoumis. Copyright by E. P. Dutton & Company.]
AMERICAN INDIAN LEGENDS
[Illustration: THE FIRST CORN]
THE FIRST CORN[17]
A LONG time ago there lived in a Pawnee village a young man who was a
great gambler. Every day he played at sticks, and he was almost always
unlucky. Sometimes he would lose everything that he had, and would even
lose things belonging to his father. His father had often scolded him
about gambling, and had told him that he ought to stop it. There were
two things that he never staked; these two things were his shield and
his lance.
One day he played sticks for a long time, and when he got through he had
lost everything that he had except these two things. When he went home
at night to his father's lodge he told his relations what he had done,
and his father said to him:
"My son, for a long time you have been doing this, and I have many times
spoken to you about it. Now I have done. I cannot have you here any
longer. You cannot live here in my lodge or in this village. You must go
away."
The young man thought about it for a little while and then he said:
"Well, I will go. It does not make much difference where I am." So he
took his shield and his spear and went out of the lodge and started to
go away from the village. When he got outside of the village and had
gone some distance, he heard behind him a loud rushing sound like a
strong wind--the sound kept getting nearer and louder--and all at once
it was above him, and then the sound stopped, and something spoke to him
and said:
"Well, I am here. I have come to find you. I have been sent, and am here
on purpose to get you and take you with me." The voice that spoke to him
was the Wind.
The Wind took the young man up and carried him away towards the west.
They traveled many days, and passed over broad prairies and then across
high mountains and then over high, wide plains and over other mountains
until they came to the end of the world, where the sky bends down and
touches the ground. The last thing the young man saw was the gate
through the edge of the sky. A great buffalo bull stands in this gateway
and blocks it up. He had to move to one side to let the Wind and the
young man pass through. Every year one hair drops from the hide of this
bull. When all have fallen the end of the world will come.
After they had passed through this gate they went on, and it seemed as
if they were passing over a big water. There was nothing to be seen
except the sky and the water. At last they came to a land. Here were
many people--great crowds of them. The Wind told the young man:
"These are all waiters on the Father."
They went on, and at last came to the Father's lodge and went in. When
they had sat down the Father spoke to the young man and said to him:
"My son, I have known you for a long time, and have watched you. I
wanted to see you, and that is why I gave you bad luck at the sticks,
and why I sent my Wind to bring you here. Your people are very hungry
now because they can find no buffalo, but I am going to give you
something on which you can live, even when the buffalo fail."
Then he gave him three little sacks. The first contained squash seed;
the second beans, red and white; and the third corn, white, red, blue
and yellow. The Father said:
"Tie these sacks to your shield and do not lose them. When you get back
to your people give each one some of the seeds and tell him to put them
in the ground; then they will make more. These things are good to eat,
but the first year do not let the people eat them; let them put the
yield away and the next year again put it in the ground. After that they
can eat a part of what grows, but they must always save some for seed.
So the people will always have something to eat with their buffalo meat,
and something to depend on if the buffalo fail." The Father gave him
also a buffalo robe, and said to him:
"When you go back, the next day after you have got there, call all the
people together in your lodge, and give them what is in this robe, and
tell them all these things. Now you can go back to your people."
The Wind took the young man back. They traveled a long time, and at last
they came to the Pawnee village. The Wind put the young man down, and he
went into his father's lodge and said:
"Father, I am here." But his father did not believe him, and said:
"It is not you." He had been gone so long that they had thought him
dead. Then he said to his mother:
"Mother, I am here." And his mother knew him and was glad that he had
returned.
At this time the people had no buffalo. They had scouted far and near
and could find none anywhere, and they were all very hungry. The little
children cried with hunger. The next day after he got back, the young
man sent out an old man to go through the camp and call all the people
to come to his father's lodge. When they were there, he opened his robe
and spread it out, and it was covered with pieces of fat buffalo meat
piled high. The young man gave to each person all he could carry, but
while he was handing out the pieces, his father was trying to pull off
the robe the hind-quarters of the buffalo and hide them. He was afraid
that the young man might give away all the meat, and he wanted to save
this for their own lodge. But the young man said:
"Father, do not take this away. Do not touch anything. There is enough."
After he had given them the meat he showed them the sacks of seed and
told them what they were for, and explained to them that they must not
eat any the first year, but that they must always save some to plant,
and the people listened. Then he said to them:
"I hear that you have no buffalo. Come out to-morrow and I will show you
where to go for buffalo." The People wondered where this could be, for
they had traveled far in all directions looking for buffalo. The next
day they went out as he had told them, and the young man sent two boys
to the top of a high hill close to camp, and told them to let him know
what they saw from it. When the boys got to the top of the hill, they
saw down below them in the hollow a big band of buffalo.
When the people learned that the buffalo were there, they all took their
arrows and ran out and chased the buffalo and made a big killing, so
that there was plenty in the camp and they made much dried meat. Four
days after this he again sent out the boys, and they found buffalo. Now
that they had plenty of meat they stayed in one place, and when spring
came the young man put the seed in the ground. When the people first saw
these strange plants growing they wondered at them, for they were new
and different from anything that they had ever seen growing on the
prairie. They liked the color of the young stalks, and the way they
tasseled out, and the way the ears formed. They found that besides being
pretty to look at they were good to eat, for when the young man had
gathered the crop he gave the people a little to taste, so that they
might know the words that he had spoken were true. The rest he kept for
seed. Next season he gave all the people seed to plant, and after that
they always had these things.
Later, this young man became one of the head men, and taught the people
many things. He told them that always when they killed buffalo they must
bring the fattest and offer them to the Father. He taught them about the
sacred bundles, and told them that they must put an ear of corn on the
bundles and must keep a piece of fat in the bundles along with the corn,
and that both must be kept out of sight. In the fall they should take
the ear of corn out of the bundles and rub the piece of fat over it.
Thus they would have good crops and plenty of food.
All these things the people did, and it was a help to them in their
living.
[Illustration: WAUKEWA'S EAGLE]
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 17: By special permission from _The Punishment of the Stingy,_
by George Bird Grinnell. Copyright by Harper & Brothers.]
WAUKEWA'S EAGLE[18]
ONE day, when the Indian boy Waukewa was hunting along the
mountain-side, he found a young eagle with a broken wing, lying at the
base of a cliff. The bird had fallen from an aery on a ledge high above,
and being too young to fly, had fluttered down the cliff and injured
itself so severely that it was likely to die. When Waukewa saw it he was
about to drive one of his sharp arrows through its body, for the passion
of the hunter was strong in him, and the eagle plunders many a fine fish
from the Indian's drying-frame. But a gentler impulse came to him as he
saw the young bird quivering with pain and fright at his feet, and he
slowly unbent his bow, put the arrow in his quiver, and stooped over the
panting eaglet. For fully a minute the wild eyes of the wounded bird and
the eyes of the Indian boy, growing gentler and softer as he gazed,
looked into one another. Then the struggling and panting of the young
eagle ceased; the wild, frightened look passed out of its eyes, and it
suffered Waukewa to pass his hand gently over its ruffled and draggled
feathers. The fierce instinct to fight, to defend its threatened life,
yielded to the charm of the tenderness and pity expressed in the boy's
eyes; and from that moment Waukewa and the eagle were friends.
Waukewa went slowly home to his father's lodge, bearing the wounded
eaglet in his arms. He carried it so gently that the broken wing gave no
twinge of pain, and the bird lay perfectly still, never offering to
strike with its sharp beak the hands that clasped it.
Warming some water over the fire at the lodge, Waukewa bathed the broken
wing of the eagle, and bound it up with soft strips of skin. Then he
made a nest of ferns and grass inside the lodge, and laid the bird in
it. The boy's mother looked on with shining eyes. Her heart was very
tender. From girlhood she had loved all the creatures of the woods, and
it pleased her to see some of her own gentle spirit waking in the boy.
When Waukewa's father returned from hunting, he would have caught up the
young eagle and wrung its neck. But the boy pleaded with him so eagerly,
stooping over the captive and defending it with his small hands, that
the stern warrior laughed and called him his "little squaw-heart." "Keep
it, then," he said, "and nurse it until it is well. But then you must
let it go, for we will not raise up a thief in the lodges." So Waukewa
promised that when the eagle's wing was healed and grown so that it
could fly, he would carry it forth and give it its freedom.
It was a month--or, as the Indians say, a moon--before the young eagle's
wing had fully mended and the bird was old enough and strong enough to
fly. And in the meantime Waukewa cared for it and fed it daily, and the
friendship between the boy and the bird grew very strong.
But at last the time came when the willing captive must be freed. So
Waukewa carried it far away from the Indian lodges, where none of the
young braves might see it hovering over and be tempted to shoot their
arrows at it, and there he let it go. The young eagle rose toward the
sky in great circles, rejoicing in its freedom and its strange, new
power of flight. But when Waukewa began to move away from the spot, it
came swooping down again; and all day long it followed him through the
woods as he hunted. At dusk, when Waukewa shaped his course for the
Indian lodges, the eagle would have accompanied him. But the boy
suddenly slipped into a hollow tree and hid, and after a long time the
eagle stopped sweeping about in search of him and flew slowly and sadly
away.
Summer passed, and then winter; and spring came again, with its flowers
and birds and swarming fish in the lakes and streams. Then it was that
all the Indians, old and young, braves and squaws, pushed their light
canoes out from shore and with spear and hook waged pleasant war against
the salmon and the red-spotted trout. After winter's long imprisonment,
it was such joy to toss in the sunshine and the warm wind and catch
savory fish to take the place of dried meats and corn!
Above the great falls of the Apahoqui the salmon sported in the cool,
swinging current, darting under the lee of the rocks and leaping full
length in the clear spring air. Nowhere else were such salmon to be
speared as those which lay among the riffles at the head of the Apahoqui
rapids. But only the most daring braves ventured to seek them there, for
the current was strong, and should a light canoe once pass the
danger-point and get caught in the rush of the rapids, nothing could
save it from going over the roaring falls.
Very early in the morning of a clear April day, just as the sun was
rising splendidly over the mountains, Waukewa launched his canoe a
half-mile above the rapids of the Apahoqui, and floated downward, spear
in hand, among the salmon-riffles. He was the only one of the Indian
lads who dared fish above the falls. But he had been there often, and
never yet had his watchful eye and his strong paddle suffered the
current to carry his canoe beyond the danger-point. This morning he was
alone on the river, having risen long before daylight to be first at the
sport.
The riffles were full of salmon, big, lusty fellows, who glided about
the canoe on every side in an endless silver stream. Waukewa plunged his
spear right and left, and tossed one glittering victim after another
into the bark canoe. So absorbed in the sport was he that for once he
did not notice when the canoe began to glide more swiftly among the
rocks. But suddenly he looked up, caught his paddle, and dipped it
wildly in the swirling water. The canoe swung sidewise, shivered, held
its own against the torrent, and then slowly, inch by inch, began to
creep upstream toward the shore. But suddenly there was a loud, cruel
snap, and the paddle parted in the boy's hands, broken just above the
blade! Waukewa gave a cry of despairing agony. Then he bent to the
gunwale of his canoe and with the shattered blade fought desperately
against the current. But it was useless. The racing torrent swept him
downward; the hungry falls roared tauntingly in his ears.
Then the Indian boy knelt calmly upright in the canoe, facing the mist
of the falls, and folded his arms. His young face was stern and lofty.
He had lived like a brave hitherto--now he would die like one.
Faster and faster sped the doomed canoe toward the great cataract. The
black rocks glided away on either side like phantoms. The roar of the
terrible waters became like thunder in the boy's ears. But still he
gazed calmly and sternly ahead, facing his fate as a brave Indian
should. At last he began to chant the death-song, which he had learned
from the older braves. In a few moments all would be over. But he would
come before the Great Spirit with a fearless hymn upon his lips.
Suddenly a shadow fell across the canoe. Waukewa lifted his eyes and saw
a great eagle hovering over, with dangling legs, and a spread of wings
that blotted out the sun. Once more the eyes of the Indian boy and the
eagle met; and now it was the eagle who was master!
With a glad cry the Indian boy stood up in his canoe, and the eagle
hovered lower. Now the canoe tossed up on that great swelling wave that
climbs to the cataract's edge, and the boy lifted his hands and caught
the legs of the eagle. The next moment he looked down into the awful
gulf of waters from its very verge. The canoe was snatched from beneath
him and plunged down the black wall of the cataract; but he and the
struggling eagle were floating outward and downwards through the cloud
of mist. The cataract roared terribly, like a wild beast robbed of its
prey. The spray beat and blinded, the air rushed upward as they fell.
But the eagle struggled on with his burden. He fought his way out of the
mist and the flying spray. His great wings threshed the air with a
whistling sound. Down, down they sank, the boy and the eagle, but ever
farther from the precipice of water and the boiling whirlpool below. At
length, with a fluttering plunge, the eagle dropped on a sand-bar below
the whirlpool, and he and the Indian boy lay there a minute, breathless
and exhausted. Then the eagle slowly lifted himself, took the air under
his free wings, and soared away, while the Indian boy knelt on the sand,
with shining eyes following the great bird till he faded into the gray
of the cliffs.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 18: By permission from Waukewa's Eagle, by James Buckham, in
_St. Nicholas_, Vol. XXVIII, Part I, The Century Company.]
HALLOWE'EN AND MYSTERY STORIES
[Illustration: THE ROLL-CALL OF THE REEF]
THE ROLL-CALL OF THE REEF[19]