WISE-AS-A-SHE-WOLF AND CRACK BONE THE GIANT
“Awake, chief, and come out from your den. Wise-as-a-she-wolf is here
to talk to you,” cried the magician, in a formidable voice.
The head and shoulders of the giant immediately appeared, and from
under a fringe of tangled hair a pair of alert eyes, gray as ice,
glared about on every side and up in the air. The giant’s face was
covered with untidy, yellow whiskers. His forehead sloped back sharply
from his eyebrows, and his nose was flat. He crouched on all-fours, and
in one massive hand, which rested on the ground, he grasped the smaller
end of a trimmed pine-tree. The magician thought of the littlest
warrior, far away and alone in the magic lodge, and decided to act with
discretion.
[Illustration: “THE HEAD AND SHOULDERS OF THE GIANT IMMEDIATELY
APPEARED, AND FROM UNDER A FRINGE OF TANGLED HAIR A PAIR OF ALERT EYES,
GRAY AS ICE, GLARED ABOUT.”]
“Is it you, little great-man?” said the giant, in a voice that was not
unlike the growling of a beast. “I don’t see you,” he continued. “Show
yourself and come nearer. Old Crack Bone is ready to talk to you.”
“I can talk to you very well from where I am,” replied
Wise-as-a-she-wolf. “All I want to know is, have you seen anything of
two little red feathers?”
“I was afraid you had come to slay us all, mighty powerful one,” said
the giant, with a thunderous chuckle. “We might wade across to that
little island of yours some day, and eat all your caribou and kill all
your people,” he added.
“And that will be time enough for me to slay you. Now I want you to
give me the two red feathers which you took from the feet of the dead
man,” replied the magician.
“Was he one of your warriors?” asked the giant. “When I saw him flying
along, like a bird, I thought it was the great Wise-as-a-she-wolf
himself. So I just threw a little bone into the air, to attract his
attention, and down he came, so hard that his life was knocked right
out of him.” Then he shook with horrible laughter at the remembrance.
“Wise-as-a-she-wolf would never fly near you, without first making
himself invisible. He knows you too well to trust you,” replied the
magician, sternly.
“The poor fellow whom you killed was not one of my people,” he
continued, “but the feathers are mine, for all that, and I must ask you
to give them to me immediately.”
“How can I give them to you, when I can’t see you?” inquired the giant,
with a grin.
“If you will kindly lay them on the top of your lodge,” replied the
other.
“Little great-one,” said Crack Bone, “I am not afraid of you, or any
magician, or anything alive under the sun. You can hide from my eye;
but that does me no harm. As for the feathers, my brave warrior, why,
I intend to keep them for my own use. They are of such virtue that,
when I put them in my moccasins I can jump twice as high as my head.
With a little more practice, I shall be able to fly as well as that
unfortunate young man was flying before I tossed the shank-bone of a
moose at him.”
The magician was very angry at that, and felt a strong desire to
increase his size and close in deadly combat with the giant. But he
remembered the battle with Bright Robe, and the injuries then received,
and thought of what might happen to the baby in the distant lodge if
he should be disabled by the giant. So he changed his position, took a
small stone from the ground, breathed upon it, and threw it into the
roof of the giant’s lodge. Next moment the whole structure was a mass
of flames, and the giant, with a howl of rage, had scrambled from the
dangerous place and hurled his club at where he thought the magician
was standing. The huge weapon struck a clump of young spruce trees and
broke them as if they were twigs; but the magician stood safe.
“Will you play any more of your magic on Crack Bone?” roared the giant,
as he jumped again and again upon the fallen timber and threshed about
with his club. Wise-as-a-she-wolf made no sound. Before Crack Bone had
desisted from his violent dance, half a dozen of his people arrived on
the scene, shouting questions and staring with amazement at the great
pile of blazing timber that had so lately been the chief’s lodge. At
last Crack Bone leaned on his club, and, between gasps for breath (for
the smoke from his burning den blew about him), answered some of their
questions.
“It was that little magician, Wise-as-a-she-wolf, from across the salt
water,” he said. “He came for the red feathers. He told me to give him
back those fine red feathers. But he won’t need them now.”
Crack Bone laughed victoriously, and drew the tiny feathers from some
safe hiding-place about his person. He held them up, between his great
fingers, so that all might see. Then, bending down, he slipped one into
each of his moccasins. The magician sprang high into the air, at sign
of these preparations, and hung at a safe distance above the savage
group, watchful but invisible.
“Stand aside, friends,” roared Crack Bone. “Now I have the magic
feathers under my feet and I intend to jump about, so don’t stand too
close.”
The other giants fell back the distance of a few of their own great
strides. Then Crack Bone gathered himself together and leaped upward
with all the strength of his massive legs. Up he shot, high above the
surrounding tree-tops, struggled in the air for a few seconds and sank
back to earth. The magic of the feathers was not strong enough to keep
his mountain-like body afloat. His friends were greatly impressed by
this display of agility, and shouted until the earth rang. But the
magician, high and unseen, only smiled.
“I fear nothing,” cried the giant, to his people. “Wise-as-a-she-wolf
angered me, and now where is he? He set the red fire to eat my house
to dust, but he was not strong enough to save his own life. Oh, I am
strong and mighty, and have flying magic under my feet.” At that he
began to jump here and there, so recklessly that the other giants moved
sullenly away.
“I think the feathers are safe in his keeping,” said the magician. “He
cannot harm my people with them, for they cannot lift so great a weight
across the Narrow Sea. Some other time, when the littlest warrior is
older and stronger, I shall return and win the feathers back. I shall
always know where to find them.”
With that, he set his face again in the direction of his own country
and his own lodge, and flashed through the air with all the speed of
the moccasins of the wind; and far behind and below, Crack Bone, the
chief of the giants, continued to caper and shout before his blazing
house.
Within a hundred yards of the giant, in the top of a fir-tree, perched
a little brown owl. He sat very still; but his yellow eyes were full
of light and eagerness and cunning. He watched the stupid giant
leaping and skipping on the magic feathers, and was glad that he had
visited this desolate country.