[Illustration: “Look yonder; that is the house of Darkeye the forester.
We are safe!”]
THE
GOLD THREAD
AND
WEE DAVIE
TWO STORIES FOR THE YOUNG
BY
NORMAN MACLEOD, D.D.
AUTHOR OF “THE STARLING,” “THE OLD LIEUTENANT AND HIS SON,” ETC.
THOMAS NELSON AND SONS, LTD.
LONDON, EDINBURGH, AND NEW YORK
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
“Look yonder; that is the house of Darkeye the forester.
We are safe!” _Frontispiece_
“See that tall tower,” said Wolf 16
“Isn’t he a bonnie bit bairn?” 96
William never moved, though his great chest seemed to
heave 144
THE GOLD THREAD
A STORY FOR THE YOUNG
THE GOLD THREAD.
CHAPTER I.
Once upon a time, a boy lost his way in a vast forest that filled many
a valley and passed over many a hill――a rolling sea of leaves for
miles and miles, farther than the eye could reach. His name was Eric,
son of the good King Magnus. He was dressed in a blue velvet dress,
with a gold band round his waist, and his fair locks in silken curls
waved from his beautiful head. He was a lovely boy, and if you looked
into his large blue eyes, and saw his sweet smile, you would say in
your heart, “There is a boy so winning and brave and true, that I
would dearly like to have him as a friend and companion.” But, alas!
his hands and face were scratched, and his clothes torn with the
briars, as he ran here and there like one much perplexed. Sometimes he
made his way through tangled brushwood, or crossed the little grassy
plains in the forest, now losing himself in dark ravines, then
climbing up their steep sides, or crossing with difficulty the streams
that hurried through them. For a long time he kept his heart up, and
always said to himself, “I shall find it, I shall find it;” until, as
the day advanced, he was wearied and hungry; and every now and then he
cried, “Oh, my father! where is my father? I’m lost! I’m lost!” And
“Where, oh, where is my gold thread?”
All day the forest seemed to him to be very sad. He had never seen it
so gloomy. There was a strange sadness in the rustle of the leaves,
and a sadness in the noise of the streams. He did not hear the birds
sing as they used to do. But he heard the ravens croak with their
hoarse voice, as their black forms swept along the precipices which
here and there rose above the forest, and he never saw so many large
hawks wheeling in the sky. They always appeared to be wheeling over
his head, pausing, and fluttering as if about to dart down upon him.
But on he journeyed, in the hope of finding his way out of the
boundless forest, or of meeting some one who would be his guide. At
last the sun appeared to be near its setting, and he could see the
high branches of the trees shining like gold, as its rays from the
west fell upon them. But underneath, the forest was getting darker and
darker, and all the birds were preparing to sleep, and everything at
last became so still that he could hear his steps echoing through the
wood, and if he stopped, he heard his heart beating, or a leaf
falling; but nowhere did he see a house, and no human being had he met
since morning. Then the wind suddenly began to rise, and he heard it
at first creeping along the tree-tops like a gentle whisper, and
by-and-by to call louder and louder for the storm to come. Dark clouds
gathered over the sky, and rushed along chased by the winds, that were
soon to search the forest and fight with the old trees. No wonder if
the boy began to fear, in case some evil would happen to him. Not that
he was a coward, but a very bravehearted boy; _but he had done wrong_,
and it was that which made him afraid.
At last, wearied and hardly able to go further, he sat down at the
root of an old oak, burying his face in his hands, not knowing what to
do. He then tried to climb the tree, and there to sleep somewhere
among its branches, in case wild beasts should attack him. But as he
was climbing up, he heard some one singing with a loud voice. He
listened attentively, and looking eagerly through the leaves, he saw a
boy apparently older than himself, dressed in rough shaggy clothes, as
if made from skins of wild animals. His long matted hair escaped over
his cheeks from under a black bearskin cap. With a short thick stick
he was driving a herd of swine through the wood. “Hey there, you black
porker!” cried the boy, as he threw a stone at some pig which was
running away. “Get along, you lazy long snout!” he shouted to another,
as he came thump on its back with his short stick. And then he sang
this song with a loud voice which made the woods ring:――
“Oh, there’s nothing half so fine
As to be a herd of swine,
And through the forest toddle,
With nothing in my noddle,
But rub a dub, a dub, hey up, halloo!
“How my little porkers gallop
As their ugly hides I wallop!
How they grunt, and how they wheeze!
How they grub among the trees!
Oh, rub a dub, a dub, hey up, halloo!
“How their backs begin to bristle
When they hear their master whistle!
How they kick at every lick
That I give them with my stick!
Oh, rub a dub, a dub, hey up, halloo!”
“Get along, you rascals,” cried the savage-looking herd, “or I’ll kill
and roast you before your time;” and soon the herd, with his swine,
were concealed from Eric’s sight by the wood; but he still heard his
“rub-a-dub” chorus, to which he beat time with a sort of rude drum,
which he had made for himself with a skin and hoop. Eric determined to
make his acquaintance, or at all events to follow him to some house;
so he descended from the tree, and ran off in the direction from which
he heard the song coming. He soon overtook him.
“Hollo!” said the wild-looking lad, with as much astonishment as if
Eric had fallen from the clouds. “Who? where from? where to?”
“I have lost my way in the wood,” said Eric, “and want you to guide
me.”
“To Ralph?” asked the swineherd.
“Ralph! pray, who is he?”
“Master, chief, captain, all,” replied the young savage.
“I will go anywhere for shelter, as night is coming on; but I will
reward you if you bring me to my father’s home.”
“Who is your father, my fine fellow?” inquired the swineherd, leaning
on his stick.
“The king,” replied Eric.
“You lie! Ralph is king.”
“I speak the truth, swineherd.”
The swineherd by this time was examining Eric’s dress with an impudent
look. “Pay me now,” said he; “give me this gold band, and I will guide
you.”
“I cannot give you this gold band, for my father gave it to me, and I
have lost enough to-day. By the bye, did you see a gold thread waving
anywhere among the trees?”
“A gold thread! What do you mean? I saw nothing but pigs until I saw
you, and I shall treat you like a pig, d’ye hear? and lick you too,
for I have no time to put off. So give me your band. Come, be quick!”
said he, with his fierce face, and holding up his stick as he came up
to Eric.
“Keep off, swineherd; don’t touch me!”
“Don’t touch you! why shouldn’t I touch you? Do you see this stick?
How would you like to have it among your fine curls, as I drive it
among the pigs’ bristles?” and he began to flourish it over his head,
and to press nearer and nearer. “Once! twice! when I say thrice, if
you do not unbuckle, I shall save you the trouble, and leave you to
the wild beasts, who would like a tender bit of prince’s flesh better
than pork. Come; once! twice!”
Eric was on his guard, and said, “I shall fight you, you young robber,
till death, rather than give you this band――so keep off.”
“Thrice!” shouted the herd, and down came his thick cudgel, which he
intended should fall on Eric’s head.
But Eric sprang aside, and before he could recover himself, dashed in
upon him, tripped him up, and threw him on the grass, getting on top
of him and seizing him by the throat in a moment. The herd, in his
efforts to get out of Eric’s grasp, let go his cudgel, which Eric
seized and held over his head. “Unless you promise, master swineherd,
to leave me alone, I may leave _you_ alone with the wild beasts.”
“You are stronger than I thought,” said the herd. “Let me up, or I
shall be choked. Let me up, I say, and I promise to guide you.”
“I shall trust you,” said Eric, “though you would not trust me. Rise!”
So the herd rose and picked up his cap, but Eric would not give him
his stick until he guided him to some house. “Come along,” said he
sulkily.
“What is your name?” asked Eric.
“They call me Wolf. I killed a wolf once with my boar-spear.”
“Why, Wolf, did you try to kill me?”
“Because I wanted your gold belt.”
“But it is a great sin to rob and kill.”
“Other people rob me, and would kill me too if I did not take care of
their pigs,” said Wolf carelessly.
“You should fear God, Wolf.”
“I fear that name truly, for Ralph always swears by it when he is in a
rage. But I do not know what it means.”
“O Wolf, surely your father and mother told you about God, who made
all things, and made you and me; God, who loves us, and wishes us to
love Him, and to do what is right?”
“I have no father or mother,” replied Wolf, “nor brothers or sisters,
and I never heard of God. No one cares for me but my pigs, and so I
sleep with them, and eat with them.”
“Poor fellow!” said Eric, with a look of kindness; “I am sorry for
you. Here is all the money I have. Take it. I wish to show you that I
have no ill will to you;” and Eric gave him a gold coin.
Wolf gave a grunt like one of his pigs, and began his song of
“Rub-a-dub.”
“No one ever gave me money before,” remarked Wolf almost to himself,
as he examined the coin on his rough hand, which looked like tanned
leather. “How much is this?” inquired Wolf.
Eric explained its value. The herd was astonished, and began to think
what he could purchase with it. He seemed very anxious to conceal it,
and at last did so in the top of his hairy cap.
[Illustration: “See that tall tower,” said Wolf.]
“See that tall tower,” said Wolf, “which looks like a rock above the
trees; that is the only house near for twenty miles round. You can
reach it soon; and when you do reach it,” said Wolf, speaking low, as
if some one might hear him, “take my advice, and get away as fast as
you can from my master Ralph, for”――and Wolf gave a number of winks,
as much as to say, I know something.
“What do you mean?” asked Eric.
“Oh, nothing, nothing; but take Wolf’s advice, and say to Ralph you
are a beggar. Put the gold band in your pocket, and swear to remain
with him, but run off when you can. Cheat him; that’s my way.”
“It is not my way,” replied Eric, and, come what may, never will be,
for a voice says to me,――
‘Better to die
Than ever to lie,’”
“Ha! ha!” said Wolf; “I wish you lived with Ralph. He would teach you
another lesson, my lad.”
“I would rather that I had you, Wolf, to live in my house. I would be
kind to you, and help you to be good, and tell you about God, who
lives in the sky.”
“And is that He who is speaking? Listen!”
Thunder began to mutter in the sky.
“Yes, it is He,” replied Eric; “and if you listen, you will also hear
Him often speak with a small still voice in your heart.”
“I never heard Him,” replied Wolf; “but I cannot stay longer with you,
for my pigs will wander: there is a black rascal who always leads them
astray. Now, king’s son, give Wolf the stick; it is all he has.”
“Here it is to you, and I am sure you will not use it wrongly; you
will try to be good, Wolf? for it will make you happy.”
“Humph!” said Wolf, “I am happy when I get my pigs home, and Ralph
does not strike me. But I must away, and see you don’t tell any one
you gave me money. They would rob me.” And away he ran among the trees
in search of his pigs, while Eric heard his little drum, and his song
of “Rub-a-dub, halloo!” die away in the distance.
Another loud peal of thunder and flash of lightning made Eric start,
and off he ran towards a light which now beamed from the tower. But he
thought to himself, “I am much worse than that poor Wolf, for I knew
what was right, and did not do it. I heard the voice, but did not
attend to it. Oh, my father, why did I not obey you?”