One evening, as the two were returning together to their hut, they saw
a large wild boar approaching, followed by several young ones. As this
creature is very savage when it has its young to defend, Christern and
Sybil thought it wise to step aside among the trees, and leave the path
to the boar and its interesting family. After these had passed they
continued their way, but had not gone far when they saw a young boar
lying in the path. Christern stooped over to examine it.
[Illustration: THE BOAR FAMILY.]
“It got in with that litter,” said he, “and did not belong to it, so
the old boar has gored it badly. But it is not dead. I’ll take it home,
make a sty for it, and, if it lives, I’ll fatten it, and kill it when
it is fit for eating.”
The wounded animal lifted an appealing glance to Sybil. Its eyes wore
an almost human expression of suffering, and a most beseeching plea for
help. The girl’s heart was touched.
“It is not badly hurt,” she said. “Its flesh is torn, but if I wash its
wounds, and bind them up, and find a nice place in the woods, where I
can make it comfortable, and feed it, it will get well. It is a free,
wild creature, and must not be shut up in a close sty. Think of my dear
brother shut up when he wants to be free!”
Christern thought Sybil’s plan a foolish one, but this last argument
silenced him. He had not a word to say in reply. So the girl washed off
the blood from the boar’s wounds with her fine cambric handkerchief,
which she then tore into strips to bind them up. She found, in a
secluded place, a soft cushion of moss on which she laid him, and
partly covered him with leaves to keep him warm. She then brought from
the hut some of her own scanty supper, and gave it to the little boar.
After this she visited her patient two or three times a day, nursing
and feeding him. But, on the afternoon of the fourth day, he had
disappeared, and Sybil returned to the hut feeling quite lonely at the
loss of the little creature that had been so glad to see her.
The next night, as Christern was returning late from his work, trudging
slowly through the forest, with his lantern swinging in his hand,
and his wallet slung over his back on the end of his walking stick,
something brushed close by the old man’s ear with a buzzing of tiny
wings.
“That dragon-fly is out late,” said the old man to himself.
Very soon the wings brushed by him again with a louder whizzing.
“It is a bat!” said the old man, shaking his head. “Shoo! shoo!” But
the third time the whirring wings flew almost into his face.
“Good evening, old Christern!” said a tiny voice, such as might come
from a humming-bird, if it could speak.
The startled old man stopped and flashed the light of his lantern
around among the trees. And there, with wee wings outspread, was a
fairy skimming through the air! Christern had never seen a fairy, but
he knew this was one as soon as he saw him. And a jolly, rollicking
fellow he was!
[Illustration: CHRISTERN AND THE FAIRY.]
“You don’t know me, old fellow?” said the fairy.
Christern shook his head.
“Wanted to shut me up in a sty, and fatten me, eh? I wouldn’t be much
of a mouthful now, would I? Don’t you wish you could get me?”
And the saucy fellow soared high up among the trees.
Christern nearly dropped his lantern in his astonishment. “You don’t
ever mean to tell me that boars are fairies?” he said, at last.
“I mean to say nothing of the kind!” cried the fairy, indignantly.
“Your horrid, beastly boars are no relations of ours, even! I’ll tell
you how it was,” he said, coming nearer Christern, and speaking in
a confidential tone. “Our fairies all have wings, and can fly, but
there are other kinds without wings. Some of these are good, but some
are bad, and they are full of spite against us because we are better
off than they. I offended a tribe of these not long ago, and they had
influence with a wicked old witch who changed me into a little boar. I
was to remain in that shape for a week. She would have made the time
longer, if she could. But they all thought I would be killed in that
time. And so I should have been but for your Sybil. And there was
another thing worse than death. If I was deprived of my liberty during
that week, I could never again regain my natural shape. So, if you had
put me in your sty, I would have been eaten up one of these days as a
boar. From this awful fate your Sybil saved me. So I am doubly indebted
to her, and I want to do something for her.”
“Oh, you are the good fairy, who is to save our Maghar!” cried the old
man, joyfully.
Thereupon he related the whole sad story, and the fairy told him he
would consult with his tribe that night; and, if he and Sybil would
come to that spot on the following night he would let them know what
could be done.
Sybil’s delight was unbounded. She now felt sure that her brother would
be saved. But, nevertheless she accompanied Christern to the place of
meeting, half fearing that the frisky fairy would play her some trick.
But he was there, before them, and had dressed himself in his best suit
of green in honor of the occasion.
As soon as they appeared he began chattering as fast as ever he could.
“We fairies have hit upon a splendid plan,” he said. “But there is no
time to lose. Sybil, I have seen your brother, but he did not see me.
I was at the castle this morning before cock-crow. I flew in through a
loop-hole. Nobody saw me. It took me a long time to find out in what
room your brother was kept, but, at last, I made it out. I intended to
stay until I did. He is in a room, high up in the north tower. He has
been pretty well, but now his jailers have begun the plan of starving
him; and he will soon be too weak to save himself as we propose, which
is the only way open to him. It requires steady nerves, and great
courage. But do not weep, for we will save him, only it must be done
speedily. Do you, Christern, be ready to go with me to the castle at
break of day. Pretend you are a beggar. There are so many of these you
will pass unsuspected. I will point out to you a small postern door
at the back of the castle, stay about that; and I will hide near it.
I could slip inside easily enough, and tell Maghar what to do, but
he does not know me, and would not trust me. So you must get inside
the castle some way and see him. And, not only that, but you must get
out again. And this is our plan for doing this. We fairies have three
magical cocks. At a signal from me these cocks will appear on the crest
of the hill at the back of the castle, and will sing a song. This will
so astonish the sentinels that they will be thrown off their guard. I
will then slip in through a loop-hole, unlock the postern door, and
let you in. We will tell Maghar how he can escape. Then the cocks will
appear again, and while the attention of the guards is distracted, we
will get out of the castle. Remember now to be here at daybreak.”
And the fairy disappeared, much to Sybil’s regret, who had a hundred
questions to ask him about her brother’s appearance, and treatment.
He had not even told her what his plan was for her brother’s escape.
But he did not come back, and she was obliged to be satisfied with the
information she had.
The programme was carried out in every particular. Christern acted his
part of beggar so well that he managed to get near the postern door,
unsuspected, with the fairy snugly tucked into a fold of his ragged
dress. On arriving at the place the fairy concealed himself in some
vines. At the appointed signal three magnificent cocks appeared abreast
on the top of the hill.
[Illustration: THREE MAGICAL COCKS.]
The like of these cocks had never been seen in that country, and
they immediately attracted the attention of everybody. But when they
opened their mouths, and began to sing the words of a war song, the
sentinels forgot everything, and deserted their posts to get as near
the wonderful songsters as possible without alarming them.
Now was the time to slip into the castle easily. But the whole plan
had liked to have miscarried through a circumstance unforeseen by the
fairies who had contrived it. Christern was fully as much delighted
and astonished with the magical cocks, as the sentinels; and was on
the point of rushing off with the men, when the fairy, fortunately,
perceived his intention, and, darting out of the postern door, which
was open, he pulled Christern’s hair so vigorously that the old man
was reminded of his duty, and felt heartily ashamed that he had, for a
moment, forgotten his dear young master.
The fairy conducted Christern, at once, to Maghar’s room. He had found
out where the key of the door was kept, and Christern unlocked it.
Maghar was lying on a bed of straw in a corner of a stone cell. He
looked sick with despair. He did not move when the door opened, but, as
soon as he heard Christern’s voice, he sprang up instantly. His pale
face flushed, his dulled eyes brightened, and, from that moment, he was
filled again with life, hope, and vigor.
The method of escape planned by the fairies was a desperate one. This
was the reason the fairy had taken care to disappear before Sybil could
ask him what it was. He knew she would think it impossible. But the
fairies had full faith in its success, if only Maghar would have the
nerve and the courage to go through his part.
At certain hours sentinels went the rounds of the castle rooms to see
that all was right. The fairy knew this, and had planned this visit
just after the morning round. These sentinels had rather a monotonous
life, and were glad enough sometimes, especially of an evening, to stop
awhile and have a chat with a prisoner who could tell them as much as
Maghar; consequently he was to take occasion at the next visit of the
sentinels to invite conversation; to skilfully introduce the subject
of horseback riding; to boast of his own powers in this line; and to
declare that if he had a horse he knew of at his old home, he could
make the leap from the top of the tower across the chasm, and land
safely on the opposite side on the hill that he could see from his
window. The sentinels would not credit this, but would talk of it in
the court-yard, and, finally, it would reach the ears of the governor
of the castle and his officers. Their curiosity would be aroused to
see if he would really have the courage to make the attempt. As for
the successful accomplishment of such a leap, they would consider it
impossible. The young knight would be dashed to pieces at the foot of
the tower. But it would be a good way to get rid of him. They could let
it be known that he had perished through his own fool-hardiness. They
would give him permission to make the leap, and ask where the horse was
to be found. Maghar was to direct them to the cave of the magician,
taking care not to let them know that he was anything more than a
simple hermit. The magician would have a horse ready—one that he had
endowed with such magical powers that it would make the leap with ease.
And besides myriads of fairies would be hovering around, invisible to
all eyes except Maghar’s, and these would help to keep up his courage.
As for getting the horse up the castle stairs that was easily managed.
Maghar had only to play an air on the flute, and the horse would follow
him up stairs or down.
This was the plan of the fairies. Christern was appalled when he heard
it. But Maghar embraced it at once. It was better, he told Christern,
to be dashed to pieces at the bottom of the abyss than to suffer the
slow torture of starvation.
The old man and the fairy, being in fear of discovery, made the
interview as short as possible. They returned to the postern door, the
fairy went outside through the loop-hole, gave his signal, and again
the wonderful cocks appeared on the hill. This time they sang a merry
song, and kept time to the music with their feet. Again the sentinels
were charmed into deserting their posts, and Christern and the fairy
got safely away.
Maghar had his talk with the guards, and, by the next afternoon,
everybody in the castle, from the governor to the stable boys, had
heard of his great boast about the leap. Everything turned out just as
the fairy had said. The governor, and his officers, glad to have some
sport, proposed to Maghar that he should make good his boast. They felt
certain he would be killed, and in that way they would happily be rid
of him. But they did not tell him this. He agreed to the proposition,
without manifesting any eagerness, but stipulated that he should have
food, and drink to strengthen him, and that his sword and armor should
be restored to him. These requests were granted. It was no longer
necessary to starve him as he was to be killed another way.
The good magician had the horse ready for the messengers. The animal
knew exactly what was expected of him; and, when Maghar was led down by
his guards to the yard to see the steed, it rubbed its head against his
shoulders as if glad to see him, which action convinced the spectators
that the two were old acquaintances, whereas they had never seen each
other until that moment.
It was a powerfully-built horse, of a roan color, with bright,
intelligent eyes, and a flowing mane, and tail of pure white. Everybody
admired it, and the next day the battlements of the castle were crowded
with people to witness the daring feat of horsemanship. The top of the
northern tower was left clear for the horse and rider. The top of the
southern tower was reserved for the governor, and his officers.
These remained below, at first, to witness the ascent of the stairs,
which, in itself, was a remarkable thing for a horse to do. Maghar
walked up the stairs playing an inspiriting air on the flute, and the
horse followed him readily but slowly up the long and winding ascent,
to the very top of the northern tower.
[Illustration: “THE HORSE STUMBLED ON THE NARROW BATTLEMENT.”]
The great personages then took their places on the other tower, and
Maghar got upon the back of the horse.
Up to this moment he had been perfectly cool and self-possessed; but
now, as he looked across the yawning chasm, forty feet wide, at the
wall of the precipice opposite, a spasm of fear came over him. He did
not see the cloud of fairies about him. His hand trembled, and he
held the bridle so unsteadily that the horse stumbled on the narrow
battlement. The stones of the old tower were loose, and several large
ones went down into the abyss with a thundering sound, frightful to
hear. One of the hind feet of the horse slipped over the edge of the
wall, turning Maghar a little in the saddle, so that he looked down
into the awful abyss.
At this sight he made a superhuman exertion to right himself in the
saddle, and, by this violent impetus he threw the horse over so much to
the opposite side that it was able to regain its foothold on the tower.
Perhaps, too, the fairies helped it a little. Maghar saw these friendly
little people now, and the sight gave him new courage.
The horse stepped carefully to the unbroken side of the tower. Maghar
saw that the horse was standing firmly; and, then without allowing a
moment for reflection, he urged the noble beast to the leap.
It sprang frantically into the air; or so it seemed to the spectators.
But really it was not frantic at all, but a steady, powerful impetus
that carried it clear across the great chasm.
Horse and rider landed safely on the opposite bank! Enemies and
infidels though they were, the spectators cheered and shouted in
admiration of this wonderful feat of horsemanship!
Maghar dismounted for a few moments, taking care to put the cover of
a thick copse between himself and any arrow shots that might be sent
after him. He wished to compose his own nerves, for they had been
terribly shaken. But he soon mounted again, and was off like the wind.
He was not pursued. The infidels knew it to be useless, for he had a
level country before him, and they must toil over rough ground, and
high hills to reach his starting-place. And perhaps, too, they thought
he had shown such courage and skill that he deserved his freedom.
For they never knew anything about the magical powers of the horse;
and, though the infidels were long ago driven out of the country, and
the old castle is a heap of ruins, the story of the wonderful leap of
the knight Maghar is still related in the neighborhood.
THE SEA-COW.
This is a queer name for a fish. But then you must admit, after a
glance at its portrait, that it is a very queer fish. It is not shaped
much like a cow, but it gives milk; and it gets the name of cow from
that circumstance.
It not only gives milk to its young, but it is warm-blooded, while
fishes are, you know, cold-blooded. It also breathes through lungs
instead of gills like fish. In all these things it resembles the whale.
The fact is that neither whales or sea-cows are really fishes, though
they are generally considered as such, as they live in the water and
swim about like fishes.
Sometimes a sea-cow is found that measures fifteen feet, but, usually,
they are much smaller. Perhaps you may have heard of this creature by
the name of manatee.
Its body is oblong; it has a flat tail, which is quite broad; its fins
are something like arms, and its head is small, with the most comical
face you ever saw. I am afraid you would be so impolite as to laugh in
its face if ever you saw one.
It has rather a stupid expression, in which respect it differs from its
cousins of the seal family. But it has ideas of its own, and very good
ones; and it is very playful when in its native element.
It is easy to capture these poor beasts, for they always swim in
crowds; and, if one is hurt with the harpoon, the others, instead of
taking themselves out of danger, stay by their wounded comrade, and do
everything in their power to assist him. They will try to pull out the
weapon, or bite at the rope attached to it, and in this way hunters can
often secure a whole troupe of manatees.
[Illustration: CAPTURE OF SEA COWS.]
The sea-cow has a thick skin, and a layer of fat under it to keep it
warm. The arm-like fins are terminated by curious appendages like
fingers, except they are united by a sort of membrane, or skin. At the
ends of these are nails, similar to finger nails. The resemblance of
these fins to hands must be strongly marked, for it is from these it
gets its name of manatee, from the Latin _manus_, a hand.
It is said by some that the female manatee carries her young in these
arm-like fins, but this is not at all probable.
The sea-cow feeds upon plants, and is, therefore, generally found near
the shores of rivers and lakes. It prefers a warm climate.
It is hunted for its oil, of which it yields a good supply of very
excellent quality; and for its flesh, which is juicy and tender eating.
The female manatees are affectionate mothers. They take great care of
their children, and keep them by them a long time, to train them in the
way in which they should go.
TWO EXTREMES.
The ostrich is the largest bird known to exist in the world. Its body
is rather small in proportion to the length of its neck and its legs.
The latter are very large and strong. The wings and tail are short, and
the feathers are extremely beautiful.
For these feathers they are hunted; but their speed is so great that
it is impossible for the swiftest horse to overtake them. The European
hunters shoot them, and the native Africans have various expedients for
entrapping them. They can run from a hunter as fast as the fleet-footed
antelope.
It is said, that, on being pursued, the birds become very much
frightened, and hide their heads in the sand, thinking that no one can
see them, because they themselves cannot see, and that many are run
down and captured in this way. But this account has been contradicted
by travelers, and it is not at all probable that so sprightly-looking a
bird is so very stupid.
The wings of the ostrich are not intended for flight, but they assist
it in running. The bird cannot fly at all. If it could there would be
no use for such prodigious legs as it has.
But the ostrich can run! It is estimated that one of these giant birds
at full speed, travels at the rate of thirty miles an hour, which is as
fast as most locomotives go! But then the bird gets tired after awhile,
and the locomotive does not. The ostrich, however, can travel a very
long distance before it gives out from fatigue.
It is a magnificent-looking bird when it is traveling over its native
sands at full speed, with its head proudly erect; its bright eyes
gleaming, its wings outspread, and its feet twinkling over the sand so
fast you can scarcely see them.
[Illustration: OSTRICHES IN FLIGHT.]
In a public garden in Paris there is a fine ostrich, which is very
gentle, and good-natured. He allows himself to be harnessed to a
carriage, in which little children ride about the grounds. He is not
permitted to go very fast, as he would not keep in the road in that
case; but a keeper walks by his side to regulate his gait; and one of
the children acts as driver, holding the reins, which are passed around
the lower part of the bird’s neck.
But, you may say, the ostrich is indeed very large, but it is not so
very much like a bird, because it cannot fly.
The ostrich is certainly a bird; but, if you insist upon it that a bird
must fly, we will take a look at the condor, and see how large he is.
He is intended for flight, you see, and has short legs, and long
powerful wings. He is swifter on the wing than the ostrich on his feet,
and will take a steady flight for miles without weariness. He has a
large body to carry through the air, but, though large, it is light,
and his wings are enormous.
A large full-grown condor, with its wings spread, measures from twelve
to fourteen feet from tip to tip of the wings; and nine feet is the
measure of very ordinary specimens.
It lives on the highest peaks of the Andes mountains in South America;
and builds its nests on crags that are inaccessible to man. It cares
nothing for snow and ice, nor for the great tempests of wind that sweep
over these lofty summits. Among these cold, desolate rocks it makes
its nest, and rears a hardy brood of young ones. When it wants food
for its family, it perches upon a jutting rock, and sends its piercing
glance far down into the cultivated valleys below. When it has singled
out an object it comes down with a swift, grand swoop of its wings, and
strikes its prey with unerring aim.
It has marvelously keen and long vision, and can see an object several
miles distant with ease.
[Illustration: CONDORS.]
Seen thus upon the wing, the condor is a most majestic-looking bird;
but when you get a near view of him you find he is nothing but a
great vulture, and has all the disagreeable features and traits of a
vulture; being a cruel, greedy, and dirty creature, that is glad to
feed upon carrion; and having an ugly, hooded head, fierce eyes, and a
savage beak. His wings are his beauties.
The condor is fond of carrion, but it also feeds upon living animals,
or, I should say, kills animals, and feeds upon the fresh flesh. It is
very strong with its beak and talons; and two of them will sometimes
attack and kill a sheep, or even a cow.
Having seen such very large birds, let us turn to the other extreme,
and find out what we have in the way of small feathered creatures.
You have, no doubt, in the summer, watched the brilliantly-colored
humming-birds flying around the flowers, and dipping their long bills
into the blossoms to find the insects that may be there. They want
these insects for their dinner, and they run their bills so deftly into
the blossoms, and touch them so daintily that they do not injure them
in the least. On the contrary they help them by eating the insects that
would otherwise feed upon the flowers.
While doing this you will observe they make a little buzzing noise with
their wings. From this they get their name.
When hovering over a flower they move with such rapidity that you can
scarcely see any motion at all, and the birds look as if they were
painted on the air.
You think these humming-birds very small; but in South America, the
home of the condor, they have some humming-birds no larger than
bumble-bees! It would be a curious sight to see one of these by the
side of the condor! But, while the latter lives on the snowy mountain
tops, the humming-birds stay in the warm valleys, where there are
plenty of flowers and insects.
It is generally supposed that these birds live on the honey of the
flowers. They do often eat the honey, but they prefer insects.
[Illustration: SPARKLING-TAILED HUMMING-BIRDS.]
There are a great many species of these tiny birds, and nearly all
are brilliantly colored. The most gorgeous specimens are found in
tropical countries. They are differently marked. Some have such bright
spots on their tails that they are called “sparkling-tailed.”