When the Princess looked into the mysterious land, where not a sound
was heard, she gathered up her rich silken skirt in both hands, and
jumping ashore, ran as fast as her feet would carry her over the same
ground where once the leopards had chased her when she was a fox. She
lost one of her sandals, her hair, that was fastened high on her head
with fans and golden pins, slipped down on her shoulders, and the
jeweled clasp at her waist dropped off, but she never stopped or looked
behind. The Prince followed as fast as he could, but so fleet of foot
was she that she left him far behind, and when she reached the big tree
with the hollow trunk she fell down before it, crying:
“Oh, most powerful dragon, make me a fox again, for now I know it is
better to be a fox than a woman.”
Then out of the hollow tree came the same hideous creature she had seen
before, and when it opened its yawning mouth its teeth shone like ivory
spears, and she thought it was about to swallow her. But the dragon
only looked at her and sniffed scornfully until the smoke from its
nostrils darkened the air.
And when the Prince came in search of Wild Flower only a gray fox
darted through the tangled weeds and bushes and was lost in the deep,
dark wood. The Prince looked after it longingly.
“Oi! Oi!” he cried (which is the Japanese way of saying “Hello!”)
“Would that I had my leopards with me. Then would I give chase and
catch you, my fine fellow.”
But he had no time to bother with a fox when his loved one was lost
in this queer and dangerous place, and he rushed frantically about
the forest calling, “Wild Flower! Wild Flower! Dear Wild Flower!” But
though he sought her for many days, and all the rowers joined in the
hunt, he never saw her again. So he went back to the Bamboo Castle very
sad and lonely, but every one there, tired of her airs and her temper,
said she was a witch and he was well rid of her. When he thought over
how peevish she had become he was inclined to agree with them, and
finally he married a pretty and amiable little Princess and Wild Flower
was forgotten.
And out in the shadowy depths of a certain wood a cunning gray fox
smiled until he showed his shining teeth when a saucy bird, mocking the
Prince’s call, repeated, “Wild Flower! Wild Flower! Dear Wild Flower!”
in its merry song. Then he lay down and rolled over in the wet leaves
and licked his fur contentedly.
“I’m glad I’m out of that,” he said. “Now I’ll wait until the thousand
years are up. Nothing will satisfy me except to be a fox with nine
golden tails.”
With never a regret he went back to the old life, and hunted mice and
creeping things when he got hungry, and when there was neither moon nor
stars, ran through the black night to the farm house far beyond the
edge of the forest, and came back in the gray of the morning with his
lips all bloody and his paws as well--the signs of his midnight feast
in the chicken yard.
The wonderful wood, so dark, so still, so cool, put on patches of
color with the passing month, and in the few spots where the sunshine
sometimes crept, the trees grew vivid with the burning glory of autumn
or pale and cold with the first blue blossoms of spring, then softly
pink with azalea blooms or bright as a glowing sunset with the flowers
of peach and cherry.
And in the Period of Greatest Light the leaves would cover the ground
and make soft beds where all the wild things could sleep snug and warm
during the Period of Greatest Cold. As for the fox, though he was a
bit quarrelsome, the years passed pleasantly and peacefully. No one
ever again came there to hunt, and such queer things had been whispered
abroad about what happened in this pathless country, where lived such
strange creatures as never man had seen, that travelers went far out of
their way rather than pass through it.
And on stormy nights, when the wind howled and windows rattled and
the tempest-torn trees swayed and groaned, people all over the island
barred their doors tight and fast, for they said: “The spirits of the
wood are out to-night.” And they lit incense sticks to keep them from
coming in, and as they sipped their tea, told stories about the weird
wood. A favorite one was that a beautiful Princess was kept there a
prisoner by a cruel dragon, and of how a mighty Prince once found her
and carried her away to his castle, but she heard the dragon calling,
calling, calling her all the day and all the night, and at last either
she slipped out of the castle and went to him or else he came and stole
her away, no one knew just which way it was.
And while other brave men would willingly go to rescue her, yet they
all agreed what was the use, for the dragon would get her again and
they would have their trouble for nothing. So she had been there now
for hundreds and hundreds of years, but was still young and lovely--so
the story ran. But like all legends, it got a little twisted in the
telling.
So many summers and winters came and went that every one except the fox
forgot to count them. At last a famine spread over all the land. It
was the Period of Greatest Heat. No rain had fallen for many a week.
The earth was dry as a dead leaf, the grass turned brown, the streams
dried up, the birds all died or went away, one by one the animals
perished, and the once beautiful Napatantutu was grim and desolate.
The fox was now five hundred years old. His coat of fur was whiter
than when he was young, his legs were not so nimble and some of his
teeth were gone. He searched the wood for food and water and could find
neither. He grew so thin that his ribs stuck through the skin, so weak
he trembled like the aspen when he walked. The pains of hunger gnawed
him day and night and he felt as if he must surely die.
Then he mustered up all the strength he had left and crawled to the
big tree with the hollow trunk. There he fell down, a heap of skin and
bones, and called feebly for the dragon. When this terrible creature
came out it blew fire and smoke at him in awful wrath.
“I thought you wanted to be a fox with nine golden tails. Why have you
disturbed me?” it thundered.
“A fox with nine golden tails is a nice thing to talk about,” the poor
fox whimpered, “but a wise man is better than a dead fox, even if it
had twenty golden tails, so make me a wizard, Great One, and then will
I trouble you no more.”
“Bah!” cried the dragon with such fury that the flames from its mouth
flew up to the top of the hollow tree. When they died away the fox was
nowhere to be seen. In his place stood a very solemn-looking old man
with green spectacles and a bald head.
“Dear me, this is most peculiar,” he mumbled, as he pulled his long
gray whiskers thoughtfully. “I will go to the nearest village and get
something to eat, then I’ll come back and talk to that dragon a while.
If I can find out some of his secrets I will make myself the wisest man
that ever lived and then will I become the richest.”
From one end of the land to the other, and even to the islands far off
the coast, spread the fame of the great magician who lived in a cave
on the sea shore. Princes talked about him in their castles, and the
very poorest people in their little bamboo-covered huts as they counted
their grains of rice told of the wonderful wisdom of the Cave Man, as
he was called. “He can do many strange things, but there is no use
going to him if you have not money,” they said sadly. “He is hungry
for gold.”
Meanwhile the Cave Man waxed rich. The floor of his cavern home was
strewn with shining gold, ornaments of silver and ivory were on the
walls, and he had great bags of glittering jewels and treasures of
untold value, all given him by those who had come to him for help.
He could tell when it would rain and when a man must plant his crop to
reap a full harvest, where money was hidden if it had been stolen and
who had taken it, who was the right girl for a man to marry and who was
his secret enemy, he knew what would cure the sick, what would drive
away evil spirits and everything that any one could ask him. But he was
also very cruel. When the poor sought him in their sorrow he took away
their last cent, and he gave neither to the sick nor to the hungry.
“A wise man is greater than Princes or Kings,” he boasted. “Some day I
will rule the land and all men shall pay tribute to me.” And he grew
richer and richer every day. But still he was not happy. No matter
how many costly and beautiful gifts were brought him, he was never
satisfied. He became so mean and miserly that at last the good King
said:
“We must rid ourselves of this man. Too long have I borne patiently
with him and allowed him to oppress my people. He is very dangerous. If
left alone he may do great harm and become the curse of the Kingdom.
He has wisdom and wealth and they have not contented him. What will he
want next? Our heads, perhaps.”
So one night while the Cave Man slept the officers of the King crept
in, and after beating him with their spears, bound him hand and foot
and carried him off to prison. All the gold and precious stones and
splendid gifts the people had brought him were sold and the money given
to the poor, and there was feasting and rejoicing everywhere, for every
one had grown to hate and fear him.
“You might have done much good,” the King told him, “but you worked
only evil. I shall keep you in prison for many years and see if you
will learn to be good and happy as well as wise.”
The wizard went back to his dark little cell and pulled his long beard
all the night long. When the sun peeped over the big blue mountains
the next morning he had not closed his eyes. Like many men, wise and
otherwise, he knew better how to manage other people’s affairs than his
own. He had not been able to bring any charms away from the cave, he
had neither money nor friends, and in vain he racked his brain for a
way of escape from his gloomy prison.
“I hate men,” he cried fiercely. “Why did I ever become one? They are
nothing but stupid, two-legged animals. I see plainly now that it is
more honor to be even a common gray fox than the wisest man in the
world. Oh, that I had never seen that miserable dragon!”
But it did no good to talk this way. He was chained fast to the wall in
a horrible dungeon, with nothing but bread and water to live on, and
the thing to worry about now was how to get out. Just as he was trying
to think up some plan there came the sound of the key turning in the
rusty lock.