THE ORANGE FAIRY BOOK

_THE STORY OF THE HERO MAKOMA_

_From the Senna (Oral Tradition)_

Once upon a time, at the town of Senna on the banks of the Zambesi,

was born a child. He was not like other children, for he was very tall

and strong; over his shoulder he carried a big sack, and in his hand

an iron hammer. He could also speak like a grown man, but usually he

was very silent.

One day his mother said to him: 'My child, by what name shall we know

you?'

And he answered: 'Call all the head men of Senna here to the river's

bank.' And his mother called the head men of the town, and when they

had come he led them down to a deep black pool in the river where all

the fierce crocodiles lived.

'O great men!' he said, while they all listened, 'which of you will

leap into the pool and overcome the crocodiles?' But no one would come

forward. So he turned and sprang into the water and disappeared.

The people held their breath, for they thought: 'Surely the boy is

bewitched and throws away his life, for the crocodiles will eat him!'

Then suddenly the ground trembled, and the pool, heaving and swirling,

became red with blood, and presently the boy rising to the surface

swam on shore.

But he was no longer just a boy! He was stronger than any man and very

tall and handsome, so that the people shouted with gladness when they

saw him.

'Now, O my people!' he cried waving his hand, 'you know my name--I am

Makoma, "the Greater"; for have I not slain the crocodiles in the pool

where none would venture?'

Then he said to his mother: 'Rest gently, my mother, for I go to make

a home for myself and become a hero.' Then, entering his hut, he took

Nu-endo, his iron hammer, and throwing the sack over his shoulder, he

went away.

Makoma crossed the Zambesi, and for many moons he wandered towards the

north and west until he came to a very hilly country where, one day,

he met a huge giant making mountains.

'Greeting,' shouted Makoma, 'who are you?'

'I am Chi-eswa-mapiri, who makes the mountains,' answered the giant,

'and who are you?'

'I am Makoma, which signifies "greater,"' answered he.

'Greater than who?' asked the giant.

'Greater than you!' answered Makoma.

The giant gave a roar and rushed upon him. Makoma said nothing, but

swinging his great hammer, Nu-endo, he struck the giant upon the head.

He struck him so hard a blow that the giant shrank into quite a little

man, who fell upon his knees saying: 'You are indeed greater than I, O

Makoma; take me with you to be your slave!' So Makoma picked him up

and dropped him into the sack that he carried upon his back.

He was greater than ever now, for all the giant's strength had gone

into him; and he resumed his journey, carrying his burden with as

little difficulty as an eagle might carry a hare.

Before long he came to a country broken up with huge stones and

immense clods of earth. Looking over one of the heaps he saw a giant

wrapped in dust dragging out the very earth and hurling it in handfuls

on either side of him.

[Illustration: MAKOMA LEAPS INTO THE POOL OF CROCODILES]

'Who are you,' cried Makoma, 'that pulls up the earth in this way?'

'I am Chi-dubula-taka,' said he, 'and I am making the river-beds.'

'Do you know who I am?' said Makoma. 'I am he that is called

"greater"!'

'Greater than who?' thundered the giant.

'Greater than you!' answered Makoma.

With a shout, Chi-dubula-taka seized a great clod of earth and

launched it at Makoma. But the hero had his sack held over his left

arm and the stones and earth fell harmlessly upon it, and, tightly

gripping his iron hammer, he rushed in and struck the giant to the

ground. Chi-dubula-taka grovelled before him, all the while growing

smaller and smaller; and when he had become a convenient size Makoma

picked him up and put him into the sack beside Chi-eswa-mapiri.

He went on his way even greater than before, as all the river-maker's

power had become his; and at last he came to a forest of bao-babs and

thorn trees. He was astonished at their size, for every one was full

grown and larger than any trees he had ever seen, and close by he saw

Chi-gwisa-miti, the giant who was planting the forest.

Chi-gwisa-miti was taller than either of his brothers, but Makoma was

not afraid and called out to him: 'Who are you, O Big One?'

'I,' said the giant, 'am Chi-gwisa-miti, and I am planting these

bao-babs and thorns as food for my children the elephants.'

'Leave off!' shouted the hero, 'for I am Makoma, and would like to

exchange a blow with thee!'

The giant, plucking up a monster bao-bab by the roots, struck heavily

at Makoma; but the hero sprang aside, and as the weapon sank deep into

the soft earth, whirled Nu-endo the hammer round his head and felled

the giant with one blow.

So terrible was the stroke that Chi-gwisa-miti shrivelled up as the

other giants had done; and when he had got back his breath he begged

Makoma to take him as his servant. 'For,' said he, 'it is honourable

to serve a man so great as thou.'

Makoma, after placing him in his sack, proceeded upon his journey, and

travelling for many days he at last reached a country so barren and

rocky that not a single living thing grew upon it--everywhere reigned

grim desolation. And in the midst of this dead region he found a man

eating fire.

'What are you doing?' demanded Makoma.

'I am eating fire,' answered the man, laughing; 'and my name is

Chi-idea-moto, for I am the flame-spirit, and can waste and destroy

what I like.'

'You are wrong,' said Makoma; 'for I am Makoma, who is "greater" than

you--and you cannot destroy me!'

The fire-eater laughed again, and blew a flame at Makoma. But the hero

sprang behind a rock--just in time, for the ground upon which he had

been standing was turned to molten glass, like an overbaked pot, by

the heat of the flame-spirit's breath.

Then the hero flung his iron hammer at Chi-idea-moto, and, striking

him, it knocked him helpless; so Makoma placed him in the sack,

Woro-nowu, with the other great men that he had overcome.

And now, truly, Makoma was a very great hero; for he had the strength

to make hills, the industry to lead rivers over dry wastes, foresight

and wisdom in planting trees, and the power of producing fire when he

wished.

Wandering on he arrived one day at a great plain, well watered and

full of game; and in the very middle of it, close to a large river,

was a grassy spot, very pleasant to make a home upon.

Makoma was so delighted with the little meadow that he sat down under

a large tree, and removing the sack from his shoulder, took out all

the giants and set them before him. 'My friends,' said he, 'I have

travelled far and am weary. Is not this such a place as would suit a

hero for his home? Let us then go, to-morrow, to bring in timber to

make a kraal.'

[Illustration: MAKOMA THROWS HIS HAMMER AT THE FIRE-EATER]

So the next day Makoma and the giants set out to get poles to build

the kraal, leaving only Chi-eswa-mapiri to look after the place and

cook some venison which they had killed. In the evening, when they

returned, they found the giant helpless and tied to a tree by one

enormous hair!

'How is it,' said Makoma, astonished, 'that we find you thus bound and

helpless?'

'O Chief,' answered Chi-eswa-mapiri, 'at midday a man came out of the

river; he was of immense stature, and his grey moustaches were of such

length that I could not see where they ended! He demanded of me "Who

is thy master?" And I answered: "Makoma, the greatest of heroes." Then

the man seized me, and pulling a hair from his moustache, tied me to

this tree--even as you see me.'

Makoma was very wroth, but he said nothing, and drawing his

finger-nail across the hair (which was as thick and strong as palm

rope) cut it, and set free the mountain-maker.

The three following days exactly the same thing happened, only each

time with a different one of the party; and on the fourth day Makoma

stayed in camp when the others went to cut poles, saying that he would

see for himself what sort of man this was that lived in the river and

whose moustaches were so long that they extended beyond men's sight.

So when the giants had gone he swept and tidied the camp and put some

venison on the fire to roast. At midday, when the sun was right

overhead, he heard a rumbling noise from the river, and looking up he

saw the head and shoulders of an enormous man emerging from it. And

behold! right down the river-bed and up the river-bed, till they faded

into the blue distance, stretched the giant's grey moustaches!

'Who are you?' bellowed the giant, as soon as he was out of the water.

'I am he that is called Makoma,' answered the hero; 'and, before I

slay thee, tell me also what is thy name and what thou doest in the

river?'

'My name is Chin-debou Mau-giri,' said the giant. 'My home is in the

river, for my moustache is the grey fever-mist that hangs above the

water, and with which I bind all those that come unto me so that they

die.'

'You cannot bind me!' shouted Makoma, rushing upon him and striking

with his hammer. But the river giant was so slimy that the blow slid

harmlessly off his green chest, and as Makoma stumbled and tried to

regain his balance, the giant swung one of his long hairs around him

and tripped him up.

[Illustration: MAKOMA GETS ENTANGLED BY A HAIR OF CHIN-DEBOU

MAU-GIRI]

For a moment Makoma was helpless, but remembering the power of the

flame-spirit which had entered into him, he breathed a fiery breath

upon the giant's hair and cut himself free.

As Chin-debou Mau-giri leaned forward to seize him the hero flung his

sack Woro-nowu over the giant's slippery head, and gripping his iron

hammer, struck him again; this time the blow alighted upon the dry

sack and Chin-debou Mau-giri fell dead.

When the four giants returned at sunset with the poles they rejoiced

to find that Makoma had overcome the fever-spirit, and they feasted on

the roast venison till far into the night; but in the morning, when

they awoke, Makoma was already warming his hands at the fire, and his

face was gloomy.

'In the darkness of the night, O my friends,' he said presently, 'the

white spirits of my fathers came unto me and spoke, saying: "Get thee

hence, Makoma, for thou shalt have no rest until thou hast found and

fought with Sakatirina, who has five heads, and is very great and

strong; so take leave of thy friends, for thou must go alone."'

Then the giants were very sad, and bewailed the loss of their hero;

but Makoma comforted them, and gave back to each the gifts he had

taken from them. Then bidding them 'Farewell,' he went on his way.

Makoma travelled far towards the west; over rough mountains and

water-logged morasses, fording deep rivers, and tramping for days

across dry deserts where most men would have died, until at length he

arrived at a hut standing near some large peaks, and inside the hut

were two beautiful women.

'Greeting!' said the hero. 'Is this the country of Sakatirina of five

heads, whom I am seeking?'

'We greet you, O Great One!' answered the women. 'We are the wives of

Sakatirina; your search is at an end, for there stands he whom you

seek!' And they pointed to what Makoma had thought were two tall

mountain peaks. 'Those are his legs,' they said; 'his body you cannot

see, for it is hidden in the clouds.'

Makoma was astonished when he beheld how tall was the giant; but,

nothing daunted, he went forward until he reached one of Sakatirina's

legs, which he struck heavily with Nu-endo. Nothing happened, so he

hit again and then again until, presently, he heard a tired, far-away

voice saying: 'Who is it that scratches my feet?'

And Makoma shouted as loud as he could, answering: 'It is I, Makoma,

who is called "Greater"!' And he listened, but there was no answer.

Then Makoma collected all the dead brushwood and trees that he could

find, and making an enormous pile round the giant's legs, set a light

to it.

This time the giant spoke; his voice was very terrible, for it was the

rumble of thunder in the clouds. 'Who is it,' he said, 'making that

fire smoulder around my feet?'

'It is I, Makoma!' shouted the hero. 'And I have come from far away to

see thee, O Sakatirina, for the spirits of my fathers bade me go seek

and fight with thee, lest I should grow fat, and weary of myself.'

There was silence for a while, and then the giant spoke softly: 'It is

good, O Makoma!' he said. 'For I too have grown weary. There is no man

so great as I, therefore I am all alone. Guard thyself!' And bending

suddenly he seized the hero in his hands and dashed him upon the

ground. And lo! instead of death, Makoma had found life, for he sprang

to his feet mightier in strength and stature than before, and rushing

in he gripped the giant by the waist and wrestled with him.

[Illustration: MAKOMA IN THE HANDS OF SAKATIRINA]

Hour by hour they fought, and mountains rolled beneath their feet like

pebbles in a flood; now Makoma would break away, and summoning up his

strength, strike the giant with Nu-endo his iron hammer, and

Sakatirina would pluck up the mountains and hurl them upon the hero,

but neither one could slay the other. At last, upon the second day,

they grappled so strongly that they could not break away; but their

strength was failing, and, just as the sun was sinking, they fell

together to the ground, insensible.

In the morning when they awoke, Mulimo the Great Spirit was standing

by them; and he said: 'O Makoma and Sakatirina! Ye are heroes so great

that no man may come against you. Therefore ye will leave the world

and take up your home with me in the clouds.' And as he spake the

heroes became invisible to the people of the Earth, and were no more

seen among them.

(_Native Rhodesian Tale._)

_THE MAGIC MIRROR_

_From the Senna_

A long, long while ago, before ever the White Men were seen in Senna,

there lived a man called Gopani-Kufa.

One day, as he was out hunting, he came upon a strange sight. An

enormous python had caught an antelope and coiled itself around it;

the antelope, striking out in despair with its horns, had pinned the

python's neck to a tree, and so deeply had its horns sunk in the soft

wood that neither creature could get away.

'Help!' cried the antelope, 'for I was doing no harm, yet I have been

caught, and would have been eaten, had I not defended myself.'

'Help me,' said the python, 'for I am Insato, King of all the

Reptiles, and will reward you well!'

Gopani-Kufa considered for a moment, then stabbing the antelope with

his assegai, he set the python free.

'I thank you,' said the python; 'come back here with the new moon,

when I shall have eaten the antelope, and I will reward you as I

promised.'

'Yes,' said the dying antelope, 'he will reward you, and lo! your

reward shall be your own undoing!'

Gopani-Kufa went back to his kraal, and with the new moon he returned

again to the spot where he had saved the python.

Insato was lying upon the ground, still sleepy from the effects of his

huge meal, and when he saw the man he thanked him again, and said:

'Come with me now to Pita, which is my own country, and I will give

you what you will of all my possessions.'

Gopani-Kufa at first was afraid, thinking of what the antelope had

said, but finally he consented and followed Insato into the forest.

For several days they travelled, and at last they came to a hole

leading deep into the earth. It was not very wide, but large enough to

admit a man. 'Hold on to my tail,' said Insato, 'and I will go down

first, drawing you after me.' The man did so, and Insato entered.

[Illustration: GOPANI-KUFA SEES A STRANGE SIGHT]

Down, down, down they went for days, all the while getting deeper and

deeper into the earth, until at last the darkness ended and they

dropped into a beautiful country; around them grew short green grass,

on which browsed herds of cattle and sheep and goats. In the distance

Gopani-Kufa saw a great collection of houses all square, built of

stone and very tall, and their roofs were shining with gold and

burnished iron.

Gopani-Kufa turned to Insato, but found, in the place of the python, a

man, strong and handsome, with the great snake's skin wrapped round

him for covering; and on his arms and neck were rings of pure gold.

The man smiled. 'I am Insato,' said he; 'but in my own country I take

man's shape--even as you see me--for this is Pita, the land over which

I am king.' He then took Gopani-Kufa by the hand and led him towards

the town.

On the way they passed rivers in which men and women were bathing and

fishing and boating; and farther on they came to gardens covered with

heavy crops of rice and maize, and many other grains which Gopani-Kufa

did not even know the name of. And as they passed, the people who were

singing at their work in the fields, abandoned their labours and

saluted Insato with delight, bringing also palm wine and green

cocoa-nuts for refreshment, as to one returned from a long journey.

'These are my children!' said Insato, waving his hand towards the

people. Gopani-Kufa was much astonished at all that he saw, but he

said nothing. Presently they came to the town; everything here, too,

was beautiful, and everything that a man might desire he could obtain.

Even the grains of dust in the streets were of gold and silver.

Insato conducted Gopani-Kufa to the palace, and showing him his rooms,

and the maidens who would wait upon him, told him that they would have

a great feast that night, and on the morrow he might name his choice

of the riches of Pita and it should be given him. Then he went away.

Now Gopani-Kufa had a wasp called Zengi-mizi. Zengi-mizi was not an

ordinary wasp, for the spirit of the father of Gopani-Kufa had entered

it, so that it was exceedingly wise. In times of doubt Gopani-Kufa

always consulted the wasp as to what had better be done, so on this

occasion he took it out of the little rush basket in which he carried

it, saying: 'Zengi-mizi, what gift shall I ask of Insato to-morrow

when he would know the reward he shall bestow on me for saving his

life?'

'Biz-z-z,' hummed Zengi-mizi, 'ask him for Sipao the Mirror.' And it

flew back into its basket.

Gopani-Kufa was astonished at this answer; but knowing that the words

of Zengi-mizi were true words, he determined to make the request. So

that night they feasted, and on the morrow Insato came to Gopani-Kufa

and, giving him greeting joyfully, he said:

'Now, O my friend, name your choice amongst my possessions and you

shall have it!'

'O king!' answered Gopani-Kufa, 'out of all your possessions I will

have the Mirror, Sipao.'

The king started. 'O friend, Gopani-Kufa,' he said, 'ask anything but

that! I did not think that you would request that which is most

precious to me.'

'Let me think over it again then, O king,' said Gopani-Kufa, 'and

to-morrow I will let you know if I change my mind.'

But the king was still much troubled, fearing the loss of Sipao, for

the Mirror had magic powers, so that he who owned it had but to ask

and his wish would be fulfilled; to it Insato owed all that he

possessed.

As soon as the king left him, Gopani-Kufa again took Zengi-mizi out of

his basket. 'Zengi-mizi,' he said, 'the king seems loth to grant my

request for the Mirror--is there not some other thing of equal value

for which I might ask?'

And the wasp answered: 'There is nothing in the world, O Gopani-Kufa,

which is of such value as this Mirror, for it is a Wishing Mirror, and

accomplishes the desires of him who owns it. If the king hesitates, go

to him the next day, and the day after, and in the end he will bestow

the Mirror upon you, for you saved his life.'

And it was even so. For three days Gopani-Kufa returned the same

answer to the king, and, at last, with tears in his eyes, Insato gave

him the Mirror, which was of polished iron, saying: 'Take Sipao,

then, O Gopani-Kufa, and may thy wishes come true. Go back now to

thine own country; Sipao will show you the way.'

Gopani-Kufa was greatly rejoiced, and, taking farewell of the king,

said to the Mirror:

'Sipao, Sipao, I wish to be back upon the Earth again!'

Instantly he found himself standing upon the upper earth; but, not

knowing the spot, he said again to the Mirror:

'Sipao, Sipao, I want the path to my own kraal!'

And behold! right before him lay the path!

* * * * *

When he arrived home he found his wife and daughter mourning for him,

for they thought that he had been eaten by lions; but he comforted

them, saying that while following a wounded antelope he had missed his

way and had wandered for a long time before he had found the path

again.

That night he asked Zengi-mizi, in whom sat the spirit of his father,

what he had better ask Sipao for next?

'Biz-z-z,' said the wasp, 'would you not like to be as great a chief

as Insato?'

And Gopani-Kufa smiled, and took the Mirror and said to it:

'Sipao, Sipao, I want a town as great as that of Insato, the King of

Pita; and I wish to be chief over it!'

Then all along the banks of the Zambesi river, which flowed near by,

sprang up streets of stone buildings, and their roofs shone with gold

and burnished iron like those in Pita; and in the streets men and

women were walking, and young boys were driving out the sheep and

cattle to pasture; and from the river came shouts and laughter from

the young men and maidens who had launched their canoes and were

fishing. And when the people of the new town beheld Gopani-Kufa they

rejoiced greatly and hailed him as chief.

[Illustration: SHASASA HIDES THE MIRROR]

Gopani-Kufa was now as powerful as Insato the King of the Reptiles had

been, and he and his family moved into the palace that stood high

above the other buildings right in the middle of the town. His wife

was too astonished at all these wonders to ask any questions, but his

daughter Shasasa kept begging him to tell her how he had suddenly

become so great; so at last he revealed the whole secret, and even

entrusted Sipao the Mirror to her care, saying:

'It will be safer with you, my daughter, for you dwell apart; whereas

men come to consult me on affairs of state, and the Mirror might be

stolen.'

Then Shasasa took the Magic Mirror and hid it beneath her pillow, and

after that for many years Gopani-Kufa ruled his people both well and

wisely, so that all men loved him, and never once did he need to ask

Sipao to grant him a wish.

* * * * *

Now it happened that, after many years, when the hair of Gopani-Kufa

was turning grey with age, there came white men to that country. Up

the Zambesi they came, and they fought long and fiercely with

Gopani-Kufa; but, because of the power of the Magic Mirror, he beat

them, and they fled to the sea-coast. Chief among them was one Rei, a

man of much cunning, who sought to discover whence sprang

Gopani-Kufa's power. So one day he called to him a trusty servant

named Butou, and said: 'Go you to the town and find out for me what is

the secret of its greatness.'

And Butou, dressing himself in rags, set out, and when he came to

Gopani-Kufa's town he asked for the chief; and the people took him

into the presence of Gopani-Kufa. When the white man saw him he

humbled himself, and said: 'O Chief! take pity on me, for I have no

home! When Rei marched against you I alone stood apart, for I knew

that all the strength of the Zambesi lay in your hands, and because I

would not fight against you he turned me forth into the forest to

starve!'

And Gopani-Kufa believed the white man's story, and he took him in and

feasted him, and gave him a house.

In this way the end came. For the heart of Shasasa, the daughter of

Gopani-Kufa, went forth to Butou the traitor, and from her he learnt

the secret of the Magic Mirror. One night, when all the town slept, he

felt beneath her pillow and, finding the Mirror, he stole it and fled

back with it to Rei, the chief of the white men.

So it befell that one day, as Gopani-Kufa was gazing at the river from

a window of the palace, he again saw the war-canoes of the white men;

and at the sight his spirit misgave him.

'Shasasa! my daughter!' he cried wildly, 'go fetch me the Mirror, for

the white men are at hand.'

'Woe is me, my father!' she sobbed. 'The Mirror is gone! For I loved

Butou the traitor, and he has stolen Sipao from me!'

Then Gopani-Kufa calmed himself, and drew out Zengi-mizi from its rush

basket.

'O spirit of my father!' he said, 'what now shall I do?'

'O Gopani-Kufa!' hummed the wasp, 'there is nothing now that can be

done, for the words of the antelope which you slew are being

fulfilled.'

'Alas! I am an old man--I had forgotten!' cried the chief. 'The words

of the antelope were true words--my reward shall be my own

undoing--they are being fulfilled!'

Then the white men fell upon the people of Gopani-Kufa and slew them

together with the chief and his daughter Shasasa; and since then all

the power of the Earth has rested in the hands of the white men, for

they have in their possession Sipao, the Magic Mirror.

_STORY OF THE KING WHO WOULD SEE PARADISE_

Once upon a time there was a king who, one day out hunting, came upon

a fakeer in a lonely place in the mountains. The fakeer was seated on

a little old bedstead reading the Koran, with his patched cloak thrown

over his shoulders.

The king asked him what he was reading; and he said he was reading

about Paradise, and praying that he might be worthy to enter there.

Then they began to talk, and, by-and-bye, the king asked the fakeer if

he could show him a glimpse of Paradise, for he found it very

difficult to believe in what he could not see. The fakeer replied that

he was asking a very difficult, and perhaps a very dangerous, thing;

but that he would pray for him, and perhaps he might be able to do it;

only he warned the king both against the dangers of his unbelief, and

against the curiosity which prompted him to ask this thing. However,

the king was not to be turned from his purpose, and he promised the

fakeer always to provide him with food, if he, in return, would pray

for him. To this the fakeer agreed, and so they parted.

Time went on, and the king always sent the old fakeer his food

according to his promise; but, whenever he sent to ask him when he was

going to show him Paradise, the fakeer always replied: 'Not yet, not

yet!'

[Illustration: NO ONE KNOWS WHAT WAS THERE SHOWN TO THE KING]

After a year or two had passed by, the king heard one day that the

fakeer was very ill--indeed, he was believed to be dying. Instantly he

hurried off himself, and found that it was really true, and that the

fakeer was even then breathing his last. There and then the king

besought him to remember his promise, and to show him a glimpse of

Paradise. The dying fakeer replied that if the king would come to his

funeral, and, when the grave was filled in, and everyone else was gone

away, he would come and lay his hand upon the grave, he would keep his

word, and show him a glimpse of Paradise. At the same time he implored

the king not to do this thing, but to be content to see Paradise when

God called him there. Still the king's curiosity was so aroused that

he would not give way.

Accordingly, after the fakeer was dead, and had been buried, he stayed

behind when all the rest went away; and then, when he was quite alone,

he stepped forward, and laid his hand upon the grave! Instantly the

ground opened, and the astonished king, peeping in, saw a flight of

rough steps, and, at the bottom of them, the fakeer sitting, just as

he used to sit, on his rickety bedstead, reading the Koran!

At first the king was so surprised and frightened that he could only

stare; but the fakeer beckoned to him to come down, so, mustering up

his courage, he boldly stepped down into the grave.

The fakeer rose, and, making a sign to the king to follow, walked a

few paces along a dark passage. Then he stopped, turned solemnly to

his companion, and, with a movement of his hand, drew aside as it were

a heavy curtain, and revealed--what? No one knows what was there shown

to the king, nor did he ever tell anyone; but, when the fakeer at

length dropped the curtain, and the king turned to leave the place, he

had had his glimpse of Paradise! Trembling in every limb, he staggered

back along the passage, and stumbled up the steps out of the tomb into

the fresh air again.

The dawn was breaking. It seemed odd to the king that he had been so

long in the grave. It appeared but a few minutes ago that he had

descended, passed along a few steps to the place where he had peeped

beyond the veil, and returned again after perhaps five minutes of that

wonderful view! And what _was_ it he had seen? He racked his brains

to remember, but he could not call to mind a single thing! How curious

everything looked too! Why, his own city, which by now he was

entering, seemed changed and strange to him! The sun was already up

when he turned into the palace gate and entered the public durbar

hall. It was full; and there upon the throne sat another king! The

poor king, all bewildered, sat down and stared about him. Presently a

chamberlain came across and asked him why he sat unbidden in the

king's presence. 'But _I_ am the king!' he cried.

'What king?' said the chamberlain.

'The true king of this country,' said he indignantly.

Then the chamberlain went away, and spoke to the king who sat on the

throne, and the old king heard words like 'mad,' 'age,' 'compassion.'

Then the king on the throne called him to come forward, and, as he

went, he caught sight of himself reflected in the polished steel

shields of the bodyguard, and started back in horror! He was old,

decrepit, dirty, and ragged! His long white beard and locks were

unkempt, and straggled all over his chest and shoulders. Only one sign

of royalty remained to him, and that was the signet ring upon his

right hand. He dragged it off with shaking fingers and held it up to

the king.

'Tell me who I am,' he cried; 'there is my signet, who once sat where

you sit--even yesterday!'

The king looked at him compassionately, and examined the signet with

curiosity. Then he commanded, and they brought out dusty records and

archives of the kingdom, and old coins of previous reigns, and

compared them faithfully. At last the king turned to the old man, and

said: 'Old man, such a king as this whose signet thou hast, reigned

seven hundred years ago; but he is said to have disappeared, none know

whither; where got you the ring?'

Then the old man smote his breast, and cried out with a loud

lamentation; for he understood that he, who was not content to wait

patiently to see the Paradise of the faithful, had been judged

already. And he turned and left the hall without a word, and went into

the jungle, where he lived for twenty-five years a life of prayer and

meditation, until at last the Angel of Death came to him, and

mercifully released him, purged and purified through his punishment.

(_A Pathan story told to Major Campbell._)

[Illustration: THE OLD KING SEES HIMSELF REFLECTED IN THE SHIELDS

OF THE BODYGUARD]

_HOW ISURO THE RABBIT TRICKED GUDU_

Far away in a hot country, where the forests are very thick and dark,

and the rivers very swift and strong, there once lived a strange pair

of friends. Now one of the friends was a big white rabbit named Isuro,

and the other was a tall baboon called Gudu, and so fond were they of

each other that they were seldom seen apart.

One day, when the sun was hotter even than usual, the rabbit awoke

from his midday sleep, and saw Gudu the baboon standing beside him.

'Get up,' said Gudu; 'I am going courting, and you must come with me.

So put some food in a bag, and sling it round your neck, for we may

not be able to find anything to eat for a long while.'

Then the rabbit rubbed his eyes, and gathered a store of fresh green

things from under the bushes, and told Gudu that he was ready for the

journey.

They went on quite happily for some distance, and at last they came to

a river with rocks scattered here and there across the stream.

'We can never jump those wide spaces if we are burdened with food,'

said Gudu, 'we must throw it into the river, unless we wish to fall in

ourselves.' And stooping down, unseen by Isuro, who was in front of

him, Gudu picked up a big stone, and threw it into the water with a

loud splash.

'It is your turn now,' he cried to Isuro. And with a heavy sigh, the

rabbit unfastened his bag of food, which fell into the river.

The road on the other side led down an avenue of trees, and before

they had gone very far Gudu opened the bag that lay hidden in the

thick hair about his neck, and began to eat some delicious-looking

fruit.

'Where did you get that from?' asked Isuro enviously.

[Illustration: GUDU DROPS A STONE INTO THE WATER]

'Oh, I found after all that I could get across the rocks quite easily,

so it seemed a pity not to keep my bag,' answered Gudu.

'Well, as you tricked me into throwing away mine, you ought to let me

share with you,' said Isuro. But Gudu pretended not to hear him, and

strode along the path.

By-and-bye they entered a wood, and right in front of them was a tree

so laden with fruit that its branches swept the ground. And some of

the fruit was still green, and some yellow. The rabbit hopped forward

with joy, for he was very hungry; but Gudu said to him: 'Pluck the

green fruit, you will find it much the best. I will leave it all for

you, as you have had no dinner, and take the yellow for myself.' So

the rabbit took one of the green oranges and began to bite it, but its

skin was so hard that he could hardly get his teeth through the rind.

[Illustration: {'WHERE DID YOU GET THAT FROM?' ASKED ISURO}]

'It does not taste at all nice,' he cried, screwing up his face; 'I

would rather have one of the yellow ones.'

'No! no! I really could not allow that,' answered Gudu. 'They would

only make you ill. Be content with the green fruit.' And as they were

all he could get, Isuro was forced to put up with them.

After this had happened two or three times, Isuro at last had his eyes

opened, and made up his mind that, whatever Gudu told him, he would do

exactly the opposite. However, by this time they had reached the

village where dwelt Gudu's future wife, and as they entered Gudu

pointed to a clump of bushes, and said to Isuro: 'Whenever I am

eating, and you hear me call out that my food has burnt me, run as

fast as you can and gather some of those leaves that they may heal my

mouth.'

The rabbit would have liked to ask him why he ate food that he knew

would burn him, only he was afraid, and just nodded in reply; but when

they had gone on a little further, he said to Gudu:

'I have dropped my needle; wait here a moment while I go and fetch

it.'

'Be quick then,' answered Gudu, climbing into a tree. And the rabbit

hastened back to the bushes, and gathered a quantity of the leaves,

which he hid among his fur, 'for,' thought he, 'if I get them now I

shall save myself the trouble of a walk by-and-bye.'

When he had plucked as many as he wanted he returned to Gudu, and they

went on together.

* * * * *

The sun was almost setting by the time they reached their journey's

end, and being very tired they gladly sat down by a well. Then Gudu's

betrothed, who had been watching for him, brought out a pitcher of

water--which she poured over them to wash off the dust of the

road--and two portions of food. But once again the rabbit's hopes were

dashed to the ground, for Gudu said hastily:

'The custom of the village forbids you to eat till I have finished.'

And Isuro did not know that Gudu was lying, and that he only wanted

more food. So he sat hungrily looking on, waiting till his friend had

had enough.

In a little while Gudu screamed loudly: 'I am burnt! I am burnt!'

though he was not burnt at all. Now, though Isuro had the leaves about

him, he did not dare to produce them at the last moment lest the

baboon should guess why he had stayed behind. So he just went round a

corner for a short time, and then came hopping back in a great hurry.

But, quick though he was, Gudu had been quicker still, and nothing

remained but some drops of water.

'How unlucky you are,' said Gudu, snatching the leaves; 'no sooner had

you gone than ever so many people arrived, and washed their hands, as

you see, and ate your portion.' But, though Isuro knew better than to

believe him, he said nothing, and went to bed hungrier than he had

ever been in his life.

Early next morning they started for another village, and passed on the

way a large garden where people were very busy gathering monkey-nuts.

'You can have a good breakfast at last,' said Gudu, pointing to a heap

of empty shells; never doubting but that Isuro would meekly take the

portion shown him, and leave the real nuts for himself. But what was

his surprise when Isuro answered:

'Thank you; I think I should prefer these.' And, turning to the

kernels, never stopped as long as there was one left. And the worst of

it was that, with so many people about, Gudu could not take the nuts

from him.

It was night when they reached the village where dwelt the mother of

Gudu's betrothed, who laid meat and millet porridge before them.

'I think you told me you were fond of porridge,' said Gudu; but Isuro

answered: 'You are mistaking me for somebody else, as I always eat

meat when I can get it.' And again Gudu was forced to be content with

the porridge, which he hated.

While he was eating it, however, a sudden thought darted into his

mind, and he managed to knock over a great pot of water which was

hanging in front of the fire, and put it quite out.

'_Now_,' said the cunning creature to himself, 'I shall be able in the

dark to steal his meat!' But the rabbit had grown as cunning as he,

and standing in a corner hid the meat behind him, so that the baboon

could not find it.

'O Gudu!' he cried, laughing aloud, 'it is you who have taught me how

to be clever.' And calling to the people of the house, he bade them

kindle the fire, for Gudu would sleep by it, but that he would pass

the night with some friends in another hut.

* * * * *

It was still quite dark when Isuro heard his name called very softly,

and, on opening his eyes, beheld Gudu standing by him. Laying his

finger on his nose, in token of silence, he signed to Isuro to get up

and follow him, and it was not until they were some distance from the

hut that Gudu spoke.

'I am hungry and want something to eat better than that nasty porridge

that I had for supper. So I am going to kill one of those goats, and

as you are a good cook you must boil the flesh for me.' The rabbit

nodded, and Gudu disappeared behind a rock, but soon returned dragging

the dead goat with him. The two then set about skinning it, after

which they stuffed the skin with dried leaves, so that no one would

have guessed it was not alive, and set it up in the middle of a clump

of bushes, which kept it firm on its feet. While he was doing this,

Isuro collected sticks for a fire, and when it was kindled, Gudu

hastened to another hut to steal a pot which he filled with water from

the river, and, planting two branches in the ground, they hung the pot

with the meat in it over the fire.

'It will not be fit to eat for two hours at least,' said Gudu, 'so we

can both have a nap.' And he stretched himself out on the ground, and

pretended to fall fast asleep, but, in reality, he was only waiting

till it was safe to take all the meat for himself. 'Surely I hear him

snore,' he thought; and he stole to the place where Isuro was lying on

a pile of wood, but the rabbit's eyes were wide open.

'How tiresome,' muttered Gudu, as he went back to his place; and

after waiting a little longer he got up, and peeped again, but still

the rabbit's pink eyes stared widely. If Gudu had only known, Isuro

was asleep all the time; but this he never guessed, and by-and-bye he

grew so tired with watching that he went to sleep himself. Soon after,

Isuro woke up, and he too felt hungry, so he crept softly to the pot

and ate all the meat, while he tied the bones together and hung them

in Gudu's fur. After that he went back to the wood-pile and slept

again.

[Illustration: HOW GUDU DANCED & THE BONES RATTLED]

In the morning the mother of Gudu's betrothed came out to milk her

goats, and on going to the bushes where the largest one seemed

entangled, she found out the trick. She made such lament that the

people of the village came running, and Gudu and Isuro jumped up also,

and pretended to be as surprised and interested as the rest. But they

must have looked guilty after all, for suddenly an old man pointed to

them, and cried:

'Those are the thieves.' And at the sound of his voice the big Gudu

trembled all over.

'How dare you say such things? I defy you to prove it,' answered Isuro

boldly. And he danced forward, and turned head over heels, and shook

himself before them all.

'I spoke hastily; you are innocent,' said the old man; 'but now let

the baboon do likewise.' And when Gudu began to jump the goat's bones

rattled, and the people cried: 'It is Gudu who is the goat-slayer!'

But Gudu answered:

'Nay, I did not kill your goat; it was Isuro, and he ate the meat, and

hung the bones round my neck. So it is he who should die!' And the

people looked at each other, for they knew not what to believe. At

length one man said:

'Let them both die, but they may choose their own deaths.'

Then Isuro answered:

'If we must die, put us in the place where the wood is cut, and heap

it up all round us, so that we cannot escape, and set fire to the

wood; and if one is burned and the other is not, then he that is

burned is the goat-slayer.'

And the people did as Isuro had said. But Isuro knew of a hole under

the wood-pile, and when the fire was kindled he ran into the hole, but

Gudu died there.

When the fire had burned itself out, and only ashes were left where

the wood had been, Isuro came out of his hole, and said to the people:

'Lo! did I not speak well? He who killed your goat is among those

ashes.'

(_Mashona Story._)

_IAN, THE SOLDIER'S SON_

There dwelt a knight in Grianaig of the land of the West, who had

three daughters, and for goodness and beauty they had not their like

in all the isles. All the people loved them, and loud was the weeping

when one day, as the three maidens sat on the rocks on the edge of the

sea, dipping their feet in the water, there arose a great beast from

under the waves and swept them away beneath the ocean. And none knew

whither they had gone, or how to seek them.

Now there lived in a town a few miles off a soldier who had three

sons, fine youths and strong, and the best players at shinny in that

country. At Christmastide that year, when families met together and

great feasts were held, Ian, the youngest of the three brothers, said:

'Let us have a match at shinny on the lawn of the knight of Grianaig,

for his lawn is wider and the grass smoother than ours.'

But the others answered:

'Nay, for he is in sorrow, and he will think of the games that we have

played there when his daughters looked on.'

'Let him be pleased or angry as he will,' said Ian; 'we will drive our

ball on his lawn to-day.'

And so it was done, and Ian won three games from his brothers. But the

knight looked out of his window, and was wroth; and bade his men bring

the youths before him. When he stood in his hall and beheld them, his

heart was softened somewhat; but his face was angry as he asked:

'Why did you choose to play shinny in front of my castle when you

knew full well that the remembrance of my daughters would come back to

me? The pain which you have made me suffer you shall suffer also.'

'Since we have done you wrong,' answered Ian, the youngest, 'build us

a ship, and we will go and seek your daughters. Let them be to

windward, or to leeward, or under the four brown boundaries of the

sea, we will find them before a year and a day goes by, and will carry

them back to Grianaig.'

In seven days the ship was built, and great store of food and wine

placed in her. And the three brothers put her head to the sea and

sailed away, and in seven days the ship ran herself on to a beach of

white sand, and they all went ashore. They had none of them ever seen

that land before, and looked about them. Then they saw that, a short

way from them, a number of men were working on a rock, with one man

standing over them.

'What place is this?' asked the eldest brother. And the man who was

standing by made answer:

'This is the place where dwell the three daughters of the knight of

Grianaig, who are to be wedded to-morrow to three giants.'

'How can we find them?' asked the young man again. And the overlooker

answered:

'To reach the daughters of the knight of Grianaig you must get into

this basket, and be drawn by a rope up the face of this rock.'

'Oh, that is easily done,' said the eldest brother, jumping into the

basket, which at once began to move--up, and up, and up--till he had

gone about half-way, when a fat black raven flew at him and pecked him

till he was nearly blind, so that he was forced to go back the way he

had come.

After that the second brother got into the creel; but he fared no

better, for the raven flew upon him, and he returned as his brother

had done.

[Illustration: THE THREE MAIDENS SITTING ON THE ROCKS]

[Illustration: THE KNIGHT AND THE RAVEN]

'Now it is my turn,' said Ian. But when he was half-way up the raven

set upon him also.

'Quick! quick!' cried Ian to the men who held the rope. 'Quick! quick!

or I shall be blinded!' And the men pulled with all their might, and

in another moment Ian was on top, and the raven behind him.

'Will you give me a piece of tobacco?' asked the raven, who was now

quite quiet.

'You rascal! Am I to give you tobacco for trying to peck my eyes out?'

answered Ian.

'That was part of my duty,' replied the raven; 'but give it to me, and

I will prove a good friend to you.' So Ian broke off a piece of

tobacco and gave it to him. The raven hid it under his wing, and then

went on: 'Now I will take you to the house of the big giant, where the

knight's daughter sits sewing, sewing, till even her thimble is wet

with tears.' And the raven hopped before him till they reached a large

house, the door of which stood open. They entered and passed through

one hall after the other, until they found the knight's daughter, as

the bird had said.

'What brought you here?' asked she. And Ian made answer:

'Why may I not go where you can go?'

'I was brought hither by a giant,' replied she.

'I know that,' said Ian; 'but tell me where the giant is, that I may

find him.'

'He is on the hunting hill,' answered she; 'and nought will bring him

home save a shake of the iron chain which hangs outside the gate. But,

there, neither to leeward, nor to windward, nor in the four brown

boundaries of the sea is there any man that can hold battle against

him, save only Ian, the soldier's son, and he is now but sixteen years

old, and how shall he stand against the giant?'

'In the land whence I have come there are many men with the strength

of Ian,' answered he. And he went outside and pulled at the chain,

but he could not move it, and fell on to his knees. At that he rose

swiftly, and gathering up his strength, he seized the chain, and this

time he shook it so that the link broke. And the giant heard it on the

hunting hill, and lifted his head, thinking--

'It sounds like the noise of Ian, the soldier's son,' said he; 'but as

yet he is only sixteen years old. Still, I had better look to it.' And

home he came.

* * * * *

'Are you Ian, the soldier's son?' he asked, as he entered the castle.

'No, of a surety,' answered the youth, who had no wish that they

should know him.

'Then who are you in the leeward, or in the windward, or in the four

brown boundaries of the sea, who are able to move my battle-chain?'

'That will be plain to you after wrestling with me as I wrestle with

my mother. And one time she got the better of me, and two times she

did not.'

So they wrestled, and twisted and strove with each other till the

giant forced Ian to his knee.

'You are the stronger,' said Ian; and the giant answered:

'All men know that!' And they took hold of each other once more, and

at last Ian threw the giant, and wished that the raven were there to

help him. No sooner had he wished his wish than the raven came.

'Put your hand under my right wing and you will find a knife sharp

enough to take off his head,' said the raven. And the knife was so

sharp that it cut off the giant's head with a blow.

'Now go and tell the daughter of the knight of Grianaig; but take heed

lest you listen to her words, and promise to go no further, for she

will seek to keep you. Instead, seek the middle daughter, and when you

have found her, you shall give me a piece of tobacco for reward.'

'Well have you earned the half of all I have,' answered Ian. But the

raven shook his head.

[Illustration: IAN FINDS THE YOUNGEST SISTER]

'You know only what has passed, and nothing of what lies before. If

you would not fail, wash yourself in clean water, and take balsam

from a vessel on top of the door, and rub it over your body, and

to-morrow you will be as strong as many men, and I will lead you to

the dwelling of the middle one.'

Ian did as the raven bade him, and in spite of the eldest daughter's

entreaties, he set out to seek her next sister. He found her where she

was seated sewing, her very thimble wet from the tears which she had

shed.

'What brought you here?' asked the second sister.

'Why may I not go where you can go?' answered he; 'and why are you

weeping?'

'Because in one day I shall be married to the giant who is on the

hunting hill.'

'How can I get him home?' asked Ian.

'Nought will bring him but a shake of that iron chain which hangs

outside the gate. But there is neither to leeward, nor to westward,

nor in the four brown boundaries of the sea, any man that can hold

battle with him, save Ian, the soldier's son, and he is now but

sixteen years of age.'

'In the land whence I have come there are many men with the strength

of Ian,' said he. And he went outside and pulled at the chain, but he

could not move it, and fell on his knees. At that he rose to his feet,

and gathering up his strength mightily, he seized the chain, and this

time he shook it so that three links broke. And the second giant heard

it on the hunting hill, and lifted his head, thinking--

'It sounds like the noise of Ian, the soldier's son,' said he; 'but as

yet he is only sixteen years old. Still, I had better look to it.' And

home he came.

* * * * *

'Are you Ian, the soldier's son?' he asked, as he entered the castle.

'No, of a surety,' answered Ian, who had no wish that this giant

should know him either; 'but I will wrestle with you as if I were he.'

[Illustration: IAN BREAKS THE GIANT'S CHAIN]

Then they seized each other by the shoulder, and the giant threw him

on his two knees. 'You are the stronger,' cried Ian; 'but I am not

beaten yet.' And rising to his feet, he threw his arms round the

giant.

Backwards and forwards they swayed, and first one was uppermost and

then the other; but at length Ian worked his leg round the giant's and

threw him to the ground. Then he called to the raven, and the raven

came flapping towards him, and said: 'Put your hand under my right

wing, and you will find there a knife sharp enough to take off his

head.' And sharp indeed it was, for with a single blow, the giant's

head rolled from his body.

'Now wash yourself with warm water, and rub yourself over with oil of

balsam, and to-morrow you will be as strong as many men. But beware of

the words of the knight's daughter, for she is cunning, and will try

to keep you at her side. So farewell; but first give me a piece of

tobacco.'

'That I will gladly,' answered Ian, breaking off a large bit.

He washed and rubbed himself that night, as the raven had told him,

and the next morning he entered the chamber where the knight's

daughter was sitting.

'Abide here with me,' she said, 'and be my husband. There is silver

and gold in plenty in the castle.' But he took no heed, and went on

his way till he reached the castle where the knight's youngest

daughter was sewing in the hall. And tears dropped from her eyes on to

her thimble.

'What brought you here?' asked she. And Ian made answer:

'Why may I not go where you can go?'

'I was brought hither by a giant.'

'I know that full well,' said he.

'Are you Ian, the soldier's son?' asked she again. And again he

answered:

'Yes, I am; but tell me, why you are weeping?'

'To-morrow the giant will return from the hunting hill, and I must

marry him,' she sobbed. And Ian took no heed, and only said: 'How can

I bring him home?'

'Shake the iron chain that hangs outside the gate.'

And Ian went out, and gave such a pull to the chain that he fell down

at full length from the force of the shake. But in a moment he was on

his feet again, and seized the chain with so much strength that four

links came off in his hand. And the giant heard him in the hunting

hill, as he was putting the game he had killed into a bag.

'In the leeward, or the windward, or in the four brown boundaries of

the sea, there is none who could give my chain a shake save only Ian,

the soldier's son. And if he has reached me, then he has left my two

brothers dead behind him.' With that he strode back to the castle, the

earth trembling under him as he went.

'Are you Ian, the soldier's son?' asked he. And the youth answered:

'No, of a surety.'

'Then who are you in the leeward, or the windward, or in the four

brown boundaries of the sea, who are able to shake my battle chain?

There is only Ian, the soldier's son, who can do this, and he is but

now sixteen years old.'

'I will show you who I am when you have wrestled with me,' said Ian.

And they threw their arms round each other, and the giant forced Ian

on to his knees; but in a moment he was up again, and crooking his leg

round the shoulders of the giant, he threw him heavily to the ground.

'Stumpy black raven, come quick!' cried he; and the raven came, and

beat the giant about the head with his wings, so that he could not get

up. Then he bade Ian take out a sharp knife from under his feathers,

which he carried with him for cutting berries, and Ian smote off the

giant's head with it. And so sharp was that knife that, with one blow,

the giant's head rolled on the ground.

'Rest now this night also,' said the raven, 'and to-morrow you shall

take the knight's three daughters to the edge of the rock that leads

to the lower world. But take heed to go down first yourself, and let

them follow after you. And before I go you shall give me a piece of

tobacco.'

'Take it all,' answered Ian, 'for well have you earned it.'

'No; give me but a piece. You know what is behind you, but you have no

knowledge of what is before you.' And picking up the tobacco in his

beak, the raven flew away.

So the next morning the knight's youngest daughter loaded asses with

all the silver and gold to be found in the castle, and she set out

with Ian the soldier's son for the house where her second sister was

waiting to see what would befall. She also had asses laden with

precious things to carry away, and so had the eldest sister, when they

reached the castle where she had been kept a prisoner. Together they

all rode to the edge of the rock, and then Ian lay down and shouted,

and the basket was drawn up, and in it they got one by one, and were

let down to the bottom. When the last one was gone, Ian should have

gone also, and left the three sisters to come after him; but he had

forgotten the raven's warning, and bade them go first, lest some

accident should happen. Only, he begged the youngest sister to let him

keep the little gold cap which, like the others, she wore on her head;

and then he helped them, each in her turn, into the basket.

* * * * *

Long he waited, but wait as he might, the basket never came back, for

in their joy at being free the knight's daughters had forgotten all

about Ian, and had set sail in the ship that had brought him and his

brothers to the land of Grianaig.

At last he began to understand what had happened to him, and while he

was taking counsel with himself what had best be done, the raven came

to him.

'You did not heed my words,' he said gravely.

'No, I did not, and therefore am I here,' answered Ian, bowing his

head.

'The past cannot be undone,' went on the raven. 'He that will not take

counsel will take combat. This night, you will sleep in the giant's

castle. And now you shall give me a piece of tobacco.'

'I will. But, I pray you, stay in the castle with me.'

'That I may not do, but on the morrow I will come.'

And on the morrow he did, and he bade Ian go to the giant's stable

where stood a horse to whom it mattered nothing if she journeyed over

land or sea.

'But be careful,' he added, 'how you enter the stable, for the door

swings without ceasing to and fro, and if it touches you, it will

cause you to cry out. I will go first and show you the way.'

'Go,' said Ian. And the raven gave a bob and a hop, and thought he was

quite safe, but the door slammed on a feather of his tail, and he

screamed loudly.

Then Ian took a run backwards, and a run forwards, and made a spring;

but the door caught one of his feet, and he fell fainting on the

stable floor. Quickly the raven pounced on him, and picked him up in

his beak and claws, and carried him back to the castle, where he laid

ointments on his foot till it was as well as ever it was.

'Now come out to walk,' said the raven, 'but take heed that you wonder

not at aught you may behold; neither shall you touch anything. And,

first, give me a piece of tobacco.'

Many strange things did Ian behold in that island, more than he had

thought for. In a glen lay three heroes stretched on their backs, done

to death by three spears that still stuck in their breasts. But he

kept his counsel and spake nothing, only he pulled out the spears,

and the men sat up and said:

'You are Ian the soldier's son, and a spell is laid upon you to travel

in our company, to the cave of the black fisherman.'

So together they went till they reached the cave, and one of the men

entered, to see what should be found there. And he beheld a hag,

horrible to look upon, seated on a rock, and before he could speak,

she struck him with her club, and changed him into a stone; and in

like manner she dealt with the other three. At the last Ian entered.

'These men are under spells,' said the witch, 'and alive they can

never be till you have anointed them with the water which you must

fetch from the island of Big Women. See that you do not tarry.' And

Ian turned away with a sinking heart, for he would fain have followed

the youngest daughter of the knight of Grianaig.

'You did not obey my counsel,' said the raven, hopping towards him,

'and so trouble has come upon you. But sleep now, and to-morrow you

shall mount the horse which is in the giant's stable, that can gallop

over sea and land. When you reach the island of Big Women, sixteen

boys will come to meet you, and will offer the horse food, and wish to

take her saddle and bridle from her. But see that they touch her not,

and give her food yourself, and yourself lead her into the stable, and

shut the door. And be sure that for every turn of the lock given by

the sixteen stable lads you give one. And now you shall break me off a

piece of tobacco.'

The next morning Ian arose, and led the horse from the stable, without

the door hurting him, and he rode her across the sea to the island of

Big Women, where the sixteen stable lads met him, and each one offered

to take his horse, and to feed her, and to put her into the stable.

But Ian only answered:

'I myself will put her in and will see to her.' And thus he did. And

while he was rubbing her sides the horse said to him:

'Every kind of drink will they offer you, but see you take none, save

whey and water only.' And so it fell out; and when the sixteen

stable-boys saw that he would drink nothing, they drank it all

themselves, and one by one lay stretched around the board.

Then Ian felt pleased in his heart that he had withstood their fair

words, and he forgot the counsel that the horse had likewise given him

saying:

'Beware lest you fall asleep, and let slip the chance of getting home

again'; for while the lads were sleeping sweet music reached his ears,

and he slept also.

When this came to pass the steed broke through the stable door, and

kicked him and woke him roughly.

'You did not heed my counsel,' said she; 'and who knows if it is not

too late to win over the sea? But first take that sword which hangs on

the wall, and cut off the heads of the sixteen grooms.'

Filled with shame at being once more proved heedless, Ian arose and

did as the horse bade him. Then he ran to the well and poured some of

the water into a leather bottle, and jumping on the horse's back rode

over the sea to the island where the raven was waiting for him.

'Lead the horse into the stable,' said the raven, 'and lie down

yourself to sleep, for to-morrow you must make the heroes to live

again, and must slay the hag. And have a care not to be so foolish

to-morrow as you were to-day.'

'Stay with me for company,' begged Ian; but the raven shook his head,

and flew away.

In the morning Ian awoke, and hastened to the cave where the old hag

was sitting, and he struck her dead as she was, before she could cast

spells on him. Next he sprinkled the water over the heroes, who came

to life again, and together they all journeyed to the other side of

the island, and there the raven met them.

'At last you have followed the counsel that was given you,' said the

raven; 'and now, having learned wisdom, you may go home again to

Grianaig. There you will find that the knight's two eldest daughters

are to be wedded this day to your two brothers, and the youngest to

the chief of the men at the rock. But her gold cap you shall give to

me, and, if you want it, you have only to think of me and I will bring

it to you. And one more warning I give you. If anyone asks you whence

you came, answer that you have come from behind you; and if anyone

asks you whither you are going, say that you are going before you.'

So Ian mounted the horse and set her face to the sea and her back to

the shore, and she was off, away and away till she reached the church

of Grianaig, and there, in a field of grass, beside a well of water,

he leaped down from his saddle.

'Now,' the horse said to him, 'draw your sword and cut off my head.'

But Ian answered:

'Poor thanks would that be for all the help I have had from you.'

'It is the only way that I can free myself from the spells that were

laid by the giants on me and the raven; for I was a girl and he was a

youth wooing me! So have no fears, but do as I have said.'

Then Ian drew his sword as she bade him, and cut off her head, and

went on his way without looking backwards. As he walked he saw a woman

standing at her house door. She asked him whence he had come, and he

answered as the raven had told him, that he came from behind. Next she

inquired whither he was going, and this time he made reply that he was

going on before him, but that he was thirsty and would like a drink.

'You are an impudent fellow,' said the woman; 'but you shall have a

drink.' And she gave him some milk, which was all she had till her

husband came home.

'Where is your husband?' asked Ian, and the woman answered him:

'He is at the knight's castle trying to fashion gold and silver into a

cap for the youngest daughter, like unto the caps that her sisters

wear, such as are not to be found in all this land. But, see, he is

returning; and now we shall hear how he has sped.'

At that the man entered the gate, and beholding a strange youth, he

said to him: 'What is your trade, boy?'

'I am a smith,' replied Ian. And the man answered:

'Good luck has befallen me, then, for you can help me to make a cap

for the knight's daughter.'

'You cannot make that cap, and you know it,' said Ian.

'Well, I must try,' replied the man, 'or I shall be hanged on a tree;

so it were a good deed to help me.'

'I will help you if I can,' said Ian; 'but keep the gold and silver

for yourself, and lock me into the smithy to-night, and I will work my

spells.' So the man, wondering to himself, locked him in.

* * * * *

As soon as the key was turned in the lock Ian wished for the raven,

and the raven came to him, carrying the cap in his mouth.

'Now take my head off,' said the raven. But Ian answered:

'Poor thanks were that for all the help you have given me.'

'It is the only thanks you can give me,' said the raven, 'for I was a

youth like yourself before spells were laid on me.'

Then Ian drew his sword and cut off the head of the raven, and shut

his eyes so that he might see nothing. After that he lay down and

slept till morning dawned, and the man came and unlocked the door and

shook the sleeper.

'Here is the cap,' said Ian drowsily, drawing it from under his

pillow. And he fell asleep again directly.

The sun was high in the heavens when he woke again, and this time he

beheld a tall, brown-haired youth standing by him.

'I am the raven,' said the youth, 'and the spells are broken. But now

get up and come with me.'

Then they two went together to the place where Ian had left the dead

horse; but no horse was there now, only a beautiful maiden.

'I am the horse,' she said, 'and the spells are broken'; and she and

the youth went away together.

In the meantime the smith had carried the cap to the castle, and bade

a servant belonging to the knight's youngest daughter bear it to her

mistress. But when the girl's eyes fell on it, she cried out:

'He speaks false; and if he does not bring me the man who really made

the cap I will hang him on the tree beside my window.'

The servant was filled with fear at her words, and hastened and told

the smith, who ran as fast as he could to seek for Ian. And when he

found him and brought him into the castle, the girl was first struck

dumb with joy; then she declared that she would marry nobody else. At

this some one fetched to her the knight of Grianaig, and when Ian had

told his tale, he vowed that the maiden was right, and that his elder

daughters should never wed with men who had not only taken glory to

themselves which did not belong to them, but had left the real doer of

the deeds to his fate.

And the wedding guests said that the knight had spoken well; and the

two elder brothers were fain to leave the country, for no one would

hold converse with them.

(From _Tales of the West Highlands_.)

_THE FOX AND THE WOLF_

At the foot of some high mountains there was, once upon a time, a

small village, and a little way off two roads met, one of them going

to the east and the other to the west. The villagers were quiet,

hard-working folk, who toiled in the fields all day, and in the

evening set out for home when the bell began to ring in the little

church. In the summer mornings they led out their flocks to pasture,

and were happy and contented from sunrise to sunset.

One summer night, when a round full moon shone down upon the white

road, a great wolf came trotting round the corner.

'I positively _must_ get a good meal before I go back to my den,' he

said to himself; 'it is nearly a week since I have tasted anything but

scraps, though perhaps no one would think it to look at my figure! Of

course there are plenty of rabbits and hares in the mountains; but

indeed one needs to be a greyhound to catch _them_, and I am not so

young as I was! If I could only dine off that fox I saw a fortnight

ago, curled up into a delicious hairy ball, I should ask nothing

better; I would have eaten her then, but unluckily her husband was

lying beside her, and one knows that foxes, great and small, run like

the wind. Really it seems as if there was not a living creature left

for me to prey upon but a wolf, and, as the proverb says: "One wolf

does not bite another." However, let us see what this village can

produce. I am as hungry as a schoolmaster.'

Now, while these thoughts were running through the mind of the wolf,

the very fox he had been thinking of was galloping along the other

road.

'The whole of this day I have listened to those village hens clucking

till I could bear it no longer,' murmured she as she bounded along,

hardly seeming to touch the ground. 'When you are fond of fowls and

eggs it is the sweetest of all music. As sure as there is a sun in

heaven I will have some of them this night, for I have grown so thin

that my very bones rattle, and my poor babies are crying for food.'

And as she spoke she reached a little plot of grass, where the two

roads joined, and flung herself under a tree to take a little rest,

and to settle her plans. At this moment the wolf came up.

At the sight of the fox lying within his grasp his mouth began to

water, but his joy was somewhat checked when he noticed how thin she

was. The fox's quick ears heard the sound of his paws, though they

were as soft as velvet, and turning her head she said politely:

'Is that you, neighbour? What a strange place to meet in! I hope you

are quite well?'

'Quite well as regards my health,' answered the wolf, whose eye

glistened greedily, 'at least, as well as one can be when one is very

hungry. But what is the matter with _you_? A fortnight ago you were as

plump as heart could wish!'

'I have been ill--very ill,' replied the fox, 'and what you say is

quite true. A worm is fat in comparison with me.'

'He is. Still, you are good enough for me; for "to the hungry no bread

is hard."'

'Oh, you are always joking! I'm sure you are not half as hungry as I!'

'That we shall soon see,' cried the wolf, opening his huge mouth and

crouching for a spring.

'What are you doing?' exclaimed the fox, stepping backwards.

'What am I doing? What I am _going_ to do is to make my supper off

you, in less time than a cock takes to crow.'

'Well, I suppose you must have your joke,' answered the fox lightly,

but never removing her eye from the wolf, who replied with a snarl

which showed all his teeth:

'I don't want to joke, but to eat!'

'But surely a person of your talents must perceive that you might eat

me to the very last morsel and never know that you had swallowed

anything at all!'

'In this world the cleverest people are always the hungriest,' replied

the wolf.

'Ah! how true that is; but----'

'I can't stop to listen to your "buts" and "yets,"' broke in the wolf

rudely; 'let us get to the point, and the point is that I want to eat

you and not talk to you.'

'Have you no pity for a poor mother?' asked the fox, putting her tail

to her eyes, but peeping slily out of them all the same.

'I am dying of hunger,' answered the wolf, doggedly; 'and you know,'

he added with a grin, 'that charity begins at home.'

'Quite so,' replied the fox; 'it would be unreasonable of me to object

to your satisfying your appetite at my expense. But if the fox resigns

herself to the sacrifice, the mother offers you one last request.'

'Then be quick and don't waste time, for I can't wait much longer.

What is it you want?'

'You must know,' said the fox, 'that in this village there is a rich

man who makes in the summer enough cheeses to last him for the whole

year, and keeps them in an old well, now dry, in his courtyard. By the

well hang two buckets on a pole that were used, in former days, to

draw up water. For many nights I have crept down to the place, and

have lowered myself in the bucket, bringing home with me enough

cheese to feed the children. All I beg of you is to come with me, and,

instead of hunting chickens and such things, I will make a good meal

off cheese before I die.'

'But the cheeses may be all finished by now?'

'If you were only to see the quantities of them!' laughed the fox.

'And even if they _were_ finished, there would always be _me_ to eat.'

'Well, I will come. Lead the way, but I warn you that if you try to

escape or play any tricks you are reckoning without your host--that is

to say, without my legs, which are as long as yours!'

* * * * *

All was silent in the village, and not a light was to be seen but that

of the moon, which shone bright and clear in the sky. The wolf and the

fox crept softly along, when suddenly they stopped and looked at each

other; a savoury smell of frying bacon reached their noses, and

reached the noses of the sleeping dogs, who began to bark greedily.

'Is it safe to go on, think you?' asked the wolf in a whisper. And the

fox shook her head.

'Not while the dogs are barking,' said she; 'someone might come out to

see if anything was the matter.' And she signed to the wolf to curl

himself up in the shadow beside her.

In about half an hour the dogs grew tired of barking, or perhaps the

bacon was eaten up and there was no more smell to excite them. Then

the wolf and the fox jumped up, and hastened to the foot of the wall.

'I am lighter than he is,' thought the fox to herself, 'and perhaps if

I make haste I can get a start, and jump over the wall on the other

side before he manages to spring over this one.' And she quickened her

pace. But if the wolf could not run he could jump, and with one bound

he was beside his companion.

'What were you going to do, comrade?'

'Oh, nothing,' replied the fox, much vexed at the failure of her

plan.

'I think if I were to take a bite out of your haunch you would jump

better,' said the wolf, giving a snap at her as he spoke. The fox drew

back uneasily.

'Be careful, or I shall scream,' she snarled. And the wolf,

understanding all that might happen if the fox carried out her threat,

gave a signal to his companion to leap on the wall, where he

immediately followed her.

Once on the top they crouched down and looked about them. Not a

creature was to be seen in the courtyard, and in the furthest corner

from the house stood the well, with its two buckets suspended from a

pole, just as the fox had described it. The two thieves dragged

themselves noiselessly along the wall till they were opposite the

well, and by stretching out her neck as far as it would go the fox was

able to make out that there was only very little water in the bottom,

but just enough to reflect the moon, big, and round and yellow.

'How lucky!' cried she to the wolf. 'There is a huge cheese about the

size of a mill wheel. Look! look! did you ever see anything so

beautiful!'

'Never!' answered the wolf, peering over in his turn, his eyes

glistening greedily, for he imagined that the moon's reflection in the

water was really a cheese.

'And now, unbeliever, what have you to say?' And the fox laughed

gently.

'That you are a woman--I mean a fox--of your word,' replied the wolf.

'Well, then, go down in that bucket and eat your fill,' said the fox.

'Oh, is that your game?' asked the wolf, with a grin. 'No! no! The

person who goes down in the bucket will be _you_! And if _you_ don't

go down your head will go without you!'

'Of course I will go down, with the greatest pleasure,' answered the

fox, who had expected the wolf's reply.

'And be sure you don't eat all the cheese, or it will be the worse for

you,' continued the wolf. But the fox looked up at him with tears in

her eyes.

'Farewell, suspicious one!' she said sadly. And climbed into the

bucket.

In an instant she had reached the bottom of the well, and found that

the water was not deep enough to cover her legs.

'Why, it is larger and richer than I thought,' cried she, turning

towards the wolf, who was leaning over the wall of the well.

'Then be quick and bring it up,' commanded the wolf.

'How can I, when it weighs more than I do?' asked the fox.

'If it is so heavy bring it in two bits, of course,' said he.

'But I have no knife,' answered the fox. 'You will have to come down

yourself, and we will carry it up between us.'

'And how am I to come down?' inquired the wolf.

'Oh, you are really very stupid! Get into the other bucket that is

nearly over your head.'

The wolf looked up, and saw the bucket hanging there, and with some

difficulty he climbed into it. As he weighed at least four times as

much as the fox the bucket went down with a jerk, and the other

bucket, in which the fox was seated, came to the surface.

As soon as he understood what was happening, the wolf began to speak

like an angry wolf, but was a little comforted when he remembered that

the cheese still remained to him.

'But where _is_ the cheese?' he asked of the fox, who in her turn was

leaning over the parapet watching his proceedings with a smile.

'The cheese?' answered the fox; 'why I am taking it home to my

babies, who are too young to get food for themselves.'

'Ah, traitor!' cried the wolf, howling with rage. But the fox was not

there to hear this insult, for she had gone off to a neighbouring

fowl-house, where she had noticed some fat young chickens the day

before.

'Perhaps I _did_ treat him rather badly,' she said to herself. 'But it

seems getting cloudy, and if there should be heavy rain the other

bucket will fill and sink to the bottom, and his will go up--at least

it _may_!'

(From _Cuentos Populares_, por Antonio de Trueba.)

_HOW IAN DIREACH GOT THE BLUE FALCON_

Long ago a king and queen ruled over the islands of the west, and they

had one son, whom they loved dearly. The boy grew up to be tall and

strong and handsome, and he could run and shoot, and swim and dive

better than any lad of his own age in the country. Besides, he knew

how to sail about, and sing songs to the harp, and during the winter

evenings, when everyone was gathered round the huge hall fire shaping

bows or weaving cloth, Ian Direach would tell them tales of the deeds

of his fathers.

So the time slipped by till Ian was almost a man, as they reckoned men

in those days, and then his mother the queen died. There was great

mourning throughout all the isles, and the boy and his father mourned

her bitterly also; but before the new year came the king had married

another wife, and seemed to have forgotten his old one. Only Ian

remembered.

On a morning when the leaves were yellow in the trees of the glen, Ian

slung his bow over his shoulder, and filling his quiver with arrows,

went on the hill in search of game. But not a bird was to be seen

anywhere, till at length a blue falcon flew past him, and raising his

bow he took aim at her. His eye was straight and his hand steady, but

the falcon's flight was swift, and he only shot a feather from her

wing. As the sun was now low over the sea he put the feather in his

game bag, and set out homewards.

'Have you brought me much game to-day?' asked his stepmother as he

entered the hall.

'Nought save this,' he answered, handing her the feather of the blue

falcon, which she held by the tip and gazed at silently. Then she

turned to Ian and said:

'I am setting it on you as crosses and as spells, and as the fall of

the year! That you may always be cold, and wet and dirty, and that

your shoes may ever have pools in them, till you bring me hither the

blue falcon on which that feather grew.'

'If it is spells you are laying, I can lay them too,' answered Ian

Direach; 'and you shall stand with one foot on the great house and

another on the castle, till I come back again, and your face shall be

to the wind, from wheresoever it shall blow.' Then he went away to

seek the bird, as his stepmother bade him; and, looking homewards from

the hill, he saw the queen standing with one foot on the great house,

and the other on the castle, and her face turned towards whatever

tempest should blow.

On he journeyed, over hills, and through rivers till he reached a wide

plain, and never a glimpse did he catch of the falcon. Darker and

darker it grew, and the small birds were seeking their nests, and at

length Ian Direach could see no more, and he lay down under some

bushes and sleep came to him. And in his dream a soft nose touched

him, and a warm body curled up beside him, and a low voice whispered

to him:

'Fortune is against you, Ian Direach; I have but the cheek and the

hoof of a sheep to give you, and with these you must be content.' With

that Ian Direach awoke, and beheld Gille Mairtean the fox.

Between them they kindled a fire, and ate their supper. Then Gille

Mairtean the fox bade Ian Direach lie down as before, and sleep till

morning. And in the morning, when he awoke, Gille Mairtean said:

'The falcon that you seek is in the keeping of the Giant of the Five

Heads, and the Five Necks, and the Five Humps. I will show you the

way to his house, and I counsel you to do his bidding, nimbly and

cheerfully, and, above all, to treat his birds kindly, for in this

manner he may give you his falcon to feed and care for. And when this

happens, wait till the giant is out of his house; then throw a cloth

over the falcon and bear her away with you. Only see that not one of

her feathers touches anything within the house, or evil will befall

you.'

'I thank you for your counsel,' spake Ian Direach, 'and I will be

careful to follow it.' Then he took the path to the giant's house.

* * * * *

'Who is there?' cried the giant, as someone knocked loudly on the door

of his house.

'One who seeks work as a servant,' answered Ian Direach.

'And what can you do?' asked the giant again.

'I can feed birds and tend pigs; I can feed and milk a cow, and also

goats and sheep, if you have any of these,' replied Ian Direach.

'Then enter, for I have great need of such a one,' said the giant.

So Ian Direach entered, and tended so well and carefully all the birds

and beasts, that the giant was better satisfied than ever he had been,

and at length he thought that he might even be trusted to feed the

falcon. And the heart of Ian was glad, and he tended the blue falcon

till his feathers shone like the sky, and the giant was well pleased;

and one day he said to him:

'For long my brothers on the other side of the mountain have besought

me to visit them, but never could I go for fear of my falcon. Now I

think I can leave her with you for one day, and before nightfall I

shall be back again.'

Scarcely was the giant out of sight next morning when Ian Direach

seized the falcon, and throwing a cloth over her head hastened with

her to the door. But the rays of the sun pierced through the

thickness of the cloth, and as they passed the doorpost she gave a

spring, and the tip of one of her feathers touched the post, which

gave a scream, and brought the giant back in three strides. Ian

Direach trembled as he saw him; but the giant only said:

'If you wish for my falcon you must first bring me the White Sword of

Light that is in the house of the Big Women of Dhiurradh.'

'And where do they live?' asked Ian. But the giant answered:

'Ah, that is for you to discover.' And Ian dared say no more, and

hastened down to the waste. There, as he hoped, he met his friend

Gille Mairtean the fox, who bade him eat his supper and lie down to

sleep. And when he had wakened next morning the fox said to him:

'Let us go down to the shore of the sea.' And to the shore of the sea

they went. And after they had reached the shore, and beheld the sea

stretching before them, and the isle of Dhiurradh in the midst of it,

the soul of Ian sank, and he turned to Gille Mairtean and asked why he

had brought him thither, for the giant, when he had sent him, had

known full well that without a boat he could never find the Big Women.

'Do not be cast down,' answered the fox, 'it is quite easy! I will

change myself into a boat, and you shall go on board me, and I will

carry you over the sea to the Seven Big Women of Dhiurradh. Tell them

that you are skilled in brightening silver and gold, and in the end

they will take you as servant, and if you are careful to please them

they will give you the White Sword of Light to make bright and

shining. But when you seek to steal it, take heed that its sheath

touches nothing inside the house, or ill will befall you.'

So Ian Direach did all things as the fox had told him, and the Seven

Big Women of Dhiurradh took him for their servant, and for six weeks

he worked so hard that his seven mistresses said to each other: 'Never

has a servant had the skill to make all bright and shining like this

one. Let us give him the White Sword of Light to polish like the

rest.'

Then they brought forth the White Sword of Light from the iron closet

where it hung, and bade him rub it till he could see his face in the

shining blade; and he did so. But one day, when the Seven Big Women

were out of the way, he bethought him that the moment had come for him

to carry off the sword, and, replacing it in its sheath, he hoisted it

on his shoulder. But just as he was passing through the door the tip

of the sheath touched it, and the door gave a loud shriek. And the Big

Women heard it, and came running back, and took the sword from him,

and said:

'If it is our sword you want, you must first bring us the bay colt of

the King of Erin.'

Humbled and ashamed, Ian Direach left the house, and sat by the side

of the sea, and soon Gille Mairtean the fox came to him.

'Plainly I see that you have taken no heed to my words, Ian Direach,'

spoke the fox. 'But eat first, and yet once more will I help you.'

At these words the heart returned again to Ian Direach, and he

gathered sticks and made a fire and ate with Gille Mairtean the fox,

and slept on the sand. At dawn next morning Gille Mairtean said to Ian

Direach:

'I will change myself into a ship, and will bear you across the seas

to Erin, to the land where dwells the king. And you shall offer

yourself to serve in his stable, and to tend his horses, till at

length so well content is he, that he gives you the bay colt to wash

and brush. But when you run away with her see that nought except the

soles of her hoofs touch anything within the palace gates, or it will

go ill with you.'

After he had thus counselled Ian Direach, the fox changed himself

into a ship, and set sail for Erin. And the king of that country gave

into Ian Direach's hands the care of his horses, and never before did

their skins shine so brightly or was their pace so swift. And the king

was well pleased, and at the end of a month he sent for Ian and said

to him:

'You have given me faithful service, and now I will entrust you with

the most precious thing that my kingdom holds.' And when he had

spoken, he led Ian Direach to the stable where stood the bay colt. And

Ian rubbed her and fed her, and galloped with her all round the

country, till he could leave one wind behind him and catch the other

which was in front.

* * * * *

'I am going away to hunt,' said the king one morning while he was

watching Ian tend the bay colt in her stable. 'The deer have come down

from the hill, and it is time for me to give them chase.' Then he went

away; and when he was no longer in sight, Ian Direach led the bay colt

out of the stable, and sprang on her back. But as they rode through

the gate, which stood between the palace and the outer world, the colt

swished her tail against the post, which shrieked loudly. In a moment

the king came running up, and he seized the colt's bridle.

'If you want my bay colt, you must first bring me the daughter of the

king of the Franks.'

With slow steps went Ian Direach down to the shore where Gille

Mairtean the fox awaited him.

'Plainly I see that you have not done as I bid you, nor will you ever

do it,' spoke Gille Mairtean the fox; 'but I will help you yet again.

For a third time I will change myself into a ship, and we will sail to

France.'

[Illustration: THE PRINCESS FINDS HERSELF A PRISONER ON THE SHIP]

And to France they sailed, and, as he was the ship, the Gille Mairtean

sailed where he would, and ran himself into the cleft of a rock, high

on to the land. Then he commanded Ian Direach to go up to the king's

palace, saying that he had been wrecked, that his ship was made

fast in a rock, and that none had been saved but himself only.

Ian Direach listened to the words of the fox, and he told a tale so

pitiful, that the king and queen, and the princess their daughter, all

came out to hear it. And when they had heard, nought would please them

except to go down to the shore and visit the ship, which by now was

floating, for the tide was up. Torn and battered was she, as if she

had passed through many dangers, yet music of a wondrous sweetness

poured forth from within.

'Bring hither a boat,' cried the princess, 'that I may go and see for

myself the harp that gives forth such music,' And a boat was brought,

and Ian Direach stepped in to row it to the side of the ship.

To the further side he rowed, so that none could see, and when he

helped the princess on board he gave a push to the boat, so that she

could not get back to it again. And the music sounded always sweeter,

though they could never see whence it came, and sought it from one

part of the vessel to another. When at last they reached the deck and

looked around them, nought of land could they see, or anything save

the rushing waters.

The princess stood silent, and her face grew grim. At last she said:

'An ill trick have you played me! What is this that you have done, and

whither are we going?'

'It is a queen you will be,' answered Ian Direach, 'for the king of

Erin has sent me for you, and in return he will give me his bay colt,

that I may take him to the Seven Big Women of Dhiurradh, in exchange

for the White Sword of Light. This I must carry to the giant of the

Five Heads and Five Necks and Five Humps, and in place of it, he will

bestow on me the blue falcon, which I have promised my stepmother, so

that she may free me from the spell which she has laid on me.'

[Illustration: THE SEVEN BIG WOMEN FALL OVER THE CRAG]

'I would rather be wife to you,' answered the princess.

* * * * *

By-and-by the ship sailed into a harbour on the coast of Erin, and

cast anchor there. And Gille Mairtean the fox bade Ian Direach tell

the princess that she must bide yet a while in a cave amongst the

rocks, for they had business on land, and after a while they would

return to her. Then they took a boat and rowed up to some rocks, and

as they touched the land Gille Mairtean changed himself into a fair

woman, who laughed and said to Ian Direach, 'I will give the king a

fine wife.'

Now the king of Erin had been hunting on the hill, and when he saw a

strange ship sailing towards the harbour, he guessed that it might be

Ian Direach, and left his hunting, and ran down the hill to the

stable. Hastily he led the bay colt from his stall, and put the golden

saddle on her back, and the silver bridle over his head, and with the

colt's bridle in his hand, he hurried to meet the princess.

'I have brought you the king of France's daughter,' said Ian Direach.

And the king of Erin looked at the maiden, and was well pleased, not

knowing that it was Gille Mairtean the fox. And he bowed low, and

besought her to do him the honour to enter the palace; and Gille

Mairtean, as he went in, turned to look back at Ian Direach, and

laughed.

In the great hall the king paused and pointed to an iron chest which

stood in a corner.

'In that chest is the crown that has waited for you for many years,'

he said, 'and at last you have come for it.' And he stooped down to

unlock the box.

In an instant Gille Mairtean the fox had sprung on his back, and gave

him such a bite that he fell down unconscious. Quickly the fox took

his own shape again, and galloped away to the sea shore, where Ian

Direach and the princess and the bay colt awaited him.

'I will become a ship,' cried Gille Mairtean, 'and you shall go on

board me.' And so he did, and Ian Direach led the bay colt into the

ship and the princess went after them, and they set sail for

Dhiurradh. The wind was behind them, and very soon they saw the rocks

of Dhiurradh in front. Then spoke Gille Mairtean the fox:

'Let the bay colt and the king's daughter hide in these rocks, and I

will change myself into the colt, and go with you to the house of the

Seven Big Women.'

Joy filled the hearts of the Big Women when they beheld the bay colt

led up to their door by Ian Direach. And the youngest of them fetched

the White Sword of Light, and gave it into the hands of Ian Direach,

who took off the golden saddle and the silver bridle, and went down

the hill with the sword to the place where the princess and the real

colt awaited him.

'Now we shall have the ride that we have longed for!' cried the Seven

Big Women; and they saddled and bridled the colt, and the eldest one

got upon the saddle. Then the second sister sat on the back of the

first, and the third on the back of the second, and so on for the

whole seven. And when they were all seated, the eldest struck her side

with a whip and the colt bounded forward. Over the moors she flew, and

round and round the mountains, and still the Big Women clung to her

and snorted with pleasure. At last she leapt high in the air, and came

down on top of Monadh the high hill, where the crag is. And she rested

her fore feet on the crag, and threw up her hind legs, and the Seven

Big Women fell over the crag, and were dead when they reached the

bottom. And the colt laughed, and became a fox again and galloped away

to the sea shore, where Ian Direach, and the princess and the real

colt and the White Sword of Light were waiting him.

* * * * *

'I will make myself into a ship,' said Gille Mairtean the fox, 'and

will carry you and the princess, and the bay colt and the White Sword

of Light, back to the land.' And when the shore was reached, Gille

Mairtean the fox took back his own shape, and spoke to Ian Direach in

this wise:

'Let the princess and the White Sword of Light, and the bay colt,

remain among the rocks, and I will change myself into the likeness of

the White Sword of Light, and you shall bear me to the giant, and,

instead, he will give you the blue falcon.' And Ian Direach did as the

fox bade him, and set out for the giant's castle. From afar the giant

beheld the blaze of the White Sword of Light, and his heart rejoiced;

and he took the blue falcon and put it in a basket, and gave it to Ian

Direach, who bore it swiftly away to the place where the princess, and

the bay colt, and the real Sword of Light were awaiting him.

[Illustration: HOW IAN DIREACH RETURNED HOME AND HOW HIS STEPMOTHER

FELL AS A BUNDLE OF STICKS]

So well content was the giant to possess the sword he had coveted for

many a year, that he began at once to whirl it through the air, and to

cut and slash with it. For a little while Gille Mairtean let the giant

play with him in this manner; then he turned in the giant's hand, and

cut through the Five Necks, so that the Five Heads rolled on the

ground. Afterwards he went back to Ian Direach and said to him:

'Saddle the colt with the golden saddle, and bridle her with the

silver bridle, and sling the basket with the falcon over your

shoulders, and hold the White Sword of Light with its back against

your nose. Then mount the colt, and let the princess mount behind you,

and ride thus to your father's palace. But see that the back of the

sword is ever against your nose, else when your stepmother beholds

you, she will change you into a dry faggot. If, however, you do as I

bid you, she will become herself a bundle of sticks.'

Ian Direach hearkened to the words of Gille Mairtean, and his

stepmother fell as a bundle of sticks before him; and he set fire to

her, and was free from her spells for ever. After that he married the

princess, who was the best wife in all the islands of the West.

Henceforth he was safe from harm, for had he not the bay colt who

could leave one wind behind her and catch the other wind, and the blue

falcon to bring him game to eat, and the White Sword of Light to

pierce through his foes?

And Ian Direach knew that all this he owed to Gille Mairtean the fox,

and he made a compact with him that he might choose any beast out of

his herds, whenever hunger seized him, and that henceforth no arrow

should be let fly at him or at any of his race. But Gille Mairtean the

fox would take no reward for the help he had given to Ian Direach,

only his friendship. Thus all things prospered with Ian Direach till

he died.

(From _Tales of the West Highlands_.)

_THE UGLY DUCKLING_

It was summer in the land of Denmark, and though for most of the year

the country looks flat and ugly, it was beautiful now. The wheat was

yellow, the oats were green, the hay was dry and delicious to roll in,

and from the old ruined house which nobody lived in, down to the edge

of the canal, was a forest of great burdocks, so tall that a whole

family of children might have dwelt in them and never have been found

out.

It was under these burdocks that a duck had built herself a warm nest,

and was now sitting all day on six pretty eggs. Five of them were

white, but the sixth, which was larger than the others, was of an ugly

grey colour. The duck was always puzzled about that egg, and how it

came to be so different from the rest. Other birds might have thought

that when the duck went down in the morning and evening to the water

to stretch her legs in a good swim, some lazy mother might have been

on the watch, and have popped her egg into the nest. But ducks are not

clever at all, and are not quick at counting, so this duck did not

worry herself about the matter, but just took care that the big egg

should be as warm as the rest.

This was the first set of eggs that the duck had ever laid, and, to

begin with, she was very pleased and proud, and laughed at the other

mothers, who were always neglecting their duties to gossip with each

other or to take little extra swims besides the two in the morning and

evening that were necessary for health. But at length she grew tired

of sitting there all day. 'Surely eggs take longer hatching than they

did,' she said to herself; and she pined for a little amusement also.

Still, she knew that if she left her eggs and the ducklings in them to

die none of her friends would ever speak to her again; so there she

stayed, only getting off the eggs several times a day to see if the

shells were cracking--which may have been the very reason why they did

not crack sooner.

She had looked at the eggs at least a hundred and fifty times, when,

to her joy, she saw a tiny crack on two of them, and scrambling back

to the nest she drew the eggs closer the one to the other, and never

moved for the whole of that day. Next morning she was rewarded by

noticing cracks in the whole five eggs, and by midday two little

yellow heads were poking out from the shells. This encouraged her so

much that, after breaking the shells with her bill, so that the little

creatures could get free of them, she sat steadily for a whole night

upon the nest, and before the sun arose the five white eggs were

empty, and ten pairs of eyes were gazing out upon the green world.

Now the duck had been carefully brought up, and did not like dirt,

and, besides, broken egg shells are not at all comfortable things to

sit or walk upon; so she pushed the rest out over the side, and felt

delighted to have some company to talk to till the big egg hatched.

But day after day went on, and the big egg showed no signs of

cracking, and the duck grew more and more impatient, and began to wish

to consult her husband, who never came.

'I can't think what is the matter with it,' the duck grumbled to her

neighbour who had called in to pay her a visit. 'Why I could have

hatched two broods in the time that this one has taken!'