FOOTNOTES:

[1] Translated from two Persian MSS. in the possession of the British

Museum and the India Office, and adapted, with some reservations, by

Annette S. Beveridge.

[2] Jessamine, ruby-decked.

[3] Life-giving diamond.

[4] World-gripper.

[5] Love-enkindler.

[6] Rose-cheek.

[7] Heartsease.

[8] Elias.

[9] Pleasure.

[10] Thirty-birds.

[11] Pomp and Pride.

[12] Of happy omen.

_BALL-CARRIER AND THE BAD ONE_

Far, far in the forest there were two little huts, and in each of them

lived a man who was a famous hunter, his wife, and three or four

children. Now the children were forbidden to play more than a short

distance from the door, as it was known that, away on the other side

of the wood near the great river, there dwelt a witch who had a magic

ball that she used as a means of stealing children.

Her plan was a very simple one, and had never yet failed. When she

wanted a child she just flung her ball in the direction of the child's

home, and however far off it might be, the ball was sure to reach it.

Then, as soon as the child saw it, the ball would begin rolling slowly

back to the witch, just keeping a little ahead of the child, so that

he always thought that he could catch it the next minute. But he never

did, and, what was more, his parents never saw him again.

* * * * *

Of course you must not suppose that all the fathers and mothers who

had lost children made no attempts to find them, but the forest was so

large, and the witch was so cunning in knowing exactly where they were

going to search, that it was very easy for her to keep out of the way.

Besides, there was always the chance that the children might have been

eaten by wolves, of which large herds roamed about in winter.

[Illustration: THE BOY IN THE WITCH'S HUT]

One day the old witch happened to want a little boy, so she threw her

ball in the direction of the hunters' huts. A child was standing

outside, shooting at a mark with his bow and arrows, but the moment

he saw the ball, which was made of glass whose blues and greens and

whites, all frosted over, kept changing one into the other, he flung

down his bow, and stooped to pick the ball up. But as he did so it

began to roll very gently downhill. The boy could not let it roll

away, when it was so close to him, so he gave chase. The ball seemed

always within his grasp, yet he could never catch it; it went quicker

and quicker, and the boy grew more and more excited. That time he

almost touched it--no, he missed it by a hair's breadth! Now, surely,

if he gave a spring he could get in front of it! He sprang forward,

tripped and fell, and found himself in the witch's house!

'Welcome! welcome! grandson!' said she; 'get up and rest yourself, for

you have had a long walk, and I am sure you must be tired!' So the boy

sat down, and ate some food which she gave him in a bowl. It was quite

different from anything he had tasted before, and he thought it was

delicious. When he had eaten up every bit, the witch asked him if he

had ever fasted.

'No,' replied the boy, 'at least I have been obliged to sometimes, but

never if there was any food to be had.'

'You will have to fast if you want the spirits to make you strong and

wise, and the sooner you begin the better.'

'Very well,' said the boy, 'what do I do first?'

'Lie down on those buffalo skins by the door of the hut,' answered

she; and the boy lay down, and the squirrels and little bears and the

birds came and talked to him.

At the end of ten days the old woman came to him with a bowl of the

same food that he had eaten before.

'Get up, my grandson, you have fasted long enough. Have the good

spirits visited you, and granted you the strength and wisdom that you

desire?'

'Some of them have come, and have given me a portion of both,'

answered the boy, 'but many have stayed away from me.'

'Then,' said she, 'you must fast ten days more.'

So the boy lay down again on the buffalo skins, and fasted for ten

days, and at the end of that time he turned his face to the wall, and

fasted for twenty days longer. At length the witch called to him, and

said:

'Come and eat something, my grandson.' At the sound of her voice the

boy got up and ate the food she gave him. When he had finished every

scrap she spoke as before: 'Tell me, my grandson, have not the good

spirits visited you all these many days that you have fasted?'

'Not all, grandmother,' answered he; 'there are still some who keep

away from me and say that I have not fasted long enough.'

'Then you must fast again,' replied the old woman, 'and go on fasting

till you receive the gifts of _all_ the good spirits. Not one must be

missing.'

The boy said nothing, but lay down for the third time on the buffalo

skins, and fasted for twenty days more. And at the end of that time

the witch thought he was dead, his face was so white and his body so

still. But when she had fed him out of the bowl he grew stronger, and

soon was able to sit up.

'You have fasted a long time,' said she, 'longer than anyone ever

fasted before. Surely the good spirits must be satisfied _now_?'

'Yes, grandmother,' answered the boy, 'they have all come, and have

given me their gifts.'

This pleased the old woman so much that she brought him another basin

of food, and while he was eating it she talked to him, and this is

what she said: 'Far away, on the other side of the great river, is the

home of the Bad One. In his house is much gold, and what is more

precious even than the gold, a little bridge, which lengthens out when

the Bad One waves his hand, so that there is no river or sea that he

cannot cross. Now I want that bridge and some of the gold for myself,

and that is the reason that I have stolen so many boys by means of my

ball. I have tried to teach them how to gain the gifts of the good

spirits, but none of them would fast long enough, and at last I had to

send them away to perform simple, easy little tasks. But you have

been strong and faithful, and you can do this thing if you listen to

what I tell you! When you reach the river tie this ball to your foot,

and it will take you across--you cannot manage it in any other way.

But do not be afraid; trust to the ball, and you will be quite safe!'

The boy took the ball and put it in a bag. Then he made himself a club

and a bow, and some arrows which would fly further than anyone else's

arrows, because of the strength the good spirits had given him. They

had also bestowed on him the power of changing his shape, and had

increased the quickness of his eyes and ears so that nothing escaped

him. And in some way or other they made him understand that if he

needed more help they would give it to him.

When all these things were ready the boy bade farewell to the witch

and set out. He walked through the forest for several days without

seeing anyone but his friends the squirrels and the bears and the

birds, but though he stopped and spoke to them all, he was careful not

to let them know where he was going.

At last, after many days, he came to the river, and beyond it he

noticed a small hut standing on a hill which he guessed to be the home

of the Bad One. But the stream flowed so quickly that he could not see

how he was ever to cross it, and in order to test how swift the

current really was, he broke a branch from a tree and threw it in. It

seemed hardly to touch the water before it was carried away, and even

his magic sight could not follow it. He could not help feeling

frightened, but he hated giving up anything that he had once

undertaken, and, fastening the ball on his right foot, he ventured on

the river. To his surprise he was able to stand up; then a panic

seized him, and he scrambled up the bank again. In a minute or two he

plucked up courage to go a little further into the river, but again

its width frightened him, and a second time he turned back. However,

he felt rather ashamed of his cowardice, as it was quite clear that

his ball _could_ support him, and on his third trial he got safely to

the other side.

Once there he replaced the ball in the bag, and looked carefully round

him. The door of the Bad One's hut was open, and he saw that the

ceiling was supported by great wooden beams, from which hung the bags

of gold and the little bridge. He saw, too, the Bad One sitting in the

midst of his treasures eating his dinner, and drinking something out

of a horn. It was plain to the boy that he must invent some plan of

getting the Bad One out of the way, or else he would never be able to

steal the gold or the bridge.

What should he do? Give horrible shrieks as if he were in pain? But

the Bad One would not care whether he were murdered or not! Call him

by his name? But the Bad One was very cunning, and would suspect some

trick. He must try something better than that! Then suddenly an idea

came to him, and he gave a little jump of joy. 'Oh, how stupid of me

not to think of that before!' said he, and he wished with all his

might that the Bad One should become very hungry--so hungry that he

could not wait a moment for fresh food to be brought to him. And sure

enough at that instant the Bad One called out to his servant, 'You did

not bring food that would satisfy a sparrow. Fetch some more at once,

for I am perfectly starving.' Then, without giving the woman time to

go to the larder, he got up from his chair, and rolled, staggering

from hunger, towards the kitchen.

Directly the door had closed on the Bad One the boy ran in, pulled

down a bag of gold from the beam, and tucked it under his left arm.

Next he unhooked the little bridge and put it under his right. He did

not try to escape, as most boys of his age would have done, for the

wisdom put into his mind by the good spirits taught him that before he

could reach the river and make use of the bridge the Bad One would

have tracked him by his footsteps and been upon him. So, making

himself very small and thin, he hid himself behind a pile of buffalo

skins in the corner, first tearing a slit through one of them, so that

he could see what was going on.

He had hardly settled himself when the servant entered the room, and,

as she did so, the last bag of gold on the beam fell to the

ground--for they had begun to fall directly the boy had taken the

first one. She cried to her master that someone had stolen both the

bag and the bridge, and the Bad One rushed in, mad with anger, and

bade her go and seek for footsteps outside, that they might find out

where the thief had gone. In a few minutes she returned, saying that

he must be in the house, as she could not see any footsteps leading to

the river, and began to move all the furniture in the room, without

discovering Ball-Carrier.

'But he _must_ be here somewhere,' she said to herself, examining for

the second time the pile of buffalo skins; and Ball-Carrier, knowing

that he could not possibly escape now, hastily wished that the Bad One

should be unable to eat any more food at present.

'Ah, there is a slit in this one,' cried the servant, shaking the

skin; 'and here he is.' And she pulled out Ball-Carrier, looking so

lean and small that he would hardly have made a mouthful for a

sparrow.

'Was it you who took my gold and bridge?' asked the Bad One.

'Yes,' answered Ball-Carrier, 'it was I who took them.'

The Bad One made a sign to the woman, who inquired where he had hidden

them. He lifted his left arm where the gold was, and she picked up a

knife and scraped his skin so that no gold should be left sticking to

it.

'What have you done with the bridge?' said she. And he lifted his

right arm, from which she took the bridge, while the Bad One looked

on, well pleased. 'Be sure that he does not run away,' chuckled he.

'Boil some water, and get him ready for cooking, while I go and

invite my friends the water-demons to the feast.'

[Illustration: THE DEATH OF THE BAD ONE]

The woman seized Ball-Carrier between her finger and thumb, and was

going to carry him to the kitchen, when the boy spoke:

'I am very lean and small now,' he said, 'hardly worth the trouble of

cooking; but if you were to keep me two days, and gave me plenty of

food, I should get big and fat. As it is, your friends the

water-demons would think you meant to laugh at them, when they found

that _I_ was the feast.'

'Well, perhaps you are right,' answered the Bad One; 'I will keep you

for two days.' And he went out to visit the water-demons.

Meanwhile the servant, whose name was Lung-Woman, led him into a

little shed, and chained him up to a ring in the wall. But food was

given him every hour, and at the end of two days he was as fat and big

as a Christmas turkey, and could hardly move his head from one side to

the other.

'He will do now,' said the Bad One, who came constantly to see how he

was getting on. 'I shall go and tell the water-demons that we expect

them to dinner to-night. Put the kettle on the fire, but be sure on no

account to taste the broth.'

Lung-Woman lost no time in obeying her orders. She built up the fire,

which had got very low, filled the kettle with water, and passing a

rope which hung from the ceiling through the handle, swung it over the

flames. Then she brought in Ball-Carrier, who, seeing all these

preparations, wished that as long as _he_ was in the kettle the water

might not really boil, though it would hiss and bubble, and also, that

the spirits would turn the water into fat.

The kettle soon began to sing and bubble, and Ball-Carrier was lifted

in. Very soon the fat which was to make the sauce rose to the surface,

and Ball-Carrier, who was bobbing about from one side to the other,

called out that Lung-Woman had better taste the broth, as he thought

that some salt should be added to it. The servant knew quite well that

her master had forbidden her to do anything of the kind, but when once

the idea was put into her head, she found the smell from the kettle so

delicious that she unhooked a long ladle from the wall and plunged it

into the kettle.

'You will spill it all, if you stand so far off,' said the boy; 'why

don't you come a little nearer?' And as she did so he cried to the

spirits to give him back his usual size and strength and to make the

water scalding hot. Then he gave the kettle a kick, which upset all

the boiling water upon her, and jumping over her body he seized once

more the gold and the bridge, picked up his club and bow and arrows,

and after setting fire to the Bad One's hut, ran down to the river,

which he crossed safely by the help of the bridge.

* * * * *

The hut, which was made of wood, was burned to the ground before the

Bad One came back with a large crowd of water-demons. There was not a

sign of anyone or anything, so he started for the river, where he saw

Ball-Carrier sitting quietly on the other side. Then the Bad One knew

what had happened, and after telling the water-demons that there would

be no feast after all, he called to Ball-Carrier, who was eating an

apple.

'I know your name now,' he said, 'and as you have ruined me, and I am

not rich any more, will you take me as your servant?'

'Yes, I will, though you have tried to kill me,' answered

Ball-Carrier, throwing the bridge across the water as he spoke. But

when the Bad One was in the midst of the stream, the boy wished it to

become small; and the Bad One fell into the water and was drowned, and

the world was rid of him.

[_U.S. Bureau of Ethnology._]

_HOW BALL-CARRIER FINISHED HIS TASK_

After Ball-Carrier had managed to drown the Bad One so that he could

not do any more mischief, he forgot the way to his grandmother's

house, and could not find it again, though he searched everywhere.

During this time he wandered into many strange places, and had many

adventures; and one day he came to a hut where a young girl lived. He

was tired and hungry and begged her to let him in and rest, and he

stayed a long while, and the girl became his wife. One morning he saw

two children playing in front of the hut, and went out to speak to

them. But as soon as they saw him they set up cries of horror and ran

away. 'They are the children of my sister who has been on a long

journey,' replied his wife, 'and now that she knows you are my husband

she wants to kill you.'

'Oh, well, let her try,' replied Ball-Carrier. 'It is not the first

time people have wished to do that. And here I am still, you see!'

'Be careful,' said the wife, 'she is very cunning.' But at this moment

the sister-in-law came up.

'How do you do, brother-in-law? I have heard of you so often that I am

very glad to meet you. I am told that you are more powerful than any

man on earth, and as I am powerful too, let us try which is the

strongest.'

'That will be delightful,' answered he. 'Suppose we begin with a short

race, and then we will go on to other things.'

'That will suit me very well,' replied the woman, who was a witch.

'And let us agree that the one who wins shall have the right to kill

the other.'

'Oh, certainly,' said Ball-Carrier; 'and I don't think we shall find a

flatter course than the prairie itself--no one knows how many miles it

stretches. We will run to the end and back again.'

This being settled they both made ready for the race, and Ball-Carrier

silently begged the good spirits to help him, and not to let him fall

into the hands of this wicked witch.

'When the sun touches the trunk of that tree we will start,' said she,

as they both stood side by side. But with the first step Ball-Carrier

changed himself into a wolf and for a long way kept ahead. Then

gradually he heard her creeping up behind him, and soon she was in

front. So Ball-Carrier took the shape of a pigeon and flew rapidly

past her, but in a little while she was in front again, and the end of

the prairie was in sight. 'A crow can fly faster than a pigeon,'

thought he, and as a crow he managed to pass her and held his ground

so long that he fancied she was quite beaten. The witch began to be

afraid of it too, and putting out all her strength slipped past him.

Next he put on the shape of a hawk, and in this form he reached the

bounds of the prairie, he and the witch turning homewards at the

moment.

Bird after bird he tried, but every time the witch gained on him and

took the lead. At length the goal was in sight, and Ball-Carrier knew

that unless he could get ahead now he would be killed before his own

door, under the eyes of his wife. His eyes had grown dim from fatigue,

his wings flapped wearily and hardly bore him along, while the witch

seemed as fresh as ever. What bird was there whose flight was swifter

than his? Would not the good spirits tell him? Ah, of course he knew;

why had he not thought of it at first and spared himself all that

fatigue? And the next instant a humming bird, dressed in green and

blue, flashed past the woman and entered the house. The witch came

panting up, furious at having lost the race which she felt certain of

winning; and Ball-Carrier, who had by this time changed back into his

own shape, struck her on the head and killed her.

[Illustration: THE WITCH OUTSTRIPS THE WOLF]

For a long while Ball-Carrier was content to stay quietly at home with

his wife and children, for he was tired of adventures, and only did

enough hunting to supply the house with food. But one day he happened

to eat some poisonous berries that he had found in the forest, and

grew so ill that he felt he was going to die.

'When I am dead do not bury me in the earth,' he said, 'but put me

over there, among that clump of trees.' So his wife and her three

children watched by him as long as he was alive, and after he was dead

they took him up and laid the body on a platform of stakes which they

had prepared in the grove. And as they returned weeping to the hut

they caught a glimpse of the ball rolling away down the path back to

the old grandmother. One of the sons sprang forward to stop it, for

Ball-Carrier had often told them the tale of how it had helped him to

cross the river, but it was too quick for him, and they had to content

themselves with the war club and bow and arrows, which were put

carefully away.

By-and-by some travellers came past, and the chief among them asked

leave to marry Ball-Carrier's daughter. The mother said she must have

a little time to think over it, as her daughter was still very young;

so it was settled that the man should go away for a month with his

friends, and then come back to see if the girl was willing.

Now ever since Ball-Carrier's death the family had been very poor, and

often could not get enough to eat. One morning the girl, who had had

no supper and no breakfast, wandered off to look for cranberries, and

though she was quite near home was astonished at noticing a large hut,

which certainly had not been there when last she had come that way.

No one was about, so she ventured to peep in, and her surprise was

increased at seeing, heaped up in one corner, a quantity of food of

all sorts, while a little robin redbreast stood perched on a beam

looking down upon her.

'It is my father, I am sure,' she cried; and the bird piped in answer.

From that day, whenever they wanted food they went to the hut, and

though the robin could not speak, he would hop on their shoulders and

let them feed him with the food they knew he liked best.

When the man came back he found the girl looking so much prettier and

fatter than when he had left her, that he insisted that they should be

married on the spot. And the mother, who did not know how to get rid

of him, gave in.

The husband spent all his time in hunting, and the family had never

had so much meat before; but the man, who had seen for himself how

poor they were, noticed with amazement that they did not seem to care

about it, or to be hungry. 'They must get food from somewhere,' he

thought, and one morning, when he pretended to be going out to hunt,

he hid in a thicket to watch. Very soon they all left the house

together, and walked to the other hut, which the girl's husband saw

for the first time, as it was hid in a hollow. He followed, and

noticed that each one went up to the redbreast, and shook him by the

claw; and he then entered boldly and shook the bird's claw too. The

whole party afterwards sat down to dinner, after which they all

returned to their own hut.

The next day the husband declared that he was very ill, and could not

eat anything; but this was only a pretence so that he might get what

he wanted. The family were all much distressed, and begged him to tell

them what food he fancied.

'Oh! I could not eat any food,' he answered every time, and at each

answer his voice grew fainter and fainter, till they thought he

would die from weakness before their eyes.

[Illustration: 'WAKE UP, MY GRANDSON, IT IS TIME TO GO HOME']

'There must be _some_ thing you could take, if you would only say what

it is,' implored his wife.

'No, nothing, nothing; except, perhaps--but of course that is

impossible!'

'No, I am sure it is not,' replied she; 'you shall have it, I

promise--only tell me what it is.'

'I think--but I could not ask you to do such a thing. Leave me alone,

and let me die quietly.'

'You shall _not_ die,' cried the girl, who was very fond of her

husband, for he did not beat her as most girls' husbands did.

'Whatever it is, I will manage to get it for you.'

'Well, then, I _think_, if I had that--redbreast, nicely roasted, I

could eat a little bit of his wing!'

* * * * *

The wife started back in horror at such a request; but the man turned

his face to the wall, and took no notice, as he thought it was better

to leave her to herself for a little.

Weeping and wringing her hands, the girl went down to her mother. The

brothers were very angry when they heard the story, and declared that,

if any one were to die, it certainly should not be the robin. But all

that night the man seemed getting weaker and weaker, and at last,

quite early, the wife crept out, and stealing to the hut, killed the

bird, and brought him home to her husband.

Just as she was going to cook it her two brothers came in. They cried

out in horror at the sight, and, rushing out of the hut, declared they

would never see her any more. And the poor girl, with a heavy heart,

took the body of the redbreast up to her husband.

But directly she entered the room the man told her that he felt a

great deal better, and that he would rather have a piece of bear's

flesh, well boiled, than any bird, however tender. His wife felt very

miserable to think that their beloved redbreast had been sacrificed

for nothing, and begged him to try a little bit.

'You felt so sure that it would do you good before,' said she, 'that I

can't help thinking it would quite cure you now.' But the man only

flew into a rage, and flung the bird out of the window. Then he got up

and went out.

Now all this while the ball had been rolling, rolling, rolling to the

old grandmother's hut on the other side of the world, and directly it

rolled into her hut she knew that her grandson must be dead. Without

wasting any time she took a fox skin and tied it round her forehead,

and fastened another round her waist, as witches always do when they

leave their own homes. When she was ready she said to the ball: 'Go

back the way you came, and lead me to my grandson.' And the ball

started with the old woman following.

It was a long journey, even for a witch, but, like other things, it

ended at last; and the old woman stood before the platform of stakes,

where the body of Ball-Carrier lay.

'Wake up, my grandson, it is time to go home,' the witch said. And

Ball-Carrier stepped down off the platform, and brought his club and

bow and arrows out of the hut, and set out, for the other side of the

world, behind the old woman.

When they reached the hut where Ball-Carrier had fasted so many years

ago, the old woman spoke for the first time since they had started on

their way.

'My grandson, did you ever manage to get that gold from the Bad One?'

'Yes, grandmother, I got it.'

'Where is it?' she asked.

'Here, in my left arm-pit,' answered he.

So she picked up a knife and scraped away all the gold which had stuck

to his skin, and which had been sticking there ever since he first

stole it. After she had finished she asked again:

'My grandson, did you manage to get that bridge from the Bad One?'

'Yes, grandmother, I got that too,' answered he.

'Where is it?' she asked, and Ball-Carrier lifted his right arm, and

pointed to his arm-pit.

'Here is the bridge, grandmother,' said he.

Then the witch did something that nobody in the world could have

guessed that she would do. First, she took the gold and said to

Ball-Carrier:

'My grandson, this gold must be hidden in the earth, for if people

think they can get it when they choose, they will become lazy and

stupid. But if we take it and bury it in different parts of the world

they will have to work for it if they want it, and then will only find

a little at a time.' And as she spoke, she pulled up one of the poles

of the hut, and Ball-Carrier saw that underneath was a deep, deep

hole, which seemed to have no bottom. Down this hole she poured all

the gold, and when it was out of sight it ran about all over the

world, where people that dig hard sometimes find it. And after that

was done she put the pole back again.

Next she lifted down a spade from a high shelf, where it had grown

quite rusty, and dug a very small hole on the opposite side of the

hut--very small, but very deep.

'Give me the bridge,' said she, 'for I am going to bury it here. If

anyone was to get hold of it, and find that they could cross rivers

and seas without any trouble, they would never discover how to cross

them for themselves. I am a witch, and if I had chosen I could easily

have cast my spells over the Bad One, and have made him deliver them

to you the first day you came into my hut. But then you would never

have fasted, and never have planned how to get what you wanted, and

never have known the good spirits, and would have been fat and idle to

the end of your days. And now go; in that hut, which you can just see

far away, live your father and mother, who are old people now, and

need a son to hunt for them. You have done what you were set to do,

and I need you no more.'

Then Ball-Carrier remembered his parents and went back to them.

[From _Bureau of Ethnology_. 'Indian Folklore.']

_THE BUNYIP_

Long, long ago, far, far away on the other side of the world, some

young men left the camp where they lived to get some food for their

wives and children. The sun was hot, but they liked heat, and as they

went they ran races and tried who could hurl his spear the farthest,

or was cleverest in throwing a strange weapon called a boomerang,

which always returns to the thrower. They did not get on very fast at

this rate, but presently they reached a flat place that in time of

flood was full of water, but was now, in the height of summer, only a

set of pools, each surrounded with a fringe of plants, with bulrushes

standing in the inside of all. In that country the people are fond of

the roots of bulrushes, which they think as good as onions, and one of

the young men said that they had better collect some of the roots and

carry them back to the camp. It did not take them long to weave the

tops of the willows into a basket, and they were just going to wade

into the water and pull up the bulrush roots when a youth suddenly

called out: 'After all, why should we waste our time in doing work

that is only fit for women and children? Let them come and get the

roots for themselves; but we will fish for eels and anything else we

can get.'

This delighted the rest of the party, and they all began to arrange

their fishing lines, made from the bark of the yellow mimosa, and to

search for bait for their hooks. Most of them used worms, but one, who

had put a piece of raw meat for dinner into his skin wallet, cut off

a little bit and baited his line with it, unseen by his companions.

For a long time they cast patiently, without receiving a single bite;

the sun had grown low in the sky, and it seemed as if they would have

to go home empty-handed, not even with a basket of roots to show; when

the youth, who had baited his hook with raw meat, suddenly saw his

line disappear under the water. Something, a very heavy fish he

supposed, was pulling so hard that he could hardly keep his feet, and

for a few minutes it seemed either as if he must let go or be dragged

into the pool. He cried to his friends to help him, and at last,

trembling with fright at what they were going to see, they managed

between them to land on the bank a creature that was neither a calf

nor a seal, but something of both, with a long, broad tail. They

looked at each other with horror, cold shivers running down their

spines; for though they had never beheld it, there was not a man

amongst them who did not know what it was--the cub of the awful

Bunyip!

All of a sudden the silence was broken by a low wail, answered by

another from the other side of the pool, as the mother rose up from

her den and came towards them, rage flashing from her horrible yellow

eyes. 'Let it go! let it go!' whispered the young men to each other;

but the captor declared that he had caught it, and was going to keep

it. 'He had promised his sweetheart,' he said, 'that he would bring

back enough meat for her father's house to feast on for three days,

and though they could not eat the little Bunyip, her brothers and

sisters should have it to play with.' So, flinging his spear at the

mother to keep her back, he threw the little Bunyip on to his

shoulders, and set out for the camp, never heeding the poor mother's

cries of distress.

[Illustration: THE BUNYIP]

By this time it was getting near sunset, and the plain was in shadow,

though the tops of the mountains were still quite bright. The youths

had all ceased to be afraid, when they were startled by a

low rushing sound behind them, and, looking round, saw that the pool

was slowly rising, and the spot where they had landed the Bunyip was

quite covered. 'What could it be?' they asked one of another; 'there

was not a cloud in the sky, yet the water had risen higher already

than they had ever known it do before.' For an instant they stood

watching as if they were frozen, then they turned and ran with all

their might, the man with the Bunyip running faster than all. When he

reached a high peak overlooking all the plain he stopped to take

breath, and turned to see if he was safe yet. Safe! why only the tops

of the trees remained above that sea of water, and these were fast

disappearing. They must run fast indeed if they were to escape. So on

they flew, scarcely feeling the ground as they went, till they flung

themselves on the ground before the holes scooped out of the earth

where they had all been born. The old men were sitting in front, the

children were playing, and the women chattering together, when the

little Bunyip fell into their midst, and there was scarcely a child

among them who did not know that something terrible was upon them.

'The water! the water!' gasped one of the young men; and there it was,

slowly but steadily mounting the ridge itself. Parents and children

clung together, as if by that means they could drive back the

advancing flood; and the youth who had caused all this terrible

catastrophe, seized his sweetheart, and cried: 'I will climb with you

to the top of that tree, and there no waters can reach us.' But, as he

spoke, something cold touched him, and quickly he glanced down at his

feet. Then with a shudder he saw that they were feet no longer, but

bird's claws. He looked at the girl he was clasping, and beheld a

great black bird standing at his side; he turned to his friends, but a

flock of great awkward flapping creatures stood in their place. He put

up his hands to cover his face, but they were no more hands, only the

ends of wings; and when he tried to speak, a noise such as he had

never heard before seemed to come from his throat, which had suddenly

become narrow and slender. Already the water had risen to his waist,

and he found himself sitting easily upon it, while its surface

reflected back the image of a black swan, one of many.

* * * * *

Never again did the swans become men; but they are still different

from other swans, for in the night-time those who listen can hear them

talk in a language that is certainly not swan's language; and there

are even sounds of laughing and talking, unlike any noise made by the

swans whom we know.

The little Bunyip was carried home by its mother, and after that the

waters sank back to their own channels. The side of the pool where she

lives is always shunned by everyone, as nobody knows when she may

suddenly put out her head and draw him into her mighty jaws. But

people say that underneath the black waters of the pool she has a

house filled with beautiful things, such as mortals who dwell on the

earth have no idea of. Though how they know I cannot tell you, as

nobody has ever seen it.

[From _Journal of Anthropological Institute_.]

_FATHER GRUMBLER_

Once upon a time there lived a man who had nearly as many children as

there were sparrows in the garden. He had to work very hard all day to

get them enough to eat, and was often tired and cross, and abused

everything and everybody, so that people called him 'Father Grumbler.'

By-and-by he grew weary of always working, and on Sundays he lay a

long while in bed, instead of going to church. Then after a time he

found it dull to sit so many hours by himself, thinking of nothing but

how to pay the rent that was owing, and as the tavern across the road

looked bright and cheerful, he walked in one day and sat down with his

friends. 'It was just to chase away Care,' he said; but when he came

out, hours and hours after, Care came out with him.

Father Grumbler entered his house feeling more dismal than when he

left it, for he knew that he had wasted both his time and money.

'I will go and see the Holy Man in the cave near the well,' he said to

himself, 'and perhaps he can tell me why all the luck is for other

people, and only misfortunes happen to me.' And he set out at once for

the cave.

It was a long way off, and the road led over mountains and through

valleys; but at last he reached the cave where the Holy Man dwelt, and

knocked at the door.

'Who is there?' asked a voice from within.

'It is I, Holy Man, Father Grumbler, you know, who has as many

children as sparrows in the garden.'

'Well, and what is it that you want?'

'I want to know why other people have all the luck, and only

misfortunes happen to me!'

The Holy Man did not answer, but went into an inner cave, from which

he came out bearing something in his hand. 'Do you see this basket?'

said he. 'It is a magical basket, and if you are hungry you have only

got to say: "Little basket, little basket, do your duty," and you will

eat the best dinner you ever had in your life. But when you have had

enough, be sure you don't forget to cry out: "That will do for

to-day." Oh!--and one thing more--you need not show it to everybody

and declare that I have given it to you. Do you understand?'

Father Grumbler was always accustomed to think of himself as so

unlucky that he did not know whether the Holy Man was not playing a

trick upon him; but he took the basket without being polite enough to

say either 'Thank you,' or 'Good-morning,' and went away. However, he

only waited till he was out of sight of the cave before he stooped

down and whispered: 'Little basket, little basket, do your duty.'

Now the basket had a lid, so that he could not see what was inside,

but he heard quite clearly strange noises, as if a sort of scuffling

was going on. Then the lid burst open, and a quantity of delicious

little white rolls came tumbling out one after the other, followed by

a stream of small fishes all ready cooked. What a quantity there were

to be sure! The whole road was covered with them, and the banks on

each side were beginning to disappear. Father Grumbler felt quite

frightened at the torrent, but at last he remembered what the Holy Man

had told him, and cried at the top of his voice: 'Enough! enough! That

will do for to-day!' And the lid of the basket closed with a snap.

Father Grumbler sighed with relief and happiness as he looked around

him, and sitting down on a heap of stones, he ate till he could eat no

more. Trout, salmon, turbot, soles, and a hundred other fishes whose

names he did not know, lay boiled, fried, and grilled within reach of

his hands. As the Holy Man had said, he had never eaten such a dinner;

still, when he had done, he shook his head, and grumbled; 'Yes, there

is plenty to eat, of course, but it only makes me thirsty, and there

is not a drop to drink anywhere.'

[Illustration: THE MAGIC BASKET]

Yet, somehow, he could never tell why, he looked up and saw the tavern

in front of him, which he thought was miles, and miles, and miles

away.

'Bring the best wine you have got, and two glasses, good mother,' he

said as he entered, 'and if you are fond of fish there is enough here

to feed the house. Only there is no need to chatter about it all over

the place. You understand? Eh?' And without waiting for an answer he

whispered to the basket: 'Little basket, little basket, do your duty.'

The innkeeper and his wife thought that their customer had gone

suddenly mad, and watched him closely, ready to spring on him if he

became violent; but both instinctively jumped backwards, nearly into

the fire, as rolls and fishes of every kind came tumbling out of the

basket, covering the tables and chairs and the floor, and even

overflowing into the street.

'Be quick, be quick, and pick them up,' cried the man. 'And if these

are not enough, there are plenty more to be had for the asking.'

The innkeeper and his wife did not need telling twice. Down they went

on their knees and gathered up everything they could lay hands on. But

busy though they seemed, they found time to whisper to each other:

'If we can only get hold of that basket it will make our fortune!'

So they began by inviting Father Grumbler to sit down to the table,

and brought out the best wine in the cellar, hoping it might loosen

his tongue. But Father Grumbler was wiser than they gave him credit

for, and though they tried in all manner of ways to find out who had

given him the basket, he put them off, and kept his secret to himself.

Unluckily, though he did not _speak_, he did drink, and it was not

long before he fell fast asleep. Then the woman fetched from her

kitchen a basket, so like the magic one that no one, without looking

very closely, could tell the difference, and placed it in Father

Grumbler's hand, while she hid the other carefully away.

It was dinner time when the man awoke, and, jumping up hastily, he set

out for home, where he found all the children gathered round a basin

of thin soup, and pushing their wooden bowls forward, hoping to have

the first spoonful. Their father burst into the midst of them, bearing

his basket, and crying:

'Don't spoil your appetites, children, with that stuff. Do you see

this basket? Well, I have only got to say, "Little basket, little

basket, do your duty," and you will see what will happen. Now you

shall say it instead of me, for a treat.'

The children, wondering and delighted, repeated the words, but nothing

happened. Again and again they tried, but the basket was only a

basket, with a few scales of fish sticking to the bottom, for the

innkeeper's wife had taken it to market the day before.

'What is the matter with the thing?' cried the father at last,

snatching the basket from them, and turning it all over, grumbling and

swearing while he did so, under the eyes of his astonished wife and

children, who did not know whether to cry or to laugh.

'It certainly smells of fish,' he said, and then he stopped, for a

sudden thought had come to him.

'Suppose it is not mine at all; supposing---- Ah, the scoundrels!'

And without listening to his wife and children, who were frightened at

his strange conduct and begged him to stay at home, he ran across to

the tavern and burst open the door.

'Can I do anything for you, Father Grumbler?' asked the innkeeper's

wife in her softest voice.

'I have taken the wrong basket--by mistake, of course,' said he. 'Here

is yours, will you give me back my own?'

'Why, what are you talking about?' answered she. 'You can see for

yourself that there is no basket here.'

And though Father Grumbler _did_ look, it was quite true that none was

to be seen.

'Come, take a glass to warm you this cold day,' said the woman, who

was anxious to keep him in a good temper, and as this was an

invitation Father Grumbler never refused, he tossed it off and left

the house.

He took the road that led to the Holy Man's cave, and made such haste

that it was not long before he reached it.

'Who is there?' said a voice in answer to his knock.

'It is me, it is me, Holy Man. You know quite well. Father Grumbler,

who has as many children as sparrows in the garden.'

'But, my good man, it was only yesterday that I gave you a handsome

present.'

'Yes, Holy Man, and here it is. But something has happened, I don't

know what, and it won't work any more.'

'Well, put it down. I will go and see if I can find anything for you.'

In a few minutes the Holy Man returned with a cock under his arm.

'Listen to me,' he said, 'whenever you want money, you have only to

say: "Show me what you can do, cock," and you will see some wonderful

things. But, remember, it is not necessary to let all the world into

the secret.'

'Oh no, Holy Man, I am not so foolish as that.'

'Nor to tell everybody that I gave it to you,' went on the Holy Man.

'I have not got these treasures by the dozen.'

And without waiting for an answer he shut the door.

As before, the distance seemed to have wonderfully shortened, and in a

moment the tavern rose up in front of Father Grumbler. Without

stopping to think, he went straight in, and found the innkeeper's wife

in the kitchen making a cake.

'Where have you come from, with that fine red cock in your basket,'

asked she, for the bird was so big that the lid would not shut down

properly.

'Oh, I come from a place where they don't keep these things by the

dozen,' he replied, sitting down in front of the table.

The woman said no more, but set before him a bottle of his favourite

wine, and soon he began to wish to display his prize.

'Show me what you can do, cock,' cried he. And the cock stood up and

flapped his wings three times, crowing 'coquerico' with a voice like a

trumpet, and at each crow there fell from his beak golden drops, and

diamonds as large as peas.

[Illustration: 'COQUERICO'--THE WONDERFUL COCK]

This time Father Grumbler did not invite the innkeeper's wife to pick

up his treasures, but put his own hat under the cock's beak, so as to

catch everything he let fall; and he did not see the husband and wife

exchanging glances with each other which said, 'That would be a

splendid cock to put with our basket.'

'Have another glass of wine?' suggested the innkeeper, when they had

finished admiring the beauty of the cock, for they pretended not to

have seen the gold or the diamonds. And Father Grumbler, nothing loth,

drank one glass after another, till his head fell forward on the

table, and once more he was sound asleep. Then the woman gently coaxed

the cock from the basket and carried it off to her own poultry yard,

from which she brought one exactly like it, and popped it in its

place.

Night was falling when the man awoke, and throwing proudly some grains

of gold on the table to pay for the wine he had drunk, he tucked the

cock comfortably into his basket and set out for home.

His wife and all the children were waiting for him at the door, and as

soon as she caught sight of him she broke out:

'You are a nice man to go wasting your time and your money drinking in

that tavern, and leaving us to starve! Aren't you ashamed of

yourself?'

'You don't know what you are talking of,' he answered. 'Money? Why, I

have gold and diamonds now, as much as I want. Do you see that cock?

Well, you have only to say to him, "Show what you can do, cock," and

something splendid will happen.'

Neither wife nor children were inclined to put much faith in him after

their last experience; however, they thought it was worth trying, and

did as he told them. The cock flew round the room like a mad thing,

and crowed till their heads nearly split with the noise; but no gold

or diamonds dropped on the brick floor--not the tiniest grain of

either.

Father Grumbler stared in silence for an instant, and then he began to

swear so loudly that even his family, accustomed as they were to his

language, wondered at him.

At last he grew a little quieter, but remained as puzzled as ever.

'Can I have forgotten the words? But I _know_ that was what he said!

And I saw the diamonds with my own eyes!' Then suddenly he seized the

cock, shut it into the basket, and rushed out of the house.

[Illustration: THE HOLY MAN GIVES THE BAG TO FATHER GRUMBLER]

His heavy wooden shoes clattered as he ran along the road, and he made

such haste that the stars were only just beginning to come out when he

reached the cave of the Holy Man.

'Who is that knocking?' asked a voice from within.

'It is me! It is me! Holy Man! you know! Father----'

'But, my good fellow, you really should give some one else a chance.

This is the third time you have been--and at such an hour, too!'

'Oh, yes, Holy Man, I know it is very late, but you will forgive me!

It is your cock--there is something the matter. It is like the basket.

Look!'

'_That_ my cock? _That_ my basket? Somebody has played you a trick, my

good man!'

'A trick?' repeated Father Grumbler, who began to understand what had

happened. 'Then it must have been those two----'

'I warned you not to show them to anybody,' said the Holy Man. 'You

deserve----but I will give you one more chance.' And, turning, he

unhooked something from the wall.

'When you wish to dust your own jacket or those of your friends,' he

said, 'you have only got to say, "Flack, flick, switch, be quick," and

you will see what happens. That is all I have to tell you.' And,

smiling to himself, the Holy Man pushed Father Grumbler out of the

cave.

* * * * *

'Ah, I understand now,' muttered the good man, as he took the road

home; 'but I think I have got you two rascals!' and he hurried on to

the tavern with his basket under his arm, and the cock and the switch

both inside.

'Good evening, friends!' he said, as he entered the inn. 'I am very

hungry, and should be glad if you would roast this cock for me as soon

as possible. _This_ cock and no other--mind what I say,' he went on.

'Oh, and another thing! You can light the fire with this basket. When

you have done that I will show you something I have in my bag,' and,

as he spoke, he tried to imitate the smile that the Holy Man had given

_him_.

These directions made the innkeeper's wife very uneasy. However, she

said nothing, and began to roast the cock, while her husband did his

best to make the man sleepy with wine, but all in vain.

After dinner, which he did not eat without grumbling, for the cock was

very tough, the man struck his hand on the table, and said: 'Now

listen to me. Go and fetch my cock and my basket, at once. Do you

hear?'

'Your cock, and your basket, Father Grumbler? But you have just----'

'_My_ cock and _my_ basket!' interrupted he. 'And, if you are too deaf

and too stupid to understand what that means, I have got something

which may help to teach you.' And opening the bag, he cried: 'Flack!

flick! switch, be quick.'

And flack! flick! like lightning a white switch sprang out of the bag,

and gave such hearty blows to the innkeeper and his wife, and to

Father Grumbler into the bargain, that they all jumped as high as

feathers when a mattress is shaken.

'Stop! stop! make it stop, and you shall have back your cock and

basket,' cried the man and his wife. And Father Grumbler, who had no

wish to go on, called out between his hops: 'Stop then, can't you?

That is enough for to-day!'

But the switch paid no attention, and dealt out its blows as before,

and _might_ have been dealing them to this day, if the Holy Man had

not heard their cries and come to the rescue. 'Into the bag, quick!'

said he, and the switch obeyed.

'Now go and fetch me the cock and the basket,' and the woman went

without a word, and placed them on the table.

'You have all got what you deserved,' continued the Holy Man, 'and I

have no pity for any of you. I shall take my treasures home, and

perhaps some day I may find a man who knows how to make the best of

the chances that are given him. But that will never be _you_,' he

added, turning to Father Grumbler.

[From _Contes Populaires_.]

_THE STORY OF THE YARA_

Down in the south, where the sun shines so hotly that everything and

everybody sleeps all day, and even the great forests seem silent,

except early in the morning and late in the evening--down in this

country there once lived a young man and a maiden. The girl had been

born in the town, and had scarcely ever left it; but the young man was

a native of another country, and had only come to the city near the

great river because he could find no work to do where he was.

A few months after his arrival, when the days were cooler, and the

people did not sleep so much as usual, a great feast was held a little

way out of the town, and to this feast everyone flocked from thirty

miles and more. Some walked and some rode, some came in beautiful

golden coaches; but all had on splendid dresses of red or blue, while

wreaths of flowers rested on their hair.

It was the first time that the youth had been present on such an

occasion, and he stood silently aside watching the graceful dances and

the pretty games played by the young people. And as he watched, he

noticed one girl, dressed in white with scarlet pomegranates in her

hair, who seemed to him lovelier than all the rest.

When the feast was over, and the young man returned home, his manner

was so strange that it drew the attention of all his friends.

Through his work next day the youth continued to see the girl's face,

throwing the ball to her companions, or threading her way between

them as she danced. At night sleep fled from him, and after tossing

for hours on his bed, he would get up and plunge into a deep pool that

lay a little way in the forest.

This state of things went on for some weeks, then at last chance

favoured him. One evening, as he was passing near the house where she

lived, he saw her standing with her back to the wall, trying to beat

off with her fan the attacks of a savage dog that was leaping at her

throat. Alonzo, for such was his name, sprang forward, and with one

blow of his fist stretched the creature dead upon the road. He then

helped the frightened and half-fainting girl into the large cool

verandah where her parents were sitting, and from that hour he was a

welcome guest in the house, and it was not long before he was the

promised husband of Julia.

Every day, when his work was done, he used to go up to the house, half

hidden among flowering plants and brilliant creepers, where

humming-birds darted from bush to bush, and parrots of all colours,

red and green and grey, shrieked in chorus. There he would find the

maiden waiting for him, and they would spend an hour or two under the

stars, which looked so large and bright that you felt as if you could

almost touch them.

'What did you do last night after you went home?' suddenly asked the

girl one evening.

'Just the same as I always do,' answered he. 'It was too hot to sleep,

so it was no use going to bed, and I walked straight off to the forest

and bathed in one of those deep dark pools at the edge of the river. I

have been there constantly for several months, but last night a

strange thing happened. I was taking my last plunge, when I

heard--sometimes from one side, and sometimes from another--the sound

of a voice singing more sweetly than any nightingale, though I could

not catch any words. I left the pool, and, dressing myself as fast as

I could, I searched every bush and tree round the water, as I fancied

that perhaps it was my friend who was playing a trick on me, but there

was not a creature to be seen; and when I reached home I found my

friend fast asleep.'

As Julia listened her face grew deadly white, and her whole body

shivered as if with cold. From her childhood she had heard stories of

the terrible beings that lived in the forests and were hidden under

the banks of the rivers, and could only be kept off by powerful

charms. Could the voice which had bewitched Alonzo have come from one

of these? Perhaps, who knows, it might be the voice of the dreaded

Yara herself, who sought young men on the eve of their marriage as her

prey.

For a moment the girl sat choked with fear, as these thoughts rushed

through her; then she said: 'Alonzo, will you promise me something?'

'What is that?' asked he.

'It is something that has to do with our future happiness.'

'Oh! it is serious, then? Well, of course I promise. Now tell me!'

'I want you to promise,' she answered, lowering her voice to a

whisper, 'never to bathe in those pools again.'

'But why not, queen of my soul; have I not gone there always, and

nothing has harmed me, flower of my heart?'

'No; but perhaps something will. If you will not promise I shall go

mad with fright. Promise me.'

'Why, what is the matter? You look so pale! Tell me why you are so

frightened?'

'Did you not hear the song?' she asked, trembling.

'Suppose I did, how could that hurt me? It was the loveliest song I

ever heard!'

'Yes, and after the song will come the apparition; and after

that--after that----'

'I don't understand. Well--after that?'

'After that--death.'

Alonzo stared at her. Had she really gone mad? Such talk was very

unlike Julia; but before he could collect his senses the girl spoke

again:

'That is the reason why I implore you never to go there again; at any

rate till after we are married.'

'And what difference will our marriage make?'

'Oh, there will be no danger then; you can go to bathe as often as you

like!'

'But tell me why you are so afraid?'

'Because the voice you heard--I know you will laugh, but it is quite

true--it was the voice of the Yara.'

At these words Alonzo burst into a shout of laughter; but it sounded

so harsh and loud that Julia shrank away shuddering. It seemed as if

he could not stop himself, and the more he laughed the paler the poor

girl became, murmuring to herself as she watched him:

'Oh, heaven! you have seen her! you have seen her! what shall I do?'

Faint as was her whisper, it reached the ears of Alonzo, who, though

he still could not speak for laughing, shook his head.

'You may not know it, but it is true. Nobody who has not seen the Yara

laughs like that.' And Julia flung herself on the ground weeping

bitterly.

At this sight Alonzo became suddenly grave, and kneeling by her side,

gently raised her up.

'Do not cry so, my angel,' he said, 'I will promise anything you

please. Only let me see you smile again.'

With a great effort Julia checked her sobs, and rose to her feet.

'Thank you,' she answered. 'My heart grows lighter as you say that! I

know you will try to keep your word and to stay away from the forest.

But--the power of the Yara is very strong, and the sound of her voice

is apt to make men forget everything else in the world. Oh, I have

seen it, and more than one betrothed maiden lives alone,

broken-hearted. If ever you should return to the pool where you first

heard the voice, promise me that you will at least take this with

you.' And opening a curiously carved box, she took out a sea-shell

shot with many colours, and sang a song softly into it. 'The moment

you hear the Yara's voice,' said she, 'put this to your ear, and you

will hear my song instead. Perhaps--I do not know for certain--but

perhaps, I may be stronger than the Yara.'

[Illustration: JULIA SINGS HER SONG INTO THE SHELL]

It was late that night when Alonzo returned home. The moon was shining

on the distant river, which looked cool and inviting, and the trees of

the forest seemed to stretch out their arms and beckon him near. But

the young man steadily turned his face in the other direction, and

went home to bed.

The struggle had been hard, but Alonzo had his reward next day in the

joy and relief with which Julia greeted him. He assured her that

having overcome the temptation once the danger was now over; but she,

knowing better than he did the magic of the Yara's face and voice, did

not fail to make him repeat his promise when he went away.

For three nights Alonzo kept his word, not because he believed in the

Yara, for he thought that the tales about her were all nonsense, but

because he could not bear the tears with which he knew that Julia

would greet him, if he confessed that he had returned to the forest.

But, in spite of this, the song rang in his ears, and daily grew

louder.

On the fourth night the attraction of the forest grew so strong that

neither the thought of Julia nor the promises he had made her could

hold him back. At eleven o'clock he plunged into the cool darkness of

the trees, and took the path that led straight to the river. Yet, for

the first time, he found that Julia's warnings, though he had laughed

at her at the moment, had remained in his memory, and he glanced at

the bushes with a certain sense of fear which was quite new to him.

When he reached the river he paused and looked round for a moment to

make sure that the strange feeling of some one watching him was fancy,

and he was really alone. But the moon shone brightly on every tree,

and nothing was to be seen but his own shadow; nothing was to be heard

but the sound of the rippling stream.

He threw off his clothes, and was just about to dive in headlong,

when something--he did not know what--suddenly caused him to look

round. At the same instant the moon passed from behind a cloud, and

its rays fell on a beautiful golden-haired woman standing half hidden

by the ferns.

With one bound he caught up his mantle, and rushed headlong down the

path he had come, fearing at each step to feel a hand laid on his

shoulder. It was not till he had left the last trees behind him, and

was standing in the open plain, that he dared to look round, and then

he thought a figure in white was still standing there waving her arms

to and fro. This was enough; he ran along the road harder than ever,

and never paused till he was safe in his own room.

With the earliest rays of dawn he went back to the forest to see

whether he could find any traces of the Yara, but though he searched

every clump of bushes, and looked up every tree, everything was empty,

and the only voices he heard were those of parrots, which are so ugly

that they only drive people away.

'I think I must be mad,' he said to himself, 'and have dreamt all that

folly'; and going back to the city he began his daily work. But either

that was harder than usual, or he must be ill, for he could not fix

his mind upon it, and everybody he came across during the day inquired

if anything had happened to give him that white, frightened look.

'I must be feverish,' he said to himself; 'after all, it is rather

dangerous to take a cold bath when one is feeling so hot.' Yet he

knew, while he said it, that he was counting the hours for night to

come, that he might return to the forest.

In the evening he went as usual to the creeper-covered house. But he

had better have stayed away, as his face was so pale and his manner so

strange, that the poor girl saw that something terrible had occurred.

Alonzo, however, refused to answer any of her questions, and all

she could get was a promise to hear everything next day.

[Illustration: THE YARA DEFEATED]

On pretence of a violent headache, he left Julia much earlier than

usual and hurried quickly home. Taking down a pistol, he loaded it and

put it in his belt, and a little before midnight he stole out on the

tips of his toes, so as to disturb nobody. Once outside he hastened

down the road which led to the forest.

He did not stop till he had reached the river pool, when, holding the

pistol in his hand, he looked about him. At every little noise--the

falling of a leaf, the rustle of an animal in the bushes, the cry of a

night-bird--he sprang up and cocked his pistol in the direction of the

sound. But though the moon still shone he saw nothing, and by and by a

kind of dreamy state seemed to steal over him as he leant against a

tree.

How long he remained in this condition he could not have told, but

suddenly he awoke with a start, on hearing his name uttered softly.

'Who is that?' he cried, standing upright instantly; but only an echo

answered him. Then his eyes grew fascinated with the dark waters of

the pool close to his feet, and he looked at it as if he could never

look away.

He gazed steadily into the depths for some minutes, when he became

aware that down in the darkness was a bright spark, which got rapidly

bigger and brighter. Again that feeling of awful fear took possession

of him, and he tried to turn his eyes from the pool. But it was no

use; something stronger than himself compelled him to keep them there.

At last the waters parted softly, and floating on the surface he saw

the beautiful woman whom he had fled from only a few nights before. He

turned to run, but his feet were glued to the spot.

She smiled at him and held out her arms, but as she did so there came

over him the remembrance of Julia, as he had seen her a few hours

earlier, and her warnings and fears for the very danger in which he

now found himself.

Meanwhile the figure was always drawing nearer, nearer; but, with a

violent effort, Alonzo shook off his stupor, and taking aim at her

shoulder he pulled the trigger. The report awoke the sleeping echoes,

and was repeated all through the forest, but the figure smiled still,

and went on advancing. Again Alonzo fired, and a second time the

bullet whistled through the air, and the figure advanced nearer. A

moment more, and she would be at his side.

Then, his pistol being empty, he grasped the barrel with both hands,

and stood ready to use it as a club should the Yara approach any

closer. But now it seemed her turn to feel afraid, for she paused for

an instant while he pressed forward, still holding the pistol above

his head, prepared to strike.

In his excitement he had forgotten the river, and it was not till the

cold water touched his feet that he stood still by instinct. The Yara

saw that he was wavering, and suffering herself to sway gently

backwards and forwards on the surface of the river, she began to sing.

The song floated through the trees, now far and now near; no one could

tell whence it came, the whole air seemed full of it. Alonzo felt his

senses going and his will failing. His arms dropped heavily to his

side, but in falling struck against the sea shell, which, as he had

promised Julia, he had always carried in his coat.

His dimmed mind was just clear enough to remember what she had said,

and with trembling fingers, that were almost powerless to grasp, he

drew it out. As he did so the song grew sweeter and more tender than

before, but he shut his ears to it and bent his head over the shell.

Out of its depths arose the voice of Julia singing to him as she had

sung when she gave him the shell, and though the notes sounded faint

at first, they swelled louder and louder till the mist which had

gathered about him was blown away.

Then he raised his head, feeling that he had been through strange

places, where he could never wander any more; and he held himself

erect and strong, and looked about him. Nothing was to be seen but the

shining of the river, and the dark shadows of the trees; nothing was

to be heard but the hum of the insects, as they darted through the

night.

[Adapted from _Folklore Brésilien_.]

_THE CUNNING HARE_

In a very cold country, far across the seas, where ice and snow cover

the ground for many months in the year, there lived a little hare,

who, as his father and mother were both dead, was brought up by his

grandmother. As he was too young, and she was too old, to work, they

were very poor, and often did not have enough to eat.

One day, when the little fellow was hungrier than usual, he asked his

grandmother if he might not go down to the river and catch a fish for

their breakfast, as the thaw had come and the water was flowing freely

again. She laughed at him for thinking that any fish would let itself

be caught by a hare, especially such a young one; but as she had the

rheumatism very badly, and could get no food herself, she let him go.

'If he does not catch a fish he may find something else,' she said to

herself. So she told her grandson where to look for the net, and how

he was to set it across the river; but just as he was starting,

feeling himself quite a man, she called him back.

'After all, I don't know what is the use of your going, my boy! For

even if you should catch a fish, I have no fire to cook it with.'

'Let me catch my fish, and I will soon make you a fire,' he answered

gaily, for he was young, and knew nothing about the difficulties of

fire-making.

It took him some time to haul the net through bushes and over fields,

but at length he reached a pool in the river which he had often heard

was swarming with fish, and here he set the net, as his grandmother

had directed him.

[Illustration: THE LITTLE HARE IS CAUGHT]

He was so excited that he hardly slept all night, and at the very

first streak of dawn he ran as fast as ever he could down to the

river. His heart beat as quickly as if he had had dogs behind him, and

he hardly dared to look, lest he should be disappointed. Would there

be even one fish? And at this thought the pangs of hunger made him

feel quite sick with fear. But he need not have been afraid; in every

mesh of the net was a fine fat fish, and of course the net itself was

so heavy that he could only lift one corner. He threw some of the fish

back into the water, and buried some more in a hole under a stone,

where he would be sure to find them. Then he rolled up the net with

the rest, put it on his back and carried it home. The weight of the

load caused his back to ache, and he was thankful to drop it outside

their hut, while he rushed in, full of joy, to tell his grandmother.

'Be quick and clean them!' he said, 'and I will go to those people's

tents on the other side of the water.'

The old woman stared at him in horror as she listened to his proposal.

Other people had tried to steal fire before, and few indeed had come

back with their lives; but as, contrary to all her expectations, he

had managed to catch such a number of fish, she thought that perhaps

there was some magic about him which she did not know of, and did not

try to hinder him.

When the fish were all taken out, he fetched the net which he had laid

out to dry, folded it up very small, and ran down to the river, hoping

that he might find a place narrow enough for him to jump over; but he

soon saw that it was too wide for even the best jumper in the world.

For a few moments he stood there, wondering what was to be done, then

there darted into his head some words of a spell which he had once

heard a wizard use, while drinking from the river. He repeated them,

as well as he could remember, and waited to see what would happen. In

five minutes such a grunting and a puffing was heard, and columns of

water rose into the air, though he could not tell what had made them.

Then round the bend of the stream came fifteen huge whales, which he

ordered to place themselves heads to tails, like stepping stones, so

that he could jump from one to the other till he landed on the

opposite shore. Directly he got there he told the whales that he did

not need them any more, and sat down in the sand to rest.

Unluckily some children who were playing about caught sight of him,

and one of them, stealing softly up behind him, laid tight hold of his

ears. The hare, who had been watching the whales as they sailed down

the river, gave a violent start, and struggled to get away; but the

boy held on tight, and ran back home, as fast as he could go.

'Throw it in the pot,' said the old woman, as soon as he had told his

story; 'put it in that basket, and as soon as the water boils in the

pot we will hang it over the fire!'

'Better kill it first,' said the old man; and the hare listened,

horribly frightened, but still looking secretly to see if there was no

hole through which he could escape, if he had a chance of doing so.

Yes, there was one, right in the top of the tent, so, shaking himself,

as if with fright, he let the end of his net unroll itself a little.

'I wish that a spark of fire would fall on my net,' whispered he; and

the next minute a great log fell forward into the midst of the tent,

causing every one to spring backwards. The sparks were scattered in

every direction, and one fell on the net, making a little blaze. In an

instant the hare had leaped through the hole, and was racing towards

the river, with men, women, and children after him. There was no time

to call back the whales, so, holding the net tight in his mouth, he

wished himself across the river. Then he jumped high into the air, and

landed safe on the other side, and after turning round to be sure

that there was no chance of anyone pursuing him, trotted happily home

to his grandmother.

'Didn't I tell you I would bring you fire?' said he, holding up his

net, which was now burning briskly.

'But how did you cross the water?' inquired the old woman.

'Oh, I just jumped!' said he. And his grandmother asked him no more

questions, for she saw that he was wiser than she.

['Indian Folk Tales.' _Bureau of Ethnology._]

_THE TURTLE AND HIS BRIDE_

There was once a turtle who lived among a great many people of

different kinds, in a large camp near a big river which was born right

up amongst the snows, and flowed straight away south till it reached a

sea where the water was always hot.

There were many other turtles in the camp, and this turtle was kind

and pleasant to them all, but he did not care for any of them very

much, and felt rather lonely.

At last he built himself a hut, and filled it with skins for seats,

and made it as comfortable as any hut for miles round; and when it was

quite finished he looked about among the young women to see which of

them he should ask to be his wife.

It took him some time to make up his mind, for no turtle likes being

hurried, but at length he found one girl who seemed prettier and more

industrious than the rest, and one day he entered her home, and said:

'Will you marry me?'

The young woman was so surprised at this question that she dropped the

beaded slipper she was making, and stared at the turtle. She felt

inclined to laugh--the idea was so absurd; but she was kind-hearted

and polite, so she looked as grave as she could, and answered:

'But how are you going to provide for a family? Why, when the camp

moves, you will not even be able to keep up with the rest!'

'I can keep up with the best of them,' replied the turtle, tossing

his head. But though he was very much offended he did not let the girl

see it, and begged and prayed her so hard to marry him that, at last,

she consented, very unwillingly.

'You will have to wait till the spring, though,' she said; 'I must

make a great many slippers and dresses for myself, as I shall not have

much time afterwards.'

This did not please the turtle; but he knew it was no use talking, so

all he answered was:

'I shall go to war and take some captives, and I shall be away several

months. And when I return I shall expect you to be ready to marry me.'

So he went back to his hut, and at once set about his preparations.

The first thing he did was to call all his relations together, and ask

them if they would come with him and make war on the people of a

neighbouring village. The turtles, who were tired of doing nothing,

agreed at once, and next day the whole tribe left the camp. The girl

was standing at the door of her hut as they passed, and laughed out

loud--they moved so slowly. Her lover, who was marching at the head,

grew very angry at this, and cried out:

'In four days from now you will be weeping instead of laughing,

because there will be hundreds of miles between you and me.'

'In four days,' replied the girl--who had only promised to marry him

in order to get rid of him--'in four days you will hardly be out of

sight.'

'Oh, I did not mean four days, but four _years_,' answered the turtle,

hastily; 'whatever happens I shall be back by then.'

The army marched on, till one day, when they felt as if they must have

got half round the earth, though they were scarcely four miles from

the camp, they found a large tree lying across their path. They looked

at it with dismay, and the oldest among them put their heads together

to see what was to be done.

'Can't we manage to get past by the top?' asked one.

[Illustration: THE GIRL LAUGHS AT THE ARMY OF TURTLES]

'Why, it would take us _years_,' exclaimed another. 'Just look at all

those tall green branches, spreading in every direction. If once we

got entangled in _them_, we should never get out again!'

'Well then, let us go round by the bottom,' said a third.

'How are we to do that, when the roots have made a deep hole, and

above that is a high bank?' replied a fourth. 'No; the only way _I_

can think of, is to burn a large hole in the trunk.' And this they

did, but the trunk was very thick, and would not burn through.

* * * * *

'It is no use, we must give it up,' they agreed at last. 'After all,

nobody need ever know! We have been away such a long while that we

might easily have had all sorts of adventures.' And so the whole

company turned homewards again.

They took even longer to go back than they had to come, for they were

tired and footsore with their journey. When they drew near the camp

they plucked up their courage, and began to sing a war-song. At this

the villagers came flocking to see what spoils the turtles had won,

but, as they approached, each turtle seized some one by the wrist,

exclaiming: 'You are our spoils; you are our prisoners!'

'Now that I have got you I will keep you,' said the leader, who had

happened to seize his betrothed.

Everybody was naturally very angry at this behaviour, and the girl

most of all, and in her secret heart she determined to have her

revenge. But, just at present, the turtles were too strong, so the

prisoners had to put on their smartest slippers and their brightest

clothes, and dance a war dance while the turtles sang. They danced so

long that it seemed as if they would never stop, till the turtle who

was leading the singing suddenly broke into a loud chant:

Whoever comes here, will die, will die!

At this all the dancers grew so frightened that they burst through

the ring of their captors, and ran back to the village, the turtles

following--very slowly. On the way the chief turtle met a man, who

said to him:

'That woman who was to have been your wife has married another man!'

'Is that true?' said the turtle. 'Then I must see him.'

But as soon as the villager was out of sight the turtle stopped, and

taking a bundle containing fringes and ornaments from his back, he

hung them about him, so that they rattled as he walked. When he was

quite close to the hut where the woman lived, he cried out:

'Here I am to claim the woman who promised to be my wife.'

'Oh, here is the turtle,' whispered the husband hurriedly; 'what is to

be done now?'

'Leave that to me; I will manage him,' replied the wife, and at that

moment the turtle came in, and seized her by the wrist. 'Come with

me,' he said sternly.

'You broke your promise,' answered she. 'You said you would be back

soon, and it is more than a year since you went! How was I to know

that you were alive?'

At her words the husband took courage, and spoke hastily:

'Yes, you promised you would go to war and bring back some prisoners,

and you have not done it.'

'I _did_ go, and made many prisoners,' retorted the turtle angrily,

drawing out his knife. 'Look here, if she won't be _my_ wife, she

sha'n't be _yours_. I will cut her in two; and you shall have one

half, and I the other.'

'But half a woman is no use to me,' answered the man. 'If you want her

so much you had better take her.' And the turtle, followed by his

relations, carried her off to his own hut.

[Illustration: THE TURTLE OUTWITTED]

Now the woman saw she would gain nothing by being sulky, so she

pretended to be very glad to have got rid of her husband; but all the

while she was trying to invent a plan to deliver herself from the

turtle. At length she remembered that one of her friends had a large

iron pot, and when the turtle had gone to his room to put away his

fringes, she ran over to her neighbour's and brought it back. Then she

filled it with water and hung it over the fire to boil. It was just

beginning to bubble and hiss when the turtle entered.

'What are you doing there?' asked he, for he was always afraid of

things that he did not understand.

'Just warming some water,' she answered. 'Do you know how to swim?'

'Yes, of course I do. What a question! But what does it matter to

you?' said the turtle, more suspicious than ever.

'Oh, I only thought that after your long journey you might like to

wash. The roads are so muddy, after the winter's rains. I could rub

your shell for you till it was bright and shining again.'

'Well, I _am_ rather muddy. If one is fighting, you know, one cannot

stop to pick one's way. I should certainly be more comfortable if my

back was washed.'

The woman did not wait for him to change his mind. She caught him up

by his shell and popped him straight into the pot, where he sank to

the bottom, and died instantly.

The other turtles, who were standing at the door, saw their leader

disappear, and felt it was their duty as soldiers to follow him; and,

springing into the pot, died too. All but one young turtle, who,

frightened at not seeing any of his friends come out again, went as

fast as he could to a clump of bushes, and from there made his way to

the river. His only thought was to get away as far as possible from

that dreadful hut; so he let the river carry him where it was going

itself, and at last, one day, he found himself in the warm sea, where,

if he is not dead, you may meet him still.

[_Bureau of Ethnology._]

_HOW GEIRALD THE COWARD WAS PUNISHED_

Once upon a time there lived a poor knight who had a great many

children, and found it very hard to get enough for them to eat. One

day he sent his eldest son, Rosald, a brave and honest youth, to the

neighbouring town to do some business, and here Rosald met a young man

named Geirald, with whom he made friends.

Now Geirald was the son of a rich man, who was proud of the boy, and

had all his life allowed him to do whatever he fancied, and, luckily

for the father, he was prudent and sensible, and did not waste money,

as many other rich young men might have done. For some time he had set

his heart on travelling into foreign countries, and after he had been

talking for a little while to Rosald, he asked if his new friend would

be his companion on his journey.

'There is nothing I should like better,' answered Rosald, shaking his

head sorrowfully; 'but my father is very poor, and he could never give

me the money.'

'Oh, if that is your only difficulty, it is all right,' cried Geirald.

'My father has more money than he knows what to do with, and he will

give me as much as I want for both of us; only, there is one thing you

must promise me, Rosald, that, supposing we have any adventures, you

will let the honour and glory of them fall to me.'

'Yes, of course, that is only fair,' answered Rosald, who never cared

about putting himself forward. 'But I cannot go without telling my

parents. I am sure they will think me lucky to get such a chance.'

As soon as the business was finished, Rosald hastened home. His

parents were delighted to hear of his good fortune, and his father

gave him his own sword, which was growing rusty for want of use, while

his mother saw that his leather jerkin was in order.

'Be sure you keep the promise you made to Geirald,' said she, as she

bade him good-bye, 'and, come what may, see that you never betray

him.'

Full of joy Rosald rode off, and the next day he and Geirald started

off to seek adventures. To their disappointment their own land was so

well governed that nothing out of the common was very likely to

happen, but directly they crossed the border into another kingdom all

seemed lawlessness and confusion.

They had not gone very far, when, riding across a mountain, they

caught a glimpse of several armed men hiding amongst some trees in

their path, and remembered suddenly some talk they had heard of a band

of twelve robbers who lay in wait for rich travellers. The robbers

were more like savage beasts than men, and lived somewhere at the top

of the mountain in caves and holes in the ground. They were all called

'Hankur,' and were distinguished one from another by the name of a

colour--blue, grey, red, and so on, except their chief, who was known

as Hankur the Tall. All this and more rushed into the minds of the two

young men as they saw the flash of their swords in the moonlight.

'It is impossible to fight them--they are twelve to two,' whispered

Geirald, stopping his horse in the path. 'We had much better ride back

and take the lower road. It would be stupid to throw away our lives

like this.'

'Oh, we can't turn back,' answered Rosald, 'we should be ashamed to

look anyone in the face again! And, besides, it is a grand opportunity

to show what we are made of. Let us tie up our horses here, and climb

up the rocks so that we can roll stones down on them.'

'Well, we might try that, and then we shall always have our horses,'

said Geirald. So they went up the rocks silently and carefully.

The robbers were lying all ready, expecting every moment to see their

victims coming round the corner a few yards away, when a shower of

huge stones fell on their heads, killing half the band. The others

sprang up the rock, but as they reached the top the sword of Rosald

swung round, and one man after another rolled down into the valley. At

last the chief managed to spring up, and, grasping Rosald by the

waist, flung away his sword, and the two fought desperately, their

bodies swaying always nearer the edge. It seemed as if Rosald, being

the smaller of the two, _must_ fall over, when, with his left hand, he

drew the robber's sword out of its sheath and plunged it into his

heart. Then he took from the dead man a beautiful ring set with a

large stone, and put it on his own finger.

The fame of this wonderful deed soon spread through the country, and

people would often stop Geirald's horse, and ask leave to see the

robber's ring, which was said to have been stolen from the father of

the reigning king. And Geirald showed them the ring with pride, and

listened to their words of praise, and no one would ever have guessed

anyone else had destroyed the robbers.

In a few days they left that kingdom and rode on to another, where

they thought they would stop through the remainder of the winter, for

Geirald liked to be comfortable, and did not care about travelling

through ice and snow. But the king would only grant them leave to stop

on condition that, before the winter was ended, they should give him

some fresh proof of the courage of which he had heard so much.

Rosald's heart was glad at the king's message, and as for Geirald, he

felt that as long as Rosald was there all would go well. So they both

bowed low and replied that it was the king's place to command and

theirs to obey.

'Well, then,' said his Majesty, 'this is what I want you to do: In

the north-east part of my kingdom there dwells a giant, who has an

iron staff twenty yards long, and he is so quick in using it, that

even fifty knights have no chance against him. The bravest and

strongest young men of my court have fallen under the blows of that

staff; but, as you overcame the twelve robbers so easily, I feel that

I have reason to hope that you may be able to conquer the giant. In

three days from this you will set out.'

'We will be ready, your Majesty,' answered Rosald; but Geirald

remained silent.

* * * * *

'How can we possibly fight against a giant that has killed fifty

knights?' cried Geirald, when they were outside the castle. 'The king

only wants to get rid of us! He won't think about us for the next

three days--that is one comfort--so we shall have plenty of time to

cross the borders of the kingdom and be out of his reach.'

'We mayn't be able to kill the giant, but we certainly can't run away

till we have tried,' answered Rosald. 'Besides, think how glorious it

will be if we _do_ manage to kill him! I know what sort of weapon I

shall use. Come with me now, and I will see about it.' And, taking his

friend by the arm, he led him into a shop where he bought a huge lump

of solid iron, so big that they could hardly lift it between them.

However, they just managed to carry it to a blacksmith's where Rosald

directed that it should be beaten into a thick club, with a sharp

spike at one end. When this was done to his liking he took it home

under his arm.

* * * * *

Very early on the third morning the two young men started on their

journey, and on the fourth day they reached the giant's cave before he

was out of bed. Hearing the sound of footsteps, the giant got up and

went to the entrance to see who was coming, and Rosald, expecting

something of the sort, struck him such a blow on the forehead that he

fell to the ground. Then, before he could rise to his feet again,

Rosald drew out his sword and cut off his head.

'It was not so difficult after all, you see,' he said, turning to

Geirald. And placing the giant's head in a leathern wallet which was

slung over his back, they began their journey to the castle.

As they drew near the gates, Rosald took the head from the wallet and

handed it to Geirald, whom he followed into the king's presence.

'The giant will trouble you no more,' said Geirald, holding out the

head. And the king fell on his neck and kissed him, and cried joyfully

that he was the bravest knight in all the world, and that a feast

should be made for him and Rosald, and that the great deed should be

proclaimed throughout the kingdom. And Geirald's heart swelled with

pride, and he almost forgot that it was Rosald and not he, who had

slain the giant.

By-and-by a whisper went round that a beautiful lady who lived in the

castle would be present at the feast, with twenty-four lovely maidens,

her attendants. The lady was the queen of her own country, but as her

father and mother had died when she was a little girl, she had been

left in the care of this king who was her uncle.

She was now old enough to govern her own kingdom, but her subjects did

not like being ruled by a woman, and said that she must find a husband

to help her in managing her affairs. Prince after prince had offered

himself, but the young queen would have nothing to say to any of them,

and at last told her ministers that if she was to have a husband at

all she must choose him for herself, as she would certainly not marry

any of those whom they had selected for her. The ministers replied

that in that case she had better manage her kingdom alone, and the

queen, who knew nothing about business, got things into such a

confusion that at last she threw them up altogether, and went off to

her uncle.

Now when she heard how the two young men had slain the giant, her

heart was filled with admiration of their courage, and she declared

that if a feast was held she would certainly be present at it.

[Illustration: 'THE GIANT WILL TROUBLE YOU NO MORE,' SAID GEIRALD]

And so she was; and when the feast was over she asked the king, her

guardian, if he would allow the two heroes who had killed the robbers

and slain the giant to fight a tourney the next day with one of her

pages. The king gladly gave his consent, and ordered the lists to be

made ready, never doubting that two great champions would be eager for

such a chance of adding to their fame. Little did he guess that

Geirald had done all he could to persuade Rosald to steal secretly out

of the castle during the night, 'for,' said he, 'I don't believe they

are pages at all, but well-proved knights, and how can we, so young

and untried, stand up against them?'

'The honour will be all the higher if we gain the day,' answered

Rosald; but Geirald would listen to nothing, and only declared that he

did not care about honour, and would rather be alive than have every

honour in the world heaped on him. Go he would, and as Rosald had

sworn to give him his company, he must come with him.

Rosald was much grieved when he heard these words, but he knew that it

was useless attempting to persuade Geirald, and turned his thoughts to

forming some plan to prevent this disgraceful flight. Suddenly his

face brightened. 'Let us change clothes,' he said, 'and _I_ will do

the fighting, while you shall get the glory. Nobody will ever know.'

And to this Geirald readily consented.

Whether Geirald was right or not in thinking that the so-called page

was really a well-proved knight, it is certain that Rosald's task was

a very hard one. Three times they came together with a crash which

made their horses reel; once Rosald knocked the helmet off his foe,

and received in return such a blow that he staggered in his saddle.

Shouts went up from the lookers-on, as first one and then the other

seemed gaining the victory; but at length Rosald planted his spear in

the armour which covered his adversary's breast and bore him steadily

backward. 'Unhorsed! unhorsed!' cried the people; and Rosald then

himself dismounted and helped his adversary to rise.

[Illustration: GEIRALD CLAIMS HIS REWARD AND THE QUEEN DEMANDS

ANOTHER TEST]

In the confusion that followed it was easy for Rosald to slip away

and return Geirald his proper clothes. And in these, torn and dusty

with the fight, Geirald answered the king's summons to come before

him.

'You have done what I expected you to do,' said he, 'and now, choose

your reward.'

'Grant me, sire, the hand of the queen, your niece,' replied the young

man, bowing low, 'and I will defend her kingdom against all her

enemies.'

'She could choose no better husband,' said the king, 'and if she

consents I do.' And he turned towards the queen, who had not been

present during the fight, but had just slipped into a seat by his

right hand. Now the queen's eyes were very sharp, and it seemed to her

that the man who stood before her, tall and handsome though he might

be, was different in many slight ways, and in one in particular, from

the man who had fought the tourney. How there could be any trickery

she could not understand, and why the real victor should be willing to

give up his prize to another was still stranger; but something in her

heart warned her to be careful. She answered: 'You may be satisfied,

uncle, but _I_ am not. One more proof I must have; let the two young

men now fight against each other. The man _I_ marry must be the man

who killed the robbers and the giant, and overcame my page.' Geirald's

face grew pale as he heard these words. He knew there was no escape

for him now, though he did not doubt for one moment that Rosald would

keep his compact loyally to the last. But how would it be possible

that even Rosald should deceive the watchful eyes of the king and his

court, and still more those of the young queen whom he felt uneasily

had suspected him from the first?

The tourney was fought, and in spite of Geirald's fears Rosald managed

to hang back to make attacks which were never meant to succeed, and to

allow strokes which he could easily have parried to attain their end.

At length, after a great show of resistance, he fell heavily to the

ground. And as he fell he knew that it was not alone the glory that

was his rightfully which he gave up, but the hand of the queen that

was more precious still.

But Geirald did not even wait to see if he was wounded; he went

straight to the wall where the royal banner waved and claimed the

reward which was now his.

The crowd of watchers turned towards the queen, expecting to see her

stoop and give some token to the victor. Instead, to the surprise of

everyone, she merely smiled gracefully, and said that before she

bestowed her hand one more test must be imposed, but this should be

the last. The final tourney should be fought; Geirald and Rosald

should meet singly two knights of the king's court, and he who could

unhorse his foe should be master of herself and of her kingdom. The

combat was fixed to take place at ten o'clock the following day.

All night long Geirald walked about his room, not daring to face the

fight that lay in front of him, and trying with all his might to

discover some means of escaping it. All night long he moved restlessly

from door to window; and when the trumpets sounded, and the combatants

rode into the field, he alone was missing. The king sent messengers to

see what had become of him, and he was found, trembling with fear,

hiding under his bed. After that there was no need of any further

proof. The combat was declared unnecessary, and the queen pronounced

herself quite satisfied, and ready to accept Rosald as her husband.

'You forgot one thing,' she said, when they were alone. 'I recognised

my father's ring which Hankur the Tall had stolen, on the finger of

your right hand, and I knew that it was you and not Geirald who had

slain the robber band. _I_ was the page who fought you, and again I

saw the ring on your finger, though it was absent from his when he

stood before me to claim the prize. That was why I ordered the combat

between you, though your faith to your word prevented my plan being

successful, and I had to try another. The man who keeps his promise

at all costs to himself is the man I can trust, both for myself and

for my people.'

So they were married, and returned to their own kingdom, which they

ruled well and happily. And many years after a poor beggar knocked at

the palace gates and asked for money, for the sake of days gone

by--and this was Geirald.

[From _Neuisländischen Volksmärchen_.]

_HÁBOGI_

Once upon a time there lived two peasants who had three daughters,

and, as generally happens, the youngest was the most beautiful and the

best tempered, and when her sisters wanted to go out she was always

ready to stay at home and do their work.

Years passed quickly with the whole family, and one day the parents

suddenly perceived that all three girls were grown up, and that very

soon they would be thinking of marriage.

'Have you decided what your husband's name is to be?' said the father,

laughingly, to his eldest daughter, one evening when they were all

sitting at the door of their cottage. 'You know that is a very

important point!'

'Yes; I will never wed any man who is not called Sigmund,' answered

she.

'Well, it is lucky for you that there are a great many Sigmunds in

this part of the world,' replied her father, 'so that you can take

your choice! And what do _you_ say?' he added, turning to the second.

'Oh, _I_ think that there is no name so beautiful as Sigurd,' cried

she.

'Then you won't be an old maid either,' answered he. 'There are seven

Sigurds in the next village alone! And you, Helga?'

Helga, who was still the prettiest of the three, looked up. She also

had her favourite name, but, just as she was going to say it, she

seemed to hear a voice whisper: 'Marry no one who is not called

Hábogi.'

The girl had never heard of such a name, and did not like it, so she

determined to pay no attention; but as she opened her mouth to tell

her father that her husband must be called Njal, she found herself

answering instead: 'If I do marry it will be to no one except Hábogi.'

'Who _is_ Hábogi?' asked her father and sisters; 'We never heard of

such a person.'

'All I can tell you is that he will be my husband, if ever I have

one,' returned Helga; and that was all she would say.

Before very long the young men who lived in the neighbouring villages

or on the sides of the mountains, had heard of this talk of the three

girls, and Sigmunds and Sigurds in scores came to visit the little

cottage. There were other young men too, who bore different names,

though not one of them was called 'Hábogi,' and these thought that

they might perhaps gain the heart of the youngest. But though there

was more than one 'Njal' amongst them, Helga's eyes seemed always

turned another way.

At length the two elder sisters made their choice from out of the

Sigurds and the Sigmunds, and it was decided that both weddings should

take place at the same time. Invitations were sent out to the friends

and relations, and when, on the morning of the great day, they were

all assembled, a rough, coarse old peasant left the crowd and came up

to the brides' father.

'My name is Hábogi, and Helga must be my wife,' was all he said. And

though Helga stood pale and trembling with surprise, she did not try

to run away.

'I cannot talk of such things just now,' answered the father, who

could not bear the thought of giving his favourite daughter to this

horrible old man, and hoped, by putting it off, that something might

happen. But the sisters, who had always been rather jealous of Helga,

were secretly pleased that their bridegrooms should outshine hers.

When the feast was over, Hábogi led up a beautiful horse from a field

where he had left it to graze, and bade Helga jump up on its splendid

saddle, all embroidered in scarlet and gold. 'You shall come back

again,' said he; 'but now you must see the house that you are to live

in.' And though Helga was very unwilling to go, something inside her

forced her to obey.

The old man settled her comfortably, then sprang up in front of her as

easily as if he had been a boy, and, shaking the reins, they were soon

out of sight.

After some miles they rode through a meadow, with grass so green that

Helga's eyes felt quite dazzled; and feeding on the grass were a

quantity of large fat sheep, with the curliest and whitest wool in the

world.

'What lovely sheep! whose are they?' cried Helga.

'Your Hábogi's,' answered he, 'all that you see belongs to him; but

the finest sheep in the whole herd, which has little golden bells

hanging between its horns, you shall have for yourself.'

This pleased Helga very much, for she had never had anything of her

own; and she smiled quite happily as she thanked Hábogi for his

present.

They soon left the sheep behind them, and entered a large field with a

river running through it, where a number of beautiful grey cows were

standing by a gate waiting for a milk-maid to come and milk them.

'Oh, what lovely cows!' cried Helga again; 'I am sure their milk must

be sweeter than any other cows'. How I should like to have some! I

wonder to whom they belong?'

'To your Hábogi,' replied he; 'and some day you shall have as much

milk as you like, but we cannot stop now. Do you see that big grey

one, with the silver bells between her horns? That is to be yours, and

you can have her milked every morning the moment you wake.'

And Helga's eyes shone, and though she did not say anything, she

thought that she would learn to milk the cow herself.

[Illustration: HÁBOGI'S HORSES

'OH DO STOP FOR A MINUTE,' SAID HELGA, BUT HÁBOGI WOULD NOT STOP OR

LISTEN]

A mile further on they came to a wide common, with short, springy

turf, where horses of all colours, with skins of satin, were kicking

up their heels in play. The sight of them so delighted Helga that she

nearly sprang from her saddle with a shriek of joy.

'Whose are they? Oh! whose are they?' she asked. 'How happy any man

must be who is the master of such lovely creatures!'

'They are your Hábogi's,' replied he, 'and the one which you think the

most beautiful of all you shall have for yourself, and learn to ride

him.'

At this Helga quite forgot the sheep and the cow.

'A horse of my own!' said she. 'Oh, stop one moment, and let me see

which I will choose. The white one? No. The chestnut? No. I think,

after all, I like the coal-black one best, with the little white star

on his forehead. Oh, do stop, just for a minute.'

But Hábogi would not stop or listen. 'When you are married you will

have plenty of time to choose one,' was all he answered, and they rode

on two or three miles further.

At length Hábogi drew rein before a small house, very ugly and

mean-looking, and that seemed on the point of tumbling to pieces.

'This is my house, and is to be yours,' said Hábogi, as he jumped down

and held out his arms to lift Helga from the horse. The girl's heart

sank a little, as she thought that the man who possessed such

wonderful sheep, and cows, and horses, might have built himself a

prettier place to live in; but she did not say so. And, taking her

arm, he led her up the steps.

But when she got inside, she stood quite bewildered at the beauty of

all around her. None of her friends owned such things, not even the

miller, who was the richest man she knew. There were carpets

everywhere, thick and soft, and of deep rich colours; and the

cushions were of silk, and made you sleepy even to look at them; and

curious little figures in china were scattered about. Helga felt as if

it would take her all her life to see everything properly, and it only

seemed a second since she had entered the house, when Hábogi came up

to her.

'I must begin the preparations for our wedding at once,' he said; 'but

my foster-brother will take you home, as I promised. In three days he

will bring you back here, with your parents and sisters, and any

guests you may invite, in your company. By that time the feast will be

ready.'

Helga had so much to think about, that the ride home appeared very

short. Her father and mother were delighted to see her, as they did

not feel sure that so ugly and cross-looking a man as Hábogi might not

have played her some cruel trick. And after they had given her some

supper they begged her to tell them all she had done. But Helga only

told them that they should see for themselves on the third day, when

they would come to her wedding.

It was very early in the morning when the party set out, and Helga's

two sisters grew green with envy as they passed the flocks of sheep,

and cows, and horses, and heard that the best of each was given to

Helga herself; but when they caught sight of the poor little house

which was to be her home their hearts grew light again.

'I should be ashamed of living in such a place,' whispered each to the

other; and the eldest sister spoke of the carved stone over _her_

doorway, and the second boasted of the number of rooms _she_ had. But

the moment they went inside they were struck dumb with rage at the

splendour of everything, and their faces grew white and cold with fury

when they saw the dress which Hábogi had prepared for his bride--a

dress that glittered like sunbeams dancing upon ice.

[Illustration: THE JEALOUS SISTERS SPELL-BOUND IN THE ASH-PIT]

'She _shall_ not look so much finer than us,' they cried

passionately to each other as soon as they were alone; and when night

came they stole out of their rooms, and taking out the wedding-dress,

they laid it in the ash-pit, and heaped ashes upon it. But Hábogi, who

knew a little magic, and had guessed what they would do, changed the

ashes into roses, and cast a spell over the sisters, so that they

could not leave the spot for a whole day, and every one who passed by

mocked at them.

The next morning when they all awoke the ugly little tumble-down house

had disappeared, and in its place stood a splendid palace. The guests'

eyes sought in vain for the bridegroom, but could only see a handsome

young man, with a coat of blue velvet and silver and a gold crown upon

his head.

'Who is that?' they asked Helga.

'That is my Hábogi,' said she.

[_Neuisländischen Volksmärchen._]

_HOW THE LITTLE BROTHER SET FREE HIS BIG BROTHERS_

In a small hut, right in the middle of the forest, lived a man, his

wife, three sons and a daughter. For some reason, all the animals

seemed to have left that part of the country, and food grew very

scarce; so, one morning, after a night of snow, when the tracks of

beasts might be easily seen, the three boys started off to hunt.

They kept together for some time, till they reached a place where the

path they had been following split into two, and one of the brothers

called his dog and went to the left, while the others took the trail

to the right. These had not gone far when their dogs scented a bear,

and drove him out from the thicket. The bear ran across a clearing,

and the elder brother managed to place an arrow right in his head.

They both took up the bear, and carried it towards home, meeting the

third at the spot where they had parted from him. When they reached

home they threw the bear down on the floor of the hut saying,

'Father, here is a bear which we killed; now we can have some dinner.'

But the father, who was in a bad temper, only said: