stone image of himself from its fastenings over the great door, he
grasped it with his powerful forelegs and flew up into the air. Then,
after hovering over the town for a moment, he gave his tail an angry
shake and took up his flight to the dreadful wilds. When he reached
this desolate region, he set the stone griffin upon a ledge of a rock
which rose in front of the dismal cave he called his home. There the
image occupied a position somewhat similar to that it had had over the
church-door; and the Griffin, panting with the exertion of carrying
such an enormous load to so great a distance, lay down upon the ground
and regarded it with much satisfaction. When he felt somewhat rested
he went to look for the Minor Canon. He found the young man, weak and
half-starved, lying under the shadow of a rock. After picking him
up and carrying him to his cave, the Griffin flew away to a distant
marsh, where he procured some roots and herbs which he well knew were
strengthening and beneficial to man, though he had never tasted them
himself. After eating these the Minor Canon was greatly revived, and
sat up and listened while the Griffin told him what had happened in the
town.
“Do you know,” said the monster, when he had finished, “that I have
had, and still have, a great liking for you?”
“I am very glad to hear it,” said the Minor Canon, with his usual
politeness.
“I am not at all sure that you would be,” said the Griffin, “if you
thoroughly understood the state of the case; but we will not consider
that now. If some things were different, other things would be
otherwise. I have been so enraged by discovering the manner in which
you have been treated that I have determined that you shall at last
enjoy the rewards and honors to which you are entitled. Lie down and
have a good sleep, and then I will take you back to the town.”
As he heard these words, a look of trouble came over the young man’s
face.
“You need not give yourself any anxiety,” said the Griffin, “about my
return to the town. I shall not remain there. Now that I have that
admirable likeness of myself in front of my cave, where I can sit at my
leisure, and gaze upon its noble features, I have no wish to see that
abode of cowardly and selfish people.”
The Minor Canon, relieved from his fears, lay back, and dropped into a
doze; and when he was sound asleep the Griffin took him up, and carried
him back to the town. He arrived just before daybreak, and, putting the
young man gently on the grass in the little field where he himself used
to rest, the monster, without having been seen by any of the people,
flew back to his home.
When the Minor Canon made his appearance in the morning among the
citizens, the enthusiasm and cordiality with which he was received were
truly wonderful. He was taken to a house which had been occupied by one
of the banished high officers of the place, and everyone was anxious
to do all that could be done for his health and comfort. The people
crowded into the church when he held services, so that the three old
women who used to be his week-day congregation could not get to the
best seats, which they had always been in the habit of taking; and the
parents of the bad children determined to reform them at home, in order
that he might be spared the trouble of keeping up his former school.
The Minor Canon was appointed to the highest office of the old church,
and before he died he became a bishop.
During the first years after his return from the dreadful wilds the
people of the town looked up to him as a man to whom they were bound to
do honor and reverence; but they often, also, looked up to the sky to
see if there were any signs of the Griffin coming back. However, in the
course of time, they learned to honor and reverence their former Minor
Canon without the fear of being punished if they did not do so.
But they need never have been afraid of the Griffin. The autumnal
equinox day came round, and the monster ate nothing. If he could
not have the Minor Canon, he did not care for anything. So, lying
down, with his eyes fixed upon the great stone griffin, he gradually
declined, and died. It was a good thing for some of the people of the
town that they did not know this.
If you should ever visit the old town, you would still see the little
griffins on the sides of the church; but the great stone griffin that
was over the door is gone.
THE CHRISTMAS TRUANTS
Christmas was coming, a long time ago, and the boys in a certain
far-away school were talking and thinking about it. Eleven of these
youngsters, who were all great friends, and generally kept together,
whether at work or play, held a secret meeting, at which they resolved
that they were tired of the ordinary ways of spending Christmas.
“We are bored to death,” said one of the older boys, “with Christmas
trees, with Christmas games, with Christmas carols, and with the
hanging-up of stockings on Christmas Eve. Such things may do very well
for children, but we have grown out of them.”
“That’s true!” cried the others. “We’ve grown out of that kind of
nonsense.”
“Yes, sir!” exclaimed the smallest boy of all, who was generally known
as Tomtit. “We’ve grown out of that.”
[Illustration: THEY WERE MARCHED AWAY TO THE ROBBER’S CASTLE.]
“Of course,” said the biggest boy, who was called by his companions Old
Pluck, because he had never been found to be afraid of anything,
“there will be this Christmas childishness at the school, just as
there has been always; and I propose that, instead of staying here and
submitting to it, we run away, and have a Christmas to suit ourselves.”
“Hurrah!” cried the other boys. “That’s what we shall do. Have a
Christmas to suit ourselves.”
Having made up their minds to this, these eleven boys, on the afternoon
of the next day but one to Christmas, ran away from school, in order
that they might find a place where they would be free to celebrate the
great holiday in whatever way they pleased. They walked as fast as they
could, little Tomtit keeping up bravely in the rear, although he was
obliged to run almost as much as he walked, until they were at a long
distance from the school. Night was now coming on, and Old Pluck called
a halt.
“Boys,” said he, “we will camp at the edge of that forest, and those
of you who have brought bows and arrows had better look about and see
if you can’t shoot some birds and rabbits for our supper. The unarmed
members must gather wood to make a camp-fire. But if you are tired,
Tomtit, you needn’t do anything.”
“Tired!” exclaimed the little fellow, standing up very straight and
throwing out his chest; “I should like to know why I should be tired.
I’ll go and bring some logs.”
Tomtit was very anxious to be considered just as strong and active as
the other boys. Every morning he used to get one of his companions to
feel the muscles of his arms, to see if they had not increased in size
since the day before.
The camp-fire was burning brightly when the boys with the bows and
arrows returned, stating that they had found it rather too late in the
day for game, and that it would be better to postpone the shooting
of birds and rabbits till the next morning. Old Pluck then asked
the members of his little company what provisions they had brought
with them; and it was found that no one except Tomtit had thought of
bringing anything. He had in his coat-pocket a luncheon of bread and
meat. It was thereupon ordered that Tomtit’s luncheon should be divided
into eleven portions, and the little fellow was given a knife with
which to cut it up.
It was at this time that there came through the forest a band of
robbers--five men and a chief. These men, on their way to their
castle, had been talking about the approach of Christmas.
“I am getting very tired,” said the chief, “of the wild revelries with
which on great occasions we make our castle ring. It would be a most
agreeable relief, methinks, if we could celebrate the coming Christmas
as ordinary people do. The trouble is we don’t know how.”
“You speak well,” replied one of his followers. “We would be glad
enough to have the ordinary Christmas festivities if we did but know
how such things are managed.”
The conversation was cut short at this point by the discovery of a
camp-fire at the edge of the wood. Instantly every robber crouched
close to the ground, and crept silently to the spot where the boys were
gathered around Tomtit, watching him as he cut up his luncheon.
In a few moments the chief gave a whistle, and then the robbers rushed
out, and each of the men seized two of the larger boys, while the chief
stooped down and grasped Tomtit by the collar. Some of the boys kicked
and scuffled a great deal; but this was of no use, and they were all
marched away to the robbers’ castle, little Tomtit feeling very proud
that it took a whole man to hold him by the collar.
When they reached the castle the boys were shut up in a large room,
where they were soon provided with a plentiful supper. Having finished
their meal, they were conducted to the great hall of the castle, where
the robber chief sat in his chair of state, a huge fire blazing upon
the hearth, while suits of armor, glittering weapons, and trophies of
many kinds were hung upon the walls.
The boys were now ordered to tell their story; and when Old Pluck had
finished it, the chief addressed his captives thus: “I am sure that you
young fellows could never have imagined the pleasure you were going to
give to me when you determined to run away from school at this happy
season.
“My men and myself have a fancy for a Christmas like that of other
people. We want a Christmas tree, Christmas carols and games, and all
that sort of festivity. We know nothing about these things ourselves,
and were wondering how we could manage to have the kind of Christmas
we want. But now that we have you boys with us, it will all be
simple and easy enough. You shall celebrate Christmas for us in the
manner to which you have always been accustomed. We will provide
you with everything that is necessary, and we will have a good old
school-and-home Christmas. You shall even hang up your stockings, and I
will see to it that Santa Claus for the first time visits this castle.
And now, my fine fellows, to bed with you, and to-morrow we will all go
to work to prepare for a good old-fashioned Christmas.”
The boys were conducted to a large upper room, where they found eleven
mattresses spread out upon the floor. They threw themselves upon their
beds; but not one of them could close his eyes through thinking of the
doleful plight which they were in. They had run away to get rid of the
tiresome old Christmas doings, and now they were to go through all
those very things just to please a band of robbers. The thought of it
was insupportable, and for an hour or two each boy rolled and moaned
upon his mattress.
At last Old Pluck spoke. “Boys,” he said, “all is now quiet below, and
I believe those rascally robbers have gone to bed. Let us wait a little
while longer, and then slip downstairs and run away. We can surely find
some door or window which we can open; and I, for one, am not willing
to stay here and act the part of a Christmas slave for the pleasure of
these bandits.”
“No,” exclaimed Tomtit, sitting up in bed, so as to expand his chest,
“we will never consent to that.”
The boys eagerly agreed to Old Pluck’s plan, and in about half an hour
they quietly arose and stole toward the stairs. The full moon was
shining in through the windows, so that they could see perfectly well
where they were going. They had gone a short distance down the great
staircase, when Old Pluck, who led the way, heard a slight noise behind
him. Turning to inquire what this was, he was told it was the cracking
of Tomtit’s knees.
“Pass the word to Tomtit,” he said, in a whisper, “that if he can’t
keep his knees from cracking he must stay where he is.”
Poor little Tomtit, who brought up the rear, was dreadfully troubled
when he heard this; but he bravely passed the word back that his knees
should not crack any more, and the line moved on.
It was difficult now for Tomtit to take a step, for if he bent his
knees they were sure to crack. He tried going downstairs stiff-legged,
like a pair of scissors; but this he found almost impossible, so he
made up his mind that the only thing he could do was to slide down the
broad banister. He was used to this feat, and he performed it with much
dexterity. The banister, however, was very smooth and steep, and he
went down much faster than he intended, shooting off at the bottom, and
landing on the floor on the broad of his back.
The boys were now in the great hall, and, seeing a light in the
adjoining room, they looked into it. There, upon couches made of the
skins of wild beasts, they saw the six robbers, fast asleep. A happy
thought now came into the mind of Old Pluck. Stepping back, he looked
around him, and soon perceived in one corner of the hall a quantity of
rich stuffs and other booty, bound up into bundles with heavy cords.
Taking out his knife he quickly cut off a number of these cords and
gave them to his companions.
“Boys,” he then whispered, “I have thought of a splendid plan. Let us
bind these robbers hand and foot, and then, instead of doing what they
want us to do, we can make them do what we want. That will be ever so
much better fun than running away.”
“Good!” said the boys. “But suppose they wake up while we are tying
them?”
“If we are truly brave,” said Old Pluck, “we must just go ahead, and
not think of anything like that.”
“Yes, sir,” said Tomtit, straightening himself and throwing out his
chest, “we mustn’t think of anything of that sort.”
The little fellow was terribly frightened at the idea of going into
that room and tying those big, savage men; but if the other fellows did
it, he was bound to do it too.
The boys now softly slipped into the room, and as the robbers slept
very soundly, it was not long before they were all securely bound hand
and foot, Old Pluck going around himself to see that every cord was
well drawn and knotted. Then, motioning to the boys to follow him, he
went into the great hall, and there he ordered his companions to arm
themselves.
This command was obeyed with delight by the boys. Some took swords,
some spears, while others bound around their waists great belts
containing daggers and knives. Old Pluck laid hold of a huge
battle-axe, while Tomtit clapped on his head the chief’s hat,
ornamented with eagle plumes, and took into his hand a thin, sharp
rapier, the blade of which was quite as long as himself.
When all were ready, the boys reëntered the other room, and, with
their weapons in their hands, stood over the sleeping robbers. Raising
his heavy battle-axe high above the head of the chief, Old Pluck called
out to him to awake. Instantly every man opened his eyes, and struggled
to rise. But when they found their hands and feet were tied, and saw
the boys with their swords and spears standing over them, and heard Old
Pluck’s loud voice ordering them not to move, every robber lay flat on
his back, and remained perfectly still.
“Now, then,” said Old Pluck to the chief, “if you do not promise that
you and your men will obey me for the next two days I will split your
head with this axe.”
“I am willing to parley with you,” said the chief, “and will listen to
all you have to say; but for mercy’s sake put down that battle-axe. It
is too heavy for you, and you will let it drop on me without intending
it.”
“No,” said Old Pluck, steadying the great axe as well as he could, “I
will hold it over you until we have made our bargain.”
“Speak quickly, then,” said the chief, his face turning pale as he
looked up at the trembling axe.
“All you have to do,” said Old Pluck, “is to promise that you and your
men will do everything that we tell you to do to-morrow and next day.
You will not find our tasks at all difficult, and it will be only for
two days, you know.”
“Any sort of a task, if it lasted a year,” said the chief, “would be
better than having you staggering over me with that battle-axe. I
promise without reserve for myself and men.”
“Very good,” said Old Pluck, letting down his axe as carefully as he
could. “And now we will set you free.”
The men were untied, and the boys went to bed, and the next morning
all breakfasted together in the great hall. When the meal was over the
chief pushed back his chair, and addressed the boys.
“Now, then, my young friends,” said he, “what is it that you wish me
and my men to do?”
Then stood up Old Pluck and said, “We boys, as I told you before, ran
away from school because we are tired of the old humdrum Christmas; and
nothing better could have happened to us than to get you fine fellows
into our power, as we have done. It will be the jolliest thing in the
world for us to see you and your band go through all the wild feats and
bold exploits which belong to robber life; and we would like you to
begin now, and keep it up all day and to-morrow.”
“But what would you have us do?” asked the chief, somewhat surprised.
“I should like to see you sack a village,” said Old Pluck. “How would
that suit you, boys?”
The boys all declared that they thought that would do very well, to
begin with.
The chief turned to his lieutenant and said: “Is there any village
round here that has not been recently sacked?”
The lieutenant reflected a moment. “There is Buville,” he said. “We
haven’t been there for six months.”
“Very good,” said the captain, rising; “we’ll sack Buville.”
In a short time the robber band, followed by the eleven boys, set out
for Buville, a few miles distant. When they came within sight of the
village the chief ordered his company to get behind a hedge which ran
on one side of the road, and thus stealthily approach the place.
As soon as they were near enough the chief gave a loud whistle, and the
whole company rushed wildly into the main street. The robbers flashed
their drawn swords in the sunlight and brandished their spears, while
the boys jumped and howled like so many apprentice bandits.
“Buville is ours!” cried the chief. “Come forth, ye base villagers, and
pay us tribute.”
“Come forth!” yelled little Tomtit. “Surrender, and trib!--I mean, pay
tribute.”
At this the people began to flock into the street; and presently the
principal man of the village appeared, carrying a sheet of paper and
pen and ink.
“Good-morning, bold sir,” he said, addressing the chief. “And what is
it you’ll have to-day? Shall we begin with flour? How will two barrels
do?”
The chief nodded, and the man wrote down on his paper two barrels of
flour.
“Sugar, hams, and eggs, I suppose?” continued the man.
The chief assented, and these were written down.
“Sundry groceries, of course?” said he. “And would you care for any
rich stuffs?”
“Well, I don’t know that we need any just now,” said the chief; “but
you might throw in enough gold-threaded blue taffeta to make a jerkin
for that little codger back there.”
“Three-quarters of a yard of blue taffeta,” wrote the man. And then he
looked up and asked: “Anything else to-day?”
“I believe not,” said the chief. And then brandishing his sword, he
shouted: “Back to your homes, base villagers, and thank your stars that
I let ye off so easily.”
“Home with ye!” shouted Tomtit, “and keep on star-thanking till we come
again.”
“You need be in no hurry about sending those things,” said the chief to
the principal man, as he was about to leave, “except the taffeta. I’d
like to have that to-day.”
“Very good,” said the other; “I’ll send it immediately.”
As the robbers and boys departed, the latter were not at all slow to
say that they were very much disappointed at what they had seen. It was
tamer than a game of football.
“The fact is,” said the chief, “these villagers have been sacked so
often that the people are used to it, and they just walk out and pay up
without making any row about it. It’s the easiest way, both for them
and for us; but I admit that it is not very exciting.”
“I should say not,” said Old Pluck. “What I want is ‘the wild rush and
dash, the clink and the clank, and the jingly-jank, hi-ho!’”
“That’s so!” shouted little Tomtit. “‘The clink and the clank, and the
jingly-jank, ho hi!’”
“I think we’ll next try a highway robbery,” said Old Pluck, “and stop a
company of travellers on the road. That must be exciting.”
The boys all shouted their assent to this plan, and the robber chief
led the way to the nearest high-road.
Here the whole party concealed themselves behind rocks and bushes, and
waited patiently for a company of travellers to pass by. It was a long,
long time before anybody came, and Tomtit had a sound nap in the shade
of a hedge.
At last dust was seen in the distance, and before long five horsemen
came riding up. They were all elderly men, and each of them led a mule
or a horse, loaded with heavy panniers and packages. With drawn swords
and brandished spears the robbers rushed out, followed by the boys,
with yells and shouts. Instantly the elderly men stopped and descended
from their horses.
“We surrender,” said the leader to the robber chief; “but we pray you
will not pillage us utterly. We are going to seek a new home for our
families, and for the money we get for the sale of these goods we
hope to buy the little land we need. If you take these, you leave us
nothing.”
The chief turned to Old Pluck, and said: “Well, what shall we do about
it? Shall we take their goods?”
“If you set out to do a thing,” said Old Pluck, “I don’t see why you
don’t do it. There’s no sense in backing down.”
“That’s so!” cried Tomtit, who had just wakened up, and pushed his
way through the hedge. “No backing down. Your money or your lives,
travellers. Take notice of that.”
“Lead away the horses and mules,” said the chief to his men, “and let
the travellers go.”
As they were leaving the scene of this exploit Old Pluck did not feel
altogether easy in his mind. “There used to be a good habit among
robbers,” he said to the chief, “and that was to give to the poor what
they took from the rich. We will go along this road until we meet some
really poor people, and we will give them these goods.”
The robbers and boys, with the loaded horses and mules, walked along
the road for nearly an hour, but met with no poor people. At last the
chief declared that it was time to turn and go back to the castle, if
they wanted to be there by dinner-time. The boys were very willing to
go to dinner, and the whole party retraced their steps.
When they reached the spot where they had robbed the travellers, they
were surprised to see the five elderly men sitting by the roadside,
groaning mournfully.
“What, here yet!” cried the chief. “What’s the matter?”
“There is no use going anywhere,” sadly replied the leader. “We have
no money with which to buy even food to eat, and no goods to sell. We
might as well die here as in any other place.”
“Boys,” exclaimed Old Pluck, after gazing a few moments on the
unfortunate group, “I don’t believe we will ever find anybody as poor
as these travellers now are. Let us give them the goods.”
“All right!” shouted the boys. And the loaded horses and mules were
delivered to their former owners.
After dinner the boys began to grumble a good deal at the
disappointments of the morning.
“We’ve done nothing yet,” cried Old Pluck, “that is half exciting
enough, and we are bound to have a good time this afternoon. I go in
for burning a town.”
“Hurrah!” said the boys. “We’ll burn a town!”
“That is a very serious thing,” said the chief. “Can’t you think of
something else?”
Old Pluck looked at him reproachfully. “We want something serious,” he
said. “What we’ve had so far is nothing but child’s play.”
The chief now saw that if he persisted in his objections he would hurt
the feelings of the boys, and so he consented to burn a town. A few
miles to the south there was a good-sized town, which the chief thought
would burn very well, and thither the boys and robbers repaired,
carrying blazing torches and fire-brands.
When they reached the town and had made known their purpose the people
were filled with alarm. They crowded into the streets and begged the
robbers not to burn their houses, their goods, and perhaps themselves
and their children.
The chief now took the boys aside, and consulted with them.
“I wish you would consider this matter a little more before you order
me to set this town in flames. I am told that there is a magazine
filled with gunpowder in the centre of the place, and there will be a
terrible explosion when the fire reaches it.”
“Hurrah!” cried the boys; “that will be splendid.”
“Many of these citizens will lose their lives,” said the chief, “and
the rest will be utterly ruined.”
“Now, look here,” cried Old Pluck, “there’s no use of always backing
down. I’m tired of it.”
“Very well,” said the chief, “but you yourselves must inform the people
of your decision.”
“We’ll do that,” said Old Pluck. “Tomtit, you go tell those people that
the town has got to burn, and there’s no use talking any more about it.”
“That’s so,” said Tomtit. “She has got to burn.” And with his chest
thrown out, and his hands in his pockets, the little fellow boldly
advanced to the crowd of people.