NORSE TALES.
"What are you reading?" asked Tug, who was the last boy in the world
to be interested in a book, unless it was one about animals, but who
had nothing else to do just then.
"A book of old stories."
"What about?--adventures, and things of that sort?"
"Partly. Some of them are fairy stories--about queer little people,
and animals that talk, and heavenly beings that help lost children,
and people that have hard times."
"Why, those are the very fellows we want to see. Let's hear about
'em--mebbe we can give 'em a job."
"Well, if you would like it, I'll read you this story I've just
begun," said Katy, good-naturedly.
"Much obliged. I think that would be tip-top."
So Katy read to him, as he lounged on the straw and gazed into the
bright fire, an old myth-story of the North Wind. How, away in a far
corner of Norway, there once lived a widow with one son. It was
midwinter, and she was weak, so the lad was obliged to go to the
"safe" (or cellar dug near the house, where the food was kept) to
bring the materials for the morning meal. The first time he went, and
the second, and again, at the third attempt, the fierce North Wind
blew the food out of his hands. These three losses vexed the lad
greatly, and he resolved to go to the North Wind and demand the food
back. After long travelling he found the home of the giant, far
towards the pole, and made his demand. The North Wind heard him, and
gave him a cloth which would serve all the finest dishes in the world
whenever the boy chose to spread it and call for them. On his way home
he stopped at a tavern for the night, and, spreading his cloth, had a
feast. The landlady was astonished, as well she might be, and thinking
what a useful thing such a tablecloth would be in a hotel, she stole
it while the lad was asleep, and put in its place one that looked like
it, but which had no secret power.
The lad, not suspecting the change, went home, and boasted gleefully
to his mother of what he had brought. But when he tried it, of course
the false cloth could do nothing, and the old lady both laughed at him
and scolded him. Vexed again, the lad hastened back, and accused the
North Wind of fraud. So the giant gave him a ram which would coin
golden ducats when commanded. Stopping at the tavern as before, the
landlord exchanged this remarkable animal for one from his own common
flock, and the lad found himself fooled a second time. Going back a
third time, he told the story to the North Wind, who gave the angry
lad a stout stick which, when it had been told to "lay on," would
never cease striking till the lad bade it to stop.
At the tavern, the landlord, thinking there was some useful
enchantment in the stick, tried to steal it also, but the boy was wide
awake. He shouted, "Lay on," and the landlord found himself being
clubbed till he was nearly dead, and gave back all that he had taken.
Then the boy went home, and he and his mother lived rich and happy
ever afterwards.
Tug's vigorous applause aroused the attention of the other two, who
may have been listening a little, and Aleck asked what the book was.
"Dr. Dasent's 'Norse Tales,'" Katy replied.
"Who or what is 'Norse'?" Jim inquired.
This was a question Tug had been wanting to ask too, but had felt
ashamed to expose his ignorance--one of the few things not really mean
which a boy has a right to be ashamed of.
"The Norse people," Katy said, "are the people of Scandinavia (or the
_Northmen_, as they were called in ancient times), and these stories
are those that old people have told their children in Norway and
Sweden for--oh! for hundreds of years. Many are about animals, and
others--"
"Give us one about an animal," Tug interrupted.
Very well, here's one that tells why the bear has so short a tail:
One day the Bear met the Fox, who came slinking along with a
string of fish he had stolen.
'Whence did you get these?' asked the Bear.
'Oh, my Lord Bruin, I've been out fishing, and caught them,'
said the Fox.
So the Bear had a mind to learn to fish too, and bade the Fox
tell him how he was to set about it.
'Oh, it's an easy craft for you,' said the Fox, 'and one soon
learned. You've only to go upon the ice, and cut a hole, and
stick your tail down into it; and so you must go on holding it
there as long as you can. You're not to mind if your tail
smarts a little; that's when the fish bite. The longer you hold
it, the more fish you'll get; and then, all at once, out with
it, with a cross pull sideways, and with a strong pull too.'
Yes; the Bear did as the Fox said, and held his tail a long,
long time down in the hole, until it was fast frozen in. Then
he pulled it out with a cross pull, and it snapped short off.
That's why Bruin goes about with a stumpy tail to this day.
[Illustration: "LAY ON!"]
When this short and stirring tale of a tail had been concluded, the
Captain's voice was heard.
"Now for bed!" he ordered, winding up his watch, whose golden hands
pointed to nine o'clock.
Partially undressing, they tucked themselves into their quilts and
blankets on the crackling straw, and silence followed. Sleep was slow
to close the eyes of the younger ones, who were kept awake by their
strange situation; and Rex, lying at Katy's feet, frequently raised
his head as the roaring wind shrieked through the tall trees outside,
or rattled a loose board in the roof with a strange noise.
The first one to awake next morning was Aleck, who looked at his watch
by the glimmer of the coals, and was surprised to find it after eight
o'clock, though only a gray light came through the little window of
the cabin. Creeping out, he raked the embers together, laid on some
fresh wood, and hung the kettle on the spike. Then he called his
companions, who sat up and rubbed their eyes.
"Katy, you lie still till the boys go off. We'll bring you some water,
and then you can have the house to yourself for a while. Get out of
this, you fellows! Jim, bring a pail of water for the cook. Tug, you
and I will go and see how the boat has stood the night."
Two minutes later they were gone. After Jim had brought the fresh
water (he was slow about it, because he had to rechop the well-hole)
the girl sprang up to make herself neat, and was busy at breakfast
when the boys pounded the door like a battering-ram with the
axe-handle, "so as surely to be heard," and begged to know if they
might come in.
"Good-morning!" she greeted them. "How is the weather?"
"Weather!" exclaimed Tug, spreading his hands before the fire, and
working his ears out from underneath a huge red comforter just as I
have seen a turtle slowly push his head beyond the folded skin of his
neck. "Weather! It's the roughest day I ever saw. I don't believe old
Zach himself could skate a rod against that wind."
(Zach was a six-foot-three lumberman in Monore, who was noted for his
great strength.)
"Then how can we go on?" asked Katy, dropping eggshells into the
coffee-pot.
"I'm afraid we can't," Aleck said, soberly; "at least, until this gale
goes down. It is very, very cold, and I'm sure we are much better off
here. Don't you all think so?"
"_You_ bet!" shouted Tug.
"You _bet_!" Jim echoed.
"Then I must worry about dinner," said Katy, with a pretended groan
which made them all laugh.
At breakfast came the promised chops. Then, while Katy and Jim set
the cabin into neat shape, the older lads went after more wood, and,
having done this, walked out to the neighboring marsh and cut great
armfuls of wild rice and rushes, with which to make their straw beds
thicker and softer. This, and other things, took up the morning, and
then all came in to help and hinder Katy while she got dinner.
When it had been set out they found half a boiled ham, potatoes, some
fried onions ("arctic voyagers always need to eat onions to prevent
scurvy, you know," Katy explained), and even bread and butter; but the
last item represented almost the end of their only loaf.
In the afternoon the wind moderated, the clouds that had made it so
dark in the morning cleared away, and the sun came out. Under the
shelter of the long wharf and breakwater they walked out on the ice to
the lighthouse, where they had been so often in midsummer; but now it
was shut up, for there would be no use in burning a signal-light on
the lake after the cold weather of the fall had put a stop to
navigation, until spring recalled the idle vessels.
Supper was simple, but they had lots of fun over it, and then all set
at work to help Aleck make straps of canvas to put over the shoulder
and across the breast when they were hauling on the drag-rope. This
contrivance saved chafing, and gave a better pull. Jim had pooh-poohed
the taking of a sail-needle and some waxed twine along as
unnecessary, but Aleck had persisted; and here was its service the
very first day. Before the trip was through with, everybody wanted a
hundred little articles they did not possess, worse than they would
have missed this sail-needle had it not been brought.