through the forest in the direction the witch pointed out to him. Soon
he came out from the forest and found himself upon the borders of a wide
lake, in the midst of which lay an island.
Harka now walked more slowly and delicately, trying to move with the
soft grace of a young and timid maiden.
At the edge of the lake he stooped and dipped the cup into the water.
The sunlight striking on the gold was reflected with a dazzling
brightness that could be seen even as far as the island.
Scarcely had he lifted the dripping cup from the water when he saw a
canoe shoot out from among the reeds of the island and come swiftly
toward the spot where he was standing. In it sat the sorcerer
Pahundootah, driving it forward with strong strokes.
As Harka looked at him, his heart beat heavy within him, for the
sorcerer was terrible to see, so hideous and cruel and treacherous was
his appearance.
But the youth managed to hide his feelings and turned aside with the shy
and downcast air of a timid maiden, and moved slowly toward the forest.
Charmed by his grace and beauty, Pahundootah followed him. He praised
the pretended maiden’s eyes, her lips, her hair, the grace with which
she moved, and poured words of love into Harka’s ears, begging him to
return with him to his island home and share his lodge, his food, and
fire.
Harka pretended to hesitate, but finally he allowed himself to be
persuaded, and entering the canoe, he sat down opposite the sorcerer,
giving him shy glances and trailing his hand through the water.
Pahundootah was as one bewitched. Hardly could he take his eyes from
Harka’s beauty. With strong strokes he drove the canoe through the
water and over to the island. Then he took Harka’s hand and led him to
where a fire was burning and an old hag was cooking supper. He spread a
robe for his love to sit on and threw himself at her feet. The hag who
was his mother watched them, muttering. Again and again she looked
suspiciously at Harka. At last the supper was cooked. She called Harka
to come and carry a bowl of it to the sorcerer. Harka moved toward her
softly, trying still to bear himself as a maiden, but the old woman
watched him suspiciously, and as he drew nearer she looked deep into his
eyes.
“Pahundootah,” she cried, “what magic has bewitched you? Can you not see
that this is no maiden, but a brave and daring warrior who has put on
this appearance in order to deceive you?”
Pahundootah sprang to his feet and looked at Harka with anger and
suspicion, but Harka turned away his head with an offended air. “Your
mother has insulted me,” he said. “She is angry because you have brought
me here and because you have spoken to me of love. Now I will go away
back to my own tribe where I will be free from insults.”
Slowly he walked away from the fire and down toward the reedy shore of
the island.
As Pahundootah watched the grace with which he walked and noted again
his long and glossy hair, he could not doubt but that his mother was
mistaken, and that this was really a maiden. He followed, begging Harka
to turn and smile upon him and return with him to the fire.
“No,” repeated Harka, “your mother has insulted me. It is better I
should return to my own people.”
By the side of the lake Harka sat down, and the sorcerer threw himself
down beside him, and laid his head in Harka’s lap.
Softly Harka passed his fingers through Pahundootah’s hair. Lulled by
his love and the touch of Harka’s fingers, the sorcerer’s eyelids
closed, and he sank into slumber. Then softly the lad drew from his
girdle the blade of grass the witch had given him and with one stroke
severed the head of Pahundootah from the body. Swiftly wrapping it in a
cloth he had brought for that purpose, he sped to where the canoe lay
among the rushes, and stepping into it, he drove it off across the water
with silent, powerful strokes.
When he reached the farther shore, he turned and looked back. Already
lights were moving about on the island. The old mother, grown
suspicious, was hunting for the sorcerer. Then suddenly across the water
sounded loud fierce wails and cries. By that, Harka knew they had
discovered Pahundootah’s body.
Without waiting longer, he sped back to the camp of the old witch. As
she saw him coming, she began to clap her hands, shouting, “You have
slain him! You have slain him! Harka has slain the enemy of
Wokonkatonzooeyepekahaichu!” and all the scalps that hung about her
shouted with her. “Now,” she cried, “you are a great warrior! Now no one
can laugh at you or scorn you.”
All that night as Harka lay beside the witch’s fire, he could hear, now
louder now fainter, the cries of Pahundootah’s people, and always,
[Illustration: When he reached the farther shore, he turned and looked
back. _Page 232_]
as they sounded louder, the old witch laughed with joy, and the scalps
laughed with her.
Early in the morning Harka set out to journey back to his tribe. For
three days he journeyed, and then he came within sight of the village.
It was toward dusk, and the Indians were gathered once more about their
fires. It was the children who saw him first, and they shouted,
laughing, “Here comes Harka! Here comes Harka. Hasten, Harka, or the
dark may catch you.” And the youths joined them in their laughter. “Have
you slain the sorcerer, Harka? Have you his head to show us?”
Then Harka answered proudly, “Look!” and uncovering the head, he held it
up before them.
For a moment all were silent, gazing awe-struck. Then a great shout
arose, “He has slain him! Harka has slain Pahundootah! He has brought
his head to show us!”
Then all gathered around him, youths and warriors, and the women and the
children also, and all wondered and hailed him as a hero. And from that
time Harka sat no more with those of his own age, but with the wise ones
and the warriors, and joined in their councils, and when the old chief
died, Harka was chosen chief and ruled his tribe and reared up children
and killed many enemies. And always he was known as Harka, the slayer of
Pahundootah.
SCHIPPEITARO
A JAPANESE STORY
There was once a brave Japanese lad who wished to go out into the world
and prove his courage in some great adventure. His father and mother did
not say no to this. Instead they gave him their blessing, and allowed
him to set forth.
For a long time he traveled along, crossing streams and passing through
villages, but nowhere did he meet with any adventures.
One evening, as dusk drew on, he found himself in a dark forest, and he
did not know which way to turn in order to get out of it. He wandered
this way and that, and always the night grew darker and the way rougher,
and then suddenly, between the tree trunks, he saw a red light shine
out; sometimes it shone brighter and sometimes dimmer, but never with a
steady shining.
He went toward the light, and before long he found himself near an old
ruined temple. Within a fire was burning, and the temple was full of
demon cats. They were leaping and whirling and dancing around the fire,
and as they danced they sang. The song had words and they sang them over
and over again, always the same thing.
At first the lad could not make out what the words were, but after he
had listened carefully for a while he understood; and this was what they
sang:
“To-night we dance, to-night we sing;
To-morrow the maiden they will bring.”
They would sing this over and over and over, and then suddenly they
would cease their bounding and whirling, and would stand still and all
cry together,--
“But Schippeitaro must not know!
But Schippeitaro must not know!”
The lad stayed there for a long time watching them, and the longer he
watched, the more he wondered.
After a while the fire burned low, they bounded less wildly, and their
songs were still. Then the fire died out, and soon afterward the lad
fell into a deep sleep.
When he awoke the next morning, he was both cold and stiff, and as he
rubbed his eyes and looked about him, he thought that all he had seen
the night before must have been only a dream, for the temple lay silent
and deserted, and there were no signs of the demon cats or their revels,
except a heap of burned-out ashes on the temple floor.
The lad arose from where he lay and went on his way wondering. Not long
after he came to the edge of the forest and saw before him a village. He
entered the village and looked about him, and everything was in mourning
and all the people seemed very sad. In front of one of the principal
houses a great crowd had gathered, and from within came a sound of
weeping and lamenting.
The lad joined the crowd, and looked in through the door of the house.
There he saw a maiden dressed as though for a festival, but she was very
pale, and tears were running down her face; an old man and an old
woman, who seemed to be her father and mother, sat one each side of
her, holding her hands, and they also were weeping, with the tears
running down their wrinkled faces. Two men were busy over a great chest
bound around with iron, and with iron hasps, and every time the old man
and woman looked at the chest, they shuddered and wept more bitterly
than ever.
This sight made the youth very curious, and he turned to a man beside
him and asked why the village was all in mourning, and why the beautiful
young girl and her parents were weeping so bitterly.
“Are you a stranger in these parts that you ask such questions?”
inquired the man.
“I come from beyond the other side of the forest, from far away,”
replied the youth, “and I know nothing of this village or what has
happened here.”
“Then I will tell you,” said the man. “Over in the forest yonder there
dwells a terrible demon. Every year he requires that a maiden shall be
offered up to him as a sacrifice. Many of our most beautiful maidens
have already been sacrificed to him, and to-day it is the turn of the
one you see within there, and she is the fairest of them all.”
“But why do not your men go into the forest and try to destroy this
demon?” asked the youth.
“It would be useless, for we have been told and know that no mortal arm
can prevail against him. He comes, as a cat, to the ruined temple over
yonder in the forest, and with him comes a great company of seeming
cats--but they also are demons and are his servants.”
When the youth heard this, he remembered the cats he had seen dancing in
the temple the night before and the song they had sung; and presently he
asked, “Who is Schippeitaro?”
When he asked this, those around who heard him began to laugh. “You
speak as though Schippeitaro were a man,” said they. “Schippeitaro is a
great dog that belongs to the Prince of this country. The Prince values
him highly, for he is as big as a lion and twice as fierce. Never
before was his like seen for strength and bigness, nor ever will be
again.”
The youth asked where the Prince kept the hound, and as soon as he had
learned this, he set off walking very rapidly in the direction the man
pointed out to him.
After a while he came to a house with a walled garden back of it. In
this house lived the man who had charge of Schippeitaro, and the walled
garden was for the dog to roam about in.
The youth knocked at the door, and presently the keeper of the dog
opened it and asked him what he wanted.
“I want to borrow your great hound, Schippeitaro, for the night, and I
will pay you well for lending him to me,” said the lad.
“That you will not do,” replied the keeper, “for I will not lend him to
you. He is the favorite dog of the Prince of this country, and it would
be as much as my life is worth to lend him to any one.”
Then the lad began to bargain with him. First he offered the man a third
of all his money if he might have the dog just until morning; then he
offered him the half of all his money, and then he offered him all of
it.
That was more than the man could withstand. “Very well”, said he, “you
may take the dog; but remember it is only for this one night, and you
must bring him back the first thing in the morning, and you need never
ask to borrow him again for I shall not lend him to you.”
A collar was then put around Schippeitaro’s neck, and a chain fastened
to it, and the lad took the chain in his hand and led the great dog back
to the village he had just come from.
When he came to the house where he had seen the maiden, they were just
about to put her in the chest, for that was always the way the maidens
who were to be sacrificed were carried to the temple.
But the youth bade them stay their hands. “Listen to me,” said he, “for
I know whereof I speak. I have seen these demons, and I have a plan by
which you may rid yourselves of them forever. Instead of the maiden, do
you put Schippeitaro into the chest, carry him to the temple and leave
him there. I myself will accompany you, and after you have gone, I will
stay there and watch. Believe me, no harm shall come from this, but
instead it will put an end to your having to offer up sacrifices to the
demon.”
At first the people would not listen to him, but afterward they agreed
to do as he wished, though they were very much frightened. The great
hound was put into the chest, the lid was fastened, and he was carried
away and placed in the temple instead of the maiden. After that the men
hastened back to the village, but the lad hid himself near by to wait
and watch for the demons as he had promised.
After a while it grew dark, and then, toward midnight, a dull red fire
shone in the temple, and the lad saw that it was full of demon cats
whirling and bounding and singing as they had before, but this time
there was with them a great fierce black cat, larger than any of them,
and he was the king of them all, and he leaped higher and sang louder
than any of them. This time their song was of how a maiden had been
brought to them as a sacrifice, and of what a tender morsel she would
be. Then they all shouted together:
“And Schippeitaro does not know!
And Schippeitaro does not know!”
Nearer and nearer they came to the chest. Almost they brushed against it
as they whirled about it. Then, with a cry, they bounded at it, and tore
it open.
At once, out from the box leaped Schippeitaro. The demons shrieked at
the sight of him and the great hound rushed at them and tore them. He
seized the King Demon by the throat and shook him till the life was
quite shaken out of him. Then he flew at the other cats, and when they
tried to escape out through the doors or windows, the youth stood there
with his sword and drove them back.
Many of the demons did Schippeitaro destroy that night; many of them he
scattered over the floor in pieces, and those who escaped fled so far
away that they were never seen in that neighborhood again.
But the youth returned to the house of the parents of the maiden and
asked them for her hand in marriage, for he had loved her from the
first moment he had seen her, because of her beauty, and her gentle air.
Gladly her parents agreed to give her to him, and the Prince himself
came to the marriage, bringing with him gifts both rich and rare, for he
had heard of the bravery and wit the youth had shown in ridding his
people of the demons who had distressed them, and he brought
Schippeitaro with him as a welcome guest.
After that the youth and his young wife returned to his own home, and
there they lived happy forever after, honored and admired by all who
knew them.
EROS AND PSYCHE
A GREEK TALE
There was once a Princess named Psyche who was so beautiful that no one
on earth could compare with her in fairness. When she went abroad the
people gathered in crowds to gaze upon her, and children strewed flowers
before her and offered her garlands, as though she were a goddess.
Now when Aphrodite, herself the Goddess of Beauty, heard of this, she
became very jealous of Psyche, and she called to her Eros, her son who
was the God of Love, and bade him cause Psyche to fall in love with the
ugliest and wickedest man in all the world.
“In this way she shall be punished for her pride and for her beauty,”
said Aphrodite, who was herself most proud and beautiful.
Now Eros was very curious to see this beauty of beauties, and so, in
invisible form, he visited the palace of Psyche’s father and went from
room to room until he came to where she sat with her two sisters. They
were all beautiful, but Psyche so far outshone the others that they
seemed pale beside her.
No sooner had Eros looked upon her, than he fell deeply in love with her
and determined to make her his bride. He therefore put it into her
father’s mind to consult an oracle as to what should be done with
Psyche, for already the King was fearful, lest her beauty bring down
upon him the anger of the gods.
So the King traveled secretly to the temple of Phoebus at Miletus, and
there he consulted the oracle; the oracle told him that Psyche must be
taken to the top of a high mountain and there left to be devoured by a
monster that the gods would send, and that in this way, and this way
alone, could the whole kingdom be saved from destruction.
When the King heard this, his heart was heavy within him, for of all his
daughters Psyche was the dearest to him, so he returned home very
sorrowful. The two older sisters cared little for his sadness, but
Psyche, who loved him tenderly, was grieved, and she went to him and
said, “My father, why are you so sorrowful and downcast?”
For a long time the King would not tell her what it was that troubled
him, but she was so urgent in her questions that at last he could keep
silence no longer, and he said, “My daughter, thy beauty is so great
that it has drawn upon us the anger of the gods, and even Aphrodite
herself is jealous of thee. The oracle at Miletus has spoken and has
told me that I and thou and thy sisters and all the city with us will be
destroyed, unless a certain sacrifice is made.”
Then Psyche asked him what was the sacrifice the gods demanded, and her
father answered, “Thou thyself, Psyche, art the sacrifice.”
When Psyche heard that, she cried aloud with terror, but presently she
asked her father how she was to be sacrificed, and he told her what else
the oracle had said, that she was to be taken out to a high mountain and
left there to be devoured by a monster the gods would send.
Then Psyche wept bitterly, but at last she said, “It is better that one
should perish than that all should be destroyed together. So let the
sacrifice be made, even as the oracle has directed.”
Then, soon afterward, Psyche was made ready; she was dressed as a bride,
in shining garments, and hung about with jewels, and at the time set by
the oracle, she was taken out and left alone upon the mountain. None
might stay to comfort her or to watch with her for the coming of the
monster.
But no sooner was she alone than Eros caused her to fall into a deep
sleep, and while she slept he carried her away to a secret palace he had
prepared for her. All about the palace were gardens, with shining
temples and fountains and winding paths and trees that bore all sorts of
strange and delicious fruits. The palace itself was very beautiful. The
walls were of ivory and cedar, and the roof was of gold. The ceilings
were of shining blue, set with precious stones like stars, and the
pillars that supported it were also of gold, wrought with shapes of
flowers and leaves and birds; and the floor was of stones of beautiful
colors set in strange patterns.
It was in this palace that Psyche awakened and, wondering, looked about
her.
Suddenly the voices of unseen maidens spoke to her sweetly, bidding her
have no fear. “We are your servants, Psyche,” they told her. “This
palace, these gardens, and we who are to serve you are the gift of one
who loves you. He desires only your happiness, and for you to be his
bride.”
Then all fear left Psyche, and she rose up and wandered through the
gardens, and from room to room of the palace, and everywhere she saw new
beauties. Soft music followed her, and in one place a feast of strange
and delicious foods and drinks was served to her, but she saw no one.
Everything was done for her by invisible hands.
All day Psyche amused herself by examining the beautiful things about
the palace and garden, and then, as night drew on, and she became weary,
she laid herself down upon a magnificent couch that had been prepared
for her.
Then suddenly, in the darkness, Psyche heard footsteps coming nearer and
nearer. Filled with terror, she listened. She feared it was the monster
that the gods were to send, and that it was coming now to destroy her.
But a voice, softer and sweeter than any she had ever heard, spoke to
her out of the darkness, bidding her have no fear.
“I am thy own true lover, Psyche,” said the voice. “It is for thee I
prepared this palace and these gardens. Only love me in return, and our
happiness will be so great that even the gods themselves can know no
greater.”
Then Psyche was filled with joy and with love for the one who spoke to
her so tenderly, and who had prepared all this happiness for her.
All night he stayed with her, and they held sweet talk together, but in
the early morning, before it was light, he left her, and she knew
nothing of how this unknown lover looked, but only that he was wise and
kind and tender.
Now every day Psyche wandered through the gardens or amused herself in
the palace, and feasted and heard sweet music, and was served in every
thing by unseen hands, and every night her unknown lover came to her,
but always he left before the morning and so she never saw him.
For a long time Psyche was very happy, but after a while she began to
think of her father and her sisters, and her heart yearned for them so
that she became sad and lonely.
One night she said to her lover, “Am I never again to see my father, nor
the sisters who are so dear to me?”
Then the unknown one asked her, “Are you so soon weary of me, Psyche?”
“I am not weary of you,” answered the Princess, “but I long with all my
heart to see my sisters that I may know that it is well with them, and
that they may know that it is well with me also. If I could see them but
once only, then I would be contented.”
Her unknown lover was silent for a while, and then he said. “I love you
so dearly that I can refuse you nothing, Psyche. I will bring your
sisters here to visit you, but they may stay with you only for three
days, and you must tell them nothing of me, however they may question
you, and if they offer you advice, you must not take it. Do not even
listen to it. Remember, if you disobey me, great sorrow will come upon
you and upon me also.”
Psyche was filled with joy at the thought that she was once more to see
her sisters, and eagerly she promised to heed the warnings of her lover
and to obey him in all things. But all night Eros (for it was he who was
her lover) was very sad and silent, for he feared that this wish of
Psyche’s would bring some misfortune on them.
The next night Eros caused Psyche’s sisters to fall into a deep sleep,
and while they were sleeping Zephyrus, who governs the winds, lifted
them up and carried them to a room in Psyche’s palace and left them
there.
In the morning, when the sisters awoke, they were amazed to find
themselves in an unknown palace, and their wonder was even greater when
Psyche came hastening to greet them, and when they found the palace and
all that was in it and the gardens round about it were hers, and were
all the gift of a lover, who had brought her there the day she was left
upon the mountain.
Psyche questioned them about their father and all that had happened
since she had left them, and after she had heard all there was to tell,
she took them through the palace and showed them the treasures, and led
them through the gardens, and they heard the music, and were served by
unseen hands. The more they saw, the more they wondered, and they became
very envious of Psyche. They asked her about the one who had given her
all these things, but Psyche turned these questions aside and would not
talk with them of her lover.
At the end of three days, when the time came for her sisters to leave
her, Psyche bade them choose what they would have of all they had seen
in the palace. She loaded them with jewels and treasures, and nothing
they asked for was refused them. Then they fell asleep, and in their
sleep Zephyrus carried them back again to their father’s castle, to the
place whence he had brought them, and the gifts that Psyche had given
them he left beside them.
After this Psyche was contented for a time and then once more she began
to long to see her sisters, and she begged Eros to bring them to visit
her as before.
“Psyche, do not ask me,” said Eros. “I feel that if they come again,
some misfortune will surely fall upon us.”