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[
    {
        "id": 1,
        "title": "Ebooks, Neither E, Nor Books",
        "author": "Cory Doctorow",
        "body": "For starters, let me try to summarize the lessons and intuitions\r\nI've had about ebooks from my release of two novels and most of a\r\nshort story collection online under a Creative Commons license. A\r\nparodist who published a list of alternate titles for the\r\npresentations at this event called this talk, \"eBooks Suck Right\r\nNow,\" [eBooks suck right now] and as funny as that is, I don't\r\nthink it's true.\r\n\r\nNo, if I had to come up with another title for this talk, I'd\r\ncall it: \"Ebooks: You're Soaking in Them.\" [Ebooks: You're\r\nSoaking in Them] That's because I think that the shape of ebooks\r\nto come is almost visible in the way that people interact with\r\ntext today, and that the job of authors who want to become rich\r\nand famous is to come to a better understanding of that shape.\r\n\r\nI haven't come to a perfect understanding. I don't know what the\r\nfuture of the book looks like. But I have ideas, and I'll share\r\nthem with you:\r\n\r\n1. Ebooks aren't marketing. [Ebooks aren't marketing] OK, so\r\nebooks *are* marketing: that is to say that giving away ebooks\r\nsells more books. Baen Books, who do a lot of series publishing,\r\nhave found that giving away electronic editions of the previous\r\ninstallments in their series to coincide with the release of a\r\nnew volume sells the hell out of the new book -- and the\r\nbacklist. And the number of people who wrote to me to tell me\r\nabout how much they dug the ebook and so bought the paper-book\r\nfar exceeds the number of people who wrote to me and said, \"Ha,\r\nha, you hippie, I read your book for free and now I'm not gonna\r\nbuy it.\" But ebooks *shouldn't* be just about marketing: ebooks\r\nare a goal unto themselves. In the final analysis, more people\r\nwill read more words off more screens and fewer words off fewer\r\npages and when those two lines cross, ebooks are gonna have to be\r\nthe way that writers earn their keep, not the way that they\r\npromote the dead-tree editions.\r\n\r\n2. Ebooks complement paper books. [Ebooks complement paper\r\nbooks]. Having an ebook is good. Having a paper book is good.\r\nHaving both is even better. One reader wrote to me and said that\r\nhe read half my first novel from the bound book, and printed the\r\nother half on scrap-paper to read at the beach. Students write to\r\nme to say that it's easier to do their term papers if they can\r\ncopy and paste their quotations into their word-processors. Baen\r\nreaders use the electronic editions of their favorite series to\r\nbuild concordances of characters, places and events.\r\n\r\n3. Unless you own the ebook, you don't 0wn the book [Unless you\r\nown the ebook, you don't 0wn the book]. I take the view that the\r\nbook is a \"practice\" -- a collection of social and economic and\r\nartistic activities -- and not an \"object.\" Viewing the book as a\r\n\"practice\" instead of an object is a pretty radical notion, and\r\nit begs the question: just what the hell is a book? Good\r\nquestion. I write all of my books in a text-editor [TEXT EDITOR\r\nSCREENGRAB] (BBEdit, from Barebones Software -- as fine a\r\ntext-editor as I could hope for). From there, I can convert them\r\ninto a formatted two-column PDF [TWO-UP SCREENGRAB]. I can turn\r\nthem into an HTML file [BROWSER SCREENGRAB]. I can turn them over\r\nto my publisher, who can turn them into galleys, advanced review\r\ncopies, hardcovers and paperbacks. I can turn them over to my\r\nreaders, who can convert them to a bewildering array of formats\r\n[DOWNLOAD PAGE SCREENGRAB]. Brewster Kahle's Internet Bookmobile\r\ncan convert a digital book into a four-color, full-bleed,\r\nperfect-bound, laminated-cover, printed-spine paper book in ten\r\nminutes, for about a dollar. Try converting a paper book to a PDF\r\nor an html file or a text file or a RocketBook or a printout for\r\na buck in ten minutes! It's ironic, because one of the frequently\r\ncited reasons for preferring paper to ebooks is that paper books\r\nconfer a sense of ownership of a physical object. Before the dust\r\nsettles on this ebook thing, owning a paper book is going to feel\r\nless like ownership than having an open digital edition of the\r\ntext.\r\n\r\n4. Ebooks are a better deal for writers. [Ebooks are a better\r\ndeal for writers] The compensation for writers is pretty thin on\r\nthe ground. *Amazing Stories,* Hugo Gernsback's original science\r\nfiction magazine, paid a couple cents a word. Today, science\r\nfiction magazines pay...a couple cents a word. The sums involved\r\nare so minuscule, they're not even insulting: they're *quaint*\r\nand *historical*, like the WHISKEY 5 CENTS sign over the bar at a\r\npioneer village. Some writers do make it big, but they're\r\n*rounding errors* as compared to the total population of sf\r\nwriters earning some of their living at the trade. Almost all of\r\nus could be making more money elsewhere (though we may dream of\r\nearning a stephenkingload of money, and of course, no one would\r\nplay the lotto if there were no winners). The primary incentive\r\nfor writing has to be artistic satisfaction, egoboo, and a desire\r\nfor posterity. Ebooks get you that. Ebooks become a part of the\r\ncorpus of human knowledge because they get indexed by search\r\nengines and replicated by the hundreds, thousands or millions.\r\nThey can be googled.\r\n\r\nEven better: they level the playing field between writers and\r\ntrolls. When Amazon kicked off, many writers got their knickers\r\nin a tight and powerful knot at the idea that axe-grinding yahoos\r\nwere filling the Amazon message-boards with ill-considered slams\r\nat their work -- for, if a personal recommendation is the best\r\nway to sell a book, then certainly a personal condemnation is the\r\nbest way to *not* sell a book. Today, the trolls are still with\r\nus, but now, the readers get to decide for themselves. Here's a\r\nbit of a review of Down and Out in the Magic Kingdom that was\r\nrecently posted to Amazon by \"A reader from Redwood City, CA\":\r\n\r\n[QUOTED TEXT]\r\n\r\n> I am really not sure what kind of drugs critics are\r\n> smoking, or what kind of payola may be involved. But\r\n> regardless of what Entertainment Weekly says, whatever\r\n> this newspaper or that magazine says, you shouldn't\r\n> waste your money. Download it for free from Corey's\r\n> (sic) site, read the first page, and look away in\r\n> disgust -- this book is for people who think Dan\r\n> Brown's Da Vinci Code is great writing.\r\n\r\nBack in the old days, this kind of thing would have really pissed\r\nme off. Axe-grinding, mouth-breathing yahoos, defaming my good\r\nname! My stars and mittens! But take a closer look at that\r\ndamning passage:\r\n\r\n[PULL-QUOTE]\r\n\r\n> Download it for free from Corey's site, read the first\r\n> page\r\n\r\nYou see that? Hell, this guy is *working for me*! [ADDITIONAL\r\nPULL QUOTES] Someone accuses a writer I'm thinking of reading of\r\npaying off Entertainment Weekly to say nice things about his\r\nnovel, \"a surprisingly bad writer,\" no less, whose writing is\r\n\"stiff, amateurish, and uninspired!\" I wanna check that writer\r\nout. And I can. In one click. And then I can make up my own mind.\r\n\r\nYou don't get far in the arts without healthy doses of both ego\r\nand insecurity, and the downside of being able to google up all\r\nthe things that people are saying about your book is that it can\r\nplay right into your insecurities -- \"all these people will have\r\nit in their minds not to bother with my book because they've read\r\nthe negative interweb reviews!\" But the flipside of that is the\r\nego: \"If only they'd give it a shot, they'd see how good it is.\"\r\nAnd the more scathing the review is, the more likely they are to\r\ngive it a shot. Any press is good press, so long as they spell\r\nyour URL right (and even if they spell your name wrong!).\r\n\r\n5. Ebooks need to embrace their nature. [Ebooks need to embrace\r\ntheir nature.] The distinctive value of ebooks is orthagonal to\r\nthe value of paper books, and it revolves around the mix-ability\r\nand send-ability of electronic text. The more you constrain an\r\nebook's distinctive value propositions -- that is, the more you\r\nrestrict a reader's ability to copy, transport or transform an\r\nebook -- the more it has to be valued on the same axes as a\r\npaper-book. Ebooks *fail* on those axes. Ebooks don't beat\r\npaper-books for sophisticated typography, they can't match them\r\nfor quality of paper or the smell of the glue. But just try\r\nsending a paper book to a friend in Brazil, for free, in less\r\nthan a second. Or loading a thousand paper books into a little\r\nstick of flash-memory dangling from your keychain. Or searching a\r\npaper book for every instance of a character's name to find a\r\nbeloved passage. Hell, try clipping a pithy passage out of a\r\npaper book and pasting it into your sig-file.\r\n\r\n6. Ebooks demand a different attention span (but not a shorter\r\none). [Ebooks demand a different attention span (but not a\r\nshorter one).] Artists are always disappointed by their\r\naudience's attention-spans. Go back far enough and you'll find\r\ncuneiform etchings bemoaning the current Sumerian go-go lifestyle\r\nwith its insistence on myths with plotlines and characters and\r\naction, not like we had in the old days. As artists, it would be\r\na hell of a lot easier if our audiences were more tolerant of our\r\npenchant for boring them. We'd get to explore a lot more ideas\r\nwithout worrying about tarting them up with easy-to-swallow\r\nchocolate coatings of entertainment. We like to think of\r\nshortened attention spans as a product of the information age,\r\nbut check this out:\r\n\r\n[Nietzsche quote]\r\n\r\n> To be sure one thing necessary above all: if one is to\r\n> practice reading as an *art* in this way, something\r\n> needs to be un-learned most thoroughly in these days.\r\n\r\nIn other words, if my book is too boring, it's because you're not\r\npaying enough attention. Writers say this stuff all the time, but\r\nthis quote isn't from this century or the last. [Nietzsche quote\r\nwith attribution] It's from the preface to Nietzsche's \"Genealogy\r\nof Morals,\" published in *1887.*\r\n\r\nYeah, our attention-spans are *different* today, but they aren't\r\nnecessarily *shorter*. Warren Ellis's fans managed to hold the\r\nstoryline for Transmetropolitan [Transmet cover] in their minds\r\nfor *five years* while the story trickled out in monthly\r\nfunnybook installments. JK Rowlings's installments on the Harry\r\nPotter series get fatter and fatter with each new volume. Entire\r\nforests are sacrificed to long-running series fiction like Robert\r\nJordan's Wheel of Time books, each of which is approximately\r\n20,000 pages long (I may be off by an order of magnitude one way\r\nor another here). Sure, presidential debates are conducted in\r\nsoundbites today and not the days-long oratory extravaganzas of\r\nthe Lincoln-Douglas debates, but people manage to pay attention\r\nto the 24-month-long presidential campaigns from start to finish.\r\n\r\n7. We need *all* the ebooks. [We need *all* the ebooks] The vast\r\nmajority of the words ever penned are lost to posterity. No one\r\nlibrary collects all the still-extant books ever written and no\r\none person could hope to make a dent in that corpus of written\r\nwork. None of us will ever read more than the tiniest sliver of\r\nhuman literature. But that doesn't mean that we can stick with\r\njust the most popular texts and get a proper ebook revolution.\r\n\r\nFor starters, we're all edge-cases. Sure, we all have the shared\r\ndesire for the core canon of literature, but each of us want to\r\ncomplete that collection with different texts that are as\r\ndistinctive and individualistic as fingerprints. If we all look\r\nlike we're doing the same thing when we read, or listen to music,\r\nor hang out in a chatroom, that's because we're not looking\r\nclosely enough. The shared-ness of our experience is only present\r\nat a coarse level of measurement: once you get into really\r\ngranular observation, there are as many differences in our\r\n\"shared\" experience as there are similarities.\r\n\r\nMore than that, though, is the way that a large collection of\r\nelectronic text differs from a small one: it's the difference\r\nbetween a single book, a shelf full of books and a library of\r\nbooks. Scale makes things different. Take the Web: none of us can\r\nhope to read even a fraction of all the pages on the Web, but by\r\nanalyzing the link structures that bind all those pages together,\r\nGoogle is able to actually tease out machine-generated\r\nconclusions about the relative relevance of different pages to\r\ndifferent queries. None of us will ever eat the whole corpus, but\r\nGoogle can digest it for us and excrete the steaming nuggets of\r\ngoodness that make it the search-engine miracle it is today.\r\n\r\n8. Ebooks are like paper books. [Ebooks are like paper books]. To\r\nround out this talk, I'd like to go over the ways that ebooks are\r\nmore like paper books than you'd expect. One of the truisms of\r\nretail theory is that purchasers need to come into contact with a\r\ngood several times before they buy -- seven contacts is tossed\r\naround as the magic number. That means that my readers have to\r\nhear the title, see the cover, pick up the book, read a review,\r\nand so forth, seven times, on average, before they're ready to\r\nbuy.\r\n\r\nThere's a temptation to view downloading a book as comparable to\r\nbringing it home from the store, but that's the wrong metaphor.\r\nSome of the time, maybe most of the time, downloading the text of\r\nthe book is like taking it off the shelf at the store and looking\r\nat the cover and reading the blurbs (with the advantage of not\r\nhaving to come into contact with the residual DNA and burger king\r\nleft behind by everyone else who browsed the book before you).\r\nSome writers are horrified at the idea that three hundred\r\nthousand copies of my first novel were downloaded and \"only\" ten\r\nthousand or so were sold so far. If it were the case that for\r\never copy sold, thirty were taken home from the store, that would\r\nbe a horrifying outcome, for sure. But look at it another way: if\r\none out of every thirty people who glanced at the cover of my\r\nbook bought it, I'd be a happy author. And I am. Those downloads\r\ncost me no more than glances at the cover in a bookstore, and the\r\nsales are healthy.\r\n\r\nWe also like to think of physical books as being inherently\r\n*countable* in a way that digital books aren't (an irony, since\r\ncomputers are damned good at counting things!). This is\r\nimportant, because writers get paid on the basis of the number of\r\ncopies of their books that sell, so having a good count makes a\r\ndifference. And indeed, my royalty statements contain precise\r\nnumbers for copies printed, shipped, returned and sold.\r\n\r\nBut that's a false precision. When the printer does a run of a\r\nbook, it always runs a few extra at the start and finish of the\r\nrun to make sure that the setup is right and to account for the\r\noccasional rip, drop, or spill. The actual total number of books\r\nprinted is approximately the number of books ordered, but never\r\nexactly -- if you've ever ordered 500 wedding invitations,\r\nchances are you received 500-and-a-few back from the printer and\r\nthat's why.\r\n\r\nAnd the numbers just get fuzzier from there. Copies are stolen.\r\nCopies are dropped. Shipping people get the count wrong. Some\r\ncopies end up in the wrong box and go to a bookstore that didn't\r\norder them and isn't invoiced for them and end up on a sale table\r\nor in the trash. Some copies are returned as damaged. Some are\r\nreturned as unsold. Some come back to the store the next morning\r\naccompanied by a whack of buyer's remorse. Some go to the place\r\nwhere the spare sock in the dryer ends up.\r\n\r\nThe numbers on a royalty statement are actuarial, not actual.\r\nThey represent a kind of best-guess approximation of the copies\r\nshipped, sold, returned and so forth. Actuarial accounting works\r\npretty well: well enough to run the juggernaut banking,\r\ninsurance, and gambling industries on. It's good enough for\r\ndivvying up the royalties paid by musical rights societies for\r\nradio airplay and live performance. And it's good enough for\r\ncounting how many copies of a book are distributed online or off.\r\n\r\nCounts of paper books are differently precise from counts of\r\nelectronic books, sure: but neither one is inherently countable.\r\n\r\nAnd finally, of course, there's the matter of selling books.\r\nHowever an author earns her living from her words, printed or\r\nencoded, she has as her first and hardest task to find her\r\naudience. There are more competitors for our attention than we\r\ncan possibly reconcile, prioritize or make sense of. Getting a\r\nbook under the right person's nose, with the right pitch, is the\r\nhardest and most important task any writer faces.\r\n\r\n#\r\n\r\nI care about books, a lot. I started working in libraries and\r\nbookstores at the age of 12 and kept at it for a decade, until I\r\nwas lured away by the siren song of the tech world. I knew I\r\nwanted to be a writer at the age of 12, and now, 20 years later,\r\nI have three novels, a short story collection and a nonfiction\r\nbook out, two more novels under contract, and another book in the\r\nworks. [BOOK COVERS] I've won a major award in my genre, science\r\nfiction, [CAMPBELL AWARD] and I'm nominated for another one, the\r\n2003 Nebula Award for best novelette. [NEBULA]\r\n\r\nI own a *lot* of books. Easily more than 10,000 of them, in\r\nstorage on both coasts of the North American continent [LIBRARY\r\nLADDER]. I have to own them, since they're the tools of my trade:\r\nthe reference works I refer to as a novelist and writer today.\r\nMost of the literature I dig is very short-lived, it disappears\r\nfrom the shelf after just a few months, usually for good. Science\r\nfiction is inherently ephemeral. [ACE DOUBLES]\r\n\r\nNow, as much as I love books, I love computers, too. Computers\r\nare fundamentally different from modern books in the same way\r\nthat printed books are different from monastic Bibles: they are\r\nmalleable. Time was, a \"book\" was something produced by many\r\nmonths' labor by a scribe, usually a monk, on some kind of\r\ndurable and sexy substrate like foetal lambskin. [ILLUMINATED\r\nBIBLE] Gutenberg's xerox machine changed all that, changed a book\r\ninto something that could be simply run off a press in a few\r\nminutes' time, on substrate more suitable to ass-wiping than\r\nexaltation in a place of honor in the cathedral. The Gutenberg\r\npress meant that rather than owning one or two books, a member of\r\nthe ruling class could amass a library, and that rather than\r\npicking only a few subjects from enshrinement in print, a huge\r\nvariety of subjects could be addressed on paper and handed from\r\nperson to person. [KAPITAL/TIJUANA BIBLE]\r\n\r\nMost new ideas start with a precious few certainties and a lot of\r\nspeculation. I've been doing a bunch of digging for certainties\r\nand a lot of speculating lately, and the purpose of this talk is\r\nto lay out both categories of ideas.\r\n\r\nThis all starts with my first novel, Down and Out in the Magic\r\nKingdom [COVER], which came out on January 9, 2003. At that time,\r\nthere was a lot of talk in my professional circles about, on the\r\none hand, the dismal failure of ebooks, and, on the other, the\r\nnew and scary practice of ebook \"piracy.\" [alt.binaries.e-books\r\nscreengrab] It was strikingly weird that no one seemed to notice\r\nthat the idea of ebooks as a \"failure\" was at strong odds with\r\nthe notion that electronic book \"piracy\" was worth worrying\r\nabout: I mean, if ebooks are a failure, then who gives a rats if\r\nintarweb dweebs are trading them on Usenet?\r\n\r\nA brief digression here, on the double meaning of \"ebooks.\" One\r\nmeaning for that word is \"legitimate\" ebook ventures, that is to\r\nsay, rightsholder-authorized editions of the texts of books,\r\nreleased in a proprietary, use-restricted format, sometimes for\r\nuse on a general-purpose PC and sometimes for use on a\r\nspecial-purpose hardware device like the nuvoMedia Rocketbook\r\n[ROCKETBOOK]. The other meaning for ebook is a \"pirate\" or\r\nunauthorized electronic edition of a book, usually made by\r\ncutting the binding off of a book and scanning it a page at a\r\ntime, then running the resulting bitmaps through an optical\r\ncharacter recognition app to convert them into ASCII text, to be\r\ncleaned up by hand. These books are pretty buggy, full of errors\r\nintroduced by the OCR. A lot of my colleagues worry that these\r\nbooks also have deliberate errors, created by mischievous\r\nbook-rippers who cut, add or change text in order to \"improve\"\r\nthe work. Frankly, I have never seen any evidence that any\r\nbook-ripper is interested in doing this, and until I do, I think\r\nthat this is the last thing anyone should be worrying about.\r\n\r\nBack to Down and Out in the Magic Kingdom [COVER]. Well, not yet.\r\nI want to convey to you the depth of the panic in my field over\r\nebook piracy, or \"bookwarez\" as it is known in book-ripper\r\ncircles. Writers were joining the discussion on\r\nalt.binaries.ebooks using assumed names, claiming fear of\r\nretaliation from scary hax0r kids who would presumably screw up\r\ntheir credit-ratings in retaliation for being called thieves. My\r\neditor, a blogger, hacker and\r\nguy-in-charge-of-the-largest-sf-line-in-the-world named Patrick\r\nNielsen Hayden posted to one of the threads in the newsgroup,\r\nsaying, in part [SCREENGRAB]:\r\n\r\n> Pirating copyrighted etext on Usenet and elsewhere is going to\r\n> happen more and more, for the same reasons that everyday folks\r\n> make audio cassettes from vinyl LPs and audio CDs, and\r\n> videocassette copies of store-bought videotapes.  Partly it's\r\n> greed; partly it's annoyance over retail prices; partly it's the\r\n> desire to Share Cool Stuff (a motivation usually underrated by\r\n> the victims of this kind of small-time hand-level piracy).\r\n> Instantly going to Defcon One over it and claiming it's morally\r\n> tantamount to mugging little old ladies in the street will make\r\n> it kind of difficult to move forward from that position when it\r\n> doesn't work.  In the 1970s, the record industry shrieked that\r\n> \"home taping is killing music.\" It's hard for ordinary folks to\r\n> avoid noticing that music didn't die.  But the record industry's\r\n> credibility on the subject wasn't exactly enhanced.\r\n\r\nPatrick and I have a long relationship, starting when I was 18\r\nyears old and he kicked in toward a scholarship fund to send me\r\nto a writers' workshop, continuing to a fateful lunch in New York\r\nin the mid-Nineties when I showed him a bunch of Project\r\nGutenberg texts on my Palm Pilot and inspired him to start\r\nlicensing Tor's titles for PDAs [PEANUTPRESS SCREENGRAB], to the\r\nturn-of-the-millennium when he bought and then published my first\r\nnovel (he's bought three more since -- I really like Patrick!).\r\n\r\nRight as bookwarez newgroups were taking off, I was shocked silly\r\nby legal action by one of my colleagues against AOL/Time-Warner\r\nfor carrying the alt.binaries.ebooks newsgroup. This writer\r\nalleged that AOL should have a duty to remove this newsgroup,\r\nsince it carried so many infringing files, and that its failure\r\nto do so made it a contributory infringer, and so liable for the\r\nincredibly stiff penalties afforded by our newly minted copyright\r\nlaws like the No Electronic Theft Act and the loathsome Digital\r\nMillennium Copyright Act or DMCA.\r\n\r\nNow there was a scary thought: there were people out there who\r\nthought the world would be a better place if ISPs were given the\r\nduty of actively policing and censoring the websites and\r\nnewsfeeds their customers had access to, including a requirement\r\nthat ISPs needed to determine, all on their own, what was an\r\nunlawful copyright infringement -- something more usually left up\r\nto judges in the light of extensive amicus briefings from\r\nesteemed copyright scholars [WIND DONE GONE GRAPHIC].\r\n\r\nThis was a stupendously dumb idea, and it offended me down to my\r\nboots. Writers are supposed to be advocates of free expression,\r\nnot censorship. It seemed that some of my colleagues loved the\r\nFirst Amendment, but they were reluctant to share it with the\r\nrest of the world.\r\n\r\nWell, dammit, I had a book coming out, and it seemed to be an\r\nopportunity to try to figure out a little more about this ebook\r\nstuff. On the one hand, ebooks were a dismal failure. On the\r\nother hand, there were more books posted to alt.binaries.ebooks\r\nevery day.\r\n\r\nThis leads me into the two certainties I have about ebooks:\r\n\r\n1. More people are reading more words off more screens every day\r\n[GRAPHIC]\r\n\r\n2. Fewer people are reading fewer words off fewer pages every day\r\n[GRAPHIC]\r\n\r\nThese two certainties begged a lot of questions.\r\n\r\n[CHART: EBOOK FAILINGS]\r\n\r\n* Screen resolutions are too low to effectively replace paper\r\n\r\n* People want to own physical books because of their visceral\r\nappeal (often this is accompanied by a little sermonette on how\r\ngood books smell, or how good they look on a bookshelf, or how\r\nevocative an old curry stain in the margin can be)\r\n\r\n* You can't take your ebook into the tub\r\n\r\n* You can't read an ebook without power and a computer\r\n\r\n* File-formats go obsolete, paper has lasted for a long time\r\n\r\nNone of these seemed like very good explanations for the\r\n\"failure\" of ebooks to me. If screen resolutions are too low to\r\nreplace paper, then how come everyone I know spends more time\r\nreading off a screen every year, up to and including my sainted\r\ngrandmother (geeks have a really crappy tendency to argue that\r\ncertain technologies aren't ready for primetime because their\r\ngrandmothers won't use them -- well, my grandmother sends me\r\nemail all the time. She types 70 words per minute, and loves to\r\nshow off grandsonular email to her pals around the pool at her\r\nFlorida retirement condo)?\r\n\r\nThe other arguments were a lot more interesting, though. It\r\nseemed to me that electronic books are *different* from paper\r\nbooks, and have different virtues and failings. Let's think a\r\nlittle about what the book has gone through in years gone by.\r\nThis is interesting because the history of the book is the\r\nhistory of the Enlightenment, the Reformation, the Pilgrims, and,\r\nultimately the colonizing of the Americas and the American\r\nRevolution.\r\n\r\nBroadly speaking, there was a time when books were hand-printed\r\non rare leather by monks. The only people who could read them\r\nwere priests, who got a regular eyeful of the really cool\r\ncartoons the monks drew in the margins. The priests read the\r\nbooks aloud, in Latin [LATIN BIBLE] (to a predominantly\r\nnon-Latin-speaking audience) in cathedrals, wreathed in pricey\r\nincense that rose from censers swung by altar boys.\r\n\r\nThen Johannes Gutenberg invented the printing press. Martin\r\nLuther turned that press into a revolution. [LUTHER BIBLE] He\r\nprinted Bibles in languages that non-priests could read, and\r\ndistributed them to normal people who got to read the word of God\r\nall on their own. The rest, as they say, is history.\r\n\r\nHere are some interesting things to note about the advent of the\r\nprinting press:\r\n\r\n[CHART: LUTHER VERSUS THE MONKS]\r\n\r\n* Luther Bibles lacked the manufacturing quality of the\r\nilluminated Bibles. They were comparatively cheap and lacked the\r\ntypographical expressiveness that a really talented monk could\r\nbring to bear when writing out the word of God\r\n\r\n* Luther Bibles were utterly unsuited to the traditional use-case\r\nfor Bibles. A good Bible was supposed to reinforce the authority\r\nof the man at the pulpit. It needed heft, it needed\r\nimpressiveness, and most of all, it needed rarity.\r\n\r\n* The user-experience of Luther Bibles sucked. There was no\r\nincense, no altar boys, and who (apart from the priesthood) knew\r\nthat reading was so friggin' hard on the eyes?\r\n\r\n* Luther Bibles were a lot less trustworthy than the illuminated\r\nnumbers. Anyone with a press could run one off, subbing in any\r\napocryphal text he wanted -- and who knew how accurate that\r\ntranslation was? Monks had an entire Papacy behind them, running\r\na quality-assurance operation that had stood Europe in good stead\r\nfor centuries.\r\n\r\nIn the late nineties, I went to conferences where music execs\r\npatiently explained that Napster was doomed, because you didn't\r\nget any cover-art or liner-notes with it, you couldn't know if\r\nthe rip was any good, and sometimes the connection would drop\r\nmid-download. I'm sure that many Cardinals espoused the points\r\nraised above with equal certainty.\r\n\r\nWhat the record execs and the cardinals missed was all the ways\r\nthat Luther Bibles kicked ass:\r\n\r\n[CHART: WHY LUTHER BIBLES KICKED ASS]\r\n\r\n* They were cheap and fast. Loads of people could acquire them\r\nwithout having to subject themselves to the authority and\r\napproval of the Church\r\n\r\n* They were in languages that non-priests could read. You no\r\nlonger had to take the Church's word for it when its priests\r\nexplained what God really meant\r\n\r\n* They birthed a printing-press ecosystem in which lots of books\r\nflourished. New kinds of fiction, poetry, politics, scholarship\r\nand so on were all enabled by the printing presses whose initial\r\npopularity was spurred by Luther's ideas about religion.\r\n\r\nNote that all of these virtues are orthagonal to the virtues of a\r\nmonkish Bible. That is, none of the things that made the\r\nGutenberg press a success were the things that made monk-Bibles a\r\nsuccess.\r\n\r\nBy the same token, the reasons to love ebooks have precious\r\nlittle to do with the reasons to love paper books.\r\n\r\n[CHART: WHY EBOOKS KICK ASS]\r\n\r\n* They are easy to share. Secrets of Ya-Ya Sisterhood went from a\r\nmidlist title to a bestseller by being passed from hand to hand\r\nby women in reading circles. Slashdorks and other netizens have\r\nsocial life as rich as reading-circlites, but they don't ever get\r\nto see each other face to face; the only kind of book they can\r\npass from hand to hand is an ebook. What's more, the single\r\nfactor most correlated with a purchase is a recommendation from a\r\nfriend -- getting a book recommended by a pal is more likely to\r\nsell you on it than having read and enjoyed the preceding volume\r\nin a series!\r\n\r\n* They are easy to slice and dice. This is where the Mac\r\nevangelist in me comes out -- minority platforms matter. It's a\r\ntruism of the Napsterverse that most of the files downloaded are\r\nbog-standard top-40 tracks, like 90 percent or so, and I believe\r\nit. We all want to popular music. That's why it's popular. But\r\nthe interesting thing is the other ten percent. Bill Gates told\r\nthe New York Times that Microsoft lost the search wars by doing\r\n\"a good job on the 80 percent of common queries and ignor[ing]\r\nthe other stuff. But it's the remaining 20 percent that counts,\r\nbecause that's where the quality perception is.\" Why did Napster\r\ncaptivate so many of us? Not because it could get us the top-40\r\ntracks that we could hear just by snapping on the radio: it was\r\nbecause 80 percent of the music ever recorded wasn't available\r\nfor sale anywhere in the world, and in that 80 percent were all\r\nthe songs that had ever touched us, all the earworms that had\r\nbeen lodged in our hindbrains, all the stuff that made us smile\r\nwhen we heard it. Those songs are different for all of us, but\r\nthey share the trait of making the difference between a\r\ncompelling service and, well, top-40 Clearchannel radio\r\nprogramming. It was the minority of tracks that appealed to the\r\nmajority of us. By the same token, the malleability of electronic\r\ntext means that it can be readily repurposed: you can throw it on\r\na webserver or convert it to a format for your favorite PDA; you\r\ncan ask your computer to read it aloud or you can search the text\r\nfor a quotation to cite in a book report or to use in your sig.\r\nIn other words, most people who download the book do so for the\r\npredictable reason, and in a predictable format -- say, to sample\r\na chapter in the HTML format before deciding whether to buy the\r\nbook -- but the thing that differentiates a boring e-text\r\nexperience from an exciting one is the minority use -- printing\r\nout a couple chapters of the book to bring to the beach rather\r\nthan risk getting the hardcopy wet and salty.\r\n\r\nTool-makers and software designers are increasingly aware of the\r\nnotion of \"affordances\" in design. You can bash a nail into the\r\nwall with any heavy, heftable object from a rock to a hammer to a\r\ncast-iron skillet. However, there's something about a hammer that\r\ncries out for nail-bashing, it has affordances that tilt its\r\nholder towards swinging it. And, as we all know, when all you\r\nhave is a hammer, everything starts to look like a nail.\r\n\r\nThe affordance of a computer -- the thing it's designed to do --\r\nis to slice-and-dice collections of bits. The affordance of the\r\nInternet is to move bits at very high speed around the world at\r\nlittle-to-no cost. It follows from this that the center of the\r\nebook experience is going to involve slicing and dicing text and\r\nsending it around.\r\n\r\nCopyright lawyers have a word for these activities: infringement.\r\nThat's because copyright gives creators a near-total monopoly\r\nover copying and remixing of their work, pretty much forever\r\n(theoretically, copyright expires, but in actual practice,\r\ncopyright gets extended every time the early Mickey Mouse\r\ncartoons are about to enter the public domain, because Disney\r\nswings a very big stick on the Hill).\r\n\r\nThis is a huge problem. The biggest possible problem. Here's why:\r\n\r\n[CHART: HOW BROKEN COPYRIGHT SCREWS EVERYONE]\r\n\r\n* Authors freak out. Authors have been schooled by their peers\r\nthat strong copyright is the only thing that keeps them from\r\ngetting savagely rogered in the marketplace. This is pretty much\r\ntrue: it's strong copyright that often defends authors from their\r\npublishers' worst excesses. However, it doesn't follow that\r\nstrong copyright protects you from your *readers*.\r\n\r\n* Readers get indignant over being called crooks. Seriously.\r\nYou're a small businessperson. Readers are your customers.\r\nCalling them crooks is bad for business.\r\n\r\n* Publishers freak out. Publishers freak out, because they're in\r\nthe business of grabbing as much copyright as they can and\r\nhanging onto it for dear life because, dammit, you never know.\r\nThis is why science fiction magazines try to trick writers into\r\nsigning over improbable rights for things like theme park rides\r\nand action figures based on their work -- it's also why literary\r\nagents are now asking for copyright-long commissions on the books\r\nthey represent: copyright covers so much ground and takes to long\r\nto shake off, who wouldn't want a piece of it?\r\n\r\n* Liability goes through the roof. Copyright infringement,\r\nespecially on the Net, is a supercrime. It carries penalties of\r\n$150,000 per infringement, and aggrieved rights-holders and their\r\nrepresentatives have all kinds of special powers, like the\r\nability to force an ISP to turn over your personal information\r\nbefore showing evidence of your alleged infringement to a judge.\r\nThis means that anyone who suspects that he might be on the wrong\r\nside of copyright law is going to be terribly risk-averse:\r\npublishers non-negotiably force their authors to indemnify them\r\nfrom infringement claims and go one better, forcing writers to\r\nprove that they have \"cleared\" any material they quote, even in\r\nthe case of brief fair-use quotations, like song-titles at the\r\nopening of chapters. The result is that authors end up assuming\r\npotentially life-destroying liability, are chilled from quoting\r\nmaterial around them, and are scared off of public domain texts\r\nbecause an honest mistake about the public-domain status of a\r\nwork carries such a terrible price.\r\n\r\n* Posterity vanishes. In the Eldred v. Ashcroft Supreme Court\r\nhearing last year, the court found that 98 percent of the works\r\nin copyright are no longer earning money for anyone, but that\r\nfiguring out who these old works belong to with the degree of\r\ncertainty that you'd want when one mistake means total economic\r\napocalypse would cost more than you could ever possibly earn on\r\nthem. That means that 98 percent of works will largely expire\r\nlong before the copyright on them does. Today, the names of\r\nscience fiction's ancestral founders -- Mary Shelley, Arthur\r\nConan Doyle, Edgar Allan Poe, Jules Verne, HG Wells -- are still\r\nknown, their work still a part of the discourse. Their spiritual\r\ndescendants from Hugo Gernsback onward may not be so lucky -- if\r\ntheir work continues to be \"protected\" by copyright, it might\r\njust vanish from the face of the earth before it reverts to the\r\npublic domain.\r\n\r\nThis isn't to say that copyright is bad, but that there's such a\r\nthing as good copyright and bad copyright, and that sometimes,\r\ntoo much good copyright is a bad thing. It's like chilis in soup:\r\na little goes a long way, and too much spoils the broth.\r\n\r\nFrom the Luther Bible to the first phonorecords, from radio to\r\nthe pulps, from cable to MP3, the world has shown that its first\r\npreference for new media is its \"democratic-ness\" -- the ease\r\nwith which it can reproduced.\r\n\r\n(And please, before we get any farther, forget all that business\r\nabout how the Internet's copying model is more disruptive than\r\nthe technologies that proceeded it. For Christ's sake, the\r\nVaudeville performers who sued Marconi for inventing the radio\r\nhad to go from a regime where they had *one hundred percent*\r\ncontrol over who could get into the theater and hear them perform\r\nto a regime where they had *zero* percent control over who could\r\nbuild or acquire a radio and tune into a recording of them\r\nperforming. For that matter, look at the difference between a\r\nmonkish Bible and a  Luther Bible -- next to that phase-change,\r\nNapster is peanuts)\r\n\r\nBack to democratic-ness. Every successful new medium has traded\r\noff its artifact-ness -- the degree to which it was populated by\r\nbespoke hunks of atoms, cleverly nailed together by master\r\ncraftspeople -- for ease of reproduction. Piano rolls weren't as\r\nexpressive as good piano players, but they scaled better -- as\r\ndid radio broadcasts, pulp magazines, and MP3s. Liner notes, hand\r\nillumination and leather bindings are nice, but they pale in\r\ncomparison to the ability of an individual to actually get a\r\ncopy of her own.\r\n\r\nWhich isn't to say that old media die. Artists still\r\nhand-illuminate books; master pianists still stride the boards at\r\nCarnegie Hall, and the shelves burst with tell-all biographies of\r\nmusicians that are richer in detail than any liner-notes booklet.\r\nThe thing is, when all you've got is monks, every book takes on\r\nthe character of a monkish Bible. Once you invent the printing\r\npress, all the books that are better-suited to movable type\r\nmigrate into that new form. What's left behind are those items\r\nthat are best suited to the old production scheme: the plays that\r\n*need* to be plays, the books that are especially lovely on\r\ncreamy paper stitched between covers, the music that is most\r\nenjoyable performed live and experienced in a throng of humanity.\r\n\r\nIncreased democratic-ness translates into decreased control: it's\r\na lot harder to control who can copy a book once there's a\r\nphotocopier on every corner than it is when you need a monastery\r\nand several years to copy a Bible. And that decreased control\r\ndemands a new copyright regime that rebalances the rights of\r\ncreators with their audiences.\r\n\r\nFor example, when the VCR was invented, the courts affirmed a new\r\ncopyright exemption for time-shifting; when the radio was\r\ninvented, the Congress granted an anti-trust exemption to the\r\nrecord labels in order to secure a blanket license; when cable TV\r\nwas invented, the government just ordered the broadcasters to\r\nsell the cable-operators access to programming at a fixed rate.\r\n\r\nCopyright is perennially out of date, because its latest rev was\r\ngenerated in response to the last generation of technology. The\r\ntemptation to treat copyright as though it came down off the\r\nmountain on two stone tablets (or worse, as \"just like\" real\r\nproperty) is deeply flawed, since, by definition, current\r\ncopyright only considers the last generation of tech.\r\n\r\nSo, are bookwarez in violation of copyright law? Duh. Is this the\r\nend of the world? *Duh*. If the Catholic church can survive the\r\nprinting press, science fiction will certainly weather the advent\r\nof bookwarez.\r\n\r\n#\r\n\r\nLagniappe [Lagniappe]\r\n\r\nWe're almost done here, but there's one more thing I'd like to do\r\nbefore I get off the stage. [Lagniappe: an unexpected bonus or\r\nextra] Think of it as a \"lagniappe\" -- a little something extra\r\nto thank you for your patience.\r\n\r\nAbout a year ago, I released my first novel, Down and Out in the\r\nMagic Kingdom, on the net, under the terms of the most\r\nrestrictive Creative Commons license available. All it allowed my\r\nreaders to do was send around copies of the book. I was\r\ncautiously dipping my toe into the water, though at the time, it\r\nfelt like I was taking a plunge.\r\n\r\nNow I'm going to take a plunge. Today, I will re-license the text\r\nof Down and Out in the Magic Kingdom under a Creative Commons\r\n\"Attribution-ShareAlike-Derivs-Noncommercial\" license [HUMAN\r\nREADABLE LICENSE], which means that as of today, you have my\r\nblessing to create derivative works from my first book. You can\r\nmake movies, audiobooks, translations, fan-fiction, slash fiction\r\n(God help us) [GEEK HIERARCHY], furry slash fiction [GEEK\r\nHIERARCHY DETAIL], poetry, translations, t-shirts, you name it,\r\nwith two provisos: that one, you have to allow everyone else to\r\nrip, mix and burn your creations in the same way you're hacking\r\nmine; and on the other hand, you've got to do it noncommercially.\r\n\r\nThe sky didn't fall when I dipped my toe in. Let's see what\r\nhappens when I get in up to my knees.\r\n\r\nThe text with the new license will be online before the end of\r\nthe day. Check craphound.com/down for details.\r\n\r\nOh, and I'm also releasing the text of this speech under a\r\nCreative Commons Public Domain dedication, [Public domain\r\ndedication] giving it away to the world to do with as it see\r\nfits. It'll be linked off my blog, Boing Boing, before the day is\r\nthrough.\r\n\r\n#\r\n\r\nEOF\r\n\r\nThat's the end of this talk, for now. Thank you all for your kind\r\nattention. I hope that you'll keep on the lookout for more\r\ndetailed topology of the shape of ebooks and help me spot them\r\nhere in plain sight.\r\n\r\n\r\nCory Doctorow\r\n\r\nMidflight over Texas\r\n\r\nFebruary 4, 2004\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK EBOOKS: NEITHER E, NOR BOOKS***\r\n\r\n\r\n******* This file should be named 11077.txt or 11077.zip *******\r\n\r\n\r\nThis and all associated files of various formats will be found in:\r\nhttp://www.gutenberg.net/1/1/0/7/11077\r\n\r\n\r\nUpdated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions\r\nwill be renamed.\r\n\r\nCreating the works from public domain print editions means that no\r\none owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation\r\n(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without\r\npermission and without paying copyright royalties.  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        "id": 2,
        "title": "Japanese Fairy Tales",
        "author": "Yei Theodora Ozaki",
        "body": "TO\r\n\r\nELEANOR MARION-CRAWFORD.\r\n\r\nI DEDICATE THIS BOOK TO YOU AND TO THE SWEET CHILD-FRIENDSHIP THAT YOU\r\nGAVE ME IN THE DAYS SPENT WITH YOU BY THE SOUTHERN SEA, WHEN YOU USED\r\nTO LISTEN WITH UNFEIGNED PLEASURE TO THESE FAIRY STORIES FROM FAR\r\nJAPAN. MAY THEY NOW REMIND YOU OF MY CHANGELESS LOVE AND REMEMBRANCE.\r\n\r\nY. T. O.\r\n\r\nTokio, 1908.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nPREFACE.\r\n\r\nThis collection of Japanese fairy tales is the outcome of a suggestion\r\nmade to me indirectly through a friend by Mr. Andrew Lang. They have\r\nbeen translated from the modern version written by Sadanami Sanjin.\r\nThese stories are not literal translations, and though the Japanese\r\nstory and all quaint Japanese expressions have been faithfully\r\npreserved, they have been told more with the view to interest young\r\nreaders of the West than the technical student of folk-lore.\r\n\r\nGrateful acknowledgment is due to Mr. Y. Yasuoka, Miss Fusa Okamoto, my\r\nbrother Nobumori Ozaki, Dr. Yoshihiro Takaki, and Miss Kameko Yamao,\r\nwho have helped me with translations.\r\n\r\nThe story which I have named \"The Story of the Man who did not Wish to\r\nDie\" is taken from a little book written a hundred years ago by one\r\nShinsui Tamenaga. It is named Chosei Furo, or \"Longevity.\" \"The\r\nBamboo-cutter and the Moon-child\" is taken from the classic \"Taketari\r\nMonogatari,\" and is NOT classed by the Japanese among their fairy\r\ntales, though it really belongs to this class of literature.\r\n\r\nThe pictures were drawn by Mr. Kakuzo Fujiyama, a Tokio artist.\r\n\r\nIn telling these stories in English I have followed my fancy in adding\r\nsuch touches of local color or description as they seemed to need or as\r\npleased me, and in one or two instances I have gathered in an incident\r\nfrom another version. At all times, among my friends, both young and\r\nold, English or American, I have always found eager listeners to the\r\nbeautiful legends and fairy tales of Japan, and in telling them I have\r\nalso found that they were still unknown to the vast majority, and this\r\nhas encouraged me to write them for the children of the West.\r\n\r\nY. T. O.\r\n\r\nTokio, 1908.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCONTENTS.\r\n\r\n\r\nMY LORD BAG OF RICE\r\n\r\nTHE TONGUE-CUT SPARROW\r\n\r\nTHE STORY OF URASHIMA TARO, THE FISHER LAD\r\n\r\nTHE FARMER AND THE BADGER\r\n\r\nTHE \"shinansha,\" OR THE SOUTH POINTING CARRIAGE\r\n\r\nTHE ADVENTURES OF KINTARO, THE GOLDEN BOY\r\n\r\nTHE STORY OF PRINCESS HASE\r\n\r\nTHE STORY OF THE MAN WHO DID NOT WISH TO DIE\r\n\r\nTHE BAMBOO-CUTTER AND THE MOON-CHILD\r\n\r\nTHE MIRROR OF MATSUYAMA\r\n\r\nTHE GOBLIN OF ADACHIGAHARA\r\n\r\nTHE SAGACIOUS MONKEY AND THE BOAR\r\n\r\nTHE HAPPY HUNTER AND THE SKILLFUL FISHER\r\n\r\nTHE STORY OF THE OLD MAN WHO MADE WITHERED TREES TO FLOWER\r\n\r\nTHE JELLY FISH AND THE MONKEY\r\n\r\nTHE QUARREL OF THE MONKEY AND THE CRAB\r\n\r\nTHE WHITE HARE AND THE CROCODILES\r\n\r\nTHE STORY OF PRINCE YAMATO TAKE\r\n\r\nMOMOTARO, OR THE STORY OF THE SON OF A PEACH\r\n\r\nTHE OGRE OF RASHOMON\r\n\r\nHOW AN OLD MAN LOST HIS WEN\r\n\r\nTHE STONES OF FIVE COLORS AND THE EMPRESS JOKWA\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nJAPANESE FAIRY TALES.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nMY LORD BAG OF RICE.\r\n\r\n\r\nLong, long ago there lived, in Japan a brave warrior known to all as\r\nTawara Toda, or \"My Lord Bag of Rice.\" His true name was Fujiwara\r\nHidesato, and there is a very interesting story of how he came to\r\nchange his name.\r\n\r\nOne day he sallied forth in search of adventures, for he had the nature\r\nof a warrior and could not bear to be idle. So he buckled on his two\r\nswords, took his huge bow, much taller than himself, in his hand, and\r\nslinging his quiver on his back started out. He had not gone far when\r\nhe came to the bridge of Seta-no-Karashi spanning one end of the\r\nbeautiful Lake Biwa. No sooner had he set foot on the bridge than he\r\nsaw lying right across his path a huge serpent-dragon. Its body was so\r\nbig that it looked like the trunk of a large pine tree and it took up\r\nthe whole width of the bridge. One of its huge claws rested on the\r\nparapet of one side of the bridge, while its tail lay right against the\r\nother. The monster seemed to be asleep, and as it breathed, fire and\r\nsmoke came out of its nostrils.\r\n\r\nAt first Hidesato could not help feeling alarmed at the sight of this\r\nhorrible reptile lying in his path, for he must either turn back or\r\nwalk right over its body. He was a brave man, however, and putting\r\naside all fear went forward dauntlessly. Crunch, crunch! he stepped now\r\non the dragon's body, now between its coils, and without even one\r\nglance backward he went on his way.\r\n\r\nHe had only gone a few steps when he heard some one calling him from\r\nbehind. On turning back he was much surprised to see that the monster\r\ndragon had entirely disappeared and in its place was a strange-looking\r\nman, who was bowing most ceremoniously to the ground. His red hair\r\nstreamed over his shoulders and was surmounted by a crown in the shape\r\nof a dragon's head, and his sea-green dress was patterned with shells.\r\nHidesato knew at once that this was no ordinary mortal and he wondered\r\nmuch at the strange occurrence. Where had the dragon gone in such a\r\nshort space of time? Or had it transformed itself into this man, and\r\nwhat did the whole thing mean? While these thoughts passed through his\r\nmind he had come up to the man on the bridge and now addressed him:\r\n\r\n\"Was it you that called me just now?\"\r\n\r\n\"Yes, it was I,\" answered the man: \"I have an earnest request to make\r\nto you. Do you think you can grant it to me?\"\r\n\r\n\"If it is in my power to do so I will,\" answered Hidesato, \"but first\r\ntell me who you are?\"\r\n\r\n\"I am the Dragon King of the Lake, and my home is in these waters just\r\nunder this bridge.\"\r\n\r\n\"And what is it you have to ask of me?\" said Hidesato.\r\n\r\n\"I want you to kill my mortal enemy the centipede, who lives on the\r\nmountain beyond,\" and the Dragon King pointed to a high peak on the\r\nopposite shore of the lake.\r\n\r\n\"I have lived now for many years in this lake and I have a large family\r\nof children and grand-children. For some time past we have lived in\r\nterror, for a monster centipede has discovered our home, and night\r\nafter night it comes and carries off one of my family. I am powerless\r\nto save them. If it goes on much longer like this, not only shall I\r\nlose all my children, but I myself must fall a victim to the monster. I\r\nam, therefore, very unhappy, and in my extremity I determined to ask\r\nthe help of a human being. For many days with this intention I have\r\nwaited on the bridge in the shape of the horrible serpent-dragon that\r\nyou saw, in the hope that some strong brave man would come along. But\r\nall who came this way, as soon as they saw me were terrified and ran\r\naway as fast as they could. You are the first man I have found able to\r\nlook at me without fear, so I knew at once that you were a man of great\r\ncourage. I beg you to have pity upon me. Will you not help me and kill\r\nmy enemy the centipede?\"\r\n\r\nHidesato felt very sorry for the Dragon King on hearing his story, and\r\nreadily promised to do what he could to help him. The warrior asked\r\nwhere the centipede lived, so that he might attack the creature at\r\nonce. The Dragon King replied that its home was on the mountain Mikami,\r\nbut that as it came every night at a certain hour to the palace of the\r\nlake, it would be better to wait till then. So Hidesato was conducted\r\nto the palace of the Dragon King, under the bridge. Strange to say, as\r\nhe followed his host downwards the waters parted to let them pass, and\r\nhis clothes did not even feel damp as he passed through the flood.\r\nNever had Hidesato seen anything so beautiful as this palace built of\r\nwhite marble beneath the lake. He had often heard of the Sea King's\r\npalace at the bottom of the sea, where all the servants and retainers\r\nwere salt-water fishes, but here was a magnificent building in the\r\nheart of Lake Biwa. The dainty goldfishes, red carp, and silvery trout,\r\nwaited upon the Dragon King and his guest.\r\n\r\nHidesato was astonished at the feast that was spread for him. The\r\ndishes were crystallized lotus leaves and flowers, and the chopsticks\r\nwere of the rarest ebony. As soon as they sat down, the sliding doors\r\nopened and ten lovely goldfish dancers came out, and behind them\r\nfollowed ten red-carp musicians with the koto and the samisen. Thus the\r\nhours flew by till midnight, and the beautiful music and dancing had\r\nbanished all thoughts of the centipede. The Dragon King was about to\r\npledge the warrior in a fresh cup of wine when the palace was suddenly\r\nshaken by a tramp, tramp! as if a mighty army had begun to march not\r\nfar away.\r\n\r\nHidesato and his host both rose to their feet and rushed to the\r\nbalcony, and the warrior saw on the opposite mountain two great balls\r\nof glowing fire coming nearer and nearer. The Dragon King stood by the\r\nwarrior's side trembling with fear.\r\n\r\n\"The centipede! The centipede! Those two balls of fire are its eyes. It\r\nis coming for its prey! Now is the time to kill it.\"\r\n\r\nHidesato looked where his host pointed, and, in the dim light of the\r\nstarlit evening, behind the two balls of fire he saw the long body of\r\nan enormous centipede winding round the mountains, and the light in its\r\nhundred feet glowed like so many distant lanterns moving slowly towards\r\nthe shore.\r\n\r\nHidesato showed not the least sign of fear. He tried to calm the Dragon\r\nKing.\r\n\r\n\"Don't be afraid. I shall surely kill the centipede. Just bring me my\r\nbow and arrows.\"\r\n\r\nThe Dragon King did as he was bid, and the warrior noticed that he had\r\nonly three arrows left in his quiver. He took the bow, and fitting an\r\narrow to the notch, took careful aim and let fly.\r\n\r\nThe arrow hit the centipede right in the middle of its head, but\r\ninstead of penetrating, it glanced off harmless and fell to the ground.\r\n\r\nNothing daunted, Hidesato took another arrow, fitted it to the notch of\r\nthe bow and let fly. Again the arrow hit the mark, it struck the\r\ncentipede right in the middle of its head, only to glance off and fall\r\nto the ground. The centipede was invulnerable to weapons! When the\r\nDragon King saw that even this brave warrior's arrows were powerless to\r\nkill the centipede, he lost heart and began to tremble with fear.\r\n\r\nThe warrior saw that he had now only one arrow left in his quiver, and\r\nif this one failed he could not kill the centipede. He looked across\r\nthe waters. The huge reptile had wound its horrid body seven times\r\nround the mountain and would soon come down to the lake. Nearer and\r\nnearer gleamed fireballs of eyes, and the light of its hundred feet\r\nbegan to throw reflections in the still waters of the lake.\r\n\r\nThen suddenly the warrior remembered that he had heard that human\r\nsaliva was deadly to centipedes. But this was no ordinary centipede.\r\nThis was so monstrous that even to think of such a creature made one\r\ncreep with horror. Hidesato determined to try his last chance. So\r\ntaking his last arrow and first putting the end of it in his mouth, he\r\nfitted the notch to his bow, took careful aim once more and let fly.\r\n\r\nThis time the arrow again hit the centipede right in the middle of its\r\nhead, but instead of glancing off harmlessly as before, it struck home\r\nto the creature's brain. Then with a convulsive shudder the serpentine\r\nbody stopped moving, and the fiery light of its great eyes and hundred\r\nfeet darkened to a dull glare like the sunset of a stormy day, and then\r\nwent out in blackness. A great darkness now overspread the heavens, the\r\nthunder rolled and the lightning flashed, and the wind roared in fury,\r\nand it seemed as if the world were coming to an end. The Dragon King\r\nand his children and retainers all crouched in different parts of the\r\npalace, frightened to death, for the building was shaken to its\r\nfoundation. At last the dreadful night was over. Day dawned beautiful\r\nand clear. The centipede was gone from the mountain.\r\n\r\nThen Hidesato called to the Dragon King to come out with him on the\r\nbalcony, for the centipede was dead and he had nothing more to fear.\r\n\r\nThen all the inhabitants of the palace came out with joy, and Hidesato\r\npointed to the lake. There lay the body of the dead centipede floating\r\non the water, which was dyed red with its blood.\r\n\r\nThe gratitude of the Dragon King knew no bounds. The whole family came\r\nand bowed down before the warrior, calling him their preserver and the\r\nbravest warrior in all Japan.\r\n\r\nAnother feast was prepared, more sumptuous than the first. All kinds of\r\nfish, prepared in every imaginable way, raw, stewed, boiled and\r\nroasted, served on coral trays and crystal dishes, were put before him,\r\nand the wine was the best that Hidesato had ever tasted in his life. To\r\nadd to the beauty of everything the sun shone brightly, the lake\r\nglittered like a liquid diamond, and the palace was a thousand times\r\nmore beautiful by day than by night.\r\n\r\nHis host tried to persuade the warrior to stay a few days, but Hidesato\r\ninsisted on going home, saying that he had now finished what he had\r\ncome to do, and must return. The Dragon King and his family were all\r\nvery sorry to have him leave so soon, but since he would go they begged\r\nhim to accept a few small presents (so they said) in token of their\r\ngratitude to him for delivering them forever from their horrible enemy\r\nthe centipede.\r\n\r\nAs the warrior stood in the porch taking leave, a train of fish was\r\nsuddenly transformed into a retinue of men, all wearing ceremonial\r\nrobes and dragon's crowns on their heads to show that they were\r\nservants of the great Dragon King. The presents that they carried were\r\nas follows:\r\n\r\n   First, a large bronze bell.\r\n   Second, a bag of rice.\r\n   Third, a roll of silk.\r\n   Fourth, a cooking pot.\r\n   Fifth, a bell.\r\n\r\nHidesato did not want to accept all these presents, but as the Dragon\r\nKing insisted, he could not well refuse.\r\n\r\nThe Dragon King himself accompanied the warrior as far as the bridge,\r\nand then took leave of him with many bows and good wishes, leaving the\r\nprocession of servants to accompany Hidesato to his house with the\r\npresents.\r\n\r\nThe warrior's household and servants had been very much concerned when\r\nthey found that he did not return the night before, but they finally\r\nconcluded that he had been kept by the violent storm and had taken\r\nshelter somewhere. When the servants on the watch for his return caught\r\nsight of him they called to every one that he was approaching, and the\r\nwhole household turned out to meet him, wondering much what the retinue\r\nof men, bearing presents and banners, that followed him, could mean.\r\n\r\nAs soon as the Dragon King's retainers had put down the presents they\r\nvanished, and Hidesato told all that had happened to him.\r\n\r\nThe presents which he had received from the grateful Dragon King were\r\nfound to be of magic power. The bell only was ordinary, and as Hidesato\r\nhad no use for it he presented it to the temple near by, where it was\r\nhung up, to boom out the hour of day over the surrounding neighborhood.\r\n\r\nThe single bag of rice, however much was taken from it day after day\r\nfor the meals of the knight and his whole family, never grew less--the\r\nsupply in the bag was inexhaustible.\r\n\r\nThe roll of silk, too, never grew shorter, though time after time long\r\npieces were cut off to make the warrior a new suit of clothes to go to\r\nCourt in at the New Year.\r\n\r\nThe cooking pot was wonderful, too. No matter what was put into it, it\r\ncooked deliciously whatever was wanted without any firing--truly a very\r\neconomical saucepan.\r\n\r\nThe fame of Hidesato's fortune spread far and wide, and as there was no\r\nneed for him to spend money on rice or silk or firing, he became very\r\nrich and prosperous, and was henceforth known as My Lord Bag of Rice.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE TONGUE-CUT SPARROW.\r\n\r\n\r\nLong, long ago in Japan there lived an old man and his wife. The old\r\nman was a good, kind-hearted, hard-working old fellow, but his wife was\r\na regular cross-patch, who spoiled the happiness of her home by her\r\nscolding tongue. She was always grumbling about something from morning\r\nto night. The old man had for a long time ceased to take any notice of\r\nher crossness. He was out most of the day at work in the fields, and as\r\nhe had no child, for his amusement when he came home, he kept a tame\r\nsparrow. He loved the little bird just as much as if she had been his\r\nchild.\r\n\r\nWhen he came back at night after his hard day's work in the open air it\r\nwas his only pleasure to pet the sparrow, to talk to her and to teach\r\nher little tricks, which she learned very quickly. The old man would\r\nopen her cage and let her fly about the room, and they would play\r\ntogether. Then when supper-time came, he always saved some tit-bits\r\nfrom his meal with which to feed his little bird.\r\n\r\nNow one day the old man went out to chop wood in the forest, and the\r\nold woman stopped at home to wash clothes. The day before, she had made\r\nsome starch, and now when she came to look for it, it was all gone; the\r\nbowl which she had filled full yesterday was quite empty.\r\n\r\nWhile she was wondering who could have used or stolen the starch, down\r\nflew the pet sparrow, and bowing her little feathered head--a trick\r\nwhich she had been taught by her master--the pretty bird chirped and\r\nsaid:\r\n\r\n\"It is I who have taken the starch. I thought it was some food put out\r\nfor me in that basin, and I ate it all. If I have made a mistake I beg\r\nyou to forgive me! tweet, tweet, tweet!\"\r\n\r\nYou see from this that the sparrow was a truthful bird, and the old\r\nwoman ought to have been willing to forgive her at once when she asked\r\nher pardon so nicely. But not so.\r\n\r\nThe old woman had never loved the sparrow, and had often quarreled with\r\nher husband for keeping what she called a dirty bird about the house,\r\nsaying that it only made extra work for her. Now she was only too\r\ndelighted to have some cause of complaint against the pet. She scolded\r\nand even cursed the poor little bird for her bad behavior, and not\r\ncontent with using these harsh, unfeeling words, in a fit of rage she\r\nseized the sparrow--who all this time had spread out her wings and\r\nbowed her head before the old woman, to show how sorry she was--and\r\nfetched the scissors and cut off the poor little bird's tongue.\r\n\r\n\"I suppose you took my starch with that tongue! Now you may see what it\r\nis like to go without it!\" And with these dreadful words she drove the\r\nbird away, not caring in the least what might happen to it and without\r\nthe smallest pity for its suffering, so unkind was she!\r\n\r\nThe old woman, after she had driven the sparrow away, made some more\r\nrice-paste, grumbling all the time at the trouble, and after starching\r\nall her clothes, spread the things on boards to dry in the sun, instead\r\nof ironing them as they do in England.\r\n\r\nIn the evening the old man came home. As usual, on the way back he\r\nlooked forward to the time when he should reach his gate and see his\r\npet come flying and chirping to meet him, ruffling out her feathers to\r\nshow her joy, and at last coming to rest on his shoulder. But to-night\r\nthe old man was very disappointed, for not even the shadow of his dear\r\nsparrow was to be seen.\r\n\r\nHe quickened his steps, hastily drew off his straw sandals, and stepped\r\non to the veranda. Still no sparrow was to be seen. He now felt sure\r\nthat his wife, in one of her cross tempers, had shut the sparrow up in\r\nits cage. So he called her and said anxiously:\r\n\r\n\"Where is Suzume San (Miss Sparrow) today?\"\r\n\r\nThe old woman pretended not to know at first, and answered:\r\n\r\n\"Your sparrow? I am sure I don't know. Now I come to think of it, I\r\nhaven't seen her all the afternoon. I shouldn't wonder if the\r\nungrateful bird had flown away and left you after all your petting!\"\r\n\r\nBut at last, when the old man gave her no peace, but asked her again\r\nand again, insisting that she must know what had happened to his pet,\r\nshe confessed all. She told him crossly how the sparrow had eaten the\r\nrice-paste she had specially made for starching her clothes, and how\r\nwhen the sparrow had confessed to what she had done, in great anger she\r\nhad taken her scissors and cut out her tongue, and how finally she had\r\ndriven the bird away and forbidden her to return to the house again.\r\n\r\nThen the old woman showed her husband the sparrow's tongue, saying:\r\n\r\n\"Here is the tongue I cut off! Horrid little bird, why did it eat all\r\nmy starch?\"\r\n\r\n\"How could you be so cruel? Oh! how could you so cruel?\" was all that\r\nthe old man could answer. He was too kind-hearted to punish his be\r\nshrew of a wife, but he was terribly distressed at what had happened to\r\nhis poor little sparrow.\r\n\r\n\"What a dreadful misfortune for my poor Suzume San to lose her tongue!\"\r\nhe said to himself. \"She won't be able to chirp any more, and surely\r\nthe pain of the cutting of it out in that rough way must have made her\r\nill! Is there nothing to be done?\"\r\n\r\nThe old man shed many tears after his cross wife had gone to sleep.\r\nWhile he wiped away the tears with the sleeve of his cotton robe, a\r\nbright thought comforted him: he would go and look for the sparrow on\r\nthe morrow. Having decided this he was able to go to sleep at last.\r\n\r\nThe next morning he rose early, as soon as ever the day broke, and\r\nsnatching a hasty breakfast, started out over the hills and through the\r\nwoods, stopping at every clump of bamboos to cry:\r\n\r\n\"Where, oh where does my tongue-cut sparrow stay? Where, oh where, does\r\nmy tongue-cut sparrow stay!\"\r\n\r\nHe never stopped to rest for his noonday meal, and it was far on in the\r\nafternoon when he found himself near a large bamboo wood. Bamboo groves\r\nare the favorite haunts of sparrows, and there sure enough at the edge\r\nof the wood he saw his own dear sparrow waiting to welcome him. He\r\ncould hardly believe his eyes for joy, and ran forward quickly to greet\r\nher. She bowed her little head and went through a number of the tricks\r\nher master had taught her, to show her pleasure at seeing her old\r\nfriend again, and, wonderful to relate, she could talk as of old. The\r\nold man told her how sorry he was for all that had happened, and\r\ninquired after her tongue, wondering how she could speak so well\r\nwithout it. Then the sparrow opened her beak and showed him that a new\r\ntongue had grown in place of the old one, and begged him not to think\r\nany more about the past, for she was quite well now. Then the old man\r\nknew that his sparrow was a fairy, and no common bird. It would be\r\ndifficult to exaggerate the old man's rejoicing now. He forgot all his\r\ntroubles, he forgot even how tired he was, for he had found his lost\r\nsparrow, and instead of being ill and without a tongue as he had feared\r\nand expected to find her, she was well and happy and with a new tongue,\r\nand without a sign of the ill-treatment she had received from his wife.\r\nAnd above all she was a fairy.\r\n\r\nThe sparrow asked him to follow her, and flying before him she led him\r\nto a beautiful house in the heart of the bamboo grove. The old man was\r\nutterly astonished when he entered the house to find what a beautiful\r\nplace it was. It was built of the whitest wood, the soft cream-colored\r\nmats which took the place of carpets were the finest he had ever seen,\r\nand the cushions that the sparrow brought out for him to sit on were\r\nmade of the finest silk and crape. Beautiful vases and lacquer boxes\r\nadorned the tokonoma[1] of every room.\r\n\r\n\r\n[1] An alcove where precious objects are displayed.\r\n\r\n\r\nThe sparrow led the old man to the place of honor, and then, taking her\r\nplace at a humble distance, she thanked him with many polite bows for\r\nall the kindness he had shown her for many long years.\r\n\r\nThen the Lady Sparrow, as we will now call her, introduced all her\r\nfamily to the old man. This done, her daughters, robed in dainty crape\r\ngowns, brought in on beautiful old-fashioned trays a feast of all kinds\r\nof delicious foods, till the old man began to think he must be\r\ndreaming. In the middle of the dinner some of the sparrow's daughters\r\nperformed a wonderful dance, called the \"suzume-odori\" or the\r\n\"Sparrow's dance,\" to amuse the guest.\r\n\r\nNever had the old man enjoyed himself so much. The hours flew by too\r\nquickly in this lovely spot, with all these fairy sparrows to wait upon\r\nhim and to feast him and to dance before him.\r\n\r\nBut the night came on and the darkness reminded him that he had a long\r\nway to go and must think about taking his leave and return home. He\r\nthanked his kind hostess for her splendid entertainment, and begged her\r\nfor his sake to forget all she had suffered at the hands of his cross\r\nold wife. He told the Lady Sparrow that it was a great comfort and\r\nhappiness to him to find her in such a beautiful home and to know that\r\nshe wanted for nothing. It was his anxiety to know how she fared and\r\nwhat had really happened to her that had led him to seek her. Now he\r\nknew that all was well he could return home with a light heart. If ever\r\nshe wanted him for anything she had only to send for him and he would\r\ncome at once.\r\n\r\nThe Lady Sparrow begged him to stay and rest several days and enjoy the\r\nchange, but the old man said he must return to his old wife--who would\r\nprobably be cross at his not coming home at the usual time--and to his\r\nwork, and there-fore, much as he wished to do so, he could not accept\r\nher kind invitation. But now that he knew where the Lady Sparrow lived\r\nhe would come to see her whenever he had the time.\r\n\r\nWhen the Lady Sparrow saw that she could not persuade the old man to\r\nstay longer, she gave an order to some of her servants, and they at\r\nonce brought in two boxes, one large and the other small. These were\r\nplaced before the old man, and the Lady Sparrow asked him to choose\r\nwhichever he liked for a present, which she wished to give him.\r\n\r\nThe old man could not refuse this kind proposal, and he chose the\r\nsmaller box, saying:\r\n\r\n\"I am now too old and feeble to carry the big and heavy box. As you are\r\nso kind as to say that I may take whichever I like, I will choose the\r\nsmall one, which will be easier for me to carry.\"\r\n\r\nThen the sparrows all helped him put it on his back and went to the\r\ngate to see him off, bidding him good-by with many bows and entreating\r\nhim to come again whenever he had the time. Thus the old man and his\r\npet sparrow separated quite happily, the sparrow showing not the least\r\nill-will for all the unkindness she had suffered at the hands of the\r\nold wife. Indeed, she only felt sorrow for the old man who had to put\r\nup with it all his life.\r\n\r\nWhen the old man reached home he found his wife even crosser than\r\nusual, for it was late on in the night and she had been waiting up for\r\nhim for a long time.\r\n\r\n\"Where have you been all this time?\" she asked in a big voice. \"Why do\r\nyou come back so late?\"\r\n\r\nThe old man tried to pacify her by showing her the box of presents he\r\nhad brought back with him, and then he told her of all that had\r\nhappened to him, and how wonderfully he had been entertained at the\r\nsparrow's house.\r\n\r\n\"Now let us see what is in the box,\" said the old man, not giving her\r\ntime to grumble again. \"You must help me open it.\" And they both sat\r\ndown before the box and opened it.\r\n\r\nTo their utter astonishment they found the box filled to the brim with\r\ngold and silver coins and many other precious things. The mats of their\r\nlittle cottage fairly glittered as they took out the things one by one\r\nand put them down and handled them over and over again. The old man was\r\noverjoyed at the sight of the riches that were now his. Beyond his\r\nbrightest expectations was the sparrow's gift, which would enable him\r\nto give up work and live in ease and comfort the rest of his days.\r\n\r\nHe said: \"Thanks to my good little sparrow! Thanks to my good little\r\nsparrow!\" many times.\r\n\r\nBut the old woman, after the first moments of surprise and satisfaction\r\nat the sight of the gold and silver were over, could not suppress the\r\ngreed of her wicked nature. She now began to reproach the old man for\r\nnot having brought home the big box of presents, for in the innocence\r\nof his heart he had told her how he had refused the large box of\r\npresents which the sparrows had offered him, preferring the smaller one\r\nbecause it was light and easy to carry home.\r\n\r\n\"You silly old man,\" said she, \"Why did you not bring the large box?\r\nJust think what we have lost. We might have had twice as much silver\r\nand gold as this. You are certainly an old fool!\" she screamed, and\r\nthen went to bed as angry as she could be.\r\n\r\nThe old man now wished that he had said nothing about the big box, but\r\nit was too late; the greedy old woman, not contented with the good luck\r\nwhich had so unexpectedly befallen them and which she so little\r\ndeserved, made up her mind, if possible, to get more.\r\n\r\nEarly the next morning she got up and made the old man describe the way\r\nto the sparrow's house. When he saw what was in her mind he tried to\r\nkeep her from going, but it was useless. She would not listen to one\r\nword he said. It is strange that the old woman did not feel ashamed of\r\ngoing to see the sparrow after the cruel way she had treated her in\r\ncutting off her tongue in a fit of rage. But her greed to get the big\r\nbox made her forget everything else. It did not even enter her thoughts\r\nthat the sparrows might be angry with her--as, indeed, they were--and\r\nmight punish her for what she had done.\r\n\r\nEver since the Lady Sparrow had returned home in the sad plight in\r\nwhich they had first found her, weeping and bleeding from the mouth,\r\nher whole family and relations had done little else but speak of the\r\ncruelty of the old woman. \"How could she,\" they asked each other,\r\n\"inflict such a heavy punishment for such a trifling offense as that of\r\neating some rice-paste by mistake?\" They all loved the old man who was\r\nso kind and good and patient under all his troubles, but the old woman\r\nthey hated, and they determined, if ever they had the chance, to punish\r\nher as she deserved. They had not long to wait.\r\n\r\nAfter walking for some hours the old woman had at last found the bamboo\r\ngrove which she had made her husband carefully describe, and now she\r\nstood before it crying out:\r\n\r\n\"Where is the tongue-cut sparrow's house? Where is the tongue-cut\r\nsparrow's house?\"\r\n\r\nAt last she saw the eaves of the house peeping out from amongst the\r\nbamboo foliage. She hastened to the door and knocked loudly.\r\n\r\nWhen the servants told the Lady Sparrow that her old mistress was at\r\nthe door asking to see her, she was somewhat surprised at the\r\nunexpected visit, after all that had taken place, and she wondered not\r\na little at the boldness of the old woman in venturing to come to the\r\nhouse. The Lady Sparrow, however, was a polite bird, and so she went\r\nout to greet the old woman, remembering that she had once been her\r\nmistress.\r\n\r\nThe old woman intended, however, to waste no time in words, she went\r\nright to the point, without the least shame, and said:\r\n\r\n\"You need not trouble to entertain me as you did my old man. I have\r\ncome myself to get the box which he so stupidly left behind. I shall\r\nsoon take my leave if you will give me the big box--that is all I want!\"\r\n\r\nThe Lady Sparrow at once consented, and told her servants to bring out\r\nthe big box. The old woman eagerly seized it and hoisted it on her\r\nback, and without even stopping to thank the Lady Sparrow began to\r\nhurry homewards.\r\n\r\nThe box was so heavy that she could not walk fast, much less run, as\r\nshe would have liked to do, so anxious was she to get home and see what\r\nwas inside the box, but she had often to sit down and rest herself by\r\nthe way.\r\n\r\nWhile she was staggering along under the heavy load, her desire to open\r\nthe box became too great to be resisted. She could wait no longer, for\r\nshe supposed this big box to be full of gold and silver and precious\r\njewels like the small one her husband had received.\r\n\r\nAt last this greedy and selfish old woman put down the box by the\r\nwayside and opened it carefully, expecting to gloat her eyes on a mine\r\nof wealth. What she saw, however, so terrified her that she nearly lost\r\nher senses. As soon as she lifted the lid, a number of horrible and\r\nfrightful looking demons bounced out of the box and surrounded her as\r\nif they intended to kill her. Not even in nightmares had she ever seen\r\nsuch horrible creatures as her much-coveted box contained. A demon with\r\none huge eye right in the middle of its forehead came and glared at\r\nher, monsters with gaping mouths looked as if they would devour her, a\r\nhuge snake coiled and hissed about her, and a big frog hopped and\r\ncroaked towards her.\r\n\r\nThe old woman had never been so frightened in her life, and ran from\r\nthe spot as fast as her quaking legs would carry her, glad to escape\r\nalive. When she reached home she fell to the floor and told her husband\r\nwith tears all that had happened to her, and how she had been nearly\r\nkilled by the demons in the box.\r\n\r\nThen she began to blame the sparrow, but the old man stopped her at\r\nonce, saying:\r\n\r\n\"Don't blame the sparrow, it is your wickedness which has at last met\r\nwith its reward. I only hope this may be a lesson to you in the future!\"\r\n\r\nThe old woman said nothing more, and from that day she repented of her\r\ncross, unkind ways, and by degrees became a good old woman, so that her\r\nhusband hardly knew her to be the same person, and they spent their\r\nlast days together happily, free from want or care, spending carefully\r\nthe treasure the old man had received from his pet, the tongue-cut\r\nsparrow.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE STORY OF URASHIMA TARO, THE FISHER LAD.\r\n\r\n\r\nLong, long ago in the province of Tango there lived on the shore of\r\nJapan in the little fishing village of Mizu-no-ye a young fisherman\r\nnamed Urashima Taro. His father had been a fisherman before him, and\r\nhis skill had more than doubly descended to his son, for Urashima was\r\nthe most skillful fisher in all that country side, and could catch more\r\nBonito and Tai in a day than his comrades could in a week.\r\n\r\nBut in the little fishing village, more than for being a clever fisher\r\nof the sea was he known for his kind heart. In his whole life he had\r\nnever hurt anything, either great or small, and when a boy, his\r\ncompanions had always laughed at him, for he would never join with them\r\nin teasing animals, but always tried to keep them from this cruel sport.\r\n\r\nOne soft summer twilight he was going home at the end of a day's\r\nfishing when he came upon a group of children. They were all screaming\r\nand talking at the tops of their voices, and seemed to be in a state of\r\ngreat excitement about something, and on his going up to them to see\r\nwhat was the matter he saw that they were tormenting a tortoise. First\r\none boy pulled it this way, then another boy pulled it that way, while\r\na third child beat it with a stick, and the fourth hammered its shell\r\nwith a stone.\r\n\r\nNow Urashima felt very sorry for the poor tortoise and made up his mind\r\nto rescue it. He spoke to the boys:\r\n\r\n\"Look here, boys, you are treating that poor tortoise so badly that it\r\nwill soon die!\"\r\n\r\nThe boys, who were all of an age when children seem to delight in being\r\ncruel to animals, took no notice of Urashima's gentle reproof, but went\r\non teasing it as before. One of the older boys answered:\r\n\r\n\"Who cares whether it lives or dies? We do not. Here, boys, go on, go\r\non!\"\r\n\r\nAnd they began to treat the poor tortoise more cruelly than ever.\r\nUrashima waited a moment, turning over in his mind what would be the\r\nbest way to deal with the boys. He would try to persuade them to give\r\nthe tortoise up to him, so he smiled at them and said:\r\n\r\n\"I am sure you are all good, kind boys! Now won't you give me the\r\ntortoise? I should like to have it so much!\"\r\n\r\n\"No, we won't give you the tortoise,\" said one of the boys. \"Why should\r\nwe? We caught it ourselves.\"\r\n\r\n\"What you say is true,\" said Urashima, \"but I do not ask you to give it\r\nto me for nothing. I will give you some money for it--in other words,\r\nthe Ojisan (Uncle) will buy it of you. Won't that do for you, my boys?\"\r\nHe held up the money to them, strung on a piece of string through a\r\nhole in the center of each coin. \"Look, boys, you can buy anything you\r\nlike with this money. You can do much more with this money than you can\r\nwith that poor tortoise. See what good boys you are to listen to me.\"\r\n\r\nThe boys were not bad boys at all, they were only mischievous, and as\r\nUrashima spoke they were won by his kind smile and gentle words and\r\nbegan \"to be of his spirit,\" as they say in Japan. Gradually they all\r\ncame up to him, the ringleader of the little band holding out the\r\ntortoise to him.\r\n\r\n\"Very well, Ojisan, we will give you the tortoise if you will give us\r\nthe money!\" And Urashima took the tortoise and gave the money to the\r\nboys, who, calling to each other, scampered away and were soon out of\r\nsight.\r\n\r\nThen Urashima stroked the tortoise's back, saying as he did so:\r\n\r\n\"Oh, you poor thing! Poor thing!--there, there! you are safe now! They\r\nsay that a stork lives for a thousand years, but the tortoise for ten\r\nthousand years. You have the longest life of any creature in this\r\nworld, and you were in great danger of having that precious life cut\r\nshort by those cruel boys. Luckily I was passing by and saved you, and\r\nso life is still yours. Now I am going to take you back to your home,\r\nthe sea, at once. Do not let yourself be caught again, for there might\r\nbe no one to save you next time!\"\r\n\r\nAll the time that the kind fisherman was speaking he was walking\r\nquickly to the shore and out upon the rocks; then putting the tortoise\r\ninto the water he watched the animal disappear, and turned homewards\r\nhimself, for he was tired and the sun had set.\r\n\r\nThe next morning Urashima went out as usual in his boat. The weather\r\nwas fine and the sea and sky were both blue and soft in the tender haze\r\nof the summer morning. Urashima got into his boat and dreamily pushed\r\nout to sea, throwing his line as he did so. He soon passed the other\r\nfishing boats and left them behind him till they were lost to sight in\r\nthe distance, and his boat drifted further and further out upon the\r\nblue waters. Somehow, he knew not why, he felt unusually happy that\r\nmorning; and he could not help wishing that, like the tortoise he set\r\nfree the day before, he had thousands of years to live instead of his\r\nown short span of human life.\r\n\r\nHe was suddenly startled from his reverie by hearing his own name\r\ncalled:\r\n\r\n\"Urashima, Urashima!\"\r\n\r\nClear as a bell and soft as the summer wind the name floated over the\r\nsea.\r\n\r\nHe stood up and looked in every direction, thinking that one of the\r\nother boats had overtaken him, but gaze as he might over the wide\r\nexpanse of water, near or far there was no sign of a boat, so the voice\r\ncould not have come from any human being.\r\n\r\nStartled, and wondering who or what it was that had called him so\r\nclearly, he looked in all directions round about him and saw that\r\nwithout his knowing it a tortoise had come to the side of the boat.\r\nUrashima saw with surprise that it was the very tortoise he had rescued\r\nthe day before.\r\n\r\n\"Well, Mr. Tortoise,\" said Urashima, \"was it you who called my name\r\njust now?\"\r\n\r\nThe tortoise nodded its head several times and said:\r\n\r\n\"Yes, it was I. Yesterday in your honorable shadow (o kage sama de) my\r\nlife was saved, and I have come to offer you my thanks and to tell you\r\nhow grateful I am for your kindness to me.\"\r\n\r\n\"Indeed,\" said Urashima, \"that is very polite of you. Come up into the\r\nboat. I would offer you a smoke, but as you are a tortoise doubtless\r\nyou do not smoke,\" and the fisherman laughed at the joke.\r\n\r\n\"He-he-he-he!\" laughed the tortoise; \"sake (rice wine) is my favorite\r\nrefreshment, but I do not care for tobacco.\"\r\n\r\n\"Indeed,\" said Urashima, \"I regret very much that I have no \"sake\" in\r\nmy boat to offer you, but come up and dry your back in the\r\nsun--tortoises always love to do that.\"\r\n\r\nSo the tortoise climbed into the boat, the fisherman helping him, and\r\nafter an exchange of complimentary speeches the tortoise said:\r\n\r\n\"Have you ever seen Rin Gin, the Palace of the Dragon King of the Sea,\r\nUrashima?\"\r\n\r\nThe fisherman shook his head and replied; \"No; year after year the sea\r\nhas been my home, but though I have often heard of the Dragon King's\r\nrealm under the sea I have never yet set eyes on that wonderful place.\r\nIt must be very far away, if it exists at all!\"\r\n\r\n\"Is that really so? You have never seen the Sea King's Palace? Then you\r\nhave missed seeing one of the most wonderful sights in the whole\r\nuniverse. It is far away at the bottom of the sea, but if I take you\r\nthere we shall soon reach the place. If you would like to see the Sea\r\nKing's land I will be your guide.\"\r\n\r\n\"I should like to go there, certainly, and you are very kind to think\r\nof taking me, but you must remember that I am only a poor mortal and\r\nhave not the power of swimming like a sea creature such as you are--\"\r\n\r\nBefore the fisherman could say more the tortoise stopped him, saying:\r\n\r\n\"What? You need not swim yourself. If you will ride on my back I will\r\ntake you without any trouble on your part.\"\r\n\r\n\"But,\" said Urashima, \"how is it possible for me to ride on your small\r\nback?\"\r\n\r\n\"It may seem absurd to you, but I assure you that you can do so. Try at\r\nonce! Just come and get on my back, and see if it is as impossible as\r\nyou think!\"\r\n\r\nAs the tortoise finished speaking, Urashima looked at its shell, and\r\nstrange to say he saw that the creature had suddenly grown so big that\r\na man could easily sit on its back.\r\n\r\n\"This is strange indeed!\" said Urashima; \"then. Mr. Tortoise, with your\r\nkind permission I will get on your back. Dokoisho!\"[2] he exclaimed as\r\nhe jumped on.\r\n\r\n\r\n[2] \"All right\" (only used by lower classes).\r\n\r\n\r\nThe tortoise, with an unmoved face, as if this strange proceeding were\r\nquite an ordinary event, said:\r\n\r\n\"Now we will set out at our leisure,\" and with these words he leapt\r\ninto the sea with Urashima on his back. Down through the water the\r\ntortoise dived. For a long time these two strange companions rode\r\nthrough the sea. Urashima never grew tired, nor his clothes moist with\r\nthe water. At last, far away in the distance a magnificent gate\r\nappeared, and behind the gate, the long, sloping roofs of a palace on\r\nthe horizon.\r\n\r\n\"Ya,\" exclaimed Urashima. \"That looks like the gate of some large\r\npalace just appearing! Mr. Tortoise, can you tell what that place is we\r\ncan now see?\"\r\n\r\n\"That is the great gate of the Rin Gin Palace, the large roof that you\r\nsee behind the gate is the Sea King's Palace itself.\"\r\n\r\n\"Then we have at last come to the realm of the Sea King and to his\r\nPalace,\" said Urashima.\r\n\r\n\"Yes, indeed,\" answered the tortoise, \"and don't you think we have come\r\nvery quickly?\" And while he was speaking the tortoise reached the side\r\nof the gate. \"And here we are, and you must please walk from here.\"\r\n\r\nThe tortoise now went in front, and speaking to the gatekeeper, said:\r\n\r\n\"This is Urashima Taro, from the country of Japan. I have had the honor\r\nof bringing him as a visitor to this kingdom. Please show him the way.\"\r\n\r\nThen the gatekeeper, who was a fish, at once led the way through the\r\ngate before them.\r\n\r\nThe red bream, the flounder, the sole, the cuttlefish, and all the\r\nchief vassals of the Dragon King of the Sea now came out with courtly\r\nbows to welcome the stranger.\r\n\r\n\"Urashima Sama, Urashima Sama! welcome to the Sea Palace, the home of\r\nthe Dragon King of the Sea. Thrice welcome are you, having come from\r\nsuch a distant country. And you, Mr. Tortoise, we are greatly indebted\r\nto you for all your trouble in bringing Urashima here.\" Then, turning\r\nagain to Urashima, they said, \"Please follow us this way,\" and from\r\nhere the whole band of fishes became his guides.\r\n\r\nUrashima, being only a poor fisher lad, did not know how to behave in a\r\npalace; but, strange though it was all to him, he did not feel ashamed\r\nor embarrassed, but followed his kind guides quite calmly where they\r\nled to the inner palace. When he reached the portals a beautiful\r\nPrincess with her attendant maidens came out to welcome him. She was\r\nmore beautiful than any human being, and was robed in flowing garments\r\nof red and soft green like the under side of a wave, and golden threads\r\nglimmered through the folds of her gown. Her lovely black hair streamed\r\nover her shoulders in the fashion of a king's daughter many hundreds of\r\nyears ago, and when she spoke her voice sounded like music over the\r\nwater. Urashima was lost in wonder while he looked upon her, and he\r\ncould not speak. Then he remembered that he ought to bow, but before he\r\ncould make a low obeisance the Princess took him by the hand and led\r\nhim to a beautiful hall, and to the seat of honor at the upper end, and\r\nbade him be seated.\r\n\r\n\"Urashima Taro, it gives me the highest pleasure to welcome you to my\r\nfather's kingdom,\" said the Princess. \"Yesterday you set free a\r\ntortoise, and I have sent for you to thank you for saving my life, for\r\nI was that tortoise. Now if you like you shall live here forever in the\r\nland of eternal youth, where summer never dies and where sorrow never\r\ncomes, and I will be your bride if you will, and we will live together\r\nhappily forever afterwards!\"\r\n\r\nAnd as Urashima listened to her sweet words and gazed upon her lovely\r\nface his heart was filled with a great wonder and joy, and he answered\r\nher, wondering if it was not all a dream:\r\n\r\n\"Thank you a thousand times for your kind speech. There is nothing I\r\ncould wish for more than to be permitted to stay here with you in this\r\nbeautiful land, of which I have often heard, but have never seen to\r\nthis day. Beyond all words, this is the most wonderful place I have\r\never seen.\"\r\n\r\nWhile he was speaking a train of fishes appeared, all dressed in\r\nceremonial, trailing garments. One by one, silently and with stately\r\nsteps, they entered the hall, bearing on coral trays delicacies of fish\r\nand seaweed, such as no one can dream of, and this wondrous feast was\r\nset before the bride and bridegroom. The bridal was celebrated with\r\ndazzling splendor, and in the Sea King's realm there was great\r\nrejoicing. As soon as the young pair had pledged themselves in the\r\nwedding cup of wine, three times three, music was played, and songs\r\nwere sung, and fishes with silver scales and golden tails stepped in\r\nfrom the waves and danced. Urashima enjoyed himself with all his heart.\r\nNever in his whole life had he sat down to such a marvelous feast.\r\n\r\nWhen the feast was over the Princes asked the bridegroom if he would\r\nlike to walk through the palace and see all there was to be seen. Then\r\nthe happy fisherman, following his bride, the Sea King's daughter, was\r\nshown all the wonders of that enchanted land where youth and joy go\r\nhand in hand and neither time nor age can touch them. The palace was\r\nbuilt of coral and adorned with pearls, and the beauties and wonders of\r\nthe place were so great that the tongue fails to describe them.\r\n\r\nBut, to Urashima, more wonderful than the palace was the garden that\r\nsurrounded it. Here was to be seen at one time the scenery of the four\r\ndifferent seasons; the beauties of summer and winter, spring and\r\nautumn, were displayed to the wondering visitor at once.\r\n\r\nFirst, when he looked to the east, the plum and cherry trees were seen\r\nin full bloom, the nightingales sang in the pink avenues, and\r\nbutterflies flitted from flower to flower.\r\n\r\nLooking to the south all the trees were green in the fullness of\r\nsummer, and the day cicala and the night cricket chirruped loudly.\r\n\r\nLooking to the west the autumn maples were ablaze like a sunset sky,\r\nand the chrysanthemums were in perfection.\r\n\r\nLooking to the north the change made Urashima start, for the ground was\r\nsilver white with snow, and trees and bamboos were also covered with\r\nsnow and the pond was thick with ice.\r\n\r\nAnd each day there were new joys and new wonders for Urashima, and so\r\ngreat was his happiness that he forgot everything, even the home he had\r\nleft behind and his parents and his own country, and three days passed\r\nwithout his even thinking of all he had left behind. Then his mind came\r\nback to him and he remembered who he was, and that he did not belong to\r\nthis wonderful land or the Sea King's palace, and he said to himself:\r\n\r\n\"O dear! I must not stay on here, for I have an old father and mother\r\nat home. What can have happened to them all this time? How anxious they\r\nmust have been these days when I did not return as usual. I must go\r\nback at once without letting one more day pass.\" And he began to\r\nprepare for the journey in great haste.\r\n\r\nThen he went to his beautiful wife, the Princess, and bowing low before\r\nher he said:\r\n\r\n\"Indeed, I have been very happy with you for a long time, Otohime Sama\"\r\n(for that was her name), \"and you have been kinder to me than any words\r\ncan tell. But now I must say good-by. I must go back to my old parents.\"\r\n\r\nThen Otohime Sama began to weep, and said softly and sadly:\r\n\r\n\"Is it not well with you here, Urashima, that you wish to leave me so\r\nsoon? Where is the haste? Stay with me yet another day only!\"\r\n\r\nBut Urashima had remembered his old parents, and in Japan the duty to\r\nparents is stronger than everything else, stronger even than pleasure\r\nor love, and he would not be persuaded, but answered:\r\n\r\n\"Indeed, I must go. Do not think that I wish to leave you. It is not\r\nthat. I must go and see my old parents. Let me go for one day and I\r\nwill come back to you.\"\r\n\r\n\"Then,\" said the Princess sorrowfully, \"there is nothing to be done. I\r\nwill send you back to-day to your father and mother, and instead of\r\ntrying to keep you with me one more day, I shall give you this as a\r\ntoken of our love--please take it back with you;\" and she brought him a\r\nbeautiful lacquer box tied about with a silken cord and tassels of red\r\nsilk.\r\n\r\nUrashima had received so much from the Princess already that he felt\r\nsome compunction in taking the gift, and said:\r\n\r\n\"It does not seem right for me to take yet another gift from you after\r\nall the many favors I have received at your hands, but because it is\r\nyour wish I will do so,\" and then he added:\r\n\r\n\"Tell me what is this box?\"\r\n\r\n\"That,\" answered the Princess \"is the tamate-bako (Box of the Jewel\r\nHand), and it contains something very precious. You must not open this\r\nbox, whatever happens! If you open it something dreadful will happen to\r\nyou! Now promise me that you will never open this box!\"\r\n\r\nAnd Urashima promised that he would never, never open the box whatever\r\nhappened.\r\n\r\nThen bidding good-by to Otohime Sama he went down to the seashore, the\r\nPrincess and her attendants following him, and there he found a large\r\ntortoise waiting for him.\r\n\r\nHe quickly mounted the creature's back and was carried away over the\r\nshining sea into the East. He looked back to wave his hand to Otohime\r\nSama till at last he could see her no more, and the land of the Sea\r\nKing and the roofs of the wonderful palace were lost in the far, far\r\ndistance. Then, with his face turned eagerly towards his own land, he\r\nlooked for the rising of the blue hills on the horizon before him.\r\n\r\nAt last the tortoise carried him into the bay he knew so well, and to\r\nthe shore from whence he had set out. He stepped on to the shore and\r\nlooked about him while the tortoise rode away back to the Sea King's\r\nrealm.\r\n\r\nBut what is the strange fear that seizes Urashima as he stands and\r\nlooks about him? Why does he gaze so fixedly at the people that pass\r\nhim by, and why do they in turn stand and look at him? The shore is the\r\nsame and the hills are the same, but the people that he sees walking\r\npast him have very different faces to those he had known so well before.\r\n\r\nWondering what it can mean he walks quickly towards his old home. Even\r\nthat looks different, but a house stands on the spot, and he calls out:\r\n\r\n\"Father, I have just returned!\" and he was about to enter, when he saw\r\na strange man coming out.\r\n\r\n\"Perhaps my parents have moved while I have been away, and have gone\r\nsomewhere else,\" was the fisherman's thought. Somehow he began to feel\r\nstrangely anxious, he could not tell why.\r\n\r\n\"Excuse me,\" said he to the man who was staring at him, \"but till\r\nwithin the last few days I have lived in this house. My name is\r\nUrashima Taro. Where have my parents gone whom I left here?\"\r\n\r\nA very bewildered expression came over the face of the man, and, still\r\ngazing intently on Urashima's face, he said:\r\n\r\n\"What? Are you Urashima Taro?\"\r\n\r\n\"Yes,\" said the fisherman, \"I am Urashima Taro!\"\r\n\r\n\"Ha, ha!\" laughed the man, \"you must not make such jokes. It is true\r\nthat once upon a time a man called Urashima Taro did live in this\r\nvillage, but that is a story three hundred years old. He could not\r\npossibly be alive now!\"\r\n\r\nWhen Urashima heard these strange words he was frightened, and said:\r\n\r\n\"Please, please, you must not joke with me, I am greatly perplexed. I\r\nam really Urashima Taro, and I certainly have not lived three hundred\r\nyears. Till four or five days ago I lived on this spot. Tell me what I\r\nwant to know without more joking, please.\"\r\n\r\nBut the man's face grew more and more grave, and he answered:\r\n\r\n\"You may or may not be Urashima Taro, I don't know. But the Urashima\r\nTaro of whom I have heard is a man who lived three hundred years ago.\r\nPerhaps you are his spirit come to revisit your old home?\"\r\n\r\n\"Why do you mock me?\" said Urashima. \"I am no spirit! I am a living\r\nman--do you not see my feet;\" and \"don-don,\" he stamped on the ground,\r\nfirst with one foot and then with the other to show the man. (Japanese\r\nghosts have no feet.)\r\n\r\n\"But Urashima Taro lived three hundred years ago, that is all I know;\r\nit is written in the village chronicles,\" persisted the man, who could\r\nnot believe what the fisherman said.\r\n\r\nUrashima was lost in bewilderment and trouble. He stood looking all\r\naround him, terribly puzzled, and, indeed, something in the appearance\r\nof everything was different to what he remembered before he went away,\r\nand the awful feeling came over him that what the man said was perhaps\r\ntrue. He seemed to be in a strange dream. The few days he had spent in\r\nthe Sea King's palace beyond the sea had not been days at all: they had\r\nbeen hundreds of years, and in that time his parents had died and all\r\nthe people he had ever known, and the village had written down his\r\nstory. There was no use in staying here any longer. He must get back to\r\nhis beautiful wife beyond the sea.\r\n\r\nHe made his way back to the beach, carrying in his hand the box which\r\nthe Princess had given him. But which was the way? He could not find it\r\nalone! Suddenly he remembered the box, the tamate-bako.\r\n\r\n\"The Princess told me when she gave me the box never to open it--that\r\nit contained a very precious thing. But now that I have no home, now\r\nthat I have lost everything that was dear to me here, and my heart\r\ngrows thin with sadness, at such a time, if I open the box, surely I\r\nshall find something that will help me, something that will show me the\r\nway back to my beautiful Princess over the sea. There is nothing else\r\nfor me to do now. Yes, yes, I will open the box and look in!\"\r\n\r\nAnd so his heart consented to this act of disobedience, and he tried to\r\npersuade himself that he was doing the right thing in breaking his\r\npromise.\r\n\r\nSlowly, very slowly, he untied the red silk cord, slowly and\r\nwonderingly he lifted the lid of the precious box. And what did he\r\nfind? Strange to say only a beautiful little purple cloud rose out of\r\nthe box in three soft wisps. For an instant it covered his face and\r\nwavered over him as if loath to go, and then it floated away like vapor\r\nover the sea.\r\n\r\nUrashima, who had been till that moment like a strong and handsome\r\nyouth of twenty-four, suddenly became very, very old. His back doubled\r\nup with age, his hair turned snowy white, his face wrinkled and he fell\r\ndown dead on the beach.\r\n\r\nPoor Urashima! because of his disobedience he could never return to the\r\nSea King's realm or the lovely Princess beyond the sea.\r\n\r\nLittle children, never be disobedient to those who are wiser than you\r\nfor disobedience was the beginning of all the miseries and sorrows of\r\nlife.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE FARMER AND THE BADGER\r\n\r\n\r\nLong, long ago, there lived an old farmer and his wife who had made\r\ntheir home in the mountains, far from any town. Their only neighbor was\r\na bad and malicious badger. This badger used to come out every night\r\nand run across to the farmer's field and spoil the vegetables and the\r\nrice which the farmer spent his time in carefully cultivating. The\r\nbadger at last grew so ruthless in his mischievous work, and did so\r\nmuch harm everywhere on the farm, that the good-natured farmer could\r\nnot stand it any longer, and determined to put a stop to it. So he lay\r\nin wait day after day and night after night, with a big club, hoping to\r\ncatch the badger, but all in vain. Then he laid traps for the wicked\r\nanimal.\r\n\r\nThe farmer's trouble and patience was rewarded, for one fine day on\r\ngoing his rounds he found the badger caught in a hole he had dug for\r\nthat purpose. The farmer was delighted at having caught his enemy, and\r\ncarried him home securely bound with rope. When he reached the house\r\nthe farmer said to his wife:\r\n\r\n\"I have at last caught the bad badger. You must keep an eye on him\r\nwhile I am out at work and not let him escape, because I want to make\r\nhim into soup to-night.\"\r\n\r\nSaying this, he hung the badger up to the rafters of his storehouse and\r\nwent out to his work in the fields. The badger was in great distress,\r\nfor he did not at all like the idea of being made into soup that night,\r\nand he thought and thought for a long time, trying to hit upon some\r\nplan by which he might escape. It was hard to think clearly in his\r\nuncomfortable position, for he had been hung upside down. Very near\r\nhim, at the entrance to the storehouse, looking out towards the green\r\nfields and the trees and the pleasant sunshine, stood the farmer's old\r\nwife pounding barley. She looked tired and old. Her face was seamed\r\nwith many wrinkles, and was as brown as leather, and every now and then\r\nshe stopped to wipe the perspiration which rolled down her face.\r\n\r\n\"Dear lady,\" said the wily badger, \"you must be very weary doing such\r\nheavy work in your old age. Won't you let me do that for you? My arms\r\nare very strong, and I could relieve you for a little while!\"\r\n\r\n\"Thank you for your kindness,\" said the old woman, \"but I cannot let\r\nyou do this work for me because I must not untie you, for you might\r\nescape if I did, and my husband would be very angry if he came home and\r\nfound you gone.\"\r\n\r\nNow, the badger is one of the most cunning of animals, and he said\r\nagain in a very sad, gentle, voice:\r\n\r\n\"You are very unkind. You might untie me, for I promise not to try to\r\nescape. If you are afraid of your husband, I will let you bind me again\r\nbefore his return when I have finished pounding the barley. I am so\r\ntired and sore tied up like this. If you would only let me down for a\r\nfew minutes I would indeed be thankful!\"\r\n\r\nThe old woman had a good and simple nature, and could not think badly\r\nof any one. Much less did she think that the badger was only deceiving\r\nher in order to get away. She felt sorry, too, for the animal as she\r\nturned to look at him. He looked in such a sad plight hanging downwards\r\nfrom the ceiling by his legs, which were all tied together so tightly\r\nthat the rope and the knots were cutting into the skin. So in the\r\nkindness of her heart, and believing the creature's promise that he\r\nwould not run away, she untied the cord and let him down.\r\n\r\nThe old woman then gave him the wooden pestle and told him to do the\r\nwork for a short time while she rested. He took the pestle, but instead\r\nof doing the work as he was told, the badger at once sprang upon the\r\nold woman and knocked her down with the heavy piece of wood. He then\r\nkilled her and cut her up and made soup of her, and waited for the\r\nreturn of the old farmer. The old man worked hard in his fields all\r\nday, and as he worked he thought with pleasure that no more now would\r\nhis labor be spoiled by the destructive badger.\r\n\r\nTowards sunset he left his work and turned to go home. He was very\r\ntired, but the thought of the nice supper of hot badger soup awaiting\r\nhis return cheered him. The thought that the badger might get free and\r\ntake revenge on the poor old woman never once came into his mind.\r\n\r\nThe badger meanwhile assumed the old woman's form, and as soon as he\r\nsaw the old farmer approaching came out to greet him on the veranda of\r\nthe little house, saying:\r\n\r\n\"So you have come back at last. I have made the badger soup and have\r\nbeen waiting for you for a long time.\"\r\n\r\nThe old farmer quickly took off his straw sandals and sat down before\r\nhis tiny dinner-tray. The innocent man never even dreamed that it was\r\nnot his wife but the badger who was waiting upon him, and asked at once\r\nfor the soup. Then the badger suddenly transformed himself back to his\r\nnatural form and cried out:\r\n\r\n\"You wife-eating old man! Look out for the bones in the kitchen!\"\r\n\r\nLaughing loudly and derisively he escaped out of the house and ran away\r\nto his den in the hills. The old man was left behind alone. He could\r\nhardly believe what he had seen and heard. Then when he understood the\r\nwhole truth he was so scared and horrified that he fainted right away.\r\nAfter a while he came round and burst into tears. He cried loudly and\r\nbitterly. He rocked himself to and fro in his hopeless grief. It seemed\r\ntoo terrible to be real that his faithful old wife had been killed and\r\ncooked by the badger while he was working quietly in the fields,\r\nknowing nothing of what was going on at home, and congratulating\r\nhimself on having once for all got rid of the wicked animal who had so\r\noften spoiled his fields. And oh! the horrible thought; he had very\r\nnearly drunk the soup which the creature had made of his poor old\r\nwoman. \"Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear!\" he wailed aloud. Now, not far away\r\nthere lived in the same mountain a kind, good-natured old rabbit. He\r\nheard the old man crying and sobbing and at once set out to see what\r\nwas the matter, and if there was anything he could do to help his\r\nneighbor. The old man told him all that had happened. When the rabbit\r\nheard the story he was very angry at the wicked and deceitful badger,\r\nand told the old man to leave everything to him and he would avenge his\r\nwife's death. The farmer was at last comforted, and, wiping away his\r\ntears, thanked the rabbit for his goodness in coming to him in his\r\ndistress.\r\n\r\nThe rabbit, seeing that the farmer was growing calmer, went back to his\r\nhome to lay his plans for the punishment of the badger.\r\n\r\nThe next day the weather was fine, and the rabbit went out to find the\r\nbadger. He was not to be seen in the woods or on the hillside or in the\r\nfields anywhere, so the rabbit went to his den and found the badger\r\nhiding there, for the animal had been afraid to show himself ever since\r\nhe had escaped from the farmer's house, for fear of the old man's wrath.\r\n\r\nThe rabbit called out:\r\n\r\n\"Why are you not out on such a beautiful day? Come out with me, and we\r\nwill go and cut grass on the hills together.\"\r\n\r\nThe badger, never doubting but that the rabbit was his friend,\r\nwillingly consented to go out with him, only too glad to get away from\r\nthe neighborhood of the farmer and the fear of meeting him. The rabbit\r\nled the way miles away from their homes, out on the hills where the\r\ngrass grew tall and thick and sweet. They both set to work to cut down\r\nas much as they could carry home, to store it up for their winter's\r\nfood. When they had each cut down all they wanted they tied it in\r\nbundles and then started homewards, each carrying his bundle of grass\r\non his back. This time the rabbit made the badger go first.\r\n\r\nWhen they had gone a little way the rabbit took out a flint and steel,\r\nand, striking it over the badger's back as he stepped along in front,\r\nset his bundle of grass on fire. The badger heard the flint striking,\r\nand asked:\r\n\r\n\"What is that noise. 'Crack, crack'?\"\r\n\r\n\"Oh, that is nothing.\" replied the rabbit; \"I only said 'Crack, crack'\r\nbecause this mountain is called Crackling Mountain.\"\r\n\r\nThe fire soon spread in the bundle of dry grass on the badger's back.\r\nThe badger, hearing the crackle of the burning grass, asked, \"What is\r\nthat?\"\r\n\r\n\"Now we have come to the 'Burning Mountain,'\" answered the rabbit.\r\n\r\nBy this time the bundle was nearly burned out and all the hair had been\r\nburned off the badger's back. He now knew what had happened by the\r\nsmell of the smoke of the burning grass. Screaming with pain the badger\r\nran as fast as he could to his hole. The rabbit followed and found him\r\nlying on his bed groaning with pain.\r\n\r\n\"What an unlucky fellow you are!\" said the rabbit. \"I can't imagine how\r\nthis happened! I will bring you some medicine which will heal your back\r\nquickly!\"\r\n\r\nThe rabbit went away glad and smiling to think that the punishment upon\r\nthe badger had already begun. He hoped that the badger would die of his\r\nburns, for he felt that nothing could be too bad for the animal, who\r\nwas guilty of murdering a poor helpless old woman who had trusted him.\r\nHe went home and made an ointment by mixing some sauce and red pepper\r\ntogether.\r\n\r\nHe carried this to the badger, but before putting it on he told him\r\nthat it would cause him great pain, but that he must bear it patiently,\r\nbecause it was a very wonderful medicine for burns and scalds and such\r\nwounds. The badger thanked him and begged him to apply it at once. But\r\nno language can describe the agony of the badger as soon as the red\r\npepper had been pasted all over his sore back. He rolled over and over\r\nand howled loudly. The rabbit, looking on, felt that the farmer's wife\r\nwas beginning to be avenged.\r\n\r\nThe badger was in bed for about a month; but at last, in spite of the\r\nred pepper application, his burns healed and he got well. When the\r\nrabbit saw that the badger was getting well, he thought of another plan\r\nby which he could compass the creature's death. So he went one day to\r\npay the badger a visit and to congratulate him on his recovery.\r\n\r\nDuring the conversation the rabbit mentioned that he was going fishing,\r\nand described how pleasant fishing was when the weather was fine and\r\nthe sea smooth.\r\n\r\nThe badger listened with pleasure to the rabbit's account of the way he\r\npassed his time now, and forgot all his pains and his month's illness,\r\nand thought what fun it would be if he could go fishing too; so he\r\nasked the rabbit if he would take him the next time he went out to\r\nfish. This was just what the rabbit wanted, so he agreed.\r\n\r\nThen he went home and built two boats, one of wood and the other of\r\nclay. At last they were both finished, and as the rabbit stood and\r\nlooked at his work he felt that all his trouble would be well rewarded\r\nif his plan succeeded, and he could manage to kill the wicked badger\r\nnow.\r\n\r\nThe day came when the rabbit had arranged to take the badger fishing.\r\nHe kept the wooden boat himself and gave the badger the clay boat. The\r\nbadger, who knew nothing about boats, was delighted with his new boat\r\nand thought how kind it was of the rabbit to give it to him. They both\r\ngot into their boats and set out. After going some distance from the\r\nshore the rabbit proposed that they should try their boats and see\r\nwhich one could go the quickest. The badger fell in with the proposal,\r\nand they both set to work to row as fast as they could for some time.\r\nIn the middle of the race the badger found his boat going to pieces,\r\nfor the water now began to soften the clay. He cried out in great fear\r\nto the rabbit to help him. But the rabbit answered that he was avenging\r\nthe old woman's murder, and that this had been his intention all along,\r\nand that he was happy to think that the badger had at last met his\r\ndeserts for all his evil crimes, and was to drown with no one to help\r\nhim. Then he raised his oar and struck at the badger with all his\r\nstrength till he fell with the sinking clay boat and was seen no more.\r\n\r\nThus at last he kept his promise to the old farmer. The rabbit now\r\nturned and rowed shorewards, and having landed and pulled his boat upon\r\nthe beach, hurried back to tell the old farmer everything, and how the\r\nbadger, his enemy, had been killed.\r\n\r\nThe old farmer thanked him with tears in his eyes. He said that till\r\nnow he could never sleep at night or be at peace in the daytime,\r\nthinking of how his wife's death was unavenged, but from this time he\r\nwould be able to sleep and eat as of old. He begged the rabbit to stay\r\nwith him and share his home, so from this day the rabbit went to stay\r\nwith the old farmer and they both lived together as good friends to the\r\nend of their days.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE shinansha, OR THE SOUTH POINTING CARRIAGE.\r\n\r\n\r\nThe compass, with its needle always pointing to the North, is quite a\r\ncommon thing, and no one thinks that it is remarkable now, though when\r\nit was first invented it must have been a wonder.\r\n\r\nNow long ago in China, there was a still more wonderful invention\r\ncalled the shinansha. This was a kind of chariot with the figure of a\r\nman on it always pointing to the South. No matter how the chariot was\r\nplaced the figure always wheeled about and pointed to the South.\r\n\r\nThis curious instrument was invented by Kotei, one of the three Chinese\r\nEmperors of the Mythological age. Kotei was the son of the Emperor\r\nYuhi. Before he was born his mother had a vision which foretold that\r\nher son would be a great man.\r\n\r\nOne summer evening she went out to walk in the meadows to seek the cool\r\nbreezes which blow at the end of the day and to gaze with pleasure at\r\nthe star-lit heavens above her. As she looked at the North Star,\r\nstrange to relate, it shot forth vivid flashes of lightning in every\r\ndirection. Soon after this her son Kotei came into the world.\r\n\r\nKotei in time grew to manhood and succeeded his father the Emperor\r\nYuhi. His early reign was greatly troubled by the rebel Shiyu. This\r\nrebel wanted to make himself King, and many were the battles which he\r\nfought to this end. Shiyu was a wicked magician, his head was made of\r\niron, and there was no man that could conquer him.\r\n\r\nAt last Kotei declared war against the rebel and led his army to\r\nbattle, and the two armies met on a plain called Takuroku. The Emperor\r\nboldly attacked the enemy, but the magician brought down a dense fog\r\nupon the battlefield, and while the royal army were wandering about in\r\nconfusion, trying to find their way, Shiyu retreated with his troops,\r\nlaughing at having fooled the royal army.\r\n\r\nNo matter however strong and brave the Emperor's soldiers were, the\r\nrebel with his magic could always escape in the end.\r\n\r\nKotei returned to his Palace, and thought and pondered deeply as to how\r\nhe should conquer the magician, for he was determined not to give up\r\nyet. After a long time he invented the shinansha with the figure of a\r\nman always pointing South, for there were no compasses in those days.\r\nWith this instrument to show him the way he need not fear the dense\r\nfogs raised up by the magician to confound his men.\r\n\r\nKotei again declared war against Shiyu. He placed the shinansha in\r\nfront of his army and led the way to the battlefield.\r\n\r\nThe battle began in earnest. The rebel was being driven backward by the\r\nroyal troops when he again resorted to magic, and upon his saying some\r\nstrange words in a loud voice, immediately a dense fog came down upon\r\nthe battlefield.\r\n\r\nBut this time no soldier minded the fog, not one was confused. Kotei by\r\npointing to the shinansha could find his way and directed the army\r\nwithout a single mistake. He closely pursued the rebel army and drove\r\nthem backward till they came to a big river. This river Kotei and his\r\nmen found was swollen by the floods and impossible to cross.\r\n\r\nShiyu by using his magic art quickly passed over with his army and shut\r\nhimself up in a fortress on the opposite bank.\r\n\r\nWhen Kotei found his march checked he was wild with disappointment, for\r\nhe had very nearly overtaken the rebel when the river stopped him.\r\n\r\nHe could do nothing, for there were no boats in those days, so the\r\nEmperor ordered his tent to be pitched in the pleasantest spot that the\r\nplace afforded.\r\n\r\nOne day he stepped forth from his tent and after walking about for a\r\nshort time he came to a pond. Here he sat down on the bank and was lost\r\nin thought.\r\n\r\nIt was autumn. The trees growing along the edge of the water were\r\nshedding their leaves, which floated hither and thither on the surface\r\nof the pond. By and by, Kotei's attention was attracted to a spider on\r\nthe brink of the water. The little insect was trying to get on to one\r\nof the floating leaves near by. It did so at last, and was soon\r\nfloating over the water to the other side of the pond.\r\n\r\nThis little incident made the clever Emperor think that he might try to\r\nmake something that could carry himself and his men over the river in\r\nthe same way that the leaf had carried over the spider. He set to work\r\nand persevered till he invented the first boat. When he found that it\r\nwas a success he set all his men to make more, and in time there were\r\nenough boats for the whole army.\r\n\r\nKotei now took his army across the river, and attacked Shiyu's\r\nheadquarters. He gained a complete victory, and so put an end to the\r\nwar which had troubled his country for so long.\r\n\r\nThis wise and good Emperor did not rest till he had secured peace and\r\nprosperity throughout his whole land. He was beloved by his subjects,\r\nwho now enjoyed their happiness of peace for many long years under him.\r\nHe spent a great deal of time in making inventions which would benefit\r\nhis people, and he succeeded in many besides the boat and the South\r\nPointing shinansha.\r\n\r\nHe had reigned about a hundred years when one day, as Kotei was looking\r\nupwards, the sky became suddenly red, and something came glittering\r\nlike gold towards the earth. As it came nearer Kotei saw that it was a\r\ngreat Dragon. The Dragon approached and bowed down its head before the\r\nEmperor. The Empress and the courtiers were so frightened that they ran\r\naway screaming.\r\n\r\nBut the Emperor only smiled and called to them to stop, and said:\r\n\r\n\"Do not be afraid. This is a messenger from Heaven. My time here is\r\nfinished!\" He then mounted the Dragon, which began to ascend towards\r\nthe sky.\r\n\r\nWhen the Empress and the courtiers saw this they all cried out together:\r\n\r\n\"Wait a moment! We wish to come too.\" And they all ran and caught hold\r\nof the Dragon's beard and tried to mount him.\r\n\r\nBut it was impossible for so many people to ride on the Dragon. Several\r\nof them hung on to the creature's beard so that when it tried to mount\r\nthe hair was pulled out and they fell to the ground.\r\n\r\nMeanwhile the Empress and a few of the courtiers were safely seated on\r\nthe Dragon's back. The Dragon flew up so high in the heavens that in a\r\nshort time the inmates of the Palace, who had been left behind\r\ndisappointed, could see them no more.\r\n\r\nAfter some time a bow and an arrow dropped to the earth in the\r\ncourtyard of the Palace. They were recognized as having belonged to the\r\nEmperor Kotei. The courtiers took them up carefully and preserved them\r\nas sacred relics in the Palace.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE ADVENTURES OF KINTARO, THE GOLDEN BOY.\r\n\r\n\r\nLong, long ago there lived in Kyoto a brave soldier named Kintoki. Now\r\nhe fell in love with a beautiful lady and married her. Not long after\r\nthis, through the malice of some of his friends, he fell into disgrace\r\nat Court and was dismissed. This misfortune so preyed upon his mind\r\nthat he did not long survive his dismissal--he died, leaving behind him\r\nhis beautiful young wife to face the world alone. Fearing her husband's\r\nenemies, she fled to the Ashigara Mountains as soon as her husband was\r\ndead, and there in the lonely forests where no one ever came except\r\nwoodcutters, a little boy was born to her. She called him Kintaro or\r\nthe Golden Boy. Now the remarkable thing about this child was his great\r\nstrength, and as he grew older he grew stronger and stronger, so that\r\nby the time he was eight years of age he was able to cut down trees as\r\nquickly as the woodcutters. Then his mother gave him a large ax, and he\r\nused to go out in the forest and help the woodcutters, who called him\r\n\"Wonder-child,\" and his mother the \"Old Nurse of the Mountains,\" for\r\nthey did not know her high rank. Another favorite pastime of Kintaro's\r\nwas to smash up rocks and stones. You can imagine how strong he was!\r\n\r\nQuite unlike other boys, Kintaro, grew up all alone in the mountain\r\nwilds, and as he had no companions he made friends with all the animals\r\nand learned to understand them and to speak their strange talk. By\r\ndegrees they all grew quite tame and looked upon Kintaro as their\r\nmaster, and he used them as his servants and messengers. But his\r\nspecial retainers were the bear, the deer, the monkey and the hare.\r\n\r\nThe bear often brought her cubs for Kintaro to romp with, and when she\r\ncame to take them home Kintaro would get on her back and have a ride to\r\nher cave. He was very fond of the deer too, and would often put his\r\narms round the creature's neck to show that its long horns did not\r\nfrighten him. Great was the fun they all had together.\r\n\r\nOne day, as usual, Kintaro went up into the mountains, followed by the\r\nbear, the deer, the monkey, and the hare. After walking for some time\r\nup hill and down dale and over rough roads, they suddenly came out upon\r\na wide and grassy plain covered with pretty wild flowers.\r\n\r\nHere, indeed, was a nice place where they could all have a good romp\r\ntogether. The deer rubbed his horns against a tree for pleasure, the\r\nmonkey scratched his back, the hare smoothed his long ears, and the\r\nbear gave a grunt of satisfaction.\r\n\r\nKintaro said, \"Here is a place for a good game. What do you all say to\r\na wrestling match?\"\r\n\r\nThe bear being the biggest and the oldest, answered for the others:\r\n\r\n\"That will be great fun,\" said she. \"I am the strongest animal, so I\r\nwill make the platform for the wrestlers;\" and she set to work with a\r\nwill to dig up the earth and to pat it into shape.\r\n\r\n\"All right,\" said Kintaro, \"I will look on while you all wrestle with\r\neach other. I shall give a prize to the one who wins in each round.\"\r\n\r\n\"What fun! we shall all try to get the prize,\" said the bear.\r\n\r\nThe deer, the monkey and the hare set to work to help the bear raise\r\nthe platform on which they were all to wrestle. When this was finished,\r\nKintaro cried out:\r\n\r\n\"Now begin! the monkey and the hare shall open the sports and the deer\r\nshall be umpire. Now, Mr. Deer, you are to be umpire!\"\r\n\r\n\"He, he!\" answered the deer. \"I will be umpire. Now, Mr. Monkey and Mr.\r\nHare, if you are both ready, please walk out and take your places on\r\nthe platform.\"\r\n\r\nThen the monkey and the hare both hopped out, quickly and nimbly, to\r\nthe wrestling platform. The deer, as umpire, stood between the two and\r\ncalled out:\r\n\r\n\"Red-back! Red-back!\" (this to the monkey, who has a red back in\r\nJapan). \"Are you ready?\"\r\n\r\nThen he turned to the hare:\r\n\r\n\"Long-ears! Long-ears! are you ready?\"\r\n\r\nBoth the little wrestlers faced each other while the deer raised a leaf\r\non high as signal. When he dropped the leaf the monkey and the hare\r\nrushed upon each other, crying \"Yoisho, yoisho!\"\r\n\r\nWhile the monkey and the hare wrestled, the deer called out\r\nencouragingly or shouted warnings to each of them as the hare or the\r\nmonkey pushed each other near the edge of the platform and were in\r\ndanger of falling over.\r\n\r\n\"Red-back! Red-back! stand your ground!\" called out the deer.\r\n\r\n\"Long-ears! Long-ears! be strong, be strong--don't let the monkey beat\r\nyou!\" grunted the bear.\r\n\r\nSo the monkey and the hare, encouraged by their friends, tried their\r\nvery hardest to beat each other. The hare at last gained on the monkey.\r\nThe monkey seemed to trip up, and the hare giving him a good push sent\r\nhim flying off the platform with a bound.\r\n\r\nThe poor monkey sat up rubbing his back, and his face was very long as\r\nhe screamed angrily. \"Oh, oh! how my back hurts--my back hurts me!\"\r\n\r\nSeeing the monkey in this plight on the ground, the deer holding his\r\nleaf on high said:\r\n\r\n\"This round is finished--the hare has won.\"\r\n\r\nKintaro then opened his luncheon box and taking out a rice-dumpling,\r\ngave it to the hare saying:\r\n\r\n\"Here is your prize, and you have earned, it well!\"\r\n\r\nNow the monkey got up looking very cross, and as they say in Japan \"his\r\nstomach stood up,\" for he felt that he had not been fairly beaten. So\r\nhe said to Kintaro and the others who were standing by:\r\n\r\n\"I have not been fairly beaten. My foot slipped and I tumbled. Please\r\ngive me another chance and let the hare wrestle with me for another\r\nround.\"\r\n\r\nThen Kintaro consenting, the hare and the monkey began to wrestle\r\nagain. Now, as every one knows, the monkey is a cunning animal by\r\nnature, and he made up his mind to get the best of the hare this time\r\nif it were possible. To do this, he thought that the best and surest\r\nway would be to get hold of the hare's long ear. This he soon managed\r\nto do. The hare was quite thrown off his guard by the pain of having\r\nhis long ear pulled so hard, and the monkey seizing his opportunity at\r\nlast, caught hold of one of the hare's legs and sent him sprawling in\r\nthe middle of the dais. The monkey was now the victor and received, a\r\nrice-dumpling from Kintaro, which pleased him so much that he quite\r\nforgot his sore back.\r\n\r\nThe deer now came up and asked the hare if he felt ready for another\r\nround, and if so whether he would try a round with him, and the hare\r\nconsenting, they both stood up to wrestle. The bear came forward as\r\numpire.\r\n\r\nThe deer with long horns and the hare with long ears, it must have been\r\nan amusing sight to those who watched this queer match. Suddenly the\r\ndeer went down on one of his knees, and the bear with the leaf on high\r\ndeclared him beaten. In this way, sometimes the one, sometimes the\r\nother, conquering, the little party amused themselves till they were\r\ntired.\r\n\r\nAt last Kintaro got up and said:\r\n\r\n\"This is enough for to-day. What a nice place we have found for\r\nwrestling; let us come again to-morrow. Now, we will all go home. Come\r\nalong!\" So saying, Kintaro led the way while the animals followed.\r\n\r\nAfter walking some little distance they came out on the banks of a\r\nriver flowing through a valley. Kintaro and his four furry friends\r\nstood and looked about for some means of crossing. Bridge there was\r\nnone. The river rushed \"don, don\" on its way. All the animals looked\r\nserious, wondering how they could cross the stream and get home that\r\nevening.\r\n\r\nKintaro, however, said:\r\n\r\n\"Wait a moment. I will make a good bridge for you all in a few minutes.\"\r\n\r\nThe bear, the deer, the monkey and the hare looked at him to see what\r\nhe would do now.\r\n\r\nKintaro went from one tree to another that grew along the river bank.\r\nAt last he stopped in front of a very large tree that was growing at\r\nthe water's edge. He took hold of the trunk and pulled it with all his\r\nmight, once, twice, thrice! At the third pull, so great was Kintaro's\r\nstrength that the roots gave way, and \"meri, meri\" (crash, crash), over\r\nfell the tree, forming an excellent bridge across the stream.\r\n\r\n\"There,\" said Kintaro, \"what do you think of my bridge? It is quite\r\nsafe, so follow me,\" and he stepped across first. The four animals\r\nfollowed. Never had they seen any one so strong before, and they all\r\nexclaimed:\r\n\r\n\"How strong he is! how strong he is!\"\r\n\r\nWhile all this was going on by the river a woodcutter, who happened to\r\nbe standing on a rock overlooking the stream, had seen all that passed\r\nbeneath him. He watched with great surprise Kintaro and his animal\r\ncompanions. He rubbed his eyes to be sure that he was not dreaming when\r\nhe saw this boy pull over a tree by the roots and throw it across the\r\nstream to form a bridge.\r\n\r\nThe woodcutter, for such he seemed to be by his dress, marveled at all\r\nhe saw, and said to himself:\r\n\r\n\"This is no ordinary child. Whose son can he be? I will find out before\r\nthis day is done.\"\r\n\r\nHe hastened after the strange party and crossed the bridge behind them.\r\nKintaro knew nothing of all this, and little guessed that he was being\r\nfollowed. On reaching the other side of the river he and the animals\r\nseparated, they to their lairs in the woods and he to his mother, who\r\nwas waiting for him.\r\n\r\nAs soon as he entered the cottage, which stood like a matchbox in the\r\nheart of the pine-woods, he went to greet his mother, saying:\r\n\r\n\"Okkasan (mother), here I am!\"\r\n\r\n\"O, Kimbo!\" said his mother with a bright smile, glad to see her boy\r\nhome safe after the long day. \"How late you are to-day. I feared that\r\nsomething had happened to you. Where have you been all the time?\"\r\n\r\n\"I took my four friends, the bear, the deer, the monkey, and the hare,\r\nup into the hills, and there I made them try a wrestling match, to see\r\nwhich was the strongest. We all enjoyed the sport, and are going to the\r\nsame place to-morrow to have another match.\"\r\n\r\n\"Now tell me who is the strongest of all?\" asked his mother, pretending\r\nnot to know.\r\n\r\n\"Oh, mother,\" said Kintaro, \"don't you know that I am the strongest?\r\nThere was no need for me to wrestle with any of them.\"\r\n\r\n\"But next to you then, who is the strongest?\"\r\n\r\n\"The bear comes next to me in strength,\" answered Kintaro.\r\n\r\n\"And after the bear?\" asked his mother again.\r\n\r\n\"Next to the bear it is not easy to say which is the strongest, for the\r\ndeer, the monkey, and the hare all seem to be as strong as each other,\"\r\nsaid Kintaro.\r\n\r\nSuddenly Kintaro and his mother were startled by a voice from outside.\r\n\r\n\"Listen to me, little boy! Next time you go, take this old man with you\r\nto the wrestling match. He would like to join the sport too!\"\r\n\r\nIt was the old woodcutter who had followed Kintaro from the river. He\r\nslipped off his clogs and entered the cottage. Yama-uba and her son\r\nwere both taken by surprise. They looked at the intruder wonderingly\r\nand saw that he was some one they had never seen before.\r\n\r\n\"Who are you?\" they both exclaimed.\r\n\r\nThen the woodcutter laughed and said:\r\n\r\n\"It does not matter who I am yet, but let us see who has the strongest\r\narm--this boy or myself?\"\r\n\r\nThen Kintaro, who had lived all his life in the forest, answered the\r\nold man without any ceremony, saying:\r\n\r\n\"We will have a try if you wish it, but you must not be angry whoever\r\nis beaten.\"\r\n\r\nThen Kintaro and the woodcutter both put out their right arms and\r\ngrasped each other's hands. For a long time Kintaro and the old man\r\nwrestled together in this way, each trying to bend the other's arm, but\r\nthe old man was very strong, and the strange pair were evenly matched.\r\nAt last the old man desisted, declaring it a drawn game.\r\n\r\n\"You are, indeed, a very strong child. There are few men who can boast\r\nof the strength of my right arm!\" said the woodcutter. \"I saw you first\r\non the banks of the river a few hours ago, when you pulled up that\r\nlarge tree to make a bridge across the torrent. Hardly able to believe\r\nwhat I saw I followed you home. Your strength of arm, which I have just\r\ntried, proves what I saw this afternoon. When you are full-grown you\r\nwill surely be the strongest man in all Japan. It is a pity that you\r\nare hidden away in these wild mountains.\"\r\n\r\nThen he turned to Kintaro's mother:\r\n\r\n\"And you, mother, have you no thought of taking your child to the\r\nCapital, and of teaching him to carry a sword as befits a samurai (a\r\nJapanese knight)?\"\r\n\r\n\"You are very kind to take so much interest in my son.\" replied the\r\nmother; \"but he is as you see, wild and uneducated, and I fear it would\r\nbe very difficult to do as you say. Because of his great strength as an\r\ninfant I hid him away in this unknown part of the country, for he hurt\r\nevery one that came near him. I have often wished that I could, one\r\nday, see my boy a knight wearing two swords, but as we have no\r\ninfluential friend to introduce us at the Capital, I fear my hope will\r\nnever come true.\"\r\n\r\n\"You need not trouble yourself about that. To tell you the truth I am\r\nno woodcutter! I am one of the great generals of Japan. My name is\r\nSadamitsu, and I am a vassal of the powerful Lord Minamoto-no-Raiko. He\r\nordered me to go round the country and look for boys who give promise\r\nof remarkable strength, so that they may be trained as soldiers for his\r\narmy. I thought that I could best do this by assuming the disguise of a\r\nwoodcutter. By good fortune, I have thus unexpectedly come across your\r\nson. Now if you really wish him to be a SAMURAI (a knight), I will take\r\nhim and present him to the Lord Raiko as a candidate for his service.\r\nWhat do you say to this?\"\r\n\r\nAs the kind general gradually unfolded his plan the mother's heart was\r\nfilled with a great joy. She saw that here was a wonderful chance of\r\nthe one wish of her life being fulfilled--that of seeing Kintaro a\r\nSAMURAI before she died.\r\n\r\nBowing her head to the ground, she replied:\r\n\r\n\"I will then intrust my son to you if you really mean what you say.\"\r\n\r\nKintaro had all this time been sitting by his mother's side listening\r\nto what they said. When his mother finished speaking, he exclaimed:\r\n\r\n\"Oh, joy! joy! I am to go with the general and one day I shall be a\r\nSAMURAI!\"\r\n\r\nThus Kintaro's fate was settled, and the general decided to start for\r\nthe Capital at once, taking Kintaro with him. It need hardly be said\r\nthat Yama-uba was sad at parting with her boy, for he was all that was\r\nleft to her. But she hid her grief with a strong face, as they say in\r\nJapan. She knew that it was for her boy's good that he should leave her\r\nnow, and she must not discourage him just as he was setting out.\r\nKintaro promised never to forget her, and said that as soon as he was a\r\nknight wearing two swords he would build her a home and take care of\r\nher in her old age.\r\n\r\nAll the animals, those he had tamed to serve him, the bear, the deer,\r\nthe monkey, and the hare, as soon as they found out that he was going\r\naway, came to ask if they might attend him as usual. When they learned\r\nthat he was going away for good they followed him to the foot of the\r\nmountain to see him off.\r\n\r\n\"Kimbo,\" said his mother, \"mind and be a good boy.\"\r\n\r\n\"Mr. Kintaro,\" said the faithful animals, \"we wish you good health on\r\nyour travels.\"\r\n\r\nThen they all climbed a tree to see the last of him, and from that\r\nheight they watched him and his shadow gradually grow smaller and\r\nsmaller, till he was lost to sight.\r\n\r\nThe general Sadamitsu went on his way rejoicing at having so\r\nunexpectedly found such a prodigy as Kintaro.\r\n\r\nHaving arrived at their destination the general took Kintaro at once to\r\nhis Lord, Minamoto-no-Raiko, and told him all about Kintaro and how he\r\nhad found the child. Lord Raiko was delighted with the story, and\r\nhaving commanded Kintaro to be brought to him, made him one of his\r\nvassals at once.\r\n\r\nLord Raiko's army was famous for its band called \"The Four Braves.\"\r\nThese warriors were chosen by himself from amongst the bravest and\r\nstrongest of his soldiers, and the small and well-picked band was\r\ndistinguished throughout the whole of Japan for the dauntless courage\r\nof its men.\r\n\r\nWhen Kintaro grew up to be a man his master made him the Chief of the\r\nFour Braves. He was by far the strongest of them all. Soon after this\r\nevent, news was brought to the city that a cannibal monster had taken\r\nup his abode not far away and that people were stricken with fear. Lord\r\nRaiko ordered Kintaro to the rescue. He immediately started off,\r\ndelighted at the prospect of trying his sword.\r\n\r\nSurprising the monster in its den, he made short work of cutting off\r\nits great head, which he carried back in triumph to his master.\r\n\r\nKintaro now rose to be the greatest hero of his country, and great was\r\nthe power and honor and wealth that came to him. He now kept his\r\npromise and built a comfortable home for his old mother, who lived\r\nhappily with him in the Capital to the end of her days.\r\n\r\nIs not this the story of a great hero?\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE STORY OF PRINCESS HASE.\r\n\r\nA STORY OF OLD JAPAN.\r\n\r\n\r\nMany, many years ago there lived in Nara, the ancient Capital of Japan,\r\na wise State minister, by name Prince Toyonari Fujiwara. His wife was a\r\nnoble, good, and beautiful woman called Princess Murasaki (Violet).\r\nThey had been married by their respective families according to\r\nJapanese custom when very young, and had lived together happily ever\r\nsince. They had, however, one cause for great sorrow, for as the years\r\nwent by no child was born to them. This made them very unhappy, for\r\nthey both longed to see a child of their own who would grow up to\r\ngladden their old age, carry on the family name, and keep up the\r\nancestral rites when they were dead. The Prince and his lovely wife,\r\nafter long consultation and much thought, determined to make a\r\npilgrimage to the temple of Hase-no-Kwannon (Goddess of Mercy at Hase),\r\nfor they believed, according to the beautiful tradition of their\r\nreligion, that the Mother of Mercy, Kwannon, comes to answer the\r\nprayers of mortals in the form that they need the most. Surely after\r\nall these years of prayer she would come to them in the form of a\r\nbeloved child in answer to their special pilgrimage, for that was the\r\ngreatest need of their two lives. Everything else they had that this\r\nlife could give them, but it was all as nothing because the cry of\r\ntheir hearts was unsatisfied.\r\n\r\nSo the Prince Toyonari and his wife went to the temple of Kwannon at\r\nHase and stayed there for a long time, both daily offering incense and\r\npraying to Kwannon, the Heavenly Mother, to grant them the desire of\r\ntheir whole lives. And their prayer was answered.\r\n\r\nA daughter was born at last to the Princess Murasaki, and great was the\r\njoy of her heart. On presenting the child to her husband, they both\r\ndecided to call her Hase-Hime, or the Princess of Hase, because she was\r\nthe gift of the Kwannon at that place. They both reared her with great\r\ncare and tenderness, and the child grew in strength and beauty.\r\n\r\nWhen the little girl was five years old her mother fell dangerously ill\r\nand all the doctors and their medicines could not save her. A little\r\nbefore she breathed her last she called her daughter to her, and gently\r\nstroking her head, said:\r\n\r\n\"Hase-Hime, do you know that your mother cannot live any longer? Though\r\nI die, you must grow up a good girl. Do your best not to give trouble\r\nto your nurse or any other of your family. Perhaps your father will\r\nmarry again and some one will fill my place as your mother. If so do\r\nnot grieve for me, but look upon your father's second wife as your true\r\nmother, and be obedient and filial to both her and your father.\r\nRemember when you are grown up to be submissive to those who are your\r\nsuperiors, and to be kind to all those who are under you. Don't forget\r\nthis. I die with the hope that you will grow up a model woman.\"\r\n\r\nHase-Hime listened in an attitude of respect while her mother spoke,\r\nand promised to do all that she was told. There is a proverb which says\r\n\"As the soul is at three so it is at one hundred,\" and so Hase-Hime\r\ngrew up as her mother had wished, a good and obedient little Princess,\r\nthough she was now too young to understand how great was the loss of\r\nher mother.\r\n\r\nNot long after the death of his first wife, Prince Toyonari married\r\nagain, a lady of noble birth named Princess Terute. Very different in\r\ncharacter, alas! to the good and wise Princess Murasaki, this woman had\r\na cruel, bad heart. She did not love her step-daughter at all, and was\r\noften very unkind to the little motherless girl, saving to herself:\r\n\r\n\"This is not my child! this is not my child!\"\r\n\r\nBut Hase-Hime bore every unkindness with patience, and even waited upon\r\nher step-mother kindly and obeyed her in every way and never gave any\r\ntrouble, just as she had been trained by her own good mother, so that\r\nthe Lady Terute had no cause for complaint against her.\r\n\r\nThe little Princess was very diligent, and her favorite studies were\r\nmusic and poetry. She would spend several hours practicing every day,\r\nand her father had the most proficient of masters he could find to\r\nteach her the koto (Japanese harp), the art of writing letters and\r\nverse. When she was twelve years of age she could play so beautifully\r\nthat she and her step-mother were summoned to the Palace to perform\r\nbefore the Emperor.\r\n\r\nIt was the Festival of the Cherry Flowers, and there were great\r\nfestivities at the Court. The Emperor threw himself into the enjoyment\r\nof the season, and commanded that Princess Hase should perform before\r\nhim on the koto, and that her mother Princess Terute should accompany\r\nher on the flute.\r\n\r\nThe Emperor sat on a raised dais, before which was hung a curtain of\r\nfinely-sliced bamboo and purple tassels, so that His Majesty might see\r\nall and not be seen, for no ordinary subject was allowed to look upon\r\nhis sacred face.\r\n\r\nHase-Hime was a skilled musician though so young, and often astonished\r\nher masters by her wonderful memory and talent. On this momentous\r\noccasion she played well. But Princess Terute, her step-mother, who was\r\na lazy woman and never took the trouble to practice daily, broke down\r\nin her accompaniment and had to request one of the Court ladies to take\r\nher place. This was a great disgrace, and she was furiously jealous to\r\nthink that she had failed where her step-daughter succeeded; and to\r\nmake matters worse the Emperor sent many beautiful gifts to the little\r\nPrincess to reward her for playing so well at the Palace.\r\n\r\nThere was also now another reason why Princess Terute hated her\r\nstep-daughter, for she had had the good fortune to have a son born to\r\nher, and in her inmost heart she kept saying:\r\n\r\n\"If only Hase-Hime were not here, my son would have all the love of his\r\nfather.\"\r\n\r\nAnd never having learned to control herself, she allowed this wicked\r\nthought to grow into the awful desire of taking her step-daughter's\r\nlife.\r\n\r\nSo one day she secretly ordered some poison and poisoned some sweet\r\nwine. This poisoned wine she put into a bottle. Into another similar\r\nbottle she poured some good wine. It was the occasion of the Boys'\r\nFestival on the fifth of May, and Hase-Hime was playing with her little\r\nbrother. All his toys of warriors and heroes were spread out and she\r\nwas telling him wonderful stories about each of them. They were both\r\nenjoying themselves and laughing merrily with their attendants when his\r\nmother entered with the two bottles of wine and some delicious cakes.\r\n\r\n\"You are both so good and happy.\" said the wicked Princess Terute with\r\na smile, \"that I have brought you some sweet wine as a reward--and here\r\nare some nice cakes for my good children.\"\r\n\r\nAnd she filled two cups from the different bottles.\r\n\r\nHase-Hime, never dreaming of the dreadful part her step-mother was\r\nacting, took one of the cups of wine and gave to her little step\r\nbrother the other that had been poured out for him.\r\n\r\nThe wicked woman had carefully marked the poisoned bottle, but on\r\ncoming into the room she had grown nervous, and pouring out the wine\r\nhurriedly had unconsciously given the poisoned cup to her own child.\r\nAll this time she was anxiously watching the little Princess, but to\r\nher amazement no change whatever took place in the young girl's face.\r\nSuddenly the little boy screamed and threw himself on the floor,\r\ndoubled up with pain. His mother flew to him, taking the precaution to\r\nupset the two tiny jars of wine which she had brought into the room,\r\nand lifted him up. The attendants rushed for the doctor, but nothing\r\ncould save the child--he died within the hour in his mother's arms.\r\nDoctors did not know much in those ancient times, and it was thought\r\nthat the wine had disagreed with the boy, causing convulsions of which\r\nhe died.\r\n\r\nThus was the wicked woman punished in losing her own child when she had\r\ntried to do away with her step-daughter; but instead of blaming herself\r\nshe began to hate Hase-Hime more than ever in the bitterness and\r\nwretchedness of her own heart, and she eagerly watched for an\r\nopportunity to do her harm, which was, however, long in coming.\r\n\r\nWhen Hase-Hime was thirteen years of age, she had already become\r\nmentioned as a poetess of some merit. This was an accomplishment very\r\nmuch cultivated by the women of old Japan and one held in high esteem.\r\n\r\nIt was the rainy season at Nara, and floods were reported every day as\r\ndoing damage in the neighborhood. The river Tatsuta, which flowed\r\nthrough the Imperial Palace grounds, was swollen to the top of its\r\nbanks, and the roaring of the torrents of water rushing along a narrow\r\nbed so disturbed the Emperor's rest day and night, that a serious\r\nnervous disorder was the result. An Imperial Edict was sent forth to\r\nall the Buddhist temples commanding the priests to offer up continuous\r\nprayers to Heaven to stop the noise of the flood. But this was of no\r\navail.\r\n\r\nThen it was whispered in Court circles that the Princess Hase, the\r\ndaughter of Prince Toyonari Fujiwara, second minister at Court, was the\r\nmost gifted poetess of the day, though still so young, and her masters\r\nconfirmed the report. Long ago, a beautiful and gifted maiden-poetess\r\nhad moved Heaven by praying in verse, had brought down rain upon a land\r\nfamished with drought--so said the ancient biographers of the poetess\r\nOno-no-Komachi. If the Princess Hase were to write a poem and offer it\r\nin prayer, might it not stop the noise of the rushing river and remove\r\nthe cause of the Imperial illness? What the Court said at last reached\r\nthe ears of the Emperor himself, and he sent an order to the minister\r\nPrince Toyonari to this effect.\r\n\r\nGreat indeed was Hase-Hime's fear and astonishment when her father sent\r\nfor her and told her what was required of her. Heavy, indeed, was the\r\nduty that was laid on her young shoulders--that of saving the Emperor's\r\nlife by the merit of her verse.\r\n\r\nAt last the day came and her poem was finished. It was written on a\r\nleaflet of paper heavily flecked with gold-dust. With her father and\r\nattendants and some of the Court officials, she proceeded to the bank\r\nof the roaring torrent and raising up her heart to Heaven, she read the\r\npoem she had composed, aloud, lifting it heavenwards in her two hands.\r\n\r\nStrange indeed it seemed to all those standing round. The waters ceased\r\ntheir roaring, and the river was quiet in direct answer to her prayer.\r\nAfter this the Emperor soon recovered his health.\r\n\r\nHis Majesty was highly pleased, and sent for her to the Palace and\r\nrewarded her with the rank of Chinjo--that of Lieutenant-General--to\r\ndistinguish her. From that time she was called Chinjo-hime, or the\r\nLieutenant-General Princess, and respected and loved by all.\r\n\r\nThere was only one person who was not pleased at Hase-Hime's success.\r\nThat one was her stepmother. Forever brooding over the death of her own\r\nchild whom she had killed when trying to poison her step-daughter, she\r\nhad the mortification of seeing her rise to power and honor, marked by\r\nImperial favor and the admiration of the whole Court. Her envy and\r\njealousy burned in her heart like fire. Many were the lies she carried\r\nto her husband about Hase-Hime, but all to no purpose. He would listen\r\nto none of her tales, telling her sharply that she was quite mistaken.\r\n\r\nAt last the step-mother, seizing the opportunity of her husband's\r\nabsence, ordered one of her old servants to take the innocent girl to\r\nthe Hibari Mountains, the wildest part of the country, and to kill her\r\nthere. She invented a dreadful story about the little Princess, saying\r\nthat this was the only way to prevent disgrace falling upon the\r\nfamily--by killing her.\r\n\r\nKatoda, her vassal, was bound to obey his mistress. Anyhow, he saw that\r\nit would be the wisest plan to pretend obedience in the absence of the\r\ngirl's father, so he placed Hase-Hime in a palanquin and accompanied\r\nher to the most solitary place he could find in the wild district. The\r\npoor child knew there was no good in protesting to her unkind\r\nstep-mother at being sent away in this strange manner, so she went as\r\nshe was told.\r\n\r\nBut the old servant knew that the young Princess was quite innocent of\r\nall the things her step-mother had invented to him as reasons for her\r\noutrageous orders, and he determined to save her life. Unless he killed\r\nher, however, he could not return to his cruel task-mistress, so he\r\ndecided to stay out in the wilderness. With the help of some peasants\r\nhe soon built a little cottage, and having sent secretly for his wife\r\nto come, these two good old people did all in their power to take care\r\nof the now unfortunate Princess. She all the time trusted in her\r\nfather, knowing that as soon as he returned home and found her absent,\r\nhe would search for her.\r\n\r\nPrince Toyonari, after some weeks, came home, and was told by his wife\r\nthat his daughter Hime had done something wrong and had run away for\r\nfear of being punished. He was nearly ill with anxiety. Every one in\r\nthe house told the same story--that Hase-Hime had suddenly disappeared,\r\nnone of them knew why or whither. For fear of scandal he kept the\r\nmatter quiet and searched everywhere he could think of, but all to no\r\npurpose.\r\n\r\nOne day, trying to forget his terrible worry, he called all his men\r\ntogether and told them to make ready for a several days' hunt in the\r\nmountains. They were soon ready and mounted, waiting at the gate for\r\ntheir lord. He rode hard and fast to the district of the Hibari\r\nMountains, a great company following him. He was soon far ahead of\r\nevery one, and at last found himself in a narrow picturesque valley.\r\n\r\nLooking round and admiring the scenery, he noticed a tiny house on one\r\nof the hills quite near, and then he distinctly heard a beautiful clear\r\nvoice reading aloud. Seized with curiosity as to who could be studying\r\nso diligently in such a lonely spot, he dismounted, and leaving his\r\nhorse to his groom, he walked up the hillside and approached the\r\ncottage. As he drew nearer his surprise increased, for he could see\r\nthat the reader was a beautiful girl. The cottage was wide open and she\r\nwas sitting facing the view. Listening attentively, he heard her\r\nreading the Buddhist scriptures with great devotion. More and more\r\ncurious, he hurried on to the tiny gate and entered the little garden,\r\nand looking up beheld his lost daughter Hase-Hime. She was so intent on\r\nwhat she was saying that she neither heard nor saw her father till he\r\nspoke.\r\n\r\n\"Hase-Hime!\" he cried, \"it is you, my Hase-Hime!\"\r\n\r\nTaken by surprise, she could hardly realize that it was her own dear\r\nfather who was calling her, and for a moment she was utterly bereft of\r\nthe power to speak or move.\r\n\r\n\"My father, my father! It is indeed you--oh, my father!\" was all she\r\ncould say, and running to him she caught hold of his thick sleeve, and\r\nburying her face burst into a passion of tears.\r\n\r\nHer father stroked her dark hair, asking her gently to tell him all\r\nthat had happened, but she only wept on, and he wondered if he were not\r\nreally dreaming.\r\n\r\nThen the faithful old servant Katoda came out, and bowing himself to\r\nthe ground before his master, poured out the long tale of wrong,\r\ntelling him all that had happened, and how it was that he found his\r\ndaughter in such a wild and desolate spot with only two old servants to\r\ntake care of her.\r\n\r\nThe Prince's astonishment and indignation knew no bounds. He gave up\r\nthe hunt at once and hurried home with his daughter. One of the company\r\ngalloped ahead to inform the household of the glad news, and the\r\nstep-mother hearing what had happened, and fearful of meeting her\r\nhusband now that her wickedness was discovered, fled from the house and\r\nreturned in disgrace to her father's roof, and nothing more was heard\r\nof her.\r\n\r\nThe old servant Katoda was rewarded with the highest promotion in his\r\nmaster's service, and lived happily to the end of his days, devoted to\r\nthe little Princess, who never forgot that she owed her life to this\r\nfaithful retainer. She was no longer troubled by an unkind step-mother,\r\nand her days passed happily and quietly with her father.\r\n\r\nAs Prince Toyonari had no son, he adopted a younger son of one of the\r\nCourt nobles to be his heir, and to marry his daughter Hase-Hime, and\r\nin a few years the marriage took place. Hase-Hime lived to a good old\r\nage, and all said that she was the wisest, most devout, and most\r\nbeautiful mistress that had ever reigned in Prince Toyonari's ancient\r\nhouse. She had the joy of presenting her son, the future lord of the\r\nfamily, to her father just before he retired from active life.\r\n\r\nTo this day there is preserved a piece of needle-work in one of the\r\nBuddhist temples of Kioto. It is a beautiful piece of tapestry, with\r\nthe figure of Buddha embroidered in the silky threads drawn from the\r\nstem of the lotus. This is said to have been the work of the hands of\r\nthe good Princess Hase.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE STORY OF THE MAN WHO DID NOT WISH TO DIE.\r\n\r\n\r\nLong, long ago there lived a man called Sentaro. His surname meant\r\n\"Millionaire,\" but although he was not so rich as all that, he was\r\nstill very far removed from being poor. He had inherited a small\r\nfortune from his father and lived on this, spending his time\r\ncarelessly, without any serious thoughts of work, till he was about\r\nthirty-two years of age.\r\n\r\nOne day, without any reason whatsoever, the thought of death and\r\nsickness came to him. The idea of falling ill or dying made him very\r\nwretched.\r\n\r\n\"I should like to live,\" he said to himself, \"till I am five or six\r\nhundred years old at least, free from all sickness. The ordinary span\r\nof a man's life is very short.\"\r\n\r\nHe wondered whether it were possible, by living simply and frugally\r\nhenceforth, to prolong his life as long as he wished.\r\n\r\nHe knew there were many stories in ancient history of emperors who had\r\nlived a thousand years, and there was a Princess of Yamato, who, it was\r\nsaid, lived to the age of five hundred. This was the latest story of a\r\nvery long life record.\r\n\r\nSentaro had often heard the tale of the Chinese King named\r\nShin-no-Shiko. He was one of the most able and powerful rulers in\r\nChinese history. He built all the large palaces, and also the famous\r\ngreat wall of China. He had everything in the world he could wish for,\r\nbut in spite of all his happiness and the luxury and the splendor of\r\nhis Court, the wisdom of his councilors and the glory of his reign, he\r\nwas miserable because he knew that one day he must die and leave it all.\r\n\r\nWhen Shin-no-Shiko went to bed at night, when he rose in the morning,\r\nas he went through his day, the thought of death was always with him.\r\nHe could not get away from it. Ah--if only he could find the \"Elixir of\r\nLife,\" he would be happy.\r\n\r\nThe Emperor at last called a meeting of his courtiers and asked them\r\nall if they could not find for him the \"Elixir of Life\" of which he had\r\nso often read and heard.\r\n\r\nOne old courtier, Jofuku by name, said that far away across the seas\r\nthere was a country called Horaizan, and that certain hermits lived\r\nthere who possessed the secret of the \"Elixir of Life.\" Whoever drank\r\nof this wonderful draught lived forever.\r\n\r\nThe Emperor ordered Jofuku to set out for the land of Horaizan, to find\r\nthe hermits, and to bring him back a phial of the magic elixir. He gave\r\nJofuku one of his best junks, fitted it out for him, and loaded it with\r\ngreat quantities of treasures and precious stones for Jofuku to take as\r\npresents to the hermits.\r\n\r\nJofuku sailed for the land of Horaizan, but he never returned to the\r\nwaiting Emperor; but ever since that time Mount Fuji has been said to\r\nbe the fabled Horaizan and the home of hermits who had the secret of\r\nthe elixir, and Jofuku has been worshiped as their patron god.\r\n\r\nNow Sentaro determined to set out to find the hermits, and if he could,\r\nto become one, so that he might obtain the water of perpetual life. He\r\nremembered that as a child he had been told that not only did these\r\nhermits live on Mount Fuji, but that they were said to inhabit all the\r\nvery high peaks.\r\n\r\nSo he left his old home to the care of his relatives, and started out\r\non his quest. He traveled through all the mountainous regions of the\r\nland, climbing to the tops of the highest peaks, but never a hermit did\r\nhe find.\r\n\r\nAt last, after wandering in an unknown region for many days, he met a\r\nhunter.\r\n\r\n\"Can you tell me,\" asked Sentaro, \"where the hermits live who have the\r\nElixir of Life?\"\r\n\r\n\"No.\" said the hunter; \"I can't tell you where such hermits live, but\r\nthere is a notorious robber living in these parts. It is said that he\r\nis chief of a band of two hundred followers.\"\r\n\r\nThis odd answer irritated Sentaro very much, and he thought how foolish\r\nit was to waste more time in looking for the hermits in this way, so he\r\ndecided to go at once to the shrine of Jofuku, who is worshiped as the\r\npatron god of the hermits in the south of Japan.\r\n\r\nSentaro reached the shrine and prayed for seven days, entreating Jofuku\r\nto show him the way to a hermit who could give him what he wanted so\r\nmuch to find.\r\n\r\nAt midnight of the seventh day, as Sentaro knelt in the temple, the\r\ndoor of the innermost shrine flew open, and Jofuku appeared in a\r\nluminous cloud, and calling to Sentaro to come nearer, spoke thus:\r\n\r\n\"Your desire is a very selfish one and cannot be easily granted. You\r\nthink that you would like to become a hermit so as to find the Elixir\r\nof Life. Do you know how hard a hermit's life is? A hermit is only\r\nallowed to eat fruit and berries and the bark of pine trees; a hermit\r\nmust cut himself off from the world so that his heart may become as\r\npure as gold and free from every earthly desire. Gradually after\r\nfollowing these strict rules, the hermit ceases to feel hunger or cold\r\nor heat, and his body becomes so light that he can ride on a crane or a\r\ncarp, and can walk on water without getting his feet wet.\"\r\n\r\n\"You, Sentaro, are fond of good living and of every comfort. You are\r\nnot even like an ordinary man, for you are exceptionally idle, and more\r\nsensitive to heat and cold than most people. You would never be able to\r\ngo barefoot or to wear only one thin dress in the winter time! Do you\r\nthink that you would ever have the patience or the endurance to live a\r\nhermit's life?\"\r\n\r\n\"In answer to your prayer, however, I will help you in another way. I\r\nwill send you to the country of Perpetual Life, where death never\r\ncomes--where the people live forever!\"\r\n\r\nSaying this, Jofuku put into Sentaro's hand a little crane made of\r\npaper, telling him to sit on its back and it would carry him there.\r\n\r\nSentaro obeyed wonderingly. The crane grew large enough for him to ride\r\non it with comfort. It then spread its wings, rose high in the air, and\r\nflew away over the mountains right out to sea.\r\n\r\nSentaro was at first quite frightened; but by degrees he grew\r\naccustomed to the swift flight through the air. On and on they went for\r\nthousands of miles. The bird never stopped for rest or food, but as it\r\nwas a paper bird it doubtless did not require any nourishment, and\r\nstrange to say, neither did Sentaro.\r\n\r\nAfter several days they reached an island. The crane flew some distance\r\ninland and then alighted.\r\n\r\nAs soon as Sentaro got down from the bird's back, the crane folded up\r\nof its own accord and flew into his pocket.\r\n\r\nNow Sentaro began to look about him wonderingly, curious to see what\r\nthe country of Perpetual Life was like. He walked first round about the\r\ncountry and then through the town. Everything was, of course, quite\r\nstrange, and different from his own land. But both the land and the\r\npeople seemed prosperous, so he decided that it would be good for him\r\nto stay there and took up lodgings at one of the hotels.\r\n\r\nThe proprietor was a kind man, and when Sentaro told him that he was a\r\nstranger and had come to live there, he promised to arrange everything\r\nthat was necessary with the governor of the city concerning Sentaro's\r\nsojourn there. He even found a house for his guest, and in this way\r\nSentaro obtained his great wish and became a resident in the country of\r\nPerpetual Life.\r\n\r\nWithin the memory of all the islanders no man had ever died there, and\r\nsickness was a thing unknown. Priests had come over from India and\r\nChina and told them of a beautiful country called Paradise, where\r\nhappiness and bliss and contentment fill all men's hearts, but its\r\ngates could only be reached by dying. This tradition was handed down\r\nfor ages from generation to generation--but none knew exactly what\r\ndeath was except that it led to Paradise.\r\n\r\nQuite unlike Sentaro and other ordinary people, instead of having a\r\ngreat dread of death, they all, both rich and poor, longed for it as\r\nsomething good and desirable. They were all tired of their long, long\r\nlives, and longed to go to the happy land of contentment called\r\nParadise of which the priests had told them centuries ago.\r\n\r\nAll this Sentaro soon found out by talking to the islanders. He found\r\nhimself, according to his ideas, in the land of Topsyturvydom.\r\nEverything was upside down. He had wished to escape from dying. He had\r\ncome to the land of Perpetual Life with great relief and joy, only to\r\nfind that the inhabitants themselves, doomed never to die, would\r\nconsider it bliss to find death.\r\n\r\nWhat he had hitherto considered poison these people ate as good food,\r\nand all the things to which he had been accustomed as food they\r\nrejected. Whenever any merchants from other countries arrived, the rich\r\npeople rushed to them eager to buy poisons. These they swallowed\r\neagerly, hoping for death to come so that they might go to Paradise.\r\n\r\nBut what were deadly poisons in other lands were without effect in this\r\nstrange place, and people who swallowed them with the hope of dying,\r\nonly found that in a short time they felt better in health instead of\r\nworse.\r\n\r\nVainly they tried to imagine what death could be like. The wealthy\r\nwould have given all their money and all their goods if they could but\r\nshorten their lives to two or three hundred years even. Without any\r\nchange to live on forever seemed to this people wearisome and sad.\r\n\r\nIn the chemist shops there was a drug which was in constant demand,\r\nbecause after using it for a hundred years, it was supposed to turn the\r\nhair slightly gray and to bring about disorders of the stomach.\r\n\r\nSentaro was astonished to find that the poisonous globe-fish was served\r\nup in restaurants as a delectable dish, and hawkers in the streets went\r\nabout selling sauces made of Spanish flies. He never saw any one ill\r\nafter eating these horrible things, nor did he ever see any one with as\r\nmuch as a cold.\r\n\r\nSentaro was delighted. He said to himself that he would never grow\r\ntired of living, and that he considered it profane to wish for death.\r\nHe was the only happy man on the island. For his part he wished to live\r\nthousands of years and to enjoy life. He set himself up in business,\r\nand for the present never even dreamed of going back to his native land.\r\n\r\nAs years went by, however, things did not go as smoothly as at first.\r\nHe had heavy losses in business, and several times some affairs went\r\nwrong with his neighbors. This caused him great annoyance.\r\n\r\nTime passed like the flight of an arrow for him, for he was busy from\r\nmorning till night. Three hundred years went by in this monotonous way,\r\nand then at last he began to grow tired of life in this country, and he\r\nlonged to see his own land and his old home. However long he lived\r\nhere, life would always be the same, so was it not foolish and\r\nwearisome to stay on here forever?\r\n\r\nSentaro, in his wish to escape from the country of Perpetual Life,\r\nrecollected Jofuku, who had helped him before when he was wishing to\r\nescape from death--and he prayed to the saint to bring him back to his\r\nown land again.\r\n\r\nNo sooner did he pray than the paper crane popped out of his pocket.\r\nSentaro was amazed to see that it had remained undamaged after all\r\nthese years. Once more the bird grew and grew till it was large enough\r\nfor him to mount it. As he did so, the bird spread its wings and flew,\r\nswiftly out across the sea in the direction of Japan.\r\n\r\nSuch was the willfulness of the man's nature that he looked back and\r\nregretted all he had left behind. He tried to stop the bird in vain.\r\nThe crane held on its way for thousands of miles across the ocean.\r\n\r\nThen a storm came on, and the wonderful paper crane got damp, crumpled\r\nup, and fell into the sea. Sentaro fell with it. Very much frightened\r\nat the thought of being drowned, he cried out loudly to Jofuku to save\r\nhim. He looked round, but there was no ship in sight. He swallowed a\r\nquantity of sea-water, which only increased his miserable plight. While\r\nhe was thus struggling to keep himself afloat, he saw a monstrous shark\r\nswimming towards him. As it came nearer it opened its huge mouth ready\r\nto devour him. Sentaro was all but paralyzed with fear now that he felt\r\nhis end so near, and screamed out as loudly as ever he could to Jofuku\r\nto come and rescue him.\r\n\r\nLo, and behold, Sentaro was awakened by his own screams, to find that\r\nduring his long prayer he had fallen asleep before the shrine, and that\r\nall his extraordinary and frightful adventures had been only a wild\r\ndream. He was in a cold perspiration with fright, and utterly\r\nbewildered.\r\n\r\nSuddenly a bright light came towards him, and in the light stood a\r\nmessenger. The messenger held a book in his hand, and spoke to Sentaro:\r\n\r\n\"I am sent to you by Jofuku, who in answer to your prayer, has\r\npermitted you in a dream to see the land of Perpetual Life. But you\r\ngrew weary of living there, and begged to be allowed to return to your\r\nnative land so that you might die. Jofuku, so that he might try you,\r\nallowed you to drop into the sea, and then sent a shark to swallow you\r\nup. Your desire for death was not real, for even at that moment you\r\ncried out loudly and shouted for help.\"\r\n\r\n\"It is also vain for you to wish to become a hermit, or to find the\r\nElixir of Life. These things are not for such as you--your life is not\r\naustere enough. It is best for you to go back to your paternal home,\r\nand to live a good and industrious life. Never neglect to keep the\r\nanniversaries of your ancestors, and make it your duty to provide for\r\nyour children's future. Thus will you live to a good old age and be\r\nhappy, but give up the vain desire to escape death, for no man can do\r\nthat, and by this time you have surely found out that even when selfish\r\ndesires are granted they do not bring happiness.\"\r\n\r\n\"In this book I give you there are many precepts good for you to\r\nknow--if you study them, you will be guided in the way I have pointed\r\nout to you.\"\r\n\r\nThe angel disappeared as soon as he had finished speaking, and Sentaro\r\ntook the lesson to heart. With the book in his hand he returned to his\r\nold home, and giving up all his old vain wishes, tried to live a good\r\nand useful life and to observe the lessons taught him in the book, and\r\nhe and his house prospered henceforth.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE BAMBOO-CUTTER AND THE MOON-CHILD.\r\n\r\n\r\nLong, long ago, there lived an old bamboo wood-cutter. He was very poor\r\nand sad also, for no child had Heaven sent to cheer his old age, and in\r\nhis heart there was no hope of rest from work till he died and was laid\r\nin the quiet grave. Every morning he went forth into the woods and\r\nhills wherever the bamboo reared its lithe green plumes against the\r\nsky. When he had made his choice, he would cut down these feathers of\r\nthe forest, and splitting them lengthwise, or cutting them into joints,\r\nwould carry the bamboo wood home and make it into various articles for\r\nthe household, and he and his old wife gained a small livelihood by\r\nselling them.\r\n\r\nOne morning as usual he had gone out to his work, and having found a\r\nnice clump of bamboos, had set to work to cut some of them down.\r\nSuddenly the green grove of bamboos was flooded with a bright soft\r\nlight, as if the full moon had risen over the spot. Looking round in\r\nastonishment, he saw that the brilliance was streaming from one bamboo.\r\nThe old man, full of wonder, dropped his ax and went towards the light.\r\nOn nearer approach he saw that this soft splendor came from a hollow in\r\nthe green bamboo stem, and still more wonderful to behold, in the midst\r\nof the brilliance stood a tiny human being, only three inches in\r\nheight, and exquisitely beautiful in appearance.\r\n\r\n\"You must be sent to be my child, for I find you here among the bamboos\r\nwhere lies my daily work,\" said the old man, and taking the little\r\ncreature in his hand he took it home to his wife to bring up. The tiny\r\ngirl was so exceedingly beautiful and so small, that the old woman put\r\nher into a basket to safeguard her from the least possibility of being\r\nhurt in any way.\r\n\r\nThe old couple were now very happy, for it had been a lifelong regret\r\nthat they had no children of their own, and with joy they now expended\r\nall the love of their old age on the little child who had come to them\r\nin so marvelous a manner.\r\n\r\nFrom this time on, the old man often found gold in the notches of the\r\nbamboos when he hewed them down and cut them up; not only gold, but\r\nprecious stones also, so that by degrees he became rich. He built\r\nhimself a fine house, and was no longer known as the poor bamboo\r\nwoodcutter, but as a wealthy man.\r\n\r\nThree months passed quickly away, and in that time the bamboo child\r\nhad, wonderful to say, become a full-grown girl, so her foster-parents\r\ndid up her hair and dressed her in beautiful kimonos. She was of such\r\nwondrous beauty that they placed her behind the screens like a\r\nprincess, and allowed no one to see her, waiting upon her themselves.\r\nIt seemed as if she were made of light, for the house was filled with a\r\nsoft shining, so that even in the dark of night it was like daytime.\r\nHer presence seemed to have a benign influence on those there. Whenever\r\nthe old man felt sad, he had only to look upon his foster-daughter and\r\nhis sorrow vanished, and he became as happy as when he was a youth.\r\n\r\nAt last the day came for the naming of their new-found child, so the\r\nold couple called in a celebrated name-giver, and he gave her the name\r\nof Princess Moonlight, because her body gave forth so much soft bright\r\nlight that she might have been a daughter of the Moon God.\r\n\r\nFor three days the festival was kept up with song and dance and music.\r\nAll the friends and relations of the old couple were present, and great\r\nwas their enjoyment of the festivities held to celebrate the naming of\r\nPrincess Moonlight. Everyone who saw her declared that there never had\r\nbeen seen any one so lovely; all the beauties throughout the length and\r\nbreadth of the land would grow pale beside her, so they said. The fame\r\nof the Princess's loveliness spread far and wide, and many were the\r\nsuitors who desired to win her hand, or even so much as to see her.\r\n\r\nSuitors from far and near posted themselves outside the house, and made\r\nlittle holes in the fence, in the hope of catching a glimpse of the\r\nPrincess as she went from one room to the other along the veranda. They\r\nstayed there day and night, sacrificing even their sleep for a chance\r\nof seeing her, but all in vain. Then they approached the house, and\r\ntried to speak to the old man and his wife or some of the servants, but\r\nnot even this was granted them.\r\n\r\nStill, in spite of all this disappointment they stayed on day after\r\nday, and night after night, and counted it as nothing, so great was\r\ntheir desire to see the Princess.\r\n\r\nAt last, however, most of the men, seeing how hopeless their quest was,\r\nlost heart and hope both, and returned to their homes. All except five\r\nKnights, whose ardor and determination, instead of waning, seemed to\r\nwax greater with obstacles. These five men even went without their\r\nmeals, and took snatches of whatever they could get brought to them, so\r\nthat they might always stand outside the dwelling. They stood there in\r\nall weathers, in sunshine and in rain.\r\n\r\nSometimes they wrote letters to the Princess, but no answer was\r\nvouchsafed to them. Then when letters failed to draw any reply, they\r\nwrote poems to her telling her of the hopeless love which kept them\r\nfrom sleep, from food, from rest, and even from their homes. Still\r\nPrinces Moonlight gave no sign of having received their verses.\r\n\r\nIn this hopeless state the winter passed. The snow and frost and the\r\ncold winds gradually gave place to the gentle warmth of spring. Then\r\nthe summer came, and the sun burned white and scorching in the heavens\r\nabove and on the earth beneath, and still these faithful Knights kept\r\nwatch and waited. At the end of these long months they called out to\r\nthe old bamboo-cutter and entreated him to have some mercy upon them\r\nand to show them the Princess, but he answered only that as he was not\r\nher real father he could not insist on her obeying him against her\r\nwishes.\r\n\r\nThe five Knights on receiving this stern answer returned to their\r\nseveral homes, and pondered over the best means of touching the proud\r\nPrincess's heart, even so much as to grant them a hearing. They took\r\ntheir rosaries in hand and knelt before their household shrines, and\r\nburned precious incense, praying to Buddha to give them their heart's\r\ndesire. Thus several days passed, but even so they could not rest in\r\ntheir homes.\r\n\r\nSo again they set out for the bamboo-cutter's house. This time the old\r\nman came out to see them, and they asked him to let them know if it was\r\nthe Princess's resolution never to see any man whatsoever, and they\r\nimplored him to speak for them and to tell her the greatness of their\r\nlove, and how long they had waited through the cold of winter and the\r\nheat of summer, sleepless and roofless through all weathers, without\r\nfood and without rest, in the ardent hope of winning her, and they were\r\nwilling to consider this long vigil as pleasure if she would but give\r\nthem one chance of pleading their cause with her.\r\n\r\nThe old man lent a willing ear to their tale of love, for in his inmost\r\nheart he felt sorry for these faithful suitors and would have liked to\r\nsee his lovely foster-daughter married to one of them. So he went in to\r\nPrincess Moonlight and said reverently:\r\n\r\n\"Although you have always seemed to me to be a heavenly being, yet I\r\nhave had the trouble of bringing you up as my own child and you have\r\nbeen glad of the protection of my roof. Will you refuse to do as I\r\nwish?\"\r\n\r\nThen Princess Moonlight replied that there was nothing she would not do\r\nfor him, that she honored and loved him as her own father, and that as\r\nfor herself she could not remember the time before she came to earth.\r\n\r\nThe old man listened with great joy as she spoke these dutiful words.\r\nThen he told her how anxious he was to see her safely and happily\r\nmarried before he died.\r\n\r\n\"I am an old man, over seventy years of age, and my end may come any\r\ntime now. It is necessary and right that you should see these five\r\nsuitors and choose one of them.\"\r\n\r\n\"Oh, why,\" said the Princess in distress, \"must I do this? I have no\r\nwish to marry now.\"\r\n\r\n\"I found you,\" answered the old man, \"many years ago, when you were a\r\nlittle creature three inches high, in the midst of a great white light.\r\nThe light streamed from the bamboo in which you were hid and led me to\r\nyou. So I have always thought that you were more than mortal woman.\r\nWhile I am alive it is right for you to remain as you are if you wish\r\nto do so, but some day I shall cease to be and who will take care of\r\nyou then? Therefore I pray you to meet these five brave men one at a\r\ntime and make up your mind to marry one of them!\"\r\n\r\nThen the Princess answered that she felt sure that she was not as\r\nbeautiful as perhaps report made her out to be, and that even if she\r\nconsented to marry any one of them, not really knowing her before, his\r\nheart might change afterwards. So as she did not feel sure of them,\r\neven though her father told her they were worthy Knights, she did not\r\nfeel it wise to see them.\r\n\r\n\"All you say is very reasonable,\" said the old man, \"but what kind of\r\nmen will you consent to see? I do not call these five men who have\r\nwaited on you for months, light-hearted. They have stood outside this\r\nhouse through the winter and the summer, often denying themselves food\r\nand sleep so that they may win you. What more can you demand?\"\r\n\r\nThen Princess Moonlight said she must make further trial of their love\r\nbefore she would grant their request to interview her. The five\r\nwarriors were to prove their love by each bringing her from distant\r\ncountries something that she desired to possess.\r\n\r\nThat same evening the suitors arrived and began to play their flutes in\r\nturn, and to sing their self-composed songs telling of their great and\r\ntireless love. The bamboo-cutter went out to them and offered them his\r\nsympathy for all they had endured and all the patience they had shown\r\nin their desire to win his foster-daughter. Then he gave them her\r\nmessage, that she would consent to marry whosoever was successful in\r\nbringing her what she wanted. This was to test them.\r\n\r\nThe five all accepted the trial, and thought it an excellent plan, for\r\nit would prevent jealousy between them.\r\n\r\nPrincess Moonlight then sent word to the First Knight that she\r\nrequested him to bring her the stone bowl which had belonged to Buddha\r\nin India.\r\n\r\nThe Second Knight was asked to go to the Mountain of Horai, said to be\r\nsituated in the Eastern Sea, and to bring her a branch of the wonderful\r\ntree that grew on its summit. The roots of this tree were of silver,\r\nthe trunk of gold, and the branches bore as fruit white jewels.\r\n\r\nThe Third Knight was told to go to China and search for the fire-rat\r\nand to bring her its skin.\r\n\r\nThe Fourth Knight was told to search for the dragon that carried on its\r\nhead the stone radiating five colors and to bring the stone to her.\r\n\r\nThe Fifth Knight was to find the swallow which carried a shell in its\r\nstomach and to bring the shell to her.\r\n\r\nThe old man thought these very hard tasks and hesitated to carry the\r\nmessages, but the Princess would make no other conditions. So her\r\ncommands were issued word for word to the five men who, when they heard\r\nwhat was required of them, were all disheartened and disgusted at what\r\nseemed to them the impossibility of the tasks given them and returned\r\nto their own homes in despair.\r\n\r\nBut after a time, when they thought of the Princess, the love in their\r\nhearts revived for her, and they resolved to make an attempt to get\r\nwhat she desired of them.\r\n\r\nThe First Knight sent word to the Princess that he was starting out\r\nthat day on the quest of Buddha's bowl, and he hoped soon to bring it\r\nto her. But he had not the courage to go all the way to India, for in\r\nthose days traveling was very difficult and full of danger, so he went\r\nto one of the temples in Kyoto and took a stone bowl from the altar\r\nthere, paying the priest a large sum of money for it. He then wrapped\r\nit in a cloth of gold and, waiting quietly for three years, returned\r\nand carried it to the old man.\r\n\r\nPrincess Moonlight wondered that the Knight should have returned so\r\nsoon. She took the bowl from its gold wrapping, expecting it to make\r\nthe room full of light, but it did not shine at all, so she knew that\r\nit was a sham thing and not the true bowl of Buddha. She returned it at\r\nonce and refused to see him. The Knight threw the bowl away and\r\nreturned to his home in despair. He gave up now all hopes of ever\r\nwinning the Princess.\r\n\r\nThe Second Knight told his parents that he needed change of air for his\r\nhealth, for he was ashamed to tell them that love for the Princess\r\nMoonlight was the real cause of his leaving them. He then left his\r\nhome, at the same time sending word to the Princess that he was setting\r\nout for Mount Horai in the hope of getting her a branch of the gold and\r\nsilver tree which she so much wished to have. He only allowed his\r\nservants to accompany him half-way, and then sent them back. He reached\r\nthe seashore and embarked on a small ship, and after sailing away for\r\nthree days he landed and employed several carpenters to build him a\r\nhouse contrived in such a way that no one could get access to it. He\r\nthen shut himself up with six skilled jewelers, and endeavored to make\r\nsuch a gold and silver branch as he thought would satisfy the Princess\r\nas having come from the wonderful tree growing on Mount Horai. Every\r\none whom he had asked declared that Mount Horai belonged to the land of\r\nfable and not to fact.\r\n\r\nWhen the branch was finished, he took his journey home and tried to\r\nmake himself look as if he were wearied and worn out with travel. He\r\nput the jeweled branch into a lacquer box and carried it to the\r\nbamboo-cutter, begging him to present it to the Princess.\r\n\r\nThe old man was quite deceived by the travel-stained appearance of the\r\nKnight, and thought that he had only just returned from his long\r\njourney with the branch. So he tried to persuade the Princess to\r\nconsent to see the man. But she remained silent and looked very sad.\r\nThe old man began to take out the branch and praised it as a wonderful\r\ntreasure to be found nowhere in the whole land. Then he spoke of the\r\nKnight, how handsome and how brave he was to have undertaken a journey\r\nto so remote a place as the Mount of Horai.\r\n\r\nPrincess Moonlight took the branch in her hand and looked at it\r\ncarefully. She then told her foster-parent that she knew it was\r\nimpossible for the man to have obtained a branch from the gold and\r\nsilver tree growing on Mount Horai so quickly or so easily, and she was\r\nsorry to say she believed it artificial.\r\n\r\nThe old man then went out to the expectant Knight, who had now\r\napproached the house, and asked where he had found the branch. Then the\r\nman did not scruple to make up a long story.\r\n\r\n\"Two years ago I took a ship and started in search of Mount Horai.\r\nAfter going before the wind for some time I reached the far Eastern\r\nSea. Then a great storm arose and I was tossed about for many days,\r\nlosing all count of the points of the compass, and finally we were\r\nblown ashore on an unknown island. Here I found the place inhabited by\r\ndemons who at one time threatened to kill and eat me. However, I\r\nmanaged to make friends with these horrible creatures, and they helped\r\nme and my sailors to repair the boat, and I set sail again. Our food\r\ngave out, and we suffered much from sickness on board. At last, on the\r\nfive-hundredth day from the day of starting, I saw far off on the\r\nhorizon what looked like the peak of a mountain. On nearer approach,\r\nthis proved to be an island, in the center of which rose a high\r\nmountain. I landed, and after wandering about for two or three days, I\r\nsaw a shining being coming towards me on the beach, holding in his\r\nhands a golden bowl. I went up to him and asked him if I had, by good\r\nchance, found the island of Mount Horai, and he answered:\"\r\n\r\n\"'Yes, this is Mount Horai!'\"\r\n\r\n\"With much difficulty I climbed to the summit, here stood the golden\r\ntree growing with silver roots in the ground. The wonders of that\r\nstrange land are many, and if I began to tell you about them I could\r\nnever stop. In spite of my wish to stay there long, on breaking off the\r\nbranch I hurried back. With utmost speed it has taken me four hundred\r\ndays to get back, and, as you see, my clothes are still damp from\r\nexposure on the long sea voyage. I have not even waited to change my\r\nraiment, so anxious was I to bring the branch to the Princess quickly.\"\r\n\r\nJust at this moment the six jewelers, who had been employed on the\r\nmaking of the branch, but not yet paid by the Knight, arrived at the\r\nhouse and sent in a petition to the Princess to be paid for their\r\nlabor. They said that they had worked for over a thousand days making\r\nthe branch of gold, with its silver twigs and its jeweled fruit, that\r\nwas now presented to her by the Knight, but as yet they had received\r\nnothing in payment. So this Knight's deception was thus found out, and\r\nthe Princess, glad of an escape from one more importunate suitor, was\r\nonly too pleased to send back the branch. She called in the workmen and\r\nhad them paid liberally, and they went away happy. But on the way home\r\nthey were overtaken by the disappointed man, who beat them till they\r\nwere nearly dead, for letting out the secret, and they barely escaped\r\nwith their lives. The Knight then returned home, raging in his heart;\r\nand in despair of ever winning the Princess gave up society and retired\r\nto a solitary life among the mountains.\r\n\r\nNow the Third Knight had a friend in China, so he wrote to him to get\r\nthe skin of the fire-rat. The virtue of any part of this animal was\r\nthat no fire could harm it. He promised his friend any amount of money\r\nhe liked to ask if only he could get him the desired article. As soon\r\nas the news came that the ship on which his friend had sailed home had\r\ncome into port, he rode seven days on horseback to meet him. He handed\r\nhis friend a large sum of money, and received the fire-rat's skin. When\r\nhe reached home he put it carefully in a box and sent it in to the\r\nPrincess while he waited outside for her answer.\r\n\r\nThe bamboo-cutter took the box from the Knight and, as usual, carried\r\nit in to her and tried to coax her to see the Knight at once, but\r\nPrincess Moonlight refused, saying that she must first put the skin to\r\ntest by putting it into the fire. If it were the real thing it would\r\nnot burn. So she took off the crape wrapper and opened the box, and\r\nthen threw the skin into the fire. The skin crackled and burnt up at\r\nonce, and the Princess knew that this man also had not fulfilled his\r\nword. So the Third Knight failed also.\r\n\r\nNow the Fourth Knight was no more enterprising than the rest. Instead\r\nof starting out on the quest of the dragon bearing on its head the\r\nfive-color-radiating jewel, he called all his servants together and\r\ngave them the order to seek for it far and wide in Japan and in China,\r\nand he strictly forbade any of them to return till they had found it.\r\n\r\nHis numerous retainers and servants started out in different\r\ndirections, with no intention, however, of obeying what they considered\r\nan impossible order. They simply took a holiday, went to pleasant\r\ncountry places together, and grumbled at their master's\r\nunreasonableness.\r\n\r\nThe Knight meanwhile, thinking that his retainers could not fail to\r\nfind the jewel, repaired to his house, and fitted it up beautifully for\r\nthe reception of the Princess, he felt so sure of winning her.\r\n\r\nOne year passed away in weary waiting, and still his men did not return\r\nwith the dragon-jewel. The Knight became desperate. He could wait no\r\nlonger, so taking with him only two men he hired a ship and commanded\r\nthe captain to go in search of the dragon; the captain and the sailors\r\nrefused to undertake what they said was an absurd search, but the\r\nKnight compelled them at last to put out to sea.\r\n\r\nWhen they had been but a few days out they encountered a great storm\r\nwhich lasted so long that, by the time its fury abated, the Knight had\r\ndetermined to give up the hunt of the dragon. They were at last blown\r\non shore, for navigation was primitive in those days. Worn out with his\r\ntravels and anxiety, the fourth suitor gave himself up to rest. He had\r\ncaught a very heavy cold, and had to go to bed with a swollen face.\r\n\r\nThe governor of the place, hearing of his plight, sent messengers with\r\na letter inviting him to his house. While he was there thinking over\r\nall his troubles, his love for the Princess turned to anger, and he\r\nblamed her for all the hardships he had undergone. He thought that it\r\nwas quite probable she had wished to kill him so that she might be rid\r\nof him, and in order to carry out her wish had sent him upon his\r\nimpossible quest.\r\n\r\nAt this point all the servants he had sent out to find the jewel came\r\nto see him, and were surprised to find praise instead of displeasure\r\nawaiting them. Their master told them that he was heartily sick of\r\nadventure, and said that he never intended to go near the Princess's\r\nhouse again in the future.\r\n\r\nLike all the rest, the Fifth Knight failed in his quest--he could not\r\nfind the swallow's shell.\r\n\r\nBy this time the fame of Princess Moonlight's beauty had reached the\r\nears of the Emperor, and he sent one of the Court ladies to see if she\r\nwere really as lovely as report said; if so he would summon her to the\r\nPalace and make her one of the ladies-in-waiting.\r\n\r\nWhen the Court lady arrived, in spite of her father's entreaties,\r\nPrincess Moonlight refused to see her. The Imperial messenger insisted,\r\nsaying it was the Emperor's order. Then Princess Moonlight told the old\r\nman that if she was forced to go to the Palace in obedience to the\r\nEmperor's order, she would vanish from the earth.\r\n\r\nWhen the Emperor was told of her persistence in refusing to obey his\r\nsummons, and that if pressed to obey she would disappear altogether\r\nfrom sight, he determined to go and see her. So he planned to go on a\r\nhunting excursion in the neighborhood of the bamboo-cutter's house, and\r\nsee the Princess himself. He sent word to the old man of his intention,\r\nand he received consent to the scheme. The next day the Emperor set out\r\nwith his retinue, which he soon managed to outride. He found the\r\nbamboo-cutter's house and dismounted. He then entered the house and\r\nwent straight to where the Princess was sitting with her attendant\r\nmaidens.\r\n\r\nNever had he seen any one so wonderfully beautiful, and he could not\r\nbut look at her, for she was more lovely than any human being as she\r\nshone in her own soft radiance. When Princess Moonlight became aware\r\nthat a stranger was looking at her she tried to escape from the room,\r\nbut the Emperor caught her and begged her to listen to what he had to\r\nsay. Her only answer was to hide her face in her sleeves.\r\n\r\nThe Emperor fell deeply in love with her, and begged her to come to the\r\nCourt, where he would give her a position of honor and everything she\r\ncould wish for. He was about to send for one of the Imperial palanquins\r\nto take her back with him at once, saying that her grace and beauty\r\nshould adorn a Court, and not be hidden in a bamboo-cutter's cottage.\r\n\r\nBut the Princess stopped him. She said that if she were forced to go to\r\nthe Palace she would turn at once into a shadow, and even as she spoke\r\nshe began to lose her form. Her figure faded from his sight while he\r\nlooked.\r\n\r\nThe Emperor then promised to leave her free if only she would resume\r\nher former shape, which she did.\r\n\r\nIt was now time for him to return, for his retinue would be wondering\r\nwhat had happened to their Royal master when they missed him for so\r\nlong. So he bade her good-by, and left the house with a sad heart.\r\nPrincess Moonlight was for him the most beautiful woman in the world;\r\nall others were dark beside her, and he thought of her night and day.\r\nHis Majesty now spent much of his time in writing poems, telling her of\r\nhis love and devotion, and sent them to her, and though she refused to\r\nsee him again she answered with many verses of her own composing, which\r\ntold him gently and kindly that she could never marry any one on this\r\nearth. These little songs always gave him pleasure.\r\n\r\nAt this time her foster-parents noticed that night after night the\r\nPrincess would sit on her balcony and gaze for hours at the moon, in a\r\nspirit of the deepest dejection, ending always in a burst of tears. One\r\nnight the old man found her thus weeping as if her heart were broken,\r\nand he besought her to tell him the reason of her sorrow.\r\n\r\nWith many tears she told him that he had guessed rightly when he\r\nsupposed her not to belong to this world--that she had in truth come\r\nfrom the moon, and that her time on earth would soon be over. On the\r\nfifteenth day of that very month of August her friends from the moon\r\nwould come to fetch her, and she would have to return. Her parents were\r\nboth there, but having spent a lifetime on the earth she had forgotten\r\nthem, and also the moon-world to which she belonged. It made her weep,\r\nshe said, to think of leaving her kind foster-parents, and the home\r\nwhere she had been happy for so long.\r\n\r\nWhen her attendants heard this they were very sad, and could not eat or\r\ndrink for sadness at the thought that the Princess was so soon to leave\r\nthem.\r\n\r\nThe Emperor, as soon as the news was carried to him, sent messengers to\r\nthe house to find out if the report were true or not.\r\n\r\nThe old bamboo-cutter went out to meet the Imperial messengers. The\r\nlast few days of sorrow had told upon the old man; he had aged greatly,\r\nand looked much more than his seventy years. Weeping bitterly, he told\r\nthem that the report was only too true, but he intended, however, to\r\nmake prisoners of the envoys from the moon, and to do all he could to\r\nprevent the Princess from being carried back.\r\n\r\nThe men returned and told His Majesty all that had passed. On the\r\nfifteenth day of that month the Emperor sent a guard of two thousand\r\nwarriors to watch the house. One thousand stationed themselves on the\r\nroof, another thousand kept watch round all the entrances of the house.\r\nAll were well trained archers, with bows and arrows. The bamboo-cutter\r\nand his wife hid Princess Moonlight in an inner room.\r\n\r\nThe old man gave orders that no one was to sleep that night, all in the\r\nhouse were to keep a strict watch, and be ready to protect the\r\nPrincess. With these precautions, and the help of the Emperor's\r\nmen-at-arms, he hoped to withstand the moon-messengers, but the\r\nPrincess told him that all these measures to keep her would be useless,\r\nand that when her people came for her nothing whatever could prevent\r\nthem from carrying out their purpose. Even the Emperors men would be\r\npowerless. Then she added with tears that she was very, very sorry to\r\nleave him and his wife, whom she had learned to love as her parents,\r\nthat if she could do as she liked she would stay with them in their old\r\nage, and try to make some return for all the love and kindness they had\r\nshowered upon her during all her earthly life.\r\n\r\nThe night wore on! The yellow harvest moon rose high in the heavens,\r\nflooding the world asleep with her golden light. Silence reigned over\r\nthe pine and the bamboo forests, and on the roof where the thousand\r\nmen-at-arms waited.\r\n\r\nThen the night grew gray towards the dawn and all hoped that the danger\r\nwas over--that Princess Moonlight would not have to leave them after\r\nall. Then suddenly the watchers saw a cloud form round the moon--and\r\nwhile they looked this cloud began to roll earthwards. Nearer and\r\nnearer it came, and every one saw with dismay that its course lay\r\ntowards the house.\r\n\r\nIn a short time the sky was entirely obscured, till at last the cloud\r\nlay over the dwelling only ten feet off the ground. In the midst of the\r\ncloud there stood a flying chariot, and in the chariot a band of\r\nluminous beings. One amongst them who looked like a king and appeared\r\nto be the chief stepped out of the chariot, and, poised in air, called\r\nto the old man to come out.\r\n\r\n\"The time has come,\" he said, \"for Princess Moonlight to return to the\r\nmoon from whence she came. She committed a grave fault, and as a\r\npunishment was sent to live down here for a time. We know what good\r\ncare you have taken of the Princess, and we have rewarded you for this\r\nand have sent you wealth and prosperity. We put the gold in the bamboos\r\nfor you to find.\"\r\n\r\n\"I have brought up this Princess for twenty years and never once has\r\nshe done a wrong thing, therefore the lady you are seeking cannot be\r\nthis one,\" said the old man. \"I pray you to look elsewhere.\"\r\n\r\nThen the messenger called aloud, saying:\r\n\r\n\"Princess Moonlight, come out from this lowly dwelling. Rest not here\r\nanother moment.\"\r\n\r\nAt these words the screens of the Princess's room slid open of their\r\nown accord, revealing the Princess shining in her own radiance, bright\r\nand wonderful and full of beauty.\r\n\r\nThe messenger led her forth and placed her in the chariot. She looked\r\nback, and saw with pity the deep sorrow of the old man. She spoke to\r\nhim many comforting words, and told him that it was not her will to\r\nleave him and that he must always think of her when looking at the moon.\r\n\r\nThe bamboo-cutter implored to be allowed to accompany her, but this was\r\nnot allowed. The Princess took off her embroidered outer garment and\r\ngave it to him as a keepsake.\r\n\r\nOne of the moon beings in the chariot held a wonderful coat of wings,\r\nanother had a phial full of the Elixir of Life which was given the\r\nPrincess to drink. She swallowed a little and was about to give the\r\nrest to the old man, but she was prevented from doing so.\r\n\r\nThe robe of wings was about to be put upon her shoulders, but she said:\r\n\r\n\"Wait a little. I must not forget my good friend the Emperor. I must\r\nwrite him once more to say good-by while still in this human form.\"\r\n\r\nIn spite of the impatience of the messengers and charioteers she kept\r\nthem waiting while she wrote. She placed the phial of the Elixir of\r\nLife with the letter, and, giving them to the old man, she asked him to\r\ndeliver them to the Emperor.\r\n\r\nThen the chariot began to roll heavenwards towards the moon, and as\r\nthey all gazed with tearful eyes at the receding Princess, the dawn\r\nbroke, and in the rosy light of day the moon-chariot and all in it were\r\nlost amongst the fleecy clouds that were now wafted across the sky on\r\nthe wings of the morning wind.\r\n\r\nPrincess Moonlight's letter was carried to the Palace. His Majesty was\r\nafraid to touch the Elixir of Life, so he sent it with the letter to\r\nthe top of the most sacred mountain in the land. Mount Fuji, and there\r\nthe Royal emissaries burnt it on the summit at sunrise. So to this day\r\npeople say there is smoke to be seen rising from the top of Mount Fuji\r\nto the clouds.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE MIRROR OF MATSUYAMA\r\n\r\nA STORY OF OLD JAPAN.\r\n\r\n\r\nLong years ago in old Japan there lived in the Province of Echigo, a\r\nvery remote part of Japan even in these days, a man and his wife. When\r\nthis story begins they had been married for some years and were blessed\r\nwith one little daughter. She was the joy and pride of both their\r\nlives, and in her they stored an endless source of happiness for their\r\nold age.\r\n\r\nWhat golden letter days in their memory were these that had marked her\r\ngrowing up from babyhood; the visit to the temple when she was just\r\nthirty days old, her proud mother carrying her, robed in ceremonial\r\nkimono, to be put under the patronage of the family's household god;\r\nthen her first dolls festival, when her parents gave her a set of\r\ndolls and their miniature belongings, to be added to as year succeeded\r\nyear; and perhaps the most important occasion of all, on her third\r\nbirthday, when her first OBI (broad brocade sash) of scarlet and gold\r\nwas tied round her small waist, a sign that she had crossed the\r\nthreshold of girlhood and left infancy behind. Now that she was seven\r\nyears of age, and had learned to talk and to wait upon her parents in\r\nthose several little ways so dear to the hearts of fond parents, their\r\ncup of happiness seemed full. There could not be found in the whole of\r\nthe Island Empire a happier little family.\r\n\r\nOne day there was much excitement in the home, for the father had been\r\nsuddenly summoned to the capital on business. In these days of railways\r\nand jinrickshas and other rapid modes of traveling, it is difficult to\r\nrealize what such a journey as that from Matsuyama to Kyoto meant. The\r\nroads were rough and bad, and ordinary people had to walk every step of\r\nthe way, whether the distance were one hundred or several hundred\r\nmiles. Indeed, in those days it was as great an undertaking to go up to\r\nthe capital as it is for a Japanese to make a voyage to Europe now.\r\n\r\nSo the wife was very anxious while she helped her husband get ready for\r\nthe long journey, knowing what an arduous task lay before him. Vainly\r\nshe wished that she could accompany him, but the distance was too great\r\nfor the mother and child to go, and besides that, it was the wife's\r\nduty to take care of the home.\r\n\r\nAll was ready at last, and the husband stood in the porch with his\r\nlittle family round him.\r\n\r\n\"Do not be anxious, I will come back soon,\" said the man. \"While I am\r\naway take care of everything, and especially of our little daughter.\"\r\n\r\n\"Yes, we shall be all right--but you--you must take care of yourself\r\nand delay not a day in coming back to us,\" said the wife, while the\r\ntears fell like rain from her eyes.\r\n\r\nThe little girl was the only one to smile, for she was ignorant of the\r\nsorrow of parting, and did not know that going to the capital was at\r\nall different from walking to the next village, which her father did\r\nvery often. She ran to his side, and caught hold of his long sleeve to\r\nkeep him a moment.\r\n\r\n\"Father, I will be very good while I am waiting for you to come back,\r\nso please bring me a present.\"\r\n\r\nAs the father turned to take a last look at his weeping wife and\r\nsmiling, eager child, he felt as if some one were pulling him back by\r\nthe hair, so hard was it for him to leave them behind, for they had\r\nnever been separated before. But he knew that he must go, for the call\r\nwas imperative. With a great effort he ceased to think, and resolutely\r\nturning away he went quickly down the little garden and out through the\r\ngate. His wife, catching up the child in her arms, ran as far as the\r\ngate, and watched him as he went down the road between the pines till\r\nhe was lost in the haze of the distance and all she could see was his\r\nquaint peaked hat, and at last that vanished too.\r\n\r\n\"Now father has gone, you and I must take care of everything till he\r\ncomes back,\" said the mother, as she made her way back to the house.\r\n\r\n\"Yes, I will be very good,\" said the child, nodding her head, \"and when\r\nfather comes home please tell him how good I have been, and then\r\nperhaps he will give me a present.\"\r\n\r\n\"Father is sure to bring you something that you want very much. I know,\r\nfor I asked him to bring you a doll. You must think of father every\r\nday, and pray for a safe journey till he comes back.\"\r\n\r\n\"O, yes, when he comes home again how happy I shall be,\" said the\r\nchild, clapping her hands, and her face growing bright with joy at the\r\nglad thought. It seemed to the mother as she looked at the child's face\r\nthat her love for her grew deeper and deeper.\r\n\r\nThen she set to work to make the winter clothes for the three of them.\r\nShe set up her simple wooden spinning-wheel and spun the thread before\r\nshe began to weave the stuffs. In the intervals of her work she\r\ndirected the little girl's games and taught her to read the old stories\r\nof her country. Thus did the wife find consolation in work during the\r\nlonely days of her husband's absence. While the time was thus slipping\r\nquickly by in the quiet home, the husband finished his business and\r\nreturned.\r\n\r\nIt would have been difficult for any one who did not know the man well\r\nto recognize him. He had traveled day after day, exposed to all\r\nweathers, for about a month altogether, and was sunburnt to bronze, but\r\nhis fond wife and child knew him at a glance, and flew to meet him from\r\neither side, each catching hold of one of his sleeves in their eager\r\ngreeting. Both the man and his wife rejoiced to find each other well.\r\nIt seemed a very long time to all till--the mother and child\r\nhelping--his straw sandals were untied, his large umbrella hat taken\r\noff, and he was again in their midst in the old familiar sitting-room\r\nthat had been so empty while he was away.\r\n\r\nAs soon as they had sat down on the white mats, the father opened a\r\nbamboo basket that he had brought in with him, and took out a beautiful\r\ndoll and a lacquer box full of cakes.\r\n\r\n\"Here,\" he said to the little girl, \"is a present for you. It is a\r\nprize for taking care of mother and the house so well while I was away.\"\r\n\r\n\"Thank you,\" said the child, as she bowed her head to the ground, and\r\nthen put out her hand just like a little maple leaf with its eager\r\nwide-spread fingers to take the doll and the box, both of which, coming\r\nfrom the capital, were prettier than anything she had ever seen. No\r\nwords can tell how delighted the little girl was--her face seemed as if\r\nit would melt with joy, and she had no eyes and no thought for anything\r\nelse.\r\n\r\nAgain the husband dived into the basket, and brought out this time a\r\nsquare wooden box, carefully tied up with red and white string, and\r\nhanding it to his wife, said:\r\n\r\n\"And this is for you.\"\r\n\r\nThe wife took the box, and opening it carefully took out a metal disk\r\nwith a handle attached. One side was bright and shining like a crystal,\r\nand the other was covered with raised figures of pine-trees and storks,\r\nwhich had been carved out of its smooth surface in lifelike reality.\r\nNever had she seen such a thing in her life, for she had been born and\r\nbred in the rural province of Echigo. She gazed into the shining disk,\r\nand looking up with surprise and wonder pictured on her face, she said:\r\n\r\n\"I see somebody looking at me in this round thing! What is it that you\r\nhave given me?\"\r\n\r\nThe husband laughed and said:\r\n\r\n\"Why, it is your own face that you see. What I have brought you is\r\ncalled a mirror, and whoever looks into its clear surface can see their\r\nown form reflected there. Although there are none to be found in this\r\nout of the way place, yet they have been in use in the capital from the\r\nmost ancient times. There the mirror is considered a very necessary\r\nrequisite for a woman to possess. There is an old proverb that 'As the\r\nsword is the soul of a samurai, so is the mirror the soul of a woman,'\r\nand according to popular tradition, a woman's mirror is an index to her\r\nown heart--if she keeps it bright and clear, so is her heart pure and\r\ngood. It is also one of the treasures that form the insignia of the\r\nEmperor. So you must lay great store by your mirror, and use it\r\ncarefully.\"\r\n\r\nThe wife listened to all her husband told her, and was pleased at\r\nlearning so much that was new to her. She was still more pleased at the\r\nprecious gift--his token of remembrance while he had been away.\r\n\r\n\"If the mirror represents my soul, I shall certainly treasure it as a\r\nvaluable possession, and never will I use it carelessly.\" Saying so,\r\nshe lifted it as high as her forehead, in grateful acknowledgment of\r\nthe gift, and then shut it up in its box and put it away.\r\n\r\nThe wife saw that her husband was very tired, and set about serving the\r\nevening meal and making everything as comfortable as she could for him.\r\nIt seemed to the little family as if they had not known what true\r\nhappiness was before, so glad were they to be together again, and this\r\nevening the father had much to tell of his journey and of all he had\r\nseen at the great capital.\r\n\r\nTime passed away in the peaceful home, and the parents saw their\r\nfondest hopes realized as their daughter grew from childhood into a\r\nbeautiful girl of sixteen. As a gem of priceless value is held in its\r\nproud owner's hand, so had they reared her with unceasing love and\r\ncare: and now their pains were more than doubly rewarded. What a\r\ncomfort she was to her mother as she went about the house taking her\r\npart in the housekeeping, and how proud her father was of her, for she\r\ndaily reminded him of her mother when he had first married her.\r\n\r\nBut, alas! in this world nothing lasts forever. Even the moon is not\r\nalways perfect in shape, but loses its roundness with time, and flowers\r\nbloom and then fade. So at last the happiness of this family was broken\r\nup by a great sorrow. The good and gentle wife and mother was one day\r\ntaken ill.\r\n\r\nIn the first days of her illness the father and daughter thought that\r\nit was only a cold, and were not particularly anxious. But the days\r\nwent by and still the mother did not get better; she only grew worse,\r\nand the doctor was puzzled, for in spite of all he did the poor woman\r\ngrew weaker day by day. The father and daughter were stricken with\r\ngrief, and day or night the girl never left her mother's side. But in\r\nspite of all their efforts the woman's life was not to be saved.\r\n\r\nOne day as the girl sat near her mother's bed, trying to hide with a\r\ncheery smile the gnawing trouble at her heart, the mother roused\r\nherself and taking her daughter's hand, gazed earnestly and lovingly\r\ninto her eyes. Her breath was labored and she spoke with difficulty:\r\n\r\n\"My daughter. I am sure that nothing can save me now. When I am dead,\r\npromise me to take care of your dear father and to try to be a good and\r\ndutiful woman.\"\r\n\r\n\"Oh, mother,\" said the girl as the tears rushed to her eyes, \"you must\r\nnot say such things. All you have to do is to make haste and get\r\nwell--that will bring the greatest happiness to father and myself.\"\r\n\r\n\"Yes, I know, and it is a comfort to me in my last days to know how\r\ngreatly you long for me to get better, but it is not to be. Do not look\r\nso sorrowful, for it was so ordained in my previous state of existence\r\nthat I should die in this life just at this time; knowing this, I am\r\nquite resigned to my fate. And now I have something to give you whereby\r\nto remember me when I am gone.\"\r\n\r\nPutting her hand out, she took from the side of the pillow a square\r\nwooden box tied up with a silken cord and tassels. Undoing this very\r\ncarefully, she took out of the box the mirror that her husband had\r\ngiven her years ago.\r\n\r\n\"When you were still a little child your father went up to the capital\r\nand brought me back as a present this treasure; it is called a mirror.\r\nThis I give you before I die. If, after I have ceased to be in this\r\nlife, you are lonely and long to see me sometimes, then take out this\r\nmirror and in the clear and shining surface you will always see me--so\r\nwill you be able to meet with me often and tell me all your heart; and\r\nthough I shall not be able to speak, I shall understand and sympathize\r\nwith you, whatever may happen to you in the future.\" With these words\r\nthe dying woman handed the mirror to her daughter.\r\n\r\nThe mind of the good mother seemed to be now at rest, and sinking back\r\nwithout another word her spirit passed quietly away that day.\r\n\r\nThe bereaved father and daughter were wild with grief, and they\r\nabandoned themselves to their bitter sorrow. They felt it to be\r\nimpossible to take leave of the loved woman who till now had filled\r\ntheir whole lives and to commit her body to the earth. But this frantic\r\nburst of grief passed, and then they took possession of their own\r\nhearts again, crushed though they were in resignation. In spite of this\r\nthe daughter's life seemed to her desolate. Her love for her dead\r\nmother did not grow less with time, and so keen was her remembrance,\r\nthat everything in daily life, even the falling of the rain and the\r\nblowing of the wind, reminded her of her mother's death and of all that\r\nthey had loved and shared together. One day when her father was out,\r\nand she was fulfilling her household duties alone, her loneliness and\r\nsorrow seemed more than she could bear. She threw herself down in her\r\nmother's room and wept as if her heart would break. Poor child, she\r\nlonged just for one glimpse of the loved face, one sound of the voice\r\ncalling her pet name, or for one moment's forgetfulness of the aching\r\nvoid in her heart. Suddenly she sat up. Her mother's last words had\r\nrung through her memory hitherto dulled by grief.\r\n\r\n\"Oh! my mother told me when she gave me the mirror as a parting gift,\r\nthat whenever I looked into it I should be able to meet her--to see\r\nher. I had nearly forgotten her last words--how stupid I am; I will get\r\nthe mirror now and see if it can possibly be true!\"\r\n\r\nShe dried her eyes quickly, and going to the cupboard took out the box\r\nthat contained the mirror, her heart beating with expectation as she\r\nlifted the mirror out and gazed into its smooth face. Behold, her\r\nmother's words were true! In the round mirror before her she saw her\r\nmother's face; but, oh, the joyful surprise! It was not her mother thin\r\nand wasted by illness, but the young and beautiful woman as she\r\nremembered her far back in the days of her own earliest childhood. It\r\nseemed to the girl that the face in the mirror must soon speak, almost\r\nthat she heard the voice of her mother telling her again to grow up a\r\ngood woman and a dutiful daughter, so earnestly did the eyes in the\r\nmirror look back into her own.\r\n\r\n\"It is certainly my mother's soul that I see. She knows how miserable I\r\nam without her and she has come to comfort me. Whenever I long to see\r\nher she will meet me here; how grateful I ought to be!\"\r\n\r\nAnd from this time the weight of sorrow was greatly lightened for her\r\nyoung heart. Every morning, to gather strength for the day's duties\r\nbefore her, and every evening, for consolation before she lay down to\r\nrest, did the young girl take out the mirror and gaze at the reflection\r\nwhich in the simplicity of her innocent heart she believed to be her\r\nmother's soul. Daily she grew in the likeness of her dead mother's\r\ncharacter, and was gentle and kind to all, and a dutiful daughter to\r\nher father.\r\n\r\nA year spent in mourning had thus passed away in the little household,\r\nwhen, by the advice of his relations, the man married again, and the\r\ndaughter now found herself under the authority of a step-mother. It was\r\na trying position; but her days spent in the recollection of her own\r\nbeloved mother, and of trying to be what that mother would wish her to\r\nbe, had made the young girl docile and patient, and she now determined\r\nto be filial and dutiful to her father's wife, in all respects.\r\nEverything went on apparently smoothly in the family for some time\r\nunder the new regime; there were no winds or waves of discord to ruffle\r\nthe surface of every-day life, and the father was content.\r\n\r\nBut it is a woman's danger to be petty and mean, and step-mothers are\r\nproverbial all the world over, and this one's heart was not as her\r\nfirst smiles were. As the days and weeks grew into months, the\r\nstep-mother began to treat the motherless girl unkindly and to try and\r\ncome between the father and child.\r\n\r\nSometimes she went to her husband and complained of her step-daughter's\r\nbehavior, but the father knowing that this was to be expected, took no\r\nnotice of her ill-natured complaints. Instead of lessening his\r\naffection for his daughter, as the woman desired, her grumblings only\r\nmade him think of her the more. The woman soon saw that he began to\r\nshow more concern for his lonely child than before. This did not please\r\nher at all, and she began to turn over in her mind how she could, by\r\nsome means or other, drive her step-child out of the house. So crooked\r\ndid the woman's heart become.\r\n\r\nShe watched the girl carefully, and one day peeping into her room in\r\nthe early morning, she thought she discovered a grave enough sin of\r\nwhich to accuse the child to her father. The woman herself was a little\r\nfrightened too at what she had seen.\r\n\r\nSo she went at once to her husband, and wiping away some false tears\r\nshe said in a sad voice:\r\n\r\n\"Please give me permission to leave you today.\"\r\n\r\nThe man was completely taken by surprise at the suddenness of her\r\nrequest, and wondered whatever was the matter.\r\n\r\n\"Do you find it so disagreeable,\" he asked, \"in my house, that you can\r\nstay no longer?\"\r\n\r\n\"No! no! it has nothing to do with you--even in my dreams I have never\r\nthought that I wished to leave your side; but if I go on living here I\r\nam in danger of losing my life, so I think it best for all concerned\r\nthat you should allow me to go home!\"\r\n\r\nAnd the woman began to weep afresh. Her husband, distressed to see her\r\nso unhappy, and thinking that he could not have heard aright, said:\r\n\r\n\"Tell me what you mean! How is your life in danger here?\"\r\n\r\n\"I will tell you since you ask me. Your daughter dislikes me as her\r\nstep-mother. For some time past she has shut herself up in her room\r\nmorning and evening, and looking in as I pass by, I am convinced that\r\nshe has made an image of me and is trying to kill me by magic art,\r\ncursing me daily. It is not safe for me to stay here, such being the\r\ncase; indeed, indeed, I must go away, we cannot live under the same\r\nroof any more.\"\r\n\r\nThe husband listened to the dreadful tale, but he could not believe his\r\ngentle daughter guilty of such an evil act. He knew that by popular\r\nsuperstition people believed that one person could cause the gradual\r\ndeath of another by making an image of the hated one and cursing it\r\ndaily; but where had his young daughter learned such knowledge?--the\r\nthing was impossible. Yet he remembered having noticed that his\r\ndaughter stayed much in her room of late and kept herself away from\r\nevery one, even when visitors came to the house. Putting this fact\r\ntogether with his wife's alarm, he thought that there might be\r\nsomething to account for the strange story.\r\n\r\nHis heart was torn between doubting his wife and trusting his child,\r\nand he knew not what to do. He decided to go at once to his daughter\r\nand try to find out the truth. Comforting his wife and assuring her\r\nthat her fears were groundless, he glided quietly to his daughter's\r\nroom.\r\n\r\nThe girl had for a long time past been very unhappy. She had tried by\r\namiability and obedience to show her goodwill and to mollify the new\r\nwife, and to break down that wall of prejudice and misunderstanding\r\nthat she knew generally stood between step-parents and their\r\nstep-children. But she soon found that her efforts were in vain. The\r\nstep-mother never trusted her, and seemed to misinterpret all her\r\nactions, and the poor child knew very well that she often carried\r\nunkind and untrue tales to her father. She could not help comparing her\r\npresent unhappy condition with the time when her own mother was alive\r\nonly a little more than a year ago--so great a change in this short\r\ntime! Morning and evening she wept over the remembrance. Whenever she\r\ncould she went to her room, and sliding the screens to, took out the\r\nmirror and gazed, as she thought, at her mother's face. It was the only\r\ncomfort that she had in these wretched days.\r\n\r\nHer father found her occupied in this way. Pushing aside the fusama, he\r\nsaw her bending over something or other very intently. Looking over her\r\nshoulder, to see who was entering her room, the girl was surprised to\r\nsee her father, for he generally sent for her when he wished to speak\r\nto her. She was also confused at being found looking at the mirror, for\r\nshe had never told any one of her mother's last promise, but had kept\r\nit as the sacred secret of her heart. So before turning to her father\r\nshe slipped the mirror into her long sleeve. Her father noting her\r\nconfusion, and her act of hiding something, said in a severe manner:\r\n\r\n\"Daughter, what are you doing here? And what is that that you have\r\nhidden in your sleeve?\"\r\n\r\nThe girl was frightened by her father's severity. Never had he spoken\r\nto her in such a tone. Her confusion changed to apprehension, her color\r\nfrom scarlet to white. She sat dumb and shamefaced, unable to reply.\r\n\r\nAppearances were certainly against her; the young girl looked guilty,\r\nand the father thinking that perhaps after all what his wife had told\r\nhim was true, spoke angrily:\r\n\r\n\"Then, is it really true that you are daily cursing your step-mother\r\nand praying for her death? Have you forgotten what I told you, that\r\nalthough she is your step-mother you must be obedient and loyal to her?\r\nWhat evil spirit has taken possession of your heart that you should be\r\nso wicked? You have certainly changed, my daughter! What has made you\r\nso disobedient and unfaithful?\"\r\n\r\nAnd the father's eyes filled with sudden tears to think that he should\r\nhave to upbraid his daughter in this way.\r\n\r\nShe on her part did not know what he meant, for she had never heard of\r\nthe superstition that by praying over an image it is possible to cause\r\nthe death of a hated person. But she saw that she must speak and clear\r\nherself somehow. She loved her father dearly, and could not bear the\r\nidea of his anger. She put out her hand on his knee deprecatingly:\r\n\r\n\"Father! father! do not say such dreadful things to me. I am still your\r\nobedient child. Indeed, I am. However stupid I may be, I should never\r\nbe able to curse any one who belonged to you, much less pray for the\r\ndeath of one you love. Surely some one has been telling you lies, and\r\nyou are dazed, and you know not what you say--or some evil spirit has\r\ntaken possession of YOUR heart. As for me I do not know--no, not so\r\nmuch as a dew-drop, of the evil thing of which you accuse me.\"\r\n\r\nBut the father remembered that she had hidden something away when he\r\nfirst entered the room, and even this earnest protest did not satisfy\r\nhim. He wished to clear up his doubts once for all.\r\n\r\n\"Then why are you always alone in your room these days? And tell me\r\nwhat is that that you have hidden in your sleeve--show it to me at\r\nonce.\"\r\n\r\nThen the daughter, though shy of confessing how she had cherished her\r\nmother's memory, saw that she must tell her father all in order to\r\nclear herself. So she slipped the mirror out from her long sleeve and\r\nlaid it before him.\r\n\r\n\"This,\" she said, \"is what you saw me looking at just now.\"\r\n\r\n\"Why,\" he said in great surprise, \"this is the mirror that I brought as\r\na gift to your mother when I went up to the capital many years ago! And\r\nso you have kept it all this time? Now, why do you spend so much of\r\nyour time before this mirror?\"\r\n\r\nThen she told him of her mother's last words, and of how she had\r\npromised to meet her child whenever she looked into the glass. But\r\nstill the father could not understand the simplicity of his daughter's\r\ncharacter in not knowing that what she saw reflected in the mirror was\r\nin reality her own face, and not that of her mother.\r\n\r\n\"What do you mean?\" he asked. \"I do not understand how you can meet the\r\nsoul of your lost mother by looking in this mirror?\"\r\n\r\n\"It is indeed true,\" said the girl: \"and if you don't believe what I\r\nsay, look for yourself,\" and she placed the mirror before her. There,\r\nlooking back from the smooth metal disk, was her own sweet face. She\r\npointed to the reflection seriously:\r\n\r\n\"Do you doubt me still?\" she asked earnestly, looking up into his face.\r\n\r\nWith an exclamation of sudden understanding the father smote his two\r\nhands together.\r\n\r\n\"How stupid I am! At last I understand. Your face is as like your\r\nmother's as the two sides of a melon--thus you have looked at the\r\nreflection of your face all this time, thinking that you were brought\r\nface to face with your lost mother! You are truly a faithful child. It\r\nseems at first a stupid thing to have done, but it is not really so, It\r\nshows how deep has been your filial piety, and how innocent your heart.\r\nLiving in constant remembrance of your lost mother has helped you to\r\ngrow like her in character. How clever it was of her to tell you to do\r\nthis. I admire and respect you, my daughter, and I am ashamed to think\r\nthat for one instant I believed your suspicious step-mother's story and\r\nsuspected you of evil, and came with the intention of scolding you\r\nseverely, while all this time you have been so true and good. Before\r\nyou I have no countenance left, and I beg you to forgive me.\"\r\n\r\nAnd here the father wept. He thought of how lonely the poor girl must\r\nhave been, and of all that she must have suffered under her\r\nstep-mother's treatment. His daughter steadfastly keeping her faith and\r\nsimplicity in the midst of such adverse circumstances--bearing all her\r\ntroubles with so much patience and amiability--made him compare her to\r\nthe lotus which rears its blossom of dazzling beauty out of the slime\r\nand mud of the moats and ponds, fitting emblem of a heart which keeps\r\nitself unsullied while passing through the world.\r\n\r\nThe step-mother, anxious to know what would happen, had all this while\r\nbeen standing outside the room. She had grown interested, and had\r\ngradually pushed the sliding screen back till she could see all that\r\nwent on. At this moment she suddenly entered the room, and dropping to\r\nthe mats, she bowed her head over her outspread hands before her\r\nstep-daughter.\r\n\r\n\"I am ashamed! I am ashamed!\" she exclaimed in broken tones. \"I did not\r\nknow what a filial child you were. Through no fault of yours, but with\r\na step-mother's jealous heart, I have disliked you all the time. Hating\r\nyou so much myself, it was but natural that I should think you\r\nreciprocated the feeling, and thus when I saw you retire so often to\r\nyour room I followed you, and when I saw you gaze daily into the mirror\r\nfor long intervals, I concluded that you had found out how I disliked\r\nyou, and that you were out of revenge trying to take my life by magic\r\nart. As long as I live I shall never forget the wrong I have done you\r\nin so misjudging you, and in causing your father to suspect you. From\r\nthis day I throw away my old and wicked heart, and in its place I put a\r\nnew one, clean and full of repentance. I shall think of you as a child\r\nthat I have borne myself. I shall love and cherish you with all my\r\nheart, and thus try to make up for all the unhappiness I have caused\r\nyou. Therefore, please throw into the water all that has gone before,\r\nand give me, I beg of you, some of the filial love that you have\r\nhitherto given to your own lost mother.\"\r\n\r\nThus did the unkind step-mother humble herself and ask forgiveness of\r\nthe girl she had so wronged.\r\n\r\nSuch was the sweetness of the girl's disposition that she willingly\r\nforgave her step-mother, and never bore a moment's resentment or malice\r\ntowards her afterwards. The father saw by his wife's face that she was\r\ntruly sorry for the past, and was greatly relieved to see the terrible\r\nmisunderstanding wiped out of remembrance by both the wrong-doer and\r\nthe wronged.\r\n\r\nFrom this time on, the three lived together as happily as fish in\r\nwater. No such trouble ever darkened the home again, and the young girl\r\ngradually forgot that year of unhappiness in the tender love and care\r\nthat her step-mother now bestowed on her. Her patience and goodness\r\nwere rewarded at last.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE GOBLIN OF ADACHIGAHARA.\r\n\r\n\r\nLong, long ago there was a large plain called Adachigahara, in the\r\nprovince of Mutsu in Japan. This place was said to be haunted by a\r\ncannibal goblin who took the form of an old woman. From time to time\r\nmany travelers disappeared and were never heard of more, and the old\r\nwomen round the charcoal braziers in the evenings, and the girls\r\nwashing the household rice at the wells in the mornings, whispered\r\ndreadful stories of how the missing folk had been lured to the goblin's\r\ncottage and devoured, for the goblin lived only on human flesh. No one\r\ndared to venture near the haunted spot after sunset, and all those who\r\ncould, avoided it in the daytime, and travelers were warned of the\r\ndreaded place.\r\n\r\nOne day as the sun was setting, a priest came to the plain. He was a\r\nbelated traveler, and his robe showed that he was a Buddhist pilgrim\r\nwalking from shrine to shrine to pray for some blessing or to crave for\r\nforgiveness of sins. He had apparently lost his way, and as it was late\r\nhe met no one who could show him the road or warn him of the haunted\r\nspot.\r\n\r\nHe had walked the whole day and was now tired and hungry, and the\r\nevenings were chilly, for it was late autumn, and he began to be very\r\nanxious to find some house where he could obtain a night's lodging. He\r\nfound himself lost in the midst of the large plain, and looked about in\r\nvain for some sign of human habitation.\r\n\r\nAt last, after wandering about for some hours, he saw a clump of trees\r\nin the distance, and through the trees he caught sight of the glimmer\r\nof a single ray of light. He exclaimed with joy:\r\n\r\n\"Oh. surely that is some cottage where I can get a night's lodging!\"\r\n\r\nKeeping the light before his eyes he dragged his weary, aching feet as\r\nquickly as he could towards the spot, and soon came to a\r\nmiserable-looking little cottage. As he drew near he saw that it was in\r\na tumble-down condition, the bamboo fence was broken and weeds and\r\ngrass pushed their way through the gaps. The paper screens which serve\r\nas windows and doors in Japan were full of holes, and the posts of the\r\nhouse were bent with age and seemed scarcely able to support the old\r\nthatched roof. The hut was open, and by the light of an old lantern an\r\nold woman sat industriously spinning.\r\n\r\nThe pilgrim called to her across the bamboo fence and said:\r\n\r\n\"O Baa San (old woman), good evening! I am a traveler! Please excuse\r\nme, but I have lost my way and do not know what to do, for I have\r\nnowhere to rest to-night. I beg you to be good enough to let me spend\r\nthe night under your roof.\"\r\n\r\nThe old woman as soon as she heard herself spoken to stopped spinning,\r\nrose from her seat and approached the intruder.\r\n\r\n\"I am very sorry for you. You must indeed be distressed to have lost\r\nyour way in such a lonely spot so late at night. Unfortunately I cannot\r\nput you up, for I have no bed to offer you, and no accommodation\r\nwhatsoever for a guest in this poor place!\"\r\n\r\n\"Oh, that does not matter,\" said the priest; \"all I want is a shelter\r\nunder some roof for the night, and if you will be good enough just to\r\nlet me lie on the kitchen floor I shall be grateful. I am too tired to\r\nwalk further to-night, so I hope you will not refuse me, otherwise I\r\nshall have to sleep out on the cold plain.\" And in this way he pressed\r\nthe old woman to let him stay.\r\n\r\nShe seemed very reluctant, but at last she said:\r\n\r\n\"Very well, I will let you stay here. I can offer you a very poor\r\nwelcome only, but come in now and I will make a fire, for the night is\r\ncold.\"\r\n\r\nThe pilgrim was only too glad to do as he was told. He took off his\r\nsandals and entered the hut. The old woman then brought some sticks of\r\nwood and lit the fire, and bade her guest draw near and warm himself.\r\n\r\n\"You must be hungry after your long tramp,\" said the old woman. \"I will\r\ngo and cook some supper for you.\" She then went to the kitchen to cook\r\nsome rice.\r\n\r\nAfter the priest had finished his supper the old woman sat down by the\r\nfire-place, and they talked together for a long time. The pilgrim\r\nthought to himself that he had been very lucky to come across such a\r\nkind, hospitable old woman. At last the wood gave out, and as the fire\r\ndied slowly down he began to shiver with cold just as he had done when\r\nhe arrived.\r\n\r\n\"I see you are cold,\" said the old woman; \"I will go out and gather\r\nsome wood, for we have used it all. You must stay and take care of the\r\nhouse while I am gone.\"\r\n\r\n\"No, no,\" said the pilgrim, \"let me go instead, for you are old, and I\r\ncannot think of letting you go out to get wood for me this cold night!\"\r\n\r\nThe old woman shook her head and said:\r\n\r\n\"You must stay quietly here, for you are my guest.\" Then she left him\r\nand went out.\r\n\r\nIn a minute she came back and said:\r\n\r\n\"You must sit where you are and not move, and whatever happens don't go\r\nnear or look into the inner room. Now mind what I tell you!\"\r\n\r\n\"If you tell me not to go near the back room, of course I won't,\" said\r\nthe priest, rather bewildered.\r\n\r\nThe old woman then went out again, and the priest was left alone. The\r\nfire had died out, and the only light in the hut was that of a dim\r\nlantern. For the first time that night he began to feel that he was in\r\na weird place, and the old woman's words, \"Whatever you do don't peep\r\ninto the back room,\" aroused his curiosity and his fear.\r\n\r\nWhat hidden thing could be in that room that she did not wish him to\r\nsee? For some time the remembrance of his promise to the old woman kept\r\nhim still, but at last he could no longer resist his curiosity to peep\r\ninto the forbidden place.\r\n\r\nHe got up and began to move slowly towards the back room. Then the\r\nthought that the old woman would be very angry with him if he disobeyed\r\nher made him come back to his place by the fireside.\r\n\r\nAs the minutes went slowly by and the old woman did not return, he\r\nbegan to feel more and more frightened, and to wonder what dreadful\r\nsecret was in the room behind him. He must find out.\r\n\r\n\"She will not know that I have looked unless I tell her. I will just\r\nhave a peep before she comes back,\" said the man to himself.\r\n\r\nWith these words he got up on his feet (for he had been sitting all\r\nthis time in Japanese fashion with his feet under him) and stealthily\r\ncrept towards the forbidden spot. With trembling hands he pushed back\r\nthe sliding door and looked in. What he saw froze the blood in his\r\nveins. The room was full of dead men's bones and the walls were\r\nsplashed and the floor was covered with human blood. In one corner\r\nskull upon skull rose to the ceiling, in another was a heap of arm\r\nbones, in another a heap of leg bones. The sickening smell made him\r\nfaint. He fell backwards with horror, and for some time lay in a heap\r\nwith fright on the floor, a pitiful sight. He trembled all over and his\r\nteeth chattered, and he could hardly crawl away from the dreadful spot.\r\n\r\n\"How horrible!\" he cried out. \"What awful den have I come to in my\r\ntravels? May Buddha help me or I am lost. Is it possible that that kind\r\nold woman is really the cannibal goblin? When she comes back she will\r\nshow herself in her true character and eat me up at one mouthful!\"\r\n\r\nWith these words his strength came back to him and, snatching up his\r\nhat and staff, he rushed out of the house as fast as his legs could\r\ncarry him. Out into the night he ran, his one thought to get as far as\r\nhe could from the goblin's haunt. He had not gone far when he heard\r\nsteps behind him and a voice crying: \"Stop! stop!\"\r\n\r\nHe ran on, redoubling his speed, pretending not to hear. As he ran he\r\nheard the steps behind him come nearer and nearer, and at last he\r\nrecognized the old woman's voice which grew louder and louder as she\r\ncame nearer.\r\n\r\n\"Stop! stop, you wicked man, why did you look into the forbidden room?\"\r\n\r\nThe priest quite forgot how tired he was and his feet flew over the\r\nground faster than ever. Fear gave him strength, for he knew that if\r\nthe goblin caught him he would soon be one of her victims. With all his\r\nheart he repeated the prayer to Buddha:\r\n\r\n\"Namu Amida Butsu, Namu Amida Butsu.\"\r\n\r\nAnd after him rushed the dreadful old hag, her hair flying in the wind,\r\nand her face changing with rage into the demon that she was. In her\r\nhand she carried a large blood-stained knife, and she still shrieked\r\nafter him, \"Stop! stop!\"\r\n\r\nAt last, when the priest felt he could run no more, the dawn broke, and\r\nwith the darkness of night the goblin vanished and he was safe. The\r\npriest now knew that he had met the Goblin of Adachigahara, the story\r\nof whom he had often heard but never believed to be true. He felt that\r\nhe owed his wonderful escape to the protection of Buddha to whom he had\r\nprayed for help, so he took out his rosary and bowing his head as the\r\nsun rose he said his prayers and made his thanksgiving earnestly. He\r\nthen set forward for another part of the country, only too glad to\r\nleave the haunted plain behind him.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE SAGACIOUS MONKEY AND THE BOAR.\r\n\r\n\r\nLong, long ago, there lived in the province of Shinshin in Japan, a\r\ntraveling monkey-man, who earned his living by taking round a monkey\r\nand showing off the animal's tricks.\r\n\r\nOne evening the man came home in a very bad temper and told his wife to\r\nsend for the butcher the next morning.\r\n\r\nThe wife was very bewildered and asked her husband:\r\n\r\n\"Why do you wish me to send for the butcher?\"\r\n\r\n\"It's no use taking that monkey round any longer, he's too old and\r\nforgets his tricks. I beat him with my stick all I know how, but he\r\nwon't dance properly. I must now sell him to the butcher and make what\r\nmoney out of him I can. There is nothing else to be done.\"\r\n\r\nThe woman felt very sorry for the poor little animal, and pleaded for\r\nher husband to spare the monkey, but her pleading was all in vain, the\r\nman was determined to sell him to the butcher.\r\n\r\nNow the monkey was in the next room and overheard every word of the\r\nconversation. He soon understood that he was to be killed, and he said\r\nto himself:\r\n\r\n\"Barbarous, indeed, is my master! Here I have served him faithfully for\r\nyears, and instead of allowing me to end my days comfortably and in\r\npeace, he is going to let me be cut up by the butcher, and my poor body\r\nis to be roasted and stewed and eaten? Woe is me! What am I to do. Ah!\r\na bright thought has struck me! There is, I know, a wild bear living in\r\nthe forest near by. I have often heard tell of his wisdom. Perhaps if I\r\ngo to him and tell him the strait I am in he will give me his counsel.\r\nI will go and try.\"\r\n\r\nThere was no time to lose. The monkey slipped out of the house and ran\r\nas quickly as he could to the forest to find the boar. The boar was at\r\nhome, and the monkey began his tale of woe at once.\r\n\r\n\"Good Mr. Boar, I have heard of your excellent wisdom. I am in great\r\ntrouble, you alone can help me. I have grown old in the service of my\r\nmaster, and because I cannot dance properly now he intends to sell me\r\nto the butcher. What do you advise me to do? I know how clever you are!\"\r\n\r\nThe boar was pleased at the flattery and determined to help the monkey.\r\nHe thought for a little while and then said:\r\n\r\n\"Hasn't your master a baby?\"\r\n\r\n\"Oh, yes,\" said the monkey, \"he has one infant son.\"\r\n\r\n\"Doesn't it lie by the door in the morning when your mistress begins\r\nthe work of the day? Well, I will come round early and when I see my\r\nopportunity I will seize the child and run off with it.\"\r\n\r\n\"What then?\" said the monkey.\r\n\r\n\"Why the mother will be in a tremendous scare, and before your master\r\nand mistress know what to do, you must run after me and rescue the\r\nchild and take it home safely to its parents, and you will see that\r\nwhen the butcher comes they won't have the heart to sell you.\"\r\n\r\nThe monkey thanked the boar many times and then went home. He did not\r\nsleep much that night, as you may imagine, for thinking of the morrow.\r\nHis life depended on whether the boar's plan succeeded or not. He was\r\nthe first up, waiting anxiously for what was to happen. It seemed to\r\nhim a very long time before his master's wife began to move about and\r\nopen the shutters to let in the light of day. Then all happened as the\r\nboar had planned. The mother placed her child near the porch as usual\r\nwhile she tidied up the house and got her breakfast ready.\r\n\r\nThe child was crooning happily in the morning sunlight, dabbing on the\r\nmats at the play of light and shadow. Suddenly there was a noise in the\r\nporch and a loud cry from the child. The mother ran out from the\r\nkitchen to the spot, only just in time to see the boar disappearing\r\nthrough the gate with her child in its clutch. She flung out her hands\r\nwith a loud cry of despair and rushed into the inner room where her\r\nhusband was still sleeping soundly.\r\n\r\nHe sat up slowly and rubbed his eyes, and crossly demanded what his\r\nwife was making all that noise about. By the time that the man was\r\nalive to what had happened, and they both got outside the gate, the\r\nboar had got well away, but they saw the monkey running after the thief\r\nas hard as his legs would carry him.\r\n\r\nBoth the man and wife were moved to admiration at the plucky conduct of\r\nthe sagacious monkey, and their gratitude knew no bounds when the\r\nfaithful monkey brought the child safely back to their arms.\r\n\r\n\"There!\" said the wife. \"This is the animal you want to kill--if the\r\nmonkey hadn't been here we should have lost our child forever.\"\r\n\r\n\"You are right, wife, for once,\" said the man as he carried the child\r\ninto the house. \"You may send the butcher back when he comes, and now\r\ngive us all a good breakfast and the monkey too.\"\r\n\r\nWhen the butcher arrived he was sent away with an order for some boar's\r\nmeat for the evening dinner, and the monkey was petted and lived the\r\nrest of his days in peace, nor did his master ever strike him again.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE HAPPY HUNTER AND THE SKILLFUL FISHER.\r\n\r\n\r\nLong, long ago Japan was governed by Hohodemi, the fourth Mikoto (or\r\nAugustness) in descent from the illustrious Amaterasu, the Sun Goddess.\r\nHe was not only as handsome as his ancestress was beautiful, but he was\r\nalso very strong and brave, and was famous for being the greatest\r\nhunter in the land. Because of his matchless skill as a hunter, he was\r\ncalled \"Yama-sachi-hiko\" or \"The Happy Hunter of the Mountains.\"\r\n\r\nHis elder brother was a very skillful fisher, and as he far surpassed\r\nall rivals in fishing, he was named \"Unii-sachi-hiko\" or the \"Skillful\r\nFisher of the Sea.\" The brothers thus led happy lives, thoroughly\r\nenjoying their respective occupations, and the days passed quickly and\r\npleasantly while each pursued his own way, the one hunting and the\r\nother fishing.\r\n\r\nOne day the Happy Hunter came to his brother, the Skillful Fisher, and\r\nsaid:\r\n\r\n\"Well, my brother, I see you go to the sea every day with your fishing\r\nrod in your hand, and when you return you come laden with fish. And as\r\nfor me, it is my pleasure to take my bow and arrow and to hunt the wild\r\nanimals up the mountains and down in the valleys. For a long time we\r\nhave each followed our favorite occupation, so that now we must both be\r\ntired, you of your fishing and I of my hunting. Would it not be wise\r\nfor us to make a change? Will you try hunting in the mountains and I\r\nwill go and fish in the sea?\"\r\n\r\nThe Skillful Fisher listened in silence to his brother, and for a\r\nmoment was thoughtful, but at last he answered:\r\n\r\n\"O yes, why not? Your idea is not a bad one at all. Give me your bow\r\nand arrow and I will set out at once for the mountains and hunt for\r\ngame.\"\r\n\r\nSo the matter was settled by this talk, and the two brothers each\r\nstarted out to try the other's occupation, little dreaming of all that\r\nwould happen. It was very unwise of them, for the Happy Hunter knew\r\nnothing of fishing, and the Skillful Fisher, who was bad tempered, knew\r\nas much about hunting.\r\n\r\nThe Happy Hunter took his brother's much-prized fishing hook and rod\r\nand went down to the seashore and sat down on the rocks. He baited his\r\nhook and then threw it into the sea clumsily. He sat and gazed at the\r\nlittle float bobbing up and down in the water, and longed for a good\r\nfish to come and be caught. Every time the buoy moved a little he\r\npulled up his rod, but there was never a fish at the end of it, only\r\nthe hook and the bait. If he had known how to fish properly, he would\r\nhave been able to catch plenty of fish, but although he was the\r\ngreatest hunter in the land he could not help being the most bungling\r\nfisher.\r\n\r\nThe whole day passed in this way, while he sat on the rocks holding the\r\nfishing rod and waiting in vain for his luck to turn. At last the day\r\nbegan to darken, and the evening came; still he had caught not a single\r\nfish. Drawing up his line for the last time before going home, he found\r\nthat he had lost his hook without even knowing when he had dropped it.\r\n\r\nHe now began to feel extremely anxious, for he knew that his brother\r\nwould be angry at his having lost his hook, for, it being his only one,\r\nhe valued it above all other things. The Happy Hunter now set to work\r\nto look among the rocks and on the sand for the lost hook, and while he\r\nwas searching to and fro, his brother, the Skillful Fisher, arrived on\r\nthe scene. He had failed to find any game while hunting that day, and\r\nwas not only in a bad temper, but looked fearfully cross. When he saw\r\nthe Happy Hunter searching about on the shore he knew that something\r\nmust have gone wrong, so he said at once:\r\n\r\n\"What are you doing, my brother?\"\r\n\r\nThe Happy Hunter went forward timidly, for he feared his brother's\r\nanger, and said:\r\n\r\n\"Oh, my brother, I have indeed done badly.\"\r\n\r\n\"What is the matter?--what have you done?\" asked the elder brother\r\nimpatiently.\r\n\r\n\"I have lost your precious fishing hook--\"\r\n\r\nWhile he was still speaking his brother stopped him, and cried out\r\nfiercely:\r\n\r\n\"Lost my hook! It is just what I expected. For this reason, when you\r\nfirst proposed your plan of changing over our occupations I was really\r\nagainst it, but you seemed to wish it so much that I gave in and\r\nallowed you to do as you wished. The mistake of our trying unfamiliar\r\ntasks is soon seen! And you have done badly. I will not return you your\r\nbow and arrow till you have found my hook. Look to it that you find it\r\nand return it to me quickly.\"\r\n\r\nThe Happy Hunter felt that he was to blame for all that had come to\r\npass, and bore his brother's scornful scolding with humility and\r\npatience. He hunted everywhere for the hook most diligently, but it was\r\nnowhere to be found. He was at last obliged to give up all hope of\r\nfinding it. He then went home, and in desperation broke his beloved\r\nsword into pieces and made five hundred hooks out of it.\r\n\r\nHe took these to his angry brother and offered them to him, asking his\r\nforgiveness, and begging him to accept them in the place of the one he\r\nhad lost for him. It was useless; his brother would not listen to him,\r\nmuch less grant his request.\r\n\r\nThe Happy Hunter then made another five hundred hooks, and again took\r\nthem to his brother, beseeching him to pardon him.\r\n\r\n\"Though you make a million hooks,\" said the Skillful Fisher, shaking\r\nhis head, \"they are of no use to me. I cannot forgive you unless you\r\nbring me back my own hook.\"\r\n\r\nNothing would appease the anger of the Skillful Fisher, for he had a\r\nbad disposition, and had always hated his brother because of his\r\nvirtues, and now with the excuse of the lost fishing hook he planned to\r\nkill him and to usurp his place as ruler of Japan. The Happy Hunter\r\nknew all this full well, but he could say nothing, for being the\r\nyounger he owed his elder brother obedience; so he returned to the\r\nseashore and once more began to look for the missing hook. He was much\r\ncast down, for he had lost all hope of ever finding his brother's hook\r\nnow. While he stood on the beach, lost in perplexity and wondering what\r\nhe had best do next, an old man suddenly appeared carrying a stick in\r\nhis hand. The Happy Hunter afterwards remembered that he did not see\r\nfrom whence the old man came, neither did he know how he was there--he\r\nhappened to look up and saw the old man coming towards him.\r\n\r\n\"You are Hohodemi, the Augustness, sometimes called the Happy Hunter,\r\nare you not?\" asked the old man. \"What are you doing alone in such a\r\nplace?\"\r\n\r\n\"Yes, I am he,\" answered the unhappy young man. \"Unfortunately, while\r\nfishing I lost my brother's precious fishing hook. I have hunted this\r\nshore all over, but alas! I cannot find it, and I am very troubled, for\r\nmy brother won't forgive me till I restore it to him. But who are you?\"\r\n\r\n\"My name is Shiwozuchino Okina, and I live near by on this shore. I am\r\nsorry to hear what misfortune has befallen you. You must indeed be\r\nanxious. But if I tell you what I think, the hook is nowhere here--it\r\nis either at the bottom of the sea or in the body of some fish who has\r\nswallowed it, and for this reason, though you spend your whole life in\r\nlooking for it here, you will never find it.\"\r\n\r\n\"Then what can I do?\" asked the distressed man.\r\n\r\n\"You had better go down to Ryn Gu and tell Ryn Jin, the Dragon King of\r\nthe Sea, what your trouble is and ask him to find the hook for you. I\r\nthink that would be the best way.\"\r\n\r\n\"Your idea is a splendid one,\" said the Happy Hunter, \"but I fear I\r\ncannot get to the Sea King's realm, for I have always heard that it is\r\nsituated at the bottom of the sea.\"\r\n\r\n\"Oh, there will be no difficulty about your getting there,\" said the\r\nold man; \"I can soon make something for you to ride on through the sea.\"\r\n\r\n\"Thank you,\" said the Happy Hunter, \"I shall be very grateful to you if\r\nyou will be so kind.\"\r\n\r\nThe old man at once set to work, and soon made a basket and offered it\r\nto the Happy Hunter. He received it with joy, and taking it to the\r\nwater, mounted it, and prepared to start. He bade good by to the kind\r\nold man who had helped him so much, and told him that he would\r\ncertainly reward him as soon as he found his hook and could return to\r\nJapan without fear of his brother's anger. The old man pointed out the\r\ndirection he must take, and told him how to reach the realm of Ryn Gu,\r\nand watched him ride out to sea on the basket, which resembled a small\r\nboat.\r\n\r\nThe Happy Hunter made all the haste he could, riding on the basket\r\nwhich had been given him by his friend. His queer boat seemed to go\r\nthrough the water of its own accord, and the distance was much shorter\r\nthan he had expected, for in a few hours he caught sight of the gate\r\nand the roof of the Sea King's Palace. And what a large place it was,\r\nwith its numberless sloping roofs and gables, its huge gateways, and\r\nits gray stone walls! He soon landed, and leaving his basket on the\r\nbeach, he walked up to the large gateway. The pillars of the gate were\r\nmade of beautiful red coral, and the gate itself was adorned with\r\nglittering gems of all kinds. Large katsura trees overshadowed it. Our\r\nhero had often heard of the wonders of the Sea King's Palace beneath\r\nthe sea, but all the stories he had ever heard fell short of the\r\nreality which he now saw for the first time.\r\n\r\nThe Happy Hunter would have liked to enter the gate there and then, but\r\nhe saw that it was fast closed, and also that there was no one about\r\nwhom he could ask to open it for him, so he stopped to think what he\r\nshould do. In the shade of the trees before the gate he noticed a well\r\nfull of fresh spring water. Surely some one would come out to draw\r\nwater from the well some time, he thought. Then he climbed into the\r\ntree overhanging the well, and seated himself to rest on one of the\r\nbranches, and waited for what might happen. Ere long he saw the huge\r\ngate swing open, and two beautiful women came out. Now the Mikoto\r\n(Augustness) had always heard that Ryn Gu was the realm of the Dragon\r\nKing under the Sea, and had naturally supposed that the place was\r\ninhabited by dragons and similar terrible creatures, so that when he\r\nsaw these two lovely princesses, whose beauty would be rare even in the\r\nworld from which he had just come, he was exceedingly surprised, and\r\nwondered what it could mean.\r\n\r\nHe said not a word, however, but silently gazed at them through the\r\nfoliage of the trees, waiting to see what they would do. He saw that in\r\ntheir hands they carried golden buckets. Slowly and gracefully in their\r\ntrailing garments they approached the well, standing in the shade of\r\nthe katsura trees, and were about to draw water, all unknowing of the\r\nstranger who was watching them, for the Happy Hunter was quite hidden\r\namong the branches of the tree where he had posted himself.\r\n\r\nAs the two ladies leaned over the side of the well to let down their\r\ngolden buckets, which they did every day in the year, they saw\r\nreflected in the deep still water the face of a handsome youth gazing\r\nat them from amidst the branches of the tree in whose shade they stood.\r\nNever before had they seen the face of mortal man; they were\r\nfrightened, and drew back quickly with their golden buckets in their\r\nhands. Their curiosity, however, soon gave them courage, and they\r\nglanced timidly upwards to see the cause of the unusual reflection, and\r\nthen they beheld the Happy Hunter sitting in the tree looking down at\r\nthem with surprise and admiration. They gazed at him face to face, but\r\ntheir tongues were still with wonder and could not find a word to say\r\nto him.\r\n\r\nWhen the Mikoto saw that he was discovered, he sprang down lightly from\r\nthe tree and said:\r\n\r\n\"I am a traveler, and as I was very thirsty I came to the well in the\r\nhopes of quenching my thirst, but I could find no bucket with which to\r\ndraw the water. So I climbed into the tree, much vexed, and waited for\r\nsome one to come. Just at that moment, while I was thirstily and\r\nimpatiently waiting, you noble ladies appeared, as if in answer to my\r\ngreat need. Therefore I pray you of your mercy give me some water to\r\ndrink, for I am a thirsty traveler in a strange land.\"\r\n\r\nHis dignity and graciousness overruled their timidity, and bowing in\r\nsilence they both once more approached the well, and letting down their\r\ngolden buckets drew up some water and poured it into a jeweled cup and\r\noffered it to the stranger.\r\n\r\nHe received it from them with both hands, raising it to the height of\r\nhis forehead in token of high respect and pleasure, and then drank the\r\nwater quickly, for his thirst was great. When he had finished his long\r\ndraught he set the cup down on the edge of the well, and drawing his\r\nshort sword he cut off one of the strange curved jewels (magatama), a\r\nnecklace of which hung round his neck and fell over his breast. He\r\nplaced the jewel in the cup and returned it to them, and said, bowing\r\ndeeply:\r\n\r\n\"This is a token of my thanks!\"\r\n\r\nThe two ladies took the cup, and looking into it to see what he had put\r\ninside--for they did not yet know what it was--they gave a start of\r\nsurprise, for there lay a beautiful gem at the bottom of the cup.\r\n\r\n\"No ordinary mortal would give away a jewel so freely. Will you not\r\nhonor us by telling us who you are?\" said the elder damsel.\r\n\r\n\"Certainly,\" said the Happy Hunter, \"I am Hohodemi, the fourth Mikoto,\r\nalso called in Japan, the Happy Hunter.\"\r\n\r\n\"Are you indeed Hohodemi, the grandson of Amaterasu, the Sun Goddess?\"\r\nasked the damsel who had spoken first. \"I am the eldest daughter of Ryn\r\nJin, the King of the Sea, and my name is Princess Tayotama.\"\r\n\r\n\"And,\" said the younger maiden, who at last found her tongue, \"I am her\r\nsister, the Princess Tamayori.\"\r\n\r\n\"Are you indeed the daughters of Ryn Jin, the King of the Sea? I cannot\r\ntell you how glad I am to meet you,\" said the Happy Hunter. And without\r\nwaiting for them to reply he went on:\r\n\r\n\"The other day I went fishing with my brother's hook and dropped it,\r\nhow, I am sure I can't tell. As my brother prizes his fishing hook\r\nabove all his other possessions, this is the greatest calamity that\r\ncould have befallen me. Unless I find it again I can never hope to win\r\nmy brother's forgiveness, for he is very angry at what I have done. I\r\nhave searched for it many, many times, but I cannot find it, therefore\r\nI am much troubled. While I was hunting for the hook, in great\r\ndistress, I met a wise old man, and he told me that the best thing I\r\ncould do was to come to Ryn Gu, and to Ryn Jin, the Dragon King of the\r\nSea, and ask him to help me. This kind old man also showed me how to\r\ncome. Now you know how it is I am here and why. I want to ask Ryn Jin,\r\nif he knows where the lost hook is. Will you be so kind as to take me\r\nto your father? And do you think he will see me?\" asked the Happy\r\nHunter anxiously.\r\n\r\nPrincess Tayotama listened to this long story, and then said:\r\n\r\n\"Not only is it easy for you to see my father, but he will be much\r\npleased to meet you. I am sure he will say that good fortune has\r\nbefallen him, that so great and noble a man as you, the grandson of\r\nAmaterasu, should come down to the bottom of the sea.\" And then turning\r\nto her younger sister, she said:\r\n\r\n\"Do you not think so, Tamayori?\"\r\n\r\n\"Yes, indeed,\" answered the Princess Tamayori, in her sweet voice. \"As\r\nyou say, we can know no greater honor than to welcome the Mikoto to our\r\nhome.\"\r\n\r\n\"Then I ask you to be so kind as to lead the way,\" said the Happy\r\nHunter.\r\n\r\n\"Condescend to enter, Mikoto (Augustness),\" said both the sisters, and\r\nbowing low, they led him through the gate.\r\n\r\nThe younger Princess left her sister to take charge of the Happy\r\nHunter, and going faster than they, she reached the Sea King's Palace\r\nfirst, and running quickly to her father's room, she told him of all\r\nthat had happened to them at the gate, and that her sister was even now\r\nbringing the Augustness to him. The Dragon King of the Sea was much\r\nsurprised at the news, for it was but seldom, perhaps only once in\r\nseveral hundred years, that the Sea King's Palace was visited by\r\nmortals.\r\n\r\nRyn Jin at once clapped his hands and summoned all his courtiers and\r\nthe servants of the Palace, and the chief fish of the sea together, and\r\nsolemnly told them that the grandson of the Sun Goddess, Amaterasu, was\r\ncoming to the Palace, and that they must be very ceremonious and polite\r\nin serving the august visitor. He then ordered them all to the entrance\r\nof the Palace to welcome the Happy Hunter.\r\n\r\nRyn Jin then dressed himself in his robes of ceremony, and went out to\r\nwelcome him. In a few moments the Princess Tayotama and the Happy\r\nHunter reached the entrance, and the Sea King and his wife bowed to the\r\nground and thanked him for the honor he did them in coming to see them.\r\nThe Sea King then led the Happy Hunter to the guest room, and placing\r\nhim in the uppermost seat, he bowed respectfully before him, and said:\r\n\r\n\"I am Ryn Jin, the Dragon King of the Sea, and this is my wife.\r\nCondescend to remember us forever!\"\r\n\r\n\"Are you indeed Ryn Jin, the King of the Sea, of whom I have so often\r\nheard?\" answered the Happy Hunter, saluting his host most\r\nceremoniously. \"I must apologize for all the trouble I am giving you by\r\nmy unexpected visit.\" And he bowed again, and thanked the Sea King.\r\n\r\n\"You need not thank me,\" said Ryn Jin. \"It is I who must thank you for\r\ncoming. Although the Sea Palace is a poor place, as you see, I shall be\r\nhighly honored if you will make us a long visit.\"\r\n\r\nThere was much gladness between the Sea King and the Happy Hunter, and\r\nthey sat and talked for a long time. At last the Sea King clapped his\r\nhands, and then a huge retinue of fishes appeared, all robed in\r\nceremonial garments, and bearing in their fins various trays on which\r\nall kinds of sea delicacies were served. A great feast was now spread\r\nbefore the King and his Royal guest. All the fishes-in-waiting were\r\nchosen from amongst the finest fish in the sea, so you can imagine what\r\na wonderful array of sea creatures it was that waited upon the Happy\r\nHunter that day. All in the Palace tried to do their best to please him\r\nand to show him that he was a much honored guest. During the long\r\nrepast, which lasted for hours, Ryn Jin commanded his daughters to play\r\nsome music, and the two Princesses came in and performed on the KOTO\r\n(the Japanese harp), and sang and danced in turns. The time passed so\r\npleasantly that the Happy Hunter seemed to forget his trouble and why\r\nhe had come at all to the Sea King's Realm, and he gave himself up to\r\nthe enjoyment of this wonderful place, the land of fairy fishes! Who\r\nhas ever heard of such a marvelous place? But the Mikoto soon\r\nremembered what had brought him to Ryn Gu, and said to his host:\r\n\r\n\"Perhaps your daughters have told you, King Ryn Jin, that I have come\r\nhere to try and recover my brother's fishing hook, which I lost while\r\nfishing the other day. May I ask you to be so kind as to inquire of all\r\nyour subjects if any of them have seen a fishing hook lost in the sea?\"\r\n\r\n\"Certainly,\" said the obliging Sea King, \"I will immediately summon\r\nthem all here and ask them.\"\r\n\r\nAs soon as he had issued his command, the octopus, the cuttlefish, the\r\nbonito, the oxtail fish, the eel, the jelly fish, the shrimp, and the\r\nplaice, and many other fishes of all kinds came in and sat down before\r\nRyn Jin their King, and arranged themselves and their fins in order.\r\nThen the Sea King said solemnly:\r\n\r\n\"Our visitor who is sitting before you all is the august grandson of\r\nAmaterasu. His name is Hohodemi, the fourth Augustness, and he is also\r\ncalled the Happy Hunter of the Mountains. While he was fishing the\r\nother day upon the shore of Japan, some one robbed him of his brother's\r\nfishing hook. He has come all this way down to the bottom of the sea to\r\nour Kingdom because he thought that one of you fishes may have taken\r\nthe hook from him in mischievous play. If any of you have done so you\r\nmust immediately return it, or if any of you know who the thief is you\r\nmust at once tell us his name and where he is now.\"\r\n\r\nAll the fishes were taken by surprise when they heard these words, and\r\ncould say nothing for some time. They sat looking at each other and at\r\nthe Dragon King. At last the cuttlefish came forward and said:\r\n\r\n\"I think the TAI (the red bream) must be the thief who has stolen the\r\nhook!\"\r\n\r\n\"Where is your proof?\" asked the King.\r\n\r\n\"Since yesterday evening the TAI has not been able to eat anything, and\r\nhe seems to be suffering from a bad throat! For this reason I think the\r\nhook may be in his throat. You had better send for him at once!\"\r\n\r\nAll the fish agreed to this, and said:\r\n\r\n\"It is certainly strange that the TAI is the only fish who has not\r\nobeyed your summons. Will you send for him and inquire into the matter.\r\nThen our innocence will be proved.\"\r\n\r\n\"Yes,\" said the Sea King, \"it is strange that the TAI has not come, for\r\nhe ought to be the first to be here. Send for him at once!\"\r\n\r\nWithout waiting for the King's order the cuttlefish had already started\r\nfor the TAI'S dwelling, and he now returned, bringing the TAI with him.\r\nHe led him before the King.\r\n\r\nThe TAI sat there looking frightened and ill. He certainly was in pain,\r\nfor his usually red face was pale, and his eyes were nearly closed and\r\nlooked but half their usual size.\r\n\r\n\"Answer, O TAI!\" cried the Sea King, \"why did you not come in answer to\r\nmy summons today?\"\r\n\r\n\"I have been ill since yesterday,\" answered the TAI; \"that is why I\r\ncould not come.\"\r\n\r\n\"Don't say another word!\" cried out Ryn Jin angrily. \"Your illness is\r\nthe punishment of the gods for stealing the Mikoto's hook.\"\r\n\r\n\"It is only too true!\" said the TAI; \"the hook is still in my throat,\r\nand all my efforts to get it out have been useless. I can't eat, and I\r\ncan scarcely breathe, and each moment I feel that it will choke me, and\r\nsometimes it gives me great pain. I had no intention of stealing the\r\nMikoto's hook. I heedlessly snapped at the bait which I saw in the\r\nwater, and the hook came off and stuck in my throat. So I hope you will\r\npardon me.\"\r\n\r\nThe cuttlefish now came forward, and said to the King:\r\n\r\n\"What I said was right. You see the hook still sticks in the TAI'S\r\nthroat. I hope to be able to pull it out in the presence of the Mikoto,\r\nand then we can return it to him safely!\"\r\n\r\n\"O please make haste and pull it out!\" cried the TAI, pitifully, for he\r\nfelt the pains in his throat coming on again; \"I do so want to return\r\nthe hook to the Mikoto.\"\r\n\r\n\"All right, TAI SAN,\" said his friend the cuttlefish, and then opening\r\nthe TAI'S mouth as wide as he could and putting one of his feelers down\r\nthe TAI'S throat, he quickly and easily drew the hook out of the\r\nsufferer's large mouth. He then washed it and brought it to the King.\r\n\r\nRyn Jin took the hook from his subject, and then respectfully returned\r\nit to the Happy Hunter (the Mikoto or Augustness, the fishes called\r\nhim), who was overjoyed at getting back his hook. He thanked Ryn Jin\r\nmany times, his face beaming with gratitude, and said that he owed the\r\nhappy ending of his quest to the Sea King's wise authority and kindness.\r\n\r\nRyn Jin now desired to punish the TAI, but the Happy Hunter begged him\r\nnot to do so; since his lost hook was thus happily recovered he did not\r\nwish to make more trouble for the poor TAI. It was indeed the TAI who\r\nhad taken the hook, but he had already suffered enough for his fault,\r\nif fault it could be called. What had been done was done in\r\nheedlessness and not by intention. The Happy Hunter said he blamed\r\nhimself; if he had understood how to fish properly he would never have\r\nlost his hook, and therefore all this trouble had been caused in the\r\nfirst place by his trying to do something which he did not know how to\r\ndo. So he begged the Sea King to forgive his subject.\r\n\r\nWho could resist the pleading of so wise and compassionate a judge? Ryn\r\nJin forgave his subject at once at the request of his august guest. The\r\nTAI was so glad that he shook his fins for joy, and he and all the\r\nother fish went out from the presence of their King, praising the\r\nvirtues of the Happy Hunter.\r\n\r\nNow that the hook was found the Happy Hunter had nothing to keep him in\r\nRyn Gu, and he was anxious to get back to his own kingdom and to make\r\npeace with his angry brother, the Skillful Fisher; but the Sea King,\r\nwho had learnt to love him and would fain have kept him as a son,\r\nbegged him not to go so soon, but to make the Sea Palace his home as\r\nlong as ever he liked. While the Happy Hunter was still hesitating, the\r\ntwo lovely Princesses, Tayotama and Tamayori, came, and with the\r\nsweetest of bows and voices joined with their father in pressing him to\r\nstay, so that without seeming ungracious he could not say them \"Nay,\"\r\nand was obliged to stay on for some time.\r\n\r\nBetween the Sea Realm and the Earth there was no difference in the\r\nnight of time, and the Happy Hunter found that three years went\r\nfleeting quickly by in this delightful land. The years pass swiftly\r\nwhen any one is truly happy. But though the wonders of that enchanted\r\nland seemed to be new every day, and though the Sea King's kindness\r\nseemed rather to increase than to grow less with time, the Happy Hunter\r\ngrew more and more homesick as the days passed, and he could not\r\nrepress a great anxiety to know what had happened to his home and his\r\ncountry and his brother while he had been away.\r\n\r\nSo at last he went to the Sea King and said:\r\n\r\n\"My stay with you here has been most happy and I am very grateful to\r\nyou for all your kindness to me, but I govern Japan, and, delightful as\r\nthis place is, I cannot absent myself forever from my country. I must\r\nalso return the fishing hook to my brother and ask his forgiveness for\r\nhaving deprived him of it for so long. I am indeed very sorry to part\r\nfrom you, but this time it cannot be helped. With your gracious\r\npermission, I will take my leave to-day. I hope to make you another\r\nvisit some day. Please give up the idea of my staying longer now.\"\r\n\r\nKing Ryn Jin was overcome with sorrow at the thought that he must lose\r\nhis friend who had made a great diversion in the Palace of the Sea, and\r\nhis tears fell fast as he answered:\r\n\r\n\"We are indeed very sorry to part with you, Mikoto, for we have enjoyed\r\nyour stay with us very much. You have been a noble and honored guest\r\nand we have heartily made you welcome. I quite understand that as you\r\ngovern Japan you ought to be there and not here, and that it is vain\r\nfor us to try and keep you longer with us, much as we would like to\r\nhave you stay. I hope you will not forget us. Strange circumstances\r\nhave brought us together and I trust the friendship thus begun between\r\nthe Land and the Sea will last and grow stronger than it has ever been\r\nbefore.\"\r\n\r\nWhen the Sea King had finished speaking he turned to his two daughters\r\nand bade them bring him the two Tide-Jewels of the Sea. The two\r\nPrincesses bowed low, rose and glided out of the hall. In a few minutes\r\nthey returned, each one carrying in her hands a flashing gem which\r\nfilled the room with light. As the Happy Hunter looked at them he\r\nwondered what they could be. The Sea King took them from his daughters\r\nand said to his guest:\r\n\r\n\"These two valuable talismans we have inherited from our ancestors from\r\ntime immemorial. We now give them to you as a parting gift in token of\r\nour great affection for you. These two gems are called the nanjiu and\r\nthe kanjiu.\"\r\n\r\nThe Happy Hunter bowed low to the ground and said:\r\n\r\n\"I can never thank you enough for all your kindness to me. And now will\r\nyou add one more favor to the rest and tell me what these jewels are\r\nand what I am to do with them?\"\r\n\r\n\"The nanjiu,\" answered the Sea King, \"is also called the Jewel of the\r\nFlood Tide, and whoever holds it in his possession can command the sea\r\nto roll in and to flood the land at any time that he wills. The kanjiu\r\nis also called the Jewel of the Ebbing Tide, and this gem controls the\r\nsea and the waves thereof, and will cause even a tidal wave to recede.\"\r\n\r\nThen Ryn Jin showed his friend how to use the talismans one by one and\r\nhanded them to him. The Happy Hunter was very glad to have these two\r\nwonderful gems, the Jewel of the Flood Tide and the Jewel of the Ebbing\r\nTide, to take back with him, for he felt that they would preserve him\r\nin case of danger from enemies at any time. After thanking his kind\r\nhost again and again, he prepared to depart. The Sea King and the two\r\nPrincesses, Tayotama and Tamayori, and all the inmates of the Palace,\r\ncame out to say \"Good-by,\" and before the sound of the last farewell\r\nhad died away the Happy Hunter passed out from under the gateway, past\r\nthe well of happy memory standing in the shade of the great KATSURA\r\ntrees on his way to the beach.\r\n\r\nHere he found, instead of the queer basket on which he had come to the\r\nRealm of Ryn Gu, a large crocodile waiting for him. Never had he seen\r\nsuch a huge creature. It measured eight fathoms in length from the tip\r\nof its tail to the end of its long mouth. The Sea King had ordered the\r\nmonster to carry the Happy Hunter back to Japan. Like the wonderful\r\nbasket which Shiwozuchino Okina had made, it could travel faster than\r\nany steamboat, and in this strange way, riding on the back of a\r\ncrocodile, the Happy Hunter returned to his own land.\r\n\r\nAs soon as the crocodile landed him, the Happy Hunter hastened to tell\r\nthe Skillful Fisher of his safe return. He then gave him back the\r\nfishing hook which had been found in the mouth of the TAI and which had\r\nbeen the cause of so much trouble between them. He earnestly begged his\r\nbrother's forgiveness, telling him all that had happened to him in the\r\nSea King's Palace and what wonderful adventures had led to the finding\r\nof the hook.\r\n\r\nNow the Skillful Fisher had used the lost hook as an excuse for driving\r\nhis brother out of the country. When his brother had left him that day\r\nthree years ago, and had not returned, he had been very glad in his\r\nevil heart and had at once usurped his brother's place as ruler of the\r\nland, and had become powerful and rich. Now in the midst of enjoying\r\nwhat did not belong to him, and hoping that his brother might never\r\nreturn to claim his rights, quite unexpectedly there stood the Happy\r\nHunter before him.\r\n\r\nThe Skillful Fisher feigned forgiveness, for he could make no more\r\nexcuses for sending his brother away again, but in his heart he was\r\nvery angry and hated his brother more and more, till at last he could\r\nno longer bear the sight of him day after day, and planned and watched\r\nfor an opportunity to kill him.\r\n\r\nOne day when the Happy Hunter was walking in the rice fields his\r\nbrother followed him with a dagger. The Happy Hunter knew that his\r\nbrother was following him to kill him, and he felt that now, in this\r\nhour of great danger, was the time to use the Jewels of the Flow and\r\nEbb of the Tide and prove whether what the Sea King had told him was\r\ntrue or not.\r\n\r\nSo he took out the Jewel of the Flood Tide from the bosom of his dress\r\nand raised it to his forehead. Instantly over the fields and over the\r\nfarms the sea came rolling in wave upon wave till it reached the spot\r\nwhere his brother was standing. The Skillful Fisher stood amazed and\r\nterrified to see what was happening. In another minute he was\r\nstruggling in the water and calling on his brother to save him from\r\ndrowning.\r\n\r\nThe Happy Hunter had a kind heart and could not bear the sight of his\r\nbrother's distress. He at once put back the Jewel of the Flood Tide and\r\ntook out the Jewel of the Ebb Tide. No sooner did he hold it up as high\r\nas his forehead than the sea ran back and back, and ere long the\r\ntossing rolling floods had vanished, and the farms and fields and dry\r\nland appeared as before.\r\n\r\nThe Skillful Fisher was very frightened at the peril of death in which\r\nhe had stood, and was greatly impressed by the wonderful things he had\r\nseen his brother do. He learned now that he was making a fatal mistake\r\nto set himself against his brother, younger than he thought he was, for\r\nhe now had become so powerful that the sea would flow in and the tide\r\nebb at his word of command. So he humbled himself before the Happy\r\nHunter and asked him to forgive him all the wrong he had done him. The\r\nSkillful Fisher promised to restore his brother to his rights and also\r\nswore that though the Happy Hunter was the younger brother and owed him\r\nallegiance by right of birth, that he, the Skillful Fisher, would exalt\r\nhim as his superior and bow before him as Lord of all Japan.\r\n\r\nThen the Happy Hunter said that he would forgive his brother if he\r\nwould throw into the receding tide all his evil ways. The Skillful\r\nFisher promised and there was peace between the two brothers. From this\r\ntime he kept his word and became a good man and a kind brother.\r\n\r\nThe Happy Hunter now ruled his Kingdom without being disturbed by\r\nfamily strife, and there was peace in Japan for a long, long time.\r\nAbove all the treasures in his house he prized the wonderful Jewels of\r\nthe Flow and Ebb of the Tide which had been given him by Ryn Jin, the\r\nDragon King of the Sea.\r\n\r\nThis is the congratulatory ending of the Happy Hunter and the Skillful\r\nFisher.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE STORY OF THE OLD MAN WHO MADE WITHERED TREES TO FLOWER.\r\n\r\n\r\nLong, long ago there lived an old man and his wife who supported\r\nthemselves by cultivating a small plot of land. Their life had been a\r\nvery happy and peaceful one save for one great sorrow, and this was\r\nthey had no child. Their only pet was a dog named Shiro, and on him\r\nthey lavished all the affection of their old age. Indeed, they loved\r\nhim so much that whenever they had anything nice to eat they denied\r\nthemselves to give it to Shiro. Now Shiro means \"white,\" and he was so\r\ncalled because of his color. He was a real Japanese dog, and very like\r\na small wolf in appearance.\r\n\r\nThe happiest hour of the day both for the old man and his dog was when\r\nthe man returned from his work in the field, and having finished his\r\nfrugal supper of rice and vegetables, would take what he had saved from\r\nthe meal out to the little veranda that ran round the cottage. Sure\r\nenough, Shiro was waiting for his master and the evening tit-bit. Then\r\nthe old man said \"Chin, chin!\" and Shiro sat up and begged, and his\r\nmaster gave him the food. Next door to this good old couple there lived\r\nanother old man and his wife who were both wicked and cruel, and who\r\nhated their good neighbors and the dog Shiro with all their might.\r\nWhenever Shiro happened to look into their kitchen they at once kicked\r\nhim or threw something at him, sometimes even wounding him.\r\n\r\nOne day Shiro was heard barking for a long time in the field at the\r\nback of his master's house. The old man, thinking that perhaps some\r\nbirds were attacking the corn, hurried out to see what was the matter.\r\nAs soon as Shiro saw his master he ran to meet him, wagging his tail,\r\nand, seizing the end of his kimono, dragged him under a large yenoki\r\ntree. Here he began to dig very industriously with his paws, yelping\r\nwith joy all the time. The old man, unable to understand what it all\r\nmeant, stood looking on in bewilderment. But Shiro went on barking and\r\ndigging with all his might.\r\n\r\nThe thought that something might be hidden beneath the tree, and that\r\nthe dog had scented it, at last struck the old man. He ran back to the\r\nhouse, fetched his spade and began to dig the ground at that spot. What\r\nwas his astonishment when, after digging for some time, he came upon a\r\nheap of old and valuable coins, and the deeper he dug the more gold\r\ncoins did he find. So intent was the old man on his work that he never\r\nsaw the cross face of his neighbor peering at him through the bamboo\r\nhedge. At last all the gold coins lay shining on the ground. Shiro sat\r\nby erect with pride and looking fondly at his master as if to say, \"You\r\nsee, though only a dog, I can make some return for all the kindness you\r\nshow me.\"\r\n\r\nThe old man ran in to call his wife, and together they carried home the\r\ntreasure. Thus in one day the poor old man became rich. His gratitude\r\nto the faithful dog knew no bounds, and he loved and petted him more\r\nthan ever, if that were possible.\r\n\r\nThe cross old neighbor, attracted by Shiro's barking, had been an\r\nunseen and envious witness of the finding of the treasure. He began to\r\nthink that he, too, would like to find a fortune. So a few days later\r\nhe called at the old man's house and very ceremoniously asked\r\npermission to borrow Shiro for a short time.\r\n\r\nShiro's master thought this a strange request, because he knew quite\r\nwell that not only did his neighbor not love his pet dog, but that he\r\nnever lost an opportunity of striking and tormenting him whenever the\r\ndog crossed his path. But the good old man was too kind-hearted to\r\nrefuse his neighbor, so he consented to lend the dog on condition that\r\nhe should be taken great care of.\r\n\r\nThe wicked old man returned to his home with an evil smile on his face,\r\nand told his wife how he had succeeded in his crafty intentions. He\r\nthen took his spade and hastened to his own field, forcing the\r\nunwilling Shiro to follow him. As soon as he reached a yenoki tree, he\r\nsaid to the dog, threateningly:\r\n\r\n\"If there were gold coins under your master's tree, there must also be\r\ngold coins under my tree. You must find them for me! Where are they?\r\nWhere? Where?\"\r\n\r\nAnd catching hold of Shiro's neck he held the dog's head to the ground,\r\nso that Shiro began to scratch and dig in order to free himself from\r\nthe horrid old man's grasp.\r\n\r\nThe old man was very pleased when he saw the dog begin to scratch and\r\ndig, for he at once supposed that some gold coins lay buried under his\r\ntree as well as under his neighbor's, and that the dog had scented them\r\nas before; so pushing Shiro away he began to dig himself, but there was\r\nnothing to be found. As he went on digging a foul smell was noticeable,\r\nand he at last came upon a refuse heap.\r\n\r\nThe old man's disgust can be imagined. This soon gave way to anger. He\r\nhad seen his neighbor's good fortune, and hoping for the same luck\r\nhimself, he had borrowed the dog Shiro; and now, just as he seemed on\r\nthe point of finding what he sought, only a horrid smelling refuse heap\r\nhad rewarded him for a morning's digging. Instead of blaming his own\r\ngreed for his disappointment, he blamed the poor dog. He seized his\r\nspade, and with all his strength struck Shiro and killed him on the\r\nspot. He then threw the dog's body into the hole which he had dug in\r\nthe hope of finding a treasure of gold coins, and covered it over with\r\nthe earth. Then he returned to the house, telling no one, not even his\r\nwife, what he had done.\r\n\r\nAfter waiting several days, as the dog Shiro did not return, his master\r\nbegan to grow anxious. Day after day went by and the good old man\r\nwaited in vain. Then he went to his neighbor and asked him to give him\r\nback his dog. Without any shame or hesitation, the wicked neighbor\r\nanswered that he had killed Shiro because of his bad behavior. At this\r\ndreadful news Shiro's master wept many sad and bitter tears. Great\r\nindeed, was his woful surprise, but he was too good and gentle to\r\nreproach his bad neighbor. Learning that Shiro was buried under the\r\nyenoki tree in the field, he asked the old man to give him the tree, in\r\nremembrance of his poor dog Shiro.\r\n\r\nEven the cross old neighbor could not refuse such a simple request, so\r\nhe consented to give the old man the tree under which Shiro lay buried.\r\nShiro's master then cut the tree down and carried it home. Out of the\r\ntrunk he made a mortar. In this his wife put some rice, and he began to\r\npound it with the intention of making a festival to the memory of his\r\ndog Shiro.\r\n\r\nA strange thing happened! His wife put the rice into the mortar, and no\r\nsooner had he begun to pound it to make the cakes, than it began to\r\nincrease in quantity gradually till it was about five times the\r\noriginal amount, and the cakes were turned out of the mortar as if an\r\ninvisible hand were at work.\r\n\r\nWhen the old man and his wife saw this, they understood that it was a\r\nreward to them from Shiro for their faithful love to him. They tasted\r\nthe cakes and found them nicer than any other food. So from this time\r\nthey never troubled about food, for they lived upon the cakes with\r\nwhich the mortar never ceased to supply them.\r\n\r\nThe greedy neighbor, hearing of this new piece of good luck, was filled\r\nwith envy as before, and called on the old man and asked leave to\r\nborrow the wonderful mortar for a short time, pretending that he, too,\r\nsorrowed for the death of Shiro, and wished to make cakes for a\r\nfestival to the dog's memory.\r\n\r\nThe old man did not in the least wish to lend it to his cruel neighbor,\r\nbut he was too kind to refuse. So the envious man carried home the\r\nmortar, but he never brought it back.\r\n\r\nSeveral days passed, and Shiro's master waited in vain for the mortar,\r\nso he went to call on the borrower, and asked him to be good enough to\r\nreturn the mortar if he had finished with it. He found him sitting by a\r\nbig fire made of pieces of wood. On the ground lay what looked very\r\nmuch like pieces of a broken mortar. In answer to the old man's\r\ninquiry, the wicked neighbor answered haughtily:\r\n\r\n\"Have you come to ask me for your mortar? I broke it to pieces, and now\r\nI am making a fire of the wood, for when I tried to pound cakes in it\r\nonly some horrid smelling stuff came out.\"\r\n\r\nThe good old man said:\r\n\r\n\"I am very sorry for that. It is a great pity you did not ask me for\r\nthe cakes if you wanted them. I would have given you as many as ever\r\nyou wanted. Now please give me the ashes of the mortar, as I wish to\r\nkeep them in remembrance of my dog.\"\r\n\r\nThe neighbor consented at once, and the old man carried home a basket\r\nfull of ashes.\r\n\r\nNot long after this the old man accidentally scattered some of the\r\nashes made by the burning of the mortar on the trees of his garden. A\r\nwonderful thing happened!\r\n\r\nIt was late in autumn and all the trees had shed their leaves, but no\r\nsooner did the ashes touch their branches than the cherry trees, the\r\nplum trees, and all other blossoming shrubs burst into bloom, so that\r\nthe old man's garden was suddenly transformed into a beautiful picture\r\nof spring. The old man's delight knew no bounds, and he carefully\r\npreserved the remaining ashes.\r\n\r\nThe story of the old man's garden spread far and wide, and people from\r\nfar and near came to see the wonderful sight.\r\n\r\nOne day, soon after this, the old man heard some one knocking at his\r\ndoor, and going to the porch to see who it was he was surprised to see\r\na Knight standing there. This Knight told him that he was a retainer of\r\na great Daimio (Earl); that one of the favorite cherry trees in this\r\nnobleman's garden had withered, and that though every one in his\r\nservice had tried all manner of means to revive it, none took effect.\r\nThe Knight was sore perplexed when he saw what great displeasure the\r\nloss of his favorite cherry tree caused the Daimio. At this point,\r\nfortunately, they had heard that there was a wonderful old man who\r\ncould make withered trees to blossom, and that his Lord had sent him to\r\nask the old man to come to him.\r\n\r\n\"And,\" added the Knight, \"I shall be very much obliged if you will come\r\nat once.\"\r\n\r\nThe good old man was greatly surprised at what he heard, but\r\nrespectfully followed the Knight to the nobleman's Palace.\r\n\r\nThe Daimio, who had been impatiently awaiting the old man's coming, as\r\nsoon as he saw him asked him at once:\r\n\r\n\"Are you the old man who can make withered trees flower even out of\r\nseason?\"\r\n\r\nThe old man made an obeisance, and replied:\r\n\r\n\"I am that old man!\"\r\n\r\nThen the Daimio said:\r\n\r\n\"You must make that dead cherry tree in my garden blossom again by\r\nmeans of your famous ashes. I shall look on.\"\r\n\r\nThen they all went into the garden--the Daimio and his retainers and\r\nthe ladies-in waiting, who carried the Daimio's sword.\r\n\r\nThe old man now tucked up his kimono and made ready to climb the tree.\r\nSaying \"Excuse me,\" he took the pot of ashes which he had brought with\r\nhim, and began to climb the tree, every one watching his movements with\r\ngreat interest.\r\n\r\nAt last he climbed to the spot where the tree divided into two great\r\nbranches, and taking up his position here, the old man sat down and\r\nscattered the ashes right and left all over the branches and twigs.\r\n\r\nWonderful, indeed, was the result! The withered tree at once burst into\r\nfull bloom! The Daimio was so transported with joy that he looked as if\r\nhe would go mad. He rose to his feet and spread out his fan, calling\r\nthe old man down from the tree. He himself gave the old man a wine cup\r\nfilled with the best SAKE, and rewarded him with much silver and gold\r\nand many other precious things. The Daimio ordered that henceforth the\r\nold man should call himself by the name of Hana-Saka-Jijii, or \"The Old\r\nMan who makes the Trees to Blossom,\" and that henceforth all were to\r\nrecognize him by this name, and he sent him home with great honor.\r\n\r\nThe wicked neighbor, as before, heard of the good old man's fortune,\r\nand of all that had so auspiciously befallen him, and he could not\r\nsuppress all the envy and jealousy that filled his heart. He called to\r\nmind how he had failed in his attempt to find the gold coins, and then\r\nin making the magic cakes; this time surely he must succeed if he\r\nimitated the old man, who made withered trees to flower simply by\r\nsprinkling ashes on them. This would be the simplest task of all.\r\n\r\nSo he set to work and gathered together all the ashes which remained in\r\nthe fire-place from the burning of the wonderful mortar. Then he set\r\nout in the hope of finding some great man to employ him, calling out\r\nloudly as he went along:\r\n\r\n\"Here comes the wonderful man who can make withered trees blossom! Here\r\ncomes the old man who can make dead trees blossom!\"\r\n\r\nThe Daimio in his Palace heard this cry, and said:\r\n\r\n\"That must be the Hana-Saka-Jijii passing. I have nothing to do to-day.\r\nLet him try his art again; it will amuse me to look on.\"\r\n\r\nSo the retainers went out and brought in the impostor before their\r\nLord. The satisfaction of false old man can now be imagined.\r\n\r\nBut the Daimio looking at him, thought it strange that he was not at\r\nall like the old man he had seen before, so he asked him:\r\n\r\n\"Are you the man whom I named Hana-Saka-Jijii?\"\r\n\r\nAnd the envious neighbor answered with a lie:\r\n\r\n\"Yes, my Lord!\"\r\n\r\n\"That is strange!\" said the Daimio. \"I thought there was only one\r\nHana-Saka-Jijii in the world! Has he now some disciples?\"\r\n\r\n\"I am the true Hana-Saka-Jijii. The one who came to you before was only\r\nmy disciple!\" replied the old man again.\r\n\r\n\"Then you must be more skillful than the other. Try what you can do and\r\nlet me see!\"\r\n\r\nThe envious neighbor, with the Daimio and his Court following, then\r\nwent into the garden, and approaching a dead tree, took out a handful\r\nof the ashes which he carried with him, and scattered them over the\r\ntree.\r\n\r\nBut not only did the tree not burst into flower, but not even a bud\r\ncame forth. Thinking that he had not used enough ashes, the old man\r\ntook handfuls and again sprinkled them over the withered tree. But all\r\nto no effect. After trying several times, the ashes were blown into the\r\nDaimio's eyes. This made him very angry, and he ordered his retainers\r\nto arrest the false Hana-Saka-Jijii at once and put him in prison for\r\nan impostor. From this imprisonment the wicked old man was never freed.\r\nThus did he meet with punishment at last for all his evil doings.\r\n\r\nThe good old man, however, with the treasure of gold coins which Shiro\r\nhad found for him, and with all the gold and the silver which the\r\nDaimio had showered on him, became a rich and prosperous man in his old\r\nage, and lived a long and happy life, beloved and respected by all.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE JELLY FISH AND THE MONKEY.\r\n\r\n\r\nLong, long ago, in old Japan, the Kingdom of the Sea was governed by a\r\nwonderful King. He was called Rin Jin, or the Dragon King of the Sea.\r\nHis power was immense, for he was the ruler of all sea creatures both\r\ngreat and small, and in his keeping were the Jewels of the Ebb and Flow\r\nof the Tide. The Jewel of the Ebbing Tide when thrown into the ocean\r\ncaused the sea to recede from the land, and the Jewel of the Flowing\r\nTide made the waves to rise mountains high and to flow in upon the\r\nshore like a tidal wave.\r\n\r\nThe Palace of Rin Jin was at the bottom of the sea, and was so\r\nbeautiful that no one has ever seen anything like it even in dreams.\r\nThe walls were of coral, the roof of jadestone and chrysoprase, and the\r\nfloors were of the finest mother-of-pearl. But the Dragon King, in\r\nspite of his wide-spreading Kingdom, his beautiful Palace and all its\r\nwonders, and his power which none disputed throughout the whole sea,\r\nwas not at all happy, for he reigned alone. At last he thought that if\r\nhe married he would not only be happier, but also more powerful. So he\r\ndecided to take a wife. Calling all his fish retainers together, he\r\nchose several of them as ambassadors to go through the sea and seek for\r\na young Dragon Princess who would be his bride.\r\n\r\nAt last they returned to the Palace bringing with them a lovely young\r\ndragon. Her scales were of glittering green like the wings of summer\r\nbeetles, her eyes threw out glances of fire, and she was dressed in\r\ngorgeous robes. All the jewels of the sea worked in with embroidery\r\nadorned them.\r\n\r\nThe King fell in love with her at once, and the wedding ceremony was\r\ncelebrated with great splendor. Every living thing in the sea, from the\r\ngreat whales down to the little shrimps, came in shoals to offer their\r\ncongratulations to the bride and bridegroom and to wish them a long and\r\nprosperous life. Never had there been such an assemblage or such gay\r\nfestivities in the Fish-World before. The train of bearers who carried\r\nthe bride's possessions to her new home seemed to reach across the\r\nwaves from one end of the sea to the other. Each fish carried a\r\nphosphorescent lantern and was dressed in ceremonial robes, gleaming\r\nblue and pink and silver; and the waves as they rose and fell and broke\r\nthat night seemed to be rolling masses of white and green fire, for the\r\nphosphorus shone with double brilliancy in honor of the event.\r\n\r\nNow for a time the Dragon King and his bride lived very happily. They\r\nloved each other dearly, and the bridegroom day after day took delight\r\nin showing his bride all the wonders and treasures of his coral Palace,\r\nand she was never tired of wandering with him through its vast halls\r\nand gardens. Life seemed to them both like a long summer's day.\r\n\r\nTwo months passed in this happy way, and then the Dragon Queen fell ill\r\nand was obliged to stay in bed. The King was sorely troubled when he\r\nsaw his precious bride so ill, and at once sent for the fish doctor to\r\ncome and give her some medicine. He gave special orders to the servants\r\nto nurse her carefully and to wait upon her with diligence, but in\r\nspite of all the nurses' assiduous care and the medicine that the\r\ndoctor prescribed, the young Queen showed no signs of recovery, but\r\ngrew daily worse.\r\n\r\nThen the Dragon King interviewed the doctor and blamed him for not\r\ncuring the Queen. The doctor was alarmed at Rin Jin's evident\r\ndispleasure, and excused his want of skill by saying that although he\r\nknew the right kind of medicine to give the invalid, it was impossible\r\nto find it in the sea.\r\n\r\n\"Do you mean to tell me that you can't get the medicine here?\" asked\r\nthe Dragon King.\r\n\r\n\"It is just as you say!\" said the doctor.\r\n\r\n\"Tell me what it is you want for the Queen?\" demanded Rin Jin.\r\n\r\n\"I want the liver of a live monkey!\" answered the doctor.\r\n\r\n\"The liver of a live monkey! Of course that will be most difficult to\r\nget,\" said the King.\r\n\r\n\"If we could only get that for the Queen, Her Majesty would soon\r\nrecover,\" said the doctor.\r\n\r\n\"Very well, that decides it; we MUST get it somehow or other. But where\r\nare we most likely to find a monkey?\" asked the King.\r\n\r\nThen the doctor told the Dragon King that some distance to the south\r\nthere was a Monkey Island where a great many monkeys lived.\r\n\r\n\"If only you could capture one of these monkeys?\" said the doctor.\r\n\r\n\"How can any of my people capture a monkey?\" said the Dragon King,\r\ngreatly puzzled. \"The monkeys live on dry land, while we live in the\r\nwater; and out of our element we are quite powerless! I don't see what\r\nwe can do!\"\r\n\r\n\"That has been my difficulty too,\" said the doctor. \"But amongst your\r\ninnumerable servants you surely can find one who can go on shore for\r\nthat express purpose!\"\r\n\r\n\"Something must be done,\" said the King, and calling his chief steward\r\nhe consulted him on the matter.\r\n\r\nThe chief steward thought for some time, and then, as if struck by a\r\nsudden thought, said joyfully:\r\n\r\n\"I know what we must do! There is the kurage (jelly fish). He is\r\ncertainly ugly to look at, but he is proud of being able to walk on\r\nland with his four legs like a tortoise. Let us send him to the Island\r\nof Monkeys to catch one.\"\r\n\r\nThe jelly fish was then summoned to the King's presence, and was told\r\nby His Majesty what was required of him.\r\n\r\nThe jelly fish, on being told of the unexpected mission which was to be\r\nintrusted to him, looked very troubled, and said that he had never been\r\nto the island in question, and as he had never had any experience in\r\ncatching monkeys he was afraid that he would not be able to get one.\r\n\r\n\"Well,\" said the chief steward, \"if you depend on your strength or\r\ndexterity you will never catch a monkey. The only way is to play a\r\ntrick on one!\"\r\n\r\n\"How can I play a trick on a monkey? I don't know how to do it,\" said\r\nthe perplexed jelly fish.\r\n\r\n\"This is what you must do,\" said the wily chief steward. \"When you\r\napproach the Island of Monkeys and meet some of them, you must try to\r\nget very friendly with one. Tell him that you are a servant of the\r\nDragon King, and invite him to come and visit you and see the Dragon\r\nKing's Palace. Try and describe to him as vividly as you can the\r\ngrandeur of the Palace and the wonders of the sea so as to arouse his\r\ncuriosity and make him long to see it all!\"\r\n\r\n\"But how am I to get the monkey here? You know monkeys don't swim?\"\r\nsaid the reluctant jelly fish.\r\n\r\n\"You must carry him on your back. What is the use of your shell if you\r\ncan't do that!\" said the chief steward.\r\n\r\n\"Won't he be very heavy?\" queried kurage again.\r\n\r\n\"You mustn't mind that, for you are working for the Dragon King,\"\r\nreplied the chief steward.\r\n\r\n\"I will do my best then,\" said the jelly fish, and he swam away from\r\nthe Palace and started off towards the Monkey Island. Swimming swiftly\r\nhe reached his destination in a few hours, and landed by a convenient\r\nwave upon the shore. On looking round he saw not far away a big\r\npine-tree with drooping branches and on one of those branches was just\r\nwhat he was looking for--a live monkey.\r\n\r\n\"I'm in luck!\" thought the jelly fish. \"Now I must flatter the creature\r\nand try to entice him to come back with me to the Palace, and my part\r\nwill be done!\"\r\n\r\nSo the jelly fish slowly walked towards the pine-tree. In those ancient\r\ndays the jelly fish had four legs and a hard shell like a tortoise.\r\nWhen he got to the pine-tree he raised his voice and said:\r\n\r\n\"How do you do, Mr. Monkey? Isn't it a lovely day?\"\r\n\r\n\"A very fine day,\" answered the monkey from the tree. \"I have never\r\nseen you in this part of the world before. Where have you come from and\r\nwhat is your name?\"\r\n\r\n\"My name is kurage or jelly fish. I am one of the servants of the\r\nDragon King. I have heard so much of your beautiful island that I have\r\ncome on purpose to see it,\" answered the jelly fish.\r\n\r\n\"I am very glad to see you,\" said the monkey.\r\n\r\n\"By the bye,\" said the jelly fish, \"have you ever seen the Palace of\r\nthe Dragon King of the Sea where I live?\"\r\n\r\n\"I have often heard of it, but I have never seen it!\" answered the\r\nmonkey.\r\n\r\n\"Then you ought most surely to come. It is a great pity for you to go\r\nthrough life without seeing it. The beauty of the Palace is beyond all\r\ndescription--it is certainly to my mind the most lovely place in the\r\nworld,\" said the jelly fish.\r\n\r\n\"Is it so beautiful as all that?\" asked the monkey in astonishment.\r\n\r\nThen the jelly fish saw his chance, and went on describing to the best\r\nof his ability the beauty and grandeur of the Sea King's Palace, and\r\nthe wonders of the garden with its curious trees of white, pink and red\r\ncoral, and the still more curious fruits like great jewels hanging on\r\nthe branches. The monkey grew more and more interested, and as he\r\nlistened he came down the tree step by step so as not to lose a word of\r\nthe wonderful story.\r\n\r\n\"I have got him at last!\" thought the jelly fish, but aloud he said:\r\n\r\n\"Mr. Monkey. I must now go back. As you have never seen the Palace of\r\nthe Dragon King, won't you avail yourself of this splendid opportunity\r\nby coming with me? I shall then be able to act as guide and show you\r\nall the sights of the sea, which will be even more wonderful to you--a\r\nland-lubber.\"\r\n\r\n\"I should love to go,\" said the monkey, \"but how am I to cross the\r\nwater! I can't swim, as you surely know!\"\r\n\r\n\"There is no difficulty about that. I can carry you on my back.\"\r\n\r\n\"That will be troubling you too much,\" said the monkey.\r\n\r\n\"I can do it quite easily. I am stronger than I look, so you needn't\r\nhesitate,\" said the jelly fish, and taking the monkey on his back he\r\nstepped into the sea.\r\n\r\n\"Keep very still, Mr. monkey,\" said the jelly fish. \"You mustn't fall\r\ninto the sea; I am responsible for your safe arrival at the King's\r\nPalace.\"\r\n\r\n\"Please don't go so fast, or I am sure I shall fall off,\" said the\r\nmonkey.\r\n\r\nThus they went along, the jelly fish skimming through the waves with\r\nthe monkey sitting on his back. When they were about half-way, the\r\njelly fish, who knew very little of anatomy, began to wonder if the\r\nmonkey had his liver with him or not!\r\n\r\n\"Mr. Monkey, tell me, have you such a thing as a liver with you?\"\r\n\r\nThe monkey was very much surprised at this queer question, and asked\r\nwhat the jelly fish wanted with a liver.\r\n\r\n\"That is the most important thing of all,\" said the stupid jelly fish,\r\n\"so as soon as I recollected it, I asked you if you had yours with you?\"\r\n\r\n\"Why is my liver so important to you?\" asked the monkey.\r\n\r\n\"Oh! you will learn the reason later,\" said the jelly fish.\r\n\r\nThe monkey grew more and more curious and suspicious, and urged the\r\njelly fish to tell him for what his liver was wanted, and ended up by\r\nappealing to his hearer's feelings by saying that he was very troubled\r\nat what he had been told.\r\n\r\nThen the jelly fish, seeing how anxious the monkey looked, was sorry\r\nfor him, and told him everything. How the Dragon Queen had fallen ill,\r\nand how the doctor had said that only the liver of a live monkey would\r\ncure her, and how the Dragon King had sent him to find one.\r\n\r\n\"Now I have done as I was told, and as soon as we arrive at the Palace\r\nthe doctor will want your liver, so I feel sorry for you!\" said the\r\nsilly jelly fish.\r\n\r\nThe poor monkey was horrified when he learnt all this, and very angry\r\nat the trick played upon him. He trembled with fear at the thought of\r\nwhat was in store for him.\r\n\r\nBut the monkey was a clever animal, and he thought it the wisest plan\r\nnot to show any sign of the fear he felt, so he tried to calm himself\r\nand to think of some way by which he might escape.\r\n\r\n\"The doctor means to cut me open and then take my liver out! Why I\r\nshall die!\" thought the monkey. At last a bright thought struck him, so\r\nhe said quite cheerfully to the jelly fish:\r\n\r\n\"What a pity it was, Mr. Jelly Fish, that you did not speak of this\r\nbefore we left the island!\"\r\n\r\n\"If I had told why I wanted you to accompany me you would certainly\r\nhave refused to come,\" answered the jelly fish.\r\n\r\n\"You are quite mistaken,\" said the monkey. \"Monkeys can very well spare\r\na liver or two, especially when it is wanted for the Dragon Queen of\r\nthe Sea. If I had only guessed of what you were in need. I should have\r\npresented you with one without waiting to be asked. I have several\r\nlivers. But the greatest pity is, that as you did not speak in time, I\r\nhave left all my livers hanging on the pine-tree.\"\r\n\r\n\"Have you left your liver behind you?\" asked the jelly fish.\r\n\r\n\"Yes,\" said the cunning monkey, \"during the daytime I usually leave my\r\nliver hanging up on the branch of a tree, as it is very much in the way\r\nwhen I am climbing about from tree to tree. To-day, listening to your\r\ninteresting conversation, I quite forgot it, and left it behind when I\r\ncame off with you. If only you had spoken in time I should have\r\nremembered it, and should have brought it along with me!\"\r\n\r\nThe jelly fish was very disappointed when he heard this, for he\r\nbelieved every word the monkey said. The monkey was of no good without\r\na liver. Finally the jelly fish stopped and told the monkey so.\r\n\r\n\"Well,\" said the monkey, \"that is soon remedied. I am really sorry to\r\nthink of all your trouble; but if you will only take me back to the\r\nplace where you found me, I shall soon be able to get my liver.\"\r\n\r\nThe jelly fish did not at all like the idea of going all the way back\r\nto the island again; but the monkey assured him that if he would be so\r\nkind as to take him back he would get his very best liver, and bring it\r\nwith him the next time. Thus persuaded, the jelly fish turned his\r\ncourse towards the Monkey Island once more.\r\n\r\nNo sooner had the jelly fish reached the shore than the sly monkey\r\nlanded, and getting up into the pine-tree where the jelly fish had\r\nfirst seen him, he cut several capers amongst the branches with joy at\r\nbeing safe home again, and then looking down at the jelly fish said:\r\n\r\n\"So many thanks for all the trouble you have taken! Please present my\r\ncompliments to the Dragon King on your return!\"\r\n\r\nThe jelly fish wondered at this speech and the mocking tone in which it\r\nwas uttered. Then he asked the monkey if it wasn't his intention to\r\ncome with him at once after getting his liver.\r\n\r\nThe monkey replied laughingly that he couldn't afford to lose his\r\nliver: it was too precious.\r\n\r\n\"But remember your promise!\" pleaded the jelly fish, now very\r\ndiscouraged.\r\n\r\n\"That promise was false, and anyhow it is now broken!\" answered the\r\nmonkey. Then he began to jeer at the jelly fish and told him that he\r\nhad been deceiving him the whole time; that he had no wish to lose his\r\nlife, which he certainly would have done had he gone on to the Sea\r\nKing's Palace to the old doctor waiting for him, instead of persuading\r\nthe jelly fish to return under false pretenses.\r\n\r\n\"Of course, I won't GIVE you my liver, but come and get it if you can!\"\r\nadded the monkey mockingly from the tree.\r\n\r\nThere was nothing for the jelly fish to do now but to repent of his\r\nstupidity, and to return to the Dragon King of the Sea and to confess\r\nhis failure, so he started sadly and slowly to swim back. The last\r\nthing he heard as he glided away, leaving the island behind him, was\r\nthe monkey laughing at him.\r\n\r\nMeanwhile the Dragon King, the doctor, the chief steward, and all the\r\nservants were waiting impatiently for the return of the jelly fish.\r\nWhen they caught sight of him approaching the Palace, they hailed him\r\nwith delight. They began to thank him profusely for all the trouble he\r\nhad taken in going to Monkey Island, and then they asked him where the\r\nmonkey was.\r\n\r\nNow the day of reckoning had come for the jelly fish. He quaked all\r\nover as he told his story. How he had brought the monkey halfway over\r\nthe sea, and then had stupidly let out the secret of his commission;\r\nhow the monkey had deceived him by making him believe that he had left\r\nhis liver behind him.\r\n\r\nThe Dragon King's wrath was great, and he at once gave orders that the\r\njelly fish was to be severely punished. The punishment was a horrible\r\none. All the bones were to be drawn out from his living body, and he\r\nwas to be beaten with sticks.\r\n\r\nThe poor jelly fish, humiliated and horrified beyond all words, cried\r\nout for pardon. But the Dragon King's order had to be obeyed. The\r\nservants of the Palace forthwith each brought out a stick and\r\nsurrounded the jelly fish, and after pulling out his bones they beat\r\nhim to a flat pulp, and then took him out beyond the Palace gates and\r\nthrew him into the water. Here he was left to suffer and repent his\r\nfoolish chattering, and to grow accustomed to his new state of\r\nbonelessness.\r\n\r\nFrom this story it is evident that in former times the jelly fish once\r\nhad a shell and bones something like a tortoise, but, ever since the\r\nDragon King's sentence was carried out on the ancestor of the jelly\r\nfishes, his descendants have all been soft and boneless just as you see\r\nthem to-day thrown up by the waves high upon the shores of Japan.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE QUARREL OF THE MONKEY AND THE CRAB.\r\n\r\n\r\nLong, long ago, one bright autumn day in Japan, it happened, that a\r\npink-faced monkey and a yellow crab were playing together along the\r\nbank of a river. As they were running about, the crab found a\r\nrice-dumpling and the monkey a persimmon-seed.\r\n\r\nThe crab picked up the rice-dumpling and showed it to the monkey,\r\nsaying:\r\n\r\n\"Look what a nice thing I have found!\"\r\n\r\nThen the monkey held up his persimmon-seed and said:\r\n\r\n\"I also have found something good! Look!\"\r\n\r\nNow though the monkey is always very fond of persimmon fruit, he had no\r\nuse for the seed he had just found. The persimmon-seed is as hard and\r\nuneatable as a stone. He, therefore, in his greedy nature, felt very\r\nenvious of the crab's nice dumpling, and he proposed an exchange. The\r\ncrab naturally did not see why he should give up his prize for a hard\r\nstone-like seed, and would not consent to the monkey's proposition.\r\n\r\nThen the cunning monkey began to persuade the crab, saying:\r\n\r\n\"How unwise you are not to think of the future! Your rice-dumpling can\r\nbe eaten now, and is certainly much bigger than my seed; but if you sow\r\nthis seed in the ground it will soon grow and become a great tree in a\r\nfew years, and bear an abundance of fine ripe persimmons year after\r\nyear. If only I could show it to you then with the yellow fruit hanging\r\non its branches! Of course, if you don't believe me I shall sow it\r\nmyself; though I am sure, later on, you will be very sorry that you did\r\nnot take my advice.\"\r\n\r\nThe simple-minded crab could not resist the monkey's clever persuasion.\r\nHe at last gave in and consented to the monkey's proposal, and the\r\nexchange was made. The greedy monkey soon gobbled up the dumpling, and\r\nwith great reluctance gave up the persimmon-seed to the crab. He would\r\nhave liked to keep that too, but he was afraid of making the crab angry\r\nand of being pinched by his sharp scissor-like claws. They then\r\nseparated, the monkey going home to his forest trees and the crab to\r\nhis stones along the river-side. As soon as the crab reached home he\r\nput the persimmon-seed in the ground as the monkey had told him.\r\n\r\nIn the following spring the crab was delighted to see the shoot of a\r\nyoung tree push its way up through the ground. Each year it grew\r\nbigger, till at last it blossomed one spring, and in the following\r\nautumn bore some fine large persimmons. Among the broad smooth green\r\nleaves the fruit hung like golden balls, and as they ripened they\r\nmellowed to a deep orange. It was the little crab's pleasure to go out\r\nday by day and sit in the sun and put out his long eyes in the same way\r\nas a snail puts out its horn, and watch the persimmons ripening to\r\nperfection.\r\n\r\n\"How delicious they will be to eat!\" he said to himself.\r\n\r\nAt last, one day, he knew the persimmons must be quite ripe and he\r\nwanted very much to taste one. He made several attempts to climb the\r\ntree, in the vain hope of reaching one of the beautiful persimmons\r\nhanging above him; but he failed each time, for a crab's legs are not\r\nmade for climbing trees but only for running along the ground and over\r\nstones, both of which he can do most cleverly. In his dilemma he\r\nthought of his old playmate the monkey, who, he knew, could climb trees\r\nbetter than any one else in the world. He determined to ask the monkey\r\nto help him, and set out to find him.\r\n\r\nRunning crab-fashion up the stony river bank, over the pathways into\r\nthe shadowy forest, the crab at last found the monkey taking an\r\nafternoon nap in his favorite pine-tree, with his tail curled tight\r\naround a branch to prevent him from falling off in his dreams. He was\r\nsoon wide awake, however, when he heard himself called, and eagerly\r\nlistening to what the crab told him. When he heard that the seed which\r\nhe had long ago exchanged for a rice-dumpling had grown into a tree and\r\nwas now bearing good fruit, he was delighted, for he at once devised a\r\ncunning plan which would give him all the persimmons for himself.\r\n\r\nHe consented to go with the crab to pick the fruit for him. When they\r\nboth reached the spot, the monkey was astonished to see what a fine\r\ntree had sprung from the seed, and with what a number of ripe\r\npersimmons the branches were loaded.\r\n\r\nHe quickly climbed the tree and began to pluck and eat, as fast as he\r\ncould, one persimmon after another. Each time he chose the best and\r\nripest he could find, and went on eating till he could eat no more. Not\r\none would he give to the poor hungry crab waiting below, and when he\r\nhad finished there was little but the hard, unripe fruit left.\r\n\r\nYou can imagine the feelings of the poor crab after waiting patiently,\r\nfor so long as he had done, for the tree to grow and the fruit to\r\nripen, when he saw the monkey devouring all the good persimmons. He was\r\nso disappointed that he ran round and round the tree calling to the\r\nmonkey to remember his promise. The monkey at first took no notice of\r\nthe crab's complaints, but at last he picked out the hardest, greenest\r\npersimmon he could find and aimed it at the crab's head. The persimmon\r\nis as hard as stone when it is unripe. The monkey's missile struck home\r\nand the crab was sorely hurt by the blow. Again and again, as fast as\r\nhe could pick them, the monkey pulled off the hard persimmons and threw\r\nthem at the defenseless crab till he dropped dead, covered with wounds\r\nall over his body. There he lay a pitiful sight at the foot of the tree\r\nhe had himself planted.\r\n\r\nWhen the wicked monkey saw that he had killed the crab he ran away from\r\nthe spot as fast as he could, in fear and trembling, like a coward as\r\nhe was.\r\n\r\nNow the crab had a son who had been playing with a friend not far from\r\nthe spot where this sad work had taken place. On the way home he came\r\nacross his father dead, in a most dreadful condition--his head was\r\nsmashed and his shell broken in several places, and around his body lay\r\nthe unripe persimmons which had done their deadly work. At this\r\ndreadful sight the poor young crab sat down and wept.\r\n\r\nBut when he had wept for some time he told himself that this crying\r\nwould do no good; it was his duty to avenge his father's murder, and\r\nthis he determined to do. He looked about for some clue which would\r\nlead him to discover the murderer. Looking up at the tree he noticed\r\nthat the best fruit had gone, and that all around lay bits of peel and\r\nnumerous seeds strewn on the ground as well as the unripe persimmons\r\nwhich had evidently been thrown at his father. Then he understood that\r\nthe monkey was the murderer, for he now remembered that his father had\r\nonce told him the story of the rice-dumpling and the persimmon-seed.\r\nThe young crab knew that monkeys liked persimmons above all other\r\nfruit, and he felt sure that his greed for the coveted fruit had been\r\nthe cause of the old crab's death. Alas!\r\n\r\nHe at first thought of going to attack the monkey at once, for he\r\nburned with rage. Second thoughts, however, told him that this was\r\nuseless, for the monkey was an old and cunning animal and would be hard\r\nto overcome. He must meet cunning with cunning and ask some of his\r\nfriends to help him, for he knew it would be quite out of his power to\r\nkill him alone.\r\n\r\nThe young crab set out at once to call on the mortar, his father's old\r\nfriend, and told him of all that had happened. He besought the mortar\r\nwith tears to help him avenge his father's death. The mortar was very\r\nsorry when he heard the woful tale and promised at once to help the\r\nyoung crab punish the monkey to death. He warned him that he must be\r\nvery careful in what he did, for the monkey was a strong and cunning\r\nenemy. The mortar now sent to fetch the bee and the chestnut (also the\r\ncrab's old friends) to consult them about the matter. In a short time\r\nthe bee and the chestnut arrived. When they were told all the details\r\nof the old crab's death and of the monkey's wickedness and greed, they\r\nboth gladly consented to help the young crab in his revenge.\r\n\r\nAfter talking for a long time as to the ways and means of carrying out\r\ntheir plans they separated, and Mr. Mortar went home with the young\r\ncrab to help him bury his poor father.\r\n\r\nWhile all this was taking place the monkey was congratulating himself\r\n(as the wicked often do before their punishment comes upon them) on all\r\nhe had done so neatly. He thought it quite a fine thing that he had\r\nrobbed his friend of all his ripe persimmons and then that he had\r\nkilled him. Still, smile as hard as he might, he could not banish\r\naltogether the fear of the consequences should his evil deeds be\r\ndiscovered. IF he were found out (and he told himself that this could\r\nnot be for he had escaped unseen) the crab's family would be sure to\r\nbear him hatred and seek to take revenge on him. So he would not go\r\nout, and kept himself at home for several days. He found this kind of\r\nlife, however, extremely dull, accustomed as he was to the free life of\r\nthe woods, and at last he said:\r\n\r\n\"No one knows that it was I who killed the crab! I am sure that the old\r\nthing breathed his last before I left him. Dead crabs have no mouths!\r\nWho is there to tell that I am the murderer? Since no one knows, what\r\nis the use of shutting myself up and brooding over the matter? What is\r\ndone cannot be undone!\"\r\n\r\nWith this he wandered out into the crab settlement and crept about as\r\nslyly as possible near the crab's house and tried to hear the\r\nneighbors' gossip round about. He wanted to find out what the crabs\r\nwere saving about their chief's death, for the old crab had been the\r\nchief of the tribe. But he heard nothing and said to himself:\r\n\r\n\"They are all such fools that they don't know and don't care who\r\nmurdered their chief!\"\r\n\r\nLittle did he know in his so-called \"monkey's wisdom\" that this seeming\r\nunconcern was part of the young crab's plan. He purposely pretended not\r\nto know who killed his father, and also to believe that he had met his\r\ndeath through his own fault. By this means he could the better keep\r\nsecret the revenge on the monkey, which he was meditating.\r\n\r\nSo the monkey returned home from his walk quite content. He told\r\nhimself he had nothing now to fear.\r\n\r\nOne fine day, when the monkey was sitting at home, he was surprised by\r\nthe appearance of a messenger from the young crab. While he was\r\nwondering what this might mean, the messenger bowed before him and said:\r\n\r\n\"I have been sent by my master to inform you that his father died the\r\nother day in falling from a persimmon tree while trying to climb the\r\ntree after fruit. This, being the seventh day, is the first anniversary\r\nafter his death, and my master has prepared a little festival in his\r\nfather's honor, and bids you come to participate in it as you were one\r\nof his best friends. My master hopes you will honor his house with your\r\nkind visit.\"\r\n\r\nWhen the monkey heard these words he rejoiced in his inmost heart, for\r\nall his fears of being suspected were now at rest. He could not guess\r\nthat a plot had just been set in motion against him. He pretended to be\r\nvery surprised at the news of the crab's death, and said:\r\n\r\n\"I am, indeed, very sorry to hear of your chief's death. We were great\r\nfriends as you know. I remember that we once exchanged a rice-dumpling\r\nfor a persimmon-seed. It grieves me much to think that that seed was in\r\nthe end the cause of his death. I accept your kind invitation with many\r\nthanks. I shall be delighted to do honor to my poor old friend!\" And he\r\nscrewed some false tears from his eyes.\r\n\r\nThe messenger laughed inwardly and thought, \"The wicked monkey is now\r\ndropping false tears, but within a short time he shall shed real ones.\"\r\nBut aloud he thanked the monkey politely and went home.\r\n\r\nWhen he had gone, the wicked monkey laughed aloud at what he thought\r\nwas the young crab's innocence, and without the least feeling began to\r\nlook forward to the feast to be held that day in honor of the dead\r\ncrab, to which he had been invited. He changed his dress and set out\r\nsolemnly to visit the young crab.\r\n\r\nHe found all the members of the crab's family and his relatives waiting\r\nto receive and welcome him. As soon as the bows of meeting were over\r\nthey led him to a hall. Here the young chief mourner came to receive\r\nhim. Expressions of condolence and thanks were exchanged between them,\r\nand then they all sat down to a luxurious feast and entertained the\r\nmonkey as the guest of honor.\r\n\r\nThe feast over, he was next invited to the tea-ceremony room to drink a\r\ncup of tea. When the young crab had conducted the monkey to the tearoom\r\nhe left him and retired. Time passed and still he did not return. At\r\nlast the monkey became impatient. He said to himself:\r\n\r\n\"This tea ceremony is always a very slow affair. I am tired of waiting\r\nso long. I am very thirsty after drinking so much sake at the dinner!\"\r\n\r\nHe then approached the charcoal fire-place and began to pour out some\r\nhot water from the kettle boiling there, when something burst out from\r\nthe ashes with a great pop and hit the monkey right in the neck. It was\r\nthe chestnut, one of the crab's friends, who had hidden himself in the\r\nfireplace. The monkey, taken by surprise, jumped backward, and then\r\nstarted to run out of the room.\r\n\r\nThe bee, who was hiding outside the screens, now flew out and stung him\r\non the cheek. The monkey was in great pain, his neck was burned by the\r\nchestnut and his face badly stung by the bee, but he ran on screaming\r\nand chattering with rage.\r\n\r\nNow the stone mortar had hidden himself with several other stones on\r\nthe top of the crab's gate, and as the monkey ran underneath, the\r\nmortar and all fell down on the top of the monkey's head. Was it\r\npossible for the monkey to bear the weight of the mortar falling on him\r\nfrom the top of the gate? He lay crushed and in great pain, quite\r\nunable to get up. As he lay there helpless the young crab came up, and,\r\nholding his great claw scissors over the monkey, he said:\r\n\r\n\"Do you now remember that you murdered my father?\"\r\n\r\n\"Then you--are--my--enemy?\" gasped the monkey brokenly.\r\n\r\n\"Of course,\" said the young crab.\r\n\r\n\"It--was--your--father's--fault--not--mine!\" gasped the unrepentant\r\nmonkey.\r\n\r\n\"Can you still lie? I will soon put an end to your breath!\" and with\r\nthat he cut off the monkey's head with his pitcher claws. Thus the\r\nwicked monkey met his well-merited punishment, and the young crab\r\navenged his father's death.\r\n\r\nThis is the end of the story of the monkey, the crab, and the\r\npersimmon-seed.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE WHITE HARE AND THE CROCODILES\r\n\r\n\r\nLong, long ago, when all the animals could talk, there lived in the\r\nprovince of Inaba in Japan, a little white hare. His home was on the\r\nisland of Oki, and just across the sea was the mainland of Inaba.\r\n\r\nNow the hare wanted very much to cross over to Inaba. Day after day he\r\nwould go out and sit on the shore and look longingly over the water in\r\nthe direction of Inaba, and day after day he hoped to find some way of\r\ngetting across.\r\n\r\nOne day as usual, the hare was standing on the beach, looking towards\r\nthe mainland across the water, when he saw a great crocodile swimming\r\nnear the island.\r\n\r\n\"This is very lucky!\" thought the hare. \"Now I shall be able to get my\r\nwish. I will ask the crocodile to carry me across the sea!\"\r\n\r\nBut he was doubtful whether the crocodile would consent to do what\r\nwanted. So he thought instead of asking a favor he would try to get\r\nwhat he wanted by a trick.\r\n\r\nSo with a loud voice he called to the crocodile, and said:\r\n\r\n\"Oh, Mr. Crocodile, isn't it a lovely day?\"\r\n\r\nThe crocodile, who had come out all by itself that day to enjoy the\r\nbright sunshine, was just beginning to feel a bit lonely when the\r\nhare's cheerful greeting broke the silence. The crocodile swam nearer\r\nthe shore, very pleased to hear some one speak.\r\n\r\n\"I wonder who it was that spoke to me just now! Was it you, Mr. Hare?\r\nYou must be very lonely all by yourself!\"\r\n\r\n\"Oh, no, I am not at all lonely,\" said the hare, \"but as it was such a\r\nfine day I came out here to enjoy myself. Won't you stop and play with\r\nme a little while?\"\r\n\r\nThe crocodile came out of the sea and sat on the shore, and the two\r\nplayed together for some time. Then the hare said:\r\n\r\n\"Mr. Crocodile, you live in the sea and I live on this island, and we\r\ndo not often meet, so I know very little about you. Tell me, do you\r\nthink the number of your company is greater than mine?\"\r\n\r\n\"Of course, there are more crocodiles than hares,\" answered the\r\ncrocodile. \"Can you not see that for yourself? You live on this small\r\nisland, while I live in the sea, which spreads through all parts of the\r\nworld, so if I call together all the crocodiles who dwell in the sea\r\nyou hares will be as nothing compared to us!\" The crocodile was very\r\nconceited.\r\n\r\nThe hare, who meant to play a trick on the crocodile, said:\r\n\r\n\"Do you think it possible for you to call up enough crocodiles to form\r\na line from this island across the sea to Inaba?\"\r\n\r\nThe crocodile thought for a moment and then answered:\r\n\r\n\"Of course, it is possible.\"\r\n\r\n\"Then do try,\" said the artful hare, \"and I will count the number from\r\nhere!\"\r\n\r\nThe crocodile, who was very simple-minded, and who hadn't the least\r\nidea that the hare intended to play a trick on him, agreed to do what\r\nthe hare asked, and said:\r\n\r\n\"Wait a little while I go back into the sea and call my company\r\ntogether!\"\r\n\r\nThe crocodile plunged into the sea and was gone for some time. The\r\nhare, meanwhile, waited patiently on the shore. At last the crocodile\r\nappeared, bringing with him a large number of other crocodiles.\r\n\r\n\"Look, Mr. Hare!\" said the crocodile, \"it is nothing for my friends to\r\nform a line between here and Inaba. There are enough crocodiles to\r\nstretch from here even as far as China or India. Did you ever see so\r\nmany crocodiles?\"\r\n\r\nThen the whole company of crocodiles arranged themselves in the water\r\nso as to form a bridge between the Island of Oki and the mainland of\r\nInaba. When the hare saw the bridge of crocodiles, he said:\r\n\r\n\"How splendid! I did not believe this was possible. Now let me count\r\nyou all! To do this, however, with your permission, I must walk over on\r\nyour backs to the other side, so please be so good as not to move, or\r\nelse I shall fall into the sea and be drowned!\"\r\n\r\nSo the hare hopped off the island on to the strange bridge of\r\ncrocodiles, counting as he jumped from one crocodile's back to the\r\nother:\r\n\r\n\"Please keep quite still, or I shall not be able to count. One, two,\r\nthree, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine--\"\r\n\r\nThus the cunning hare walked right across to the mainland of Inaba. Not\r\ncontent with getting his wish, he began to jeer at the crocodiles\r\ninstead of thanking them, and said, as he leapt off the last one's back:\r\n\r\n\"Oh! you stupid crocodiles, now I have done with you!\"\r\n\r\nAnd he was just about to run away as fast as he could. But he did not\r\nescape so easily, for so soon as the crocodiles understood that this\r\nwas a trick played upon them by the hare so as to enable him to cross\r\nthe sea, and that the hare was now laughing at them for their\r\nstupidity, they became furiously angry and made up their minds to take\r\nrevenge. So some of them ran after the hare and caught him. Then they\r\nall surrounded the poor little animal and pulled out all his fur. He\r\ncried out loudly and entreated them to spare him, but with each tuft of\r\nfur they pulled out they said:\r\n\r\n\"Serve you right!\"\r\n\r\nWhen the crocodiles had pulled out the last bit of fur, they threw the\r\npoor hare on the beach, and all swam away laughing at what they had\r\ndone.\r\n\r\nThe hare was now in a pitiful plight, all his beautiful white fur had\r\nbeen pulled out, and his bare little body was quivering with pain and\r\nbleeding all over. He could hardly move, and all he could do was to lie\r\non the beach quite helpless and weep over the misfortune that had\r\nbefallen him. Notwithstanding that it was his own fault that had\r\nbrought all this misery and suffering upon the white hare of Inaba, any\r\none seeing the poor little creature could not help feeling sorry for\r\nhim in his sad condition, for the crocodiles had been very cruel in\r\ntheir revenge.\r\n\r\nJust at this time a number of men, who looked like King's sons,\r\nhappened to pass by, and seeing the hare lying on the beach crying,\r\nstopped and asked what was the matter.\r\n\r\nThe hare lifted up his head from between his paws, and answered them,\r\nsaying:\r\n\r\n\"I had a fight with some crocodiles, but I was beaten, and they pulled\r\nout all my fur and left me to suffer here--that is why I am crying.\"\r\n\r\nNow one of these young men had a bad and spiteful disposition. But he\r\nfeigned kindness, and said to the hare:\r\n\r\n\"I feel very sorry for you. If you will only try it, I know of a remedy\r\nwhich will cure your sore body. Go and bathe yourself in the sea, and\r\nthen come and sit in the wind. This will make your fur grow again, and\r\nyou will be just as you were before.\"\r\n\r\nThen all the young men passed on. The hare was very pleased, thinking\r\nthat he had found a cure. He went and bathed in the sea and then came\r\nout and sat where the wind could blow upon him.\r\n\r\nBut as the wind blew and dried him, his skin became drawn and hardened,\r\nand the salt increased the pain so much that he rolled on the sand in\r\nhis agony and cried aloud.\r\n\r\nJust then another King's son passed by, carrying a great bag on his\r\nback. He saw the hare, and stopped and asked why he was crying so\r\nloudly.\r\n\r\nBut the poor hare, remembering that he had been deceived by one very\r\nlike the man who now spoke to him, did not answer, but continued to cry.\r\n\r\nBut this man had a kind heart, and looked at the hare very pityingly,\r\nand said:\r\n\r\n\"You poor thing! I see that your fur is all pulled out and that your\r\nskin is quite bare. Who can have treated you so cruelly?\"\r\n\r\nWhen the hare heard these kind words he felt very grateful to the man,\r\nand encouraged by his gentle manner the hare told him all that had\r\nbefallen him. The little animal hid nothing from his friend, but told\r\nhim frankly how he had played a trick on the crocodiles and how he had\r\ncome across the bridge they had made, thinking that he wished to count\r\ntheir number: how he had jeered at them for their stupidity, and then\r\nhow the crocodiles had revenged themselves on him. Then he went on to\r\nsay how he had been deceived by a party of men who looked very like his\r\nkind friend: and the hare ended his long tale of woe by begging the man\r\nto give him some medicine that would cure him and make his fur grow\r\nagain.\r\n\r\nWhen the hare had finished his story, the man was full of pity towards\r\nhim, and said:\r\n\r\n\"I am very sorry for all you have suffered, but remember, it was only\r\nthe consequence of the deceit you practiced on the crocodiles.\"\r\n\r\n\"I know,\" answered the sorrowful hare, \"but I have repented and made up\r\nmy mind never to use deceit again, so I beg you to show me how I may\r\ncure my sore body and make the fur grow again.\"\r\n\r\n\"Then I will tell you of a good remedy,\" said the man. \"First go and\r\nbathe well in that pond over there and try to wash all the salt from\r\nyour body. Then pick some of those kaba flowers that are growing near\r\nthe edge of the water, spread them on the ground and roll yourself on\r\nthem. If you do this the pollen will cause your fur to grow again, and\r\nyou will be quite well in a little while.\"\r\n\r\nThe hare was very glad to be told what to do, so kindly. He crawled to\r\nthe pond pointed out to him, bathed well in it, and then picked the\r\nkaba flowers growing near the water, and rolled himself on them.\r\n\r\nTo his amazement, even while he was doing this, he saw his nice white\r\nfur growing again, the pain ceased, and he felt just as he had done\r\nbefore all his misfortunes.\r\n\r\nThe hare was overjoyed at his quick recovery, and went hopping joyfully\r\ntowards the young man who had so helped him, and kneeling down at his\r\nfeet, said:\r\n\r\n\"I cannot express my thanks for all you have done for me! It is my\r\nearnest wish to do something for you in return. Please tell me who you\r\nare?\"\r\n\r\n\"I am no King's son as you think me. I am a fairy, and my name is\r\nOkuni-nushi-no-Mikoto,\" answered the man, \"and those beings who passed\r\nhere before me are my brothers. They have heard of a beautiful Princess\r\ncalled Yakami who lives in this province of Inaba, and they are on\r\ntheir way to find her and to ask her to marry one of them. But on this\r\nexpedition I am only an attendant, so I am walking behind them with\r\nthis great big bag on my back.\"\r\n\r\nThe hare humbled himself before this great fairy Okuni-nushi-no-Mikoto,\r\nwhom many in that part of the land worshiped as a god.\r\n\r\n\"Oh, I did not know that you were Okuni-nushi-no-Mikoto. How kind you\r\nhave been to me! It is impossible to believe that that unkind fellow\r\nwho sent me to bathe in the sea is one of your brothers. I am quite\r\nsure that the Princess, whom your brothers have gone to seek, will\r\nrefuse to be the bride of any of them, and will prefer you for your\r\ngoodness of heart. I am quite sure that you will win her heart without\r\nintending to do so, and she will ask to be your bride.\"\r\n\r\nOkuni-nushi-no-Mikoto took no notice of what the hare said, but bidding\r\nthe little animal goodby, went on his way quickly and soon overtook his\r\nbrothers. He found them just entering the Princess's gate.\r\n\r\nJust as the hare had said, the Princess could not be persuaded to\r\nbecome the bride of any of the brothers, but when she looked at the\r\nkind brother's face she went straight up to him and said:\r\n\r\n\"To you I give myself,\" and so they were married.\r\n\r\nThis is the end of the story. Okuni-nushi-no-Mikoto is worshiped by the\r\npeople in some parts of Japan, as a god, and the hare has become famous\r\nas \"The White Hare of Inaba.\" But what became of the crocodiles nobody\r\nknows.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE STORY OF PRINCE YAMATO TAKE.\r\n\r\n\r\nThe insignia of the great Japanese Empire is composed of three\r\ntreasures which have been considered sacred, and guarded with jealous\r\ncare from time immemorial. These are the Yatano-no-Kagami or the Mirror\r\nof Yata, the Yasakami-no-Magatama or the Jewel of Yasakami, and the\r\nMurakumo-no-Tsurugi or the Sword of Murakumo.\r\n\r\nOf these three treasures of the Empire, the sword of Murakumo,\r\nafterwards known as Kusanagi-no-Tsrugugi, or the grass-cleaving sword,\r\nis considered the most precious and most highly to be honored, for it\r\nis the symbol of strength to this nation of warriors and the talisman\r\nof invincibility for the Emperor, while he holds it sacred in the\r\nshrine of his ancestors.\r\n\r\nNearly two thousand years ago this sword was kept at the shrines of\r\nIte, the temples dedicated to the worship of Amaterasu, the great and\r\nbeautiful Sun Goddess from whom the Japanese Emperors are said to be\r\ndescended.\r\n\r\nThere is a story of knightly adventure and daring which explains why\r\nthe name of the sword was changed from that of Murakumo to Kasanagi,\r\nwhich means grass clearing.\r\n\r\nOnce, many, many years ago, there was born a son to the Emperor Keiko,\r\nthe twelfth in descent from the great Jimmu, the founder of the\r\nJapanese dynasty. This Prince was the second son of the Emperor Keiko,\r\nand he was named Yamato. From his childhood he proved himself to be of\r\nremarkable strength, wisdom and courage, and his father noticed with\r\npride that he gave promise of great things, and he loved him even more\r\nthan he did his elder son.\r\n\r\nNow when Prince Yamato had grown to manhood (in the olden days of\r\nJapanese history, a boy was considered to have reached man's estate at\r\nthe early age of sixteen) the realm was much troubled by a band of\r\noutlaws whose chiefs were two brothers, Kumaso and Takeru. These rebels\r\nseemed to delight in rebelling against the King, in breaking the laws\r\nand defying all authority.\r\n\r\nAt last King Keiko ordered his younger son Prince Yamato to subdue the\r\nbrigands and, if possible, to rid the land of their evil lives. Prince\r\nYamato was only sixteen years of age, he had but reached his manhood\r\naccording to the law, yet though he was such a youth in years he\r\npossessed the dauntless spirit of a warrior of fuller age and knew not\r\nwhat fear was. Even then there was no man who could rival him for\r\ncourage and bold deeds, and he received his father's command with great\r\njoy.\r\n\r\nHe at once made ready to start, and great was the stir in the precincts\r\nof the Palace as he and his trusty followers gathered together and\r\nprepared for the expedition, and polished up their armor and donned it.\r\nBefore he left his father's Court he went to pray at the shrine of Ise\r\nand to take leave of his aunt the Princess Yamato, for his heart was\r\nsomewhat heavy at the thought of the dangers he had to face, and he\r\nfelt that he needed the protection of his ancestress, Amaterasu, the\r\nSun Goddess. The Princess his aunt came out to give him glad welcome,\r\nand congratulated him on being trusted with so great a mission by his\r\nfather the King. She then gave him one of her gorgeous robes as a\r\nkeepsake to go with him and to bring him good luck, saying that it\r\nwould surely be of service to him on this adventure. She then wished\r\nhim all success in his undertaking and bade him good speed.\r\n\r\nThe young Prince bowed low before his aunt, and received her gracious\r\ngift with much pleasure and many respectful bows.\r\n\r\n\"I will now set out,\" said the Prince, and returning to the Palace he\r\nput himself at the head of his troops. Thus cheered by his aunt's\r\nblessing, he felt ready for all that might befall, and marching through\r\nthe land he went down to the Southern Island of Kiushiu, the home of\r\nthe brigands.\r\n\r\nBefore many days had passed he reached the Southern Island, and then\r\nslowly but surely made his way to the head-quarters of the chiefs\r\nKumaso and Takeru. He now met with great difficulties, for he found the\r\ncountry exceedingly wild and rough. The mountains were high and steep,\r\nthe valleys dark and deep, and huge trees and bowlders of rock blocked\r\nup the road and stopped the progress of his army. It was all but\r\nimpossible to go on.\r\n\r\nThough the Prince was but a youth he had the wisdom of years, and,\r\nseeing that it was vain to try and lead his men further, he said to\r\nhimself:\r\n\r\n\"To attempt to fight a battle in this impassable country unknown to my\r\nmen only makes my task harder. We cannot clear the roads and fight as\r\nwell. It is wiser for me to resort to stratagem and come upon my\r\nenemies unawares. In that way I may be able to kill them without much\r\nexertion.\"\r\n\r\nSo he now bade his army halt by the way. His wife, the Princess\r\nOtotachibana, had accompanied him, and he bade her bring him the robe\r\nhis aunt the priestess of Ise had given him, and to help him attire\r\nhimself as a woman. With her help he put on the robe, and let his hair\r\ndown till it flowed over his shoulders. Ototachibana then brought him\r\nher comb, which he put in his black tresses, and then adorned himself\r\nwith strings of strange jewels just as you see in the picture. When he\r\nhad finished his unusual toilet, Ototachibana brought him her mirror.\r\nHe smiled as he gazed at himself--the disguise was so perfect.\r\n\r\nHe hardly knew himself, so changed was he. All traces of the warrior\r\nhad disappeared, and in the shining surface only a beautiful lady\r\nlooked back at him.\r\n\r\nThus completely disguised, he set out for the enemy's camp alone. In\r\nthe folds of his silk gown, next his strong heart, was hidden a sharp\r\ndagger.\r\n\r\nThe two chiefs Kumaso and Takeru wore sitting in their tent, resting in\r\nthe cool of the evening, when the Prince approached. They were talking\r\nof the news which had recently been carried to them, that the King's\r\nson had entered their country with a large army determined to\r\nexterminate their band. They had both heard of the young warrior's\r\nrenown, and for the first time in their wicked lives they felt afraid.\r\nIn a pause in their talk they happened to look up, and saw through the\r\ndoor of the tent a beautiful woman robed in sumptuous garments coming\r\ntowards them. Like an apparition of loveliness she appeared in the soft\r\ntwilight. Little did they dream that it was their enemy whose coming\r\nthey so dreaded who now stood before them in this disguise.\r\n\r\n\"What a beautiful woman! Where has she come from?\" said the astonished\r\nKumaso, forgetting war and council and everything as he looked at the\r\ngentle intruder.\r\n\r\nHe beckoned to the disguised Prince and bade him sit down and serve\r\nthem with wine. Yamato Take felt his heart swell with a fierce glee for\r\nhe now knew that his plan would succeed. However, he dissembled\r\ncleverly, and putting on a sweet air of shyness he approached the rebel\r\nchief with slow steps and eyes glancing like a frightened deer. Charmed\r\nto distraction by the girl's loveliness Kumaso drank cup after cup of\r\nwine for the pleasure of seeing her pour it out for him, till at last\r\nhe was quite overcome with the quantity he had drunk.\r\n\r\nThis was the moment for which the brave Prince had been waiting.\r\nFlinging down the wine jar, he seized the tipsy and astonished Kumaso\r\nand quickly stabbed him to death with the dagger which he had secretly\r\ncarried hidden in his breast.\r\n\r\nTakeru, the brigand's brother, was terror-struck as soon as he saw what\r\nwas happening and tried to escape, but Prince Yamato was too quick for\r\nhim. Ere he could reach the tent door the Prince was at his heel, his\r\ngarments were clutched by a hand of iron, and a dagger flashed before\r\nhis eyes and he lay stabbed to the earth, dying but not yet dead.\r\n\r\n\"Wait one moment!\" gasped the brigand painfully, and he seized the\r\nPrince's hand.\r\n\r\nYamato relaxed his hold somewhat and said.\r\n\r\n\"Why should I pause, thou villain?\"\r\n\r\nThe brigand raised himself fearfully and said:\r\n\r\n\"Tell me from whence you come, and whom I have the honor of addressing?\r\nHitherto I believed that my dead brother and I were the strongest men\r\nin the land, and that there was no one who could overcome us. Alone you\r\nhave ventured into our stronghold, alone you have attacked and killed\r\nus! Surely you are more than mortal?\"\r\n\r\nThen the young Prince answered with a proud smile:--\"I am the son of\r\nthe King and my name is Yamato, and I have been sent by my father as\r\nthe avenger of evil to bring death to all rebels! No longer shall\r\nrobbery and murder hold my people in terror!\" and he held the dagger\r\ndripping red above the rebel's head.\r\n\r\n\"Ah,\" gasped the dying man with a great effort, \"I have often heard of\r\nyou. You are indeed a strong man to have so easily overcome us. Allow\r\nme to give you a new name. From henceforth you shall be known as Yamato\r\nTake. Our title I bequeath to you as the bravest man in Yamato.\"\r\n\r\nAnd with these noble words, Takeru fell back and died.\r\n\r\nThe Prince having thus successfully put an end to his father's enemies\r\nin the world, was prepared to return to the capital. On the way back he\r\npassed through the province of Idum. Here he met with another outlaw\r\nnamed Idzumo Takeru who he knew had done much harm in the land. He\r\nagain resorted to stratagem, and feigned friendship with the rebel\r\nunder an assumed name. Having done this he made a sword of wood and\r\njammed it tightly in the shaft of his own strong sword. This he\r\npurposedly buckled to his side and wore on every occasion when he\r\nexpected to meet the third robber Takeru.\r\n\r\nHe now invited Takeru to the bank of the River Hinokawa, and persuaded\r\nhim to try a swim with him in the cool refreshing waters of the river.\r\n\r\nAs it was a hot summer's day, the rebel was nothing loath to take a\r\nplunge in the river, while his enemy was still swimming down the stream\r\nthe Prince turned back and landed with all possible haste. Unperceived,\r\nhe managed to change swords, putting his wooden one in place of the\r\nkeen steel sword of Takeru.\r\n\r\nKnowing nothing of this, the brigand came up to the bank shortly. As\r\nsoon as he had landed and donned his clothes, the Prince came forward\r\nand asked him to cross swords with him to prove his skill, saying:\r\n\r\n\"Let us two prove which is the better swordsman of the two!\"\r\n\r\nThe robber agreed with delight, feeling certain of victory, for he was\r\nfamous as a fencer in his province and he did not know who his\r\nadversary was. He seized quickly what he thought was his sword and\r\nstood on guard to defend himself. Alas! for the rebel the sword was the\r\nwooden one of the young Prince and in vain Takeru tried to unsheathe\r\nit--it was jammed fast, not all his exerted strength could move it.\r\nEven if his efforts had been successful the sword would have been of no\r\nuse to him for it was of wood. Yamato Take saw that his enemy was in\r\nhis power, and swinging high the sword he had taken from Takeru he\r\nbrought it down with great might and dexterity and cut off the robber's\r\nhead.\r\n\r\nIn this way, sometimes by using his wisdom and sometimes by using his\r\nbodily strength, and at other times by resorting to craftiness, which\r\nwas as much esteemed in those days as it is despised in these, he\r\nprevailed against all the King's foes one by one, and brought peace and\r\nrest to the land and the people.\r\n\r\nWhen he returned to the capital the King praised him for his brave\r\ndeeds, and held a feast in the Palace in honor of his safe coming home\r\nand presented him with many rare gifts. From this time forth the King\r\nloved him more than ever and would not let Yamato Take go from his\r\nside, for he said that his son was now as precious to him as one of his\r\narms.\r\n\r\nBut the Prince was not allowed to live an idle life long. When he was\r\nabout thirty years old, news was brought that the Ainu race, the\r\naborigines of the islands of Japan, who had been conquered and pushed\r\nnorthwards by the Japanese, had rebelled in the Eastern provinces, and\r\nleaving the vicinity which had been allotted to them were causing great\r\ntrouble in the land. The King decided that it was necessary to send an\r\narmy to do battle with them and bring them to reason. But who was to\r\nlead the men?\r\n\r\nPrince Yamato Take at once offered to go and bring the newly arisen\r\nrebels into subjection. Now as the King loved the Prince dearly, and\r\ncould not bear to have him go out of his sight even for the length of\r\none day, he was of course very loath to send him on his dangerous\r\nexpedition. But in the whole army there was no warrior so strong or so\r\nbrave as the Prince his son, so that His Majesty, unable to do\r\notherwise, reluctantly complied with Yamato's wish.\r\n\r\nWhen the time came for the Prince to start, the King gave him a spear\r\ncalled the Eight-Arms-Length-Spear of the Holly Tree (the handle was\r\nprobably made from the wood of the holly tree), and ordered him to set\r\nout to subjugate the Eastern Barbarians as the Ainu were then called.\r\n\r\nThe Eight-Arms-Length-Spear of the Holly Tree of those old days, was\r\nprized by warriors just as much as the Standard or Banner is valued by\r\na regiment in these modern days, when given by the King to his soldiers\r\non the occasion of setting out for war.\r\n\r\nThe Prince respectfully and with great reverence received the King's\r\nspear, and leaving the capital, marched with his army to the East. On\r\nhis way he visited first of all the temples of Ise for worship, and his\r\naunt the Princess of Yamato and High Priestess came out to greet him.\r\nShe it was who had given him her robe which had proved such a boon to\r\nhim before in helping him to overcome and slay the brigands of the West.\r\n\r\nHe told her all that had happened to him, and of the great part her\r\nkeepsake had played in the success of his previous undertaking, and\r\nthanked her very heartily. When she heard that he was starting out once\r\nagain to do battle with his father's enemies, she went into the temple,\r\nand reappeared bearing a sword and a beautiful bag which she had made\r\nherself, and which was full of flints, which in those times people used\r\ninstead of matches for making fire. These she presented to him as a\r\nparting gift.\r\n\r\nThe sword was the sword of Murakumo, one of the three sacred treasures\r\nwhich comprise the insignia of the Imperial House of Japan. No more\r\nauspicious talisman of luck and success could she have given her\r\nnephew, and she bade him use it in the hour of his greatest need.\r\n\r\nYamato Take now bade farewell to his aunt, and once more placing\r\nhimself at the head of his men he marched to the farthest East through\r\nthe province of Owari, and then he reached the province of Suruga. Here\r\nthe governor welcomed the Prince right heartily and entertained him\r\nroyally with many feasts. When these were over, the governor told his\r\nguest that his country was famous for its fine deer, and proposed a\r\ndeer hunt for the Prince's amusement. The Prince was utterly deceived\r\nby the cordiality of his host, which was all feigned, and gladly\r\nconsented to join in the hunt.\r\n\r\nThe governor then led the Prince to a wild and extensive plain where\r\nthe grass grew high and in great abundance. Quite ignorant that the\r\ngovernor had laid a trap for him with the desire to compass his death,\r\nthe Prince began to ride hard and hunt down the deer, when all of a\r\nsudden to his amazement he saw flames and smoke bursting out from the\r\nbush in front of him. Realizing his danger he tried to retreat, but no\r\nsooner did he turn his horse in the opposite direction than he saw that\r\neven there the prairie was on fire. At the same time the grass on his\r\nleft and right burst into flames, and these began to spread swiftly\r\ntowards him on all sides. He looked round for a chance of escape. There\r\nwas none. He was surrounded by fire.\r\n\r\n\"This deer hunt was then only a cunning trick of the enemy!\" said the\r\nPrince, looking round on the flames and the smoke that crackled and\r\nrolled in towards him on every side. \"What a fool I was to be lured\r\ninto this trap like a wild beast!\" and he ground his teeth with rage as\r\nhe thought of the governor's smiling treachery.\r\n\r\nDangerous as was his situation now, the Prince was not in the least\r\nconfounded. In his dire extremity he remembered the gifts his aunt had\r\ngiven him when they parted, and it seemed to him as if she must, with\r\nprophetic foresight, have divined this hour of need. He coolly opened\r\nthe flint-bag that his aunt had given him and set fire to the grass\r\nnear him. Then drawing the sword of Murakumo from its sheath he set to\r\nwork to cut down the grass on either side of him with all speed. He\r\ndetermined to die, if that were necessary, fighting for his life and\r\nnot standing still waiting for death to come to him.\r\n\r\nStrange to say the wind began to change and to blow from the opposite\r\ndirection, and the fiercest portion of the burning bush which had\r\nhitherto threatened to come upon him was now blown right away from him,\r\nand the Prince, without even a scratch on his body or a single hair\r\nburned, lived to tell the tale of his wonderful escape, while the wind\r\nrising to a gale overtook the governor, and he was burned to death in\r\nthe flames he had set alight to kill Yamato Take.\r\n\r\nNow the Prince ascribed his escape entirely to the virtue of the sword\r\nof Murakumo, and to the protection of Amaterasu, the Sun Goddess of\r\nIse, who controls the wind and all the elements and insures the safety\r\nof all who pray to her in the hour of danger. Lifting the precious\r\nsword he raised it above his head many times in token of his great\r\nrespect, and as he did this he re-named it Kusanagi-no-Tsurugi or the\r\nGrass-Cleaving Sword, and the place where he set fire to the grass\r\nround him and escaped from death in the burning prairie, he called\r\nYaidzu. To this day there is a spot along the great Tokaido railway\r\nnamed Yaidzu, which is said to be the very place where this thrilling\r\nevent took place.\r\n\r\nThus did the brave Prince Yamato Take escape out of the snare laid for\r\nhim by his enemy. He was full of resource and courage, and finally\r\noutwitted and subdued all his foes. Leaving Yaidzu he marched eastward,\r\nand came to the shore at Idzu from whence he wished to cross to Kadzusa.\r\n\r\nIn these dangers and adventures he had been followed by his faithful\r\nloving wife the Princess Ototachibana. For his sake she counted the\r\nweariness of the long journeys and the dangers of war as nothing, and\r\nher love for her warrior husband was so great that she felt well repaid\r\nfor all her wanderings if she could but hand him his sword when he\r\nsallied forth to battle, or minister to his wants when he returned\r\nweary to the camp.\r\n\r\nBut the heart of the Prince was full of war and conquest and he cared\r\nlittle for the faithful Ototachibana. From long exposure in traveling,\r\nand from care and grief at her lord's coldness to her, her beauty had\r\nfaded, and her ivory skin was burnt brown by the sun, and the Prince\r\ntold her one day that her place was in the Palace behind the screens at\r\nhome and not with him upon the warpath. But in spite of rebuffs and\r\nindifference on her husband's part, Ototachibana could not find it in\r\nher heart to leave him. But perhaps it would have been better for her\r\nif she had done so, for on the way to Idzu, when they came to Owari,\r\nher heart was well-nigh broken.\r\n\r\nHere dwelt in a Palace shaded by pine-trees and approached by imposing\r\ngates, the Princess Miyadzu, beautiful as the cherry blossom in the\r\nblushing dawn of a spring morning. Her garments were dainty and bright,\r\nand her skin was white as snow, for she had never known what it was to\r\nbe weary along the path of duty or to walk in the heat of a summer's\r\nsun. And the Prince was ashamed of his sunburnt wife in her\r\ntravel-stained garments, and bade her remain behind while he went to\r\nvisit the Princess Miyadzu. Day after day he spent hours in the gardens\r\nand the Palace of his new friend, thinking only of his pleasure, and\r\ncaring little for his poor wife who remained behind to weep in the tent\r\nat the misery which had come into her life. Yet she was so faithful a\r\nwife, and her character so patient, that she never allowed a reproach\r\nto escape her lips, or a frown to mar the sweet sadness of her face,\r\nand she was ever ready with a smile to welcome her husband back or\r\nusher him forth wherever he went.\r\n\r\nAt last the day came when the Prince Yamato Take must depart for Idzu\r\nand cross over the sea to Kadzusa, and he bade his wife follow in his\r\nretinue as an attendant while he went to take a ceremonious farewell of\r\nthe Princess Miyadzu. She came out to greet him dressed in gorgeous\r\nrobes, and she seemed more beautiful than ever, and when Yamato Take\r\nsaw her he forgot his wife, his duty, and everything except the joy of\r\nthe idle present, and swore that he would return to Owari and marry her\r\nwhen the war was over. And as he looked up when he had said these words\r\nhe met the large almond eyes of Ototachibana fixed full upon him in\r\nunspeakable sadness and wonder, and he knew that he had done wrong, but\r\nhe hardened his heart and rode on, caring little for the pain he had\r\ncaused her.\r\n\r\nWhen they reached the seashore at Idzu his men sought for boats in\r\nwhich to cross the straits to Kadzusa, but it was difficult to find\r\nboats enough to allow all the soldiers to embark. Then the Prince stood\r\non the beach, and in the pride of his strength he scoffed and said:\r\n\r\n\"This is not the sea! This is only a brook! Why do you men want so many\r\nboats? I could jump this if I would.\"\r\n\r\nWhen at last they had all embarked and were fairly on their way across\r\nthe straits, the sky suddenly clouded and a great storm arose. The\r\nwaves rose mountains high, the wind howled, the lightning flashed and\r\nthe thunder rolled, and the boat which held Ototachibana and the Prince\r\nand his men was tossed from crest to crest of the rolling waves, till\r\nit seemed that every moment must be their last and that they must all\r\nbe swallowed up in the angry sea. For Kin Jin, the Dragon King of the\r\nSea, had heard Yamato Take jeer, and had raised this terrible storm in\r\nanger, to show the scoffing Prince how awful the sea could be though it\r\ndid but look like a brook.\r\n\r\nThe terrified crew lowered the sails and looked after the rudder, and\r\nworked for their dear lives' sake, but all in vain--the storm only\r\nseemed to increase in violence, and all gave themselves up for lost.\r\nThen the faithful Ototachibana rose, and forgetting all the grief that\r\nher husband had caused her, forgetting even that he had wearied of her,\r\nin the one great desire of her love to save him, she determined to\r\nsacrifice her life to rescue him from death if it were possible.\r\n\r\nWhile the waves dashed over the ship and the wind whirled round them in\r\nfury she stood up and said:\r\n\r\n\"Surely all this has come because the Prince has angered Rin Jin, the\r\nGod of the Sea, by his jesting. If so, I, Ototachibana, will appease\r\nthe wrath of the Sea God who desires nothing less than my husband's\r\nlife!\"\r\n\r\nThen addressing the sea she said:\r\n\r\n\"I will take the place of His Augustness, Yamato Take. I will now cast\r\nmyself into your outraged depths, giving my life for his. Therefore\r\nhear me and bring him safely to the shore of Kadzusa.\"\r\n\r\nWith these words she leaped quickly into the boisterous sea, and the\r\nwaves soon whirled her away and she was lost to sight. Strange to say,\r\nthe storm ceased at once, and the sea became as calm and smooth as the\r\nmatting on which the astonished onlookers were sitting. The gods of the\r\nsea were now appeased, and the weather cleared and the sun shone as on\r\na summer's day.\r\n\r\nYamato Take soon reached the opposite shore and landed safely, even as\r\nhis wife Ototachibana had prayed. His prowess in war was marvelous, and\r\nhe succeeded after some time in conquering the Eastern Barbarians, the\r\nAinu.\r\n\r\nHe ascribed his safe landing wholly to the faithfulness of his wife,\r\nwho had so willingly and lovingly sacrificed herself in the hour of his\r\nutmost peril. His heart was softened at the remembrance of her, and he\r\nnever allowed her to pass from his thoughts even for a moment. Too late\r\nhad he learned to esteem the goodness of her heart and the greatness of\r\nher love for him.\r\n\r\nAs he was returning on his homeward way he came to the high pass of the\r\nUsui Toge, and here he stood and gazed at the wonderful prospect\r\nbeneath him. The country, from this great elevation, all lay open to\r\nhis sight, a vast panorama of mountain and plain and forest, with\r\nrivers winding like silver ribbons through the land; then far off he\r\nsaw the distant sea, which shimmered like a luminous mist in the great\r\ndistance, where Ototachibana had given her life for him, and as he\r\nturned towards it he stretched out his arms, and thinking of her love\r\nwhich he had scorned and his faithlessness to her, his heart burst out\r\ninto a sorrowful and bitter cry:\r\n\r\n\"Azuma, Azuma, Ya!\" (Oh! my wife, my wife!) And to this day there is a\r\ndistrict in Tokio called Azuma, which commemorates the words of Prince\r\nYamato Take, and the place where his faithful wife leapt into the sea\r\nto save him is still pointed out. So, though in life the Princess\r\nOtotachibana was unhappy, history keeps her memory green, and the story\r\nof her unselfishness and heroic death will never pass away.\r\n\r\nYamato Take had now fulfilled all his father's orders, he had subdued\r\nall rebels, and rid the land of all robbers and enemies to the peace,\r\nand his renown was great, for in the whole land there was no one who\r\ncould stand up against him, he was so strong in battle and wise in\r\ncouncil.\r\n\r\nHe was about to return straight for home by the way he had come, when\r\nthe thought struck him that he would find it more interesting to take\r\nanother route, so he passed through the province of Owari and came to\r\nthe province of Omi.\r\n\r\nWhen the Prince reached Omi he found the people in a state of great\r\nexcitement and fear. In many houses as he passed along he saw the signs\r\nof mourning and heard loud lamentations. On inquiring the cause of this\r\nhe was told that a terrible monster had appeared in the mountains, who\r\ndaily came down from thence and made raids on the villages, devouring\r\nwhoever he could seize. Many homes had been made desolate and the men\r\nwere afraid to go out to their daily work in the fields, or the women\r\nto go to the rivers to wash their rice.\r\n\r\nWhen Yamato Take heard this his wrath was kindled, and he said fiercely:\r\n\r\n\"From the western end of Kiushiu to the eastern corner of Yezo I have\r\nsubdued all the King's enemies--there is no one who dares to break the\r\nlaws or to rebel against the King. It is indeed a matter for wonder\r\nthat here in this place, so near the capital, a wicked monster has\r\ndared to take up his abode and be the terror of the King's subjects.\r\nNot long shall it find pleasure in devouring innocent folk. I will\r\nstart out and kill it at once.\"\r\n\r\nWith these words he set out for the Ibuki Mountain, where the monster\r\nwas said to live. He climbed up a good distance, when all of a sudden,\r\nat a winding in the path, a monster serpent appeared before him and\r\nstopped the way.\r\n\r\n\"This must be the monster,\" said the Prince; \"I do not need my sword\r\nfor a serpent. I can kill him with my hands.\"\r\n\r\nHe thereupon sprang upon the serpent and tried to strangle it to death\r\nwith his bare arms. It was not long before his prodigious strength\r\ngained the mastery and the serpent lay dead at his feet. Now a sudden\r\ndarkness came over the mountain and rain began to fall, so that for the\r\ngloom and the rain the Prince could hardly see which way to take. In a\r\nshort time, however, while he was groping his way down the pass, the\r\nweather cleared, and our brave hero was able to make his way quickly\r\ndown the mountain.\r\n\r\nWhen he got back he began to feel ill and to have burning pains in his\r\nfeet, so he knew that the serpent had poisoned him. So great was his\r\nsuffering that he could hardly move, much less walk, so he had himself\r\ncarried to a place in the mountains famous for its hot mineral springs,\r\nwhich rose bubbling out of the earth, and almost boiling from the\r\nvolcanic fires beneath.\r\n\r\nYamato Take bathed daily in these waters, and gradually he felt his\r\nstrength come again, and the pains left him, till at last one day he\r\nfound with great joy that he was quite recovered. He now hastened to\r\nthe temples of Ise, where you will remember that he prayed before\r\nundertaking this long expedition. His aunt, priestess of the shrine,\r\nwho had blessed him on his setting out, now came to welcome him back.\r\nHe told her of the many dangers he had encountered and of how\r\nmarvelously his life had been preserved through all--and she praised\r\nhis courage and his warrior's prowess, and then putting on her most\r\nmagnificent robes she returned thanks to their ancestress the Sun\r\nGoddess Amaterasu, to whose protection they both ascribed the Prince's\r\nwonderful preservation.\r\n\r\nHere ends the story of Prince Yamato Take of Japan.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nMOMOTARO, OR THE STORY OF THE SON OF A PEACH.\r\n\r\n\r\nLong, long ago there lived, an old man and an old woman; they were\r\npeasants, and had to work hard to earn their daily rice. The old man\r\nused to go and cut grass for the farmers around, and while he was gone\r\nthe old woman, his wife, did the work of the house and worked in their\r\nown little rice field.\r\n\r\nOne day the old man went to the hills as usual to cut grass and the old\r\nwoman took some clothes to the river to wash.\r\n\r\nIt was nearly summer, and the country was very beautiful to see in its\r\nfresh greenness as the two old people went on their way to work. The\r\ngrass on the banks of the river looked like emerald velvet, and the\r\npussy willows along the edge of the water were shaking out their soft\r\ntassels.\r\n\r\nThe breezes blew and ruffled the smooth surface of the water into\r\nwavelets, and passing on touched the cheeks of the old couple who, for\r\nsome reason they could not explain, felt very happy that morning.\r\n\r\nThe old woman at last found a nice spot by the river bank and put her\r\nbasket down. Then she set to work to wash the clothes; she took them\r\none by one out of the basket and washed them in the river and rubbed\r\nthem on the stones. The water was as clear as crystal, and she could\r\nsee the tiny fish swimming to and fro, and the pebbles at the bottom.\r\n\r\nAs she was busy washing her clothes a great peach came bumping down the\r\nstream. The old woman looked up from her work and saw this large peach.\r\nShe was sixty years of age, yet in all her life she had never seen such\r\na big peach as this.\r\n\r\n\"How delicious that peach must be!\" she said to herself. \"I must\r\ncertainly get it and take it home to my old man.\"\r\n\r\nShe stretched out her arm to try and get it, but it was quite out of\r\nher reach. She looked about for a stick, but there was not one to be\r\nseen, and if she went to look for one she would lose the peach.\r\n\r\nStopping a moment to think what she would do, she remembered an old\r\ncharm-verse. Now she began to clap her hands to keep time to the\r\nrolling of the peach down stream, and while she clapped she sang this\r\nsong:\r\n\r\n  \"Distant water is bitter,\r\n   The near water is sweet;\r\n   Pass by the distant water\r\n   And come into the sweet.\"\r\n\r\nStrange to say, as soon as she began to repeat this little song the\r\npeach began to come nearer and nearer the bank where the old woman was\r\nstanding, till at last it stopped just in front of her so that she was\r\nable to take it up in her hands. The old woman was delighted. She could\r\nnot go on with her work, so happy and excited was she, so she put all\r\nthe clothes back in her bamboo basket, and with the basket on her back\r\nand the peach in her hand she hurried homewards.\r\n\r\nIt seemed a very long time to her to wait till her husband returned.\r\nThe old man at last came back as the sun was setting, with a big bundle\r\nof grass on his back--so big that he was almost hidden and she could\r\nhardly see him. He seemed very tired and used the scythe for a walking\r\nstick, leaning on it as he walked along.\r\n\r\nAs soon as the old woman saw him she called out:\r\n\r\n\"O Fii San! (old man) I have been waiting for you to come home for such\r\na long time to-day!\"\r\n\r\n\"What is the matter? Why are you so impatient?\" asked the old man,\r\nwondering at her unusual eagerness. \"Has anything happened while I have\r\nbeen away?\"\r\n\r\n\"Oh, no!\" answered the old woman, \"nothing has happened, only I have\r\nfound a nice present for you!\"\r\n\r\n\"That is good,\" said the old man. He then washed his feet in a basin of\r\nwater and stepped up to the veranda.\r\n\r\nThe old woman now ran into the little room and brought out from the\r\ncupboard the big peach. It felt even heavier than before. She held it\r\nup to him, saying:\r\n\r\n\"Just look at this! Did you ever see such a large peach in all your\r\nlife?\"\r\n\r\nWhen the old man looked at the peach he was greatly astonished and said:\r\n\r\n\"This is indeed the largest peach I have ever seen! Wherever did you\r\nbuy it?\"\r\n\r\n\"I did not buy it,\" answered the old woman. \"I found it in the river\r\nwhere I was washing.\" And she told him the whole story.\r\n\r\n\"I am very glad that you have found it. Let us eat it now, for I am\r\nhungry,\" said the O Fii San.\r\n\r\nHe brought out the kitchen knife, and, placing the peach on a board,\r\nwas about to cut it when, wonderful to tell, the peach split in two of\r\nitself and a clear voice said:\r\n\r\n\"Wait a bit, old man!\" and out stepped a beautiful little child.\r\n\r\nThe old man and his wife were both so astonished at what they saw that\r\nthey fell to the ground. The child spoke again:\r\n\r\n\"Don't be afraid. I am no demon or fairy. I will tell you the truth.\r\nHeaven has had compassion on you. Every day and every night you have\r\nlamented that you had no child. Your cry has been heard and I am sent\r\nto be the son of your old age!\"\r\n\r\nOn hearing this the old man and his wife were very happy. They had\r\ncried night and day for sorrow at having no child to help them in their\r\nlonely old age, and now that their prayer was answered they were so\r\nlost with joy that they did not know where to put their hands or their\r\nfeet. First the old man took the child up in his arms, and then the old\r\nwoman did the same; and they named him MOMOTARO, OR SON OF A PEACH,\r\nbecause he had come out of a peach.\r\n\r\nThe years passed quickly by and the child grew to be fifteen years of\r\nage. He was taller and far stronger than any other boys of his own age,\r\nhe had a handsome face and a heart full of courage, and he was very\r\nwise for his years. The old couple's pleasure was very great when they\r\nlooked at him, for he was just what they thought a hero ought to be\r\nlike.\r\n\r\nOne day Momotaro came to his foster-father and said solemnly:\r\n\r\n\"Father, by a strange chance we have become father and son. Your\r\ngoodness to me has been higher than the mountain grasses which it was\r\nyour daily work to cut, and deeper than the river where my mother\r\nwashes the clothes. I do not know how to thank you enough.\"\r\n\r\n\"Why,\" answered the old man, \"it is a matter of course that a father\r\nshould bring up his son. When you are older it will be your turn to\r\ntake care of us, so after all there will be no profit or loss between\r\nus--all will be equal. Indeed, I am rather surprised that you should\r\nthank me in this way!\" and the old man looked bothered.\r\n\r\n\"I hope you will be patient with me,\" said Momotaro; \"but before I\r\nbegin to pay back your goodness to me I have a request to make which I\r\nhope you will grant me above everything else.\"\r\n\r\n\"I will let you do whatever you wish, for you are quite different to\r\nall other boys!\"\r\n\r\n\"Then let me go away at once!\"\r\n\r\n\"What do you say? Do you wish to leave your old father and mother and\r\ngo away from your old home?\"\r\n\r\n\"I will surely come back again, if you let me go now!\"\r\n\r\n\"Where are you going?\"\r\n\r\n\"You must think it strange that I want to go away,\" said Momotaro,\r\n\"because I have not yet told you my reason. Far away from here to the\r\nnortheast of Japan there is an island in the sea. This island is the\r\nstronghold of a band of devils. I have often heard how they invade this\r\nland, kill and rob the people, and carry off all they can find. They\r\nare not only very wicked but they are disloyal to our Emperor and\r\ndisobey his laws. They are also cannibals, for they kill and eat some\r\nof the poor people who are so unfortunate as to fall into their hands.\r\nThese devils are very hateful beings. I must go and conquer them and\r\nbring back all the plunder of which they have robbed this land. It is\r\nfor this reason that I want to go away for a short time!\"\r\n\r\nThe old man was much surprised at hearing all this from a mere boy of\r\nfifteen. He thought it best to let the boy go. He was strong and\r\nfearless, and besides all this, the old man knew he was no common\r\nchild, for he had been sent to them as a gift from Heaven, and he felt\r\nquite sure that the devils would be powerless to harm him.\r\n\r\n\"All you say is very interesting, Momotaro,\" said the old man. \"I will\r\nnot hinder you in your determination. You may go if you wish. Go to the\r\nisland as soon as ever you like and destroy the demons and bring peace\r\nto the land.\"\r\n\r\n\"Thank you, for all your kindness,\" said Momotaro, who began to get\r\nready to go that very day. He was full of courage and did not know what\r\nfear was.\r\n\r\nThe old man and woman at once set to work to pound rice in the kitchen\r\nmortar to make cakes for Momotaro to take with him on his journey.\r\n\r\nAt last the cakes were made and Momotaro was ready to start on his long\r\njourney.\r\n\r\nParting is always sad. So it was now. The eyes of the two old people\r\nwere filled with tears and their voices trembled as they said:\r\n\r\n\"Go with all care and speed. We expect you back victorious!\"\r\n\r\nMomotaro was very sorry to leave his old parents (though he knew he was\r\ncoming back as soon as he could), for he thought of how lonely they\r\nwould be while he was away. But he said \"Good-by!\" quite bravely.\r\n\r\n\"I am going now. Take good care of yourselves while I am away.\r\nGood-by!\" And he stepped quickly out of the house. In silence the eyes\r\nof Momotaro and his parents met in farewell.\r\n\r\nMomotaro now hurried on his way till it was midday. He began to feel\r\nhungry, so he opened his bag and took out one of the rice-cakes and sat\r\ndown under a tree by the side of the road to eat it. While he was thus\r\nhaving his lunch a dog almost as large as a colt came running out from\r\nthe high grass. He made straight for Momotaro, and showing his teeth,\r\nsaid in a fierce way:\r\n\r\n\"You are a rude man to pass my field without asking permission first.\r\nIf you leave me all the cakes you have in your bag you may go;\r\notherwise I will bite you till I kill you!\"\r\n\r\nMomotaro only laughed scornfully:\r\n\r\n\"What is that you are saying? Do you know who I am? I am Momotaro, and\r\nI am on my way to subdue the devils in their island stronghold in the\r\nnortheast of Japan. If you try to stop me on my way there I will cut\r\nyou in two from the head downwards!\"\r\n\r\nThe dog's manner at once changed. His tail dropped between his legs,\r\nand coming near he bowed so low that his forehead touched the ground.\r\n\r\n\"What do I hear? The name of Momotaro? Are you indeed Momotaro? I have\r\noften heard of your great strength. Not knowing who you were I have\r\nbehaved in a very stupid way. Will you please pardon my rudeness? Are\r\nyou indeed on your way to invade the Island of Devils? If you will take\r\nsuch a rude fellow with you as one of your followers, I shall be very\r\ngrateful to you.\"\r\n\r\n\"I think I can take you with me if you wish to go,\" said Momotaro.\r\n\r\n\"Thank you!\" said the dog. \"By the way, I am very very hungry. Will you\r\ngive me one of the cakes you are carrying?\"\r\n\r\n\"This is the best kind of cake there is in Japan,\" said Momotaro. \"I\r\ncannot spare you a whole one; I will give you half of one.\"\r\n\r\n\"Thank you very much,\" said the dog, taking the piece thrown to him.\r\n\r\nThen Momotaro got up and the dog followed. For a long time they walked\r\nover the hills and through the valleys. As they were going along an\r\nanimal came down from a tree a little ahead of them. The creature soon\r\ncame up to Momotaro and said:\r\n\r\n\"Good morning, Momotaro! You are welcome in this part of the country.\r\nWill you allow me to go with you?\"\r\n\r\nThe dog answered jealously:\r\n\r\n\"Momotaro already has a dog to accompany him. Of what use is a monkey\r\nlike you in battle? We are on our way to fight the devils! Get away!\"\r\n\r\nThe dog and the monkey began to quarrel and bite, for these two animals\r\nalways hate each other.\r\n\r\n\"Now, don't quarrel!\" said Momotaro, putting himself between them.\r\n\"Wait a moment, dog!\"\r\n\r\n\"It is not at all dignified for you to have such a creature as that\r\nfollowing you!\" said the dog.\r\n\r\n\"What do you know about it?\" asked Momotaro; and pushing aside the dog,\r\nhe spoke to the monkey:\r\n\r\n\"Who are you?\"\r\n\r\n\"I am a monkey living in these hills,\" replied the monkey. \"I heard of\r\nyour expedition to the Island of Devils, and I have come to go with\r\nyou. Nothing will please me more than to follow you!\"\r\n\r\n\"Do you really wish to go to the Island of Devils and fight with me?\"\r\n\r\n\"Yes, sir,\" replied the monkey.\r\n\r\n\"I admire your courage,\" said Momotaro. \"Here is a piece of one of my\r\nfine rice-cakes. Come along!\"\r\n\r\nSo the monkey joined Momotaro. The dog and the monkey did not get on\r\nwell together. They were always snapping at each other as they went\r\nalong, and always wanting to have a fight. This made Momotaro very\r\ncross, and at last he sent the dog on ahead with a flag and put the\r\nmonkey behind with a sword, and he placed himself between them with a\r\nwar-fan, which is made of iron.\r\n\r\nBy and by they came to a large field. Here a bird flew down and\r\nalighted on the ground just in front of the little party. It was the\r\nmost beautiful bird Momotaro had ever seen. On its body were five\r\ndifferent robes of feathers and its head was covered with a scarlet cap.\r\n\r\nThe dog at once ran at the bird and tried to seize and kill it. But the\r\nbird struck out its spurs and flew at the dog's tail, and the fight\r\nwent hard with both.\r\n\r\nMomotaro, as he looked on, could not help admiring the bird; it showed\r\nso much spirit in the fight. It would certainly make a good fighter.\r\n\r\nMomotaro went up to the two combatants, and holding the dog back, said\r\nto the bird:\r\n\r\n\"You rascal! you are hindering my journey. Surrender at once, and I\r\nwill take you with me. If you don't I will set this dog to bite your\r\nhead off!\"\r\n\r\nThen the bird surrendered at once, and begged to be taken into\r\nMomotaro's company.\r\n\r\n\"I do not know what excuse to offer for quarreling with the dog, your\r\nservant, but I did not see you. I am a miserable bird called a\r\npheasant. It is very generous of you to pardon my rudeness and to take\r\nme with you. Please allow me to follow you behind the dog and the\r\nmonkey!\"\r\n\r\n\"I congratulate you on surrendering so soon,\" said Momotaro, smiling.\r\n\"Come and join us in our raid on the devils.\"\r\n\r\n\"Are you going to take this bird with you also?\" asked the dog,\r\ninterrupting.\r\n\r\n\"Why do you ask such an unnecessary question? Didn't you hear what I\r\nsaid? I take the bird with me because I wish to!\"\r\n\r\n\"Humph!\" said the dog.\r\n\r\nThen Momotaro stood and gave this order:\r\n\r\n\"Now all of you must listen to me. The first thing necessary in an army\r\nis harmony. It is a wise saying which says that 'Advantage on earth is\r\nbetter than advantage in Heaven!' Union amongst ourselves is better\r\nthan any earthly gain. When we are not at peace amongst ourselves it is\r\nno easy thing to subdue an enemy. From now, you three, the dog, the\r\nmonkey and the pheasant, must be friends with one mind. The one who\r\nfirst begins a quarrel will be discharged on the spot!\"\r\n\r\nAll the three promised not to quarrel. The pheasant was now made a\r\nmember of Momotaro's suite, and received half a cake.\r\n\r\nMomotaro's influence was so great that the three became good friends,\r\nand hurried onwards with him as their leader.\r\n\r\nHurrying on day after day they at last came out upon the shore of the\r\nNorth-Eastern Sea. There was nothing to be seen as far as the\r\nhorizon--not a sign of any island. All that broke the stillness was the\r\nrolling of the waves upon the shore.\r\n\r\nNow, the dog and the monkey and the pheasant had come very bravely all\r\nthe way through the long valleys and over the hills, but they had never\r\nseen the sea before, and for the first time since they set out they\r\nwere bewildered and gazed at each other in silence. How were they to\r\ncross the water and get to the Island of Devils?\r\n\r\nMomotaro soon saw that they were daunted by the sight of the sea, and\r\nto try them he spoke loudly and roughly:\r\n\r\n\"Why do you hesitate? Are you afraid of the sea? Oh! what cowards you\r\nare! It is impossible to take such weak creatures as you with me to\r\nfight the demons. It will be far better for me to go alone. I discharge\r\nyou all at once!\"\r\n\r\nThe three animals were taken aback at this sharp reproof, and clung to\r\nMomotaro's sleeve, begging him not to send them away.\r\n\r\n\"Please, Momotaro!\" said the dog.\r\n\r\n\"We have come thus far!\" said the monkey.\r\n\r\n\"It is inhuman to leave us here!\" said the pheasant.\r\n\r\n\"We are not at all afraid of the sea,\" said the monkey again.\r\n\r\n\"Please do take us with you,\" said the pheasant.\r\n\r\n\"Do please,\" said the dog.\r\n\r\nThey had now gained a little courage, so Momotaro said:\r\n\r\n\"Well, then, I will take you with me, but be careful!\"\r\n\r\nMomotaro now got a small ship, and they all got on board. The wind and\r\nweather were fair, and the ship went like an arrow over the sea. It was\r\nthe first time they had ever been on the water, and so at first the\r\ndog, the monkey and the pheasant were frightened at the waves and the\r\nrolling of the vessel, but by degrees they grew accustomed to the water\r\nand were quite happy again. Every day they paced the deck of their\r\nlittle ship, eagerly looking out for the demons' island.\r\n\r\nWhen they grew tired of this, they told each other stories of all their\r\nexploits of which they were proud, and then played games together; and\r\nMomotaro found much to amuse him in listening to the three animals and\r\nwatching their antics, and in this way he forgot that the way was long\r\nand that he was tired of the voyage and of doing nothing. He longed to\r\nbe at work killing the monsters who had done so much harm in his\r\ncountry.\r\n\r\nAs the wind blew in their favor and they met no storms the ship made a\r\nquick voyage, and one day when the sun was shining brightly a sight of\r\nland rewarded the four watchers at the bow.\r\n\r\nMomotaro knew at once that what they saw was the devils' stronghold. On\r\nthe top of the precipitous shore, looking out to sea, was a large\r\ncastle. Now that his enterprise was close at hand, he was deep in\r\nthought with his head leaning on his hands, wondering how he should\r\nbegin the attack. His three followers watched him, waiting for orders.\r\nAt last he called to the pheasant:\r\n\r\n\"It is a great advantage for us to have you with us.\" said Momotaro to\r\nthe bird, \"for you have good wings. Fly at once to the castle and\r\nengage the demons to fight. We will follow you.\"\r\n\r\nThe pheasant at once obeyed. He flew off from the ship beating the air\r\ngladly with his wings. The bird soon reached the island and took up his\r\nposition on the roof in the middle of the castle, calling out loudly:\r\n\r\n\"All you devils listen to me! The great Japanese general Momotaro has\r\ncome to fight you and to take your stronghold from you. If you wish to\r\nsave your lives surrender at once, and in token of your submission you\r\nmust break off the horns that grow on your forehead. If you do not\r\nsurrender at once, but make up your mind to fight, we, the pheasant,\r\nthe dog and the monkey, will kill you all by biting and tearing you to\r\ndeath!\"\r\n\r\nThe horned demons looking up and only seeing a pheasant, laughed and\r\nsaid:\r\n\r\n\"A wild pheasant, indeed! It is ridiculous to hear such words from a\r\nmean thing like you. Wait till you get a blow from one of our iron\r\nbars!\"\r\n\r\nVery angry, indeed, were the devils. They shook their horns and their\r\nshocks of red hair fiercely, and rushed to put on tiger skin trousers\r\nto make themselves look more terrible. They then brought out great iron\r\nbars and ran to where the pheasant perched over their heads, and tried\r\nto knock him down. The pheasant flew to one side to escape the blow,\r\nand then attacked the head of first one and then another demon. He flew\r\nround and round them, beating the air with his wings so fiercely and\r\nceaselessly, that the devils began to wonder whether they had to fight\r\none or many more birds.\r\n\r\nIn the meantime, Momotaro had brought his ship to land. As they had\r\napproached, he saw that the shore was like a precipice, and that the\r\nlarge castle was surrounded by high walls and large iron gates and was\r\nstrongly fortified.\r\n\r\nMomotaro landed, and with the hope of finding some way of entrance,\r\nwalked up the path towards the top, followed by the monkey and the dog.\r\nThey soon came upon two beautiful damsels washing clothes in a stream.\r\nMomotaro saw that the clothes were blood-stained, and that as the two\r\nmaidens washed, the tears were falling fast down their cheeks. He\r\nstopped and spoke to them:\r\n\r\n\"Who are you, and why do you weep?\"\r\n\r\n\"We are captives of the Demon King. We were carried away from our homes\r\nto this island, and though we are the daughters of Daimios (Lords), we\r\nare obliged to be his servants, and one day he will kill us\"--and the\r\nmaidens held up the blood-stained clothes--\"and eat us, and there is no\r\none to help us!\"\r\n\r\nAnd their tears burst out afresh at this horrible thought.\r\n\r\n\"I will rescue you,\" said Momotaro. \"Do not weep any more, only show me\r\nhow I may get into the castle.\"\r\n\r\nThen the two ladies led the way and showed Momotaro a little back door\r\nin the lowest part of the castle wall--so small that Momotaro could\r\nhardly crawl in.\r\n\r\nThe pheasant, who was all this time fighting hard, saw Momotaro and his\r\nlittle band rush in at the back.\r\n\r\nMomotaro's onslaught was so furious that the devils could not stand\r\nagainst him. At first their foe had been a single bird, the pheasant,\r\nbut now that Momotaro and the dog and the monkey had arrived they were\r\nbewildered, for the four enemies fought like a hundred, so strong were\r\nthey. Some of the devils fell off the parapet of the castle and were\r\ndashed to pieces on the rocks beneath; others fell into the sea and\r\nwere drowned; many were beaten to death by the three animals.\r\n\r\nThe chief of the devils at last was the only one left. He made up his\r\nmind to surrender, for he knew that his enemy was stronger than mortal\r\nman.\r\n\r\nHe came up humbly to Momotaro and threw down his iron bar, and kneeling\r\ndown at the victor's feet he broke off the horns on his head in token\r\nof submission, for they were the sign of his strength and power.\r\n\r\n\"I am afraid of you,\" he said meekly. \"I cannot stand against you. I\r\nwill give you all the treasure hidden in this castle if you will spare\r\nmy life!\"\r\n\r\nMomotaro laughed.\r\n\r\n\"It is not like you, big devil, to beg for mercy, is it? I cannot spare\r\nyour wicked life, however much you beg, for you have killed and\r\ntortured many people and robbed our country for many years.\"\r\n\r\nThen Momotaro tied the devil chief up and gave him into the monkey's\r\ncharge. Having done this, he went into all the rooms of the castle and\r\nset the prisoners free and gathered together all the treasure he found.\r\n\r\nThe dog and the pheasant carried home the plunder, and thus Momotaro\r\nreturned triumphantly to his home, taking with him the devil chief as a\r\ncaptive.\r\n\r\nThe two poor damsels, daughters of Daimios, and others whom the wicked\r\ndemon had carried off to be his slaves, were taken safely to their own\r\nhomes and delivered to their parents.\r\n\r\nThe whole country made a hero of Momotaro on his triumphant return, and\r\nrejoiced that the country was now freed from the robber devils who had\r\nbeen a terror of the land for a long time.\r\n\r\nThe old couple's joy was greater than ever, and the treasure Momotaro\r\nhad brought home with him enabled them to live in peace and plenty to\r\nthe end of their days.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE OGRE OF RASHOMON.\r\n\r\n\r\nLong, long ago in Kyoto, the people of the city were terrified by\r\naccounts of a dreadful ogre, who, it was said, haunted the Gate of\r\nRashomon at twilight and seized whoever passed by. The missing victims\r\nwere never seen again, so it was whispered that the ogre was a horrible\r\ncannibal, who not only killed the unhappy victims but ate them also.\r\nNow everybody in the town and neighborhood was in great fear, and no\r\none durst venture out after sunset near the Gate of Rashomon.\r\n\r\nNow at this time there lived in Kyoto a general named Raiko, who had\r\nmade himself famous for his brave deeds. Some time before this he made\r\nthe country ring with his name, for he had attacked Oeyama, where a\r\nband of ogres lived with their chief, who instead of wine drank the\r\nblood of human beings. He had routed them all and cut off the head of\r\nthe chief monster.\r\n\r\nThis brave warrior was always followed by a band of faithful knights.\r\nIn this band there were five knights of great valor. One evening as the\r\nfive knights sat at a feast quaffing SAKE in their rice bowls and\r\neating all kinds of fish, raw, and stewed, and broiled, and toasting\r\neach other's healths and exploits, the first knight, Hojo, said to the\r\nothers:\r\n\r\n\"Have you all heard the rumor that every evening after sunset there\r\ncomes an ogre to the Gate of Rashomon, and that he seizes all who pass\r\nby?\"\r\n\r\nThe second knight, Watanabe, answered him, saying:\r\n\r\n\"Do not talk such nonsense! All the ogres were killed by our chief\r\nRaiko at Oeyama! It cannot be true, because even if any ogres did\r\nescape from that great killing they would not dare to show themselves\r\nin this city, for they know that our brave master would at once attack\r\nthem if he knew that any of them were still alive!\"\r\n\r\n\"Then do you disbelieve what I say, and think that I am telling you a\r\nfalsehood?\"\r\n\r\n\"No, I do not think that you are telling a lie,\" said Watanabe; \"but\r\nyou have heard some old woman's story which is not worth believing.\"\r\n\r\n\"Then the best plan is to prove what I say, by going there yourself and\r\nfinding out yourself whether it is true or not,\" said Hojo.\r\n\r\nWatanabe, the second knight, could not bear the thought that his\r\ncompanion should believe he was afraid, so he answered quickly:\r\n\r\n\"Of course, I will go at once and find out for myself!\"\r\n\r\nSo Watanabe at once got ready to go--he buckled on his long sword and\r\nput on a coat of armor, and tied on his large helmet. When he was ready\r\nto start he said to the others:\r\n\r\n\"Give me something so that I can prove I have been there!\"\r\n\r\nThen one of the men got a roll of writing paper and his box of Indian\r\nink and brushes, and the four comrades wrote their names on a piece of\r\npaper.\r\n\r\n\"I will take this,\" said Watanabe, \"and put it on the Gate of Rashomon,\r\nso to-morrow morning will you all go and look at it? I may be able to\r\ncatch an ogre or two by then!\" and he mounted his horse and rode off\r\ngallantly.\r\n\r\nIt was a very dark night, and there was neither moon nor star to light\r\nWatanabe on his way. To make the darkness worse a storm came on, the\r\nrain fell heavily and the wind howled like wolves in the mountains. Any\r\nordinary man would have trembled at the thought of going out of doors,\r\nbut Watanabe was a brave warrior and dauntless, and his honor and word\r\nwere at stake, so he sped on into the night, while his companions\r\nlistened to the sound of his horse's hoofs dying away in the distance,\r\nthen shut the sliding shutters close and gathered round the charcoal\r\nfire and wondered what would happen--and whether their comrade would\r\nencounter one of those horrible Oni.\r\n\r\nAt last Watanabe reached the Gate of Rashomon, but peer as he might\r\nthrough the darkness he could see no sign of an ogre.\r\n\r\n\"It is just as I thought,\" said Watanabe to himself; \"there are\r\ncertainly no ogres here; it is only an old woman's story. I will stick\r\nthis paper on the gate so that the others can see I have been here when\r\nthey come to-morrow, and then I will take my way home and laugh at them\r\nall.\"\r\n\r\nHe fastened the piece of paper, signed by all his four companions, on\r\nthe gate, and then turned his horse's head towards home.\r\n\r\nAs he did so he became aware that some one was behind him, and at the\r\nsame time a voice called out to him to wait. Then his helmet was seized\r\nfrom the back. \"Who are you?\" said Watanabe fearlessly. He then put out\r\nhis hand and groped around to find out who or what it was that held him\r\nby the helmet. As he did so he touched something that felt like an\r\narm--it was covered with hair and as big round as the trunk of a tree!\r\n\r\nWatanabe knew at once that this was the arm of an ogre, so he drew his\r\nsword and cut at it fiercely.\r\n\r\nThere was a loud yell of pain, and then the ogre dashed in front of the\r\nwarrior.\r\n\r\nWatanabe's eyes grew large with wonder, for he saw that the ogre was\r\ntaller than the great gate, his eyes were flashing like mirrors in the\r\nsunlight, and his huge mouth was wide open, and as the monster\r\nbreathed, flames of fire shot out of his mouth.\r\n\r\nThe ogre thought to terrify his foe, but Watanabe never flinched. He\r\nattacked the ogre with all his strength, and thus they fought face to\r\nface for a long time. At last the ogre, finding that he could neither\r\nfrighten nor beat Watanabe and that he might himself be beaten, took to\r\nflight. But Watanabe, determined not to let the monster escape, put\r\nspurs to his horse and gave chase.\r\n\r\nBut though the knight rode very fast the ogre ran faster, and to his\r\ndisappointment he found himself unable to overtake the monster, who was\r\ngradually lost to sight.\r\n\r\nWatanabe returned to the gate where the fierce fight had taken place,\r\nand got down from his horse. As he did so he stumbled upon something\r\nlying on the ground.\r\n\r\nStooping to pick it up he found that it was one of the ogre's huge arms\r\nwhich he must have slashed off in the fight. His joy was great at\r\nhaving secured such a prize, for this was the best of all proofs of his\r\nadventure with the ogre. So he took it up carefully and carried it home\r\nas a trophy of his victory.\r\n\r\nWhen he got back, he showed the arm to his comrades, who one and all\r\ncalled him the hero of their band and gave him a great feast. His\r\nwonderful deed was soon noised abroad in Kyoto, and people from far and\r\nnear came to see the ogre's arm.\r\n\r\nWatanabe now began to grow uneasy as to how he should keep the arm in\r\nsafety, for he knew that the ogre to whom it belonged was still alive.\r\nHe felt sure that one day or other, as soon as the ogre got over his\r\nscare, he would come to try to get his arm back again. Watanabe\r\ntherefore had a box made of the strongest wood and banded with iron. In\r\nthis he placed the arm, and then he sealed down the heavy lid, refusing\r\nto open it for anyone. He kept the box in his own room and took charge\r\nof it himself, never allowing it out of his sight.\r\n\r\nNow one night he heard some one knocking at the porch, asking for\r\nadmittance.\r\n\r\nWhen the servant went to the door to see who it was, there was only an\r\nold woman, very respectable in appearance. On being asked who she was\r\nand what was her business, the old woman replied with a smile that she\r\nhad been nurse to the master of the house when he was a little baby. If\r\nthe lord of the house were at home she begged to be allowed to see him.\r\n\r\nThe servant left the old woman at the door and went to tell his master\r\nthat his old nurse had come to see him. Watanabe thought it strange\r\nthat she should come at that time of night, but at the thought of his\r\nold nurse, who had been like a foster-mother to him and whom he had not\r\nseen for a long time, a very tender feeling sprang up for her in his\r\nheart. He ordered the servant to show her in.\r\n\r\nThe old woman was ushered into the room, and after the customary bows\r\nand greetings were over, she said:\r\n\r\n\"Master, the report of your brave fight with the ogre at the Gate of\r\nRashomon is so widely known that even your poor old nurse has heard of\r\nit. Is it really true, what every one says, that you cut off one of the\r\nogre's arms? If you did, your deed is highly to be praised!\"\r\n\r\n\"I was very disappointed,\" said Watanabe, \"that I was not able take the\r\nmonster captive, which was what I wished to do, instead of only cutting\r\noff an arm!\"\r\n\r\n\"I am very proud to think,\" answered the old woman, \"that my master was\r\nso brave as to dare to cut off an ogre's arm. There is nothing that can\r\nbe compared to your courage. Before I die it is the great wish of my\r\nlife to see this arm,\" she added pleadingly.\r\n\r\n\"No,\" said Watanabe, \"I am sorry, but I cannot grant your request.\"\r\n\r\n\"But why?\" asked the old woman.\r\n\r\n\"Because,\" replied Watanabe, \"ogres are very revengeful creatures, and\r\nif I open the box there is no telling but that the ogre may suddenly\r\nappear and carry off his arm. I have had a box made on purpose with a\r\nvery strong lid, and in this box I keep the ogre's arm secure; and I\r\nnever show it to any one, whatever happens.\"\r\n\r\n\"Your precaution is very reasonable,\" said the old woman. \"But I am\r\nyour old nurse, so surely you will not refuse to show ME the arm. I\r\nhave only just heard of your brave act, and not being able to wait till\r\nthe morning I came at once to ask you to show it to me.\"\r\n\r\nWatanabe was very troubled at the old woman's pleading, but he still\r\npersisted in refusing. Then the old woman said:\r\n\r\n\"Do you suspect me of being a spy sent by the ogre?\"\r\n\r\n\"No, of course I do not suspect you of being the ogre's spy, for you\r\nare my old nurse,\" answered Watanabe.\r\n\r\n\"Then you cannot surely refuse to show me the arm any longer.\"\r\nentreated the old woman; \"for it is the great wish of my heart to see\r\nfor once in my life the arm of an ogre!\"\r\n\r\nWatanabe could not hold out in his refusal any longer, so he gave in at\r\nlast, saying:\r\n\r\n\"Then I will show you the ogre's arm, since you so earnestly wish to\r\nsee it. Come, follow me!\" and he led the way to his own room, the old\r\nwoman following.\r\n\r\nWhen they were both in the room Watanabe shut the door carefully, and\r\nthen going towards a big box which stood in a corner of the room, he\r\ntook off the heavy lid. He then called to the old woman to come near\r\nand look in, for he never took the arm out of the box.\r\n\r\n\"What is it like? Let me have a good look at it,\" said the old nurse,\r\nwith a joyful face.\r\n\r\nShe came nearer and nearer, as if she were afraid, till she stood right\r\nagainst the box. Suddenly she plunged her hand into the box and seized\r\nthe arm, crying with a fearful voice which made the room shake:\r\n\r\n\"Oh, joy! I have got my arm back again!\"\r\n\r\nAnd from an old woman she was suddenly transformed into the towering\r\nfigure of the frightful ogre!\r\n\r\nWatanabe sprang back and was unable to move for a moment, so great was\r\nhis astonishment; but recognizing the ogre who had attacked him at the\r\nGate of Rashomon, he determined with his usual courage to put an end to\r\nhim this time. He seized his sword, drew it out of its sheath in a\r\nflash, and tried to cut the ogre down.\r\n\r\nSo quick was Watanabe that the creature had a narrow escape. But the\r\nogre sprang up to the ceiling, and bursting through the roof,\r\ndisappeared in the mist and clouds.\r\n\r\nIn this way the ogre escaped with his arm. The knight gnashed his teeth\r\nwith disappointment, but that was all he could do. He waited in\r\npatience for another opportunity to dispatch the ogre. But the latter\r\nwas afraid of Watanabe's great strength and daring, and never troubled\r\nKyoto again. So once more the people of the city were able to go out\r\nwithout fear even at night time, and the brave deeds of Watanabe have\r\nnever been forgotten!\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nHOW AN OLD MAN LOST HIS WEN.\r\n\r\n\r\nMany, many years ago there lived a good old man who had a wen like a\r\ntennis-ball growing out of his right cheek. This lump was a great\r\ndisfigurement to the old man, and so annoyed him that for many years he\r\nspent all his time and money in trying to get rid of it. He tried\r\neverything he could think of. He consulted many doctors far and near,\r\nand took all kinds of medicines both internally and externally. But it\r\nwas all of no use. The lump only grew bigger and bigger till it was\r\nnearly as big as his face, and in despair he gave up all hopes of ever\r\nlosing it, and resigned himself to the thought of having to carry the\r\nlump on his face all his life.\r\n\r\nOne day the firewood gave out in his kitchen, so, as his wife wanted\r\nsome at once, the old man took his ax and set out for the woods up\r\namong the hills not very far from his home. It was a fine day in the\r\nearly autumn, and the old man enjoyed the fresh air and was in no hurry\r\nto get home. So the whole afternoon passed quickly while he was\r\nchopping wood, and he had collected a goodly pile to take back to his\r\nwife. When the day began to draw to a close, he turned his face\r\nhomewards.\r\n\r\nThe old man had not gone far on his way down the mountain pass when the\r\nsky clouded and rain began to fall heavily. He looked about for some\r\nshelter, but there was not even a charcoal-burner's hut near. At last\r\nhe espied a large hole in the hollow trunk of a tree. The hole was near\r\nthe ground, so he crept in easily, and sat down in hopes that he had\r\nonly been overtaken by a mountain shower, and that the weather would\r\nsoon clear.\r\n\r\nBut much to the old man's disappointment, instead of clearing the rain\r\nfell more and more heavily, and finally a heavy thunderstorm broke over\r\nthe mountain. The thunder roared so terrifically, and the heavens\r\nseemed to be so ablaze with lightning, that the old man could hardly\r\nbelieve himself to be alive. He thought that he must die of fright. At\r\nlast, however, the sky cleared, and the whole country was aglow in the\r\nrays of the setting sun. The old man's spirits revived when he looked\r\nout at the beautiful twilight, and he was about to step out from his\r\nstrange hiding-place in the hollow tree when the sound of what seemed\r\nlike the approaching steps of several people caught his ear. He at once\r\nthought that his friends had come to look for him, and he was delighted\r\nat the idea of having some jolly companions with whom to walk home. But\r\non looking out from the tree, what was his amazement to see, not his\r\nfriends, but hundreds of demons coming towards the spot. The more he\r\nlooked, the greater was his astonishment. Some of these demons were as\r\nlarge as giants, others had great big eyes out of all proportion to the\r\nrest of their bodies, others again had absurdly long noses, and some\r\nhad such big mouths that they seemed to open from ear to ear. All had\r\nhorns growing on their foreheads. The old man was so surprised at what\r\nhe saw that he lost his balance and fell out of the hollow tree.\r\nFortunately for him the demons did not see him, as the tree was in the\r\nbackground. So he picked himself up and crept back into the tree.\r\n\r\nWhile he was sitting there and wondering impatiently when he would be\r\nable to get home, he heard the sounds of gay music, and then some of\r\nthe demons began to sing.\r\n\r\n\"What are these creatures doing?\" said the old man to himself. \"I will\r\nlook out, it sounds very amusing.\"\r\n\r\nOn peeping out, the old man saw that the demon chief himself was\r\nactually sitting with his back against the tree in which he had taken\r\nrefuge, and all the other demons were sitting round, some drinking and\r\nsome dancing. Food and wine was spread before them on the ground, and\r\nthe demons were evidently having a great entertainment and enjoying\r\nthemselves immensely.\r\n\r\nIt made the old man laugh to see their strange antics.\r\n\r\n\"How amusing this is!\" laughed the old man to himself \"I am now quite\r\nold, but I have never seen anything so strange in all my life.\"\r\n\r\nHe was so interested and excited in watching all that the demons were\r\ndoing, that he forgot himself and stepped out of the tree and stood\r\nlooking on.\r\n\r\nThe demon chief was just taking a big cup of SAKE and watching one of\r\nthe demons dancing. In a little while he said with a bored air:\r\n\r\n\"Your dance is rather monotonous. I am tired of watching it. Isn't\r\nthere any one amongst you all who can dance better than this fellow?\"\r\n\r\nNow the old man had been fond of dancing all his life, and was quite an\r\nexpert in the art, and he knew that he could do much better than the\r\ndemon.\r\n\r\n\"Shall I go and dance before these demons and let them see what a human\r\nbeing can do? It may be dangerous, for if I don't please them they may\r\nkill me!\" said the old fellow to himself.\r\n\r\nHis fears, however, were soon overcome by his love of dancing. In a few\r\nminutes he could restrain himself no longer, and came out before the\r\nwhole party of demons and began to dance at once. The old man,\r\nrealizing that his life probably depended on whether he pleased these\r\nstrange creatures or not, exerted his skill and wit to the utmost.\r\n\r\nThe demons were at first very surprised to see a man so fearlessly\r\ntaking part in their entertainment, and then their surprise soon gave\r\nplace to admiration.\r\n\r\n\"How strange!\" exclaimed the horned chief. \"I never saw such a skillful\r\ndancer before! He dances admirably!\"\r\n\r\nWhen the old man had finished his dance, the big demon said:\r\n\r\n\"Thank you very much for your amusing dance. Now give us the pleasure\r\nof drinking a cup of wine with us,\" and with these words he handed him\r\nhis largest wine-cup.\r\n\r\nThe old man thanked him very humbly:\r\n\r\n\"I did not expect such kindness from your lordship. I fear I have only\r\ndisturbed your pleasant party by my unskillful dancing.\"\r\n\r\n\"No, no,\" answered the big demon. \"You must come often and dance for\r\nus. Your skill has given us much pleasure.\"\r\n\r\nThe old man thanked him again and promised to do so.\r\n\r\n\"Then will you come again to-morrow, old man?\" asked the demon.\r\n\r\n\"Certainly, I will,\" answered the old man.\r\n\r\n\"Then you must leave some pledge of your word with us,\" said the demon.\r\n\r\n\"Whatever you like,\" said the old man.\r\n\r\n\"Now what is the best thing he can leave with us as a pledge?\" asked\r\nthe demon, looking round.\r\n\r\nThen said one of the demon's attendants kneeling behind the chief:\r\n\r\n\"The token he leaves with us must be the most important thing to him in\r\nhis possession. I see the old man has a wen on his right cheek. Now\r\nmortal men consider such a wen very fortunate. Let my lord take the\r\nlump from the old man's right cheek, and he will surely come to-morrow,\r\nif only to get that back.\"\r\n\r\n\"You are very clever,\" said the demon chief, giving his horns an\r\napproving nod. Then he stretched out a hairy arm and claw-like hand,\r\nand took the great lump from the old man's right cheek. Strange to say,\r\nit came off as easily as a ripe plum from the tree at the demon's\r\ntouch, and then the merry troop of demons suddenly vanished.\r\n\r\nThe old man was lost in bewilderment by all that had happened. He\r\nhardly knew for some time where he was. When he came to understand what\r\nhad happened to him, he was delighted to find that the lump on his\r\nface, which had for so many years disfigured him, had really been taken\r\naway without any pain to himself. He put up his hand to feel if any\r\nscar remained, but found that his right cheek was as smooth as his left.\r\n\r\nThe sun had long set, and the young moon had risen like a silver\r\ncrescent in the sky. The old man suddenly realized how late it was and\r\nbegan to hurry home. He patted his right cheek all the time, as if to\r\nmake sure of his good fortune in having lost the wen. He was so happy\r\nthat he found it impossible to walk quietly--he ran and danced the\r\nwhole way home.\r\n\r\nHe found his wife very anxious, wondering what had happened to make him\r\nso late. He soon told her all that had passed since he left home that\r\nafternoon. She was quite as happy as her husband when he showed her\r\nthat the ugly lump had disappeared from his face, for in her youth she\r\nhad prided herself on his good looks, and it had been a daily grief to\r\nher to see the horrid growth.\r\n\r\nNow next door to this good old couple there lived a wicked and\r\ndisagreeable old man. He, too, had for many years been troubled with\r\nthe growth of a wen on his left cheek, and he, too, had tried all\r\nmanner of things to get rid of it, but in vain.\r\n\r\nHe heard at once, through the servant, of his neighbor's good luck in\r\nlosing the lump on his face, so he called that very evening and asked\r\nhis friend to tell him everything that concerned the loss of it. The\r\ngood old man told his disagreeable neighbor all that had happened to\r\nhim. He described the place where he would find the hollow tree in\r\nwhich to hide, and advised him to be on the spot in the late afternoon\r\ntowards the time of sunset.\r\n\r\nThe old neighbor started out the very next afternoon, and after hunting\r\nabout for some time, came to the hollow tree just as his friend had\r\ndescribed. Here he hid himself and waited for the twilight.\r\n\r\nJust as he had been told, the band of demons came at that hour and held\r\na feast with dance and song. When this had gone on for some time the\r\nchief of the demons looked around and said:\r\n\r\n\"It is now time for the old man to come as he promised us. Why doesn't\r\nhe come?\"\r\n\r\nWhen the second old man heard these words he ran out of his\r\nhiding-place in the tree and, kneeling down before the Oni, said:\r\n\r\n\"I have been waiting for a long time for you to speak!\"\r\n\r\n\"Ah, you are the old man of yesterday,\" said the demon chief. \"Thank\r\nyou for coming, you must dance for us soon.\"\r\n\r\nThe old man now stood up and opened his fan and began to dance. But he\r\nhad never learned to dance, and knew nothing about the necessary\r\ngestures and different positions. He thought that anything would please\r\nthe demons, so he just hopped about, waving his arms and stamping his\r\nfeet, imitating as well as he could any dancing he had ever seen.\r\n\r\nThe Oni were very dissatisfied at this exhibition, and said amongst\r\nthemselves:\r\n\r\n\"How badly he dances to-day!\"\r\n\r\nThen to the old man the demon chief said:\r\n\r\n\"Your performance to-day is quite different from the dance of\r\nyesterday. We don't wish to see any more of such dancing. We will give\r\nyou back the pledge you left with us. You must go away at once.\"\r\n\r\nWith these words he took out from a fold of his dress the lump which he\r\nhad taken from the face of the old man who had danced so well the day\r\nbefore, and threw it at the right cheek of the old man who stood before\r\nhim. The lump immediately attached itself to his cheek as firmly as if\r\nit had grown there always, and all attempts to pull it off were\r\nuseless. The wicked old man, instead of losing the lump on his left\r\ncheek as he had hoped, found to his dismay that he had but added\r\nanother to his right cheek in his attempt to get rid of the first.\r\n\r\nHe put up first one hand and then the other to each side of his face to\r\nmake sure if he were not dreaming a horrible nightmare. No, sure enough\r\nthere was now a great wen on the right side of his face as on the left.\r\nThe demons had all disappeared, and there was nothing for him to do but\r\nto return home. He was a pitiful sight, for his face, with the two\r\nlarge lumps, one on each side, looked just like a Japanese gourd.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE STONES OF FIVE COLORS AND THE EMPRESS JOKWA.\r\n\r\nAN OLD CHINESE STORY.\r\n\r\n\r\nLong, long ago there lived a great Chinese Empress who succeeded her\r\nbrother the Emperor Fuki. It was the age of giants, and the Empress\r\nJokwa, for that was her name, was twenty-five feet high, nearly as tall\r\nas her brother. She was a wonderful woman, and an able ruler. There is\r\nan interesting story of how she mended a part of the broken heavens and\r\none of the terrestrial pillars which upheld the sky, both of which were\r\ndamaged during a rebellion raised by one of King Fuki's subjects.\r\n\r\nThe rebel's name was Kokai. He was twenty-six feet high. His body was\r\nentirely covered with hair, and his face was as black as iron. He was a\r\nwizard and a very terrible character indeed. When the Emperor Fuki\r\ndied, Kokai was bitten with the ambition to be Emperor of China, but\r\nhis plan failed, and Jokwa, the dead Emperor's sister, mounted the\r\nthrone. Kokai was so angry at being thwarted in his desire that he\r\nraised a revolt. His first act was to employ the Water Devil, who\r\ncaused a great flood to rush over the country. This swamped the poor\r\npeople out of their homes, and when the Empress Jokwa saw the plight of\r\nher subjects, and knew it was Kokai's fault, she declared war against\r\nhim.\r\n\r\nNow Jokwa, the Empress, had two young warriors called Hako and Eiko,\r\nand the former she made General of the front forces. Hako was delighted\r\nthat the Empress's choice should fall on him, and he prepared himself\r\nfor battle. He took up the longest lance he could find and mounted a\r\nred horse, and was just about to set out when he heard some one\r\ngalloping hard behind him and shouting:\r\n\r\n\"Hako! Stop! The general of the front forces must be I!\"\r\n\r\nHe looked back and saw Eiko his comrade, riding on a white horse, in\r\nthe act of unsheathing a large sword to draw upon him. Hako's anger was\r\nkindled, and as he turned to face his rival he cried:\r\n\r\n\"Insolent wretch! I have been appointed by the Empress to lead the\r\nfront forces to battle. Do you dare to stop me?\"\r\n\r\n\"Yes,\" answered Eiko. \"I ought to lead the army. It is you who should\r\nfollow me.\"\r\n\r\nAt this bold reply Hako's anger burst from a spark into a flame.\r\n\r\n\"Dare you answer me thus? Take that,\" and he lunged at him with his\r\nlance.\r\n\r\nBut Eiko moved quickly aside, and at the same time, raising his sword,\r\nhe wounded the head of the General's horse. Obliged to dismount, Hako\r\nwas about to rush at his antagonist, when Eiko, as quick as lightning,\r\ntore from his breast the badge of commandership and galloped away. The\r\naction was so quick that Hako stood dazed, not knowing what to do.\r\n\r\nThe Empress had been a spectator of the scene, and she could not but\r\nadmire the quickness of the ambitious Eiko, and in order to pacify the\r\nrivals she determined to appoint them both to the Generalship of the\r\nfront army.\r\n\r\nSo Hako was made commander of the left wing of the front army, and Eiko\r\nof the right. One hundred thousand soldiers followed them and marched\r\nto put down the rebel Kokai.\r\n\r\nWithin a short time the two Generals reached the castle where Kokai had\r\nfortified himself. When aware of their approach, the wizard said:\r\n\r\n\"I will blow these two poor children away with one breath.\" (He little\r\nthought how hard he would find the fight.)\r\n\r\nWith these words Kokai seized an iron rod and mounted a black horse,\r\nand rushed forth like an angry tiger to meet his two foes.\r\n\r\nAs the two young warriors saw him tearing down upon them, they said to\r\neach other: \"We must not let him escape alive,\" and they attacked him\r\nfrom the right and from the left with sword and with lance. But the\r\nall-powerful Kokai was not to be easily beaten--he whirled his iron rod\r\nround like a great water-wheel, and for a long time they fought thus,\r\nneither side gaining nor losing. At last, to avoid the wizard's iron\r\nrod, Hako turned his horse too quickly; the animal's hoofs struck\r\nagainst a large stone, and in a fright the horse reared as straight on\r\nend as a screen, throwing his master to the ground.\r\n\r\nThereupon Kokai drew his three-edged sword and was about to kill the\r\nprostrate Hako, but before the wizard could work his wicked will the\r\nbrave Eiko had wheeled his horse in front of Kokai and dared him to try\r\nhis strength with him, and not to kill a fallen man. But Kokai was\r\ntired, and he did not feel inclined to face this fresh and dauntless\r\nyoung soldier, so suddenly wheeling his horse round, he fled from the\r\nfray.\r\n\r\nHako, who had been only slightly stunned, had by this time got upon his\r\nfeet, and he and his comrade rushed after the retreating enemy, the one\r\non foot and the other on horseback.\r\n\r\nKokai, seeing that he was pursued, turned upon his nearest assailant,\r\nwho was, of course, the mounted Eiko, and drawing forth an arrow from\r\nthe quiver at his back, fitted it to his bow and drew upon Eiko.\r\n\r\nAs quick as lightning the wary Eiko avoided the shaft, which only\r\ntouched his helmet strings, and glancing off, fell harmless against\r\nHako's coat of armor.\r\n\r\nThe wizard saw that both his enemies remained unscathed. He also knew\r\nthat there was no time to pull a second arrow before they would be upon\r\nhim, so to save himself he resorted to magic. He stretched forth his\r\nwand, and immediately a great flood arose, and Jokwa's army and her\r\nbrave young Generals were swept away like a falling of autumn leaves on\r\na stream.\r\n\r\nHako and Eiko found themselves struggling neck deep in water, and\r\nlooking round they saw the ferocious Kokai making towards them through\r\nthe water with his iron rod on high. They thought every moment that\r\nthey would be cut down, but they bravely struck out to swim as far as\r\nthey could from Kokai's reach. All of a sudden they found themselves in\r\nfront of what seemed to be an island rising straight out of the water.\r\nThey looked up, and there stood an old man with hair as white as snow,\r\nsmiling at them. They cried to him to help them. The old man nodded his\r\nhead and came down to the edge of the water. As soon as his feet\r\ntouched the flood it divided, and a good road appeared, to the\r\namazement of the drowning men, who now found themselves safe.\r\n\r\nKokai had by this time reached the island which had risen as if by a\r\nmiracle out of the water, and seeing his enemies thus saved he was\r\nfurious. He rushed through the water upon the old man, and it seemed as\r\nif he would surely be killed. But the old man appeared not in the least\r\ndismayed, and calmly awaited the wizard's onslaught.\r\n\r\nAs Kokai drew near, the old man laughed aloud merrily, and turning into\r\na large and beautiful white crane, flapped his wings and flew upwards\r\ninto the heavens.\r\n\r\nWhen Hako and Eiko saw this, they knew that their deliverer was no mere\r\nhuman being--was perhaps a god in disguise--and they hoped later on to\r\nfind out who the venerable old man was.\r\n\r\nIn the meantime they had retreated, and it being now the close of day,\r\nfor the sun was setting, both Kokai and the young warriors gave up the\r\nidea of fighting more that day.\r\n\r\nThat night Hako and Eiko decided that it was useless to fight against\r\nthe wizard Kokai, for he had supernatural powers, while they were only\r\nhuman. So they presented themselves before the Empress Jokwa. After a\r\nlong consultation, the Empress decided to ask the Fire King, Shikuyu,\r\nto help her against the rebel wizard and to lead her army against him.\r\n\r\nNow Shikuyu, the Fire King, lived at the South Pole. It was the only\r\nsafe place for him to be in, for he burnt up everything around him\r\nanywhere else, but it was impossible to burn up ice and snow. To look\r\nat he was a giant, and stood thirty feet high. His face was just like\r\nmarble, and his hair and beard long and as white as snow. His strength\r\nwas stupendous, and he was master of all fire just as Kokai was of\r\nwater.\r\n\r\n\"Surely,\" thought the Empress, \"Shikuyu can conquer Kokai.\" So she sent\r\nEiko to the South Pole to beg Shikuyu to take the war against Kokai\r\ninto his own hands and conquer him once for all.\r\n\r\nThe Fire King, on hearing the Empress's request, smiled and said:\r\n\r\n\"That is an easy matter, to be sure! It was none other than I who came\r\nto your rescue when you and your companion were drowning in the flood\r\nraised by Kokai!\"\r\n\r\nEiko was surprised at learning this. He thanked the Fire King for\r\ncoming to the rescue in their dire need, and then besought him to\r\nreturn with him and lead the war and defeat the wicked Kokai.\r\n\r\nShikuyu did as he was asked, and returned with Eiko to the Empress. She\r\nwelcomed the Fire King cordially, and at once told him why she had sent\r\nfor him--to ask him to be the Generalissimo of her army. His reply was\r\nvery reassuring:\r\n\r\n\"Do not have any anxiety. I will certainly kill Kokai.\"\r\n\r\nShikuyu then placed himself at the head of thirty thousand soldiers,\r\nand with Hako and Eiko showing him the way, marched to the enemy's\r\ncastle. The Fire King knew the secret of Kokai's power, and he now told\r\nall the soldiers to gather a certain kind of shrub. This they burned in\r\nlarge quantities, and each soldier was then ordered to fill a bag full\r\nof the ashes thus obtained.\r\n\r\nKokai, on the other hand, in his own conceit, thought that Shikuyu was\r\nof inferior power to himself, and he murmured angrily:\r\n\r\n\"Even though you are the Fire King, I can soon extinguish you.\"\r\n\r\nThen he repeated an incantation, and the water-floods rose and welled\r\nas high as mountains. Shikuyu, not in the least frightened, ordered his\r\nsoldiers to scatter the ashes which he had caused them to make. Every\r\nman did as he was bid, and such was the power of the plant that they\r\nhad burned, that as soon as the ashes mingled with the water a stiff\r\nmud was formed, and they were all safe from drowning.\r\n\r\nNow Kokai the wizard was dismayed when he saw that the Fire King was\r\nsuperior in wisdom to himself, and his anger was so great that he\r\nrushed headlong towards the enemy.\r\n\r\nEiko rode to meet him, and the two fought together for some time. They\r\nwere well matched in a hand-to-hand combat. Hako, who was carefully\r\nwatching the fray, saw that Eiko began to tire, and fearing that his\r\ncompanion would be killed, he took his place.\r\n\r\nBut Kokai had tired as well, and feeling him self unable to hold out\r\nagainst Hako, he said artfully:\r\n\r\n\"You are too magnanimous, thus to fight for your friend and run the\r\nrisk of being killed. I will not hurt such a good man.\"\r\n\r\nAnd he pretended to retreat, turning away the head of his horse. His\r\nintention was to throw Hako off his guard and then to wheel round and\r\ntake him by surprise.\r\n\r\nBut Shikuyu understood the wily wizard, and he spoke at once:\r\n\r\n\"You are a coward! You cannot deceive me!\"\r\n\r\nSaying this, the Fire King made a sign to the unwary Hako to attack\r\nhim. Kokai now turned upon Shikuyu furiously, but he was tired and\r\nunable to fight well, and he soon received a wound in his shoulder. He\r\nnow broke from the fray and tried to escape in earnest.\r\n\r\nWhile the fight between their leaders had been going on the two armies\r\nhad stood waiting for the issue. Shikuyu now turned and bade Jokwa's\r\nsoldiers charge the enemy's forces. This they did, and routed them with\r\ngreat slaughter, and the wizard barely escaped with his life.\r\n\r\nIt was in vain that Kokai called upon the Water Devil to help him, for\r\nShikuyu knew the counter-charm. The wizard found that the battle was\r\nagainst him. Mad with pain, for his wound began to trouble him, and\r\nfrenzied with disappointment and fear, he dashed his head against the\r\nrocks of Mount Shu and died on the spot.\r\n\r\nThere was an end of the wicked Kokai, but not of trouble in the Empress\r\nJokwa's Kingdom, as you shall see. The force with which the wizard fell\r\nagainst the rocks was so great that the mountain burst, and fire rushed\r\nout from the earth, and one of the pillars upholding the Heavens was\r\nbroken so that one corner of the sky dropped till it touched the earth.\r\n\r\nShikuyu, the Fire King, took up the body of the wizard and carried it\r\nto the Empress Jokwa, who rejoiced greatly that her enemy was\r\nvanquished, and her generals victorious. She showered all manner of\r\ngifts and honors upon Shikuyu.\r\n\r\nBut all this time fire was bursting from the mountain broken by the\r\nfall of Kokai. Whole villages were destroyed, rice-fields burnt up,\r\nriver beds filled with the burning lava, and the homeless people were\r\nin great distress. So the Empress left the capital as soon as she had\r\nrewarded the victor Shikuyu, and journeyed with all speed to the scene\r\nof disaster. She found that both Heaven and earth had sustained damage,\r\nand the place was so dark that she had to light her lamp to find out\r\nthe extent of the havoc that had been wrought.\r\n\r\nHaving ascertained this, she set to work at repairs. To this end she\r\nordered her subjects to collect stones of five colors--blue, yellow,\r\nred, white and black. When she had obtained these, she boiled them with\r\na kind of porcelain in a large caldron, and the mixture became a\r\nbeautiful paste, and with this she knew that she could mend the sky.\r\nNow all was ready.\r\n\r\nSummoning the clouds that were sailing ever so high above her head, she\r\nmounted them, and rode heavenwards, carrying in her hands the vase\r\ncontaining the paste made from the stones of five colors. She soon\r\nreached the corner of the sky that was broken, and applied the paste\r\nand mended it. Having done this, she turned her attention to the broken\r\npillar, and with the legs of a very large tortoise she mended it. When\r\nthis was finished she mounted the clouds and descended to the earth,\r\nhoping to find that all was now right, but to her dismay she found that\r\nit was still quite dark. Neither the sun shone by day nor the moon by\r\nnight.\r\n\r\nGreatly perplexed, she at last called a meeting of all the wise men of\r\nthe Kingdom, and asked their advice as to what she should do in this\r\ndilemma.\r\n\r\nTwo of the wisest said:\r\n\r\n\"The roads of Heaven have been damaged by the late accident, and the\r\nSun and Moon have been obliged to stay at home. Neither the Sun could\r\nmake his daily journey nor the Moon her nightly one because of the bad\r\nroads. The Sun and Moon do not yet know that your Majesty has mended\r\nall that was damaged, so we will go and inform them that since you have\r\nrepaired them the roads are safe.\"\r\n\r\nThe Empress approved of what the wise men suggested, and ordered them\r\nto set out on their mission. But this was not easy, for the Palace of\r\nthe Sun and Moon was many, many hundreds of thousands of miles distant\r\ninto the East. If they traveled on foot they might never reach the\r\nplace, they would die of old age on the road. But Jokwa had recourse to\r\nmagic. She gave her two ambassadors wonderful chariots which could\r\nwhirl through the air by magic power a thousand miles per minute. They\r\nset out in good spirits, riding above the clouds, and after many days\r\nthey reached the country where the Sun and the Moon were living happily\r\ntogether.\r\n\r\nThe two ambassadors were granted an interview with their Majesties of\r\nLight and asked them why they had for so many days secluded themselves\r\nfrom the Universe? Did they not know that by doing so they plunged the\r\nworld and all its people into uttermost darkness both day and night?\r\n\r\nReplied the Sun and the Moon:\r\n\r\n\"Surely you know that Mount Shu has suddenly burst forth with fire, and\r\nthe roads of Heaven have been greatly damaged! I, the Sun, found it\r\nimpossible to make my daily journey along such rough roads--and\r\ncertainly the Moon could not issue forth at night! so we both retired\r\ninto private life for a time.\"\r\n\r\nThen the two wise men bowed themselves to the ground and said:\r\n\r\n\"Our Empress Jokwa has already repaired the roads with the wonderful\r\nstones of five colors, so we beg to assure your Majesties that the\r\nroads are just as they were before the eruption took place.\"\r\n\r\nBut the Sun and the Moon still hesitated, saying that they had heard\r\nthat one of the pillars of Heaven had been broken as well, and they\r\nfeared that, even if the roads had been remade, it would still be\r\ndangerous for them to sally forth on their usual journeys.\r\n\r\n\"You need have no anxiety about the broken pillar,\" said the two\r\nambassadors. \"Our Empress restored it with the legs of a great\r\ntortoise, and it is as firm as ever it was.\"\r\n\r\nThen the Sun and Moon appeared satisfied, and they both set out to try\r\nthe roads. They found that what the Empress's deputies had told them\r\nwas correct.\r\n\r\nAfter the examination of the heavenly roads, the Sun and Moon again\r\ngave light to the earth. All the people rejoiced greatly, and peace and\r\nprosperity were secured in China for a long time under the reign of the\r\nwise Empress Jokwa.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTHE END.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nEnd of Project Gutenberg's Japanese Fairy Tales, by Yei Theodora Ozaki\r\n\r\n*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK JAPANESE FAIRY TALES ***\r\n\r\n***** This file should be named 4018.txt or 4018.zip *****\r\nThis and all associated files of various formats will be found in:\r\n        http://www.gutenberg.org/4/0/1/4018/\r\n\r\nProduced by Charles Franks, Greg Weeks and the Online\r\nDistributed Proofreading Team. 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    {
        "id": 3,
        "title": "The Scarlet Plague",
        "author": "Jack London",
        "body": "I\n\nTHE way led along upon what had once been the embankment of a railroad.\r\nBut no train had run upon it for many years. The forest on either side\r\nswelled up the slopes of the embankment and crested across it in a green\r\nwave of trees and bushes. The trail was as narrow as a man\u2019s body, and\r\nwas no more than a wild-animal runway. Occasionally, a piece of rusty\r\niron, showing through the forest-mould, advertised that the rail and the\r\nties still remained. In one place, a ten-inch tree, bursting through at\r\na connection, had lifted the end of a rail clearly into view. The tie\r\nhad evidently followed the rail, held to it by the spike long enough\r\nfor its bed to be filled with gravel and rotten leaves, so that now the\r\ncrumbling, rotten timber thrust itself up at a curious slant. Old as the\r\nroad was, it was manifest that it had been of the mono-rail type.\r\n\r\nAn old man and a boy travelled along this runway. They moved slowly, for\r\nthe old man was very old, a touch of palsy made his movements tremulous,\r\nand he leaned heavily upon his staff. A rude skull-cap of goat-skin\r\nprotected his head from the sun. From beneath this fell a scant fringe\r\nof stained and dirty-white hair. A visor, ingeniously made from a large\r\nleaf, shielded his eyes, and from under this he peered at the way of\r\nhis feet on the trail. His beard, which should have been snow-white\r\nbut which showed the same weather-wear and camp-stain as his hair,\r\nfell nearly to his waist in a great tangled mass. About his chest and\r\nshoulders hung a single, mangy garment of goat-skin. His arms and legs,\r\nwithered and skinny, betokened extreme age, as well as did their sunburn\r\nand scars and scratches betoken long years of exposure to the elements.\r\n\r\nThe boy, who led the way, checking the eagerness of his muscles to\r\nthe slow progress of the elder, likewise wore a single garment--a\r\nragged-edged piece of bear-skin, with a hole in the middle through which\r\nhe had thrust his head. He could not have been more than twelve years\r\nold. Tucked coquettishly over one ear was the freshly severed tail of a\r\npig. In one hand he carried a medium-sized bow and an arrow.\r\n\r\nOn his back was a quiverful of arrows. From a sheath hanging about his\r\nneck on a thong, projected the battered handle of a hunting knife. He\r\nwas as brown as a berry, and walked softly, with almost a catlike tread.\r\nIn marked contrast with his sunburned skin were his eyes--blue, deep\r\nblue, but keen and sharp as a pair of gimlets. They seemed to bore into\r\naft about him in a way that was habitual. As he went along he smelled\r\nthings, as well, his distended, quivering nostrils carrying to his brain\r\nan endless series of messages from the outside world. Also, his hearing\r\nwas acute, and had been so trained that it operated automatically.\r\nWithout conscious effort, he heard all the slight sounds in the apparent\r\nquiet--heard, and differentiated, and classified these sounds--whether\r\nthey were of the wind rustling the leaves, of the humming of bees and\r\ngnats, of the distant rumble of the sea that drifted to him only in\r\nlulls, or of the gopher, just under his foot, shoving a pouchful of\r\nearth into the entrance of his hole.\r\n\r\nSuddenly he became alertly tense. Sound, sight, and odor had given him\r\na simultaneous warning. His hand went back to the old man, touching\r\nhim, and the pair stood still. Ahead, at one side of the top of the\r\nembankment, arose a crackling sound, and the boy\u2019s gaze was fixed on the\r\ntops of the agitated bushes. Then a large bear, a grizzly, crashed into\r\nview, and likewise stopped abruptly, at sight of the humans. He did not\r\nlike them, and growled querulously. Slowly the boy fitted the arrow to\r\nthe bow, and slowly he pulled the bowstring taut. But he never removed\r\nhis eyes from the bear.\r\n\r\n[Illustration: Slowly he pulled the bowstring taut 020]\r\n\r\nThe old man peered from under his green leaf at the danger, and stood as\r\nquietly as the boy. For a few seconds this mutual scrutinizing went\r\non; then, the bear betraying a growing irritability, the boy, with a\r\nmovement of his head, indicated that the old man must step aside from\r\nthe trail and go down the embankment. The boy followed, going backward,\r\nstill holding the bow taut and ready. They waited till a crashing among\r\nthe bushes from the opposite side of the embankment told them the bear\r\nhad gone on. The boy grinned as he led back to the trail.\r\n\r\n\u201cA big un, Granser,\u201d he chuckled.\r\n\r\nThe old man shook his head.\r\n\r\n\u201cThey get thicker every day,\u201d he complained in a thin, undependable\r\nfalsetto. \u201cWho\u2019d have thought I\u2019d live to see the time when a man would\r\nbe afraid of his life on the way to the Cliff House. When I was a boy,\r\nEdwin, men and women and little babies used to come out here from San\r\nFrancisco by tens of thousands on a nice day. And there weren\u2019t any\r\nbears then. No, sir. They used to pay money to look at them in cages,\r\nthey were that rare.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cWhat is money, Granser?\u201d\r\n\r\nBefore the old man could answer, the boy recollected and triumphantly\r\nshoved his hand into a pouch under his bear-skin and pulled forth a\r\nbattered and tarnished silver dollar. The old man\u2019s eyes glistened, as\r\nhe held the coin close to them.\r\n\r\n\u201cI can\u2019t see,\u201d he muttered. \u201cYou look and see if you can make out the\r\ndate, Edwin.\u201d\r\n\r\nThe boy laughed.\r\n\r\n\u201cYou\u2019re a great Granser,\u201d he cried delightedly, \u201calways making believe\r\nthem little marks mean something.\u201d\r\n\r\nThe old man manifested an accustomed chagrin as he brought the coin back\r\nagain close to his own eyes.\r\n\r\n\u201c2012,\u201d he shrilled, and then fell to cackling grotesquely. \u201cThat was\r\nthe year Morgan the Fifth was appointed President of the United States\r\nby the Board of Magnates. It must have been one of the last coins\r\nminted, for the Scarlet Death came in 2013. Lord! Lord!--think of it!\r\nSixty years ago, and I am the only person alive to-day that lived in\r\nthose times. Where did you find it, Edwin?\u201d\r\n\r\nThe boy, who had been regarding him with the tolerant curiousness one\r\naccords to the prattlings of the feeble-minded, answered promptly.\r\n\r\n\u201cI got it off of Hoo-Hoo. He found it when we was herdin\u2019 goats down\r\nnear San Jos\u00e9 last spring. Hoo-Hoo said it was _money_. Ain\u2019t you\r\nhungry, Granser?\u201d\r\n\r\nThe ancient caught his staff in a tighter grip and urged along the\r\ntrail, his old eyes shining greedily.\r\n\r\n\u201cI hope Har-Lip \u2018s found a crab... or two,\u201d he mumbled. \u201cThey\u2019re good\r\neating, crabs, mighty good eating when you\u2019ve no more teeth and you\u2019ve\r\ngot grandsons that love their old grandsire and make a point of catching\r\ncrabs for him. When I was a boy--\u201d\r\n\r\nBut Edwin, suddenly stopped by what he saw, was drawing the bowstring\r\non a fitted arrow. He had paused on the brink of a crevasse in the\r\nembankment. An ancient culvert had here washed out, and the stream, no\r\nlonger confined, had cut a passage through the fill. On the opposite\r\nside, the end of a rail projected and overhung. It showed rustily\r\nthrough the creeping vines which overran it. Beyond, crouching by a\r\nbush, a rabbit looked across at him in trembling hesitancy. Fully fifty\r\nfeet was the distance, but the arrow flashed true; and the transfixed\r\nrabbit, crying out in sudden fright and hurt, struggled painfully away\r\ninto the brush. The boy himself was a flash of brown skin and flying fur\r\nas he bounded down the steep wall of the gap and up the other side.\r\nHis lean muscles were springs of steel that released into graceful\r\nand efficient action. A hundred feet beyond, in a tangle of bushes,\r\nhe overtook the wounded creature, knocked its head on a convenient\r\ntree-trunk, and turned it over to Granser to carry.\r\n\r\n[Illustration: Rabbit is good, very good 026]\r\n\r\n\u201cRabbit is good, very good,\u201d the ancient quavered, \u201cbut when it comes to\r\na toothsome delicacy I prefer crab. When I was a boy--\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cWhy do you say so much that ain\u2019t got no sense?\u201d Edwin impatiently\r\ninterrupted the other\u2019s threatened garrulousness.\r\n\r\nThe boy did not exactly utter these words, but something that remotely\r\nresembled them and that was more guttural and explosive and economical\r\nof qualifying phrases. His speech showed distant kinship with that of\r\nthe old man, and the latter\u2019s speech was approximately an English that\r\nhad gone through a bath of corrupt usage.\r\n\r\n\u201cWhat I want to know,\u201d Edwin continued, \u201cis why you call crab \u2018toothsome\r\ndelicacy\u2019? Crab is crab, ain\u2019t it? No one I never heard calls it such\r\nfunny things.\u201d\r\n\r\nThe old man sighed but did not answer, and they moved on in silence.\r\nThe surf grew suddenly louder, as they emerged from the forest upon a\r\nstretch of sand dunes bordering the sea. A few goats were browsing among\r\nthe sandy hillocks, and a skin-clad boy, aided by a wolfish-looking\r\ndog that was only faintly reminiscent of a collie, was watching them.\r\nMingled with the roar of the surf was a continuous, deep-throated\r\nbarking or bellowing, which came from a cluster of jagged rocks a\r\nhundred yards out from shore. Here huge sea-lions hauled themselves\r\nup to lie in the sun or battle with one another. In the immediate\r\nforeground arose the smoke of a fire, tended by a third savage-looking\r\nboy. Crouched near him were several wolfish dogs similar to the one that\r\nguarded the goats.\r\n\r\nThe old man accelerated his pace, sniffing eagerly as he neared the\r\nfire.\r\n\r\n\u201cMussels!\u201d he muttered ecstatically. \u201cMussels! And ain\u2019t that a crab,\r\nHoo-Hoo? Ain\u2019t that a crab? My, my, you boys are good to your old\r\ngrandsire.\u201d\r\n\r\nHoo-Hoo, who was apparently of the same age as Edwin, grinned.\r\n\r\n\u201cAll you want, Granser. I got four.\u201d\r\n\r\nThe old man\u2019s palsied eagerness was pitiful. Sitting down in the sand as\r\nquickly as his stiff limbs would let him, he poked a large rock-mussel\r\nfrom out of the coals. The heat had forced its shells apart, and\r\nthe meat, salmon-colored, was thoroughly cooked. Between thumb and\r\nforefinger, in trembling haste, he caught the morsel and carried it\r\nto his mouth. But it was too hot, and the next moment was violently\r\nejected. The old man spluttered with the pain, and tears ran out of his\r\neyes and down his cheeks.\r\n\r\nThe boys were true savages, possessing only the cruel humor of the\r\nsavage. To them the incident was excruciatingly funny, and they burst\r\ninto loud laughter. Hoo-Hoo danced up and down, while Edwin rolled\r\ngleefully on the ground. The boy with the goats came running to join in\r\nthe fun.\r\n\r\n\u201cSet \u2018em to cool, Edwin, set \u2018em to cool,\u201d the old man besought, in the\r\nmidst of his grief, making no attempt to wipe away the tears that\r\nstill flowed from his eyes. \u201cAnd cool a crab, Edwin, too. You know your\r\ngrandsire likes crabs.\u201d\r\n\r\nFrom the coals arose a great sizzling, which proceeded from the many\r\nmussels bursting open their shells and exuding their moisture. They were\r\nlarge shellfish, running from three to six inches in length. The boys\r\nraked them out with sticks and placed them on a large piece of driftwood\r\nto cool.\r\n\r\n\u201cWhen I was a boy, we did not laugh at our elders; we respected them.\u201d\r\n\r\nThe boys took no notice, and Granser continued to babble an incoherent\r\nflow of complaint and censure. But this time he was more careful, and\r\ndid not burn his mouth. All began to eat, using nothing but their hands\r\nand making loud mouth-noises and lip-smackings. The third boy, who was\r\ncalled Hare-Lip, slyly deposited a pinch of sand on a mussel the ancient\r\nwas carrying to his mouth; and when the grit of it bit into the old\r\nfellow\u2019s mucous membrane and gums, the laughter was again uproarious. He\r\nwas unaware that a joke had been played on him, and spluttered and spat\r\nuntil Edwin, relenting, gave him a gourd of fresh water with which to\r\nwash out his mouth.\r\n\r\n\u201cWhere\u2019s them crabs, Hoo-Hoo?\u201d Edwin demanded. \u201cGranser\u2019s set upon\r\nhaving a snack.\u201d\r\n\r\nAgain Granser\u2019s eyes burned with greediness as a large crab was handed\r\nto him. It was a shell with legs and all complete, but the meat had long\r\nsince departed. With shaky fingers and babblings of anticipation, the\r\nold man broke off a leg and found it filled with emptiness.\r\n\r\n\u201cThe crabs, Hoo-Hoo?\u201d he wailed. \u201cThe crabs?\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cI was fooling Granser. They ain\u2019t no crabs! I never found one.\u201d\r\n\r\nThe boys were overwhelmed with delight at sight of the tears of senile\r\ndisappointment that dribbled down the old man\u2019s cheeks. Then, unnoticed,\r\nHoo-Hoo replaced the empty shell with a fresh-cooked crab. Already\r\ndismembered, from the cracked legs the white meat sent forth a small\r\ncloud of savory steam. This attracted the old man\u2019s nostrils, and he\r\nlooked down in amazement.\r\n\r\n[Illustration: This attracted the old man\u2019s nostrils 033]\r\n\r\nThe change of his mood to one of joy was immediate. He snuffled and\r\nmuttered and mumbled, making almost a croon of delight, as he began\r\nto eat. Of this the boys took little notice, for it was an accustomed\r\nspectacle. Nor did they notice his occasional exclamations and\r\nutterances of phrases which meant nothing to them, as, for instance,\r\nwhen he smacked his lips and champed his gums while muttering:\r\n\u201cMayonnaise! Just think--mayonnaise! And it\u2019s sixty years since the last\r\nwas ever made! Two generations and never a smell of it! Why, in those\r\ndays it was served in every restaurant with crab.\u201d\r\n\r\nWhen he could eat no more, the old man sighed, wiped his hands on his\r\nnaked legs, and gazed out over the sea. With the content of a full\r\nstomach, he waxed reminiscent.\r\n\r\n\u201cTo think of it! I\u2019ve seen this beach alive with men, women, and\r\nchildren on a pleasant Sunday. And there weren\u2019t any bears to eat them\r\nup, either. And right up there on the cliff was a big restaurant where\r\nyou could get anything you wanted to eat. Four million people lived in\r\nSan Francisco then. And now, in the whole city and county there aren\u2019t\r\nforty all told. And out there on the sea were ships and ships always to\r\nbe seen, going in for the Golden Gate or coming out. And airships in the\r\nair--dirigibles and flying machines. They could travel two hundred miles\r\nan hour. The mail contracts with the New York and San Francisco Limited\r\ndemanded that for the minimum. There was a chap, a Frenchman, I forget\r\nhis name, who succeeded in making three hundred; but the thing was\r\nrisky, too risky for conservative persons. But he was on the right clew,\r\nand he would have managed it if it hadn\u2019t been for the Great Plague.\r\nWhen I was a boy, there were men alive who remembered the coming of the\r\nfirst aeroplanes, and now I have lived to see the last of them, and that\r\nsixty years ago.\u201d\r\n\r\nThe old man babbled on, unheeded by the boys, who were long accustomed\r\nto his garrulousness, and whose vocabularies, besides, lacked the\r\ngreater portion of the words he used. It was noticeable that in these\r\nrambling soliloquies his English seemed to recrudesce into better\r\nconstruction and phraseology. But when he talked directly with the boys\r\nit lapsed, largely, into their own uncouth and simpler forms.\r\n\r\n\u201cBut there weren\u2019t many crabs in those days,\u201d the old man wandered on.\r\n\u201cThey were fished out, and they were great delicacies. The open season\r\nwas only a month long, too. And now crabs are accessible the whole year\r\naround. Think of it--catching all the crabs you want, any time you want,\r\nin the surf of the Cliff House beach!\u201d\r\n\r\nA sudden commotion among the goats brought the boys to their feet. The\r\ndogs about the fire rushed to join their snarling fellow who guarded the\r\ngoats, while the goats themselves stampeded in the direction of their\r\nhuman protectors. A half dozen forms, lean and gray, glided about on the\r\nsand hillocks and faced the bristling dogs. Edwin arched an arrow that\r\nfell short. But Hare-Lip, with a sling such as David carried into battle\r\nagainst Goliath, hurled a stone through the air that whistled from the\r\nspeed of its flight. It fell squarely among the wolves and caused them\r\nto slink away toward the dark depths of the eucalyptus forest.\r\n\r\n[Illustration: With a sling such as David carried 036]\r\n\r\nThe boys laughed and lay down again in the sand, while Granser sighed\r\nponderously. He had eaten too much, and, with hands clasped on his\r\npaunch, the fingers interlaced, he resumed his maunderings.\r\n\r\n\u201c\u2018The fleeting systems lapse like foam,\u2019\u201d he mumbled what was evidently\r\na quotation. \u201cThat\u2019s it--foam, and fleeting. All man\u2019s toil upon the\r\nplanet was just so much foam. He domesticated the serviceable animals,\r\ndestroyed the hostile ones, and cleared the land of its wild vegetation.\r\nAnd then he passed, and the flood of primordial life rolled back again,\r\nsweeping his handiwork away--the weeds and the forest inundated his\r\nfields, the beasts of prey swept over his flocks, and now there are\r\nwolves on the Cliff House beach.\u201d He was appalled by the thought. \u201cWhere\r\nfour million people disported themselves, the wild wolves roam to-day,\r\nand the savage progeny of our loins, with prehistoric weapons, defend\r\nthemselves against the fanged despoilers. Think of it! And all because\r\nof the Scarlet Death--\u201d\r\n\r\nThe adjective had caught Hare-Lip\u2019s ear.\r\n\r\n\u201cHe\u2019s always saying that,\u201d he said to Edwin. \u201cWhat is _scarlet?_\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201c\u2018The scarlet of the maples can shake me like the cry of bugles going\r\nby,\u2019\u201d the old man quoted.\r\n\r\n\u201cIt\u2019s red,\u201d Edwin answered the question. \u201cAnd you don\u2019t know it because\r\nyou come from the Chauffeur Tribe. They never did know nothing, none of\r\nthem. Scarlet is red--I know that.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cRed is red, ain\u2019t it?\u201d Hare-Lip grumbled. \u201cThen what\u2019s the good of\r\ngettin\u2019 cocky and calling it scarlet?\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cGranser, what for do you always say so much what nobody knows?\u201d he\r\nasked. \u201cScarlet ain\u2019t anything, but red is red. Why don\u2019t you say red,\r\nthen?\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cRed is not the right word,\u201d was the reply. \u201cThe plague was scarlet.\r\nThe whole face and body turned scarlet in an hour\u2019s time. Don\u2019t I\r\nknow? Didn\u2019t I see enough of it? And I am telling you it was scarlet\r\nbecause--well, because it _was_ scarlet. There is no other word for it.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cRed is good enough for me,\u201d Hare-Lip muttered obstinately. \u201cMy dad\r\ncalls red red, and he ought to know. He says everybody died of the Red\r\nDeath.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cYour dad is a common fellow, descended from a common fellow,\u201d Granser\r\nretorted heatedly. \u201cDon\u2019t I know the beginnings of the Chauffeurs? Your\r\ngrandsire was a chauffeur, a servant, and without education. He worked\r\nfor other persons. But your grandmother was of good stock, only the\r\nchildren did not take after her. Don\u2019t I remember when I first met them,\r\ncatching fish at Lake Temescal?\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cWhat is _education?_\u201d Edwin asked.\r\n\r\n\u201cCalling red scarlet,\u201d Hare-Lip sneered, then returned to the attack on\r\nGranser. \u201cMy dad told me, an\u2019 he got it from his dad afore he croaked,\r\nthat your wife was a Santa Rosan, an\u2019 that she was sure no account. He\r\nsaid she was a _hash-slinger_ before the Red Death, though I don\u2019t know\r\nwhat a _hash-slinger_ is. You can tell me, Edwin.\u201d\r\n\r\nBut Edwin shook his head in token of ignorance.\r\n\r\n\u201cIt is true, she was a waitress,\u201d Granser acknowledged. \u201cBut she was a\r\ngood woman, and your mother was her daughter. Women were very scarce in\r\nthe days after the Plague. She was the only wife I could find, even if\r\nshe was a _hash-slinger_, as your father calls it. But it is not nice to\r\ntalk about our progenitors that way.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cDad says that the wife of the first Chauffeur was a _lady_--\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cWhat\u2019s a _lady?_\u201d Hoo-Hoo demanded.\r\n\r\n\u201cA _lady_ \u2018s a Chauffeur squaw,\u201d was the quick reply of Hare-Lip.\r\n\r\n\u201cThe first Chauffeur was Bill, a common fellow, as I said before,\u201d the\r\nold man expounded; \u201cbut his wife was a lady, a great lady. Before the\r\nScarlet Death she was the wife of Van Worden. He was President of the\r\nBoard of Industrial Magnates, and was one of the dozen men who\r\nruled America. He was worth one billion, eight hundred millions of\r\ndollars--coins like you have there in your pouch, Edwin. And then came\r\nthe Scarlet Death, and his wife became the wife of Bill, the first\r\nChauffeur. He used to beat her, too. I have seen it myself.\u201d\r\n\r\nHoo-Hoo, lying on his stomach and idly digging his toes in the sand,\r\ncried out and investigated, first, his toe-nail, and next, the small\r\nhole he had dug. The other two boys joined him, excavating the sand\r\nrapidly with their hands till there lay three skeletons exposed. Two\r\nwere of adults, the third being that of a part-grown child. The old man\r\nhudged along on the ground and peered at the find.\r\n\r\n\u201cPlague victims,\u201d he announced. \u201cThat\u2019s the way they died everywhere\r\nin the last days. This must have been a family, running away from the\r\ncontagion and perishing here on the Cliff House beach. They--what are\r\nyou doing, Edwin?\u201d\r\n\r\nThis question was asked in sudden dismay, as Edwin, using the back of\r\nhis hunting knife, began to knock out the teeth from the jaws of one of\r\nthe skulls.\r\n\r\n\u201cGoing to string \u2018em,\u201d was the response.\r\n\r\nThe three boys were now hard at it; and quite a knocking and hammering\r\narose, in which Granser babbled on unnoticed.\r\n\r\n\u201cYou are true savages. Already has begun the custom of wearing human\r\nteeth. In another generation you will be perforating your noses and\r\nears and wearing ornaments of bone and shell. I know. The human race\r\nis doomed to sink back farther and farther into the primitive night\r\nere again it begins its bloody climb upward to civilization. When we\r\nincrease and feel the lack of room, we will proceed to kill one another.\r\nAnd then I suppose you will wear human scalp-locks at your waist, as\r\nwell--as you, Edwin, who are the gentlest of my grandsons, have already\r\nbegun with that vile pigtail. Throw it away, Edwin, boy; throw it away.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cWhat a gabble the old geezer makes,\u201d Hare-Lip remarked, when, the teeth\r\nall extracted, they began an attempt at equal division.\r\n\r\nThey were very quick and abrupt in their actions, and their speech, in\r\nmoments of hot discussion over the allotment of the choicer teeth, was\r\ntruly a gabble. They spoke in monosyllables and short jerky sentences\r\nthat was more a gibberish than a language. And yet, through it ran hints\r\nof grammatical construction, and appeared vestiges of the conjugation\r\nof some superior culture. Even the speech of Granser was so corrupt that\r\nwere it put down literally it would be almost so much nonsense to the\r\nreader. This, however, was when he talked with the boys.\r\n\r\nWhen he got into the full swing of babbling to himself, it slowly purged\r\nitself into pure English. The sentences grew longer and were enunciated\r\nwith a rhythm and ease that was reminiscent of the lecture platform.\r\n\r\n\u201cTell us about the Red Death, Granser,\u201d Hare-Lip demanded, when the\r\nteeth affair had been satisfactorily concluded.\r\n\r\n\u201cThe Scarlet Death,\u201d Edwin corrected.\r\n\r\n\u201cAn\u2019 don\u2019t work all that funny lingo on us,\u201d Hare-Lip went on. \u201cTalk\r\nsensible, Granser, like a Santa Rosan ought to talk. Other Santa Rosans\r\ndon\u2019t talk like you.\u201d\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nII\r\n\r\nTHE old man showed pleasure in being thus called upon. He cleared his\r\nthroat and began.\r\n\r\n\u201cTwenty or thirty years ago my story was in great demand. But in these\r\ndays nobody seems interested--\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cThere you go!\u201d Hare-Lip cried hotly. \u201cCut out the funny stuff and talk\r\nsensible. What\u2019s _interested?_ You talk like a baby that don\u2019t know\r\nhow.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cLet him alone,\u201d Edwin urged, \u201cor he\u2019ll get mad and won\u2019t talk at all.\r\nSkip the funny places. We\u2019ll catch on to some of what he tells us.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cLet her go, Granser,\u201d Hoo-Hoo encouraged; for the old man was already\r\nmaundering about the disrespect for elders and the reversion to cruelty\r\nof all humans that fell from high culture to primitive conditions.\r\n\r\nThe tale began.\r\n\r\n\u201cThere were very many people in the world in those days. San Francisco\r\nalone held four millions--\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cWhat is millions?\u201d Edwin interrupted.\r\n\r\nGranser looked at him kindly.\r\n\r\n\u201cI know you cannot count beyond ten, so I will tell you. Hold up your\r\ntwo hands. On both of them you have altogether ten fingers and thumbs.\r\nVery well. I now take this grain of sand--you hold it, Hoo-Hoo.\u201d He\r\ndropped the grain of sand into the lad\u2019s palm and went on. \u201cNow that\r\ngrain of sand stands for the ten fingers of Edwin. I add another grain.\r\nThat\u2019s ten more fingers. And I add another, and another, and another,\r\nuntil I have added as many grains as Edwin has fingers and thumbs. That\r\nmakes what I call one hundred. Remember that word--one hundred. Now I\r\nput this pebble in Hare-Lip\u2019s hand. It stands for ten grains of sand, or\r\nten tens of fingers, or one hundred fingers. I put in ten pebbles. They\r\nstand for a thousand fingers. I take a mussel-shell, and it stands for\r\nten pebbles, or one hundred grains of sand, or one thousand fingers....\u201d\r\n And so on, laboriously, and with much reiteration, he strove to build\r\nup in their minds a crude conception of numbers. As the quantities\r\nincreased, he had the boys holding different magnitudes in each of\r\ntheir hands. For still higher sums, he laid the symbols on the log of\r\ndriftwood; and for symbols he was hard put, being compelled to use the\r\nteeth from the skulls for millions, and the crab-shells for billions.\r\nIt was here that he stopped, for the boys were showing signs of becoming\r\ntired.\r\n\r\n\u201cThere were four million people in San Francisco--four teeth.\u201d\r\n\r\nThe boys\u2019 eyes ranged along from the teeth and from hand to hand, down\r\nthrough the pebbles and sand-grains to Edwin\u2019s fingers. And back again\r\nthey ranged along the ascending series in the effort to grasp such\r\ninconceivable numbers.\r\n\r\n\u201cThat was a lot of folks, Granser,\u201d Edwin at last hazarded.\r\n\r\n\u201cLike sand on the beach here, like sand on the beach, each grain of sand\r\na man, or woman, or child. Yes, my boy, all those people lived right\r\nhere in San Francisco. And at one time or another all those people\r\ncame out on this very beach--more people than there are grains of sand.\r\nMore--more--more. And San Francisco was a noble city. And across the\r\nbay--where we camped last year, even more people lived, clear from Point\r\nRichmond, on the level ground and on the hills, all the way around to\r\nSan Leandro--one great city of seven million people.--Seven teeth...\r\nthere, that\u2019s it, seven millions.\u201d\r\n\r\nAgain the boys\u2019 eyes ranged up and down from Edwin\u2019s fingers to the\r\nteeth on the log.\r\n\r\n\u201cThe world was full of people. The census of 2010 gave eight billions\r\nfor the whole world--eight crab-shells, yes, eight billions. It was not\r\nlike to-day. Mankind knew a great deal more about getting food. And the\r\nmore food there was, the more people there were. In the year 1800, there\r\nwere one hundred and seventy millions in Europe alone. One hundred years\r\nlater--a grain of sand, Hoo-Hoo--one hundred years later, at 1900, there\r\nwere five hundred millions in Europe--five grains of sand, Hoo-Hoo, and\r\nthis one tooth. This shows how easy was the getting of food, and how men\r\nincreased. And in the year 2000 there were fifteen hundred millions\r\nin Europe. And it was the same all over the rest of the world. Eight\r\ncrab-shells there, yes, eight billion people were alive on the earth\r\nwhen the Scarlet Death began.\r\n\r\n\u201cI was a young man when the Plague came--twenty-seven years old; and I\r\nlived on the other side of San Francisco Bay, in Berkeley. You remember\r\nthose great stone houses, Edwin, when we came down the hills from Contra\r\nCosta? That was where I lived, in those stone houses. I was a professor\r\nof English literature.\u201d\r\n\r\n[Illustration: I was a professor of English literature 054]\r\n\r\nMuch of this was over the heads of the boys, but they strove to\r\ncomprehend dimly this tale of the past.\r\n\r\n\u201cWhat was them stone houses for?\u201d Hare-Lip queried.\r\n\r\n\u201cYou remember when your dad taught you to swim?\u201d The boy nodded.\r\n\u201cWell, in the University of California--that is the name we had for\r\nthe houses--we taught young men and women how to think, just as I have\r\ntaught you now, by sand and pebbles and shells, to know how many people\r\nlived in those days. There was very much to teach. The young men and\r\nwomen we taught were called students. We had large rooms in which we\r\ntaught. I talked to them, forty or fifty at a time, just as I am talking\r\nto you now. I told them about the books other men had written before\r\ntheir time, and even, sometimes, in their time--\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cWas that all you did?--just talk, talk, talk?\u201d Hoo-Hoo demanded. \u201cWho\r\nhunted your meat for you? and milked the goats? and caught the fish?\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cA sensible question, Hoo-Hoo, a sensible question. As I have told you,\r\nin those days food-getting was easy. We were very wise. A few men got\r\nthe food for many men. The other men did other things. As you say, I\r\ntalked. I talked all the time, and for this food was given me--much\r\nfood, fine food, beautiful food, food that I have not tasted in sixty\r\nyears and shall never taste again. I sometimes think the most wonderful\r\nachievement of our tremendous civilization was food--its inconceivable\r\nabundance, its infinite variety, its marvellous delicacy. O my\r\ngrandsons, life was life in those days, when we had such wonderful\r\nthings to eat.\u201d\r\n\r\nThis was beyond the boys, and they let it slip by, words and thoughts,\r\nas a mere senile wandering in the narrative.\r\n\r\n\u201cOur food-getters were called _freemen_. This was a joke. We of the\r\nruling classes owned all the land, all the machines, everything. These\r\nfood-getters were our slaves. We took almost all the food they got, and\r\nleft them a little so that they might eat, and work, and get us more\r\nfood--\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cI\u2019d have gone into the forest and got food for myself,\u201d Hare-Lip\r\nannounced; \u201cand if any man tried to take it away from me, I\u2019d have\r\nkilled him.\u201d\r\n\r\nThe old man laughed.\r\n\r\n\u201cDid I not tell you that we of the ruling class owned all the land, all\r\nthe forest, everything? Any food-getter who would not get food for us,\r\nhim we punished or compelled to starve to death. And very few did that.\r\nThey preferred to get food for us, and make clothes for us, and prepare\r\nand administer to us a thousand--a mussel-shell, Hoo-Hoo--a thousand\r\nsatisfactions and delights. And I was Professor Smith in those\r\ndays--Professor James Howard Smith. And my lecture courses were very\r\npopular--that is, very many of the young men and women liked to hear me\r\ntalk about the books other men had written.\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd I was very happy, and I had beautiful things to eat. And my hands\r\nwere soft, because I did no work with them, and my body was clean\r\nall over and dressed in the softest garments--\r\n\r\n\u201cHe surveyed his mangy goat-skin with disgust.\r\n\r\n\u201cWe did not wear such things in those days. Even the slaves had better\r\ngarments. And we were most clean. We washed our faces and hands often\r\nevery day. You boys never wash unless you fall into the water or go\r\nswimming.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cNeither do you Granzer,\u201d Hoo-Hoo retorted.\r\n\r\n\u201cI know, I know, I am a filthy old man, but times have changed. Nobody\r\nwashes these days, there are no conveniences. It is sixty years since I\r\nhave seen a piece of soap.\r\n\r\n[Illustration: Sixty years since I have seen a piece of soap. 059]\r\n\r\n\u201cYou do not know what soap is, and I shall not tell you, for I am telling\r\nthe story of the Scarlet Death. You know what sickness is. We called\r\nit a disease. Very many of the diseases came from what we called germs.\r\nRemember that word--germs. A germ is a very small thing. It is like a\r\nwoodtick, such as you find on the dogs in the spring of the year when\r\nthey run in the forest. Only the germ is very small. It is so small that\r\nyou cannot see it--\u201d\r\n\r\nHoo-Hoo began to laugh.\r\n\r\n\u201cYou\u2019re a queer un, Granser, talking about things you can\u2019t see. If you\r\ncan\u2019t see \u2018em, how do you know they are? That\u2019s what I want to know. How\r\ndo you know anything you can\u2019t see?\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cA good question, a very good question, Hoo-Hoo. But we did see--some of\r\nthem. We had what we called microscopes and ultramicroscopes, and we put\r\nthem to our eyes and looked through them, so that we saw things larger\r\nthan they really were, and many things we could not see without the\r\nmicroscopes at all. Our best ultramicroscopes could make a germ look\r\nforty thousand times larger. A mussel-shell is a thousand fingers like\r\nEdwin\u2019s. Take forty mussel-shells, and by as many times larger was the\r\ngerm when we looked at it through a microscope. And after that, we\r\nhad other ways, by using what we called moving pictures, of making the\r\nforty-thousand-times germ many, many thousand times larger still. And\r\nthus we saw all these things which our eyes of themselves could not see.\r\nTake a grain of sand. Break it into ten pieces. Take one piece and break\r\nit into ten. Break one of those pieces into ten, and one of those into\r\nten, and one of those into ten, and one of those into ten, and do it all\r\nday, and maybe, by sunset, you will have a piece as small as one of the\r\ngerms.\u201d The boys were openly incredulous. Hare-Lip sniffed and sneered\r\nand Hoo-Hoo snickered, until Edwin nudged them to be silent.\r\n\r\n\u201cThe woodtick sucks the blood of the dog, but the germ, being so very\r\nsmall, goes right into the blood of the body, and there it has\r\nmany children. In those days there would be as many as a billion--a\r\ncrab-shell, please--as many as that crab-shell in one man\u2019s body. We\r\ncalled germs micro-organisms. When a few million, or a billion, of them\r\nwere in a man, in all the blood of a man, he was sick. These germs were\r\na disease. There were many different kinds of them--more different kinds\r\nthan there are grains of sand on this beach. We knew only a few of the\r\nkinds. The micro-organic world was an invisible world, a world we could\r\nnot see, and we knew very little about it. Yet we did know something.\r\nThere was the _bacillus anthracis_; there was the _micrococcus_; there\r\nwas the _Bacterium termo_, and the _Bacterium lactis_--that\u2019s what\r\nturns the goat milk sour even to this day, Hare-Lip; and there were\r\n_Schizomycetes_ without end. And there were many others....\u201d\r\n\r\nHere the old man launched into a disquisition on germs and their\r\nnatures, using words and phrases of such extraordinary length and\r\nmeaninglessness, that the boys grinned at one another and looked out\r\nover the deserted ocean till they forgot the old man was babbling on.\r\n\r\n\u201cBut the Scarlet Death, Granser,\u201d Edwin at last suggested.\r\n\r\nGranser recollected himself, and with a start tore himself away from the\r\nrostrum of the lecture-hall, where, to another world audience, he\r\nhad been expounding the latest theory, sixty years gone, of germs and\r\ngerm-diseases.\r\n\r\n\u201cYes, yes, Edwin; I had forgotten. Sometimes the memory of the past is\r\nvery strong upon me, and I forget that I am a dirty old man, clad in\r\ngoat-skin, wandering with my savage grandsons who are goatherds in\r\nthe primeval wilderness. \u2018The fleeting systems lapse like foam,\u2019 and so\r\nlapsed our glorious, colossal civilization. I am Granser, a tired old\r\nman. I belong to the tribe of Santa Rosans. I married into that tribe.\r\nMy sons and daughters married into the Chauffeurs, the Sacramen-tos, and\r\nthe Palo-Altos. You, Hare-Lip, are of the Chauffeurs. You, Edwin, are\r\nof the Sacramentos. And you, Hoo-Hoo, are of the Palo-Altos. Your tribe\r\ntakes its name from a town that was near the seat of another great\r\ninstitution of learning. It was called Stanford University. Yes, I\r\nremember now. It is perfectly clear. I was telling you of the Scarlet\r\nDeath. Where was I in my story?\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cYou was telling about germs, the things you can\u2019t see but which make\r\nmen sick,\u201d Edwin prompted.\r\n\r\n\u201cYes, that\u2019s where I was. A man did not notice at first when only a few\r\nof these germs got into his body. But each germ broke in half and became\r\ntwo germs, and they kept doing this very rapidly so that in a short time\r\nthere were many millions of them in the body. Then the man was sick. He\r\nhad a disease, and the disease was named after the kind of a germ that\r\nwas in him. It might be measles, it might be influenza, it might be\r\nyellow fever; it might be any of thousands and thousands of kinds of\r\ndiseases.\r\n\r\n\u201cNow this is the strange thing about these germs. There were always new\r\nones coming to live in men\u2019s bodies. Long and long and long ago, when\r\nthere were only a few men in the world, there were few diseases. But\r\nas men increased and lived closely together in great cities and\r\ncivilizations, new diseases arose, new kinds of germs entered their\r\nbodies. Thus were countless millions and billions of human beings\r\nkilled. And the more thickly men packed together, the more terrible were\r\nthe new diseases that came to be. Long before my time, in the middle\r\nages, there was the Black Plague that swept across Europe. It swept\r\nacross Europe many times. There was tuberculosis, that entered into men\r\nwherever they were thickly packed. A hundred years before my time there\r\nwas the bubonic plague. And in Africa was the sleeping sickness. The\r\nbacteriologists fought all these sicknesses and destroyed them, just as\r\nyou boys fight the wolves away from your goats, or squash the mosquitoes\r\nthat light on you. The bacteriologists--\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cBut, Granser, what is a what-you-call-it?\u201d Edwin interrupted.\r\n\r\n\u201cYou, Edwin, are a goatherd. Your task is to watch the goats. You know a\r\ngreat deal about goats. A bacteriologist watches germs. That\u2019s his\r\ntask, and he knows a great deal about them. So, as I was saying, the\r\nbacteriologists fought with the germs and destroyed them--sometimes.\r\nThere was leprosy, a horrible disease. A hundred years before I was\r\nborn, the bacteriologists discovered the germ of leprosy. They knew all\r\nabout it. They made pictures of it. I have seen those pictures. But\r\nthey never found a way to kill it. But in 1984, there was the Pantoblast\r\nPlague, a disease that broke out in a country called Brazil and that\r\nkilled millions of people. But the bacteriologists found it out, and\r\nfound the way to kill it, so that the Pantoblast Plague went no farther.\r\nThey made what they called a serum, which they put into a man\u2019s body and\r\nwhich killed the pantoblast germs without killing the man. And in 1910,\r\nthere was Pellagra, and also the hookworm. These were easily killed\r\nby the bacteriologists. But in 1947 there arose a new disease that had\r\nnever been seen before. It got into the bodies of babies of only ten\r\nmonths old or less, and it made them unable to move their hands and\r\nfeet, or to eat, or anything; and the bacteriologists were eleven years\r\nin discovering how to kill that particular germ and save the babies.\r\n\r\n\u201cIn spite of all these diseases, and of all the new ones that continued\r\nto arise, there were more and more men in the world. This was because it\r\nwas easy to get food. The easier it was to get food, the more men\r\nthere were; the more men there were, the more thickly were they packed\r\ntogether on the earth; and the more thickly they were packed, the more\r\nnew kinds of germs became diseases. There were warnings. Soldervetzsky,\r\nas early as 1929, told the bacteriologists that they had no guaranty\r\nagainst some new disease, a thousand times more deadly than any they\r\nknew, arising and killing by the hundreds of millions and even by the\r\nbillion. You see, the micro-organic world remained a mystery to the end.\r\nThey knew there was such a world, and that from time to time armies of\r\nnew germs emerged from it to kill men.\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd that was all they knew about it. For all they knew, in that\r\ninvisible micro-organic world there might be as many different kinds of\r\ngerms as there are grains of sand on this beach. And also, in that same\r\ninvisible world it might well be that new kinds of germs came to be.\r\nIt might be there that life originated--the \u2018abysmal fecundity,\u2019\r\nSoldervetzsky called it, applying the words of other men who had written\r\nbefore him....\u201d\r\n\r\nIt was at this point that Hare-Lip rose to his feet, an expression of\r\nhuge contempt on his face.\r\n\r\n[Illustration: Granser, you make me sick with your gabble 071]\r\n\r\n\u201cGranser,\u201d he announced, \u201cyou make me sick with your gabble. Why don\u2019t\r\nyou tell about the Red Death? If you ain\u2019t going to, say so, an\u2019 we\u2019ll\r\nstart back for camp.\u201d\r\n\r\nThe old man looked at him and silently began to cry. The weak tears of\r\nage rolled down his cheeks and all the feebleness of his eighty-seven\r\nyears showed in his grief-stricken countenance.\r\n\r\n\u201cSit down,\u201d Edwin counselled soothingly. \u201cGranser\u2019s all right. He\u2019s just\r\ngettin\u2019 to the Scarlet Death, ain\u2019t you, Granser? He\u2019s just goin\u2019 to\r\ntell us about it right now. Sit down, Hare-Lip. Go ahead, Granser.\u201d\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nIII\r\n\r\nTHE old man wiped the tears away on his grimy knuckles and took up the\r\ntale in a tremulous, piping voice that soon strengthened as he got the\r\nswing of the narrative.\r\n\r\n\u201cIt was in the summer of 2013 that the Plague came. I was twenty-seven\r\nyears old, and well do I remember it. Wireless despatches--\u201d\r\n\r\nHare-Lip spat loudly his disgust, and Granser hastened to make amends.\r\n\r\n\u201cWe talked through the air in those days, thousands and thousands of\r\nmiles. And the word came of a strange disease that had broken out in\r\nNew York. There were seventeen millions of people living then in that\r\nnoblest city of America. Nobody thought anything about the news. It was\r\nonly a small thing. There had been only a few deaths. It seemed, though,\r\nthat they had died very quickly, and that one of the first signs of\r\nthe disease was the turning red of the face and all the body. Within\r\ntwenty-four hours came the report of the first case in Chicago. And on\r\nthe same day, it was made public that London, the greatest city in the\r\nworld, next to Chicago, had been secretly fighting the plague for two\r\nweeks and censoring the news despatches--that is, not permitting the\r\nword to go forth to the rest of the world that London had the plague.\r\n\r\n\u201cIt looked serious, but we in California, like everywhere else, were\r\nnot alarmed. We were sure that the bacteriologists would find a way to\r\novercome this new germ, just as they had overcome other germs in the\r\npast. But the trouble was the astonishing quickness with which this germ\r\ndestroyed human beings, and the fact that it inevitably killed any\r\nhuman body it entered. No one ever recovered. There was the old Asiatic\r\ncholera, when you might eat dinner with a well man in the evening, and\r\nthe next morning, if you got up early enough, you would see him being\r\nhauled by your window in the death-cart. But this new plague was quicker\r\nthan that--much quicker.\r\n\r\n[Illustration: But this new plague was quicker 078]\r\n\r\n\u201cFrom the moment of the first signs of it, a man would be dead in an\r\nhour. Some lasted for several hours. Many died within ten or fifteen\r\nminutes of the appearance of the first signs.\r\n\r\n\u201cThe heart began to beat faster and the heat of the body to increase.\r\nThen came the scarlet rash, spreading like wildfire over the face and\r\nbody. Most persons never noticed the increase in heat and heart-beat,\r\nand the first they knew was when the scarlet rash came out. Usually,\r\nthey had convulsions at the time of the appearance of the rash. But\r\nthese convulsions did not last long and were not very severe. If one\r\nlived through them, he became perfectly quiet, and only did he feel a\r\nnumbness swiftly creeping up his body from the feet. The heels became\r\nnumb first, then the legs, and hips, and when the numbness reached\r\nas high as his heart he died. They did not rave or sleep. Their minds\r\nalways remained cool and calm up to the moment their heart numbed and\r\nstopped. And another strange thing was the rapidity of decomposition. No\r\nsooner was a person dead than the body seemed to fall to pieces, to\r\nfly apart, to melt away even as you looked at it. That was one of the\r\nreasons the plague spread so rapidly. All the billions of germs in a\r\ncorpse were so immediately released.\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd it was because of all this that the bacteriologists had so little\r\nchance in fighting the germs. They were killed in their laboratories\r\neven as they studied the germ of the Scarlet Death. They were heroes.\r\nAs fast as they perished, others stepped forth and took their places.\r\nIt was in London that they first isolated it. The news was telegraphed\r\neverywhere. Trask was the name of the man who succeeded in this, but\r\nwithin thirty hours he was dead. Then came the struggle in all the\r\nlaboratories to find something that would kill the plague germs. All\r\ndrugs failed. You see, the problem was to get a drug, or serum, that\r\nwould kill the germs in the body and not kill the body. They tried to\r\nfight it with other germs, to put into the body of a sick man germs that\r\nwere the enemies of the plague germs--\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd you can\u2019t see these germ-things, Granser,\u201d Hare-Lip objected, \u201cand\r\nhere you gabble, gabble, gabble about them as if they was anything,\r\nwhen they\u2019re nothing at all. Anything you can\u2019t see, ain\u2019t, that\u2019s what.\r\nFighting things that ain\u2019t with things that ain\u2019t! They must have\r\nbeen all fools in them days. That\u2019s why they croaked. I ain\u2019t goin\u2019 to\r\nbelieve in such rot, I tell you that.\u201d\r\n\r\nGranser promptly began to weep, while Edwin hotly took up his defence.\r\n\r\n\u201cLook here, Hare-Lip, you believe in lots of things you can\u2019t see.\u201d\r\n\r\nHare-Lip shook his head.\r\n\r\n\u201cYou believe in dead men walking about. You never seen one dead man walk\r\nabout.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cI tell you I seen \u2018em, last winter, when I was wolf-hunting with dad.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cWell, you always spit when you cross running water,\u201d Edwin challenged.\r\n\r\n\u201cThat\u2019s to keep off bad luck,\u201d was Hare-Lip\u2019s defence.\r\n\r\n\u201cYou believe in bad luck?\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cSure.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cAn\u2019 you ain\u2019t never seen bad luck,\u201d Edwin concluded triumphantly.\r\n\u201cYou\u2019re just as bad as Granser and his germs. You believe in what you\r\ndon\u2019t see. Go on, Granser.\u201d\r\n\r\nHare-Lip, crushed by this metaphysical defeat, remained silent, and\r\nthe old man went on. Often and often, though this narrative must not be\r\nclogged by the details, was Granser\u2019s tale interrupted while the boys\r\nsquabbled among themselves. Also, among themselves they kept up a\r\nconstant, low-voiced exchange of explanation and conjecture, as they\r\nstrove to follow the old man into his unknown and vanished world.\r\n\r\n\u201cThe Scarlet Death broke out in San Francisco. The first death came on\r\na Monday morning. By Thursday they were dying like flies in Oakland\r\nand San Francisco. They died everywhere--in their beds, at their\r\nwork, walking along the street. It was on Tuesday that I saw my first\r\ndeath--Miss Collbran, one of my students, sitting right there before my\r\neyes, in my lecture-room. I noticed her face while I was talking. It had\r\nsuddenly turned scarlet. I ceased speaking and could only look at her,\r\nfor the first fear of the plague was already on all of us and we knew\r\nthat it had come. The young women screamed and ran out of the room. So\r\ndid the young men run out, all but two. Miss Collbran\u2019s convulsions were\r\nvery mild and lasted less than a minute. One of the young men fetched\r\nher a glass of water. She drank only a little of it, and cried out:\r\n\r\n\u201c\u2018My feet! All sensation has left them.\u2019\r\n\r\n\u201cAfter a minute she said, \u2018I have no feet. I am unaware that I have any\r\nfeet. And my knees are cold. I can scarcely feel that I have knees.\u2019\r\n\r\n\u201cShe lay on the floor, a bundle of notebooks under her head. And we\r\ncould do nothing. The coldness and the numbness crept up past her hips\r\nto her heart, and when it reached her heart she was dead. In fifteen\r\nminutes, by the clock--I timed it--she was dead, there, in my own\r\nclassroom, dead. And she was a very beautiful, strong, healthy young\r\nwoman. And from the first sign of the plague to her death only fifteen\r\nminutes elapsed. That will show you how swift was the Scarlet Death.\r\n\r\n\u201cYet in those few minutes I remained with the dying woman in my\r\nclassroom, the alarm had spread over the university; and the students,\r\nby thousands, all of them, had deserted the lecture-room and\r\nlaboratories. When I emerged, on my way to make report to the President\r\nof the Faculty, I found the university deserted. Across the campus were\r\nseveral stragglers hurrying for their homes. Two of them were running.\r\n\r\n\u201cPresident Hoag, I found in his office, all alone, looking very old and\r\nvery gray, with a multitude of wrinkles in his face that I had never\r\nseen before. At the sight of me, he pulled himself to his feet and\r\ntottered away to the inner office, banging the door after him and\r\nlocking it. You see, he knew I had been exposed, and he was afraid.\r\nHe shouted to me through the door to go away. I shall never forget\r\nmy feelings as I walked down the silent corridors and out across that\r\ndeserted campus. I was not afraid. I had been exposed, and I looked\r\nupon myself as already dead. It was not that, but a feeling of awful\r\ndepression that impressed me. Everything had stopped. It was like the\r\nend of the world to me--my world. I had been born within sight and sound\r\nof the university. It had been my predestined career. My father had been\r\na professor there before me, and his father before him. For a century\r\nand a half had this university, like a splendid machine, been running\r\nsteadily on. And now, in an instant, it had stopped. It was like seeing\r\nthe sacred flame die down on some thrice-sacred altar. I was shocked,\r\nunutterably shocked.\r\n\r\n\u201cWhen I arrived home, my housekeeper screamed as I entered, and fled\r\naway. And when I rang, I found the housemaid had likewise fled. I\r\ninvestigated. In the kitchen I found the cook on the point of departure.\r\nBut she screamed, too, and in her haste dropped a suitcase of her\r\npersonal belongings and ran out of the house and across the grounds,\r\nstill screaming. I can hear her scream to this day. You see, we did not\r\nact in this way when ordinary diseases smote us. We were always calm\r\nover such things, and sent for the doctors and nurses who knew just\r\nwhat to do. But this was different. It struck so suddenly, and killed so\r\nswiftly, and never missed a stroke. When the scarlet rash appeared on a\r\nperson\u2019s face, that person was marked by death. There was never a known\r\ncase of a recovery.\r\n\r\n\u201cI was alone in my big house. As I have told you often before, in those\r\ndays we could talk with one another over wires or through the air. The\r\ntelephone bell rang, and I found my brother talking to me. He told me\r\nthat he was not coming home for fear of catching the plague from me, and\r\nthat he had taken our two sisters to stop at Professor Bacon\u2019s home. He\r\nadvised me to remain where I was, and wait to find out whether or not I\r\nhad caught the plague.\r\n\r\n[Illustration: The telephone bell rang 088]\r\n\r\n\u201cTo all of this I agreed, staying in my house and for the first time in\r\nmy life attempting to cook. And the plague did not come out on me. By\r\nmeans of the telephone I could talk with whomsoever I pleased and get\r\nthe news. Also, there were the newspapers, and I ordered all of them to\r\nbe thrown up to my door so that I could know what was happening with the\r\nrest of the world.\r\n\r\n\u201cNew York City and Chicago were in chaos. And what happened with them\r\nwas happening in all the large cities. A third of the New York police\r\nwere dead. Their chief was also dead, likewise the mayor. All law and\r\norder had ceased. The bodies were lying in the streets un-buried. All\r\nrailroads and vessels carrying food and such things into the great\r\ncity had ceased runnings and mobs of the hungry poor were pillaging\r\nthe stores and warehouses. Murder and robbery and drunkenness were\r\neverywhere. Already the people had fled from the city by millions--at\r\nfirst the rich, in their private motor-cars and dirigibles, and then the\r\ngreat mass of the population, on foot, carrying the plague with them,\r\nthemselves starving and pillaging the farmers and all the towns and\r\nvillages on the way.\r\n\r\n[Illustration: Fled from the city by millions 092]\r\n\r\n\u201cThe man who sent this news, the wireless operator, was alone with his\r\ninstrument on the top of a lofty building. The people remaining in the\r\ncity--he estimated them at several hundred thousand--had gone mad from\r\nfear and drink, and on all sides of him great fires were raging. He was\r\na hero, that man who staid by his post--an obscure newspaperman, most\r\nlikely.\r\n\r\n\u201cFor twenty-four hours, he said, no transatlantic airships had arrived,\r\nand no more messages were coming from England. He did state, though,\r\nthat a message from Berlin--that\u2019s in Germany--announced that Hoffmeyer,\r\na bacteriologist of the Metchnikoff School, had discovered the serum for\r\nthe plague. That was the last word, to this day, that we of America\r\never received from Europe. If Hoffmeyer discovered the serum, it was too\r\nlate, or otherwise, long ere this, explorers from Europe would have\r\ncome looking for us. We can only conclude that what happened in America\r\nhappened in Europe, and that, at the best, some several score may have\r\nsurvived the Scarlet Death on that whole continent.\r\n\r\n\u201cFor one day longer the despatches continued to come from New York.\r\nThen they, too, ceased. The man who had sent them, perched in his lofty\r\nbuilding, had either died of the plague or been consumed in the great\r\nconflagrations he had described as raging around him. And what had\r\noccurred in New York had been duplicated in all the other cities. It was\r\nthe same in San Francisco, and Oakland, and Berkeley. By Thursday the\r\npeople were dying so rapidly that their corpses could not be handled,\r\nand dead bodies lay everywhere. Thursday night the panic outrush for\r\nthe country began. Imagine, my grandsons, people, thicker than the\r\nsalmon-run you have seen on the Sacramento river, pouring out of the\r\ncities by millions, madly over the country, in vain attempt to escape\r\nthe ubiquitous death. You see, they carried the germs with them. Even\r\nthe airships of the rich, fleeing for mountain and desert fastnesses,\r\ncarried the germs.\r\n\r\n\u201cHundreds of these airships escaped to Hawaii, and not only did they\r\nbring the plague with them, but they found the plague already there\r\nbefore them. This we learned, by the despatches, until all order in San\r\nFrancisco vanished, and there were no operators left at their posts to\r\nreceive or send. It was amazing, astounding, this loss of communication\r\nwith the world. It was exactly as if the world had ceased, been blotted\r\nout. For sixty years that world has no longer existed for me. I know\r\nthere must be such places as New York, Europe, Asia, and Africa; but not\r\none word has been heard of them--not in sixty years. With the coming of\r\nthe Scarlet Death the world fell apart, absolutely, irretrievably. Ten\r\nthousand years of culture and civilization passed in the twinkling of an\r\neye, \u2018lapsed like foam.\u2019\r\n\r\n\u201cI was telling about the airships of the rich. They carried the plague\r\nwith them and no matter where they fled, they died. I never encountered\r\nbut one survivor of any of them--Mungerson. He was afterwards a Santa\r\nRosan, and he married my eldest daughter. He came into the tribe eight\r\nyears after the plague. He was then nineteen years old, and he was\r\ncompelled to wait twelve years more before he could marry. You see,\r\nthere were no unmarried women, and some of the older daughters of the\r\nSanta Rosans were already bespoken. So he was forced to wait until\r\nmy Mary had grown to sixteen years. It was his son, Gimp-Leg, who was\r\nkilled last year by the mountain lion.\r\n\r\n\u201cMungerson was eleven years old at the time of the plague. His father\r\nwas one of the Industrial Magnates, a very wealthy, powerful man. It was\r\non his airship, the Condor, that they were fleeing, with all the family,\r\nfor the wilds of British Columbia, which is far to the north of here.\r\nBut there was some accident, and they were wrecked near Mount Shasta.\r\nYou have heard of that mountain. It is far to the north. The plague\r\nbroke out amongst them, and this boy of eleven was the only survivor.\r\nFor eight years he was alone, wandering over a deserted land and looking\r\nvainly for his own kind. And at last, travelling south, he picked up\r\nwith us, the Santa Rosans.\r\n\r\n\u201cBut I am ahead of my story. When the great exodus from the cities\r\naround San Francisco Bay began, and while the telephones were still\r\nworking, I talked with my brother. I told him this flight from the\r\ncities was insanity, that there were no symptoms of the plague in\r\nme, and that the thing for us to do was to isolate ourselves and our\r\nrelatives in some safe place. We decided on the Chemistry Building, at\r\nthe university, and we planned to lay in a supply of provisions, and by\r\nforce of arms to prevent any other persons from forcing their presence\r\nupon us after we had retired to our refuge.\r\n\r\n\u201cAll this being arranged, my brother begged me to stay in my own\r\nhouse for at least twenty-four hours more, on the chance of the plague\r\ndeveloping in me. To this I agreed, and he promised to come for me next\r\nday. We talked on over the details of the provisioning and the defending\r\nof the Chemistry Building until the telephone died. It died in the midst\r\nof our conversation. That evening there were no electric lights, and\r\nI was alone in my house in the darkness. No more newspapers were being\r\nprinted, so I had no knowledge of what was taking place outside.\r\n\r\n[Illustration: I heard sounds of rioting and of pistol shots 098]\r\n\r\n\u201cI heard sounds of rioting and of pistol shots, and from my windows I\r\ncould see the glare of the sky of some conflagration in the direction\r\nof Oakland. It was a night of terror. I did not sleep a wink. A man--why\r\nand how I do not know--was killed on the sidewalk in front of the house.\r\nI heard the rapid reports of an automatic pistol, and a few minutes\r\nlater the wounded wretch crawled up to my door, moaning and crying out\r\nfor help. Arming myself with two automatics, I went to him. By the light\r\nof a match I ascertained that while he was dying of the bullet wounds,\r\nat the same time the plague was on him. I fled indoors, whence I heard\r\nhim moan and cry out for half an hour longer.\r\n\r\n\u201cIn the morning, my brother came to me. I had gathered into a handbag\r\nwhat things of value I purposed taking, but when I saw his face I knew\r\nthat he would never accompany me to the Chemistry Building. The plague\r\nwas on him. He intended shaking my hand, but I went back hurriedly\r\nbefore him.\r\n\r\n\u201c\u2018Look at yourself in the mirror,\u2019 I commanded.\r\n\r\n[Illustration: Look at yourself in the mirror 100]\r\n\r\n\u201cHe did so, and at sight of his scarlet face, the color deepening as he\r\nlooked at it, he sank down nervelessly in a chair.\r\n\r\n\u201c\u2018My God!\u2019 he said. \u2018I\u2019ve got it. Don\u2019t come near me. I am a dead man.\u2019\r\n\r\n\u201cThen the convulsions seized him. He was two hours in dying, and he\r\nwas conscious to the last, complaining about the coldness and loss of\r\nsensation in his feet, his calves, his thighs, until at last it was his\r\nheart and he was dead.\r\n\r\n\u201cThat was the way the Scarlet Death slew. I caught up my handbag and\r\nfled. The sights in the streets were terrible. One stumbled on bodies\r\neverywhere. Some were not yet dead. And even as you looked, you saw men\r\nsink down with the death fastened upon them. There were numerous fires\r\nburning in Berkeley, while Oakland and San Francisco were apparently\r\nbeing swept by vast conflagrations. The smoke of the burning filled the\r\nheavens, so that the midday was as a gloomy twilight, and, in the shifts\r\nof wind, sometimes the sun shone through dimly, a dull red orb. Truly,\r\nmy grandsons, it was like the last days of the end of the world.\r\n\r\n\u201cThere were numerous stalled motor cars, showing that the gasoline and\r\nthe engine supplies of the garages had given out. I remember one such\r\ncar. A man and a woman lay back dead in the seats, and on the pavement\r\nnear it were two more women and a child. Strange and terrible sights\r\nthere were on every hand. People slipped by silently, furtively, like\r\nghosts--white-faced women carrying infants in their arms; fathers\r\nleading children by the hand; singly, and in couples, and in\r\nfamilies--all fleeing out of the city of death. Some carried supplies\r\nof food, others blankets and valuables, and there were many who carried\r\nnothing.\r\n\r\n\u201cThere was a grocery store--a place where food was sold. The man to whom\r\nit belonged--I knew him well--a quiet, sober, but stupid and obstinate\r\nfellow, was defending it. The windows and doors had been broken in, but\r\nhe, inside, hiding behind a counter, was discharging his pistol at a\r\nnumber of men on the sidewalk who were breaking in. In the entrance were\r\nseveral bodies--of men, I decided, whom he had killed earlier in the\r\nday. Even as I looked on from a distance, I saw one of the robbers break\r\nthe windows of the adjoining store, a place where shoes were sold,\r\nand deliberately set fire to it. I did not go to the groceryman\u2019s\r\nassistance. The time for such acts had already passed. Civilization was\r\ncrumbling, and it was each for himself.\u201d\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nIV\r\n\r\nI WENT away hastily, down a cross-street, and at the first corner I saw\r\nanother tragedy. Two men of the working class had caught a man and a\r\nwoman with two children, and were robbing them. I knew the man by sight,\r\nthough I had never been introduced to him. He was a poet whose verses I\r\nhad long admired. Yet I did not go to his help, for at the moment I came\r\nupon the scene there was a pistol shot, and I saw him sinking to the\r\nground. The woman screamed, and she was felled with a fist-blow by one\r\nof the brutes. I cried out threateningly, whereupon they discharged\r\ntheir pistols at me and I ran away around the corner. Here I was blocked\r\nby an advancing conflagration. The buildings on both sides were burning,\r\nand the street was filled with smoke and flame. From somewhere in that\r\nmurk came a woman\u2019s voice calling shrilly for help. But I did not go to\r\nher. A man\u2019s heart turned to iron amid such scenes, and one heard all\r\ntoo many appeals for help.\r\n\r\n\u201cReturning to the corner, I found the two robbers were gone. The poet\r\nand his wife lay dead on the pavement. It was a shocking sight. The two\r\nchildren had vanished--whither I could not tell. And I knew, now, why\r\nit was that the fleeing persons I encountered slipped along so furtively\r\nand with such white faces. In the midst of our civilization, down in our\r\nslums and labor-ghettos, we had bred a race of barbarians, of savages;\r\nand now, in the time of our calamity, they turned upon us like the wild\r\nbeasts they were and destroyed us. And they destroyed themselves as\r\nwell.\r\n\r\n[Illustration: Now in the time of calamity they turned on us 108]\r\n\r\n\u201cThey inflamed themselves with strong drink and committed a thousand\r\natrocities, quarreling and killing one another in the general madness.\r\nOne group of workingmen I saw, of the better sort, who had banded\r\ntogether, and, with their women and children in their midst, the sick\r\nand aged in litters and being carried, and with a number of horses\r\npulling a truck-load of provisions, they were fighting their way out\r\nof the city. They made a fine spectacle as they came down the street\r\nthrough the drifting smoke, though they nearly shot me when I first\r\nappeared in their path. As they went by, one of their leaders shouted\r\nout to me in apologetic explanation. He said they were killing the\r\nrobbers and looters on sight, and that they had thus banded together as\r\nthe only-means by which to escape the prowlers.\r\n\r\n\u201cIt was here that I saw for the first time what I was soon to see so\r\noften. One of the marching men had suddenly shown the unmistakable mark\r\nof the plague. Immediately those about him drew away, and he, without\r\na remonstrance, stepped out of his place to let them pass on. A woman,\r\nmost probably his wife, attempted to follow him. She was leading a\r\nlittle boy by the hand. But the husband commanded her sternly to go on,\r\nwhile others laid hands on her and restrained her from following him.\r\nThis I saw, and I saw the man also, with his scarlet blaze of face, step\r\ninto a doorway on the opposite side of the street. I heard the report of\r\nhis pistol, and saw him sink lifeless to the ground.\r\n\r\n\u201cAfter being turned aside twice again by advancing fires, I succeeded in\r\ngetting through to the university. On the edge of the campus I came\r\nupon a party of university folk who were going in the direction of the\r\nChemistry Building. They were all family men, and their families were\r\nwith them, including the nurses and the servants. Professor Badminton\r\ngreeted me, I had difficulty in recognizing him. Somewhere he had gone\r\nthrough flames, and his beard was singed off. About his head was a\r\nbloody bandage, and his clothes were filthy.\r\n\r\n[Illustration: He told me he had been Cruelly Beaten 112]\r\n\r\n\u201cHe told me he had prowlers, and that his brother had been killed the\r\nprevious night, in the defence of their dwelling.\r\n\r\n\u201cMidway across the campus, he pointed suddenly to Mrs. Swinton\u2019s face.\r\nThe unmistakable scarlet was there. Immediately all the other women set\r\nup a screaming and began to run away from her. Her two children were\r\nwith a nurse, and these also ran with the women. But her husband, Doctor\r\nSwinton, remained with her.\r\n\r\n\u201c\u2018Go on, Smith,\u2019 he told me. \u2018Keep an eye on the children. As for me,\r\nI shall stay with my wife. I know she is as already dead, but I can\u2019t\r\nleave her. Afterwards, if I escape, I shall come to the Chemistry\r\nBuilding, and do you watch for me and let me in.\u2019\r\n\r\n\u201cI left him bending over his wife and soothing her last moments, while\r\nI ran to overtake the party. We were the last to be admitted to the\r\nChemistry Building. After that, with our automatic rifles we maintained\r\nour isolation. By our plans, we had arranged for a company of sixty to\r\nbe in this refuge. Instead, every one of the number originally planned\r\nhad added relatives and friends and whole families until there were over\r\nfour hundred souls. But the Chemistry Building was large, and, standing\r\nby itself, was in no danger of being burned by the great fires that\r\nraged everywhere in the city.\r\n\r\n\u201cA large quantity of provisions had been gathered, and a food committee\r\ntook charge of it, issuing rations daily to the various families and\r\ngroups that arranged themselves into messes. A number of committees were\r\nappointed, and we developed a very efficient organization. I was on the\r\ncommittee of defence, though for the first day no prowlers came near. We\r\ncould see them in the distance, however, and by the smoke of their fires\r\nknew that several camps of them were occupying the far edge of the\r\ncampus. Drunkenness was rife, and often we heard them singing ribald\r\nsongs or insanely shouting. While the world crashed to ruin about them\r\nand all the air was filled with the smoke of its burning, these low\r\ncreatures gave rein to their bestiality and fought and drank and died.\r\nAnd after all, what did it matter? Everybody died anyway, the good and\r\nthe bad, the efficients and the weaklings, those that loved to live and\r\nthose that scorned to live. They passed. Everything passed.\r\n\r\n\u201cWhen twenty-four hours had gone by and no signs of the plague were\r\napparent, we congratulated ourselves and set about digging a well. You\r\nhave seen the great iron pipes which in those days carried water to all\r\nthe city-dwellers. We feared that the fires in the city would burst the\r\npipes and empty the reservoirs. So we tore up the cement floor of the\r\ncentral court of the Chemistry Building and dug a well. There were many\r\nyoung men, undergraduates, with us, and we worked night and day on the\r\nwell. And our fears were confirmed. Three hours before we reached water,\r\nthe pipes went dry.\r\n\r\n\u201cA second twenty-four hours passed, and still the plague did not\r\nappear among us. We thought we were saved. But we did not know what I\r\nafterwards decided to be true, namely, that the period of the incubation\r\nof the plague germs in a human\u2019s body was a matter of a number of days.\r\nIt slew so swiftly when once it manifested itself, that we were led to\r\nbelieve that the period of incubation was equally swift. So, when two\r\ndays had left us unscathed, we were elated with the idea that we were\r\nfree of the contagion.\r\n\r\n\u201cBut the third day disillusioned us. I can never forget the night\r\npreceding it. I had charge of the night guards from eight to twelve,\r\nand from the roof of the building I watched the passing of all man\u2019s\r\nglorious works. So terrible were the local conflagrations that all the\r\nsky was lighted up. One could read the finest print in the red glare.\r\nAll the world seemed wrapped in flames. San Francisco spouted smoke and\r\nfire from a score of vast conflagrations that were like so many active\r\nvolcanoes. Oakland, San Leandro, Haywards--all were burning; and to the\r\nnorthward, clear to Point Richmond, other fires were at work. It was an\r\nawe-inspiring spectacle. Civilization, my grandsons, civilization was\r\npassing in a sheet of flame and a breath of death. At ten o\u2019clock that\r\nnight, the great powder magazines at Point Pinole exploded in rapid\r\nsuccession. So terrific were the concussions that the strong building\r\nrocked as in an earthquake, while every pane of glass was broken. It was\r\nthen that I left the roof and went down the long corridors, from room to\r\nroom, quieting the alarmed women and telling them what had happened.\r\n\r\n\u201cAn hour later, at a window on the ground floor, I heard pandemonium\r\nbreak out in the camps of the prowlers. There were cries and screams,\r\nand shots from many pistols. As we afterward conjectured, this fight had\r\nbeen precipitated by an attempt on the part of those that were well\r\nto drive out those that were sick. At any rate, a number of the\r\nplague-stricken prowlers escaped across the campus and drifted against\r\nour doors. We warned them back, but they cursed us and discharged a\r\nfusillade from their pistols. Professor Merryweather, at one of the\r\nwindows, was instantly killed, the bullet striking him squarely between\r\nthe eyes. We opened fire in turn, and all the prowlers fled away with\r\nthe exception of three. One was a woman. The plague was on them and they\r\nwere reckless. Like foul fiends, there in the red glare from the skies,\r\nwith faces blazing, they continued to curse us and fire at us. One of\r\nthe men I shot with my own hand. After that the other man and the woman,\r\nstill cursing us, lay down under our windows, where we were compelled to\r\nwatch them die of the plague.\r\n\r\n\u201cThe situation was critical. The explosions of the powder magazines\r\nhad broken all the windows of the Chemistry Building, so that we were\r\nexposed to the germs from the corpses. The sanitary committee was called\r\nupon to act, and it responded nobly. Two men were required to go out and\r\nremove the corpses, and this meant the probable sacrifice of their own\r\nlives, for, having performed the task, they were not to be permitted to\r\nreenter the building. One of the professors, who was a bachelor, and\r\none of the undergraduates volunteered. They bade good-bye to us and\r\nwent forth. They were heroes. They gave up their lives that four hundred\r\nothers might live. After they had performed their work, they stood for\r\na moment, at a distance, looking at us wistfully. Then they waved their\r\nhands in farewell and went away slowly across the campus toward the\r\nburning city.\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd yet it was all useless. The next morning the first one of us was\r\nsmitten with the plague--a little nurse-girl in the family of Professor\r\nStout. It was no time for weak-kneed, sentimental policies. On the\r\nchance that she might be the only one, we thrust her forth from the\r\nbuilding and commanded her to be gone.\r\n\r\n[Illustration: We thrust her forth from the building 121]\r\n\r\n\u201cShe went away slowly across the campus, wringing her hands and crying\r\npitifully. We felt like brutes, but what were we to do? There were four\r\nhundred of us, and individuals had to be sacrificed.\r\n\r\n\u201cIn one of the laboratories three families had domiciled themselves, and\r\nthat afternoon we found among them no less than four corpses and seven\r\ncases of the plague in all its different stages.\r\n\r\n\u201cThen it was that the horror began. Leaving the dead lie, we forced the\r\nliving ones to segregate themselves in another room. The plague began to\r\nbreak out among the rest of us, and as fast as the symptoms appeared, we\r\nsent the stricken ones to these segregated rooms. We compelled them to\r\nwalk there by themselves, so as to avoid laying hands on them. It was\r\nheartrending. But still the plague raged among us, and room after\r\nroom was filled with the dead and dying. And so we who were yet clean\r\nretreated to the next floor and to the next, before this sea of the\r\ndead, that, room by room and floor by floor, inundated the building.\r\n\r\n\u201cThe place became a charnel house, and in the middle of the night\r\nthe survivors fled forth, taking nothing with them except arms and\r\nammunition and a heavy store of tinned foods. We camped on the opposite\r\nside of the campus from the prowlers, and, while some stood guard,\r\nothers of us volunteered to scout into the city in quest of horses,\r\nmotor cars, carts, and wagons, or anything that would carry our\r\nprovisions and enable us to emulate the banded workingmen I had seen\r\nfighting their way out to the open country.\r\n\r\n\u201cI was one of these scouts; and Doctor Hoyle, remembering that his motor\r\ncar had been left behind in his home garage, told me to look for it. We\r\nscouted in pairs, and Dombey, a young undergraduate, accompanied me. We\r\nhad to cross half a mile of the residence portion of the city to get\r\nto Doctor Hoyle\u2019s home. Here the buildings stood apart, in the midst of\r\ntrees and grassy lawns, and here the fires had played freaks, burning\r\nwhole blocks, skipping blocks and often skipping a single house in a\r\nblock. And here, too, the prowlers were still at their work. We carried\r\nour automatic pistols openly in our hands, and looked desperate enough,\r\nforsooth, to keep them from attacking us. But at Doctor Hoyle\u2019s house\r\nthe thing happened. Untouched by fire, even as we came to it the smoke\r\nof flames burst forth.\r\n\r\n\u201cThe miscreant who had set fire to it staggered down the steps and out\r\nalong the driveway. Sticking out of his coat pockets were bottles of\r\nwhiskey, and he was very drunk. My first impulse was to shoot him, and\r\nI have never ceased regretting that I did not. Staggering and maundering\r\nto himself, with bloodshot eyes, and a raw and bleeding slash down one\r\nside of his bewhiskered face, he was altogether the most nauseating\r\nspecimen of degradation and filth I had ever encountered. I did not\r\nshoot him, and he leaned against a tree on the lawn to let us go by.\r\nIt was the most absolute, wanton act. Just as we were opposite him,\r\nhe suddenly drew a pistol and shot Dombey through the head. The next\r\ninstant I shot him. But it was too late. Dombey expired without a groan,\r\nimmediately. I doubt if he even knew what had happened to him.\r\n\r\n\u201cLeaving the two corpses, I hurried on past the burning house to the\r\ngarage, and there found Doctor Hoyle\u2019s motor car. The tanks were filled\r\nwith gasoline, and it was ready for use. And it was in this car that I\r\nthreaded the streets of the ruined city and came back to the survivors\r\non the campus. The other scouts returned, but none had been so\r\nfortunate. Professor Fairmead had found a Shetland pony, but the poor\r\ncreature, tied in a stable and abandoned for days, was so weak from want\r\nof food and water that it could carry no burden at all. Some of the men\r\nwere for turning it loose, but I insisted that we should lead it along\r\nwith us, so that, if we got out of food, we would have it to eat.\r\n\r\n\u201cThere were forty-seven of us when we started, many being women and\r\nchildren. The President of the Faculty, an old man to begin with, and\r\nnow hopelessly broken by the awful happenings of the past week, rode\r\nin the motor car with several young children and the aged mother of\r\nProfessor Fairmead. Wathope, a young professor of English, who had a\r\ngrievous bullet-wound in his leg, drove the car. The rest of us walked,\r\nProfessor Fairmead leading the pony.\r\n\r\n\u201cIt was what should have been a bright summer day, but the smoke from\r\nthe burning world filled the sky, through which the sun shone murkily,\r\na dull and lifeless orb, blood-red and ominous. But we had grown\r\naccustomed to that blood-red sun. With the smoke it was different. It\r\nbit into our nostrils and eyes, and there was not one of us whose eyes\r\nwere not bloodshot. We directed our course to the southeast through the\r\nendless miles of suburban residences, travelling along where the first\r\nswells of low hills rose from the flat of the central city. It was by\r\nthis way, only, that we could expect to gain the country.\r\n\r\n\u201cOur progress was painfully slow. The women and children could not walk\r\nfast. They did not dream of walking, my grandsons, in the way all people\r\nwalk to-day. In truth, none of us knew how to walk. It was not until\r\nafter the plague that I learned really to walk. So it was that the pace\r\nof the slowest was the pace of all, for we dared not separate on account\r\nof the prowlers. There were not so many now of these human beasts of\r\nprey. The plague had already well diminished their numbers, but enough\r\nstill lived to be a constant menace to us. Many of the beautiful\r\nresidences were untouched by fire, yet smoking ruins were everywhere.\r\nThe prowlers, too, seemed to have got over their insensate desire to\r\nburn, and it was more rarely that we saw houses freshly on fire.\r\n\r\n\u201cSeveral of us scouted among the private garages in search of motor cars\r\nand gasoline. But in this we were unsuccessful. The first great flights\r\nfrom the cities had swept all such utilities away. Calgan, a fine young\r\nman, was lost in this work. He was shot by prowlers while crossing a\r\nlawn. Yet this was our only casualty, though, once, a drunken brute\r\ndeliberately opened fire on all of us. Luckily, he fired wildly, and we\r\nshot him before he had done any hurt.\r\n\r\n\u201cAt Fruitvale, still in the heart of the magnificent residence section\r\nof the city, the plague again smote us. Professor Fair-mead was the\r\nvictim. Making signs to us that his mother was not to know, he turned\r\naside into the grounds of a beautiful mansion. He sat down forlornly on\r\nthe steps of the front veranda, and I, having lingered, waved him a last\r\nfarewell. That night, several miles beyond Fruitvale and still in the\r\ncity, we made camp. And that night we shifted camp twice to get away\r\nfrom our dead. In the morning there were thirty of us. I shall never\r\nforget the President of the Faculty. During the morning\u2019s march his\r\nwife, who was walking, betrayed the fatal symptoms, and when she\r\ndrew aside to let us go on, he insisted on leaving the motor car and\r\nremaining with her. There was quite a discussion about this, but in the\r\nend we gave in. It was just as well, for we knew not which ones of us,\r\nif any, might ultimately escape.\r\n\r\n\u201cThat night, the second of our march, we camped beyond Haywards in the\r\nfirst stretches of country. And in the morning there were eleven of us\r\nthat lived. Also, during the night, Wathope, the professor with the\r\nwounded leg, deserted us in the motor car. He took with him his sister\r\nand his mother and most of our tinned provisions. It was that day, in\r\nthe afternoon, while resting by the wayside, that I saw the last airship\r\nI shall ever see. The smoke was much thinner here in the country, and I\r\nfirst sighted the ship drifting and veering helplessly at an elevation\r\nof two thousand feet. What had happened I could not conjecture, but even\r\nas we looked we saw her bow dip down lower and lower. Then the bulkheads\r\nof the various gas-chambers must have burst, for, quite perpendicular,\r\nshe fell like a plummet to the earth.\r\n\r\n[Illustration: She fell like a plummet to the earth 132]\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd from that day to this I have not seen another airship. Often and\r\noften, during the next few years, I scanned the sky for them, hoping\r\nagainst hope that somewhere in the world civilization had survived. But\r\nit was not to be. What happened with us in California must have happened\r\nwith everybody everywhere.\r\n\r\n\u201cAnother day, and at Niles there were three of us. Beyond Niles, in the\r\nmiddle of the highway, we found Wathope. The motor car had broken down,\r\nand there, on the rugs which they had spread on the ground, lay the\r\nbodies of his sister, his mother, and himself.\r\n\r\n\u201cWearied by the unusual exercise of continual walking, that night I\r\nslept heavily. In the morning I was alone in the world. Canfield and\r\nParsons, my last companions, were dead of the plague. Of the four\r\nhundred that sought shelter in the Chemistry Building, and of the\r\nforty-seven that began the march, I alone remained--I and the Shetland\r\npony. Why this should be so there is no explaining. I did not catch the\r\nplague, that is all. I was immune. I was merely the one lucky man in\r\na million--just as every survivor was one in a million, or, rather, in\r\nseveral millions, for the proportion was at least that.\u201d\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nV\r\n\r\n\u201cFOR two days I sheltered in a pleasant grove where there had been no\r\ndeaths. In those two days, while badly depressed and believing that my\r\nturn would come at any moment, nevertheless I rested and recuperated. So\r\ndid the pony. And on the third day, putting what small store of tinned\r\nprovisions I possessed on the pony\u2019s back, I started on across a very\r\nlonely land. Not a live man, woman, or child, did I encounter, though\r\nthe dead were everywhere. Food, however, was abundant. The land then\r\nwas not as it is now. It was all cleared of trees and brush, and it was\r\ncultivated. The food for millions of mouths was growing, ripening, and\r\ngoing to waste. From the fields and orchards I gathered vegetables,\r\nfruits, and berries. Around the deserted farmhouses I got eggs and\r\ncaught chickens. And frequently I found supplies of tinned provisions in\r\nthe store-rooms.\r\n\r\n\u201cA strange thing was what was taking place with all the domestic\r\nanimals. Everywhere they were going wild and preying on one another. The\r\nchickens and ducks were the first to be destroyed, while the pigs were\r\nthe first to go wild, followed by the cats. Nor were the dogs long in\r\nadapting themselves to the changed conditions. There was a veritable\r\nplague of dogs. They devoured the corpses, barked and howled during the\r\nnights, and in the daytime slunk about in the distance. As the time went\r\nby, I noticed a change in their behavior. At first they were apart from\r\none another, very suspicious and very prone to fight. But after a not\r\nvery long while they began to come together and run in packs. The dog,\r\nyou see, always was a social animal, and this was true before ever he\r\ncame to be domesticated by man. In the last days of the world before the\r\nplague, there were many many very different kinds of dogs--dogs without\r\nhair and dogs with warm fur, dogs so small that they would make scarcely\r\na mouthful for other dogs that were as large as mountain lions. Well,\r\nall the small dogs, and the weak types, were killed by their fellows.\r\nAlso, the very large ones were not adapted for the wild life and bred\r\nout. As a result, the many different kinds of dogs disappeared, and\r\nthere remained, running in packs, the medium-sized wolfish dogs that you\r\nknow to-day.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cBut the cats don\u2019t run in packs, Granser,\u201d Hoo-Hoo objected.\r\n\r\n\u201cThe cat was never a social animal. As one writer in the nineteenth\r\ncentury said, the cat walks by himself. He always walked by himself,\r\nfrom before the time he was tamed by man, down through the long ages of\r\ndomestication, to to-day when once more he is wild.\r\n\r\n\u201cThe horses also went wild, and all the fine breeds we had degenerated\r\ninto the small mustang horse you know to-day. The cows likewise went\r\nwild, as did the pigeons and the sheep. And that a few of the chickens\r\nsurvived you know yourself. But the wild chicken of to-day is quite a\r\ndifferent thing from the chickens we had in those days.\r\n\r\n\u201cBut I must go on with my story. I travelled through a deserted land. As\r\nthe time went by I began to yearn more and more for human beings. But I\r\nnever found one, and I grew lonelier and lonelier. I crossed Livermore\r\nValley and the mountains between it and the great valley of the San\r\nJoaquin. You have never seen that valley, but it is very large and it is\r\nthe home of the wild horse. There are great droves there, thousands and\r\ntens of thousands. I revisited it thirty years after, so I know. You\r\nthink there are lots of wild horses down here in the coast valleys, but\r\nthey are as nothing compared with those of the San Joaquin. Strange to\r\nsay, the cows, when they went wild, went back into the lower mountains.\r\nEvidently they were better able to protect themselves there.\r\n\r\n\u201cIn the country districts the ghouls and prowlers had been less in\r\nevidence, for I found many villages and towns untouched by fire. But\r\nthey were filled by the pestilential dead, and I passed by without\r\nexploring them. It was near Lathrop that, out of my loneliness, I picked\r\nup a pair of collie dogs that were so newly free that they were urgently\r\nwilling to return to their allegiance to man. These collies accompanied\r\nme for many years, and the strains of them are in those very dogs there\r\nthat you boys have to-day. But in sixty years the collie strain has\r\nworked out. These brutes are more like domesticated wolves than anything\r\nelse.\u201d\r\n\r\nHare-Lip rose to his feet, glanced to see that the goats were safe,\r\nand looked at the sun\u2019s position in the afternoon sky, advertising\r\nimpatience at the prolixity of the old man\u2019s tale. Urged to hurry by\r\nEdwin, Granser went on.\r\n\r\n\u201cThere is little more to tell. With my two dogs and my pony, and riding\r\na horse I had managed to capture, I crossed the San Joaquin and went on\r\nto a wonderful valley in the Sierras called Yosemite. In the great hotel\r\nthere I found a prodigious supply of tinned provisions. The pasture was\r\nabundant, as was the game, and the river that ran through the valley was\r\nfull of trout. I remained there three years in an utter loneliness that\r\nnone but a man who has once been highly civilized can understand. Then\r\nI could stand it no more. I felt that I was going crazy. Like the dog,\r\nI was a social animal and I needed my kind. I reasoned that since I had\r\nsurvived the plague, there was a possibility that others had survived.\r\nAlso, I reasoned that after three years the plague germs must all be\r\ngone and the land be clean again.\r\n\r\n[Illustration: With my horse and dogs and pony, I set out 144]\r\n\r\n\u201cWith my horse and dogs and pony, I set out. Again I crossed the San\r\nJoaquin Valley, the mountains beyond, and came down into Livermore\r\nValley. The change in those three years was amazing. All the land had\r\nbeen splendidly tilled, and now I could scarcely recognize it, \u2018such was\r\nthe sea of rank vegetation that had overrun the agricultural handiwork\r\nof man. You see, the wheat, the vegetables, and orchard trees had always\r\nbeen cared for and nursed by man, so that they were soft and tender. The\r\nweeds and wild bushes and such things, on the contrary, had always been\r\nfought by man, so that they were tough and resistant. As a result, when\r\nthe hand of man was removed, the wild vegetation smothered and destroyed\r\npractically all the domesticated vegetation. The coyotes were greatly\r\nincreased, and it was at this time that I first encountered wolves,\r\nstraying in twos and threes and small packs down from the regions where\r\nthey had always persisted.\r\n\r\n\u201cIt was at Lake Temescal, not far from the one-time city of Oakland,\r\nthat I came upon the first live human beings. Oh, my grandsons, how can\r\nI describe to you my emotion, when, astride my horse and dropping down\r\nthe hillside to the lake, I saw the smoke of a campfire rising through\r\nthe trees. Almost did my heart stop beating. I felt that I was going\r\ncrazy. Then I heard the cry of a babe--a human babe. And dogs barked,\r\nand my dogs answered. I did not know but what I was the one human alive\r\nin the whole world. It could not be true that here were others--smoke,\r\nand the cry of a babe.\r\n\r\n\u201cEmerging on the lake, there, before my eyes, not a hundred yards away,\r\nI saw a man, a large man. He was standing on an outjutting rock and\r\nfishing. I was overcome. I stopped my horse. I tried to call out but\r\ncould not. I waved my hand. It seemed to me that the man looked at me,\r\nbut he did not appear to wave. Then I laid my head on my arms there\r\nin the saddle. I was afraid to look again, for I knew it was an\r\nhallucination, and I knew that if I looked the man would be gone. And so\r\nprecious was the hallucination, that I wanted it to persist yet a little\r\nwhile. I knew, too, that as long as I did not look it would persist.\r\n\r\n\u201cThus I remained, until I heard my dogs snarling, and a man\u2019s voice.\r\nWhat do you think the voice said? I will tell you. It said: \u2018_Where in\r\nhell did you come from??_\u2019\r\n\r\n\u201cThose were the words, the exact words. That was what your other\r\ngrandfather said to me, Hare-Lip, when he greeted me there on the shore\r\nof Lake Temescal fifty-seven years ago. And they were the most ineffable\r\nwords I have ever heard. I opened my eyes, and there he stood before me,\r\na large, dark, hairy man, heavy-jawed, slant-browed, fierce-eyed. How I\r\ngot off my horse I do not know. But it seemed that the next I knew I was\r\nclasping his hand with both of mine and crying. I would have embraced\r\nhim, but he was ever a narrow-minded, suspicious man, and he drew away\r\nfrom me. Yet did I cling to his hand and cry.\u201d\r\n\r\nGranser\u2019s voice faltered and broke at the recollection, and the weak\r\ntears streamed down his cheeks while the boys looked on and giggled.\r\n\r\n\u201cYet did I cry,\u201d he continued, \u201cand desire to embrace him, though the\r\nChauffeur was a brute, a perfect brute--the most abhorrent man I have\r\never known. His name was... strange, how I have forgotten his name.\r\nEverybody called him Chauffeur--it was the name of his occupation, and\r\nit stuck. That is how, to this day, the tribe he founded is called the\r\nChauffeur Tribe.\r\n\r\n[Illustration: Everybody called him Chauffeur 149]\r\n\r\n\u201cHe was a violent, unjust man. Why the plague germs spared him I can\r\nnever understand. It would seem, in spite of our old metaphysical\r\nnotions about absolute justice, that there is no justice in the\r\nuniverse. Why did he live?--an iniquitous, moral monster, a blot on the\r\nface of nature, a cruel, relentless, bestial cheat as well. All he\r\ncould talk about was motor cars, machinery, gasoline, and garages--and\r\nespecially, and with huge delight, of his mean pilferings and sordid\r\nswindlings of the persons who had employed him in the days before the\r\ncoming of the plague. And yet he was spared, while hundreds of millions,\r\nyea, billions, of better men were destroyed.\r\n\r\n[Illustration: Vesta the one woman 150]\r\n\r\n\u201cI went on with him to his camp, and there I saw her, Vesta, the one\r\nwoman. It was glorious and... pitiful. There she was, Vesta Van Warden,\r\nthe young wife of John Van Warden, clad in rags, with marred and scarred\r\nand toil-calloused hands, bending over the campfire and doing scullion\r\nwork--she, Vesta, who had been born to the purple of the greatest\r\nbaronage of wealth the world had ever known. John Van Warden, her\r\nhusband, worth one billion, eight hundred millions and President of the\r\nBoard of Industrial Magnates, had been the ruler of America. Also,\r\nsitting on the International Board of Control, he had been one of the\r\nseven men who ruled the world. And she herself had come of equally noble\r\nstock. Her father, Philip Saxon, had been President of the Board of\r\nIndustrial Magnates up to the time of his death. This office was in\r\nprocess of becoming hereditary, and had Philip Saxon had a son that son\r\nwould have succeeded him. But his only child was Vesta, the perfect\r\nflower of generations of the highest culture this planet has ever\r\nproduced. It was not until the engagement between Vesta and Van Warden\r\ntook place, that Saxon indicated the latter as his successor. It was, I\r\nam sure, a political marriage. I have reason to believe that Vesta never\r\nreally loved her husband in the mad passionate way of which the poets\r\nused to sing. It was more like the marriages that obtained among crowned\r\nheads in the days before they were displaced by the Magnates.\r\n\r\n[Illustration: There she was, boiling fish-chowder 153]\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd there she was, boiling fish-chowder in a soot-covered pot, her\r\nglorious eyes inflamed by the acrid smoke of the open fire. Hers was a\r\nsad story. She was the one survivor in a million, as I had been, as\r\nthe Chauffeur had been. On a crowning eminence of the Alameda Hills,\r\noverlooking San Francisco Bay, Van Warden had built a vast summer\r\npalace. It was surrounded by a park of a thousand acres. When the\r\nplague broke out, Van Warden sent her there. Armed guards patrolled the\r\nboundaries of the park, and nothing entered in the way of provisions or\r\neven mail matter that was not first fumigated. And yet did the plague\r\nenter, killing the guards at their posts, the servants at their tasks,\r\nsweeping away the whole army of retainers--or, at least, all of them who\r\ndid not flee to die elsewhere. So it was that Vesta found herself the\r\nsole living person in the palace that had become a charnel house.\r\n\r\n\u201cNow the Chauffeur had been one of the servants that ran away.\r\nReturning, two months afterward, he discovered Vesta in a little summer\r\npavilion where there had been no deaths and where she had established\r\nherself. He was a brute. She was afraid, and she ran away and hid among\r\nthe trees. That night, on foot, she fled into the mountains--she, whose\r\ntender feet and delicate body had never known the bruise of stones nor\r\nthe scratch of briars. He followed, and that night he caught her. He\r\nstruck her. Do you understand? He beat her with those terrible fists of\r\nhis and made her his slave. It was she who had to gather the firewood,\r\nbuild the fires, cook, and do all the degrading camp-labor--she, who had\r\nnever performed a menial act in her life. These things he compelled her\r\nto do, while he, a proper savage, elected to lie around camp and look\r\non. He did nothing, absolutely nothing, except on occasion to hunt meat\r\nor catch fish.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cGood for Chauffeur,\u201d Hare-Lip commented in an undertone to the other\r\nboys. \u201cI remember him before he died. He was a corker. But he did\r\nthings, and he made things go. You know, Dad married his daughter, an\u2019\r\nyou ought to see the way he knocked the spots outa Dad. The Chauffeur\r\nwas a son-of-a-gun. He made us kids stand around. Even when he was\r\ncroaking he reached out for me, once, an\u2019 laid my head open with that\r\nlong stick he kept always beside him.\u201d\r\n\r\nHare-Lip rubbed his bullet head reminiscently, and the boys returned to\r\nthe old man, who was maundering ecstatically about Vesta, the squaw of\r\nthe founder of the Chauffeur Tribe.\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd so I say to you that you cannot understand the awfulness of the\r\nsituation. The Chauffeur was a servant, understand, a servant. And he\r\ncringed, with bowed head, to such as she. She was a lord of life, both\r\nby birth and by marriage. The destinies of millions, such as he, she\r\ncarried in the hollow of her pink-white hand. And, in the days before\r\nthe plague, the slightest contact with such as he would have been\r\npollution. Oh, I have seen it. Once, I remember, there was Mrs. Goldwin,\r\nwife of one of the great magnates. It was on a landing stage, just\r\nas she was embarking in her private dirigible, that she dropped her\r\nparasol. A servant picked it up and made the mistake of handing it to\r\nher--to her, one of the greatest royal ladies of the land! She shrank\r\nback, as though he were a leper, and indicated her secretary to receive\r\nit. Also, she ordered her secretary to ascertain the creature\u2019s name and\r\nto see that he was immediately discharged from service. And such a woman\r\nwas Vesta Van Warden. And her the Chauffeur beat and made his slave.\r\n\r\n[Illustration: And her the Chauffeur beat and made his slave 158]\r\n\r\n\u201c--Bill--that was it; Bill, the Chauffeur. That was his name. He was\r\na wretched, primitive man, wholly devoid of the finer instincts and\r\nchivalrous promptings of a cultured soul. No, there is no absolute\r\njustice, for to him fell that wonder of womanhood, Vesta Van Warden. The\r\ngrievous-ness of this you will never understand, my grandsons; for\r\nyou are yourselves primitive little savages, unaware of aught else but\r\nsavagery. Why should Vesta not have been mine? I was a man of culture\r\nand refinement, a professor in a great university. Even so, in the time\r\nbefore the plague, such was her exalted position, she would not have\r\ndeigned to know that I existed. Mark, then, the abysmal degradation\r\nto which she fell at the hands of the Chauffeur. Nothing less than the\r\ndestruction of all mankind had made it possible that I should know her,\r\nlook in her eyes, converse with her, touch her hand--ay, and love her\r\nand know that her feelings toward me were very kindly. I have reason to\r\nbelieve that she, even she, would have loved me, there being no other\r\nman in the world except the Chauffeur. Why, when it destroyed eight\r\nbillions of souls, did not the plague destroy just one more man, and\r\nthat man the Chauffeur?\r\n\r\n\u201cOnce, when the Chauffeur was away fishing, she begged me to kill him.\r\nWith tears in her eyes she begged me to kill him. But he was a strong\r\nand violent man, and I was afraid. Afterwards, I talked with him. I\r\noffered him my horse, my pony, my dogs, all that I possessed, if he\r\nwould give Vesta to me. And he grinned in my face and shook his head. He\r\nwas very insulting. He said that in the old days he had been a servant,\r\nhad been dirt under the feet of men like me and of women like Vesta, and\r\nthat now he had the greatest lady in the land to be servant to him and\r\ncook his food and nurse his brats. \u2018You had your day before the plague,\u2019\r\nhe said; \u2018but this is my day, and a damned good day it is. I wouldn\u2019t\r\ntrade back to the old times for anything.\u2019 Such words he spoke, but they\r\nare not his words. He was a vulgar, low-minded man, and vile oaths fell\r\ncontinually from his lips.\r\n\r\n\u201cAlso, he told me that if he caught me making eyes at his woman he\u2019d\r\nwring my neck and give her a beating as well. What was I to do? I was\r\nafraid. He was a brute. That first night, when I discovered the camp,\r\nVesta and I had great talk about the things of our vanished world. We\r\ntalked of art, and books, and poetry; and the Chauffeur listened and\r\ngrinned and sneered. He was bored and angered by our way of speech which\r\nhe did not comprehend, and finally he spoke up and said: \u2018And this is\r\nVesta Van Warden, one-time wife of Van Warden the Magnate--a high and\r\nstuck-up beauty, who is now my squaw. Eh, Professor Smith, times is\r\nchanged, times is changed. Here, you, woman, take off my moccasins,\r\nand lively about it. I want Professor Smith to see how well I have you\r\ntrained.\u2019\r\n\r\n\u201cI saw her clench her teeth, and the flame of revolt rise in her face.\r\nHe drew back his gnarled fist to strike, and I was afraid, and sick at\r\nheart. I could do nothing to prevail against him. So I got up to go,\r\nand not be witness to such indignity. But the Chauffeur laughed and\r\nthreatened me with a beating if I did not stay and behold. And I sat\r\nthere, perforce, by the campfire on the shore of Lake Temescal, and\r\nsaw Vesta, Vesta Van Warden, kneel and remove the moccasins of that\r\ngrinning, hairy, apelike human brute.\r\n\r\n\u201c--Oh, you do not understand, my grandsons. You have never known\r\nanything else, and you do not understand.\r\n\r\n\u201c\u2018Halter-broke and bridle-wise,\u2019 the Chauffeur gloated, while she\r\nperformed that dreadful, menial task. \u2018A trifle balky at times,\r\nProfessor, a trifle balky; but a clout alongside the jaw makes her as\r\nmeek and gentle as a lamb.\u2019\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd another time he said: \u2018We\u2019ve got to start all over and replenish\r\nthe earth and multiply. You\u2019re handicapped, Professor. You ain\u2019t got no\r\nwife, and we\u2019re up against a regular Garden-of-Eden proposition. But I\r\nain\u2019t proud. I\u2019ll tell you what, Professor.\u2019 He pointed at their little\r\ninfant, barely a year old. \u2018There\u2019s your wife, though you\u2019ll have to\r\nwait till she grows up. It\u2019s rich, ain\u2019t it? We\u2019re all equals here, and\r\nI\u2019m the biggest toad in the splash. But I ain\u2019t stuck up--not I. I do\r\nyou the honor, Professor Smith, the very great honor of betrothing to\r\nyou my and Vesta Van Warden\u2019s daughter. Ain\u2019t it cussed bad that Van\r\nWarden ain\u2019t here to see?\u2019\u201d\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nVI\r\n\r\n\u201cI LIVED three weeks of infinite torment there in the Chauffeur\u2019s camp.\r\nAnd then, one day, tiring of me, or of what to him was my bad effect\r\non Vesta, he told me that the year before, wandering through the Contra\r\nCosta Hills to the Straits of Carquinez, across the Straits he had seen\r\na smoke. This meant that there were still other human beings, and that\r\nfor three weeks he had kept this inestimably precious information from\r\nme. I departed at once, with my dogs and horses, and journeyed across\r\nthe Contra Costa Hills to the Straits. I saw no smoke on the other side,\r\nbut at Port Costa discovered a small steel barge on which I was able to\r\nembark my animals. Old canvas which I found served me for a sail, and\r\na southerly breeze fanned me across the Straits and up to the ruins\r\nof Vallejo. Here, on the outskirts of the city, I found evidences of a\r\nrecently occupied camp.\r\n\r\n[Illustration: Found evidences of a recently occupied camp 169]\r\n\r\n\u201cMany clam-shells showed me why these humans had come to the shores of\r\nthe Bay. This was the Santa Rosa Tribe, and I followed its track along\r\nthe old railroad right of way across the salt marshes to Sonoma Valley.\r\nHere, at the old brickyard at Glen Ellen, I came upon the camp. There\r\nwere eighteen souls all told. Two were old men, one of whom was Jones, a\r\nbanker. The other was Harrison, a retired pawnbroker, who had taken for\r\nwife the matron of the State Hospital for the Insane at Napa. Of all the\r\npersons of the city of Napa, and of all the other towns and villages\r\nin that rich and populous valley, she had been the only-survivor. Next,\r\nthere were the three young men--Cardiff and Hale, who had been farmers,\r\nand Wainwright, a common day-laborer. All three had found wives. To\r\nHale, a crude, illiterate farmer, had fallen Isadore, the greatest\r\nprize, next to Vesta, of the women who came through the plague. She was\r\none of the world\u2019s most noted singers, and the plague had caught her at\r\nSan Francisco. She has talked with me for hours at a time, telling me of\r\nher adventures, until, at last, rescued by Hale in the Mendocino Forest\r\nReserve, there had remained nothing for her to do but become his wife.\r\nBut Hale was a good fellow, in spite of his illiteracy. He had a keen\r\nsense of justice and right-dealing, and she was far happier with him\r\nthan was Vesta with the Chauffeur.\r\n\r\n\u201cThe wives of Cardiff and Wainwright were ordinary women, accustomed\r\nto toil with strong constitutions--just the type for the wild new life\r\nwhich they were compelled to live. In addition were two adult idiots\r\nfrom the feeble-minded home at El-dredge, and five or six young children\r\nand infants born after the formation of the Santa Rosa Tribe. Also,\r\nthere was Bertha. She was a good woman, Hare-Lip, in spite of the sneers\r\nof your father. Her I took for wife. She was the mother of your father,\r\nEdwin, and of yours, Hoo-Hoo. And it was our daughter, Vera, who married\r\nyour father, Hare-Lip--your father, Sandow, who was the oldest son of\r\nVesta Van Warden and the Chauffeur.\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd so it was that I became the nineteenth member of the Santa Rosa\r\nTribe. There were only two outsiders added after me. One was Mungerson,\r\ndescended from the Magnates, who wandered alone in the wilds of Northern\r\nCalifornia for eight years before he came south and joined us. He it was\r\nwho waited twelve years more before he married my daughter, Mary. The\r\nother was Johnson, the man who founded the Utah Tribe. That was where he\r\ncame from, Utah, a country that lies very far away from here, across the\r\ngreat deserts, to the east. It was not until twenty-seven years after\r\nthe plague that Johnson reached California. In all that Utah region he\r\nreported but three survivors, himself one, and all men. For many years\r\nthese three men lived and hunted together, until, at last, desperate,\r\nfearing that with them the human race would perish utterly from the\r\nplanet, they headed westward on the possibility of finding women\r\nsurvivors in California. Johnson alone came through the great desert,\r\nwhere his two companions died. He was forty-six years old when he joined\r\nus, and he married the fourth daughter of Isadore and Hale, and his\r\neldest son married your aunt, Hare-Lip, who was the third daughter of\r\nVesta and the Chauffeur. Johnson was a strong man, with a will of his\r\nown. And it was because of this that he seceded from the Santa Rosans\r\nand formed the Utah Tribe at San Jos\u00e9. It is a small tribe--there are\r\nonly nine in it; but, though he is dead, such was his influence and the\r\nstrength of his breed, that it will grow into a strong tribe and play a\r\nleading part in the recivilization of the planet.\r\n\r\n\u201cThere are only two other tribes that we know of--the Los Angelitos\r\nand the Carmelitos. The latter started from one man and woman. He was\r\ncalled Lopez, and he was descended from the ancient Mexicans and was\r\nvery black. He was a cowherd in the ranges beyond Carmel, and his wife\r\nwas a maidservant in the great Del Monte Hotel. It was seven years\r\nbefore we first got in touch with the Los Ange-litos. They have a\r\ngood country down there, but it is too warm. I estimate the present\r\npopulation of the world at between three hundred and fifty and four\r\nhundred--provided, of course, that there are no scattered little tribes\r\nelsewhere in the world. If there be such, we have not heard from them.\r\nSince Johnson crossed the desert from Utah, no word nor sign has come\r\nfrom the East or anywhere else. The great world which I knew in my\r\nboyhood and early manhood is gone. It has ceased to be. I am the last\r\nman who was alive in the days of the plague and who knows the wonders of\r\nthat far-off time. We, who mastered the planet--its earth, and sea, and\r\nsky--and who were as very gods, now live in primitive savagery along the\r\nwater courses of this California country.\r\n\r\n\u201cBut we are increasing rapidly--your sister, Hare-Lip, already has four\r\nchildren. We are increasing rapidly and making ready for a new climb\r\ntoward civilization. In time, pressure of population will compel us\r\nto spread out, and a hundred generations from now we may expect our\r\ndescendants to start across the Sierras, oozing slowly along, generation\r\nby generation, over the great continent to the colonization of the\r\nEast--a new Aryan drift around the world.\r\n\r\n\u201cBut it will be slow, very slow; we have so far to climb. We fell so\r\nhopelessly far. If only one physicist or one chemist had survived!\r\nBut it was not to be, and we have forgotten everything. The Chauffeur\r\nstarted working in iron. He made the forge which we use to this day.\r\nBut he was a lazy man, and when he died he took with him all he knew\r\nof metals and machinery. What was I to know of such things? I was a\r\nclassical scholar, not a chemist.. The other men who survived were not\r\neducated. Only two things did the Chauffeur accomplish--the brewing\r\nof strong drink and the growing of tobacco. It was while he was drunk,\r\nonce, that he killed Vesta. I firmly believe that he killed Vesta in a\r\nfit of drunken cruelty though he always maintained that she fell into\r\nthe lake and was drowned.\r\n\r\n\u201cAnd, my grandsons, let me warn you against the medicine-men. They call\r\nthemselves _doctors_, travestying what was once a noble profession, but\r\nin reality they are medicine-men, devil-devil men, and they make for\r\nsuperstition and darkness. They are cheats and liars. But so debased and\r\ndegraded are we, that we believe their lies. They, too, will increase\r\nin numbers as we increase, and they will strive to rule us. Yet are\r\nthey liars and charlatans. Look at young Cross-Eyes, posing as a\r\ndoctor, selling charms against sickness, giving good hunting,\r\nexchanging promises of fair weather for good meat and skins, sending the\r\ndeath-stick, performing a thousand abominations. Yet I say to you,\r\nthat when he says he can do these things, he lies. I, Professor Smith,\r\nProfessor James Howard Smith, say that he lies. I have told him so to\r\nhis teeth. Why has he not sent me the death-stick? Because he knows that\r\nwith me it is without avail. But you, Hare-Lip, so deeply are you\r\nsunk in black superstition that did you awake this night and find the\r\ndeath-stick beside you, you would surely die. And you would die, not\r\nbecause of any virtues in the stick, but because you are a savage with\r\nthe dark and clouded mind of a savage.\r\n\r\n\u201cThe doctors must be destroyed, and all that was lost must be discovered\r\nover again. Wherefore, earnestly, I repeat unto you certain things which\r\nyou must remember and tell to your children after you. You must tell\r\nthem that when water is made hot by fire, there resides in it a\r\nwonderful thing called steam, which is stronger than ten thousand men\r\nand which can do all man\u2019s work for him. There are other very useful\r\nthings. In the lightning flash resides a similarly strong servant of\r\nman, which was of old his slave and which some day will be his slave\r\nagain.\r\n\r\n[Illustration: I have stored many books in a cave 179]\r\n\r\n\u201cQuite a different thing is the alphabet. It is what enables me to\r\nknow the meaning of fine markings, whereas you boys know only rude\r\npicture-writing. In that dry cave on Telegraph Hill, where you see me\r\noften go when the tribe is down by the sea, I have stored many books.\r\nIn them is great wisdom. Also, with them, I have placed a key to the\r\nalphabet, so that one who knows picture-writing may also know print.\r\nSome day men will read again; and then, if no accident has befallen my\r\ncave, they will know that Professor James Howard Smith once lived and\r\nsaved for them the knowledge of the ancients.\r\n\r\n\u201cThere is another little device that men inevitably will rediscover. It\r\nis called gunpowder. It was what enabled us to kill surely and at long\r\ndistances. Certain things which are found in the ground, when combined\r\nin the right proportions, will make this gunpowder. What these things\r\nare, I have forgotten, or else I never knew. But I wish I did know. Then\r\nwould I make powder, and then would I certainly kill Cross-Eyes and rid\r\nthe land of superstition--\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cAfter I am man-grown I am going to give Cross-Eyes all the goats,\r\nand meat, and skins I can get, so that he\u2019ll teach me to be a doctor,\u201d\r\n Hoo-Hoo asserted. \u201cAnd when I know, I\u2019ll make everybody else sit up and\r\ntake notice. They\u2019ll get down in the dirt to me, you bet.\u201d\r\n\r\nThe old man nodded his head solemnly, and murmured:\r\n\r\n\u201cStrange it is to hear the vestiges and remnants of the complicated\r\nAryan speech falling from the lips of a filthy little skin-clad savage.\r\nAll the world is topsy-turvy. And it has been topsy-turvy ever since the\r\nplague.\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cYou won\u2019t make me sit up,\u201d Hare-Lip boasted to the would-be\r\nmedicine-man. \u201cIf I paid you for a sending of the death-stick and it\r\ndidn\u2019t work, I\u2019d bust in your head--understand, you Hoo-Hoo, you?\u201d\r\n\r\n\u201cI\u2019m going to get Granser to remember this here gunpowder stuff,\u201d Edwin\r\nsaid softly, \u201cand then I\u2019ll have you all on the run. You, Hare-Lip, will\r\ndo my fighting for me and get my meat for me, and you, Hoo-Hoo, will\r\nsend the death-stick for me and make everybody afraid. And if I catch\r\nHare-Lip trying to bust your head, Hoo-Hoo, I\u2019ll fix him with that same\r\ngunpowder. Granser ain\u2019t such a fool as you think, and I\u2019m going to\r\nlisten to him and some day I\u2019ll be boss over the whole bunch of you.\u201d\r\n\r\nThe old man shook his head sadly, and said:\r\n\r\n\u201cThe gunpowder will come. Nothing can stop it--the same old story over\r\nand over. Man will increase, and men will fight. The gunpowder will\r\nenable men to kill millions of men, and in this way only, by fire and\r\nblood, will a new civilization, in some remote day, be evolved. And of\r\nwhat profit will it be? Just as the old civilization passed, so will the\r\nnew. It may take fifty thousand years to build, but it will pass. All\r\nthings pass. Only remain cosmic force and matter, ever in flux, ever\r\nacting and reacting and realizing the eternal types--the priest, the\r\nsoldier, and the king. Out of the mouths of babes comes the wisdom of\r\nall the ages. Some will fight, some will rule, some will pray; and all\r\nthe rest will toil and suffer sore while on their bleeding carcasses\r\nis reared again, and yet again, without end, the amazing beauty and\r\nsurpassing wonder of the civilized state. It were just as well that I\r\ndestroyed those cave-stored books--whether they remain or perish, all\r\ntheir old truths will be discovered, their old lies lived and handed\r\ndown. What is the profit--\u201d\r\n\r\nHare-Lip leaped to his feet, giving a quick glance at the pasturing\r\ngoats and the afternoon sun.\r\n\r\n\u201cGee!\u201d he muttered to Edwin, \u201cThe old geezer gets more long-winded every\r\nday. Let\u2019s pull for camp.\u201d\r\n\r\nWhile the other two, aided by the dogs, assembled the goats and started\r\nthem for the trail through the forest, Edwin stayed by the old man and\r\nguided him in the same direction. When they reached the old right of\r\nway, Edwin stopped suddenly and looked back. Hare-Lip and Hoo-Hoo and\r\nthe dogs and the goats passed on. Edwin was looking at a small herd of\r\nwild horses which had come down on the hard sand. There were at least\r\ntwenty of them, young colts and yearlings and mares, led by a beautiful\r\nstallion which stood in the foam at the edge of the surf, with arched\r\nneck and bright wild eyes, sniffing the salt air from off the sea.\r\n\r\n\u201cWhat is it?\u201d Granser queried.\r\n\r\n\u201cHorses,\u201d was the answer. \u201cFirst time I ever seen \u2018em on the beach. It\u2019s\r\nthe mountain lions getting thicker and thicker and driving \u2018em down.\u201d\r\n\r\nThe low sun shot red shafts of light, fan-shaped, up from a\r\ncloud-tumbled horizon. And close at hand, in the white waste of\r\nshore-lashed waters, the sea-lions, bellowing their old primeval chant,\r\nhauled up out of the sea on the black rocks and fought and loved.\r\n\r\n\u201cCome on, Granser,\u201d Edwin prompted. And old man and boy, skin-clad and\r\nbarbaric, turned and went along the right of way into the forest in the\r\nwake of the goats.\r\n\r\nTHE END\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nEnd of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Scarlet Plague, by Jack London\r\n\r\n*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SCARLET PLAGUE ***\r\n\r\n***** This file should be named 21970-0.txt or 21970-0.zip *****\r\nThis and all associated files of various formats will be found in:\r\n        http://www.gutenberg.org/2/1/9/7/21970/\r\n\r\nProduced by David Widger\r\n\r\nUpdated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions\r\nwill be renamed.\r\n\r\nCreating the works from public domain print editions means that no\r\none owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation\r\n(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without\r\npermission and without paying copyright royalties.  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    {
        "id": 4,
        "title": "The Son Of The Wolf",
        "author": "Jack London",
        "body": "The White Silence\r\n\r\n'Carmen won't last more than a couple of days.' Mason spat out a chunk\r\nof ice and surveyed the poor animal ruefully, then put her foot in his\r\nmouth and proceeded to bite out the ice which clustered cruelly between\r\nthe toes.\r\n\r\n'I never saw a dog with a highfalutin' name that ever was worth a rap,'\r\nhe said, as he concluded his task and shoved her aside. 'They just fade\r\naway and die under the responsibility. Did ye ever see one go wrong\r\nwith a sensible name like Cassiar, Siwash, or Husky? No, sir! Take a\r\nlook at Shookum here, he's--' Snap! The lean brute flashed up, the\r\nwhite teeth just missing Mason's throat.\r\n\r\n'Ye will, will ye?' A shrewd clout behind the ear with the butt of the\r\ndog whip stretched the animal in the snow, quivering softly, a yellow\r\nslaver dripping from its fangs.\r\n\r\n'As I was saying, just look at Shookum here--he's got the spirit. Bet\r\nye he eats Carmen before the week's out.' 'I'll bank another\r\nproposition against that,' replied Malemute Kid, reversing the frozen\r\nbread placed before the fire to thaw. 'We'll eat Shookum before the\r\ntrip is over. What d'ye say, Ruth?' The Indian woman settled the coffee\r\nwith a piece of ice, glanced from Malemute Kid to her husband, then at\r\nthe dogs, but vouchsafed no reply. It was such a palpable truism that\r\nnone was necessary. Two hundred miles of unbroken trail in prospect,\r\nwith a scant six days' grub for themselves and none for the dogs, could\r\nadmit no other alternative. The two men and the woman grouped about the\r\nfire and began their meager meal. The dogs lay in their harnesses for\r\nit was a midday halt, and watched each mouthful enviously.\r\n\r\n'No more lunches after today,' said Malemute Kid. 'And we've got to\r\nkeep a close eye on the dogs--they're getting vicious. They'd just as\r\nsoon pull a fellow down as not, if they get a chance.' 'And I was\r\npresident of an Epworth once, and taught in the Sunday school.' Having\r\nirrelevantly delivered himself of this, Mason fell into a dreamy\r\ncontemplation of his steaming moccasins, but was aroused by Ruth\r\nfilling his cup.\r\n\r\n'Thank God, we've got slathers of tea! I've seen it growing, down in\r\nTennessee. What wouldn't I give for a hot corn pone just now! Never\r\nmind, Ruth; you won't starve much longer, nor wear moccasins either.'\r\nThe woman threw off her gloom at this, and in her eyes welled up a\r\ngreat love for her white lord--the first white man she had ever\r\nseen--the first man whom she had known to treat a woman as something\r\nbetter than a mere animal or beast of burden.\r\n\r\n'Yes, Ruth,' continued her husband, having recourse to the macaronic\r\njargon in which it was alone possible for them to understand each\r\nother; 'wait till we clean up and pull for the Outside. We'll take the\r\nWhite Man's canoe and go to the Salt Water. Yes, bad water, rough\r\nwater--great mountains dance up and down all the time. And so big, so\r\nfar, so far away--you travel ten sleep, twenty sleep, forty sleep'--he\r\ngraphically enumerated the days on his fingers--'all the time water,\r\nbad water. Then you come to great village, plenty people, just the same\r\nmosquitoes next summer. Wigwams oh, so high--ten, twenty pines.\r\n\r\n'Hi-yu skookum!' He paused impotently, cast an appealing glance at\r\nMalemute Kid, then laboriously placed the twenty pines, end on end, by\r\nsign language. Malemute Kid smiled with cheery cynicism; but Ruth's\r\neyes were wide with wonder, and with pleasure; for she half believed he\r\nwas joking, and such condescension pleased her poor woman's heart.\r\n\r\n'And then you step into a--a box, and pouf! up you go.' He tossed his\r\nempty cup in the air by way of illustration and, as he deftly caught\r\nit, cried: 'And biff! down you come. Oh, great medicine men! You go\r\nFort Yukon. I go Arctic City--twenty-five sleep--big string, all the\r\ntime--I catch him string--I say, \"Hello, Ruth! How are ye?\"--and you\r\nsay, \"Is that my good husband?\"--and I say, \"Yes\"--and you say, \"No can\r\nbake good bread, no more soda\"--then I say, \"Look in cache, under\r\nflour; good-by.\" You look and catch plenty soda. All the time you Fort\r\nYukon, me Arctic City. Hi-yu medicine man!' Ruth smiled so ingenuously\r\nat the fairy story that both men burst into laughter. A row among the\r\ndogs cut short the wonders of the Outside, and by the time the snarling\r\ncombatants were separated, she had lashed the sleds and all was ready\r\nfor the trail.--'Mush! Baldy! Hi! Mush on!' Mason worked his whip\r\nsmartly and, as the dogs whined low in the traces, broke out the sled\r\nwith the gee pole. Ruth followed with the second team, leaving Malemute\r\nKid, who had helped her start, to bring up the rear. Strong man, brute\r\nthat he was, capable of felling an ox at a blow, he could not bear to\r\nbeat the poor animals, but humored them as a dog driver rarely\r\ndoes--nay, almost wept with them in their misery.\r\n\r\n'Come, mush on there, you poor sore-footed brutes!' he murmured, after\r\nseveral ineffectual attempts to start the load. But his patience was at\r\nlast rewarded, and though whimpering with pain, they hastened to join\r\ntheir fellows.\r\n\r\nNo more conversation; the toil of the trail will not permit such\r\nextravagance.\r\n\r\nAnd of all deadening labors, that of the Northland trail is the worst.\r\nHappy is the man who can weather a day's travel at the price of\r\nsilence, and that on a beaten track.  And of all heartbreaking labors,\r\nthat of breaking trail is the worst. At every step the great webbed\r\nshoe sinks till the snow is level with the knee. Then up, straight up,\r\nthe deviation of a fraction of an inch being a certain precursor of\r\ndisaster, the snowshoe must be lifted till the surface is cleared; then\r\nforward, down, and the other foot is raised perpendicularly for the\r\nmatter of half a yard. He who tries this for the first time, if haply\r\nhe avoids bringing his shoes in dangerous propinquity and measures not\r\nhis length on the treacherous footing, will give up exhausted at the\r\nend of a hundred yards; he who can keep out of the way of the dogs for\r\na whole day may well crawl into his sleeping bag with a clear\r\nconscience and a pride which passeth all understanding; and he who\r\ntravels twenty sleeps on the Long Trail is a man whom the gods may envy.\r\n\r\nThe afternoon wore on, and with the awe, born of the White Silence, the\r\nvoiceless travelers bent to their work. Nature has many tricks\r\nwherewith she convinces man of his finity--the ceaseless flow of the\r\ntides, the fury of the storm, the shock of the earthquake, the long\r\nroll of heaven's artillery--but the most tremendous, the most\r\nstupefying of all, is the passive phase of the White Silence. All\r\nmovement ceases, the sky clears, the heavens are as brass; the\r\nslightest whisper seems sacrilege, and man becomes timid, affrighted at\r\nthe sound of his own voice. Sole speck of life journeying across the\r\nghostly wastes of a dead world, he trembles at his audacity, realizes\r\nthat his is a maggot's life, nothing more.\r\n\r\nStrange thoughts arise unsummoned, and the mystery of all things\r\nstrives for utterance.\r\n\r\nAnd the fear of death, of God, of the universe, comes over him--the\r\nhope of the Resurrection and the Life, the yearning for immortality,\r\nthe vain striving of the imprisoned essence--it is then, if ever, man\r\nwalks alone with God.\r\n\r\nSo wore the day away. The river took a great bend, and Mason headed his\r\nteam for the cutoff across the narrow neck of land. But the dogs balked\r\nat the high bank. Again and again, though Ruth and Malemute Kid were\r\nshoving on the sled, they slipped back. Then came the concerted effort.\r\nThe miserable creatures, weak from hunger, exerted their last strength.\r\nUp--up--the sled poised on the top of the bank; but the leader swung\r\nthe string of dogs behind him to the right, fouling Mason's snowshoes.\r\nThe result was grievous.\r\n\r\nMason was whipped off his feet; one of the dogs fell in the traces; and\r\nthe sled toppled back, dragging everything to the bottom again.\r\n\r\nSlash! the whip fell among the dogs savagely, especially upon the one\r\nwhich had fallen.\r\n\r\n'Don't,--Mason,' entreated Malemute Kid; 'the poor devil's on its last\r\nlegs.  Wait and we'll put my team on.' Mason deliberately withheld the\r\nwhip till the last word had fallen, then out flashed the long lash,\r\ncompletely curling about the offending creature's body.\r\n\r\nCarmen--for it was Carmen--cowered in the snow, cried piteously, then\r\nrolled over on her side.\r\n\r\nIt was a tragic moment, a pitiful incident of the trail--a dying dog,\r\ntwo comrades in anger.\r\n\r\nRuth glanced solicitously from man to man. But Malemute Kid restrained\r\nhimself, though there was a world of reproach in his eyes, and, bending\r\nover the dog, cut the traces. No word was spoken. The teams were\r\ndoublespanned and the difficulty overcome; the sleds were under way\r\nagain, the dying dog dragging herself along in the rear. As long as an\r\nanimal can travel, it is not shot, and this last chance is accorded\r\nit--the crawling into camp, if it can, in the hope of a moose being\r\nkilled.\r\n\r\nAlready penitent for his angry action, but too stubborn to make amends,\r\nMason toiled on at the head of the cavalcade, little dreaming that\r\ndanger hovered in the air. The timber clustered thick in the sheltered\r\nbottom, and through this they threaded their way. Fifty feet or more\r\nfrom the trail towered a lofty pine. For generations it had stood\r\nthere, and for generations destiny had had this one end in\r\nview--perhaps the same had been decreed of Mason.\r\n\r\nHe stooped to fasten the loosened thong of his moccasin. The sleds came\r\nto a halt, and the dogs lay down in the snow without a whimper. The\r\nstillness was weird; not a breath rustled the frost-encrusted forest;\r\nthe cold and silence of outer space had chilled the heart and smote the\r\ntrembling lips of nature. A sigh pulsed through the air--they did not\r\nseem to actually hear it, but rather felt it, like the premonition of\r\nmovement in a motionless void. Then the great tree, burdened with its\r\nweight of years and snow, played its last part in the tragedy of life.\r\nHe heard the warning crash and attempted to spring up but, almost\r\nerect, caught the blow squarely on the shoulder.\r\n\r\nThe sudden danger, the quick death--how often had Malemute Kid faced\r\nit! The pine needles were still quivering as he gave his commands and\r\nsprang into action. Nor did the Indian girl faint or raise her voice in\r\nidle wailing, as might many of her white sisters. At his order, she\r\nthrew her weight on the end of a quickly extemporized handspike, easing\r\nthe pressure and listening to her husband's groans, while Malemute Kid\r\nattacked the tree with his ax. The steel rang merrily as it bit into\r\nthe frozen trunk, each stroke being accompanied by a forced, audible\r\nrespiration, the 'Huh!' 'Huh!' of the woodsman.\r\n\r\nAt last the Kid laid the pitiable thing that was once a man in the\r\nsnow. But worse than his comrade's pain was the dumb anguish in the\r\nwoman's face, the blended look of hopeful, hopeless query. Little was\r\nsaid; those of the Northland are early taught the futility of words and\r\nthe inestimable value of deeds. With the temperature at sixty-five\r\nbelow zero, a man cannot lie many minutes in the snow and live. So the\r\nsled lashings were cut, and the sufferer, rolled in furs, laid on a\r\ncouch of boughs. Before him roared a fire, built of the very wood which\r\nwrought the mishap. Behind and partially over him was stretched the\r\nprimitive fly--a piece of canvas, which caught the radiating heat and\r\nthrew it back and down upon him--a trick which men may know who study\r\nphysics at the fount.\r\n\r\nAnd men who have shared their bed with death know when the call is\r\nsounded. Mason was terribly crushed. The most cursory examination\r\nrevealed it.\r\n\r\nHis right arm, leg, and back were broken; his limbs were paralyzed from\r\nthe hips; and the likelihood of internal injuries was large. An\r\noccasional moan was his only sign of life.\r\n\r\nNo hope; nothing to be done. The pitiless night crept slowly by--Ruth's\r\nportion, the despairing stoicism of her race, and Malemute Kid adding\r\nnew lines to his face of bronze.\r\n\r\nIn fact, Mason suffered least of all, for he spent his time in eastern\r\nTennessee, in the Great Smoky Mountains, living over the scenes of his\r\nchildhood. And most pathetic was the melody of his long-forgotten\r\nSouthern vernacular, as he raved of swimming holes and coon hunts and\r\nwatermelon raids. It was as Greek to Ruth, but the Kid understood and\r\nfelt--felt as only one can feel who has been shut out for years from\r\nall that civilization means.\r\n\r\nMorning brought consciousness to the stricken man, and Malemute Kid\r\nbent closer to catch his whispers.\r\n\r\n'You remember when we foregathered on the Tanana, four years come next\r\nice run? I didn't care so much for her then. It was more like she was\r\npretty, and there was a smack of excitement about it, I think. But d'ye\r\nknow, I've come to think a heap of her. She's been a good wife to me,\r\nalways at my shoulder in the pinch. And when it comes to trading, you\r\nknow there isn't her equal. D'ye recollect the time she shot the\r\nMoosehorn Rapids to pull you and me off that rock, the bullets whipping\r\nthe water like hailstones?--and the time of the famine at\r\nNuklukyeto?--when she raced the ice run to bring the news?\r\n\r\n'Yes, she's been a good wife to me, better'n that other one. Didn't\r\nknow I'd been there?\r\n\r\n'Never told you, eh? Well, I tried it once, down in the States. That's\r\nwhy I'm here. Been raised together, too. I came away to give her a\r\nchance for divorce. She got it.\r\n\r\n'But that's got nothing to do with Ruth. I had thought of cleaning up\r\nand pulling for the Outside next year--her and I--but it's too late.\r\nDon't send her back to her people, Kid. It's beastly hard for a woman\r\nto go back. Think of it!--nearly four years on our bacon and beans and\r\nflour and dried fruit, and then to go back to her fish and caribou.\r\nIt's not good for her to have tried our ways, to come to know they're\r\nbetter'n her people's, and then return to them. Take care of her, Kid,\r\nwhy don't you--but no, you always fought shy of them--and you never\r\ntold me why you came to this country. Be kind to her, and send her back\r\nto the States as soon as you can. But fix it so she can come\r\nback--liable to get homesick, you know.\r\n\r\n'And the youngster--it's drawn us closer, Kid. I only hope it is a boy.\r\nThink of it!--flesh of my flesh, Kid. He mustn't stop in this country.\r\nAnd if it's a girl, why, she can't. Sell my furs; they'll fetch at\r\nleast five thousand, and I've got as much more with the company. And\r\nhandle my interests with yours. I think that bench claim will show up.\r\nSee that he gets a good schooling; and Kid, above all, don't let him\r\ncome back. This country was not made for white men.\r\n\r\n'I'm a gone man, Kid. Three or four sleeps at the best. You've got to\r\ngo on.  You must go on! Remember, it's my wife, it's my boy--O God! I\r\nhope it's a boy! You can't stay by me--and I charge you, a dying man,\r\nto pull on.'\r\n\r\n'Give me three days,' pleaded Malemute Kid. 'You may change for the\r\nbetter; something may turn up.'\r\n\r\n'No.'\r\n\r\n'Just three days.'\r\n\r\n'You must pull on.'\r\n\r\n'Two days.'\r\n\r\n'It's my wife and my boy, Kid. You would not ask it.'\r\n\r\n'One day.'\r\n\r\n'No, no! I charge--'\r\n\r\n'Only one day. We can shave it through on the grub, and I might knock\r\nover a moose.'\r\n\r\n'No--all right; one day, but not a minute more. And, Kid, don't--don't\r\nleave me to face it alone. Just a shot, one pull on the trigger. You\r\nunderstand. Think of it! Think of it! Flesh of my flesh, and I'll never\r\nlive to see him!\r\n\r\n'Send Ruth here. I want to say good-by and tell her that she must think\r\nof the boy and not wait till I'm dead. She might refuse to go with you\r\nif I didn't. Goodby, old man; good-by.\r\n\r\n'Kid! I say--a--sink a hole above the pup, next to the slide. I panned\r\nout forty cents on my shovel there.\r\n\r\n'And, Kid!' He stooped lower to catch the last faint words, the dying\r\nman's surrender of his pride. 'I'm sorry--for--you know--Carmen.'\r\nLeaving the girl crying softly over her man, Malemute Kid slipped into\r\nhis parka and snowshoes, tucked his rifle under his arm, and crept away\r\ninto the forest. He was no tyro in the stern sorrows of the Northland,\r\nbut never had he faced so stiff a problem as this. In the abstract, it\r\nwas a plain, mathematical proposition--three possible lives as against\r\none doomed one. But now he hesitated. For five years, shoulder to\r\nshoulder, on the rivers and trails, in the camps and mines, facing\r\ndeath by field and flood and famine, had they knitted the bonds of\r\ntheir comradeship. So close was the tie that he had often been\r\nconscious of a vague jealousy of Ruth, from the first time she had come\r\nbetween. And now it must be severed by his own hand.\r\n\r\nThough he prayed for a moose, just one moose, all game seemed to have\r\ndeserted the land, and nightfall found the exhausted man crawling into\r\ncamp, lighthanded, heavyhearted. An uproar from the dogs and shrill\r\ncries from Ruth hastened him.\r\n\r\nBursting into the camp, he saw the girl in the midst of the snarling\r\npack, laying about her with an ax. The dogs had broken the iron rule of\r\ntheir masters and were rushing the grub.\r\n\r\nHe joined the issue with his rifle reversed, and the hoary game of\r\nnatural selection was played out with all the ruthlessness of its\r\nprimeval environment. Rifle and ax went up and down, hit or missed with\r\nmonotonous regularity; lithe bodies flashed, with wild eyes and\r\ndripping fangs; and man and beast fought for supremacy to the bitterest\r\nconclusion. Then the beaten brutes crept to the edge of the firelight,\r\nlicking their wounds, voicing their misery to the stars.\r\n\r\nThe whole stock of dried salmon had been devoured, and perhaps five\r\npounds of flour remained to tide them over two hundred miles of\r\nwilderness. Ruth returned to her husband, while Malemute Kid cut up the\r\nwarm body of one of the dogs, the skull of which had been crushed by\r\nthe ax. Every portion was carefully put away, save the hide and offal,\r\nwhich were cast to his fellows of the moment before.\r\n\r\nMorning brought fresh trouble. The animals were turning on each other.\r\nCarmen, who still clung to her slender thread of life, was downed by\r\nthe pack. The lash fell among them unheeded. They cringed and cried\r\nunder the blows, but refused to scatter till the last wretched bit had\r\ndisappeared--bones, hide, hair, everything.\r\n\r\nMalemute Kid went about his work, listening to Mason, who was back in\r\nTennessee, delivering tangled discourses and wild exhortations to his\r\nbrethren of other days.\r\n\r\nTaking advantage of neighboring pines, he worked rapidly, and Ruth\r\nwatched him make a cache similar to those sometimes used by hunters to\r\npreserve their meat from the wolverines and dogs. One after the other,\r\nhe bent the tops of two small pines toward each other and nearly to the\r\nground, making them fast with thongs of moosehide. Then he beat the\r\ndogs into submission and harnessed them to two of the sleds, loading\r\nthe same with everything but the furs which enveloped Mason. These he\r\nwrapped and lashed tightly about him, fastening either end of the robes\r\nto the bent pines. A single stroke of his hunting knife would release\r\nthem and send the body high in the air.\r\n\r\nRuth had received her husband's last wishes and made no struggle. Poor\r\ngirl, she had learned the lesson of obedience well. From a child, she\r\nhad bowed, and seen all women bow, to the lords of creation, and it did\r\nnot seem in the nature of things for woman to resist. The Kid permitted\r\nher one outburst of grief, as she kissed her husband--her own people\r\nhad no such custom--then led her to the foremost sled and helped her\r\ninto her snowshoes. Blindly, instinctively, she took the gee pole and\r\nwhip, and 'mushed' the dogs out on the trail. Then he returned to\r\nMason, who had fallen into a coma, and long after she was out of sight\r\ncrouched by the fire, waiting, hoping, praying for his comrade to die.\r\n\r\nIt is not pleasant to be alone with painful thoughts in the White\r\nSilence. The silence of gloom is merciful, shrouding one as with\r\nprotection and breathing a thousand intangible sympathies; but the\r\nbright White Silence, clear and cold, under steely skies, is pitiless.\r\n\r\nAn hour passed--two hours--but the man would not die. At high noon the\r\nsun, without raising its rim above the southern horizon, threw a\r\nsuggestion of fire athwart the heavens, then quickly drew it back.\r\nMalemute Kid roused and dragged himself to his comrade's side. He cast\r\none glance about him. The White Silence seemed to sneer, and a great\r\nfear came upon him. There was a sharp report; Mason swung into his\r\naerial sepulcher, and Malemute Kid lashed the dogs into a wild gallop\r\nas he fled across the snow.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nThe Son of the Wolf\r\n\r\nMan rarely places a proper valuation upon his womankind, at least not\r\nuntil deprived of them. He has no conception of the subtle atmosphere\r\nexhaled by the sex feminine, so long as he bathes in it; but let it be\r\nwithdrawn, and an ever-growing void begins to manifest itself in his\r\nexistence, and he becomes hungry, in a vague sort of way, for a\r\nsomething so indefinite that he cannot characterize it. If his comrades\r\nhave no more experience than himself, they will shake their heads\r\ndubiously and dose him with strong physic. But the hunger will continue\r\nand become stronger; he will lose interest in the things of his\r\neveryday life and wax morbid; and one day, when the emptiness has\r\nbecome unbearable, a revelation will dawn upon him.\r\n\r\nIn the Yukon country, when this comes to pass, the man usually\r\nprovisions a poling boat, if it is summer, and if winter, harnesses his\r\ndogs, and heads for the Southland. A few months later, supposing him to\r\nbe possessed of a faith in the country, he returns with a wife to share\r\nwith him in that faith, and incidentally in his hardships. This but\r\nserves to show the innate selfishness of man. It also brings us to the\r\ntrouble of 'Scruff' Mackenzie, which occurred in the old days, before\r\nthe country was stampeded and staked by a tidal-wave of the\r\nche-cha-quas, and when the Klondike's only claim to notice was its\r\nsalmon fisheries.\r\n\r\n'Scruff' Mackenzie bore the earmarks of a frontier birth and a frontier\r\nlife.\r\n\r\nHis face was stamped with twenty-five years of incessant struggle with\r\nNature in her wildest moods,--the last two, the wildest and hardest of\r\nall, having been spent in groping for the gold which lies in the shadow\r\nof the Arctic Circle. When the yearning sickness came upon him, he was\r\nnot surprised, for he was a practical man and had seen other men thus\r\nstricken. But he showed no sign of his malady, save that he worked\r\nharder. All summer he fought mosquitoes and washed the sure-thing bars\r\nof the Stuart River for a double grubstake. Then he floated a raft of\r\nhouselogs down the Yukon to Forty Mile, and put together as comfortable\r\na cabin as any the camp could boast of. In fact, it showed such cozy\r\npromise that many men elected to be his partner and to come and live\r\nwith him. But he crushed their aspirations with rough speech, peculiar\r\nfor its strength and brevity, and bought a double supply of grub from\r\nthe trading-post.\r\n\r\nAs has been noted, 'Scruff' Mackenzie was a practical man. If he wanted\r\na thing he usually got it, but in doing so, went no farther out of his\r\nway than was necessary. Though a son of toil and hardship, he was\r\naverse to a journey of six hundred miles on the ice, a second of two\r\nthousand miles on the ocean, and still a third thousand miles or so to\r\nhis last stamping-grounds,--all in the mere quest of a wife. Life was\r\ntoo short. So he rounded up his dogs, lashed a curious freight to his\r\nsled, and faced across the divide whose westward slopes were drained by\r\nthe head-reaches of the Tanana.\r\n\r\nHe was a sturdy traveler, and his wolf-dogs could work harder and\r\ntravel farther on less grub than any other team in the Yukon. Three\r\nweeks later he strode into a hunting-camp of the Upper Tanana Sticks.\r\nThey marveled at his temerity; for they had a bad name and had been\r\nknown to kill white men for as trifling a thing as a sharp ax or a\r\nbroken rifle.\r\n\r\nBut he went among them single-handed, his bearing being a delicious\r\ncomposite of humility, familiarity, sang-froid, and insolence. It\r\nrequired a deft hand and deep knowledge of the barbaric mind\r\neffectually to handle such diverse weapons; but he was a past-master in\r\nthe art, knowing when to conciliate and when to threaten with Jove-like\r\nwrath.\r\n\r\nHe first made obeisance to the Chief Thling-Tinneh, presenting him with\r\na couple of pounds of black tea and tobacco, and thereby winning his\r\nmost cordial regard. Then he mingled with the men and maidens, and that\r\nnight gave a potlach.\r\n\r\nThe snow was beaten down in the form of an oblong, perhaps a hundred\r\nfeet in length and quarter as many across. Down the center a long fire\r\nwas built, while either side was carpeted with spruce boughs. The\r\nlodges were forsaken, and the fivescore or so members of the tribe gave\r\ntongue to their folk-chants in honor of their guest.\r\n\r\n'Scruff' Mackenzie's two years had taught him the not many hundred\r\nwords of their vocabulary, and he had likewise conquered their deep\r\ngutturals, their Japanese idioms, constructions, and honorific and\r\nagglutinative particles. So he made oration after their manner,\r\nsatisfying their instinctive poetry-love with crude flights of\r\neloquence and metaphorical contortions. After Thling-Tinneh and the\r\nShaman had responded in kind, he made trifling presents to the menfolk,\r\njoined in their singing, and proved an expert in their fifty-two-stick\r\ngambling game.\r\n\r\nAnd they smoked his tobacco and were pleased. But among the younger men\r\nthere was a defiant attitude, a spirit of braggadocio, easily\r\nunderstood by the raw insinuations of the toothless squaws and the\r\ngiggling of the maidens. They had known few white men, 'Sons of the\r\nWolf,' but from those few they had learned strange lessons.\r\n\r\nNor had 'Scruff' Mackenzie, for all his seeming carelessness, failed to\r\nnote these phenomena. In truth, rolled in his sleeping-furs, he thought\r\nit all over, thought seriously, and emptied many pipes in mapping out a\r\ncampaign. One maiden only had caught his fancy,--none other than\r\nZarinska, daughter to the chief. In features, form, and poise,\r\nanswering more nearly to the white man's type of beauty, she was almost\r\nan anomaly among her tribal sisters. He would possess her, make her his\r\nwife, and name her--ah, he would name her Gertrude! Having thus\r\ndecided, he rolled over on his side and dropped off to sleep, a true\r\nson of his all-conquering race, a Samson among the Philistines.\r\n\r\nIt was slow work and a stiff game; but 'Scruff' Mackenzie maneuvered\r\ncunningly, with an unconcern which served to puzzle the Sticks. He took\r\ngreat care to impress the men that he was a sure shot and a mighty\r\nhunter, and the camp rang with his plaudits when he brought down a\r\nmoose at six hundred yards. Of a night he visited in Chief\r\nThling-Tinneh's lodge of moose and cariboo skins, talking big and\r\ndispensing tobacco with a lavish hand. Nor did he fail to likewise\r\nhonor the Shaman; for he realized the medicine-man's influence with his\r\npeople, and was anxious to make of him an ally. But that worthy was\r\nhigh and mighty, refused to be propitiated, and was unerringly marked\r\ndown as a prospective enemy.\r\n\r\nThough no opening presented for an interview with Zarinska, Mackenzie\r\nstole many a glance to her, giving fair warning of his intent. And well\r\nshe knew, yet coquettishly surrounded herself with a ring of women\r\nwhenever the men were away and he had a chance. But he was in no hurry;\r\nbesides, he knew she could not help but think of him, and a few days of\r\nsuch thought would only better his suit.\r\n\r\nAt last, one night, when he deemed the time to be ripe, he abruptly\r\nleft the chief's smoky dwelling and hastened to a neighboring lodge. As\r\nusual, she sat with squaws and maidens about her, all engaged in sewing\r\nmoccasins and beadwork. They laughed at his entrance, and badinage,\r\nwhich linked Zarinska to him, ran high. But one after the other they\r\nwere unceremoniously bundled into the outer snow, whence they hurried\r\nto spread the tale through all the camp.\r\n\r\nHis cause was well pleaded, in her tongue, for she did not know his,\r\nand at the end of two hours he rose to go.\r\n\r\n'So Zarinska will come to the White Man's lodge? Good! I go now to have\r\ntalk with thy father, for he may not be so minded. And I will give him\r\nmany tokens; but he must not ask too much. If he say no? Good! Zarinska\r\nshall yet come to the White Man's lodge.'\r\n\r\nHe had already lifted the skin flap to depart, when a low exclamation\r\nbrought him back to the girl's side. She brought herself to her knees\r\non the bearskin mat, her face aglow with true Eve-light, and shyly\r\nunbuckled his heavy belt. He looked down, perplexed, suspicious, his\r\nears alert for the slightest sound without.\r\n\r\nBut her next move disarmed his doubt, and he smiled with pleasure. She\r\ntook from her sewing bag a moosehide sheath, brave with bright\r\nbeadwork, fantastically designed. She drew his great hunting-knife,\r\ngazed reverently along the keen edge, half tempted to try it with her\r\nthumb, and shot it into place in its new home. Then she slipped the\r\nsheath along the belt to its customary resting-place, just above the\r\nhip.  For all the world, it was like a scene of olden time,--a lady and\r\nher knight.\r\n\r\nMackenzie drew her up full height and swept her red lips with his\r\nmoustache, the, to her, foreign caress of the Wolf. It was a meeting of\r\nthe stone age and the steel; but she was none the less a woman, as her\r\ncrimson cheeks and the luminous softness of her eyes attested.\r\n\r\nThere was a thrill of excitement in the air as 'Scruff' Mackenzie, a\r\nbulky bundle under his arm, threw open the flap of Thling-Tinneh's\r\ntent. Children were running about in the open, dragging dry wood to the\r\nscene of the potlach, a babble of women's voices was growing in\r\nintensity, the young men were consulting in sullen groups, while from\r\nthe Shaman's lodge rose the eerie sounds of an incantation.\r\n\r\nThe chief was alone with his blear-eyed wife, but a glance sufficed to\r\ntell Mackenzie that the news was already told. So he plunged at once\r\ninto the business, shifting the beaded sheath prominently to the fore\r\nas advertisement of the betrothal.\r\n\r\n'O Thling-Tinneh, mighty chief of the Sticks And the land of the\r\nTanana, ruler of the salmon and the bear, the moose and the cariboo!\r\nThe White Man is before thee with a great purpose. Many moons has his\r\nlodge been empty, and he is lonely. And his heart has eaten itself in\r\nsilence, and grown hungry for a woman to sit beside him in his lodge,\r\nto meet him from the hunt with warm fire and good food. He has heard\r\nstrange things, the patter of baby moccasins and the sound of\r\nchildren's voices. And one night a vision came upon him, and he beheld\r\nthe Raven, who is thy father, the great Raven, who is the father of all\r\nthe Sticks. And the Raven spake to the lonely White Man, saying: \"Bind\r\nthou thy moccasins upon thee, and gird thy snow-shoes on, and lash thy\r\nsled with food for many sleeps and fine tokens for the Chief\r\nThling-Tinneh. For thou shalt turn thy face to where the mid-spring sun\r\nis wont to sink below the land and journey to this great chief's\r\nhunting-grounds. There thou shalt make big presents, and Thling-Tinneh,\r\nwho is my son, shall become to thee as a father. In his lodge there is\r\na maiden into whom I breathed the breath of life for thee. This maiden\r\nshalt thou take to wife.\" 'O Chief, thus spake the great Raven; thus do\r\nI lay many presents at thy feet; thus am I come to take thy daughter!'\r\nThe old man drew his furs about him with crude consciousness of\r\nroyalty, but delayed reply while a youngster crept in, delivered a\r\nquick message to appear before the council, and was gone.\r\n\r\n'O White Man, whom we have named Moose-Killer, also known as the Wolf,\r\nand the Son of the Wolf! We know thou comest of a mighty race; we are\r\nproud to have thee our potlach-guest; but the king-salmon does not mate\r\nwith the dogsalmon, nor the Raven with the Wolf.' 'Not so!' cried\r\nMackenzie. 'The daughters of the Raven have I met in the camps of the\r\nWolf,--the squaw of Mortimer, the squaw of Tregidgo, the squaw of\r\nBarnaby, who came two ice-runs back, and I have heard of other squaws,\r\nthough my eyes beheld them not.' 'Son, your words are true; but it were\r\nevil mating, like the water with the sand, like the snow-flake with the\r\nsun. But met you one Mason and his squaw' No?\r\n\r\nHe came ten ice-runs ago,--the first of all the Wolves. And with him\r\nthere was a mighty man, straight as a willow-shoot, and tall; strong as\r\nthe bald-faced grizzly, with a heart like the full summer moon; his-'\r\n'Oh!' interrupted Mackenzie, recognizing the well-known Northland\r\nfigure, 'Malemute Kid!' 'The same,--a mighty man. But saw you aught of\r\nthe squaw? She was full sister to Zarinska.' 'Nay, Chief; but I have\r\nheard. Mason--far, far to the north, a spruce-tree, heavy with years,\r\ncrushed out his life beneath. But his love was great, and he had much\r\ngold. With this, and her boy, she journeyed countless sleeps toward the\r\nwinter's noonday sun, and there she yet lives,--no biting frost, no\r\nsnow, no summer's midnight sun, no winter's noonday night.'\r\n\r\nA second messenger interrupted with imperative summons from the council.\r\n\r\nAs Mackenzie threw him into the snow, he caught a glimpse of the\r\nswaying forms before the council-fire, heard the deep basses of the men\r\nin rhythmic chant, and knew the Shaman was fanning the anger of his\r\npeople. Time pressed. He turned upon the chief.\r\n\r\n'Come! I wish thy child. And now, see! Here are tobacco, tea, many cups\r\nof sugar, warm blankets, handkerchiefs, both good and large; and here,\r\na true rifle, with many bullets and much powder.' 'Nay,' replied the\r\nold man, struggling against the great wealth spread before him. 'Even\r\nnow are my people come together. They will not have this marriage.'\r\n\r\n'But thou art chief.' 'Yet do my young men rage because the Wolves have\r\ntaken their maidens so that they may not marry.' 'Listen, O\r\nThling-Tinneh! Ere the night has passed into the day, the Wolf shall\r\nface his dogs to the Mountains of the East and fare forth to the\r\nCountry of the Yukon. And Zarinska shall break trail for his dogs.'\r\n'And ere the night has gained its middle, my young men may fling to the\r\ndogs the flesh of the Wolf, and his bones be scattered in the snow till\r\nthe springtime lay them bare.' It was threat and counter-threat.\r\nMackenzie's bronzed face flushed darkly. He raised his voice. The old\r\nsquaw, who till now had sat an impassive spectator, made to creep by\r\nhim for the door.\r\n\r\nThe song of the men broke suddenly and there was a hubbub of many\r\nvoices as he whirled the old woman roughly to her couch of skins.\r\n\r\n'Again I cry--listen, O Thling-Tinneh! The Wolf dies with teeth\r\nfast-locked, and with him there shall sleep ten of thy strongest\r\nmen,--men who are needed, for the hunting is not begun, and the fishing\r\nis not many moons away. And again, of what profit should I die? I know\r\nthe custom of thy people; thy share of my wealth shall be very small.\r\nGrant me thy child, and it shall all be thine. And yet again, my\r\nbrothers will come, and they are many, and their maws are never filled;\r\nand the daughters of the Raven shall bear children in the lodges of the\r\nWolf. My people are greater than thy people. It is destiny. Grant, and\r\nall this wealth is thine.' Moccasins were crunching the snow without.\r\nMackenzie threw his rifle to cock, and loosened the twin Colts in his\r\nbelt.\r\n\r\n'Grant, O Chief!' 'And yet will my people say no.' 'Grant, and the\r\nwealth is thine. Then shall I deal with thy people after.' 'The Wolf\r\nwill have it so. I will take his tokens,--but I would warn him.'\r\nMackenzie passed over the goods, taking care to clog the rifle's\r\nejector, and capping the bargain with a kaleidoscopic silk kerchief.\r\nThe Shaman and half a dozen young braves entered, but he shouldered\r\nboldly among them and passed out.\r\n\r\n'Pack!' was his laconic greeting to Zarinska as he passed her lodge and\r\nhurried to harness his dogs. A few minutes later he swept into the\r\ncouncil at the head of the team, the woman by his side. He took his\r\nplace at the upper end of the oblong, by the side of the chief. To his\r\nleft, a step to the rear, he stationed Zarinska, her proper place.\r\nBesides, the time was ripe for mischief, and there was need to guard\r\nhis back.\r\n\r\nOn either side, the men crouched to the fire, their voices lifted in a\r\nfolk-chant out of the forgotten past. Full of strange, halting cadences\r\nand haunting recurrences, it was not beautiful. 'Fearful' may\r\ninadequately express it. At the lower end, under the eye of the Shaman,\r\ndanced half a score of women. Stern were his reproofs of those who did\r\nnot wholly abandon themselves to the ecstasy of the rite. Half hidden\r\nin their heavy masses of raven hair, all dishevelled and falling to\r\ntheir waists, they slowly swayed to and fro, their forms rippling to an\r\never-changing rhythm.\r\n\r\nIt was a weird scene; an anachronism. To the south, the nineteenth\r\ncentury was reeling off the few years of its last decade; here\r\nflourished man primeval, a shade removed from the prehistoric\r\ncave-dweller, forgotten fragment of the Elder World. The tawny\r\nwolf-dogs sat between their skin-clad masters or fought for room, the\r\nfirelight cast backward from their red eyes and dripping fangs. The\r\nwoods, in ghostly shroud, slept on unheeding.\r\n\r\nThe White Silence, for the moment driven to the rimming forest, seemed\r\never crushing inward; the stars danced with great leaps, as is their\r\nwont in the time of the Great Cold; while the Spirits of the Pole\r\ntrailed their robes of glory athwart the heavens.\r\n\r\n'Scruff' Mackenzie dimly realized the wild grandeur of the setting as\r\nhis eyes ranged down the fur-fringed sides in quest of missing faces.\r\nThey rested for a moment on a newborn babe, suckling at its mother's\r\nnaked breast. It was forty below,--seven and odd degrees of frost. He\r\nthought of the tender women of his own race and smiled grimly. Yet from\r\nthe loins of some such tender woman had he sprung with a kingly\r\ninheritance,--an inheritance which gave to him and his dominance over\r\nthe land and sea, over the animals and the peoples of all the zones.\r\nSingle-handed against fivescore, girt by the Arctic winter, far from\r\nhis own, he felt the prompting of his heritage, the desire to possess,\r\nthe wild danger--love, the thrill of battle, the power to conquer or to\r\ndie.\r\n\r\nThe singing and the dancing ceased, and the Shaman flared up in rude\r\neloquence.\r\n\r\nThrough the sinuosities of their vast mythology, he worked cunningly\r\nupon the credulity of his people. The case was strong. Opposing the\r\ncreative principles as embodied in the Crow and the Raven, he\r\nstigmatized Mackenzie as the Wolf, the fighting and the destructive\r\nprinciple. Not only was the combat of these forces spiritual, but men\r\nfought, each to his totem. They were the children of Jelchs, the Raven,\r\nthe Promethean fire-bringer; Mackenzie was the child of the Wolf, or in\r\nother words, the Devil. For them to bring a truce to this perpetual\r\nwarfare, to marry their daughters to the arch-enemy, were treason and\r\nblasphemy of the highest order. No phrase was harsh nor figure vile\r\nenough in branding Mackenzie as a sneaking interloper and emissary of\r\nSatan. There was a subdued, savage roar in the deep chests of his\r\nlisteners as he took the swing of his peroration.\r\n\r\n'Aye, my brothers, Jelchs is all-powerful! Did he not bring\r\nheaven-borne fire that we might be warm? Did he not draw the sun, moon,\r\nand stars, from their holes that we might see? Did he not teach us that\r\nwe might fight the Spirits of Famine and of Frost? But now Jelchs is\r\nangry with his children, and they are grown to a handful, and he will\r\nnot help.\r\n\r\n'For they have forgotten him, and done evil things, and trod bad\r\ntrails, and taken his enemies into their lodges to sit by their fires.\r\nAnd the Raven is sorrowful at the wickedness of his children; but when\r\nthey shall rise up and show they have come back, he will come out of\r\nthe darkness to aid them. O brothers! the Fire-Bringer has whispered\r\nmessages to thy Shaman; the same shall ye hear. Let the young men take\r\nthe young women to their lodges; let them fly at the throat of the\r\nWolf; let them be undying in their enmity! Then shall their women\r\nbecome fruitful and they shall multiply into a mighty people! And the\r\nRaven shall lead great tribes of their fathers and their fathers'\r\nfathers from out of the North; and they shall beat back the Wolves till\r\nthey are as last year's campfires; and they shall again come to rule\r\nover all the land! 'Tis the message of Jelchs, the Raven.' This\r\nforeshadowing of the Messiah's coming brought a hoarse howl from the\r\nSticks as they leaped to their feet. Mackenzie slipped the thumbs of\r\nhis mittens and waited. There was a clamor for the 'Fox,' not to be\r\nstilled till one of the young men stepped forward to speak.\r\n\r\n'Brothers! The Shaman has spoken wisely. The Wolves have taken our\r\nwomen, and our men are childless. We are grown to a handful. The Wolves\r\nhave taken our warm furs and given for them evil spirits which dwell in\r\nbottles, and clothes which come not from the beaver or the lynx, but\r\nare made from the grass.\r\n\r\nAnd they are not warm, and our men die of strange sicknesses. I, the\r\nFox, have taken no woman to wife; and why? Twice have the maidens which\r\npleased me gone to the camps of the Wolf. Even now have I laid by skins\r\nof the beaver, of the moose, of the cariboo, that I might win favor in\r\nthe eyes of Thling-Tinneh, that I might marry Zarinska, his daughter.\r\nEven now are her snow-shoes bound to her feet, ready to break trail for\r\nthe dogs of the Wolf. Nor do I speak for myself alone.\r\n\r\nAs I have done, so has the Bear. He, too, had fain been the father of\r\nher children, and many skins has he cured thereto. I speak for all the\r\nyoung men who know not wives. The Wolves are ever hungry. Always do\r\nthey take the choice meat at the killing. To the Ravens are left the\r\nleavings.\r\n\r\n'There is Gugkla,' he cried, brutally pointing out one of the women,\r\nwho was a cripple.\r\n\r\n'Her legs are bent like the ribs of a birch canoe. She cannot gather\r\nwood nor carry the meat of the hunters. Did the Wolves choose her?'\r\n'Ai! ai!' vociferated his tribesmen.\r\n\r\n'There is Moyri, whose eyes are crossed by the Evil Spirit. Even the\r\nbabes are affrighted when they gaze upon her, and it is said the\r\nbald-face gives her the trail.\r\n\r\n'Was she chosen?' Again the cruel applause rang out.\r\n\r\n'And there sits Pischet. She does not hearken to my words. Never has\r\nshe heard the cry of the chit-chat, the voice of her husband, the\r\nbabble of her child.\r\n\r\n'She lives in the White Silence. Cared the Wolves aught for her? No!\r\nTheirs is the choice of the kill; ours is the leavings.\r\n\r\n'Brothers, it shall not be! No more shall the Wolves slink among our\r\ncampfires. The time is come.' A great streamer of fire, the aurora\r\nborealis, purple, green, and yellow, shot across the zenith, bridging\r\nhorizon to horizon. With head thrown back and arms extended, he swayed\r\nto his climax.\r\n\r\n'Behold! The spirits of our fathers have arisen and great deeds are\r\nafoot this night!' He stepped back, and another young man somewhat\r\ndiffidently came forward, pushed on by his comrades. He towered a full\r\nhead above them, his broad chest defiantly bared to the frost. He swung\r\ntentatively from one foot to the other.\r\n\r\nWords halted upon his tongue, and he was ill at ease. His face was\r\nhorrible to look upon, for it had at one time been half torn away by\r\nsome terrific blow. At last he struck his breast with his clenched\r\nfist, drawing sound as from a drum, and his voice rumbled forth as does\r\nthe surf from an ocean cavern.\r\n\r\n'I am the Bear,--the Silver-Tip and the Son of the Silver-Tip! When my\r\nvoice was yet as a girl's, I slew the lynx, the moose, and the cariboo;\r\nwhen it whistled like the wolverines from under a cache, I crossed the\r\nMountains of the South and slew three of the White Rivers; when it\r\nbecame as the roar of the Chinook, I met the bald-faced grizzly, but\r\ngave no trail.' At this he paused, his hand significantly sweeping\r\nacross his hideous scars.\r\n\r\n'I am not as the Fox. My tongue is frozen like the river. I cannot make\r\ngreat talk. My words are few. The Fox says great deeds are afoot this\r\nnight. Good! Talk flows from his tongue like the freshets of the\r\nspring, but he is chary of deeds.\r\n\r\n'This night shall I do battle with the Wolf. I shall slay him, and\r\nZarinska shall sit by my fire. The Bear has spoken.' Though pandemonium\r\nraged about him, 'Scruff' Mackenzie held his ground.\r\n\r\nAware how useless was the rifle at close quarters, he slipped both\r\nholsters to the fore, ready for action, and drew his mittens till his\r\nhands were barely shielded by the elbow gauntlets. He knew there was no\r\nhope in attack en masse, but true to his boast, was prepared to die\r\nwith teeth fast-locked. But the Bear restrained his comrades, beating\r\nback the more impetuous with his terrible fist. As the tumult began to\r\ndie away, Mackenzie shot a glance in the direction of Zarinska. It was\r\na superb picture. She was leaning forward on her snow-shoes, lips apart\r\nand nostrils quivering, like a tigress about to spring. Her great black\r\neyes were fixed upon her tribesmen, in fear and defiance. So extreme\r\nthe tension, she had forgotten to breathe. With one hand pressed\r\nspasmodically against her breast and the other as tightly gripped about\r\nthe dog-whip, she was as turned to stone. Even as he looked, relief\r\ncame to her. Her muscles loosened; with a heavy sigh she settled back,\r\ngiving him a look of more than love--of worship.\r\n\r\nThling-Tinneh was trying to speak, but his people drowned his voice.\r\nThen Mackenzie strode forward. The Fox opened his mouth to a piercing\r\nyell, but so savagely did Mackenzie whirl upon him that he shrank back,\r\nhis larynx all agurgle with suppressed sound. His discomfiture was\r\ngreeted with roars of laughter, and served to soothe his fellows to a\r\nlistening mood.\r\n\r\n'Brothers! The White Man, whom ye have chosen to call the Wolf, came\r\namong you with fair words. He was not like the Innuit; he spoke not\r\nlies. He came as a friend, as one who would be a brother. But your men\r\nhave had their say, and the time for soft words is past.\r\n\r\n'First, I will tell you that the Shaman has an evil tongue and is a\r\nfalse prophet, that the messages he spake are not those of the\r\nFire-Bringer. His ears are locked to the voice of the Raven, and out of\r\nhis own head he weaves cunning fancies, and he has made fools of you.\r\nHe has no power.\r\n\r\n'When the dogs were killed and eaten, and your stomachs were heavy with\r\nuntanned hide and strips of moccasins; when the old men died, and the\r\nold women died, and the babes at the dry dugs of the mothers died; when\r\nthe land was dark, and ye perished as do the salmon in the fall; aye,\r\nwhen the famine was upon you, did the Shaman bring reward to your\r\nhunters? did the Shaman put meat in your bellies? Again I say, the\r\nShaman is without power. Thus I spit upon his face!' Though taken aback\r\nby the sacrilege, there was no uproar. Some of the women were even\r\nfrightened, but among the men there was an uplifting, as though in\r\npreparation or anticipation of the miracle. All eyes were turned upon\r\nthe two central figures. The priest realized the crucial moment, felt\r\nhis power tottering, opened his mouth in denunciation, but fled\r\nbackward before the truculent advance, upraised fist, and flashing\r\neyes, of Mackenzie. He sneered and resumed.\r\n\r\n'Was I stricken dead? Did the lightning burn me? Did the stars fall\r\nfrom the sky and crush me? Pish! I have done with the dog. Now will I\r\ntell you of my people, who are the mightiest of all the peoples, who\r\nrule in all the lands. At first we hunt as I hunt, alone.\r\n\r\n'After that we hunt in packs; and at last, like the cariboo-run, we\r\nsweep across all the land.\r\n\r\n'Those whom we take into our lodges live; those who will not come die.\r\nZarinska is a comely maiden, full and strong, fit to become the mother\r\nof Wolves. Though I die, such shall she become; for my brothers are\r\nmany, and they will follow the scent of my dogs.\r\n\r\n'Listen to the Law of the Wolf: Whoso taketh the life of one Wolf, the\r\nforfeit shall ten of his people pay. In many lands has the price been\r\npaid; in many lands shall it yet be paid.\r\n\r\n'Now will I deal with the Fox and the Bear. It seems they have cast\r\neyes upon the maiden. So? Behold, I have bought her! Thling-Tinneh\r\nleans upon the rifle; the goods of purchase are by his fire. Yet will I\r\nbe fair to the young men. To the Fox, whose tongue is dry with many\r\nwords, will I give of tobacco five long plugs.\r\n\r\n'Thus will his mouth be wetted that he may make much noise in the\r\ncouncil. But to the Bear, of whom I am well proud, will I give of\r\nblankets two; of flour, twenty cups; of tobacco, double that of the\r\nFox; and if he fare with me over the Mountains of the East, then will I\r\ngive him a rifle, mate to Thling-Tinneh's. If not? Good! The Wolf is\r\nweary of speech. Yet once again will he say the Law: Whoso taketh the\r\nlife of one Wolf, the forfeit shall ten of his people pay.'\r\n\r\nMackenzie smiled as he stepped back to his old position, but at heart\r\nhe was full of trouble. The night was yet dark. The girl came to his\r\nside, and he listened closely as she told of the Bear's battle-tricks\r\nwith the knife.\r\n\r\nThe decision was for war. In a trice, scores of moccasins were widening\r\nthe space of beaten snow by the fire. There was much chatter about the\r\nseeming defeat of the Shaman; some averred he had but withheld his\r\npower, while others conned past events and agreed with the Wolf. The\r\nBear came to the center of the battle-ground, a long naked\r\nhunting-knife of Russian make in his hand. The Fox called attention to\r\nMackenzie's revolvers; so he stripped his belt, buckling it about\r\nZarinska, into whose hands he also entrusted his rifle. She shook her\r\nhead that she could not shoot,--small chance had a woman to handle such\r\nprecious things.\r\n\r\n'Then, if danger come by my back, cry aloud, \"My husband!\" No; thus,\r\n\"My husband!\"'\r\n\r\nHe laughed as she repeated it, pinched her cheek, and reentered the\r\ncircle. Not only in reach and stature had the Bear the advantage of\r\nhim, but his blade was longer by a good two inches. 'Scruff' Mackenzie\r\nhad looked into the eyes of men before, and he knew it was a man who\r\nstood against him; yet he quickened to the glint of light on the steel,\r\nto the dominant pulse of his race.\r\n\r\nTime and again he was forced to the edge of the fire or the deep snow,\r\nand time and again, with the foot tactics of the pugilist, he worked\r\nback to the center.  Not a voice was lifted in encouragement, while his\r\nantagonist was heartened with applause, suggestions, and warnings. But\r\nhis teeth only shut the tighter as the knives clashed together, and he\r\nthrust or eluded with a coolness born of conscious strength. At first\r\nhe felt compassion for his enemy; but this fled before the primal\r\ninstinct of life, which in turn gave way to the lust of slaughter. The\r\nten thousand years of culture fell from him, and he was a cave-dweller,\r\ndoing battle for his female.\r\n\r\nTwice he pricked the Bear, getting away unscathed; but the third time\r\ncaught, and to save himself, free hands closed on fighting hands, and\r\nthey came together.\r\n\r\nThen did he realize the tremendous strength of his opponent. His\r\nmuscles were knotted in painful lumps, and cords and tendons threatened\r\nto snap with the strain; yet nearer and nearer came the Russian steel.\r\nHe tried to break away, but only weakened himself. The fur-clad circle\r\nclosed in, certain of and anxious to see the final stroke. But with\r\nwrestler's trick, swinging partly to the side, he struck at his\r\nadversary with his head. Involuntarily the Bear leaned back, disturbing\r\nhis center of gravity. Simultaneous with this, Mackenzie tripped\r\nproperly and threw his whole weight forward, hurling him clear through\r\nthe circle into the deep snow. The Bear floundered out and came back\r\nfull tilt.\r\n\r\n'O my husband!' Zarinska's voice rang out, vibrant with danger.\r\n\r\nTo the twang of a bow-string, Mackenzie swept low to the ground, and a\r\nbonebarbed arrow passed over him into the breast of the Bear, whose\r\nmomentum carried him over his crouching foe. The next instant Mackenzie\r\nwas up and about. The bear lay motionless, but across the fire was the\r\nShaman, drawing a second arrow. Mackenzie's knife leaped short in the\r\nair. He caught the heavy blade by the point. There was a flash of light\r\nas it spanned the fire. Then the Shaman, the hilt alone appearing\r\nwithout his throat, swayed and pitched forward into the glowing embers.\r\n\r\nClick! Click!--the Fox had possessed himself of Thling-Tinneh's rifle\r\nand was vainly trying to throw a shell into place. But he dropped it at\r\nthe sound of Mackenzie's laughter.\r\n\r\n'So the Fox has not learned the way of the plaything? He is yet a woman.\r\n\r\n'Come! Bring it, that I may show thee!' The Fox hesitated.\r\n\r\n'Come, I say!' He slouched forward like a beaten cur.\r\n\r\n'Thus, and thus; so the thing is done.' A shell flew into place and the\r\ntrigger was at cock as Mackenzie brought it to shoulder.\r\n\r\n'The Fox has said great deeds were afoot this night, and he spoke true.\r\nThere have been great deeds, yet least among them were those of the\r\nFox. Is he still intent to take Zarinska to his lodge? Is he minded to\r\ntread the trail already broken by the Shaman and the Bear?\r\n\r\n'No? Good!'\r\n\r\nMackenzie turned contemptuously and drew his knife from the priest's\r\nthroat.\r\n\r\n'Are any of the young men so minded? If so, the Wolf will take them by\r\ntwo and three till none are left. No? Good! Thling-Tinneh, I now give\r\nthee this rifle a second time. If, in the days to come, thou shouldst\r\njourney to the Country of the Yukon, know thou that there shall always\r\nbe a place and much food by the fire of the Wolf. The night is now\r\npassing into the day. I go, but I may come again. And for the last\r\ntime, remember the Law of the Wolf!' He was supernatural in their sight\r\nas he rejoined Zarinska. She took her place at the head of the team,\r\nand the dogs swung into motion. A few moments later they were swallowed\r\nup by the ghostly forest. Till now Mackenzie had waited; he slipped\r\ninto his snow-shoes to follow.\r\n\r\n'Has the Wolf forgotten the five long plugs?' Mackenzie turned upon the\r\nFox angrily; then the humor of it struck him.\r\n\r\n'I will give thee one short plug.' 'As the Wolf sees fit,' meekly\r\nresponded the Fox, stretching out his hand.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nThe Men of Forty Mile\r\n\r\nWhen Big Jim Belden ventured the apparently innocuous proposition that\r\nmush-ice was 'rather pecooliar,' he little dreamed of what it would\r\nlead to.\r\n\r\nNeither did Lon McFane, when he affirmed that anchor-ice was even more\r\nso; nor did Bettles, as he instantly disagreed, declaring the very\r\nexistence of such a form to be a bugaboo.\r\n\r\n'An' ye'd be tellin' me this,' cried Lon, 'after the years ye've spint\r\nin the land! An' we atin' out the same pot this many's the day!' 'But\r\nthe thing's agin reasin,' insisted Bettles.\r\n\r\n'Look you, water's warmer than ice--' 'An' little the difference, once\r\nye break through.'\r\n\r\n'Still it's warmer, because it ain't froze. An' you say it freezes on\r\nthe bottom?' 'Only the anchor-ice, David, only the anchor-ice. An' have\r\nye niver drifted along, the water clear as glass, whin suddin, belike a\r\ncloud over the sun, the mushy-ice comes bubblin' up an' up till from\r\nbank to bank an' bind to bind it's drapin' the river like a first\r\nsnowfall?' 'Unh, hunh! more'n once when I took a doze at the\r\nsteering-oar. But it allus come out the nighest side-channel, an' not\r\nbubblin' up an' up.' 'But with niver a wink at the helm?'\r\n\r\n'No; nor you. It's agin reason. I'll leave it to any man!' Bettles\r\nappealed to the circle about the stove, but the fight was on between\r\nhimself and Lon McFane.\r\n\r\n'Reason or no reason, it's the truth I'm tellin' ye. Last fall, a year\r\ngone, 'twas Sitka Charley and meself saw the sight, droppin' down the\r\nriffle ye'll remember below Fort Reliance. An' regular fall weather it\r\nwas--the glint o' the sun on the golden larch an' the quakin' aspens;\r\nan' the glister of light on ivery ripple; an' beyand, the winter an'\r\nthe blue haze of the North comin' down hand in hand. It's well ye know\r\nthe same, with a fringe to the river an' the ice formin' thick in the\r\neddies--an' a snap an' sparkle to the air, an' ye a-feelin' it through\r\nall yer blood, a-takin' new lease of life with ivery suck of it. 'Tis\r\nthen, me boy, the world grows small an' the wandtherlust lays ye by the\r\nheels.\r\n\r\n'But it's meself as wandthers. As I was sayin', we a-paddlin', with\r\nniver a sign of ice, barrin' that by the eddies, when the Injun lifts\r\nhis paddle an' sings out, \"Lon McFane! Look ye below!\" So have I heard,\r\nbut niver thought to see! As ye know, Sitka Charley, like meself, niver\r\ndrew first breath in the land; so the sight was new. Then we drifted,\r\nwith a head over ayther side, peerin' down through the sparkly water.\r\nFor the world like the days I spint with the pearlers, watchin' the\r\ncoral banks a-growin' the same as so many gardens under the sea. There\r\nit was, the anchor-ice, clingin' an' clusterin' to ivery rock, after\r\nthe manner of the white coral.\r\n\r\n'But the best of the sight was to come. Just after clearin' the tail of\r\nthe riffle, the water turns quick the color of milk, an' the top of it\r\nin wee circles, as when the graylin' rise in the spring, or there's a\r\nsplatter of wet from the sky. 'Twas the anchor-ice comin' up. To the\r\nright, to the lift, as far as iver a man cud see, the water was covered\r\nwith the same.\r\n\r\nAn' like so much porridge it was, slickin' along the bark of the canoe,\r\nstickin' like glue to the paddles. It's many's the time I shot the\r\nself-same riffle before, and it's many's the time after, but niver a\r\nwink of the same have I seen. 'Twas the sight of a lifetime.' 'Do\r\ntell!' dryly commented Bettles. 'D'ye think I'd b'lieve such a yarn?\r\nI'd ruther say the glister of light'd gone to your eyes, and the snap\r\nof the air to your tongue.' ''Twas me own eyes that beheld it, an' if\r\nSitka Charley was here, he'd be the lad to back me.' 'But facts is\r\nfacts, an' they ain't no gettin' round 'em. It ain't in the nature of\r\nthings for the water furtherest away from the air to freeze first.'\r\n'But me own eyes-' 'Don't git het up over it,' admonished Bettles, as\r\nthe quick Celtic anger began to mount.\r\n\r\n'Then yer not after belavin' me?' 'Sence you're so blamed forehanded\r\nabout it, no; I'd b'lieve nature first, and facts.'\r\n\r\n'Is it the lie ye'd be givin' me?' threatened Lon. 'Ye'd better be\r\naskin' that Siwash wife of yours. I'll lave it to her, for the truth I\r\nspake.' Bettles flared up in sudden wrath. The Irishman had unwittingly\r\nwounded him; for his wife was the half-breed daughter of a Russian\r\nfur-trader, married to him in the Greek Mission of Nulato, a thousand\r\nmiles or so down the Yukon, thus being of much higher caste than the\r\ncommon Siwash, or native, wife. It was a mere Northland nuance, which\r\nnone but the Northland adventurer may understand.\r\n\r\n'I reckon you kin take it that way,' was his deliberate affirmation.\r\n\r\nThe next instant Lon McFane had stretched him on the floor, the circle\r\nwas broken up, and half a dozen men had stepped between.\r\n\r\nBettles came to his feet, wiping the blood from his mouth. 'It hain't\r\nnew, this takin' and payin' of blows, and don't you never think but\r\nthat this will be squared.' 'An' niver in me life did I take the lie\r\nfrom mortal man,' was the retort courteous. 'An' it's an avil day I'll\r\nnot be to hand, waitin' an' willin' to help ye lift yer debts, barrin'\r\nno manner of way.'\r\n\r\n'Still got that 38-55?' Lon nodded.\r\n\r\n'But you'd better git a more likely caliber. Mine'll rip holes through\r\nyou the size of walnuts.'\r\n\r\n'Niver fear; it's me own slugs smell their way with soft noses, an'\r\nthey'll spread like flapjacks against the coming out beyand. An'\r\nwhen'll I have the pleasure of waitin' on ye? The waterhole's a\r\nstrikin' locality.' ''Tain't bad. Jest be there in an hour, and you\r\nwon't set long on my coming.' Both men mittened and left the Post,\r\ntheir ears closed to the remonstrances of their comrades. It was such a\r\nlittle thing; yet with such men, little things, nourished by quick\r\ntempers and stubborn natures, soon blossomed into big things.\r\n\r\nBesides, the art of burning to bedrock still lay in the womb of the\r\nfuture, and the men of Forty-Mile, shut in by the long Arctic winter,\r\ngrew high-stomached with overeating and enforced idleness, and became\r\nas irritable as do the bees in the fall of the year when the hives are\r\noverstocked with honey.\r\n\r\nThere was no law in the land. The mounted police was also a thing of\r\nthe future. Each man measured an offense, and meted out the punishment\r\ninasmuch as it affected himself.\r\n\r\nRarely had combined action been necessary, and never in all the dreary\r\nhistory of the camp had the eighth article of the Decalogue been\r\nviolated.\r\n\r\nBig Jim Belden called an impromptu meeting. Scruff Mackenzie was placed\r\nas temporary chairman, and a messenger dispatched to solicit Father\r\nRoubeau's good offices. Their position was paradoxical, and they knew\r\nit. By the right of might could they interfere to prevent the duel; yet\r\nsuch action, while in direct line with their wishes, went counter to\r\ntheir opinions. While their rough-hewn, obsolete ethics recognized the\r\nindividual prerogative of wiping out blow with blow, they could not\r\nbear to think of two good comrades, such as Bettles and McFane, meeting\r\nin deadly battle. Deeming the man who would not fight on provocation a\r\ndastard, when brought to the test it seemed wrong that he should fight.\r\n\r\nBut a scurry of moccasins and loud cries, rounded off with a\r\npistol-shot, interrupted the discussion. Then the storm-doors opened\r\nand Malemute Kid entered, a smoking Colt's in his hand, and a merry\r\nlight in his eye.\r\n\r\n'I got him.' He replaced the empty shell, and added, 'Your dog,\r\nScruff.' 'Yellow Fang?'\r\n\r\nMackenzie asked.\r\n\r\n'No; the lop-eared one.' 'The devil! Nothing the matter with him.'\r\n'Come out and take a look.' 'That's all right after all. Buess he's got\r\n'em, too. Yellow Fang came back this morning and took a chunk out of\r\nhim, and came near to making a widower of me. Made a rush for Zarinska,\r\nbut she whisked her skirts in his face and escaped with the loss of the\r\nsame and a good roll in the snow. Then he took to the woods again. Hope\r\nhe don't come back. Lost any yourself?' 'One--the best one of the\r\npack--Shookum. Started amuck this morning, but didn't get very far. Ran\r\nfoul of Sitka Charley's team, and they scattered him all over the\r\nstreet. And now two of them are loose, and raging mad; so you see he\r\ngot his work in. The dog census will be small in the spring if we don't\r\ndo something.'\r\n\r\n'And the man census, too.' 'How's that? Who's in trouble now?' 'Oh,\r\nBettles and Lon McFane had an argument, and they'll be down by the\r\nwaterhole in a few minutes to settle it.' The incident was repeated for\r\nhis benefit, and Malemute Kid, accustomed to an obedience which his\r\nfellow men never failed to render, took charge of the affair. His\r\nquickly formulated plan was explained, and they promised to follow his\r\nlead implicitly.\r\n\r\n'So you see,' he concluded, 'we do not actually take away their\r\nprivilege of fighting; and yet I don't believe they'll fight when they\r\nsee the beauty of the scheme. Life's a game and men the gamblers.\r\nThey'll stake their whole pile on the one chance in a thousand.\r\n\r\n'Take away that one chance, and--they won't play.' He turned to the man\r\nin charge of the Post. 'Storekeeper, weight out three fathoms of your\r\nbest half-inch manila.\r\n\r\n'We'll establish a precedent which will last the men of Forty-Mile to\r\nthe end of time,' he prophesied. Then he coiled the rope about his arm\r\nand led his followers out of doors, just in time to meet the principals.\r\n\r\n'What danged right'd he to fetch my wife in?' thundered Bettles to the\r\nsoothing overtures of a friend. ''Twa'n't called for,' he concluded\r\ndecisively. ''Twa'n't called for,' he reiterated again and again,\r\npacing up and down and waiting for Lon McFane.\r\n\r\nAnd Lon McFane--his face was hot and tongue rapid as he flaunted\r\ninsurrection in the face of the Church. 'Then, father,' he cried, 'it's\r\nwith an aisy heart I'll roll in me flamy blankets, the broad of me back\r\non a bed of coals. Niver shall it be said that Lon McFane took a lie\r\n'twixt the teeth without iver liftin' a hand! An' I'll not ask a\r\nblessin'. The years have been wild, but it's the heart was in the right\r\nplace.' 'But it's not the heart, Lon,' interposed Father Roubeau; 'It's\r\npride that bids you forth to slay your fellow man.' 'Yer Frinch,' Lon\r\nreplied. And then, turning to leave him, 'An' will ye say a mass if the\r\nluck is against me?' But the priest smiled, thrust his moccasined feet\r\nto the fore, and went out upon the white breast of the silent river. A\r\npacked trail, the width of a sixteen-inch sled, led out to the\r\nwaterhole. On either side lay the deep, soft snow. The men trod in\r\nsingle file, without conversation; and the black-stoled priest in their\r\nmidst gave to the function the solemn aspect of a funeral. It was a\r\nwarm winter's day for Forty-Mile--a day in which the sky, filled with\r\nheaviness, drew closer to the earth, and the mercury sought the\r\nunwonted level of twenty below. But there was no cheer in the warmth.\r\nThere was little air in the upper strata, and the clouds hung\r\nmotionless, giving sullen promise of an early snowfall. And the earth,\r\nunresponsive, made no preparation, content in its hibernation.\r\n\r\nWhen the waterhole was reached, Bettles, having evidently reviewed the\r\nquarrel during the silent walk, burst out in a final ''Twa'n't called\r\nfor,' while Lon McFane kept grim silence. Indignation so choked him\r\nthat he could not speak.\r\n\r\nYet deep down, whenever their own wrongs were not uppermost, both men\r\nwondered at their comrades. They had expected opposition, and this\r\ntacit acquiescence hurt them. It seemed more was due them from the men\r\nthey had been so close with, and they felt a vague sense of wrong,\r\nrebelling at the thought of so many of their brothers coming out, as on\r\na gala occasion, without one word of protest, to see them shoot each\r\nother down. It appeared their worth had diminished in the eyes of the\r\ncommunity. The proceedings puzzled them.\r\n\r\n'Back to back, David. An' will it be fifty paces to the man, or double\r\nthe quantity?'\r\n\r\n'Fifty,' was the sanguinary reply, grunted out, yet sharply cut.\r\n\r\nBut the new manila, not prominently displayed, but casually coiled\r\nabout Malemute Kid's arm, caught the quick eye of the Irishman, and\r\nthrilled him with a suspicious fear.\r\n\r\n'An' what are ye doin' with the rope?' 'Hurry up!' Malemute Kid glanced\r\nat his watch.\r\n\r\n'I've a batch of bread in the cabin, and I don't want it to fall.\r\nBesides, my feet are getting cold.' The rest of the men manifested\r\ntheir impatience in various suggestive ways.\r\n\r\n'But the rope, Kid' It's bran' new, an' sure yer bread's not that heavy\r\nit needs raisin' with the like of that?' Bettles by this time had faced\r\naround. Father Roubeau, the humor of the situation just dawning on him,\r\nhid a smile behind his mittened hand.\r\n\r\n'No, Lon; this rope was made for a man.' Malemute Kid could be very\r\nimpressive on occasion.\r\n\r\n'What man?' Bettles was becoming aware of a personal interest.\r\n\r\n'The other man.' 'An' which is the one ye'd mane by that?' 'Listen,\r\nLon--and you, too, Bettles! We've been talking this little trouble of\r\nyours over, and we've come to one conclusion. We know we have no right\r\nto stop your fighting-' 'True for ye, me lad!' 'And we're not going to.\r\nBut this much we can do, and shall do--make this the only duel in the\r\nhistory of Forty-Mile, set an example for every che-cha-qua that comes\r\nup or down the Yukon. The man who escapes killing shall be hanged to\r\nthe nearest tree. Now, go ahead!'\r\n\r\nLon smiled dubiously, then his face lighted up. 'Pace her off,\r\nDavid--fifty paces, wheel, an' niver a cease firin' till a lad's down\r\nfor good. 'Tis their hearts'll niver let them do the deed, an' it's\r\nwell ye should know it for a true Yankee bluff.'\r\n\r\nHe started off with a pleased grin on his face, but Malemute Kid halted\r\nhim.\r\n\r\n'Lon! It's a long while since you first knew me?' 'Many's the day.'\r\n'And you, Bettles?'\r\n\r\n'Five year next June high water.' 'And have you once, in all that time,\r\nknown me to break my word' Or heard of me breaking it?' Both men shook\r\ntheir heads, striving to fathom what lay beyond.\r\n\r\n'Well, then, what do you think of a promise made by me?' 'As good as\r\nyour bond,' from Bettles.\r\n\r\n'The thing to safely sling yer hopes of heaven by,' promptly endorsed\r\nLon McFane.\r\n\r\n'Listen! I, Malemute Kid, give you my word--and you know what that\r\nmeans that the man who is not shot stretches rope within ten minutes\r\nafter the shooting.' He stepped back as Pilate might have done after\r\nwashing his hands.\r\n\r\nA pause and a silence came over the men of Forty-Mile. The sky drew\r\nstill closer, sending down a crystal flight of frost--little geometric\r\ndesigns, perfect, evanescent as a breath, yet destined to exist till\r\nthe returning sun had covered half its northern journey.\r\n\r\nBoth men had led forlorn hopes in their time--led with a curse or a\r\njest on their tongues, and in their souls an unswerving faith in the\r\nGod of Chance. But that merciful deity had been shut out from the\r\npresent deal. They studied the face of Malemute Kid, but they studied\r\nas one might the Sphinx. As the quiet minutes passed, a feeling that\r\nspeech was incumbent on them began to grow. At last the howl of a\r\nwolf-dog cracked the silence from the direction of Forty-Mile. The\r\nweird sound swelled with all the pathos of a breaking heart, then died\r\naway in a long-drawn sob.\r\n\r\n'Well I be danged!' Bettles turned up the collar of his mackinaw jacket\r\nand stared about him helplessly.\r\n\r\n'It's a gloryus game yer runnin', Kid,' cried Lon McFane. 'All the\r\npercentage of the house an' niver a bit to the man that's buckin'. The\r\nDevil himself'd niver tackle such a cinch--and damned if I do.' There\r\nwere chuckles, throttled in gurgling throats, and winks brushed away\r\nwith the frost which rimed the eyelashes, as the men climbed the\r\nice-notched bank and started across the street to the Post. But the\r\nlong howl had drawn nearer, invested with a new note of menace. A woman\r\nscreamed round the corner. There was a cry of, 'Here he comes!' Then an\r\nIndian boy, at the head of half a dozen frightened dogs, racing with\r\ndeath, dashed into the crowd. And behind came Yellow Fang, a bristle of\r\nhair and a flash of gray. Everybody but the Yankee fled.\r\n\r\nThe Indian boy had tripped and fallen. Bettles stopped long enough to\r\ngrip him by the slack of his furs, then headed for a pile of cordwood\r\nalready occupied by a number of his comrades. Yellow Fang, doubling\r\nafter one of the dogs, came leaping back. The fleeing animal, free of\r\nthe rabies, but crazed with fright, whipped Bettles off his feet and\r\nflashed on up the street. Malemute Kid took a flying shot at Yellow\r\nFang. The mad dog whirled a half airspring, came down on his back,\r\nthen, with a single leap, covered half the distance between himself and\r\nBettles.\r\n\r\nBut the fatal spring was intercepted. Lon McFane leaped from the\r\nwoodpile, countering him in midair. Over they rolled, Lon holding him\r\nby the throat at arm's length, blinking under the fetid slaver which\r\nsprayed his face. Then Bettles, revolver in hand and coolly waiting a\r\nchance, settled the combat.\r\n\r\n''Twas a square game, Kid,' Lon remarked, rising to his feet and\r\nshaking the snow from out his sleeves; 'with a fair percentage to\r\nmeself that bucked it.' That night, while Lon McFane sought the\r\nforgiving arms of the Church in the direction of Father Roubeau's\r\ncabin, Malemute Kid talked long to little purpose.\r\n\r\n'But would you,' persisted Mackenzie, 'supposing they had fought?'\r\n'Have I ever broken my word?' 'No; but that isn't the point. Answer the\r\nquestion. Would you?' Malemute Kid straightened up. 'Scruff, I've been\r\nasking myself that question ever since, and--'\r\n\r\n'Well?'\r\n\r\n'Well, as yet, I haven't found the answer.'\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nIn a Far Country\r\n\r\nWhen a man journeys into a far country, he must be prepared to forget\r\nmany of the things he has learned, and to acquire such customs as are\r\ninherent with existence in the new land; he must abandon the old ideals\r\nand the old gods, and oftentimes he must reverse the very codes by\r\nwhich his conduct has hitherto been shaped. To those who have the\r\nprotean faculty of adaptability, the novelty of such change may even be\r\na source of pleasure; but to those who happen to be hardened to the\r\nruts in which they were created, the pressure of the altered\r\nenvironment is unbearable, and they chafe in body and in spirit under\r\nthe new restrictions which they do not understand. This chafing is\r\nbound to act and react, producing divers evils and leading to various\r\nmisfortunes. It were better for the man who cannot fit himself to the\r\nnew groove to return to his own country; if he delay too long, he will\r\nsurely die.\r\n\r\nThe man who turns his back upon the comforts of an elder civilization,\r\nto face the savage youth, the primordial simplicity of the North, may\r\nestimate success at an inverse ratio to the quantity and quality of his\r\nhopelessly fixed habits. He will soon discover, if he be a fit\r\ncandidate, that the material habits are the less important. The\r\nexchange of such things as a dainty menu for rough fare, of the stiff\r\nleather shoe for the soft, shapeless moccasin, of the feather bed for a\r\ncouch in the snow, is after all a very easy matter. But his pinch will\r\ncome in learning properly to shape his mind's attitude toward all\r\nthings, and especially toward his fellow man. For the courtesies of\r\nordinary life, he must substitute unselfishness, forbearance, and\r\ntolerance. Thus, and thus only, can he gain that pearl of great\r\nprice--true comradeship. He must not say 'thank you'; he must mean it\r\nwithout opening his mouth, and prove it by responding in kind. In\r\nshort, he must substitute the deed for the word, the spirit for the\r\nletter.\r\n\r\nWhen the world rang with the tale of Arctic gold, and the lure of the\r\nNorth gripped the heartstrings of men, Carter Weatherbee threw up his\r\nsnug clerkship, turned the half of his savings over to his wife, and\r\nwith the remainder bought an outfit. There was no romance in his\r\nnature--the bondage of commerce had crushed all that; he was simply\r\ntired of the ceaseless grind, and wished to risk great hazards in view\r\nof corresponding returns. Like many another fool, disdaining the old\r\ntrails used by the Northland pioneers for a score of years, he hurried\r\nto Edmonton in the spring of the year; and there, unluckily for his\r\nsoul's welfare, he allied himself with a party of men.\r\n\r\nThere was nothing unusual about this party, except its plans. Even its\r\ngoal, like that of all the other parties, was the Klondike. But the\r\nroute it had mapped out to attain that goal took away the breath of the\r\nhardiest native, born and bred to the vicissitudes of the Northwest.\r\nEven Jacques Baptiste, born of a Chippewa woman and a renegade voyageur\r\n(having raised his first whimpers in a deerskin lodge north of the\r\nsixty-fifth parallel, and had the same hushed by blissful sucks of raw\r\ntallow), was surprised. Though he sold his services to them and agreed\r\nto travel even to the never-opening ice, he shook his head ominously\r\nwhenever his advice was asked.\r\n\r\nPercy Cuthfert's evil star must have been in the ascendant, for he,\r\ntoo, joined this company of argonauts. He was an ordinary man, with a\r\nbank account as deep as his culture, which is saying a good deal. He\r\nhad no reason to embark on such a venture--no reason in the world save\r\nthat he suffered from an abnormal development of sentimentality. He\r\nmistook this for the true spirit of romance and adventure. Many another\r\nman has done the like, and made as fatal a mistake.\r\n\r\nThe first break-up of spring found the party following the ice-run of\r\nElk River. It was an imposing fleet, for the outfit was large, and they\r\nwere accompanied by a disreputable contingent of half-breed voyageurs\r\nwith their women and children. Day in and day out, they labored with\r\nthe bateaux and canoes, fought mosquitoes and other kindred pests, or\r\nsweated and swore at the portages. Severe toil like this lays a man\r\nnaked to the very roots of his soul, and ere Lake Athabasca was lost in\r\nthe south, each member of the party had hoisted his true colors.\r\n\r\nThe two shirks and chronic grumblers were Carter Weatherbee and Percy\r\nCuthfert. The whole party complained less of its aches and pains than\r\ndid either of them. Not once did they volunteer for the thousand and\r\none petty duties of the camp. A bucket of water to be brought, an extra\r\narmful of wood to be chopped, the dishes to be washed and wiped, a\r\nsearch to be made through the outfit for some suddenly indispensable\r\narticle--and these two effete scions of civilization discovered sprains\r\nor blisters requiring instant attention.\r\n\r\nThey were the first to turn in at night, with score of tasks yet\r\nundone; the last to turn out in the morning, when the start should be\r\nin readiness before the breakfast was begun.\r\n\r\nThey were the first to fall to at mealtime, the last to have a hand in\r\nthe cooking; the first to dive for a slim delicacy, the last to\r\ndiscover they had added to their own another man's share. If they\r\ntoiled at the oars, they slyly cut the water at each stroke and allowed\r\nthe boat's momentum to float up the blade. They thought nobody noticed;\r\nbut their comrades swore under their breaths and grew to hate them,\r\nwhile Jacques Baptiste sneered openly and damned them from morning till\r\nnight. But Jacques Baptiste was no gentleman.\r\n\r\nAt the Great Slave, Hudson Bay dogs were purchased, and the fleet sank\r\nto the guards with its added burden of dried fish and pemican. Then\r\ncanoe and bateau answered to the swift current of the Mackenzie, and\r\nthey plunged into the Great Barren Ground. Every likely-looking\r\n'feeder' was prospected, but the elusive 'pay-dirt' danced ever to the\r\nnorth. At the Great Bear, overcome by the common dread of the Unknown\r\nLands, their voyageurs began to desert, and Fort of Good Hope saw the\r\nlast and bravest bending to the towlines as they bucked the current\r\ndown which they had so treacherously glided.\r\n\r\nJacques Baptiste alone remained. Had he not sworn to travel even to the\r\nnever-opening ice? The lying charts, compiled in main from hearsay,\r\nwere now constantly consulted.\r\n\r\nAnd they felt the need of hurry, for the sun had already passed its\r\nnorthern solstice and was leading the winter south again. Skirting the\r\nshores of the bay, where the Mackenzie disembogues into the Arctic\r\nOcean, they entered the mouth of the Little Peel River. Then began the\r\narduous up-stream toil, and the two Incapables fared worse than ever.\r\nTowline and pole, paddle and tumpline, rapids and portages--such\r\ntortures served to give the one a deep disgust for great hazards, and\r\nprinted for the other a fiery text on the true romance of adventure.\r\nOne day they waxed mutinous, and being vilely cursed by Jacques\r\nBaptiste, turned, as worms sometimes will. But the half-breed thrashed\r\nthe twain, and sent them, bruised and bleeding, about their work. It\r\nwas the first time either had been manhandled.\r\n\r\nAbandoning their river craft at the headwaters of the Little Peel, they\r\nconsumed the rest of the summer in the great portage over the Mackenzie\r\nwatershed to the West Rat. This little stream fed the Porcupine, which\r\nin turn joined the Yukon where that mighty highway of the North\r\ncountermarches on the Arctic Circle.\r\n\r\nBut they had lost in the race with winter, and one day they tied their\r\nrafts to the thick eddy-ice and hurried their goods ashore. That night\r\nthe river jammed and broke several times; the following morning it had\r\nfallen asleep for good. 'We can't be more'n four hundred miles from the\r\nYukon,' concluded Sloper, multiplying his thumb nails by the scale of\r\nthe map. The council, in which the two Incapables had whined to\r\nexcellent disadvantage, was drawing to a close.\r\n\r\n'Hudson Bay Post, long time ago. No use um now.' Jacques Baptiste's\r\nfather had made the trip for the Fur Company in the old days,\r\nincidentally marking the trail with a couple of frozen toes.\r\n\r\nSufferin' cracky!' cried another of the party. 'No whites?' 'Nary\r\nwhite,' Sloper sententiously affirmed; 'but it's only five hundred more\r\nup the Yukon to Dawson. Call it a rough thousand from here.' Weatherbee\r\nand Cuthfert groaned in chorus.\r\n\r\n'How long'll that take, Baptiste?' The half-breed figured for a moment.\r\n'Workum like hell, no man play out, ten--twenty--forty--fifty days. Um\r\nbabies come' (designating the Incapables), 'no can tell. Mebbe when\r\nhell freeze over; mebbe not then.' The manufacture of snowshoes and\r\nmoccasins ceased. Somebody called the name of an absent member, who\r\ncame out of an ancient cabin at the edge of the campfire and joined\r\nthem. The cabin was one of the many mysteries which lurk in the vast\r\nrecesses of the North. Built when and by whom, no man could tell.\r\n\r\nTwo graves in the open, piled high with stones, perhaps contained the\r\nsecret of those early wanderers. But whose hand had piled the stones?\r\nThe moment had come. Jacques Baptiste paused in the fitting of a\r\nharness and pinned the struggling dog in the snow. The cook made mute\r\nprotest for delay, threw a handful of bacon into a noisy pot of beans,\r\nthen came to attention. Sloper rose to his feet. His body was a\r\nludicrous contrast to the healthy physiques of the Incapables. Yellow\r\nand weak, fleeing from a South American fever-hole, he had not broken\r\nhis flight across the zones, and was still able to toil with men. His\r\nweight was probably ninety pounds, with the heavy hunting knife thrown\r\nin, and his grizzled hair told of a prime which had ceased to be. The\r\nfresh young muscles of either Weatherbee or Cuthfert were equal to ten\r\ntimes the endeavor of his; yet he could walk them into the earth in a\r\nday's journey. And all this day he had whipped his stronger comrades\r\ninto venturing a thousand miles of the stiffest hardship man can\r\nconceive. He was the incarnation of the unrest of his race, and the old\r\nTeutonic stubbornness, dashed with the quick grasp and action of the\r\nYankee, held the flesh in the bondage of the spirit.\r\n\r\n'All those in favor of going on with the dogs as soon as the ice sets,\r\nsay ay.' 'Ay!' rang out eight voices--voices destined to string a trail\r\nof oaths along many a hundred miles of pain.\r\n\r\n'Contrary minded?' 'No!' For the first time the Incapables were united\r\nwithout some compromise of personal interests.\r\n\r\n'And what are you going to do about it?' Weatherbee added belligerently.\r\n\r\n'Majority rule! Majority rule!' clamored the rest of the party.\r\n\r\n'I know the expedition is liable to fall through if you don't come,'\r\nSloper replied sweetly; 'but I guess, if we try real hard, we can\r\nmanage to do without you.\r\n\r\nWhat do you say, boys?' The sentiment was cheered to the echo.\r\n\r\n'But I say, you know,' Cuthfert ventured apprehensively; 'what's a chap\r\nlike me to do?'\r\n\r\n'Ain't you coming with us.' 'No--o.' 'Then do as you damn well please.\r\nWe won't have nothing to say.' 'Kind o' calkilate yuh might settle it\r\nwith that canoodlin' pardner of yourn,' suggested a heavy-going\r\nWesterner from the Dakotas, at the same time pointing out Weatherbee.\r\n'He'll be shore to ask yuh what yur a-goin' to do when it comes to\r\ncookin' an' gatherin' the wood.' 'Then we'll consider it all arranged,'\r\nconcluded Sloper.\r\n\r\n'We'll pull out tomorrow, if we camp within five miles--just to get\r\neverything in running order and remember if we've forgotten anything.'\r\nThe sleds groaned by on their steel-shod runners, and the dogs strained\r\nlow in the harnesses in which they were born to die.\r\n\r\nJacques Baptiste paused by the side of Sloper to get a last glimpse of\r\nthe cabin. The smoke curled up pathetically from the Yukon stovepipe.\r\nThe two Incapables were watching them from the doorway.\r\n\r\nSloper laid his hand on the other's shoulder.\r\n\r\n'Jacques Baptiste, did you ever hear of the Kilkenny cats?' The\r\nhalf-breed shook his head.\r\n\r\n'Well, my friend and good comrade, the Kilkenny cats fought till\r\nneither hide, nor hair, nor yowl, was left. You understand?--till\r\nnothing was left. Very good.\r\n\r\nNow, these two men don't like work. They'll be all alone in that cabin\r\nall winter--a mighty long, dark winter. Kilkenny cats--well?' The\r\nFrenchman in Baptiste shrugged his shoulders, but the Indian in him was\r\nsilent. Nevertheless, it was an eloquent shrug, pregnant with prophecy.\r\nThings prospered in the little cabin at first. The rough badinage of\r\ntheir comrades had made Weatherbee and Cuthfert conscious of the mutual\r\nresponsibility which had devolved upon them; besides, there was not so\r\nmuch work after all for two healthy men. And the removal of the cruel\r\nwhiphand, or in other words the bulldozing half-breed, had brought with\r\nit a joyous reaction. At first, each strove to outdo the other, and\r\nthey performed petty tasks with an unction which would have opened the\r\neyes of their comrades who were now wearing out bodies and souls on the\r\nLong Trail.\r\n\r\nAll care was banished. The forest, which shouldered in upon them from\r\nthree sides, was an inexhaustible woodyard. A few yards from their door\r\nslept the Porcupine, and a hole through its winter robe formed a\r\nbubbling spring of water, crystal clear and painfully cold. But they\r\nsoon grew to find fault with even that. The hole would persist in\r\nfreezing up, and thus gave them many a miserable hour of ice-chopping.\r\nThe unknown builders of the cabin had extended the sidelogs so as to\r\nsupport a cache at the rear. In this was stored the bulk of the party's\r\nprovisions.\r\n\r\nFood there was, without stint, for three times the men who were fated\r\nto live upon it. But the most of it was the kind which built up brawn\r\nand sinew, but did not tickle the palate.\r\n\r\nTrue, there was sugar in plenty for two ordinary men; but these two\r\nwere little else than children. They early discovered the virtues of\r\nhot water judiciously saturated with sugar, and they prodigally swam\r\ntheir flapjacks and soaked their crusts in the rich, white syrup.\r\n\r\nThen coffee and tea, and especially the dried fruits, made disastrous\r\ninroads upon it. The first words they had were over the sugar question.\r\nAnd it is a really serious thing when two men, wholly dependent upon\r\neach other for company, begin to quarrel.\r\n\r\nWeatherbee loved to discourse blatantly on politics, while Cuthfert,\r\nwho had been prone to clip his coupons and let the commonwealth jog on\r\nas best it might, either ignored the subject or delivered himself of\r\nstartling epigrams. But the clerk was too obtuse to appreciate the\r\nclever shaping of thought, and this waste of ammunition irritated\r\nCuthfert.\r\n\r\nHe had been used to blinding people by his brilliancy, and it worked\r\nhim quite a hardship, this loss of an audience. He felt personally\r\naggrieved and unconsciously held his muttonhead companion responsible\r\nfor it.\r\n\r\nSave existence, they had nothing in common--came in touch on no single\r\npoint.\r\n\r\nWeatherbee was a clerk who had known naught but clerking all his life;\r\nCuthfert was a master of arts, a dabbler in oils, and had written not a\r\nlittle. The one was a lower-class man who considered himself a\r\ngentleman, and the other was a gentleman who knew himself to be such.\r\nFrom this it may be remarked that a man can be a gentleman without\r\npossessing the first instinct of true comradeship. The clerk was as\r\nsensuous as the other was aesthetic, and his love adventures, told at\r\ngreat length and chiefly coined from his imagination, affected the\r\nsupersensitive master of arts in the same way as so many whiffs of\r\nsewer gas. He deemed the clerk a filthy, uncultured brute, whose place\r\nwas in the muck with the swine, and told him so; and he was\r\nreciprocally informed that he was a milk-and-water sissy and a cad.\r\nWeatherbee could not have defined 'cad' for his life; but it satisfied\r\nits purpose, which after all seems the main point in life.\r\n\r\nWeatherbee flatted every third note and sang such songs as 'The Boston\r\nBurglar' and 'the Handsome Cabin Boy,' for hours at a time, while\r\nCuthfert wept with rage, till he could stand it no longer and fled into\r\nthe outer cold. But there was no escape. The intense frost could not be\r\nendured for long at a time, and the little cabin crowded them--beds,\r\nstove, table, and all--into a space of ten by twelve. The very presence\r\nof either became a personal affront to the other, and they lapsed into\r\nsullen silences which increased in length and strength as the days went\r\nby. Occasionally, the flash of an eye or the curl of a lip got the\r\nbetter of them, though they strove to wholly ignore each other during\r\nthese mute periods.\r\n\r\nAnd a great wonder sprang up in the breast of each, as to how God had\r\never come to create the other.\r\n\r\nWith little to do, time became an intolerable burden to them. This\r\nnaturally made them still lazier. They sank into a physical lethargy\r\nwhich there was no escaping, and which made them rebel at the\r\nperformance of the smallest chore. One morning when it was his turn to\r\ncook the common breakfast, Weatherbee rolled out of his blankets, and\r\nto the snoring of his companion, lighted first the slush lamp and then\r\nthe fire. The kettles were frozen hard, and there was no water in the\r\ncabin with which to wash. But he did not mind that. Waiting for it to\r\nthaw, he sliced the bacon and plunged into the hateful task of\r\nbread-making. Cuthfert had been slyly watching through his half-closed\r\nlids.\r\n\r\nConsequently there was a scene, in which they fervently blessed each\r\nother, and agreed, henceforth, that each do his own cooking. A week\r\nlater, Cuthfert neglected his morning ablutions, but none the less\r\ncomplacently ate the meal which he had cooked. Weatherbee grinned.\r\nAfter that the foolish custom of washing passed out of their lives.\r\n\r\nAs the sugar-pile and other little luxuries dwindled, they began to be\r\nafraid they were not getting their proper shares, and in order that\r\nthey might not be robbed, they fell to gorging themselves. The luxuries\r\nsuffered in this gluttonous contest, as did also the men.\r\n\r\nIn the absence of fresh vegetables and exercise, their blood became\r\nimpoverished, and a loathsome, purplish rash crept over their bodies.\r\nYet they refused to heed the warning.\r\n\r\nNext, their muscles and joints began to swell, the flesh turning black,\r\nwhile their mouths, gums, and lips took on the color of rich cream.\r\nInstead of being drawn together by their misery, each gloated over the\r\nother's symptoms as the scurvy took its course.\r\n\r\nThey lost all regard for personal appearance, and for that matter,\r\ncommon decency. The cabin became a pigpen, and never once were the beds\r\nmade or fresh pine boughs laid underneath. Yet they could not keep to\r\ntheir blankets, as they would have wished; for the frost was\r\ninexorable, and the fire box consumed much fuel. The hair of their\r\nheads and faces grew long and shaggy, while their garments would have\r\ndisgusted a ragpicker. But they did not care. They were sick, and there\r\nwas no one to see; besides, it was very painful to move about.\r\n\r\nTo all this was added a new trouble--the Fear of the North. This Fear\r\nwas the joint child of the Great Cold and the Great Silence, and was\r\nborn in the darkness of December, when the sun dipped below the horizon\r\nfor good. It affected them according to their natures.\r\n\r\nWeatherbee fell prey to the grosser superstitions, and did his best to\r\nresurrect the spirits which slept in the forgotten graves. It was a\r\nfascinating thing, and in his dreams they came to him from out of the\r\ncold, and snuggled into his blankets, and told him of their toils and\r\ntroubles ere they died. He shrank away from the clammy contact as they\r\ndrew closer and twined their frozen limbs about him, and when they\r\nwhispered in his ear of things to come, the cabin rang with his\r\nfrightened shrieks. Cuthfert did not understand--for they no longer\r\nspoke--and when thus awakened he invariably grabbed for his revolver.\r\nThen he would sit up in bed, shivering nervously, with the weapon\r\ntrained on the unconscious dreamer. Cuthfert deemed the man going mad,\r\nand so came to fear for his life.\r\n\r\nHis own malady assumed a less concrete form. The mysterious artisan who\r\nhad laid the cabin, log by log, had pegged a wind-vane to the\r\nridgepole. Cuthfert noticed it always pointed south, and one day,\r\nirritated by its steadfastness of purpose, he turned it toward the\r\neast. He watched eagerly, but never a breath came by to disturb it.\r\nThen he turned the vane to the north, swearing never again to touch it\r\ntill the wind did blow. But the air frightened him with its unearthly\r\ncalm, and he often rose in the middle of the night to see if the vane\r\nhad veered--ten degrees would have satisfied him. But no, it poised\r\nabove him as unchangeable as fate.\r\n\r\nHis imagination ran riot, till it became to him a fetish. Sometimes he\r\nfollowed the path it pointed across the dismal dominions, and allowed\r\nhis soul to become saturated with the Fear. He dwelt upon the unseen\r\nand the unknown till the burden of eternity appeared to be crushing\r\nhim. Everything in the Northland had that crushing effect--the absence\r\nof life and motion; the darkness; the infinite peace of the brooding\r\nland; the ghastly silence, which made the echo of each heartbeat a\r\nsacrilege; the solemn forest which seemed to guard an awful,\r\ninexpressible something, which neither word nor thought could compass.\r\n\r\nThe world he had so recently left, with its busy nations and great\r\nenterprises, seemed very far away. Recollections occasionally\r\nobtruded--recollections of marts and galleries and crowded\r\nthoroughfares, of evening dress and social functions, of good men and\r\ndear women he had known--but they were dim memories of a life he had\r\nlived long centuries agone, on some other planet. This phantasm was the\r\nReality. Standing beneath the wind-vane, his eyes fixed on the polar\r\nskies, he could not bring himself to realize that the Southland really\r\nexisted, that at that very moment it was a-roar with life and action.\r\n\r\nThere was no Southland, no men being born of women, no giving and\r\ntaking in marriage.\r\n\r\nBeyond his bleak skyline there stretched vast solitudes, and beyond\r\nthese still vaster solitudes.\r\n\r\nThere were no lands of sunshine, heavy with the perfume of flowers.\r\nSuch things were only old dreams of paradise. The sunlands of the West\r\nand the spicelands of the East, the smiling Arcadias and blissful\r\nIslands of the Blest--ha! ha! His laughter split the void and shocked\r\nhim with its unwonted sound. There was no sun.\r\n\r\nThis was the Universe, dead and cold and dark, and he its only citizen.\r\nWeatherbee? At such moments Weatherbee did not count. He was a Caliban,\r\na monstrous phantom, fettered to him for untold ages, the penalty of\r\nsome forgotten crime.\r\n\r\nHe lived with Death among the dead, emasculated by the sense of his own\r\ninsignificance, crushed by the passive mastery of the slumbering ages.\r\nThe magnitude of all things appalled him. Everything partook of the\r\nsuperlative save himself--the perfect cessation of wind and motion, the\r\nimmensity of the snow-covered wildness, the height of the sky and the\r\ndepth of the silence. That wind-vane--if it would only move. If a\r\nthunderbolt would fall, or the forest flare up in flame.\r\n\r\nThe rolling up of the heavens as a scroll, the crash of Doom--anything,\r\nanything! But no, nothing moved; the Silence crowded in, and the Fear\r\nof the North laid icy fingers on his heart.\r\n\r\nOnce, like another Crusoe, by the edge of the river he came upon a\r\ntrack--the faint tracery of a snowshoe rabbit on the delicate\r\nsnow-crust. It was a revelation.\r\n\r\nThere was life in the Northland. He would follow it, look upon it,\r\ngloat over it.\r\n\r\nHe forgot his swollen muscles, plunging through the deep snow in an\r\necstasy of anticipation. The forest swallowed him up, and the brief\r\nmidday twilight vanished; but he pursued his quest till exhausted\r\nnature asserted itself and laid him helpless in the snow.\r\n\r\nThere he groaned and cursed his folly, and knew the track to be the\r\nfancy of his brain; and late that night he dragged himself into the\r\ncabin on hands and knees, his cheeks frozen and a strange numbness\r\nabout his feet. Weatherbee grinned malevolently, but made no offer to\r\nhelp him. He thrust needles into his toes and thawed them out by the\r\nstove. A week later mortification set in.\r\n\r\nBut the clerk had his own troubles. The dead men came out of their\r\ngraves more frequently now, and rarely left him, waking or sleeping. He\r\ngrew to wait and dread their coming, never passing the twin cairns\r\nwithout a shudder. One night they came to him in his sleep and led him\r\nforth to an appointed task. Frightened into inarticulate horror, he\r\nawoke between the heaps of stones and fled wildly to the cabin. But he\r\nhad lain there for some time, for his feet and cheeks were also frozen.\r\n\r\nSometimes he became frantic at their insistent presence, and danced\r\nabout the cabin, cutting the empty air with an axe, and smashing\r\neverything within reach.\r\n\r\nDuring these ghostly encounters, Cuthfert huddled into his blankets and\r\nfollowed the madman about with a cocked revolver, ready to shoot him if\r\nhe came too near.\r\n\r\nBut, recovering from one of these spells, the clerk noticed the weapon\r\ntrained upon him.\r\n\r\nHis suspicions were aroused, and thenceforth he, too, lived in fear of\r\nhis life. They watched each other closely after that, and faced about\r\nin startled fright whenever either passed behind the other's back. The\r\napprehensiveness became a mania which controlled them even in their\r\nsleep. Through mutual fear they tacitly let the slush-lamp burn all\r\nnight, and saw to a plentiful supply of bacon-grease before retiring.\r\nThe slightest movement on the part of one was sufficient to arouse the\r\nother, and many a still watch their gazes countered as they shook\r\nbeneath their blankets with fingers on the trigger-guards.\r\n\r\nWhat with the Fear of the North, the mental strain, and the ravages of\r\nthe disease, they lost all semblance of humanity, taking on the\r\nappearance of wild beasts, hunted and desperate. Their cheeks and\r\nnoses, as an aftermath of the freezing, had turned black.\r\n\r\nTheir frozen toes had begun to drop away at the first and second\r\njoints. Every movement brought pain, but the fire box was insatiable,\r\nwringing a ransom of torture from their miserable bodies. Day in, day\r\nout, it demanded its food--a veritable pound of flesh--and they dragged\r\nthemselves into the forest to chop wood on their knees. Once, crawling\r\nthus in search of dry sticks, unknown to each other they entered a\r\nthicket from opposite sides.\r\n\r\nSuddenly, without warning, two peering death's-heads confronted each\r\nother. Suffering had so transformed them that recognition was\r\nimpossible. They sprang to their feet, shrieking with terror, and\r\ndashed away on their mangled stumps; and falling at the cabin's door,\r\nthey clawed and scratched like demons till they discovered their\r\nmistake.\r\n\r\nOccasionally they lapsed normal, and during one of these sane\r\nintervals, the chief bone of contention, the sugar, had been divided\r\nequally between them. They guarded their separate sacks, stored up in\r\nthe cache, with jealous eyes; for there were but a few cupfuls left,\r\nand they were totally devoid of faith in each other.\r\n\r\nBut one day Cuthfert made a mistake. Hardly able to move, sick with\r\npain, with his head swimming and eyes blinded, he crept into the cache,\r\nsugar canister in hand, and mistook Weatherbee's sack for his own.\r\n\r\nJanuary had been born but a few days when this occurred. The sun had\r\nsome time since passed its lowest southern declination, and at meridian\r\nnow threw flaunting streaks of yellow light upon the northern sky. On\r\nthe day following his mistake with the sugar-bag, Cuthfert found\r\nhimself feeling better, both in body and in spirit. As noontime drew\r\nnear and the day brightened, he dragged himself outside to feast on the\r\nevanescent glow, which was to him an earnest of the sun's future\r\nintentions. Weatherbee was also feeling somewhat better, and crawled\r\nout beside him. They propped themselves in the snow beneath the\r\nmoveless wind-vane, and waited.\r\n\r\nThe stillness of death was about them. In other climes, when nature\r\nfalls into such moods, there is a subdued air of expectancy, a waiting\r\nfor some small voice to take up the broken strain. Not so in the North.\r\nThe two men had lived seeming eons in this ghostly peace.\r\n\r\nThey could remember no song of the past; they could conjure no song of\r\nthe future. This unearthly calm had always been--the tranquil silence\r\nof eternity.\r\n\r\nTheir eyes were fixed upon the north. Unseen, behind their backs,\r\nbehind the towering mountains to the south, the sun swept toward the\r\nzenith of another sky than theirs. Sole spectators of the mighty\r\ncanvas, they watched the false dawn slowly grow. A faint flame began to\r\nglow and smoulder. It deepened in intensity, ringing the changes of\r\nreddish-yellow, purple, and saffron. So bright did it become that\r\nCuthfert thought the sun must surely be behind it--a miracle, the sun\r\nrising in the north! Suddenly, without warning and without fading, the\r\ncanvas was swept clean. There was no color in the sky. The light had\r\ngone out of the day.\r\n\r\nThey caught their breaths in half-sobs. But lo! the air was aglint with\r\nparticles of scintillating frost, and there, to the north, the\r\nwind-vane lay in vague outline of the snow.\r\n\r\nA shadow! A shadow! It was exactly midday. They jerked their heads\r\nhurriedly to the south. A golden rim peeped over the mountain's snowy\r\nshoulder, smiled upon them an instant, then dipped from sight again.\r\n\r\nThere were tears in their eyes as they sought each other. A strange\r\nsoftening came over them. They felt irresistibly drawn toward each\r\nother. The sun was coming back again. It would be with them tomorrow,\r\nand the next day, and the next.\r\n\r\nAnd it would stay longer every visit, and a time would come when it\r\nwould ride their heaven day and night, never once dropping below the\r\nskyline. There would be no night.\r\n\r\nThe ice-locked winter would be broken; the winds would blow and the\r\nforests answer; the land would bathe in the blessed sunshine, and life\r\nrenew.\r\n\r\nHand in hand, they would quit this horrid dream and journey back to the\r\nSouthland. They lurched blindly forward, and their hands met--their\r\npoor maimed hands, swollen and distorted beneath their mittens.\r\n\r\nBut the promise was destined to remain unfulfilled. The Northland is\r\nthe Northland, and men work out their souls by strange rules, which\r\nother men, who have not journeyed into far countries, cannot come to\r\nunderstand.\r\n\r\nAn hour later, Cuthfert put a pan of bread into the oven, and fell to\r\nspeculating on what the surgeons could do with his feet when he got\r\nback. Home did not seem so very far away now. Weatherbee was rummaging\r\nin the cache. Of a sudden, he raised a whirlwind of blasphemy, which in\r\nturn ceased with startling abruptness. The other man had robbed his\r\nsugar-sack. Still, things might have happened differently, had not the\r\ntwo dead men come out from under the stones and hushed the hot words in\r\nhis throat. They led him quite gently from the cache, which he forgot\r\nto close. That consummation was reached; that something they had\r\nwhispered to him in his dreams was about to happen. They guided him\r\ngently, very gently, to the woodpile, where they put the axe in his\r\nhands.\r\n\r\nThen they helped him shove open the cabin door, and he felt sure they\r\nshut it after him--at least he heard it slam and the latch fall sharply\r\ninto place. And he knew they were waiting just without, waiting for him\r\nto do his task.\r\n\r\n'Carter! I say, Carter!' Percy Cuthfert was frightened at the look on\r\nthe clerk's face, and he made haste to put the table between them.\r\n\r\nCarter Weatherbee followed, without haste and without enthusiasm. There\r\nwas neither pity nor passion in his face, but rather the patient,\r\nstolid look of one who has certain work to do and goes about it\r\nmethodically.\r\n\r\n'I say, what's the matter?'\r\n\r\nThe clerk dodged back, cutting off his retreat to the door, but never\r\nopening his mouth.\r\n\r\n'I say, Carter, I say; let's talk. There's a good chap.' The master of\r\narts was thinking rapidly, now, shaping a skillful flank movement on\r\nthe bed where his Smith & Wesson lay. Keeping his eyes on the madman,\r\nhe rolled backward on the bunk, at the same time clutching the pistol.\r\n\r\n'Carter!' The powder flashed full in Weatherbee's face, but he swung\r\nhis weapon and leaped forward. The axe bit deeply at the base of the\r\nspine, and Percy Cuthfert felt all consciousness of his lower limbs\r\nleave him. Then the clerk fell heavily upon him, clutching him by the\r\nthroat with feeble fingers. The sharp bite of the axe had caused\r\nCuthfert to drop the pistol, and as his lungs panted for release, he\r\nfumbled aimlessly for it among the blankets. Then he remembered. He\r\nslid a hand up the clerk's belt to the sheath-knife; and they drew very\r\nclose to each other in that last clinch.\r\n\r\nPercy Cuthfert felt his strength leave him. The lower portion of his\r\nbody was useless, The inert weight of Weatherbee crushed him--crushed\r\nhim and pinned him there like a bear under a trap. The cabin became\r\nfilled with a familiar odor, and he knew the bread to be burning. Yet\r\nwhat did it matter? He would never need it. And there were all of six\r\ncupfuls of sugar in the cache--if he had foreseen this he would not\r\nhave been so saving the last several days. Would the wind-vane ever\r\nmove? Why not' Had he not seen the sun today? He would go and see. No;\r\nit was impossible to move. He had not thought the clerk so heavy a man.\r\n\r\nHow quickly the cabin cooled! The fire must be out. The cold was\r\nforcing in.\r\n\r\nIt must be below zero already, and the ice creeping up the inside of\r\nthe door. He could not see it, but his past experience enabled him to\r\ngauge its progress by the cabin's temperature. The lower hinge must be\r\nwhite ere now. Would the tale of this ever reach the world? How would\r\nhis friends take it? They would read it over their coffee, most likely,\r\nand talk it over at the clubs. He could see them very clearly, 'Poor\r\nOld Cuthfert,' they murmured; 'not such a bad sort of a chap, after\r\nall.' He smiled at their eulogies, and passed on in search of a Turkish\r\nbath. It was the same old crowd upon the streets.\r\n\r\nStrange, they did not notice his moosehide moccasins and tattered\r\nGerman socks! He would take a cab. And after the bath a shave would not\r\nbe bad. No; he would eat first.\r\n\r\nSteak, and potatoes, and green things how fresh it all was! And what\r\nwas that? Squares of honey, streaming liquid amber! But why did they\r\nbring so much? Ha! ha! he could never eat it all.\r\n\r\nShine! Why certainly. He put his foot on the box. The bootblack looked\r\ncuriously up at him, and he remembered his moosehide moccasins and went\r\naway hastily.\r\n\r\nHark! The wind-vane must be surely spinning. No; a mere singing in his\r\nears.\r\n\r\nThat was all--a mere singing. The ice must have passed the latch by\r\nnow. More likely the upper hinge was covered. Between the moss-chinked\r\nroof-poles, little points of frost began to appear. How slowly they\r\ngrew! No; not so slowly. There was a new one, and there another.\r\nTwo--three--four; they were coming too fast to count. There were two\r\ngrowing together. And there, a third had joined them.\r\n\r\nWhy, there were no more spots. They had run together and formed a sheet.\r\n\r\nWell, he would have company. If Gabriel ever broke the silence of the\r\nNorth, they would stand together, hand in hand, before the great White\r\nThrone. And God would judge them, God would judge them!\r\n\r\nThen Percy Cuthfert closed his eyes and dropped off to sleep.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nTo the Man on the Trail\r\n\r\n'Dump it in!.' 'But I say, Kid, isn't that going it a little too\r\nstrong? Whisky and alcohol's bad enough; but when it comes to brandy\r\nand pepper sauce and-' 'Dump it in. Who's making this punch, anyway?'\r\nAnd Malemute Kid smiled benignantly through the clouds of steam. 'By\r\nthe time you've been in this country as long as I have, my son, and\r\nlived on rabbit tracks and salmon belly, you'll learn that Christmas\r\ncomes only once per annum.\r\n\r\nAnd a Christmas without punch is sinking a hole to bedrock with nary a\r\npay streak.'\r\n\r\n'Stack up on that fer a high cyard,' approved Big Jim Belden, who had\r\ncome down from his claim on Mazy May to spend Christmas, and who, as\r\neveryone knew, had been living the two months past on straight moose\r\nmeat. 'Hain't fergot the hooch we-uns made on the Tanana, hey yeh?'\r\n'Well, I guess yes. Boys, it would have done your hearts good to see\r\nthat whole tribe fighting drunk--and all because of a glorious ferment\r\nof sugar and sour dough. That was before your time,' Malemute Kid said\r\nas he turned to Stanley Prince, a young mining expert who had been in\r\ntwo years. 'No white women in the country then, and Mason wanted to get\r\nmarried. Ruth's father was chief of the Tananas, and objected, like the\r\nrest of the tribe. Stiff? Why, I used my last pound of sugar; finest\r\nwork in that line I ever did in my life. You should have seen the\r\nchase, down the river and across the portage.' 'But the squaw?' asked\r\nLouis Savoy, the tall French Canadian, becoming interested; for he had\r\nheard of this wild deed when at Forty Mile the preceding winter.\r\n\r\nThen Malemute Kid, who was a born raconteur, told the unvarnished tale\r\nof the Northland Lochinvar. More than one rough adventurer of the North\r\nfelt his heartstrings draw closer and experienced vague yearnings for\r\nthe sunnier pastures of the Southland, where life promised something\r\nmore than a barren struggle with cold and death.\r\n\r\n'We struck the Yukon just behind the first ice run,' he concluded, 'and\r\nthe tribe only a quarter of an hour behind. But that saved us; for the\r\nsecond run broke the jam above and shut them out. When they finally got\r\ninto Nuklukyeto, the whole post was ready for them.\r\n\r\n'And as to the forgathering, ask Father Roubeau here: he performed the\r\nceremony.' The Jesuit took the pipe from his lips but could only\r\nexpress his gratification with patriarchal smiles, while Protestant and\r\nCatholic vigorously applauded.\r\n\r\n'By gar!' ejaculated Louis Savoy, who seemed overcome by the romance of\r\nit. 'La petite squaw: mon Mason brav. By gar!' Then, as the first tin\r\ncups of punch went round, Bettles the Unquenchable sprang to his feet\r\nand struck up his favorite drinking song: 'There's Henry Ward Beecher\r\nAnd Sunday-school teachers, All drink of the sassafras root; But you\r\nbet all the same, If it had its right name, It's the juice of the\r\nforbidden fruit.'\r\n\r\n'Oh, the juice of the forbidden fruit,' roared out the bacchanalian\r\nchorus, 'Oh, the juice of the forbidden fruit; But you bet all the\r\nsame, If it had its right name, It's the juice of the forbidden fruit.'\r\n\r\nMalemute Kid's frightful concoction did its work; the men of the camps\r\nand trails unbent in its genial glow, and jest and song and tales of\r\npast adventure went round the board.\r\n\r\nAliens from a dozen lands, they toasted each and all. It was the\r\nEnglishman, Prince, who pledged 'Uncle Sam, the precocious infant of\r\nthe New World'; the Yankee, Bettles, who drank to 'The Queen, God bless\r\nher'; and together, Savoy and Meyers, the German trader, clanged their\r\ncups to Alsace and Lorraine.\r\n\r\nThen Malemute Kid arose, cup in hand, and glanced at the greased-paper\r\nwindow, where the frost stood full three inches thick. 'A health to the\r\nman on trail this night; may his grub hold out; may his dogs keep their\r\nlegs; may his matches never miss fire.' Crack!\r\n\r\nCrack! heard the familiar music of the dog whip, the whining howl of\r\nthe Malemutes, and the crunch of a sled as it drew up to the cabin.\r\nConversation languished while they waited the issue.\r\n\r\n'An old-timer; cares for his dogs and then himself,' whispered Malemute\r\nKid to Prince as they listened to the snapping jaws and the wolfish\r\nsnarls and yelps of pain which proclaimed to their practiced ears that\r\nthe stranger was beating back their dogs while he fed his own.\r\n\r\nThen came the expected knock, sharp and confident, and the stranger\r\nentered.\r\n\r\nDazzled by the light, he hesitated a moment at the door, giving to all\r\na chance for scrutiny. He was a striking personage, and a most\r\npicturesque one, in his Arctic dress of wool and fur. Standing six foot\r\ntwo or three, with proportionate breadth of shoulders and depth of\r\nchest, his smooth-shaven face nipped by the cold to a gleaming pink,\r\nhis long lashes and eyebrows white with ice, and the ear and neck flaps\r\nof his great wolfskin cap loosely raised, he seemed, of a verity, the\r\nFrost King, just stepped in out of the night.\r\n\r\nClasped outside his Mackinaw jacket, a beaded belt held two large\r\nColt's revolvers and a hunting knife, while he carried, in addition to\r\nthe inevitable dog whip, a smokeless rifle of the largest bore and\r\nlatest pattern. As he came forward, for all his step was firm and\r\nelastic, they could see that fatigue bore heavily upon him.\r\n\r\nAn awkward silence had fallen, but his hearty 'What cheer, my lads?'\r\nput them quickly at ease, and the next instant Malemute Kid and he had\r\ngripped hands. Though they had never met, each had heard of the other,\r\nand the recognition was mutual. A sweeping introduction and a mug of\r\npunch were forced upon him before he could explain his errand.\r\n\r\nHow long since that basket sled, with three men and eight dogs,\r\npassed?' he asked.\r\n\r\n'An even two days ahead. Are you after them?' 'Yes; my team. Run them\r\noff under my very nose, the cusses. I've gained two days on them\r\nalready--pick them up on the next run.' 'Reckon they'll show spunk?'\r\nasked Belden, in order to keep up the conversation, for Malemute Kid\r\nalready had the coffeepot on and was busily frying bacon and moose meat.\r\n\r\nThe stranger significantly tapped his revolvers.\r\n\r\n'When'd yeh leave Dawson?' 'Twelve o'clock.' 'Last night?'--as a matter\r\nof course.\r\n\r\n'Today.' A murmur of surprise passed round the circle. And well it\r\nmight; for it was just midnight, and seventy-five miles of rough river\r\ntrail was not to be sneered at for a twelve hours' run.\r\n\r\nThe talk soon became impersonal, however, harking back to the trails of\r\nchildhood. As the young stranger ate of the rude fare Malemute Kid\r\nattentively studied his face. Nor was he long in deciding that it was\r\nfair, honest, and open, and that he liked it. Still youthful, the lines\r\nhad been firmly traced by toil and hardship.\r\n\r\nThough genial in conversation, and mild when at rest, the blue eyes\r\ngave promise of the hard steel-glitter which comes when called into\r\naction, especially against odds. The heavy jaw and square-cut chin\r\ndemonstrated rugged pertinacity and indomitability. Nor, though the\r\nattributes of the lion were there, was there wanting the certain\r\nsoftness, the hint of womanliness, which bespoke the emotional nature.\r\n\r\n'So thet's how me an' the ol' woman got spliced,' said Belden,\r\nconcluding the exciting tale of his courtship. '\"Here we be, Dad,\" sez\r\nshe. \"An' may yeh be damned,\" sez he to her, an' then to me, \"Jim,\r\nyeh--yeh git outen them good duds o' yourn; I want a right peart slice\r\no' thet forty acre plowed 'fore dinner.\" An' then he sort o' sniffled\r\nan' kissed her. An' I was thet happy--but he seen me an' roars out,\r\n\"Yeh, Jim!\" An' yeh bet I dusted fer the barn.' 'Any kids waiting for\r\nyou back in the States?' asked the stranger.\r\n\r\n'Nope; Sal died 'fore any come. Thet's why I'm here.' Belden\r\nabstractedly began to light his pipe, which had failed to go out, and\r\nthen brightened up with, 'How 'bout yerself, stranger--married man?'\r\nFor reply, he opened his watch, slipped it from the thong which served\r\nfor a chain, and passed it over. Belden picked up the slush lamp,\r\nsurveyed the inside of the case critically, and, swearing admiringly to\r\nhimself, handed it over to Louis Savoy. With numerous 'By gars!' he\r\nfinally surrendered it to Prince, and they noticed that his hands\r\ntrembled and his eyes took on a peculiar softness. And so it passed\r\nfrom horny hand to horny hand--the pasted photograph of a woman, the\r\nclinging kind that such men fancy, with a babe at the breast. Those who\r\nhad not yet seen the wonder were keen with curiosity; those who had\r\nbecame silent and retrospective. They could face the pinch of famine,\r\nthe grip of scurvy, or the quick death by field or flood; but the\r\npictured semblance of a stranger woman and child made women and\r\nchildren of them all.\r\n\r\n'Never have seen the youngster yet--he's a boy, she says, and two years\r\nold,' said the stranger as he received the treasure back. A lingering\r\nmoment he gazed upon it, then snapped the case and turned away, but not\r\nquick enough to hide the restrained rush of tears.  Malemute Kid led\r\nhim to a bunk and bade him turn in.\r\n\r\n'Call me at four sharp. Don't fail me,' were his last words, and a\r\nmoment later he was breathing in the heaviness of exhausted sleep.\r\n\r\n'By Jove! He's a plucky chap,' commented Prince. 'Three hours' sleep\r\nafter seventy-five miles with the dogs, and then the trail again. Who\r\nis he, Kid?' 'Jack Westondale. Been in going on three years, with\r\nnothing but the name of working like a horse, and any amount of bad\r\nluck to his credit. I never knew him, but Sitka Charley told me about\r\nhim.' 'It seems hard that a man with a sweet young wife like his should\r\nbe putting in his years in this Godforsaken hole, where every year\r\ncounts two on the outside.' 'The trouble with him is clean grit and\r\nstubbornness. He's cleaned up twice with a stake, but lost it both\r\ntimes.' Here the conversation was broken off by an uproar from Bettles,\r\nfor the effect had begun to wear away. And soon the bleak years of\r\nmonotonous grub and deadening toil were being forgotten in rough\r\nmerriment. Malemute Kid alone seemed unable to lose himself, and cast\r\nmany an anxious look at his watch. Once he put on his mittens and\r\nbeaver-skin cap, and, leaving the cabin, fell to rummaging about in the\r\ncache.\r\n\r\nNor could he wait the hour designated; for he was fifteen minutes ahead\r\nof time in rousing his guest. The young giant had stiffened badly, and\r\nbrisk rubbing was necessary to bring him to his feet. He tottered\r\npainfully out of the cabin, to find his dogs harnessed and everything\r\nready for the start. The company wished him good luck and a short\r\nchase, while Father Roubeau, hurriedly blessing him, led the stampede\r\nfor the cabin; and small wonder, for it is not good to face\r\nseventy-four degrees below zero with naked ears and hands.\r\n\r\nMalemute Kid saw him to the main trail, and there, gripping his hand\r\nheartily, gave him advice.\r\n\r\n'You'll find a hundred pounds of salmon eggs on the sled,' he said.\r\n'The dogs will go as far on that as with one hundred and fifty of fish,\r\nand you can't get dog food at Pelly, as you probably expected.' The\r\nstranger started, and his eyes flashed, but he did not interrupt. 'You\r\ncan't get an ounce of food for dog or man till you reach Five Fingers,\r\nand that's a stiff two hundred miles. Watch out for open water on the\r\nThirty Mile River, and be sure you take the big cutoff above Le Barge.'\r\n'How did you know it? Surely the news can't be ahead of me already?' 'I\r\ndon't know it; and what's more, I don't want to know it. But you never\r\nowned that team you're chasing. Sitka Charley sold it to them last\r\nspring. But he sized you up to me as square once, and I believe him.\r\nI've seen your face; I like it. And I've seen--why, damn you, hit the\r\nhigh places for salt water and that wife of yours, and--' Here the Kid\r\nunmittened and jerked out his sack.\r\n\r\n'No; I don't need it,' and the tears froze on his cheeks as he\r\nconvulsively gripped Malemute Kid's hand.\r\n\r\n'Then don't spare the dogs; cut them out of the traces as fast as they\r\ndrop; buy them, and think they're cheap at ten dollars a pound. You can\r\nget them at Five Fingers, Little Salmon, and Hootalinqua. And watch out\r\nfor wet feet,' was his parting advice. 'Keep a-traveling up to\r\ntwenty-five, but if it gets below that, build a fire and change your\r\nsocks.'\r\n\r\nFifteen minutes had barely elapsed when the jingle of bells announced\r\nnew arrivals. The door opened, and a mounted policeman of the Northwest\r\nTerritory entered, followed by two half-breed dog drivers. Like\r\nWestondale, they were heavily armed and showed signs of fatigue. The\r\nhalf-breeds had been borne to the trail and bore it easily; but the\r\nyoung policeman was badly exhausted. Still, the dogged obstinacy of his\r\nrace held him to the pace he had set, and would hold him till he\r\ndropped in his tracks.\r\n\r\n'When did Westondale pull out?' he asked. 'He stopped here, didn't he?'\r\nThis was supererogatory, for the tracks told their own tale too well.\r\n\r\nMalemute Kid had caught Belden's eye, and he, scenting the wind,\r\nreplied evasively, 'A right peart while back.' 'Come, my man; speak\r\nup,' the policeman admonished.\r\n\r\n'Yeh seem to want him right smart. Hez he ben gittin' cantankerous down\r\nDawson way?'\r\n\r\n'Held up Harry McFarland's for forty thousand; exchanged it at the P.C.\r\nstore for a check on Seattle; and who's to stop the cashing of it if we\r\ndon't overtake him? When did he pull out?'\r\n\r\nEvery eye suppressed its excitement, for Malemute Kid had given the\r\ncue, and the young officer encountered wooden faces on every hand.\r\n\r\nStriding over to Prince, he put the question to him. Though it hurt\r\nhim, gazing into the frank, earnest face of his fellow countryman, he\r\nreplied inconsequentially on the state of the trail.\r\n\r\nThen he espied Father Roubeau, who could not lie. 'A quarter of an hour\r\nago,' the priest answered; 'but he had four hours' rest for himself and\r\ndogs.' 'Fifteen minutes' start, and he's fresh! My God!' The poor\r\nfellow staggered back, half fainting from exhaustion and\r\ndisappointment, murmuring something about the run from Dawson in ten\r\nhours and the dogs being played out.\r\n\r\nMalemute Kid forced a mug of punch upon him; then he turned for the\r\ndoor, ordering the dog drivers to follow. But the warmth and promise of\r\nrest were too tempting, and they objected strenuously. The Kid was\r\nconversant with their French patois, and followed it anxiously.\r\n\r\nThey swore that the dogs were gone up; that Siwash and Babette would\r\nhave to be shot before the first mile was covered; that the rest were\r\nalmost as bad; and that it would be better for all hands to rest up.\r\n\r\n'Lend me five dogs?' he asked, turning to Malemute Kid.\r\n\r\nBut the Kid shook his head.\r\n\r\n'I'll sign a check on Captain Constantine for five thousand--here's my\r\npapers--I'm authorized to draw at my own discretion.'\r\n\r\nAgain the silent refusal.\r\n\r\n'Then I'll requisition them in the name of the Queen.' Smiling\r\nincredulously, the Kid glanced at his well-stocked arsenal, and the\r\nEnglishman, realizing his impotency, turned for the door. But the dog\r\ndrivers still objecting, he whirled upon them fiercely, calling them\r\nwomen and curs. The swart face of the older half-breed flushed angrily\r\nas he drew himself up and promised in good, round terms that he would\r\ntravel his leader off his legs, and would then be delighted to plant\r\nhim in the snow.\r\n\r\nThe young officer--and it required his whole will--walked steadily to\r\nthe door, exhibiting a freshness he did not possess. But they all knew\r\nand appreciated his proud effort; nor could he veil the twinges of\r\nagony that shot across his face. Covered with frost, the dogs were\r\ncurled up in the snow, and it was almost impossible to get them to\r\ntheir feet. The poor brutes whined under the stinging lash, for the dog\r\ndrivers were angry and cruel; nor till Babette, the leader, was cut\r\nfrom the traces, could they break out the sled and get under way.\r\n\r\n'A dirty scoundrel and a liar!' 'By gar! Him no good!' 'A thief!'\r\n'Worse than an Indian!'\r\n\r\nIt was evident that they were angry--first at the way they had been\r\ndeceived; and second at the outraged ethics of the Northland, where\r\nhonesty, above all, was man's prime jewel.\r\n\r\n'An' we gave the cuss a hand, after knowin' what he'd did.' All eyes\r\nturned accusingly upon Malemute Kid, who rose from the corner where he\r\nhad been making Babette comfortable, and silently emptied the bowl for\r\na final round of punch.\r\n\r\n'It's a cold night, boys--a bitter cold night,' was the irrelevant\r\ncommencement of his defense. 'You've all traveled trail, and know what\r\nthat stands for. Don't jump a dog when he's down. You've only heard one\r\nside. A whiter man than Jack Westondale never ate from the same pot nor\r\nstretched blanket with you or me.\r\n\r\n'Last fall he gave his whole clean-up, forty thousand, to Joe Castrell,\r\nto buy in on Dominion. Today he'd be a millionaire. But, while he\r\nstayed behind at Circle City, taking care of his partner with the\r\nscurvy, what does Castell do? Goes into McFarland's, jumps the limit,\r\nand drops the whole sack. Found him dead in the snow the next day. And\r\npoor Jack laying his plans to go out this winter to his wife and the\r\nboy he's never seen. You'll notice he took exactly what his partner\r\nlost--forty thousand. Well, he's gone out; and what are you going to do\r\nabout it?' The Kid glanced round the circle of his judges, noted the\r\nsoftening of their faces, then raised his mug aloft. 'So a health to\r\nthe man on trail this night; may his grub hold out; may his dogs keep\r\ntheir legs; may his matches never miss fire.\r\n\r\n'God prosper him; good luck go with him; and--' 'Confusion to the\r\nMounted Police!' cried Bettles, to the crash of the empty cups.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nThe Priestly Prerogative\r\n\r\nThis is the story of a man who did not appreciate his wife; also, of a\r\nwoman who did him too great an honor when she gave herself to him.\r\nIncidentally, it concerns a Jesuit priest who had never been known to\r\nlie. He was an appurtenance, and a very necessary one, to the Yukon\r\ncountry; but the presence of the other two was merely accidental. They\r\nwere specimens of the many strange waifs which ride the breast of a\r\ngold rush or come tailing along behind.\r\n\r\nEdwin Bentham and Grace Bentham were waifs; they were also tailing\r\nalong behind, for the Klondike rush of '97 had long since swept down\r\nthe great river and subsided into the famine-stricken city of Dawson.\r\nWhen the Yukon shut up shop and went to sleep under a three-foot\r\nice-sheet, this peripatetic couple found themselves at the Five Finger\r\nRapids, with the City of Gold still a journey of many sleeps to the\r\nnorth.\r\n\r\nMany cattle had been butchered at this place in the fall of the year,\r\nand the offal made a goodly heap. The three fellow-voyagers of Edwin\r\nBentham and wife gazed upon this deposit, did a little mental\r\narithmetic, caught a certain glimpse of a bonanza, and decided to\r\nremain. And all winter they sold sacks of bones and frozen hides to the\r\nfamished dog-teams. It was a modest price they asked, a dollar a pound,\r\njust as it came. Six months later, when the sun came back and the Yukon\r\nawoke, they buckled on their heavy moneybelts and journeyed back to the\r\nSouthland, where they yet live and lie mightily about the Klondike they\r\nnever saw.\r\n\r\nBut Edwin Bentham--he was an indolent fellow, and had he not been\r\npossessed of a wife, would have gladly joined issued in the dog-meat\r\nspeculation. As it was, she played upon his vanity, told him how great\r\nand strong he was, how a man such as he certainly was could overcome\r\nall obstacles and of a surety obtain the Golden Fleece. So he squared\r\nhis jaw, sold his share in the bones and hides for a sled and one dog,\r\nand turned his snowshoes to the north. Needless to state, Grace\r\nBentham's snowshoes never allowed his tracks to grow cold. Nay, ere\r\ntheir tribulations had seen three days, it was the man who followed in\r\nthe rear, and the woman who broke trail in advance. Of course, if\r\nanybody hove in sight, the position was instantly reversed. Thus did\r\nhis manhood remain virgin to the travelers who passed like ghosts on\r\nthe silent trail. There are such men in this world.\r\n\r\nHow such a man and such a woman came to take each other for better and\r\nfor worse is unimportant to this narrative. These things are familiar\r\nto us all, and those people who do them, or even question them too\r\nclosely, are apt to lose a beautiful faith which is known as Eternal\r\nFitness.\r\n\r\nEdwin Bentham was a boy, thrust by mischance into a man's body,--a boy\r\nwho could complacently pluck a butterfly, wing from wing, or cower in\r\nabject terror before a lean, nervy fellow, not half his size. He was a\r\nselfish cry-baby, hidden behind a man's mustache and stature, and\r\nglossed over with a skin-deep veneer of culture and conventionality.\r\nYes; he was a clubman and a society man, the sort that grace social\r\nfunctions and utter inanities with a charm and unction which is\r\nindescribable; the sort that talk big, and cry over a toothache; the\r\nsort that put more hell into a woman's life by marrying her than can\r\nthe most graceless libertine that ever browsed in forbidden pastures.\r\nWe meet these men every day, but we rarely know them for what they are.\r\nSecond to marrying them, the best way to get this knowledge is to eat\r\nout of the same pot and crawl under the same blanket with them\r\nfor--well, say a week; no greater margin is necessary.\r\n\r\nTo see Grace Bentham, was to see a slender, girlish creature; to know\r\nher, was to know a soul which dwarfed your own, yet retained all the\r\nelements of the eternal feminine. This was the woman who urged and\r\nencouraged her husband in his Northland quest, who broke trail for him\r\nwhen no one was looking, and cried in secret over her weakling woman's\r\nbody.\r\n\r\nSo journeyed this strangely assorted couple down to old Fort Selkirk,\r\nthen through fivescore miles of dismal wilderness to Stuart River. And\r\nwhen the short day left them, and the man lay down in the snow and\r\nblubbered, it was the woman who lashed him to the sled, bit her lips\r\nwith the pain of her aching limbs, and helped the dog haul him to\r\nMalemute Kid's cabin. Malemute Kid was not at home, but Meyers, the\r\nGerman trader, cooked great moose-steaks and shook up a bed of fresh\r\npine boughs. Lake, Langham, and Parker, were excited, and not unduly so\r\nwhen the cause was taken into account.\r\n\r\n'Oh, Sandy! Say, can you tell a porterhouse from a round? Come out and\r\nlend us a hand, anyway!' This appeal emanated from the cache, where\r\nLangham was vainly struggling with divers quarters of frozen moose.\r\n\r\n'Don't you budge from those dishes!' commanded Parker.\r\n\r\n'I say, Sandy; there's a good fellow--just run down to the Missouri\r\nCamp and borrow some cinnamon,' begged Lake.\r\n\r\n'Oh! oh! hurry up! Why don't--' But the crash of meat and boxes, in the\r\ncache, abruptly quenched this peremptory summons.\r\n\r\n'Come now, Sandy; it won't take a minute to go down to the Missouri--'\r\n\r\n'You leave him alone,' interrupted Parker. 'How am I to mix the\r\nbiscuits if the table isn't cleared off?'\r\n\r\nSandy paused in indecision, till suddenly the fact that he was\r\nLangham's 'man' dawned upon him. Then he apologetically threw down the\r\ngreasy dishcloth, and went to his master's rescue.\r\n\r\nThese promising scions of wealthy progenitors had come to the Northland\r\nin search of laurels, with much money to burn, and a 'man' apiece.\r\nLuckily for their souls, the other two men were up the White River in\r\nsearch of a mythical quartz-ledge; so Sandy had to grin under the\r\nresponsibility of three healthy masters, each of whom was possessed of\r\npeculiar cookery ideas. Twice that morning had a disruption of the\r\nwhole camp been imminent, only averted by immense concessions from one\r\nor the other of these knights of the chafing-dish. But at last their\r\nmutual creation, a really dainty dinner, was completed.\r\n\r\nThen they sat down to a three-cornered game of 'cut-throat,'--a\r\nproceeding which did away with all casus belli for future hostilities,\r\nand permitted the victor to depart on a most important mission.\r\n\r\nThis fortune fell to Parker, who parted his hair in the middle, put on\r\nhis mittens and bearskin cap, and stepped over to Malemute Kid's cabin.\r\nAnd when he returned, it was in the company of Grace Bentham and\r\nMalemute Kid,--the former very sorry her husband could not share with\r\nher their hospitality, for he had gone up to look at the Henderson\r\nCreek mines, and the latter still a trifle stiff from breaking trail\r\ndown the Stuart River.\r\n\r\nMeyers had been asked, but had declined, being deeply engrossed in an\r\nexperiment of raising bread from hops.\r\n\r\nWell, they could do without the husband; but a woman--why they had not\r\nseen one all winter, and the presence of this one promised a new era in\r\ntheir lives.\r\n\r\nThey were college men and gentlemen, these three young fellows,\r\nyearning for the flesh-pots they had been so long denied. Probably\r\nGrace Bentham suffered from a similar hunger; at least, it meant much\r\nto her, the first bright hour in many weeks of darkness.\r\n\r\nBut that wonderful first course, which claimed the versatile Lake for\r\nits parent, had no sooner been served than there came a loud knock at\r\nthe door.\r\n\r\n'Oh! Ah! Won't you come in, Mr. Bentham?' said Parker, who had stepped\r\nto see who the newcomer might be.\r\n\r\n'Is my wife here?' gruffly responded that worthy.\r\n\r\n'Why, yes. We left word with Mr. Meyers.' Parker was exerting his most\r\ndulcet tones, inwardly wondering what the deuce it all meant. 'Won't\r\nyou come in? Expecting you at any moment, we reserved a place. And just\r\nin time for the first course, too.' 'Come in, Edwin, dear,' chirped\r\nGrace Bentham from her seat at the table.\r\n\r\nParker naturally stood aside.\r\n\r\n'I want my wife,' reiterated Bentham hoarsely, the intonation savoring\r\ndisagreeably of ownership.\r\n\r\nParker gasped, was within an ace of driving his fist into the face of\r\nhis boorish visitor, but held himself awkwardly in check. Everybody\r\nrose. Lake lost his head and caught himself on the verge of saying,\r\n'Must you go?' Then began the farrago of leave-taking. 'So nice of\r\nyou--' 'I am awfully sorry' 'By Jove! how things did brighten--'\r\n'Really now, you--'\r\n\r\n'Thank you ever so much--' 'Nice trip to Dawson--' etc., etc.\r\n\r\nIn this wise the lamb was helped into her jacket and led to the\r\nslaughter. Then the door slammed, and they gazed woefully upon the\r\ndeserted table.\r\n\r\n'Damn!' Langham had suffered disadvantages in his early training, and\r\nhis oaths were weak and monotonous. 'Damn!' he repeated, vaguely\r\nconscious of the incompleteness and vainly struggling for a more virile\r\nterm. It is a clever woman who can fill out the many weak places in an\r\ninefficient man, by her own indomitability, re-enforce his vacillating\r\nnature, infuse her ambitious soul into his, and spur him on to great\r\nachievements. And it is indeed a very clever and tactful woman who can\r\ndo all this, and do it so subtly that the man receives all the credit\r\nand believes in his inmost heart that everything is due to him and him\r\nalone.\r\n\r\nThis is what Grace Bentham proceeded to do. Arriving in Dawson with a\r\nfew pounds of flour and several letters of introduction, she at once\r\napplied herself to the task of pushing her big baby to the fore. It was\r\nshe who melted the stony heart and wrung credit from the rude barbarian\r\nwho presided over the destiny of the P. C. Company; yet it was Edwin\r\nBentham to whom the concession was ostensibly granted. It was she who\r\ndragged her baby up and down creeks, over benches and divides, and on a\r\ndozen wild stampedes; yet everybody remarked what an energetic fellow\r\nthat Bentham was. It was she who studied maps, and catechised miners,\r\nand hammered geography and locations into his hollow head, till\r\neverybody marveled at his broad grasp of the country and knowledge of\r\nits conditions. Of course, they said the wife was a brick, and only a\r\nfew wise ones appreciated and pitied the brave little woman.\r\n\r\nShe did the work; he got the credit and reward. In the Northwest\r\nTerritory a married woman cannot stake or record a creek, bench, or\r\nquartz claim; so Edwin Bentham went down to the Gold Commissioner and\r\nfiled on Bench Claim 23, second tier, of French Hill. And when April\r\ncame they were washing out a thousand dollars a day, with many, many\r\nsuch days in prospect.\r\n\r\nAt the base of French Hill lay Eldorado Creek, and on a creek claim\r\nstood the cabin of Clyde Wharton. At present he was not washing out a\r\ndiurnal thousand dollars; but his dumps grew, shift by shift, and there\r\nwould come a time when those dumps would pass through his sluice-boxes,\r\ndepositing in the riffles, in the course of half a dozen days, several\r\nhundred thousand dollars. He often sat in that cabin, smoked his pipe,\r\nand dreamed beautiful little dreams,--dreams in which neither the dumps\r\nnor the half-ton of dust in the P. C. Company's big safe, played a part.\r\n\r\nAnd Grace Bentham, as she washed tin dishes in her hillside cabin,\r\noften glanced down into Eldorado Creek, and dreamed,--not of dumps nor\r\ndust, however. They met frequently, as the trail to the one claim\r\ncrossed the other, and there is much to talk about in the Northland\r\nspring; but never once, by the light of an eye nor the slip of a\r\ntongue, did they speak their hearts.\r\n\r\nThis is as it was at first. But one day Edwin Bentham was brutal. All\r\nboys are thus; besides, being a French Hill king now, he began to think\r\na great deal of himself and to forget all he owed to his wife. On this\r\nday, Wharton heard of it, and waylaid Grace Bentham, and talked wildly.\r\nThis made her very happy, though she would not listen, and made him\r\npromise to not say such things again. Her hour had not come.\r\n\r\nBut the sun swept back on its northern journey, the black of midnight\r\nchanged to the steely color of dawn, the snow slipped away, the water\r\ndashed again over the glacial drift, and the wash-up began. Day and\r\nnight the yellow clay and scraped bedrock hurried through the swift\r\nsluices, yielding up its ransom to the strong men from the Southland.\r\n\r\nAnd in that time of tumult came Grace Bentham's hour.\r\n\r\nTo all of us such hours at some time come,--that is, to us who are not\r\ntoo phlegmatic.\r\n\r\nSome people are good, not from inherent love of virtue, but from sheer\r\nlaziness. But those of us who know weak moments may understand.\r\n\r\nEdwin Bentham was weighing dust over the bar of the saloon at the\r\nForks--altogether too much of his dust went over that pine board--when\r\nhis wife came down the hill and slipped into Clyde Wharton's cabin.\r\nWharton was not expecting her, but that did not alter the case. And\r\nmuch subsequent misery and idle waiting might have been avoided, had\r\nnot Father Roubeau seen this and turned aside from the main creek\r\ntrail. 'My child,--' 'Hold on, Father Roubeau! Though I'm not of your\r\nfaith, I respect you; but you can't come in between this woman and me!'\r\n'You know what you are doing?' 'Know! Were you God Almighty, ready to\r\nfling me into eternal fire, I'd bank my will against yours in this\r\nmatter.' Wharton had placed Grace on a stool and stood belligerently\r\nbefore her.\r\n\r\n'You sit down on that chair and keep quiet,' he continued, addressing\r\nthe Jesuit. 'I'll take my innings now. You can have yours after.'\r\n\r\nFather Roubeau bowed courteously and obeyed. He was an easy-going man\r\nand had learned to bide his time. Wharton pulled a stool alongside the\r\nwoman's, smothering her hand in his.\r\n\r\n'Then you do care for me, and will take me away?' Her face seemed to\r\nreflect the peace of this man, against whom she might draw close for\r\nshelter.\r\n\r\n'Dear, don't you remember what I said before? Of course I-' 'But how\r\ncan you?--the wash-up?' 'Do you think that worries? Anyway, I'll give\r\nthe job to Father Roubeau, here.\r\n\r\n'I can trust him to safely bank the dust with the company.' 'To think\r\nof it!--I'll never see him again.' 'A blessing!' 'And to go--O, Clyde,\r\nI can't! I can't!' 'There, there; of course you can, just let me plan\r\nit.--You see, as soon as we get a few traps together, we'll start,\r\nand-' 'Suppose he comes back?' 'I'll break every-' 'No, no! No\r\nfighting, Clyde! Promise me that.' 'All right! I'll just tell the men\r\nto throw him off the claim. They've seen how he's treated you, and\r\nhaven't much love for him.'\r\n\r\n'You mustn't do that. You mustn't hurt him.' 'What then? Let him come\r\nright in here and take you away before my eyes?' 'No-o,' she half\r\nwhispered, stroking his hand softly.\r\n\r\n'Then let me run it, and don't worry. I'll see he doesn't get hurt.\r\nPrecious lot he cared whether you got hurt or not! We won't go back to\r\nDawson. I'll send word down for a couple of the boys to outfit and pole\r\na boat up the Yukon. We'll cross the divide and raft down the Indian\r\nRiver to meet them. Then--' 'And then?' Her head was on his shoulder.\r\n\r\nTheir voices sank to softer cadences, each word a caress. The Jesuit\r\nfidgeted nervously.\r\n\r\n'And then?' she repeated.\r\n\r\n'Why we'll pole up, and up, and up, and portage the White Horse Rapids\r\nand the Box Canon.' 'Yes?' 'And the Sixty-Mile River; then the lakes,\r\nChilcoot, Dyea, and Salt Water.' 'But, dear, I can't pole a boat.' 'You\r\nlittle goose! I'll get Sitka Charley; he knows all the good water and\r\nbest camps, and he is the best traveler I ever met, if he is an Indian.\r\nAll you'll have to do, is to sit in the middle of the boat, and sing\r\nsongs, and play Cleopatra, and fight--no, we're in luck; too early for\r\nmosquitoes.'\r\n\r\n'And then, O my Antony?' 'And then a steamer, San Francisco, and the\r\nworld! Never to come back to this cursed hole again. Think of it! The\r\nworld, and ours to choose from! I'll sell out. Why, we're rich! The\r\nWaldworth Syndicate will give me half a million for what's left in the\r\nground, and I've got twice as much in the dumps and with the P. C.\r\nCompany. We'll go to the Fair in Paris in 1900. We'll go to Jerusalem,\r\nif you say so.\r\n\r\n'We'll buy an Italian palace, and you can play Cleopatra to your\r\nheart's content. No, you shall be Lucretia, Acte, or anybody your\r\nlittle heart sees fit to become. But you mustn't, you really mustn't-'\r\n'The wife of Caesar shall be above reproach.' 'Of course, but--' 'But I\r\nwon't be your wife, will I, dear?' 'I didn't mean that.' 'But you'll\r\nlove me just as much, and never even think--oh! I know you'll be like\r\nother men; you'll grow tired, and--and-'\r\n\r\n'How can you? I--' 'Promise me.' 'Yes, yes; I do promise.' 'You say it\r\nso easily, dear; but how do you know?--or I know? I have so little to\r\ngive, yet it is so much, and all I have. O, Clyde! promise me you\r\nwon't?'\r\n\r\n'There, there! You mustn't begin to doubt already. Till death do us\r\npart, you know.'\r\n\r\n'Think! I once said that to--to him, and now?' 'And now, little\r\nsweetheart, you're not to bother about such things any more.\r\n\r\nOf course, I never, never will, and--' And for the first time, lips\r\ntrembled against lips.\r\n\r\nFather Roubeau had been watching the main trail through the window, but\r\ncould stand the strain no longer.\r\n\r\nHe cleared his throat and turned around.\r\n\r\n'Your turn now, Father!' Wharton's face was flushed with the fire of\r\nhis first embrace.\r\n\r\nThere was an exultant ring to his voice as he abdicated in the other's\r\nfavor. He had no doubt as to the result. Neither had Grace, for a smile\r\nplayed about her mouth as she faced the priest.\r\n\r\n'My child,' he began, 'my heart bleeds for you. It is a pretty dream,\r\nbut it cannot be.'\r\n\r\n'And why, Father? I have said yes.' 'You knew not what you did. You did\r\nnot think of the oath you took, before your God, to that man who is\r\nyour husband. It remains for me to make you realize the sanctity of\r\nsuch a pledge.' 'And if I do realize, and yet refuse?'\r\n\r\n'Then God'\r\n\r\n'Which God? My husband has a God which I care not to worship. There\r\nmust be many such.' 'Child! unsay those words! Ah! you do not mean\r\nthem. I understand. I, too, have had such moments.' For an instant he\r\nwas back in his native France, and a wistful, sad-eyed face came as a\r\nmist between him and the woman before him.\r\n\r\n'Then, Father, has my God forsaken me? I am not wicked above women. My\r\nmisery with him has been great. Why should it be greater? Why shall I\r\nnot grasp at happiness? I cannot, will not, go back to him!' 'Rather is\r\nyour God forsaken. Return. Throw your burden upon Him, and the darkness\r\nshall be lifted. O my child,--' 'No; it is useless; I have made my bed\r\nand so shall I lie. I will go on. And if God punishes me, I shall bear\r\nit somehow. You do not understand. You are not a woman.' 'My mother was\r\na woman.'\r\n\r\n'But--' 'And Christ was born of a woman.' She did not answer. A silence\r\nfell. Wharton pulled his mustache impatiently and kept an eye on the\r\ntrail. Grace leaned her elbow on the table, her face set with resolve.\r\nThe smile had died away. Father Roubeau shifted his ground.\r\n\r\n'You have children?'\r\n\r\n'At one time I wished--but now--no. And I am thankful.' 'And a mother?'\r\n'Yes.' 'She loves you?' 'Yes.' Her replies were whispers.\r\n\r\n'And a brother?--no matter, he is a man. But a sister?' Her head\r\ndrooped a quavering 'Yes.' 'Younger? Very much?' 'Seven years.' 'And\r\nyou have thought well about this matter? About them? About your mother?\r\nAnd your sister? She stands on the threshold of her woman's life, and\r\nthis wildness of yours may mean much to her. Could you go before her,\r\nlook upon her fresh young face, hold her hand in yours, or touch your\r\ncheek to hers?'\r\n\r\nTo his words, her brain formed vivid images, till she cried out,\r\n'Don't! don't!' and shrank away as do the wolf-dogs from the lash.\r\n\r\n'But you must face all this; and better it is to do it now.' In his\r\neyes, which she could not see, there was a great compassion, but his\r\nface, tense and quivering, showed no relenting.\r\n\r\nShe raised her head from the table, forced back the tears, struggled\r\nfor control.\r\n\r\n'I shall go away. They will never see me, and come to forget me. I\r\nshall be to them as dead. And--and I will go with Clyde--today.' It\r\nseemed final. Wharton stepped forward, but the priest waved him back.\r\n\r\n'You have wished for children?' A silent 'Yes.' 'And prayed for them?'\r\n'Often.' 'And have you thought, if you should have children?' Father\r\nRoubeau's eyes rested for a moment on the man by the window.\r\n\r\nA quick light shot across her face. Then the full import dawned upon\r\nher. She raised her hand appealingly, but he went on.\r\n\r\n'Can you picture an innocent babe in your arms? A boy? The world is not\r\nso hard upon a girl. Why, your very breast would turn to gall! And you\r\ncould be proud and happy of your boy, as you looked on other\r\nchildren?--' 'O, have pity! Hush!' 'A scapegoat--'\r\n\r\n'Don't! don't! I will go back!' She was at his feet.\r\n\r\n'A child to grow up with no thought of evil, and one day the world to\r\nfling a tender name in his face. A child to look back and curse you\r\nfrom whose loins he sprang!'\r\n\r\n'O my God! my God!' She groveled on the floor. The priest sighed and\r\nraised her to her feet.\r\n\r\nWharton pressed forward, but she motioned him away.\r\n\r\n'Don't come near me, Clyde! I am going back!' The tears were coursing\r\npitifully down her face, but she made no effort to wipe them away.\r\n\r\n'After all this? You cannot! I will not let you!' 'Don't touch me!' She\r\nshivered and drew back.\r\n\r\n'I will! You are mine! Do you hear? You are mine!' Then he whirled upon\r\nthe priest. 'O what a fool I was to ever let you wag your silly tongue!\r\nThank your God you are not a common man, for I'd--but the priestly\r\nprerogative must be exercised, eh? Well, you have exercised it. Now get\r\nout of my house, or I'll forget who and what you are!' Father Roubeau\r\nbowed, took her hand, and started for the door. But Wharton cut them\r\noff.\r\n\r\n'Grace! You said you loved me?' 'I did.' 'And you do now?' 'I do.' 'Say\r\nit again.'\r\n\r\n'I do love you, Clyde; I do.' 'There, you priest!' he cried. 'You have\r\nheard it, and with those words on her lips you would send her back to\r\nlive a lie and a hell with that man?'\r\n\r\nBut Father Roubeau whisked the woman into the inner room and closed the\r\ndoor. 'No words!' he whispered to Wharton, as he struck a casual\r\nposture on a stool. 'Remember, for her sake,' he added.\r\n\r\nThe room echoed to a rough knock at the door; the latch raised and\r\nEdwin Bentham stepped in.\r\n\r\n'Seen anything of my wife?' he asked as soon as salutations had been\r\nexchanged.\r\n\r\nTwo heads nodded negatively.\r\n\r\n'I saw her tracks down from the cabin,' he continued tentatively, 'and\r\nthey broke off, just opposite here, on the main trail.' His listeners\r\nlooked bored.\r\n\r\n'And I--I thought--'\r\n\r\n'She was here!' thundered Wharton.\r\n\r\nThe priest silenced him with a look. 'Did you see her tracks leading up\r\nto this cabin, my son?' Wily Father Roubeau--he had taken good care to\r\nobliterate them as he came up the same path an hour before.\r\n\r\n'I didn't stop to look, I--' His eyes rested suspiciously on the door\r\nto the other room, then interrogated the priest. The latter shook his\r\nhead; but the doubt seemed to linger.\r\n\r\nFather Roubeau breathed a swift, silent prayer, and rose to his feet.\r\n'If you doubt me, why--' He made as though to open the door.\r\n\r\nA priest could not lie. Edwin Bentham had heard this often, and\r\nbelieved it.\r\n\r\n'Of course not, Father,' he interposed hurriedly. 'I was only wondering\r\nwhere my wife had gone, and thought maybe--I guess she's up at Mrs.\r\nStanton's on French Gulch. Nice weather, isn't it? Heard the news?\r\nFlour's gone down to forty dollars a hundred, and they say the\r\nche-cha-quas are flocking down the river in droves.\r\n\r\n'But I must be going; so good-by.' The door slammed, and from the\r\nwindow they watched him take his guest up French Gulch. A few weeks\r\nlater, just after the June high-water, two men shot a canoe into\r\nmid-stream and made fast to a derelict pine. This tightened the painter\r\nand jerked the frail craft along as would a tow-boat. Father Roubeau\r\nhad been directed to leave the Upper Country and return to his swarthy\r\nchildren at Minook. The white men had come among them, and they were\r\ndevoting too little time to fishing, and too much to a certain deity\r\nwhose transient habitat was in countless black bottles.\r\n\r\nMalemute Kid also had business in the Lower Country, so they journeyed\r\ntogether.\r\n\r\nBut one, in all the Northland, knew the man Paul Roubeau, and that man\r\nwas Malemute Kid. Before him alone did the priest cast off the\r\nsacerdotal garb and stand naked. And why not? These two men knew each\r\nother. Had they not shared the last morsel of fish, the last pinch of\r\ntobacco, the last and inmost thought, on the barren stretches of Bering\r\nSea, in the heartbreaking mazes of the Great Delta, on the terrible\r\nwinter journey from Point Barrow to the Porcupine? Father Roubeau\r\npuffed heavily at his trail-worn pipe, and gazed on the reddisked sun,\r\npoised somberly on the edge of the northern horizon.\r\n\r\nMalemute Kid wound up his watch. It was midnight.\r\n\r\n'Cheer up, old man!' The Kid was evidently gathering up a broken thread.\r\n\r\n'God surely will forgive such a lie. Let me give you the word of a man\r\nwho strikes a true note: If She have spoken a word, remember thy lips\r\nare sealed, And the brand of the Dog is upon him by whom is the secret\r\nrevealed.\r\n\r\nIf there be trouble to Herward, and a lie of the blackest can clear,\r\nLie, while thy lips can move or a man is alive to hear.'\r\n\r\nFather Roubeau removed his pipe and reflected. 'The man speaks true,\r\nbut my soul is not vexed with that. The lie and the penance stand with\r\nGod; but--but--'\r\n\r\n'What then? Your hands are clean.' 'Not so. Kid, I have thought much,\r\nand yet the thing remains. I knew, and made her go back.' The clear\r\nnote of a robin rang out from the wooden bank, a partridge drummed the\r\ncall in the distance, a moose lunged noisily in the eddy; but the twain\r\nsmoked on in silence.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nThe Wisdom of the Trail\r\n\r\nSitka Charley had achieved the impossible. Other Indians might have\r\nknown as much of the wisdom of the trail as he did; but he alone knew\r\nthe white man's wisdom, the honor of the trail, and the law. But these\r\nthings had not come to him in a day. The aboriginal mind is slow to\r\ngeneralize, and many facts, repeated often, are required to compass an\r\nunderstanding. Sitka Charley, from boyhood, had been thrown continually\r\nwith white men, and as a man he had elected to cast his fortunes with\r\nthem, expatriating himself, once and for all, from his own people. Even\r\nthen, respecting, almost venerating their power, and pondering over it,\r\nhe had yet to divine its secret essence--the honor and the law. And it\r\nwas only by the cumulative evidence of years that he had finally come\r\nto understand. Being an alien, when he did know, he knew it better than\r\nthe white man himself; being an Indian, he had achieved the impossible.\r\n\r\nAnd of these things had been bred a certain contempt for his own\r\npeople--a contempt which he had made it a custom to conceal, but which\r\nnow burst forth in a polyglot whirlwind of curses upon the heads of\r\nKah-Chucte and Gowhee. They cringed before him like a brace of snarling\r\nwolf dogs, too cowardly to spring, too wolfish to cover their fangs.\r\nThey were not handsome creatures. Neither was Sitka Charley. All three\r\nwere frightful-looking. There was no flesh to their faces; their\r\ncheekbones were massed with hideous scabs which had cracked and frozen\r\nalternately under the intense frost; while their eyes burned luridly\r\nwith the light which is born of desperation and hunger. Men so\r\nsituated, beyond the pale of the honor and the law, are not to be\r\ntrusted. Sitka Charley knew this; and this was why he had forced them\r\nto abandon their rifles with the rest of the camp outfit ten days\r\nbefore. His rifle and Captain Eppingwell's were the only ones that\r\nremained.\r\n\r\n'Come, get a fire started,' he commanded, drawing out the precious\r\nmatchbox with its attendant strips of dry birchbark.\r\n\r\nThe two Indians fell sullenly to the task of gathering dead branches\r\nand underwood. They were weak and paused often, catching themselves, in\r\nthe act of stooping, with giddy motions, or staggering to the center of\r\noperations with their knees shaking like castanets.\r\n\r\nAfter each trip they rested for a moment, as though sick and deadly\r\nweary. At times their eyes took on the patient stoicism of dumb\r\nsuffering; and again the ego seemed almost burst forth with its wild\r\ncry, 'I, I, I want to exist!'--the dominant note of the whole living\r\nuniverse.\r\n\r\nA light breath of air blew from the south, nipping the exposed portions\r\nof their bodies and driving the frost, in needles of fire, through fur\r\nand flesh to the bones. So, when the fire had grown lusty and thawed a\r\ndamp circle in the snow about it, Sitka Charley forced his reluctant\r\ncomrades to lend a hand in pitching a fly. It was a primitive affair,\r\nmerely a blanket stretched parallel with the fire and to windward of\r\nit, at an angle of perhaps forty-five degrees. This shut out the chill\r\nwind and threw the heat backward and down upon those who were to huddle\r\nin its shelter. Then a layer of green spruce boughs were spread, that\r\ntheir bodies might not come in contact with the snow. When this task\r\nwas completed, Kah-Chucte and Gowhee proceeded to take care of their\r\nfeet. Their icebound moccasins were sadly worn by much travel, and the\r\nsharp ice of the river jams had cut them to rags.\r\n\r\nTheir Siwash socks were similarly conditioned, and when these had been\r\nthawed and removed, the dead-white tips of the toes, in the various\r\nstages of mortification, told their simple tale of the trail.\r\n\r\nLeaving the two to the drying of their footgear, Sitka Charley turned\r\nback over the course he had come. He, too, had a mighty longing to sit\r\nby the fire and tend his complaining flesh, but the honor and the law\r\nforbade. He toiled painfully over the frozen field, each step a\r\nprotest, every muscle in revolt. Several times, where the open water\r\nbetween the jams had recently crusted, he was forced to miserably\r\naccelerate his movements as the fragile footing swayed and threatened\r\nbeneath him. In such places death was quick and easy; but it was not\r\nhis desire to endure no more.\r\n\r\nHis deepening anxiety vanished as two Indians dragged into view round a\r\nbend in the river. They staggered and panted like men under heavy\r\nburdens; yet the packs on their backs were a matter of but a few\r\npounds. He questioned them eagerly, and their replies seemed to relieve\r\nhim. He hurried on. Next came two white men, supporting between them a\r\nwoman. They also behaved as though drunken, and their limbs shook with\r\nweakness. But the woman leaned lightly upon them, choosing to carry\r\nherself forward with her own strength. At the sight of her a flash of\r\njoy cast its fleeting light across Sitka Charley's face. He cherished a\r\nvery great regard for Mrs. Eppingwell. He had seen many white women,\r\nbut this was the first to travel the trail with him. When Captain\r\nEppingwell proposed the hazardous undertaking and made him an offer for\r\nhis services, he had shaken his head gravely; for it was an unknown\r\njourney through the dismal vastnesses of the Northland, and he knew it\r\nto be of the kind that try to the uttermost the souls of men.\r\n\r\nBut when he learned that the captain's wife was to accompany them, he\r\nhad refused flatly to have anything further to do with it. Had it been\r\na woman of his own race he would have harbored no objections; but these\r\nwomen of the Southland--no, no, they were too soft, too tender, for\r\nsuch enterprises.\r\n\r\nSitka Charley did not know this kind of woman. Five minutes before, he\r\ndid not even dream of taking charge of the expedition; but when she\r\ncame to him with her wonderful smile and her straight clean English,\r\nand talked to the point, without pleading or persuading, he had\r\nincontinently yielded. Had there been a softness and appeal to mercy in\r\nthe eyes, a tremble to the voice, a taking advantage of sex, he would\r\nhave stiffened to steel; instead her clear-searching eyes and\r\nclear-ringing voice, her utter frankness and tacit assumption of\r\nequality, had robbed him of his reason. He felt, then, that this was a\r\nnew breed of woman; and ere they had been trail mates for many days he\r\nknew why the sons of such women mastered the land and the sea, and why\r\nthe sons of his own womankind could not prevail against them. Tender\r\nand soft! Day after day he watched her, muscle-weary, exhausted,\r\nindomitable, and the words beat in upon him in a perennial refrain.\r\nTender and soft! He knew her feet had been born to easy paths and sunny\r\nlands, strangers to the moccasined pain of the North, unkissed by the\r\nchill lips of the frost, and he watched and marveled at them twinkling\r\never through the weary day.\r\n\r\nShe had always a smile and a word of cheer, from which not even the\r\nmeanest packer was excluded. As the way grew darker she seemed to\r\nstiffen and gather greater strength, and when Kah-Chucte and Gowhee,\r\nwho had bragged that they knew every landmark of the way as a child did\r\nthe skin bails of the tepee, acknowledged that they knew not where they\r\nwere, it was she who raised a forgiving voice amid the curses of the\r\nmen. She had sung to them that night till they felt the weariness fall\r\nfrom them and were ready to face the future with fresh hope. And when\r\nthe food failed and each scant stint was measured jealously, she it was\r\nwho rebelled against the machinations of her husband and Sitka Charley,\r\nand demanded and received a share neither greater nor less than that of\r\nthe others.\r\n\r\nSitka Charley was proud to know this woman. A new richness, a greater\r\nbreadth, had come into his life with her presence. Hitherto he had been\r\nhis own mentor, had turned to right or left at no man's beck; he had\r\nmoulded himself according to his own dictates, nourished his manhood\r\nregardless of all save his own opinion. For the first time he had felt\r\na call from without for the best that was in him, just a glance of\r\nappreciation from the clear-searching eyes, a word of thanks from the\r\nclear-ringing voice, just a slight wreathing of the lips in the\r\nwonderful smile, and he walked with the gods for hours to come. It was\r\na new stimulant to his manhood; for the first time he thrilled with a\r\nconscious pride in his wisdom of the trail; and between the twain they\r\never lifted the sinking hearts of their comrades. The faces of the two\r\nmen and the woman brightened as they saw him, for after all he was the\r\nstaff they leaned upon. But Sitka Charley, rigid as was his wont,\r\nconcealing pain and pleasure impartially beneath an iron exterior,\r\nasked them the welfare of the rest, told the distance to the fire, and\r\ncontinued on the back-trip.\r\n\r\nNext he met a single Indian, unburdened, limping, lips compressed, and\r\neyes set with the pain of a foot in which the quick fought a losing\r\nbattle with the dead. All possible care had been taken of him, but in\r\nthe last extremity the weak and unfortunate must perish, and Sitka\r\nCharley deemed his days to be few. The man could not keep up for long,\r\nso he gave him rough cheering words. After that came two more Indians,\r\nto whom he had allotted the task of helping along Joe, the third white\r\nman of the party. They had deserted him. Sitka Charley saw at a glance\r\nthe lurking spring in their bodies, and knew they had at last cast off\r\nhis mastery. So he was not taken unawares when he ordered them back in\r\nquest of their abandoned charge, and saw the gleam of the hunting\r\nknives that they drew from the sheaths. A pitiful spectacle, three weak\r\nmen lifting their puny strength in the face of the mighty vastness; but\r\nthe two recoiled under the fierce rifle blows of the one and returned\r\nlike beaten dogs to the leash. Two hours later, with Joe reeling\r\nbetween them and Sitka Charley bringing up the rear, they came to the\r\nfire, where the remainder of the expedition crouched in the shelter of\r\nthe fly.\r\n\r\n'A few words, my comrades, before we sleep,' Sitka Charley said after\r\nthey had devoured their slim rations of unleavened bread. He was\r\nspeaking to the Indians in their own tongue, having already given the\r\nimport to the whites. 'A few words, my comrades, for your own good,\r\nthat ye may yet perchance live. I shall give you the law; on his own\r\nhead by the death of him that breaks it. We have passed the Hills of\r\nSilence, and we now travel the head reaches of the Stuart. It may be\r\none sleep, it may be several, it may be many sleeps, but in time we\r\nshall come among the men of the Yukon, who have much grub. It were well\r\nthat we look to the law. Today Kah-Chucte and Gowhee, whom I commanded\r\nto break trail, forgot they were men, and like frightened children ran\r\naway.\r\n\r\n'True, they forgot; so let us forget. But hereafter, let them remember.\r\nIf it should happen they do not...' He touched his rifle carelessly,\r\ngrimly. 'Tomorrow they shall carry the flour and see that the white man\r\nJoe lies not down by the trail. The cups of flour are counted; should\r\nso much as an ounce be wanting at nightfall... Do ye understand? Today\r\nthere were others that forgot. Moose Head and Three Salmon left the\r\nwhite man Joe to lie in the snow. Let them forget no more. With the\r\nlight of day shall they go forth and break trail. Ye have heard the\r\nlaw. Look well, lest ye break it.' Sitka Charley found it beyond him to\r\nkeep the line close up. From Moose Head and Three Salmon, who broke\r\ntrail in advance, to Kah-Chucte, Gowhee, and Joe, it straggled out over\r\na mile. Each staggered, fell or rested as he saw fit.\r\n\r\nThe line of march was a progression through a chain of irregular halts.\r\nEach drew upon the last remnant of his strength and stumbled onward\r\ntill it was expended, but in some miraculous way there was always\r\nanother last remnant. Each time a man fell it was with the firm belief\r\nthat he would rise no more; yet he did rise, and again and again. The\r\nflesh yielded, the will conquered; but each triumph was a tragedy. The\r\nIndian with the frozen foot, no longer erect, crawled forward on hand\r\nand knee. He rarely rested, for he knew the penalty exacted by the\r\nfrost.\r\n\r\nEven Mrs. Eppingwell's lips were at last set in a stony smile, and her\r\neyes, seeing, saw not. Often she stopped, pressing a mittened hand to\r\nher heart, gasping and dizzy.\r\n\r\nJoe, the white man, had passed beyond the stage of suffering. He no\r\nlonger begged to be let alone, prayed to die; but was soothed and\r\ncontent under the anodyne of delirium. Kah-Chucte and Gowhee dragged\r\nhim on roughly, venting upon him many a savage glance or blow. To them\r\nit was the acme of injustice.\r\n\r\nTheir hearts were bitter with hate, heavy with fear. Why should they\r\ncumber their strength with his weakness? To do so meant death; not to\r\ndo so--and they remembered the law of Sitka Charley, and the rifle.\r\n\r\nJoe fell with greater frequency as the daylight waned, and so hard was\r\nhe to raise that they dropped farther and farther behind. Sometimes all\r\nthree pitched into the snow, so weak had the Indians become. Yet on\r\ntheir backs was life, and strength, and warmth.\r\n\r\nWithin the flour sacks were all the potentialities of existence. They\r\ncould not but think of this, and it was not strange, that which came to\r\npass. They had fallen by the side of a great timber jam where a\r\nthousand cords of firewood waited the match. Near by was an air hole\r\nthrough the ice. Kah-Chucte looked on the wood and the water, as did\r\nGowhee; then they looked at each other.\r\n\r\nNever a word was spoken. Gowhee struck a fire; Kah-Chucte filled a tin\r\ncup with water and heated it; Joe babbled of things in another land, in\r\na tongue they did not understand.\r\n\r\nThey mixed flour with the warm water till it was a thin paste, and of\r\nthis they drank many cups. They did not offer any to Joe; but he did\r\nnot mind. He did not mind anything, not even his moccasins, which\r\nscorched and smoked among the coals.\r\n\r\nA crystal mist of snow fell about them, softly, caressingly, wrapping\r\nthem in clinging robes of white. And their feet would have yet trod\r\nmany trails had not destiny brushed the clouds aside and cleared the\r\nair. Nay, ten minutes' delay would have been salvation.\r\n\r\nSitka Charley, looking back, saw the pillared smoke of their fire, and\r\nguessed. And he looked ahead at those who were faithful, and at Mrs.\r\nEppingwell. 'So, my good comrades, ye have again forgotten that you\r\nwere men? Good! Very good. There will be fewer bellies to feed.' Sitka\r\nCharley retied the flour as he spoke, strapping the pack to the one on\r\nhis own back. He kicked Joe till the pain broke through the poor\r\ndevil's bliss and brought him doddering to his feet. Then he shoved him\r\nout upon the trail and started him on his way. The two Indians\r\nattempted to slip off.\r\n\r\n'Hold, Gowhee! And thou, too, Kah-Chucte! Hath the flour given such\r\nstrength to thy legs that they may outrun the swift-winged lead? Think\r\nnot to cheat the law. Be men for the last time, and be content that ye\r\ndie full-stomached.\r\n\r\nCome, step up, back to the timber, shoulder to shoulder. Come!' The two\r\nmen obeyed, quietly, without fear; for it is the future which pressed\r\nupon the man, not the present.\r\n\r\n'Thou, Gowhee, hast a wife and children and a deerskin lodge in the\r\nChipewyan. What is thy will in the matter?' 'Give thou her of the goods\r\nwhich are mine by the word of the captain--the blankets, the beads, the\r\ntobacco, the box which makes strange sounds after the manner of the\r\nwhite men. Say that I did die on the trail, but say not how.' 'And\r\nthou, Kah-Chucte, who hast nor wife nor child?' 'Mine is a sister, the\r\nwife of the factor at Koshim. He beats her, and she is not happy. Give\r\nthou her the goods which are mine by the contract, and tell her it were\r\nwell she go back to her own people. Shouldst thou meet the man, and be\r\nso minded, it were a good deed that he should die. He beats her, and\r\nshe is afraid.' 'Are ye content to die by the law?' 'We are.' 'Then\r\ngood-bye, my good comrades. May ye sit by the well-filled pot, in warm\r\nlodges, ere the day is done.' As he spoke he raised his rifle, and many\r\nechoes broke the silence. Hardly had they died away when other rifles\r\nspoke in the distance. Sitka Charley started.\r\n\r\nThere had been more than one shot, yet there was but one other rifle in\r\nthe party.\r\n\r\nHe gave a fleeting glance at the men who lay so quietly, smiled\r\nviciously at the wisdom of the trail, and hurried on to meet the men of\r\nthe Yukon.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nThe Wife of a King\r\n\r\nOnce when the northland was very young, the social and civic virtues\r\nwere remarkably alike for their paucity and their simplicity. When the\r\nburden of domestic duties grew grievous, and the fireside mood expanded\r\nto a constant protest against its bleak loneliness, the adventurers\r\nfrom the Southland, in lieu of better, paid the stipulated prices and\r\ntook unto themselves native wives. It was a foretaste of Paradise to\r\nthe women, for it must be confessed that the white rovers gave far\r\nbetter care and treatment of them than did their Indian copartners. Of\r\ncourse, the white men themselves were satisfied with such deals, as\r\nwere also the Indian men for that matter. Having sold their daughters\r\nand sisters for cotton blankets and obsolete rifles and traded their\r\nwarm furs for flimsy calico and bad whisky, the sons of the soil\r\npromptly and cheerfully succumbed to quick consumption and other swift\r\ndiseases correlated with the blessings of a superior civilization.\r\n\r\nIt was in these days of Arcadian simplicity that Cal Galbraith\r\njourneyed through the land and fell sick on the Lower River. It was a\r\nrefreshing advent in the lives of the good Sisters of the Holy Cross,\r\nwho gave him shelter and medicine; though they little dreamed of the\r\nhot elixir infused into his veins by the touch of their soft hands and\r\ntheir gentle ministrations. Cal Galbraith, became troubled with strange\r\nthoughts which clamored for attention till he laid eyes on the Mission\r\ngirl, Madeline. Yet he gave no sign, biding his time patiently. He\r\nstrengthened with the coming spring, and when the sun rode the heavens\r\nin a golden circle, and the joy and throb of life was in all the land,\r\nhe gathered his still weak body together and departed.\r\n\r\nNow, Madeline, the Mission girl, was an orphan. Her white father had\r\nfailed to give a bald-faced grizzly the trail one day, and had died\r\nquickly. Then her Indian mother, having no man to fill the winter\r\ncache, had tried the hazardous experiment of waiting till the\r\nsalmon-run on fifty pounds of flour and half as many of bacon. After\r\nthat, the baby, Chook-ra, went to live with the good Sisters, and to be\r\nthenceforth known by another name.\r\n\r\nBut Madeline still had kinsfolk, the nearest being a dissolute uncle\r\nwho outraged his vitals with inordinate quantities of the white man's\r\nwhisky. He strove daily to walk with the gods, and incidentally, his\r\nfeet sought shorter trails to the grave. When sober he suffered\r\nexquisite torture. He had no conscience. To this ancient vagabond Cal\r\nGalbraith duly presented himself, and they consumed many words and much\r\ntobacco in the conversation that followed. Promises were also made; and\r\nin the end the old heathen took a few pounds of dried salmon and his\r\nbirch-bark canoe, and paddled away to the Mission of the Holy Cross.\r\n\r\nIt is not given the world to know what promises he made and what lies\r\nhe told--the Sisters never gossip; but when he returned, upon his\r\nswarthy chest there was a brass crucifix, and in his canoe his niece\r\nMadeline. That night there was a grand wedding and a potlach; so that\r\nfor two days to follow there was no fishing done by the village. But in\r\nthe morning Madeline shook the dust of the Lower River from her\r\nmoccasins, and with her husband, in a poling-boat, went to live on the\r\nUpper River in a place known as the Lower Country. And in the years\r\nwhich followed she was a good wife, sharing her husband's hardships and\r\ncooking his food. And she kept him in straight trails, till he learned\r\nto save his dust and to work mightily. In the end, he struck it rich\r\nand built a cabin in Circle City; and his happiness was such that men\r\nwho came to visit him in his home-circle became restless at the sight\r\nof it and envied him greatly.\r\n\r\nBut the Northland began to mature and social amenities to make their\r\nappearance.\r\n\r\nHitherto, the Southland had sent forth its sons; but it now belched\r\nforth a new exodus--this time of its daughters. Sisters and wives they\r\nwere not; but they did not fail to put new ideas in the heads of the\r\nmen, and to elevate the tone of things in ways peculiarly their own. No\r\nmore did the squaws gather at the dances, go roaring down the center in\r\nthe good, old Virginia reels, or make merry with jolly 'Dan Tucker.'\r\nThey fell back on their natural stoicism and uncomplainingly watched\r\nthe rule of their white sisters from their cabins.\r\n\r\nThen another exodus came over the mountains from the prolific Southland.\r\n\r\nThis time it was of women that became mighty in the land. Their word\r\nwas law; their law was steel. They frowned upon the Indian wives, while\r\nthe other women became mild and walked humbly. There were cowards who\r\nbecame ashamed of their ancient covenants with the daughters of the\r\nsoil, who looked with a new distaste upon their dark-skinned children;\r\nbut there were also others--men--who remained true and proud of their\r\naboriginal vows. When it became the fashion to divorce the native\r\nwives. Cal Galbraith retained his manhood, and in so doing felt the\r\nheavy hand of the women who had come last, knew least, but who ruled\r\nthe land.\r\n\r\nOne day, the Upper Country, which lies far above Circle City, was\r\npronounced rich. Dog-teams carried the news to Salt Water; golden\r\nargosies freighted the lure across the North Pacific; wires and cables\r\nsang with the tidings; and the world heard for the first time of the\r\nKlondike River and the Yukon Country. Cal Galbraith had lived the years\r\nquietly. He had been a good husband to Madeline, and she had blessed\r\nhim. But somehow discontent fell upon him; he felt vague yearnings for\r\nhis own kind, for the life he had been shut out from--a general sort of\r\ndesire, which men sometimes feel, to break out and taste the prime of\r\nliving. Besides, there drifted down the river wild rumors of the\r\nwonderful El Dorado, glowing descriptions of the city of logs and\r\ntents, and ludicrous accounts of the che-cha-quas who had rushed in and\r\nwere stampeding the whole country.\r\n\r\nCircle City was dead. The world had moved on up river and become a new\r\nand most marvelous world.\r\n\r\nCal Galbraith grew restless on the edge of things, and wished to see\r\nwith his own eyes.\r\n\r\nSo, after the wash-up, he weighed in a couple of hundred pounds of dust\r\non the Company's big scales, and took a draft for the same on Dawson.\r\nThen he put Tom Dixon in charge of his mines, kissed Madeline good-by,\r\npromised to be back before the first mush-ice ran, and took passage on\r\nan up-river steamer.\r\n\r\nMadeline waited, waited through all the three months of daylight. She\r\nfed the dogs, gave much of her time to Young Cal, watched the short\r\nsummer fade away and the sun begin its long journey to the south. And\r\nshe prayed much in the manner of the Sisters of the Holy Cross. The\r\nfall came, and with it there was mush-ice on the Yukon, and Circle City\r\nkings returning to the winter's work at their mines, but no Cal\r\nGalbraith. Tom Dixon received a letter, however, for his men sledded up\r\nher winter's supply of dry pine. The Company received a letter for its\r\ndogteams filled her cache with their best provisions, and she was told\r\nthat her credit was limitless.\r\n\r\nThrough all the ages man has been held the chief instigator of the woes\r\nof woman; but in this case the men held their tongues and swore harshly\r\nat one of their number who was away, while the women failed utterly to\r\nemulate them. So, without needless delay, Madeline heard strange tales\r\nof Cal Galbraith's doings; also, of a certain Greek dancer who played\r\nwith men as children did with bubbles. Now Madeline was an Indian\r\nwoman, and further, she had no woman friend to whom to go for wise\r\ncounsel. She prayed and planned by turns, and that night, being quick\r\nof resolve and action, she harnessed the dogs, and with Young Cal\r\nsecurely lashed to the sled, stole away.\r\n\r\nThough the Yukon still ran free, the eddy-ice was growing, and each day\r\nsaw the river dwindling to a slushy thread. Save him who has done the\r\nlike, no man may know what she endured in traveling a hundred miles on\r\nthe rim-ice; nor may they understand the toil and hardship of breaking\r\nthe two hundred miles of packed ice which remained after the river\r\nfroze for good. But Madeline was an Indian woman, so she did these\r\nthings, and one night there came a knock at Malemute Kid's door.\r\nThereat he fed a team of starving dogs, put a healthy youngster to bed,\r\nand turned his attention to an exhausted woman. He removed her icebound\r\nmoccasins while he listened to her tale, and stuck the point of his\r\nknife into her feet that he might see how far they were frozen.\r\n\r\nDespite his tremendous virility, Malemute Kid was possessed of a\r\nsofter, womanly element, which could win the confidence of a snarling\r\nwolf-dog or draw confessions from the most wintry heart. Nor did he\r\nseek them. Hearts opened to him as spontaneously as flowers to the sun.\r\nEven the priest, Father Roubeau, had been known to confess to him,\r\nwhile the men and women of the Northland were ever knocking at his\r\ndoor--a door from which the latch-string hung always out. To Madeline,\r\nhe could do no wrong, make no mistake. She had known him from the time\r\nshe first cast her lot among the people of her father's race; and to\r\nher half-barbaric mind it seemed that in him was centered the wisdom of\r\nthe ages, that between his vision and the future there could be no\r\nintervening veil.\r\n\r\nThere were false ideals in the land. The social strictures of Dawson\r\nwere not synonymous with those of the previous era, and the swift\r\nmaturity of the Northland involved much wrong. Malemute Kid was aware\r\nof this, and he had Cal Galbraith's measure accurately.\r\n\r\nHe knew a hasty word was the father of much evil; besides, he was\r\nminded to teach a great lesson and bring shame upon the man. So Stanley\r\nPrince, the young mining expert, was called into the conference the\r\nfollowing night as was also Lucky Jack Harrington and his violin. That\r\nsame night, Bettles, who owed a great debt to Malemute Kid, harnessed\r\nup Cal Galbraith's dogs, lashed Cal Galbraith, Junior, to the sled, and\r\nslipped away in the dark for Stuart River.\r\n\r\n\r\nII\r\n\r\n'So; one--two--three, one--two--three. Now reverse! No, no! Start up\r\nagain, Jack. See--this way.' Prince executed the movement as one should\r\nwho has led the cotillion.\r\n\r\n'Now; one--two--three, one--two--three. Reverse! Ah! that's better. Try\r\nit again. I say, you know, you mustn't look at your feet.\r\nOne--two--three, one--two--three. Shorter steps! You are not hanging to\r\nthe gee-pole just now. Try it over.\r\n\r\n'There! that's the way. One--two--three, one--two--three.' Round and\r\nround went Prince and Madeline in an interminable waltz. The table and\r\nstools had been shoved over against the wall to increase the room.\r\nMalemute Kid sat on the bunk, chin to knees, greatly interested. Jack\r\nHarrington sat beside him, scraping away on his violin and following\r\nthe dancers.\r\n\r\nIt was a unique situation, the undertaking of these three men with the\r\nwoman.\r\n\r\nThe most pathetic part, perhaps, was the businesslike way in which they\r\nwent about it.\r\n\r\nNo athlete was ever trained more rigidly for a coming contest, nor\r\nwolf-dog for the harness, than was she. But they had good material, for\r\nMadeline, unlike most women of her race, in her childhood had escaped\r\nthe carrying of heavy burdens and the toil of the trail. Besides, she\r\nwas a clean-limbed, willowy creature, possessed of much grace which had\r\nnot hitherto been realized. It was this grace which the men strove to\r\nbring out and knock into shape.\r\n\r\n'Trouble with her she learned to dance all wrong,' Prince remarked to\r\nthe bunk after having deposited his breathless pupil on the table.\r\n'She's quick at picking up; yet I could do better had she never danced\r\na step. But say, Kid, I can't understand this.' Prince imitated a\r\npeculiar movement of the shoulders and head--a weakness Madeline\r\nsuffered from in walking.\r\n\r\n'Lucky for her she was raised in the Mission,' Malemute Kid answered.\r\n'Packing, you know,--the head-strap. Other Indian women have it bad,\r\nbut she didn't do any packing till after she married, and then only at\r\nfirst. Saw hard lines with that husband of hers. They went through the\r\nForty-Mile famine together.' 'But can we break it?' 'Don't know.\r\n\r\n'Perhaps long walks with her trainers will make the riffle. Anyway,\r\nthey'll take it out some, won't they, Madeline?' The girl nodded\r\nassent. If Malemute Kid, who knew all things, said so, why it was so.\r\nThat was all there was about it.\r\n\r\nShe had come over to them, anxious to begin again. Harrington surveyed\r\nher in quest of her points much in the same manner men usually do\r\nhorses. It certainly was not disappointing, for he asked with sudden\r\ninterest, 'What did that beggarly uncle of yours get anyway?' 'One\r\nrifle, one blanket, twenty bottles of hooch. Rifle broke.' She said\r\nthis last scornfully, as though disgusted at how low her maiden-value\r\nhad been rated.\r\n\r\nShe spoke fair English, with many peculiarities of her husband's\r\nspeech, but there was still perceptible the Indian accent, the\r\ntraditional groping after strange gutturals. Even this her instructors\r\nhad taken in hand, and with no small success, too.\r\n\r\nAt the next intermission, Prince discovered a new predicament.\r\n\r\n'I say, Kid,' he said, 'we're wrong, all wrong. She can't learn in\r\nmoccasins.\r\n\r\n'Put her feet into slippers, and then onto that waxed floor--phew!'\r\nMadeline raised a foot and regarded her shapeless house-moccasins\r\ndubiously. In previous winters, both at Circle City and Forty-Mile, she\r\nhad danced many a night away with similar footgear, and there had been\r\nnothing the matter.\r\n\r\nBut now--well, if there was anything wrong it was for Malemute Kid to\r\nknow, not her.\r\n\r\nBut Malemute Kid did know, and he had a good eye for measures; so he\r\nput on his cap and mittens and went down the hill to pay Mrs.\r\nEppingwell a call. Her husband, Clove Eppingwell, was prominent in the\r\ncommunity as one of the great Government officials.\r\n\r\nThe Kid had noted her slender little foot one night, at the Governor's\r\nBall. And as he also knew her to be as sensible as she was pretty, it\r\nwas no task to ask of her a certain small favor.\r\n\r\nOn his return, Madeline withdrew for a moment to the inner room. When\r\nshe reappeared Prince was startled.\r\n\r\n'By Jove!' he gasped. 'Who'd a' thought it! The little witch! Why my\r\nsister--' 'Is an English girl,' interrupted Malemute Kid, 'with an\r\nEnglish foot. This girl comes of a small-footed race. Moccasins just\r\nbroadened her feet healthily, while she did not misshape them by\r\nrunning with the dogs in her childhood.' But this explanation failed\r\nutterly to allay Prince's admiration. Harrington's commercial instinct\r\nwas touched, and as he looked upon the exquisitely turned foot and\r\nankle, there ran through his mind the sordid list--'One rifle, one\r\nblanket, twenty bottles of hooch.' Madeline was the wife of a king, a\r\nking whose yellow treasure could buy outright a score of fashion's\r\npuppets; yet in all her life her feet had known no gear save red-tanned\r\nmoosehide. At first she had looked in awe at the tiny white-satin\r\nslippers; but she had quickly understood the admiration which shone,\r\nmanlike, in the eyes of the men. Her face flushed with pride. For the\r\nmoment she was drunken with her woman's loveliness; then she murmured,\r\nwith increased scorn, 'And one rifle, broke!' So the training went on.\r\nEvery day Malemute Kid led the girl out on long walks devoted to the\r\ncorrection of her carriage and the shortening of her stride.\r\n\r\nThere was little likelihood of her identity being discovered, for Cal\r\nGalbraith and the rest of the Old-Timers were like lost children among\r\nthe many strangers who had rushed into the land. Besides, the frost of\r\nthe North has a bitter tongue, and the tender women of the South, to\r\nshield their cheeks from its biting caresses, were prone to the use of\r\ncanvas masks. With faces obscured and bodies lost in squirrel-skin\r\nparkas, a mother and daughter, meeting on trail, would pass as\r\nstrangers.\r\n\r\nThe coaching progressed rapidly. At first it had been slow, but later a\r\nsudden acceleration had manifested itself. This began from the moment\r\nMadeline tried on the white-satin slippers, and in so doing found\r\nherself. The pride of her renegade father, apart from any natural\r\nself-esteem she might possess, at that instant received its birth.\r\nHitherto, she had deemed herself a woman of an alien breed, of inferior\r\nstock, purchased by her lord's favor. Her husband had seemed to her a\r\ngod, who had lifted her, through no essential virtues on her part, to\r\nhis own godlike level. But she had never forgotten, even when Young Cal\r\nwas born, that she was not of his people. As he had been a god, so had\r\nhis womenkind been goddesses. She might have contrasted herself with\r\nthem, but she had never compared.\r\n\r\nIt might have been that familiarity bred contempt; however, be that as\r\nit may, she had ultimately come to understand these roving white men,\r\nand to weigh them.\r\n\r\nTrue, her mind was dark to deliberate analysis, but she yet possessed\r\nher woman's clarity of vision in such matters. On the night of the\r\nslippers she had measured the bold, open admiration of her three\r\nman-friends; and for the first time comparison had suggested itself. It\r\nwas only a foot and an ankle, but--but comparison could not, in the\r\nnature of things, cease at that point. She judged herself by their\r\nstandards till the divinity of her white sisters was shattered. After\r\nall, they were only women, and why should she not exalt herself to\r\ntheir midst? In doing these things she learned where she lacked and\r\nwith the knowledge of her weakness came her strength. And so mightily\r\ndid she strive that her three trainers often marveled late into the\r\nnight over the eternal mystery of woman.\r\n\r\nIn this way Thanksgiving Night drew near. At irregular intervals\r\nBettles sent word down from Stuart River regarding the welfare of Young\r\nCal. The time of their return was approaching. More than once a casual\r\ncaller, hearing dance-music and the rhythmic pulse of feet, entered,\r\nonly to find Harrington scraping away and the other two beating time or\r\narguing noisily over a mooted step. Madeline was never in evidence,\r\nhaving precipitately fled to the inner room.\r\n\r\nOn one of these nights Cal Galbraith dropped in. Encouraging news had\r\njust come down from Stuart River, and Madeline had surpassed\r\nherself--not in walk alone, and carriage and grace, but in womanly\r\nroguishness. They had indulged in sharp repartee and she had defended\r\nherself brilliantly; and then, yielding to the intoxication of the\r\nmoment, and of her own power, she had bullied, and mastered, and\r\nwheedled, and patronized them with most astonishing success. And\r\ninstinctively, involuntarily, they had bowed, not to her beauty, her\r\nwisdom, her wit, but to that indefinable something in woman to which\r\nman yields yet cannot name.\r\n\r\nThe room was dizzy with sheer delight as she and Prince whirled through\r\nthe last dance of the evening. Harrington was throwing in inconceivable\r\nflourishes, while Malemute Kid, utterly abandoned, had seized the broom\r\nand was executing mad gyrations on his own account.\r\n\r\nAt this instant the door shook with a heavy rap-rap, and their quick\r\nglances noted the lifting of the latch. But they had survived similar\r\nsituations before. Harrington never broke a note. Madeline shot through\r\nthe waiting door to the inner room. The broom went hurtling under the\r\nbunk, and by the time Cal Galbraith and Louis Savoy got their heads in,\r\nMalemute Kid and Prince were in each other's arms, wildly schottisching\r\ndown the room.\r\n\r\nAs a rule, Indian women do not make a practice of fainting on\r\nprovocation, but Madeline came as near to it as she ever had in her\r\nlife. For an hour she crouched on the floor, listening to the heavy\r\nvoices of the men rumbling up and down in mimic thunder. Like familiar\r\nchords of childhood melodies, every intonation, every trick of her\r\nhusband's voice swept in upon her, fluttering her heart and weakening\r\nher knees till she lay half-fainting against the door. It was well she\r\ncould neither see nor hear when he took his departure.\r\n\r\n'When do you expect to go back to Circle City?' Malemute Kid asked\r\nsimply.\r\n\r\n'Haven't thought much about it,' he replied. 'Don't think till after\r\nthe ice breaks.' 'And Madeline?'\r\n\r\nHe flushed at the question, and there was a quick droop to his eyes.\r\nMalemute Kid could have despised him for that, had he known men less.\r\nAs it was, his gorge rose against the wives and daughters who had come\r\ninto the land, and not satisfied with usurping the place of the native\r\nwomen, had put unclean thoughts in the heads of the men and made them\r\nashamed.\r\n\r\n'I guess she's all right,' the Circle City King answered hastily, and\r\nin an apologetic manner. 'Tom Dixon's got charge of my interests, you\r\nknow, and he sees to it that she has everything she wants.' Malemute\r\nKid laid hand upon his arm and hushed him suddenly. They had stepped\r\nwithout. Overhead, the aurora, a gorgeous wanton, flaunted miracles of\r\ncolor; beneath lay the sleeping town. Far below, a solitary dog gave\r\ntongue.\r\n\r\nThe King again began to speak, but the Kid pressed his hand for\r\nsilence. The sound multiplied. Dog after dog took up the strain till\r\nthe full-throated chorus swayed the night.\r\n\r\nTo him who hears for the first time this weird song, is told the first\r\nand greatest secret of the Northland; to him who has heard it often, it\r\nis the solemn knell of lost endeavor. It is the plaint of tortured\r\nsouls, for in it is invested the heritage of the North, the suffering\r\nof countless generations--the warning and the requiem to the world's\r\nestrays.\r\n\r\nCal Galbraith shivered slightly as it died away in half-caught sobs.\r\nThe Kid read his thoughts openly, and wandered back with him through\r\nall the weary days of famine and disease; and with him was also the\r\npatient Madeline, sharing his pains and perils, never doubting, never\r\ncomplaining. His mind's retina vibrated to a score of pictures, stern,\r\nclear-cut, and the hand of the past drew back with heavy fingers on his\r\nheart. It was the psychological moment. Malemute Kid was half-tempted\r\nto play his reserve card and win the game; but the lesson was too mild\r\nas yet, and he let it pass. The next instant they had gripped hands,\r\nand the King's beaded moccasins were drawing protests from the outraged\r\nsnow as he crunched down the hill.\r\n\r\nMadeline in collapse was another woman to the mischievous creature of\r\nan hour before, whose laughter had been so infectious and whose\r\nheightened color and flashing eyes had made her teachers for the while\r\nforget. Weak and nerveless, she sat in the chair just as she had been\r\ndropped there by Prince and Harrington.\r\n\r\nMalemute Kid frowned. This would never do. When the time of meeting her\r\nhusband came to hand, she must carry things off with high-handed\r\nimperiousness. It was very necessary she should do it after the manner\r\nof white women, else the victory would be no victory at all. So he\r\ntalked to her, sternly, without mincing of words, and initiated her\r\ninto the weaknesses of his own sex, till she came to understand what\r\nsimpletons men were after all, and why the word of their women was law.\r\n\r\nA few days before Thanksgiving Night, Malemute Kid made another call on\r\nMrs. Eppingwell. She promptly overhauled her feminine fripperies, paid\r\na protracted visit to the dry-goods department of the P. C. Company,\r\nand returned with the Kid to make Madeline's acquaintance. After that\r\ncame a period such as the cabin had never seen before, and what with\r\ncutting, and fitting, and basting, and stitching, and numerous other\r\nwonderful and unknowable things, the male conspirators were more often\r\nbanished the premises than not. At such times the Opera House opened\r\nits double storm-doors to them.\r\n\r\nSo often did they put their heads together, and so deeply did they\r\ndrink to curious toasts, that the loungers scented unknown creeks of\r\nincalculable richness, and it is known that several checha-quas and at\r\nleast one Old-Timer kept their stampeding packs stored behind the bar,\r\nready to hit the trail at a moment's notice.\r\n\r\nMrs. Eppingwell was a woman of capacity; so, when she turned Madeline\r\nover to her trainers on Thanksgiving Night she was so transformed that\r\nthey were almost afraid of her. Prince wrapped a Hudson Bay blanket\r\nabout her with a mock reverence more real than feigned, while Malemute\r\nKid, whose arm she had taken, found it a severe trial to resume his\r\nwonted mentorship. Harrington, with the list of purchases still running\r\nthrough his head, dragged along in the rear, nor opened his mouth once\r\nall the way down into the town. When they came to the back door of the\r\nOpera House they took the blanket from Madeline's shoulders and spread\r\nit on the snow. Slipping out of Prince's moccasins, she stepped upon it\r\nin new satin slippers. The masquerade was at its height. She hesitated,\r\nbut they jerked open the door and shoved her in. Then they ran around\r\nto come in by the front entrance.\r\n\r\n\r\nIII\r\n\r\n'Where is Freda?' the Old-Timers questioned, while the che-cha-quas\r\nwere equally energetic in asking who Freda was. The ballroom buzzed\r\nwith her name.\r\n\r\nIt was on everybody's lips. Grizzled 'sour-dough boys,' day-laborers at\r\nthe mines but proud of their degree, either patronized the\r\nspruce-looking tenderfeet and lied eloquently--the 'sour-dough boys'\r\nbeing specially created to toy with truth--or gave them savage looks of\r\nindignation because of their ignorance. Perhaps forty kings of the\r\nUpper and Lower Countries were on the floor, each deeming himself hot\r\non the trail and sturdily backing his judgment with the yellow dust of\r\nthe realm. An assistant was sent to the man at the scales, upon whom\r\nhad fallen the burden of weighing up the sacks, while several of the\r\ngamblers, with the rules of chance at their finger-ends, made up\r\nalluring books on the field and favorites.\r\n\r\nWhich was Freda? Time and again the 'Greek Dancer' was thought to have\r\nbeen discovered, but each discovery brought panic to the betting ring\r\nand a frantic registering of new wagers by those who wished to hedge.\r\nMalemute Kid took an interest in the hunt, his advent being hailed\r\nuproariously by the revelers, who knew him to a man. The Kid had a good\r\neye for the trick of a step, and ear for the lilt of a voice, and his\r\nprivate choice was a marvelous creature who scintillated as the 'Aurora\r\nBorealis.' But the Greek dancer was too subtle for even his\r\npenetration. The majority of the gold-hunters seemed to have centered\r\ntheir verdict on the 'Russian Princess,' who was the most graceful in\r\nthe room, and hence could be no other than Freda Moloof.\r\n\r\nDuring a quadrille a roar of satisfaction went up. She was discovered.\r\nAt previous balls, in the figure, 'all hands round,' Freda had\r\ndisplayed an inimitable step and variation peculiarly her own. As the\r\nfigure was called, the 'Russian Princess' gave the unique rhythm to\r\nlimb and body. A chorus of I-told-you-so's shook the squared\r\nroof-beams, when lo! it was noticed that 'Aurora Borealis' and another\r\nmasque, the 'Spirit of the Pole,' were performing the same trick\r\nequally well. And when two twin 'Sun-Dogs' and a 'Frost Queen' followed\r\nsuit, a second assistant was dispatched to the aid of the man at the\r\nscales.\r\n\r\nBettles came off trail in the midst of the excitement, descending upon\r\nthem in a hurricane of frost. His rimed brows turned to cataracts as he\r\nwhirled about; his mustache, still frozen, seemed gemmed with diamonds\r\nand turned the light in varicolored rays; while the flying feet slipped\r\non the chunks of ice which rattled from his moccasins and German socks.\r\nA Northland dance is quite an informal affair, the men of the creeks\r\nand trails having lost whatever fastidiousness they might have at one\r\ntime possessed; and only in the high official circles are conventions\r\nat all observed. Here, caste carried no significance. Millionaires and\r\npaupers, dog-drivers and mounted policemen joined hands with 'ladies in\r\nthe center,' and swept around the circle performing most remarkable\r\ncapers. Primitive in their pleasure, boisterous and rough, they\r\ndisplayed no rudeness, but rather a crude chivalry more genuine than\r\nthe most polished courtesy.\r\n\r\nIn his quest for the 'Greek Dancer,' Cal Galbraith managed to get into\r\nthe same set with the 'Russian Princess,' toward whom popular suspicion\r\nhad turned.\r\n\r\nBut by the time he had guided her through one dance, he was willing not\r\nonly to stake his millions that she was not Freda, but that he had had\r\nhis arm about her waist before. When or where he could not tell, but\r\nthe puzzling sense of familiarity so wrought upon him that he turned\r\nhis attention to the discovery of her identity. Malemute Kid might have\r\naided him instead of occasionally taking the Princess for a few turns\r\nand talking earnestly to her in low tones. But it was Jack Harrington\r\nwho paid the 'Russian Princess' the most assiduous court. Once he drew\r\nCal Galbraith aside and hazarded wild guesses as to who she was, and\r\nexplained to him that he was going in to win. That rankled the Circle\r\nCity King, for man is not by nature monogamic, and he forgot both\r\nMadeline and Freda in the new quest.\r\n\r\nIt was soon noised about that the 'Russian Princess' was not Freda\r\nMoloof. Interest deepened. Here was a fresh enigma. They knew Freda\r\nthough they could not find her, but here was somebody they had found\r\nand did not know. Even the women could not place her, and they knew\r\nevery good dancer in the camp. Many took her for one of the official\r\nclique, indulging in a silly escapade. Not a few asserted she would\r\ndisappear before the unmasking. Others were equally positive that she\r\nwas the woman-reporter of the Kansas City Star, come to write them up\r\nat ninety dollars per column. And the men at the scales worked busily.\r\n\r\nAt one o'clock every couple took to the floor. The unmasking began amid\r\nlaughter and delight, like that of carefree children. There was no end\r\nof Oh's and Ah's as mask after mask was lifted. The scintillating\r\n'Aurora Borealis' became the brawny negress whose income from washing\r\nthe community's clothes ran at about five hundred a month. The twin\r\n'Sun-Dogs' discovered mustaches on their upper lips, and were\r\nrecognized as brother Fraction-Kings of El Dorado. In one of the most\r\nprominent sets, and the slowest in uncovering, was Cal Galbraith with\r\nthe 'Spirit of the Pole.' Opposite him was Jack Harrington and the\r\n'Russian Princess.' The rest had discovered themselves, yet the 'Greek\r\nDancer' was still missing. All eyes were upon the group. Cal Galbraith,\r\nin response to their cries, lifted his partner's mask. Freda's\r\nwonderful face and brilliant eyes flashed out upon them. A roar went\r\nup, to be squelched suddenly in the new and absorbing mystery of the\r\n'Russian Princess.' Her face was still hidden, and Jack Harrington was\r\nstruggling with her. The dancers tittered on the tiptoes of expectancy.\r\nHe crushed her dainty costume roughly, and then--and then the revelers\r\nexploded. The joke was on them. They had danced all night with a\r\ntabooed native woman.\r\n\r\nBut those that knew, and they were many, ceased abruptly, and a hush\r\nfell upon the room.\r\n\r\nCal Galbraith crossed over with great strides, angrily, and spoke to\r\nMadeline in polyglot Chinook. But she retained her composure,\r\napparently oblivious to the fact that she was the cynosure of all eyes,\r\nand answered him in English. She showed neither fright nor anger, and\r\nMalemute Kid chuckled at her well-bred equanimity. The King felt\r\nbaffled, defeated; his common Siwash wife had passed beyond him.\r\n\r\n'Come!' he said finally. 'Come on home.' 'I beg pardon,' she replied;\r\n'I have agreed to go to supper with Mr. Harrington. Besides, there's no\r\nend of dances promised.'\r\n\r\nHarrington extended his arm to lead her away. He evinced not the\r\nslightest disinclination toward showing his back, but Malemute Kid had\r\nby this time edged in closer. The Circle City King was stunned. Twice\r\nhis hand dropped to his belt, and twice the Kid gathered himself to\r\nspring; but the retreating couple passed through the supper-room door\r\nwhere canned oysters were spread at five dollars the plate.\r\n\r\nThe crowd sighed audibly, broke up into couples, and followed them.\r\nFreda pouted and went in with Cal Galbraith; but she had a good heart\r\nand a sure tongue, and she spoiled his oysters for him. What she said\r\nis of no importance, but his face went red and white at intervals, and\r\nhe swore repeatedly and savagely at himself.\r\n\r\nThe supper-room was filled with a pandemonium of voices, which ceased\r\nsuddenly as Cal Galbraith stepped over to his wife's table. Since the\r\nunmasking considerable weights of dust had been placed as to the\r\noutcome. Everybody watched with breathless interest.\r\n\r\nHarrington's blue eyes were steady, but under the overhanging\r\ntablecloth a Smith & Wesson balanced on his knee. Madeline looked up,\r\ncasually, with little interest.\r\n\r\n'May--may I have the next round dance with you?' the King stuttered.\r\n\r\nThe wife of the King glanced at her card and inclined her head.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nAn Odyssey of the North\r\n\r\nThe sleds were singing their eternal lament to the creaking of the\r\nharness and the tinkling bells of the leaders; but the men and dogs\r\nwere tired and made no sound. The trail was heavy with new-fallen snow,\r\nand they had come far, and the runners, burdened with flint-like\r\nquarters of frozen moose, clung tenaciously to the unpacked surface and\r\nheld back with a stubbornness almost human.\r\n\r\nDarkness was coming on, but there was no camp to pitch that night. The\r\nsnow fell gently through the pulseless air, not in flakes, but in tiny\r\nfrost crystals of delicate design. It was very warm--barely ten below\r\nzero--and the men did not mind. Meyers and Bettles had raised their ear\r\nflaps, while Malemute Kid had even taken off his mittens.\r\n\r\nThe dogs had been fagged out early in the after noon, but they now\r\nbegan to show new vigor. Among the more astute there was a certain\r\nrestlessness--an impatience at the restraint of the traces, an\r\nindecisive quickness of movement, a sniffing of snouts and pricking of\r\nears. These became incensed at their more phlegmatic brothers, urging\r\nthem on with numerous sly nips on their hinder quarters. Those, thus\r\nchidden, also contracted and helped spread the contagion. At last the\r\nleader of the foremost sled uttered a sharp whine of satisfaction,\r\ncrouching lower in the snow and throwing himself against the collar.\r\nThe rest followed suit.\r\n\r\nThere was an ingathering of back hands, a tightening of traces; the\r\nsleds leaped forward, and the men clung to the gee poles, violently\r\naccelerating the uplift of their feet that they might escape going\r\nunder the runners. The weariness of the day fell from them, and they\r\nwhooped encouragement to the dogs. The animals responded with joyous\r\nyelps. They were swinging through the gathering darkness at a rattling\r\ngallop.\r\n\r\n'Gee! Gee!' the men cried, each in turn, as their sleds abruptly left\r\nthe main trail, heeling over on single runners like luggers on the wind.\r\n\r\nThen came a hundred yards' dash to the lighted parchment window, which\r\ntold its own story of the home cabin, the roaring Yukon stove, and the\r\nsteaming pots of tea. But the home cabin had been invaded. Threescore\r\nhuskies chorused defiance, and as many furry forms precipitated\r\nthemselves upon the dogs which drew the first sled. The door was flung\r\nopen, and a man, clad in the scarlet tunic of the Northwest Police,\r\nwaded knee-deep among the furious brutes, calmly and impartially\r\ndispensing soothing justice with the butt end of a dog whip. After that\r\nthe men shook hands; and in this wise was Malemute Kid welcomed to his\r\nown cabin by a stranger.\r\n\r\nStanley Prince, who should have welcomed him, and who was responsible\r\nfor the Yukon stove and hot tea aforementioned, was busy with his\r\nguests. There were a dozen or so of them, as nondescript a crowd as\r\never served the Queen in the enforcement of her laws or the delivery of\r\nher mails. They were of many breeds, but their common life had formed\r\nof them a certain type--a lean and wiry type, with trail-hardened\r\nmuscles, and sun-browned faces, and untroubled souls which gazed\r\nfrankly forth, clear-eyed and steady.\r\n\r\nThey drove the dogs of the Queen, wrought fear in the hearts of her\r\nenemies, ate of her meager fare, and were happy. They had seen life,\r\nand done deeds, and lived romances; but they did not know it.\r\n\r\nAnd they were very much at home. Two of them were sprawled upon\r\nMalemute Kid's bunk, singing chansons which their French forebears sang\r\nin the days when first they entered the Northwest land and mated with\r\nits Indian women. Bettles' bunk had suffered a similar invasion, and\r\nthree or four lusty voyageurs worked their toes among its blankets as\r\nthey listened to the tale of one who had served on the boat brigade\r\nwith Wolseley when he fought his way to Khartoum.\r\n\r\nAnd when he tired, a cowboy told of courts and kings and lords and\r\nladies he had seen when Buffalo Bill toured the capitals of Europe. In\r\na corner two half-breeds, ancient comrades in a lost campaign, mended\r\nharnesses and talked of the days when the Northwest flamed with\r\ninsurrection and Louis Riel was king.\r\n\r\nRough jests and rougher jokes went up and down, and great hazards by\r\ntrail and river were spoken of in the light of commonplaces, only to be\r\nrecalled by virtue of some grain of humor or ludicrous happening.\r\nPrince was led away by these uncrowned heroes who had seen history\r\nmade, who regarded the great and the romantic as but the ordinary and\r\nthe incidental in the routine of life. He passed his precious tobacco\r\namong them with lavish disregard, and rusty chains of reminiscence were\r\nloosened, and forgotten odysseys resurrected for his especial benefit.\r\n\r\nWhen conversation dropped and the travelers filled the last pipes and\r\nlashed their tight-rolled sleeping furs. Prince fell back upon his\r\ncomrade for further information.\r\n\r\n'Well, you know what the cowboy is,' Malemute Kid answered, beginning\r\nto unlace his moccasins; 'and it's not hard to guess the British blood\r\nin his bed partner. As for the rest, they're all children of the\r\ncoureurs du bois, mingled with God knows how many other bloods. The two\r\nturning in by the door are the regulation 'breeds' or Boisbrules. That\r\nlad with the worsted breech scarf--notice his eyebrows and the turn of\r\nhis jaw--shows a Scotchman wept in his mother's smoky tepee. And that\r\nhandsome looking fellow putting the capote under his head is a French\r\nhalf-breed--you heard him talking; he doesn't like the two Indians\r\nturning in next to him. You see, when the 'breeds' rose under the Riel\r\nthe full-bloods kept the peace, and they've not lost much love for one\r\nanother since.' 'But I say, what's that glum-looking fellow by the\r\nstove? I'll swear he can't talk English. He hasn't opened his mouth all\r\nnight.' 'You're wrong. He knows English well enough. Did you follow his\r\neyes when he listened? I did. But he's neither kith nor kin to the\r\nothers. When they talked their own patois you could see he didn't\r\nunderstand. I've been wondering myself what he is. Let's find out.'\r\n'Fire a couple of sticks into the stove!'\r\n\r\nMalemute Kid commanded, raising his voice and looking squarely at the\r\nman in question.\r\n\r\nHe obeyed at once.\r\n\r\n'Had discipline knocked into him somewhere.' Prince commented in a low\r\ntone.\r\n\r\nMalemute Kid nodded, took off his socks, and picked his way among\r\nrecumbent men to the stove. There he hung his damp footgear among a\r\nscore or so of mates.\r\n\r\n'When do you expect to get to Dawson?' he asked tentatively.\r\n\r\nThe man studied him a moment before replying. 'They say seventy-five\r\nmile. So? Maybe two days.' The very slightest accent was perceptible,\r\nwhile there was no awkward hesitancy or groping for words.\r\n\r\n'Been in the country before?' 'No.' 'Northwest Territory?' 'Yes.' 'Born\r\nthere?' 'No.'\r\n\r\n'Well, where the devil were you born? You're none of these.' Malemute\r\nKid swept his hand over the dog drivers, even including the two\r\npolicemen who had turned into Prince's bunk. 'Where did you come from?\r\nI've seen faces like yours before, though I can't remember just where.'\r\n'I know you,' he irrelevantly replied, at once turning the drift of\r\nMalemute Kid's questions.\r\n\r\n'Where? Ever see me?' 'No; your partner, him priest, Pastilik, long\r\ntime ago. Him ask me if I see you, Malemute Kid. Him give me grub. I no\r\nstop long. You hear him speak 'bout me?' 'Oh! you're the fellow that\r\ntraded the otter skins for the dogs?' The man nodded, knocked out his\r\npipe, and signified his disinclination for conversation by rolling up\r\nin his furs. Malemute Kid blew out the slush lamp and crawled under the\r\nblankets with Prince.\r\n\r\n'Well, what is he?' 'Don't know--turned me off, somehow, and then shut\r\nup like a clam.\r\n\r\n'But he's a fellow to whet your curiosity. I've heard of him. All the\r\ncoast wondered about him eight years ago. Sort of mysterious, you know.\r\nHe came down out of the North in the dead of winter, many a thousand\r\nmiles from here, skirting Bering Sea and traveling as though the devil\r\nwere after him. No one ever learned where he came from, but he must\r\nhave come far. He was badly travel-worn when he got food from the\r\nSwedish missionary on Golovin Bay and asked the way south. We heard of\r\nall this afterward. Then he abandoned the shore line, heading right\r\nacross Norton Sound. Terrible weather, snowstorms and high winds, but\r\nhe pulled through where a thousand other men would have died, missing\r\nSt. Michaels and making the land at Pastilik. He'd lost all but two\r\ndogs, and was nearly gone with starvation.\r\n\r\n'He was so anxious to go on that Father Roubeau fitted him out with\r\ngrub; but he couldn't let him have any dogs, for he was only waiting my\r\narrival, to go on a trip himself. Mr. Ulysses knew too much to start on\r\nwithout animals, and fretted around for several days. He had on his\r\nsled a bunch of beautifully cured otter skins, sea otters, you know,\r\nworth their weight in gold. There was also at Pastilik an old Shylock\r\nof a Russian trader, who had dogs to kill. Well, they didn't dicker\r\nvery long, but when the Strange One headed south again, it was in the\r\nrear of a spanking dog team. Mr. Shylock, by the way, had the otter\r\nskins. I saw them, and they were magnificent. We figured it up and\r\nfound the dogs brought him at least five hundred apiece. And it wasn't\r\nas if the Strange One didn't know the value of sea otter; he was an\r\nIndian of some sort, and what little he talked showed he'd been among\r\nwhite men.\r\n\r\n'After the ice passed out of the sea, word came up from Nunivak Island\r\nthat he'd gone in there for grub. Then he dropped from sight, and this\r\nis the first heard of him in eight years. Now where did he come from?\r\nand what was he doing there? and why did he come from there? He's\r\nIndian, he's been nobody knows where, and he's had discipline, which is\r\nunusual for an Indian. Another mystery of the North for you to solve,\r\nPrince.' 'Thanks awfully, but I've got too many on hand as it is,' he\r\nreplied.\r\n\r\nMalemute Kid was already breathing heavily; but the young mining\r\nengineer gazed straight up through the thick darkness, waiting for the\r\nstrange orgasm which stirred his blood to die away. And when he did\r\nsleep, his brain worked on, and for the nonce he, too, wandered through\r\nthe white unknown, struggled with the dogs on endless trails, and saw\r\nmen live, and toil, and die like men. The next morning, hours before\r\ndaylight, the dog drivers and policemen pulled out for Dawson. But the\r\npowers that saw to Her Majesty's interests and ruled the destinies of\r\nher lesser creatures gave the mailmen little rest, for a week later\r\nthey appeared at Stuart River, heavily burdened with letters for Salt\r\nWater.\r\n\r\nHowever, their dogs had been replaced by fresh ones; but, then, they\r\nwere dogs.\r\n\r\nThe men had expected some sort of a layover in which to rest up;\r\nbesides, this Klondike was a new section of the Northland, and they had\r\nwished to see a little something of the Golden City where dust flowed\r\nlike water and dance halls rang with never-ending revelry. But they\r\ndried their socks and smoked their evening pipes with much the same\r\ngusto as on their former visit, though one or two bold spirits\r\nspeculated on desertion and the possibility of crossing the unexplored\r\nRockies to the east, and thence, by the Mackenzie Valley, of gaining\r\ntheir old stamping grounds in the Chippewyan country.\r\n\r\nTwo or three even decided to return to their homes by that route when\r\ntheir terms of service had expired, and they began to lay plans\r\nforthwith, looking forward to the hazardous undertaking in much the\r\nsame way a city-bred man would to a day's holiday in the woods.\r\n\r\nHe of the Otter Skins seemed very restless, though he took little\r\ninterest in the discussion, and at last he drew Malemute Kid to one\r\nside and talked for some time in low tones.\r\n\r\nPrince cast curious eyes in their direction, and the mystery deepened\r\nwhen they put on caps and mittens and went outside. When they returned,\r\nMalemute Kid placed his gold scales on the table, weighed out the\r\nmatter of sixty ounces, and transferred them to the Strange One's sack.\r\nThen the chief of the dog drivers joined the conclave, and certain\r\nbusiness was transacted with him.\r\n\r\nThe next day the gang went on upriver, but He of the Otter Skins took\r\nseveral pounds of grub and turned his steps back toward Dawson.\r\n\r\n'Didn't know what to make of it,' said Malemute Kid in response to\r\nPrince's queries; 'but the poor beggar wanted to be quit of the service\r\nfor some reason or other--at least it seemed a most important one to\r\nhim, though he wouldn't let on what. You see, it's just like the army:\r\nhe signed for two years, and the only way to get free was to buy\r\nhimself out. He couldn't desert and then stay here, and he was just\r\nwild to remain in the country.\r\n\r\n'Made up his mind when he got to Dawson, he said; but no one knew him,\r\nhadn't a cent, and I was the only one he'd spoken two words with. So he\r\ntalked it over with the lieutenant-governor, and made arrangements in\r\ncase he could get the money from me--loan, you know. Said he'd pay back\r\nin the year, and, if I wanted, would put me onto something rich.\r\nNever'd seen it, but he knew it was rich.\r\n\r\n'And talk! why, when he got me outside he was ready to weep. Begged and\r\npleaded; got down in the snow to me till I hauled him out of it.\r\nPalavered around like a crazy man.\r\n\r\n'Swore he's worked to this very end for years and years, and couldn't\r\nbear to be disappointed now. Asked him what end, but he wouldn't say.\r\n\r\n'Said they might keep him on the other half of the trail and he\r\nwouldn't get to Dawson in two years, and then it would be too late.\r\nNever saw a man take on so in my life. And when I said I'd let him have\r\nit, had to yank him out of the snow again. Told him to consider it in\r\nthe light of a grubstake. Think he'd have it? No sir! Swore he'd give\r\nme all he found, make me rich beyond the dreams of avarice, and all\r\nsuch stuff. Now a man who puts his life and time against a grubstake\r\nordinarily finds it hard enough to turn over half of what he finds.\r\nSomething behind all this, Prince; just you make a note of it. We'll\r\nhear of him if he stays in the country--' 'And if he doesn't?' 'Then my\r\ngood nature gets a shock, and I'm sixty some odd ounces out.' The cold\r\nweather had come on with the long nights, and the sun had begun to play\r\nhis ancient game of peekaboo along the southern snow line ere aught was\r\nheard of Malemute Kid's grubstake. And then, one bleak morning in early\r\nJanuary, a heavily laden dog train pulled into his cabin below Stuart\r\nRiver. He of the Otter Skins was there, and with him walked a man such\r\nas the gods have almost forgotten how to fashion. Men never talked of\r\nluck and pluck and five-hundred-dollar dirt without bringing in the\r\nname of Axel Gunderson; nor could tales of nerve or strength or daring\r\npass up and down the campfire without the summoning of his presence.\r\nAnd when the conversation flagged, it blazed anew at mention of the\r\nwoman who shared his fortunes.\r\n\r\nAs has been noted, in the making of Axel Gunderson the gods had\r\nremembered their old-time cunning and cast him after the manner of men\r\nwho were born when the world was young. Full seven feet he towered in\r\nhis picturesque costume which marked a king of Eldorado. His chest,\r\nneck, and limbs were those of a giant. To bear his three hundred pounds\r\nof bone and muscle, his snowshoes were greater by a generous yard than\r\nthose of other men. Rough-hewn, with rugged brow and massive jaw and\r\nunflinching eyes of palest blue, his face told the tale of one who knew\r\nbut the law of might. Of the yellow of ripe corn silk, his\r\nfrost-incrusted hair swept like day across the night and fell far down\r\nhis coat of bearskin.\r\n\r\nA vague tradition of the sea seemed to cling about him as he swung down\r\nthe narrow trail in advance of the dogs; and he brought the butt of his\r\ndog whip against Malemute Kid's door as a Norse sea rover, on southern\r\nforay, might thunder for admittance at the castle gate.\r\n\r\nPrince bared his womanly arms and kneaded sour-dough bread, casting, as\r\nhe did so, many a glance at the three guests--three guests the like of\r\nwhich might never come under a man's roof in a lifetime. The Strange\r\nOne, whom Malemute Kid had surnamed Ulysses, still fascinated him; but\r\nhis interest chiefly gravitated between Axel Gunderson and Axel\r\nGunderson's wife. She felt the day's journey, for she had softened in\r\ncomfortable cabins during the many days since her husband mastered the\r\nwealth of frozen pay streaks, and she was tired. She rested against his\r\ngreat breast like a slender flower against a wall, replying lazily to\r\nMalemute Kid's good-natured banter, and stirring Prince's blood\r\nstrangely with an occasional sweep of her deep, dark eyes. For Prince\r\nwas a man, and healthy, and had seen few women in many months. And she\r\nwas older than he, and an Indian besides. But she was different from\r\nall native wives he had met: she had traveled--had been in his country\r\namong others, he gathered from the conversation; and she knew most of\r\nthe things the women of his own race knew, and much more that it was\r\nnot in the nature of things for them to know. She could make a meal of\r\nsun-dried fish or a bed in the snow; yet she teased them with\r\ntantalizing details of many-course dinners, and caused strange internal\r\ndissensions to arise at the mention of various quondam dishes which\r\nthey had well-nigh forgotten. She knew the ways of the moose, the bear,\r\nand the little blue fox, and of the wild amphibians of the Northern\r\nseas; she was skilled in the lore of the woods, and the streams, and\r\nthe tale writ by man and bird and beast upon the delicate snow crust\r\nwas to her an open book; yet Prince caught the appreciative twinkle in\r\nher eye as she read the Rules of the Camp. These rules had been\r\nfathered by the Unquenchable Bettles at a time when his blood ran high,\r\nand were remarkable for the terse simplicity of their humor.\r\n\r\nPrince always turned them to the wall before the arrival of ladies; but\r\nwho could suspect that this native wife--Well, it was too late now.\r\n\r\nThis, then, was the wife of Axel Gunderson, a woman whose name and fame\r\nhad traveled with her husband's, hand in hand, through all the\r\nNorthland. At table, Malemute Kid baited her with the assurance of an\r\nold friend, and Prince shook off the shyness of first acquaintance and\r\njoined in. But she held her own in the unequal contest, while her\r\nhusband, slower in wit, ventured naught but applause. And he was very\r\nproud of her; his every look and action revealed the magnitude of the\r\nplace she occupied in his life. He of the Otter Skins ate in silence,\r\nforgotten in the merry battle; and long ere the others were done he\r\npushed back from the table and went out among the dogs. Yet all too\r\nsoon his fellow travelers drew on their mittens and parkas and followed\r\nhim.\r\n\r\nThere had been no snow for many days, and the sleds slipped along the\r\nhardpacked Yukon trail as easily as if it had been glare ice. Ulysses\r\nled the first sled; with the second came Prince and Axel Gunderson's\r\nwife; while Malemute Kid and the yellow-haired giant brought up the\r\nthird.\r\n\r\n'It's only a hunch, Kid,' he said, 'but I think it's straight. He's\r\nnever been there, but he tells a good story, and shows a map I heard of\r\nwhen I was in the Kootenay country years ago. I'd like to have you go\r\nalong; but he's a strange one, and swore point-blank to throw it up if\r\nanyone was brought in. But when I come back you'll get first tip, and\r\nI'll stake you next to me, and give you a half share in the town site\r\nbesides.' 'No! no!' he cried, as the other strove to interrupt. 'I'm\r\nrunning this, and before I'm done it'll need two heads.\r\n\r\n'If it's all right, why, it'll be a second Cripple Creek, man; do you\r\nhear?--a second Cripple Creek! It's quartz, you know, not placer; and\r\nif we work it right we'll corral the whole thing--millions upon\r\nmillions. I've heard of the place before, and so have you. We'll build\r\na town--thousands of workmen--good waterways--steamship lines--big\r\ncarrying trade--light-draught steamers for head reaches--survey a\r\nrailroad, perhaps--sawmills--electric-light plant--do our own\r\nbanking--commercial company--syndicate--Say! Just you hold your hush\r\ntill I get back!' The sleds came to a halt where the trail crossed the\r\nmouth of Stuart River. An unbroken sea of frost, its wide expanse\r\nstretched away into the unknown east.\r\n\r\nThe snowshoes were withdrawn from the lashings of the sleds. Axel\r\nGunderson shook hands and stepped to the fore, his great webbed shoes\r\nsinking a fair half yard into the feathery surface and packing the snow\r\nso the dogs should not wallow. His wife fell in behind the last sled,\r\nbetraying long practice in the art of handling the awkward footgear,\r\nThe stillness was broken with cheery farewells; the dogs whined; and He\r\nof the Otter Skins talked with his whip to a recalcitrant wheeler.\r\n\r\nAn hour later the train had taken on the likeness of a black pencil\r\ncrawling in a long, straight line across a mighty sheet of foolscap.\r\n\r\n\r\nII\r\n\r\nOne night, many weeks later, Malemute Kid and Prince fell to solving\r\nchess problems from the torn page of an ancient magazine. The Kid had\r\njust returned from his Bonanza properties and was resting up\r\npreparatory to a long moose hunt.\r\n\r\nPrince, too, had been on creek and trail nearly all winter, and had\r\ngrown hungry for a blissful week of cabin life.\r\n\r\n'Interpose the black knight, and force the king. No, that won't do.\r\nSee, the next move-'\r\n\r\n'Why advance the pawn two squares? Bound to take it in transit, and\r\nwith the bishop out of the way-' 'But hold on! That leaves a hole,\r\nand-' 'No; it's protected. Go ahead! You'll see it works.' It was very\r\ninteresting. Somebody knocked at the door a second time before Malemute\r\nKid said, 'Come in.' The door swung open. Something staggered in.\r\n\r\nPrince caught one square look and sprang to his feet. The horror in his\r\neyes caused Malemute Kid to whirl about; and he, too, was startled,\r\nthough he had seen bad things before. The thing tottered blindly toward\r\nthem. Prince edged away till he reached the nail from which hung his\r\nSmith & Wesson.\r\n\r\n'My God! what is it?' he whispered to Malemute Kid.\r\n\r\n'Don't know. Looks like a case of freezing and no grub,' replied the\r\nKid, sliding away in the opposite direction. 'Watch out! It may be\r\nmad,' he warned, coming back from closing the door.\r\n\r\nThe thing advanced to the table. The bright flame of the slush lamp\r\ncaught its eye. It was amused, and gave voice to eldritch cackles which\r\nbetokened mirth.\r\n\r\nThen, suddenly, he--for it was a man--swayed back, with a hitch to his\r\nskin trousers, and began to sing a chantey, such as men lift when they\r\nswing around the capstan circle and the sea snorts in their ears:\r\nYan-kee ship come down de ri-ib-er, Pull! my bully boys! Pull! D'yeh\r\nwant--to know de captain ru-uns her? Pull! my bully boys! Pull!\r\nJon-a-than Jones ob South Caho-li-in-a, Pull! my bully. He broke off\r\nabruptly, tottered with a wolfish snarl to the meat shelf, and before\r\nthey could intercept was tearing with his teeth at a chunk of raw\r\nbacon. The struggle was fierce between him and Malemute Kid; but his\r\nmad strength left him as suddenly as it had come, and he weakly\r\nsurrendered the spoil. Between them they got him upon a stool, where he\r\nsprawled with half his body across the table.\r\n\r\nA small dose of whiskey strengthened him, so that he could dip a spoon\r\ninto the sugar caddy which Malemute Kid placed before him. After his\r\nappetite had been somewhat cloyed, Prince, shuddering as he did so,\r\npassed him a mug of weak beef tea.\r\n\r\nThe creature's eyes were alight with a somber frenzy, which blazed and\r\nwaned with every mouthful. There was very little skin to the face. The\r\nface, for that matter, sunken and emaciated, bore little likeness to\r\nhuman countenance.\r\n\r\nFrost after frost had bitten deeply, each depositing its stratum of\r\nscab upon the half-healed scar that went before. This dry, hard surface\r\nwas of a bloody-black color, serrated by grievous cracks wherein the\r\nraw red flesh peeped forth. His skin garments were dirty and in\r\ntatters, and the fur of one side was singed and burned away, showing\r\nwhere he had lain upon his fire.\r\n\r\nMalemute Kid pointed to where the sun-tanned hide had been cut away,\r\nstrip by strip--the grim signature of famine.\r\n\r\n'Who--are--you?' slowly and distinctly enunciated the Kid.\r\n\r\nThe man paid no heed.\r\n\r\n'Where do you come from?' 'Yan-kee ship come down de ri-ib-er,' was the\r\nquavering response.\r\n\r\n'Don't doubt the beggar came down the river,' the Kid said, shaking him\r\nin an endeavor to start a more lucid flow of talk.\r\n\r\nBut the man shrieked at the contact, clapping a hand to his side in\r\nevident pain. He rose slowly to his feet, half leaning on the table.\r\n\r\n'She laughed at me--so--with the hate in her eye; and\r\nshe--would--not--come.' His voice died away, and he was sinking back\r\nwhen Malemute Kid gripped him by the wrist and shouted, 'Who? Who would\r\nnot come?' 'She, Unga. She laughed, and struck at me, so, and so. And\r\nthen-' 'Yes?'\r\n\r\n'And then--' 'And then what?' 'And then he lay very still in the snow a\r\nlong time. He is-still in--the--snow.' The two men looked at each other\r\nhelplessly.\r\n\r\n'Who is in the snow?' 'She, Unga. She looked at me with the hate in her\r\neye, and then--'\r\n\r\n'Yes, yes.' 'And then she took the knife, so; and once, twice--she was\r\nweak. I traveled very slow. And there is much gold in that place, very\r\nmuch gold.' 'Where is Unga?' For all Malemute Kid knew, she might be\r\ndying a mile away. He shook the man savagely, repeating again and\r\nagain, 'Where is Unga? Who is Unga?' 'She--is--in--the--snow.' 'Go on!'\r\nThe Kid was pressing his wrist cruelly.\r\n\r\n'So--I--would--be--in--the snow--but--I--had--a--debt--to--pay.\r\nIt--was--heavy--I--had--a-debt--to--pay--a--debt--to--pay I--had-' The\r\nfaltering monosyllables ceased as he fumbled in his pouch and drew\r\nforth a buckskin sack. 'A--debt--to--pay--five--pounds--of--gold-grub--\r\nstake--Mal--e--mute--Kid--I--y--' The exhausted head dropped upon the\r\ntable; nor could Malemute Kid rouse it again.\r\n\r\n'It's Ulysses,' he said quietly, tossing the bag of dust on the table.\r\n'Guess it's all day with Axel Gunderson and the woman. Come on, let's\r\nget him between the blankets. He's Indian; he'll pull through and tell\r\na tale besides.' As they cut his garments from him, near his right\r\nbreast could be seen two unhealed, hard-lipped knife thrusts.\r\n\r\n\r\nIII\r\n\r\n'I will talk of the things which were in my own way; but you will\r\nunderstand. I will begin at the beginning, and tell of myself and the\r\nwoman, and, after that, of the man.' He of the Otter Skins drew over to\r\nthe stove as do men who have been deprived of fire and are afraid the\r\nPromethean gift may vanish at any moment. Malemute Kid picked up the\r\nslush lamp and placed it so its light might fall upon the face of the\r\nnarrator. Prince slid his body over the edge of the bunk and joined\r\nthem.\r\n\r\n'I am Naass, a chief, and the son of a chief, born between a sunset and\r\na rising, on the dark seas, in my father's oomiak. All of a night the\r\nmen toiled at the paddles, and the women cast out the waves which threw\r\nin upon us, and we fought with the storm. The salt spray froze upon my\r\nmother's breast till her breath passed with the passing of the tide.\r\nBut I--I raised my voice with the wind and the storm, and lived.\r\n\r\n'We dwelt in Akatan--' 'Where?' asked Malemute Kid.\r\n\r\n'Akatan, which is in the Aleutians; Akatan, beyond Chignik, beyond\r\nKardalak, beyond Unimak. As I say, we dwelt in Akatan, which lies in\r\nthe midst of the sea on the edge of the world. We farmed the salt seas\r\nfor the fish, the seal, and the otter; and our homes shouldered about\r\none another on the rocky strip between the rim of the forest and the\r\nyellow beach where our kayaks lay. We were not many, and the world was\r\nvery small. There were strange lands to the east--islands like Akatan;\r\nso we thought all the world was islands and did not mind.\r\n\r\n'I was different from my people. In the sands of the beach were the\r\ncrooked timbers and wave-warped planks of a boat such as my people\r\nnever built; and I remember on the point of the island which overlooked\r\nthe ocean three ways there stood a pine tree which never grew there,\r\nsmooth and straight and tall. It is said the two men came to that spot,\r\nturn about, through many days, and watched with the passing of the\r\nlight. These two men came from out of the sea in the boat which lay in\r\npieces on the beach. And they were white like you, and weak as the\r\nlittle children when the seal have gone away and the hunters come home\r\nempty. I know of these things from the old men and the old women, who\r\ngot them from their fathers and mothers before them. These strange\r\nwhite men did not take kindly to our ways at first, but they grew\r\nstrong, what of the fish and the oil, and fierce. And they built them\r\neach his own house, and took the pick of our women, and in time\r\nchildren came. Thus he was born who was to become the father of my\r\nfather's father.\r\n\r\n'As I said, I was different from my people, for I carried the strong,\r\nstrange blood of this white man who came out of the sea. It is said we\r\nhad other laws in the days before these men; but they were fierce and\r\nquarrelsome, and fought with our men till there were no more left who\r\ndared to fight. Then they made themselves chiefs, and took away our old\r\nlaws, and gave us new ones, insomuch that the man was the son of his\r\nfather, and not his mother, as our way had been. They also ruled that\r\nthe son, first-born, should have all things which were his father's\r\nbefore him, and that the brothers and sisters should shift for\r\nthemselves. And they gave us other laws. They showed us new ways in the\r\ncatching of fish and the killing of bear which were thick in the woods;\r\nand they taught us to lay by bigger stores for the time of famine. And\r\nthese things were good.\r\n\r\n'But when they had become chiefs, and there were no more men to face\r\ntheir anger, they fought, these strange white men, each with the other.\r\nAnd the one whose blood I carry drove his seal spear the length of an\r\narm through the other's body. Their children took up the fight, and\r\ntheir children's children; and there was great hatred between them, and\r\nblack doings, even to my time, so that in each family but one lived to\r\npass down the blood of them that went before. Of my blood I was alone;\r\nof the other man's there was but a girl. Unga, who lived with her\r\nmother. Her father and my father did not come back from the fishing one\r\nnight; but afterward they washed up to the beach on the big tides, and\r\nthey held very close to each other.\r\n\r\n'The people wondered, because of the hatred between the houses, and the\r\nold men shook their heads and said the fight would go on when children\r\nwere born to her and children to me. They told me this as a boy, till I\r\ncame to believe, and to look upon Unga as a foe, who was to be the\r\nmother of children which were to fight with mine. I thought of these\r\nthings day by day, and when I grew to a stripling I came to ask why\r\nthis should be so.\r\n\r\n'And they answered, \"We do not know, but that in such way your fathers\r\ndid.\" And I marveled that those which were to come should fight the\r\nbattles of those that were gone, and in it I could see no right. But\r\nthe people said it must be, and I was only a stripling.\r\n\r\n'And they said I must hurry, that my blood might be the older and grow\r\nstrong before hers. This was easy, for I was head man, and the people\r\nlooked up to me because of the deeds and the laws of my fathers, and\r\nthe wealth which was mine. Any maiden would come to me, but I found\r\nnone to my liking. And the old men and the mothers of maidens told me\r\nto hurry, for even then were the hunters bidding high to the mother of\r\nUnga; and should her children grow strong before mine, mine would\r\nsurely die.\r\n\r\n'Nor did I find a maiden till one night coming back from the fishing.\r\nThe sunlight was lying, so, low and full in the eyes, the wind free,\r\nand the kayacks racing with the white seas. Of a sudden the kayak of\r\nUnga came driving past me, and she looked upon me, so, with her black\r\nhair flying like a cloud of night and the spray wet on her cheek. As I\r\nsay, the sunlight was full in the eyes, and I was a stripling; but\r\nsomehow it was all clear, and I knew it to be the call of kind to kind.\r\n\r\n'As she whipped ahead she looked back within the space of two\r\nstrokes--looked as only the woman Unga could look--and again I knew it\r\nas the call of kind. The people shouted as we ripped past the lazy\r\noomiaks and left them far behind. But she was quick at the paddle, and\r\nmy heart was like the belly of a sail, and I did not gain. The wind\r\nfreshened, the sea whitened, and, leaping like the seals on the\r\nwindward breech, we roared down the golden pathway of the sun.' Naass\r\nwas crouched half out of his stool, in the attitude of one driving a\r\npaddle, as he ran the race anew. Somewhere across the stove he beheld\r\nthe tossing kayak and the flying hair of Unga. The voice of the wind\r\nwas in his ears, and its salt beat fresh upon his nostrils.\r\n\r\n'But she made the shore, and ran up the sand, laughing, to the house of\r\nher mother. And a great thought came to me that night--a thought worthy\r\nof him that was chief over all the people of Akatan. So, when the moon\r\nwas up, I went down to the house of her mother, and looked upon the\r\ngoods of Yash-Noosh, which were piled by the door--the goods of\r\nYash-Noosh, a strong hunter who had it in mind to be the father of the\r\nchildren of Unga. Other young men had piled their goods there and taken\r\nthem away again; and each young man had made a pile greater than the\r\none before.\r\n\r\n'And I laughed to the moon and the stars, and went to my own house\r\nwhere my wealth was stored. And many trips I made, till my pile was\r\ngreater by the fingers of one hand than the pile of Yash-Noosh. There\r\nwere fish, dried in the sun and smoked; and forty hides of the hair\r\nseal, and half as many of the fur, and each hide was tied at the mouth\r\nand big bellied with oil; and ten skins of bear which I killed in the\r\nwoods when they came out in the spring. And there were beads and\r\nblankets and scarlet cloths, such as I got in trade from the people who\r\nlived to the east, and who got them in trade from the people who lived\r\nstill beyond in the east.\r\n\r\n'And I looked upon the pile of Yash-Noosh and laughed, for I was head\r\nman in Akatan, and my wealth was greater than the wealth of all my\r\nyoung men, and my fathers had done deeds, and given laws, and put their\r\nnames for all time in the mouths of the people.\r\n\r\n'So, when the morning came, I went down to the beach, casting out of\r\nthe corner of my eye at the house of the mother of Unga. My offer yet\r\nstood untouched.\r\n\r\n'And the women smiled, and said sly things one to the other. I\r\nwondered, for never had such a price been offered; and that night I\r\nadded more to the pile, and put beside it a kayak of well-tanned skins\r\nwhich never yet had swam in the sea. But in the day it was yet there,\r\nopen to the laughter of all men. The mother of Unga was crafty, and I\r\ngrew angry at the shame in which I stood before my people. So that\r\nnight I added till it became a great pile, and I hauled up my oomiak,\r\nwhich was of the value of twenty kayaks. And in the morning there was\r\nno pile.\r\n\r\n'Then made I preparation for the wedding, and the people that lived\r\neven to the east came for the food of the feast and the potlatch token.\r\nUnga was older than I by the age of four suns in the way we reckoned\r\nthe years. I was only a stripling; but then I was a chief, and the son\r\nof a chief, and it did not matter.\r\n\r\n'But a ship shoved her sails above the floor of the ocean, and grew\r\nlarger with the breath of the wind. From her scuppers she ran clear\r\nwater, and the men were in haste and worked hard at the pumps. On the\r\nbow stood a mighty man, watching the depth of the water and giving\r\ncommands with a voice of thunder. His eyes were of the pale blue of the\r\ndeep waters, and his head was maned like that of a sea lion. And his\r\nhair was yellow, like the straw of a southern harvest or the manila\r\nrope yarns which sailormen plait.\r\n\r\n'Of late years we had seen ships from afar, but this was the first to\r\ncome to the beach of Akatan. The feast was broken, and the women and\r\nchildren fled to the houses, while we men strung our bows and waited\r\nwith spears in hand. But when the ship's forefoot smelled the beach the\r\nstrange men took no notice of us, being busy with their own work. With\r\nthe falling of the tide they careened the schooner and patched a great\r\nhole in her bottom. So the women crept back, and the feast went on.\r\n\r\n'When the tide rose, the sea wanderers kedged the schooner to deep\r\nwater and then came among us. They bore presents and were friendly; so\r\nI made room for them, and out of the largeness of my heart gave them\r\ntokens such as I gave all the guests, for it was my wedding day, and I\r\nwas head man in Akatan. And he with the mane of the sea lion was there,\r\nso tall and strong that one looked to see the earth shake with the fall\r\nof his feet. He looked much and straight at Unga, with his arms folded,\r\nso, and stayed till the sun went away and the stars came out. Then he\r\nwent down to his ship. After that I took Unga by the hand and led her\r\nto my own house. And there was singing and great laughter, and the\r\nwomen said sly things, after the manner of women at such times. But we\r\ndid not care. Then the people left us alone and went home.\r\n\r\n'The last noise had not died away when the chief of the sea wanderers\r\ncame in by the door. And he had with him black bottles, from which we\r\ndrank and made merry. You see, I was only a stripling, and had lived\r\nall my days on the edge of the world. So my blood became as fire, and\r\nmy heart as light as the froth that flies from the surf to the cliff.\r\nUnga sat silent among the skins in the corner, her eyes wide, for she\r\nseemed to fear. And he with the mane of the sea lion looked upon her\r\nstraight and long. Then his men came in with bundles of goods, and he\r\npiled before me wealth such as was not in all Akatan. There were guns,\r\nboth large and small, and powder and shot and shell, and bright axes\r\nand knives of steel, and cunning tools, and strange things the like of\r\nwhich I had never seen. When he showed me by sign that it was all mine,\r\nI thought him a great man to be so free; but he showed me also that\r\nUnga was to go away with him in his ship.\r\n\r\n'Do you understand?--that Unga was to go away with him in his ship. The\r\nblood of my fathers flamed hot on the sudden, and I made to drive him\r\nthrough with my spear. But the spirit of the bottles had stolen the\r\nlife from my arm, and he took me by the neck, so, and knocked my head\r\nagainst the wall of the house. And I was made weak like a newborn\r\nchild, and my legs would no more stand under me.\r\n\r\n'Unga screamed, and she laid hold of the things of the house with her\r\nhands, till they fell all about us as he dragged her to the door. Then\r\nhe took her in his great arms, and when she tore at his yellow hair\r\nlaughed with a sound like that of the big bull seal in the rut.\r\n\r\n'I crawled to the beach and called upon my people, but they were\r\nafraid. Only Yash-Noosh was a man, and they struck him on the head with\r\nan oar, till he lay with his face in the sand and did not move. And\r\nthey raised the sails to the sound of their songs, and the ship went\r\naway on the wind.\r\n\r\n'The people said it was good, for there would be no more war of the\r\nbloods in Akatan; but I said never a word, waiting till the time of the\r\nfull moon, when I put fish and oil in my kayak and went away to the\r\neast. I saw many islands and many people, and I, who had lived on the\r\nedge, saw that the world was very large. I talked by signs; but they\r\nhad not seen a schooner nor a man with the mane of a sea lion, and they\r\npointed always to the east. And I slept in queer places, and ate odd\r\nthings, and met strange faces. Many laughed, for they thought me light\r\nof head; but sometimes old men turned my face to the light and blessed\r\nme, and the eyes of the young women grew soft as they asked me of the\r\nstrange ship, and Unga, and the men of the sea.\r\n\r\n'And in this manner, through rough seas and great storms, I came to\r\nUnalaska. There were two schooners there, but neither was the one I\r\nsought. So I passed on to the east, with the world growing ever larger,\r\nand in the island of Unamok there was no word of the ship, nor in\r\nKadiak, nor in Atognak. And so I came one day to a rocky land, where\r\nmen dug great holes in the mountain. And there was a schooner, but not\r\nmy schooner, and men loaded upon it the rocks which they dug. This I\r\nthought childish, for all the world was made of rocks; but they gave me\r\nfood and set me to work. When the schooner was deep in the water, the\r\ncaptain gave me money and told me to go; but I asked which way he went,\r\nand he pointed south. I made signs that I would go with him, and he\r\nlaughed at first, but then, being short of men, took me to help work\r\nthe ship. So I came to talk after their manner, and to heave on ropes,\r\nand to reef the stiff sails in sudden squalls, and to take my turn at\r\nthe wheel. But it was not strange, for the blood of my fathers was the\r\nblood of the men of the sea.\r\n\r\n'I had thought it an easy task to find him I sought, once I got among\r\nhis own people; and when we raised the land one day, and passed between\r\na gateway of the sea to a port, I looked for perhaps as many schooners\r\nas there were fingers to my hands. But the ships lay against the\r\nwharves for miles, packed like so many little fish; and when I went\r\namong them to ask for a man with the mane of a sea lion, they laughed,\r\nand answered me in the tongues of many peoples. And I found that they\r\nhailed from the uttermost parts of the earth.\r\n\r\n'And I went into the city to look upon the face of every man. But they\r\nwere like the cod when they run thick on the banks, and I could not\r\ncount them. And the noise smote upon me till I could not hear, and my\r\nhead was dizzy with much movement. So I went on and on, through the\r\nlands which sang in the warm sunshine; where the harvests lay rich on\r\nthe plains; and where great cities were fat with men that lived like\r\nwomen, with false words in their mouths and their hearts black with the\r\nlust of gold. And all the while my people of Akatan hunted and fished,\r\nand were happy in the thought that the world was small.\r\n\r\n'But the look in the eyes of Unga coming home from the fishing was with\r\nme always, and I knew I would find her when the time was met. She\r\nwalked down quiet lanes in the dusk of the evening, or led me chases\r\nacross the thick fields wet with the morning dew, and there was a\r\npromise in her eyes such as only the woman Unga could give.\r\n\r\n'So I wandered through a thousand cities. Some were gentle and gave me\r\nfood, and others laughed, and still others cursed; but I kept my tongue\r\nbetween my teeth, and went strange ways and saw strange sights.\r\nSometimes I, who was a chief and the son of a chief, toiled for\r\nmen--men rough of speech and hard as iron, who wrung gold from the\r\nsweat and sorrow of their fellow men. Yet no word did I get of my quest\r\ntill I came back to the sea like a homing seal to the rookeries.\r\n\r\n'But this was at another port, in another country which lay to the\r\nnorth. And there I heard dim tales of the yellow-haired sea wanderer,\r\nand I learned that he was a hunter of seals, and that even then he was\r\nabroad on the ocean.\r\n\r\n'So I shipped on a seal schooner with the lazy Siwashes, and followed\r\nhis trackless trail to the north where the hunt was then warm. And we\r\nwere away weary months, and spoke many of the fleet, and heard much of\r\nthe wild doings of him I sought; but never once did we raise him above\r\nthe sea. We went north, even to the Pribilofs, and killed the seals in\r\nherds on the beach, and brought their warm bodies aboard till our\r\nscuppers ran grease and blood and no man could stand upon the deck.\r\nThen were we chased by a ship of slow steam, which fired upon us with\r\ngreat guns. But we put sail till the sea was over our decks and washed\r\nthem clean, and lost ourselves in a fog.\r\n\r\n'It is said, at this time, while we fled with fear at our hearts, that\r\nthe yellow-haired sea wanderer put in to the Pribilofs, right to the\r\nfactory, and while the part of his men held the servants of the\r\ncompany, the rest loaded ten thousand green skins from the salt houses.\r\nI say it is said, but I believe; for in the voyages I made on the coast\r\nwith never a meeting the northern seas rang with his wildness and\r\ndaring, till the three nations which have lands there sought him with\r\ntheir ships.\r\n\r\n'And I heard of Unga, for the captains sang loud in her praise, and she\r\nwas always with him. She had learned the ways of his people, they said,\r\nand was happy. But I knew better--knew that her heart harked back to\r\nher own people by the yellow beach of Akatan.\r\n\r\n'So, after a long time, I went back to the port which is by a gateway\r\nof the sea, and there I learned that he had gone across the girth of\r\nthe great ocean to hunt for the seal to the east of the warm land which\r\nruns south from the Russian seas.\r\n\r\n'And I, who was become a sailorman, shipped with men of his own race,\r\nand went after him in the hunt of the seal. And there were few ships\r\noff that new land; but we hung on the flank of the seal pack and\r\nharried it north through all the spring of the year. And when the cows\r\nwere heavy with pup and crossed the Russian line, our men grumbled and\r\nwere afraid. For there was much fog, and every day men were lost in the\r\nboats. They would not work, so the captain turned the ship back toward\r\nthe way it came. But I knew the yellow-haired sea wanderer was\r\nunafraid, and would hang by the pack, even to the Russian Isles, where\r\nfew men go. So I took a boat, in the black of night, when the lookout\r\ndozed on the fo'c'slehead, and went alone to the warm, long land. And I\r\njourneyed south to meet the men by Yeddo Bay, who are wild and\r\nunafraid. And the Yoshiwara girls were small, and bright like steel,\r\nand good to look upon; but I could not stop, for I knew that Unga\r\nrolled on the tossing floor by the rookeries of the north.\r\n\r\n'The men by Yeddo Bay had met from the ends of the earth, and had\r\nneither gods nor homes, sailing under the flag of the Japanese. And\r\nwith them I went to the rich beaches of Copper Island, where our salt\r\npiles became high with skins.\r\n\r\n'And in that silent sea we saw no man till we were ready to come away.\r\nThen one day the fog lifted on the edge of a heavy wind, and there\r\njammed down upon us a schooner, with close in her wake the cloudy\r\nfunnels of a Russian man-of-war. We fled away on the beam of the wind,\r\nwith the schooner jamming still closer and plunging ahead three feet to\r\nour two. And upon her poop was the man with the mane of the sea lion,\r\npressing the rails under with the canvas and laughing in his strength\r\nof life. And Unga was there--I knew her on the moment--but he sent her\r\nbelow when the cannons began to talk across the sea.\r\n\r\nAs I say, with three feet to our two, till we saw the rudder lift green\r\nat every jump--and I swinging on to the wheel and cursing, with my back\r\nto the Russian shot. For we knew he had it in mind to run before us,\r\nthat he might get away while we were caught. And they knocked our masts\r\nout of us till we dragged into the wind like a wounded gull; but he\r\nwent on over the edge of the sky line--he and Unga.\r\n\r\n'What could we? The fresh hides spoke for themselves. So they took us\r\nto a Russian port, and after that to a lone country, where they set us\r\nto work in the mines to dig salt. And some died, and--and some did not\r\ndie.' Naass swept the blanket from his shoulders, disclosing the\r\ngnarled and twisted flesh, marked with the unmistakable striations of\r\nthe knout. Prince hastily covered him, for it was not nice to look upon.\r\n\r\n'We were there a weary time and sometimes men got away to the south,\r\nbut they always came back. So, when we who hailed from Yeddo Bay rose\r\nin the night and took the guns from the guards, we went to the north.\r\nAnd the land was very large, with plains, soggy with water, and great\r\nforests. And the cold came, with much snow on the ground, and no man\r\nknew the way. Weary months we journeyed through the endless forest--I\r\ndo not remember, now, for there was little food and often we lay down\r\nto die. But at last we came to the cold sea, and but three were left to\r\nlook upon it. One had shipped from Yeddo as captain, and he knew in his\r\nhead the lay of the great lands, and of the place where men may cross\r\nfrom one to the other on the ice. And he led us--I do not know, it was\r\nso long--till there were but two. When we came to that place we found\r\nfive of the strange people which live in that country, and they had\r\ndogs and skins, and we were very poor. We fought in the snow till they\r\ndied, and the captain died, and the dogs and skins were mine. Then I\r\ncrossed on the ice, which was broken, and once I drifted till a gale\r\nfrom the west put me upon the shore. And after that, Golovin Bay,\r\nPastilik, and the priest. Then south, south, to the warm sunlands where\r\nfirst I wandered.\r\n\r\n'But the sea was no longer fruitful, and those who went upon it after\r\nthe seal went to little profit and great risk. The fleets scattered,\r\nand the captains and the men had no word of those I sought. So I turned\r\naway from the ocean which never rests, and went among the lands, where\r\nthe trees, the houses, and the mountains sit always in one place and do\r\nnot move. I journeyed far, and came to learn many things, even to the\r\nway of reading and writing from books. It was well I should do this,\r\nfor it came upon me that Unga must know these things, and that someday,\r\nwhen the time was met--we--you understand, when the time was met.\r\n\r\n'So I drifted, like those little fish which raise a sail to the wind\r\nbut cannot steer. But my eyes and my ears were open always, and I went\r\namong men who traveled much, for I knew they had but to see those I\r\nsought to remember. At last there came a man, fresh from the mountains,\r\nwith pieces of rock in which the free gold stood to the size of peas,\r\nand he had heard, he had met, he knew them. They were rich, he said,\r\nand lived in the place where they drew the gold from the ground.\r\n\r\n'It was in a wild country, and very far away; but in time I came to the\r\ncamp, hidden between the mountains, where men worked night and day, out\r\nof the sight of the sun. Yet the time was not come. I listened to the\r\ntalk of the people. He had gone away--they had gone away--to England,\r\nit was said, in the matter of bringing men with much money together to\r\nform companies. I saw the house they had lived in; more like a palace,\r\nsuch as one sees in the old countries. In the nighttime I crept in\r\nthrough a window that I might see in what manner he treated her. I went\r\nfrom room to room, and in such way thought kings and queens must live,\r\nit was all so very good. And they all said he treated her like a queen,\r\nand many marveled as to what breed of woman she was for there was other\r\nblood in her veins, and she was different from the women of Akatan, and\r\nno one knew her for what she was. Aye, she was a queen; but I was a\r\nchief, and the son of a chief, and I had paid for her an untold price\r\nof skin and boat and bead.\r\n\r\n'But why so many words? I was a sailorman, and knew the way of the\r\nships on the seas. I followed to England, and then to other countries.\r\nSometimes I heard of them by word of mouth, sometimes I read of them in\r\nthe papers; yet never once could I come by them, for they had much\r\nmoney, and traveled fast, while I was a poor man. Then came trouble\r\nupon them, and their wealth slipped away one day like a curl of smoke.\r\nThe papers were full of it at the time; but after that nothing was\r\nsaid, and I knew they had gone back where more gold could be got from\r\nthe ground.\r\n\r\n'They had dropped out of the world, being now poor, and so I wandered\r\nfrom camp to camp, even north to the Kootenay country, where I picked\r\nup the cold scent. They had come and gone, some said this way, and some\r\nthat, and still others that they had gone to the country of the Yukon.\r\nAnd I went this way, and I went that, ever journeying from place to\r\nplace, till it seemed I must grow weary of the world which was so\r\nlarge. But in the Kootenay I traveled a bad trail, and a long trail,\r\nwith a breed of the Northwest, who saw fit to die when the famine\r\npinched. He had been to the Yukon by an unknown way over the mountains,\r\nand when he knew his time was near gave me the map and the secret of a\r\nplace where he swore by his gods there was much gold.\r\n\r\n'After that all the world began to flock into the north. I was a poor\r\nman; I sold myself to be a driver of dogs. The rest you know. I met him\r\nand her in Dawson.\r\n\r\n'She did not know me, for I was only a stripling, and her life had been\r\nlarge, so she had no time to remember the one who had paid for her an\r\nuntold price.\r\n\r\n'So? You bought me from my term of service. I went back to bring things\r\nabout in my own way, for I had waited long, and now that I had my hand\r\nupon him was in no hurry.\r\n\r\n'As I say, I had it in mind to do my own way, for I read back in my\r\nlife, through all I had seen and suffered, and remembered the cold and\r\nhunger of the endless forest by the Russian seas. As you know, I led\r\nhim into the east--him and Unga--into the east where many have gone and\r\nfew returned. I led them to the spot where the bones and the curses of\r\nmen lie with the gold which they may not have.\r\n\r\n'The way was long and the trail unpacked. Our dogs were many and ate\r\nmuch; nor could our sleds carry till the break of spring. We must come\r\nback before the river ran free. So here and there we cached grub, that\r\nour sleds might be lightened and there be no chance of famine on the\r\nback trip. At the McQuestion there were three men, and near them we\r\nbuilt a cache, as also did we at the Mayo, where was a hunting camp of\r\na dozen Pellys which had crossed the divide from the south.\r\n\r\n'After that, as we went on into the east, we saw no men; only the\r\nsleeping river, the moveless forest, and the White Silence of the\r\nNorth. As I say, the way was long and the trail unpacked. Sometimes, in\r\na day's toil, we made no more than eight miles, or ten, and at night we\r\nslept like dead men. And never once did they dream that I was Naass,\r\nhead man of Akatan, the righter of wrongs.\r\n\r\n'We now made smaller caches, and in the nighttime it was a small matter\r\nto go back on the trail we had broken and change them in such way that\r\none might deem the wolverines the thieves. Again there be places where\r\nthere is a fall to the river, and the water is unruly, and the ice\r\nmakes above and is eaten away beneath.\r\n\r\n'In such a spot the sled I drove broke through, and the dogs; and to\r\nhim and Unga it was ill luck, but no more. And there was much grub on\r\nthat sled, and the dogs the strongest.\r\n\r\n'But he laughed, for he was strong of life, and gave the dogs that were\r\nleft little grub till we cut them from the harnesses one by one and fed\r\nthem to their mates. We would go home light, he said, traveling and\r\neating from cache to cache, with neither dogs nor sleds; which was\r\ntrue, for our grub was very short, and the last dog died in the traces\r\nthe night we came to the gold and the bones and the curses of men.\r\n\r\n'To reach that place--and the map spoke true--in the heart of the great\r\nmountains, we cut ice steps against the wall of a divide. One looked\r\nfor a valley beyond, but there was no valley; the snow spread away,\r\nlevel as the great harvest plains, and here and there about us mighty\r\nmountains shoved their white heads among the stars. And midway on that\r\nstrange plain which should have been a valley the earth and the snow\r\nfell away, straight down toward the heart of the world.\r\n\r\n'Had we not been sailormen our heads would have swung round with the\r\nsight, but we stood on the dizzy edge that we might see a way to get\r\ndown. And on one side, and one side only, the wall had fallen away till\r\nit was like the slope of the decks in a topsail breeze. I do not know\r\nwhy this thing should be so, but it was so. \"It is the mouth of hell,\"\r\nhe said; \"let us go down.\" And we went down.\r\n\r\n'And on the bottom there was a cabin, built by some man, of logs which\r\nhe had cast down from above. It was a very old cabin, for men had died\r\nthere alone at different times, and on pieces of birch bark which were\r\nthere we read their last words and their curses.\r\n\r\n'One had died of scurvy; another's partner had robbed him of his last\r\ngrub and powder and stolen away; a third had been mauled by a baldface\r\ngrizzly; a fourth had hunted for game and starved--and so it went, and\r\nthey had been loath to leave the gold, and had died by the side of it\r\nin one way or another. And the worthless gold they had gathered\r\nyellowed the floor of the cabin like in a dream.\r\n\r\n'But his soul was steady, and his head clear, this man I had led thus\r\nfar. \"We have nothing to eat,\" he said, \"and we will only look upon\r\nthis gold, and see whence it comes and how much there be. Then we will\r\ngo away quick, before it gets into our eyes and steals away our\r\njudgment. And in this way we may return in the end, with more grub, and\r\npossess it all.\" So we looked upon the great vein, which cut the wall\r\nof the pit as a true vein should, and we measured it, and traced it\r\nfrom above and below, and drove the stakes of the claims and blazed the\r\ntrees in token of our rights. Then, our knees shaking with lack of\r\nfood, and a sickness in our bellies, and our hearts chugging close to\r\nour mouths, we climbed the mighty wall for the last time and turned our\r\nfaces to the back trip.\r\n\r\n'The last stretch we dragged Unga between us, and we fell often, but in\r\nthe end we made the cache. And lo, there was no grub. It was well done,\r\nfor he thought it the wolverines, and damned them and his gods in one\r\nbreath. But Unga was brave, and smiled, and put her hand in his, till I\r\nturned away that I might hold myself. \"We will rest by the fire,\" she\r\nsaid, \"till morning, and we will gather strength from our moccasins.\"\r\nSo we cut the tops of our moccasins in strips, and boiled them half of\r\nthe night, that we might chew them and swallow them. And in the morning\r\nwe talked of our chance. The next cache was five days' journey; we\r\ncould not make it. We must find game.\r\n\r\n'\"We will go forth and hunt,\" he said.\r\n\r\n'\"Yes,\" said I, \"we will go forth and hunt.\" 'And he ruled that Unga\r\nstay by the fire and save her strength. And we went forth, he in quest\r\nof the moose and I to the cache I had changed. But I ate little, so\r\nthey might not see in me much strength. And in the night he fell many\r\ntimes as he drew into camp. And I, too, made to suffer great weakness,\r\nstumbling over my snowshoes as though each step might be my last. And\r\nwe gathered strength from our moccasins.\r\n\r\n'He was a great man. His soul lifted his body to the last; nor did he\r\ncry aloud, save for the sake of Unga. On the second day I followed him,\r\nthat I might not miss the end. And he lay down to rest often. That\r\nnight he was near gone; but in the morning he swore weakly and went\r\nforth again. He was like a drunken man, and I looked many times for him\r\nto give up, but his was the strength of the strong, and his soul the\r\nsoul of a giant, for he lifted his body through all the weary day. And\r\nhe shot two ptarmigan, but would not eat them. He needed no fire; they\r\nmeant life; but his thought was for Unga, and he turned toward camp.\r\n\r\n'He no longer walked, but crawled on hand and knee through the snow. I\r\ncame to him, and read death in his eyes. Even then it was not too late\r\nto eat of the ptarmigan. He cast away his rifle and carried the birds\r\nin his mouth like a dog. I walked by his side, upright. And he looked\r\nat me during the moments he rested, and wondered that I was so strong.\r\nI could see it, though he no longer spoke; and when his lips moved,\r\nthey moved without sound.\r\n\r\n'As I say, he was a great man, and my heart spoke for softness; but I\r\nread back in my life, and remembered the cold and hunger of the endless\r\nforest by the Russian seas. Besides, Unga was mine, and I had paid for\r\nher an untold price of skin and boat and bead.\r\n\r\n'And in this manner we came through the white forest, with the silence\r\nheavy upon us like a damp sea mist. And the ghosts of the past were in\r\nthe air and all about us; and I saw the yellow beach of Akatan, and the\r\nkayaks racing home from the fishing, and the houses on the rim of the\r\nforest. And the men who had made themselves chiefs were there, the\r\nlawgivers whose blood I bore and whose blood I had wedded in Unga. Aye,\r\nand Yash-Noosh walked with me, the wet sand in his hair, and his war\r\nspear, broken as he fell upon it, still in his hand. And I knew the\r\ntime was meet, and saw in the eyes of Unga the promise.\r\n\r\n'As I say, we came thus through the forest, till the smell of the camp\r\nsmoke was in our nostrils. And I bent above him, and tore the ptarmigan\r\nfrom his teeth.\r\n\r\n'He turned on his side and rested, the wonder mounting in his eyes, and\r\nthe hand which was under slipping slow toward the knife at his hip. But\r\nI took it from him, smiling close in his face. Even then he did not\r\nunderstand. So I made to drink from black bottles, and to build high\r\nupon the snow a pile--of goods, and to live again the things which had\r\nhappened on the night of my marriage. I spoke no word, but he\r\nunderstood. Yet was he unafraid. There was a sneer to his lips, and\r\ncold anger, and he gathered new strength with the knowledge. It was not\r\nfar, but the snow was deep, and he dragged himself very slow.\r\n\r\n'Once he lay so long I turned him over and gazed into his eyes. And\r\nsometimes he looked forth, and sometimes death. And when I loosed him\r\nhe struggled on again. In this way we came to the fire. Unga was at his\r\nside on the instant. His lips moved without sound; then he pointed at\r\nme, that Unga might understand. And after that he lay in the snow, very\r\nstill, for a long while. Even now is he there in the snow.\r\n\r\n'I said no word till I had cooked the ptarmigan. Then I spoke to her,\r\nin her own tongue, which she had not heard in many years. She\r\nstraightened herself, so, and her eyes were wonder-wide, and she asked\r\nwho I was, and where I had learned that speech.\r\n\r\n'\"I am Naass,\" I said.\r\n\r\n'\"You?\" she said. \"You?\" And she crept close that she might look upon\r\nme.\r\n\r\n'\"Yes,\" I answered; \"I am Naass, head man of Akatan, the last of the\r\nblood, as you are the last of the blood.\" 'And she laughed. By all the\r\nthings I have seen and the deeds I have done may I never hear such a\r\nlaugh again. It put the chill to my soul, sitting there in the White\r\nSilence, alone with death and this woman who laughed.\r\n\r\n'\"Come!\" I said, for I thought she wandered. \"Eat of the food and let\r\nus be gone. It is a far fetch from here to Akatan.\" 'But she shoved her\r\nface in his yellow mane, and laughed till it seemed the heavens must\r\nfall about our ears. I had thought she would be overjoyed at the sight\r\nof me, and eager to go back to the memory of old times, but this seemed\r\na strange form to take.\r\n\r\n'\"Come!\" I cried, taking her strong by the hand. \"The way is long and\r\ndark. Let us hurry!\" \"Where?\" she asked, sitting up, and ceasing from\r\nher strange mirth.\r\n\r\n'\"To Akatan,\" I answered, intent on the light to grow on her face at\r\nthe thought. But it became like his, with a sneer to the lips, and cold\r\nanger.\r\n\r\n'\"Yes,\" she said; \"we will go, hand in hand, to Akatan, you and I. And\r\nwe will live in the dirty huts, and eat of the fish and oil, and bring\r\nforth a spawn--a spawn to be proud of all the days of our life. We will\r\nforget the world and be happy, very happy. It is good, most good. Come!\r\nLet us hurry. Let us go back to Akatan.\" And she ran her hand through\r\nhis yellow hair, and smiled in a way which was not good. And there was\r\nno promise in her eyes.\r\n\r\n'I sat silent, and marveled at the strangeness of woman. I went back to\r\nthe night when he dragged her from me and she screamed and tore at his\r\nhair--at his hair which now she played with and would not leave. Then I\r\nremembered the price and the long years of waiting; and I gripped her\r\nclose, and dragged her away as he had done. And she held back, even as\r\non that night, and fought like a she-cat for its whelp. And when the\r\nfire was between us and the man. I loosed her, and she sat and\r\nlistened. And I told her of all that lay between, of all that had\r\nhappened to me on strange seas, of all that I had done in strange\r\nlands; of my weary quest, and the hungry years, and the promise which\r\nhad been mine from the first. Aye, I told all, even to what had passed\r\nthat day between the man and me, and in the days yet young. And as I\r\nspoke I saw the promise grow in her eyes, full and large like the break\r\nof dawn. And I read pity there, the tenderness of woman, the love, the\r\nheart and the soul of Unga. And I was a stripling again, for the look\r\nwas the look of Unga as she ran up the beach, laughing, to the home of\r\nher mother. The stern unrest was gone, and the hunger, and the weary\r\nwaiting.\r\n\r\n'The time was met. I felt the call of her breast, and it seemed there I\r\nmust pillow my head and forget. She opened her arms to me, and I came\r\nagainst her. Then, sudden, the hate flamed in her eye, her hand was at\r\nmy hip. And once, twice, she passed the knife.\r\n\r\n'\"Dog!\" she sneered, as she flung me into the snow. \"Swine!\" And then\r\nshe laughed till the silence cracked, and went back to her dead.\r\n\r\n'As I say, once she passed the knife, and twice; but she was weak with\r\nhunger, and it was not meant that I should die. Yet was I minded to\r\nstay in that place, and to close my eyes in the last long sleep with\r\nthose whose lives had crossed with mine and led my feet on unknown\r\ntrails. But there lay a debt upon me which would not let me rest.\r\n\r\n'And the way was long, the cold bitter, and there was little grub. The\r\nPellys had found no moose, and had robbed my cache. And so had the\r\nthree white men, but they lay thin and dead in their cabins as I\r\npassed. After that I do not remember, till I came here, and found food\r\nand fire--much fire.' As he finished, he crouched closely, even\r\njealously, over the stove. For a long while the slush-lamp shadows\r\nplayed tragedies upon the wall.\r\n\r\n'But Unga!' cried Prince, the vision still strong upon him.\r\n\r\n'Unga? She would not eat of the ptarmigan. She lay with her arms about\r\nhis neck, her face deep in his yellow hair. I drew the fire close, that\r\nshe might not feel the frost, but she crept to the other side. And I\r\nbuilt a fire there; yet it was little good, for she would not eat. And\r\nin this manner they still lie up there in the snow.'\r\n\r\n'And you?' asked Malemute Kid.\r\n\r\n'I do not know; but Akatan is small, and I have little wish to go back\r\nand live on the edge of the world. Yet is there small use in life. I\r\ncan go to Constantine, and he will put irons upon me, and one day they\r\nwill tie a piece of rope, so, and I will sleep good. Yet--no; I do not\r\nknow.' 'But, Kid,' protested Prince, 'this is murder!' 'Hush!'\r\ncommanded Malemute Kid. 'There be things greater than our wisdom,\r\nbeyond our justice. The right and the wrong of this we cannot say, and\r\nit is not for us to judge.' Naass drew yet closer to the fire. There\r\nwas a great silence, and in each man's eyes many pictures came and went.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nThe End\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nEnd of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Son of the Wolf, by Jack London\r\n\r\n*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SON OF THE WOLF ***\r\n\r\n***** This file should be named 2377.txt or 2377.zip *****\r\nThis and all associated files of various formats will be found in:\r\n        http://www.gutenberg.org/2/3/7/2377/\r\n\r\nProduced by an anonymous Project Gutenberg volunteer. HTML\r\nversion by Al Haines.\r\n\r\n\r\nUpdated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions\r\nwill be renamed.\r\n\r\nCreating the works from public domain print editions means that no\r\none owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation\r\n(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without\r\npermission and without paying copyright royalties.  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