"We cast cool shade upon the green grass," whispered the fluttering leaves. "We dress the tree in fresh and quiet green. It is bare and brown without us. The tired traveler and the panting beast are thankful for our shade. Children love to play under our shelter. At night the song birds of the woods fly to us for our protection. We hide the nests of mother birds. The light winds stay with us and caress us." And the leaves felt very proud and important.
"What you say is all very true, but you should not forget us," said a voice from the earth. "We are surely worth something."
"And who are you? Where do you grow?" asked the leaves.
"We are buried deep in the ground, far below you, but we feed the stem and make you grow. We are the roots. You owe your beauty to us. We are not beautiful as you are, but we do not die. Winter does not change us, but when it comes you fall. The tree stands firm, for it is held in place by us. If we should die, the tree would die and you would die with it."
A gnat perched upon the horn of a bull. "Dear sir," he said to the bull, "I am sorry to trouble you, but I am too worn out to go any farther. Does my weight tire you? When you can bear it no longer, I shall go on."
"You need not leave on my account," said the bull. "I did not know when you sat down and I shall not miss you when you leave."
A farmer who had worked hard all his life was taken sick. He knew that he must soon die. He called his three sons about his bed to give them some advice.
"My sons," said he, "keep all of the land which I leave you. Do not sell any of it, for there is a treasure in the soil. I shall not tell you where to hunt for it, but if you try hard to find it, and do not give up, you will surely succeed.
"As soon as the harvest is over, begin your search with plow, and spade, and rake. Turn every foot of earth, then turn it again and again. The treasure is there."
After the father died, the sons gathered in the harvest. As soon as the grain had been cared for, they planned to search for the hidden treasure. The farm was divided into three equal parts. Each son agreed to dig carefully his part.
Every foot of soil was turned by the plow or by the spade. It was next harrowed and raked, but no treasure was found. That seemed very strange.
"Father was an honest man and a wise man," said the youngest son. "He would never have told us to hunt for the treasure if it were not here. Do you not remember that he said, 'Turn the soil again and again'? He surely thought the treasure worth hunting for."
"Our land is in such good condition now that we might as well sow winter wheat," said the oldest son. His brothers agreed to this and the wheat was sown.
The next harvest was so great that it surprised them. No neighbor's field bore so many bushels of wheat to the acre. The sons were pleased with their success.
After the wheat was harvested, they met to make plans for searching again for the hidden treasure. The second son said:
"I have been thinking ever since our big harvest that perhaps father knew how this search would turn out. We have much gold, We did not find it in a hole in the ground, but we found it by digging. If we had not cultivated our fields well, we should not have had such a crop of wheat. Our father was wise; we have dug for the treasure and have found it.
"We will cultivate the ground still better next year and make the soil rich; then we shall find more treasure."
The other sons agreed to this. "It is good to work for what we get," they said.
Year after year the farm was well tilled and bore good crops. The sons became rich, and they had two things much better than wealth—good health and happiness.
"You may hunt with me now, Reynard," said a wise old fox to his young son. "It is time that you were beginning to make your living."
"That pleases me well," said Reynard. "I should not mind going out alone."
"You are not ready yet to go by yourself. There are many things that I must teach you first. Do not go without me."
Reynard said nothing, but the next day, when his father was asleep, he went out into the field and brought home a nice, fat partridge.
He wakened his father by a quick bark and said, "See what I have caught. I do not need to go with you."
"You do not know what you need," replied his father. "No wise fox hunts in the daytime."
But Reynard did not mind what his father said, and every day he went out hunting. He killed so many chickens, turkeys and ducks that everyone tried to catch him.
One night the old fox started out alone, but Reynard crept slowly after him. The old fox went toward a large farmhouse. He stopped suddenly in the path and waited; then he ran on quickly.
Reynard followed. He stopped at the same place where the old fox had stopped.
"What is this?" he said. "A fine white turkey down in the grass! Well, well, is my father losing his sharp sight and his keen scent? I shall not let such a prize get away from me!"
He sprang upon the turkey. The trap gave a loud snap, and Reynard was a prisoner.
"What a fool I am!" he said. "I saw the bait. My father saw the trap."
"Mother, may I go into the country to-day? You said I might go some day. I am big enough now to go out alone. Do let me go," said Frisky, a young mouse, to his mother.
"Well, child, I can not be with you always. I suppose there must be a first time for you to go out alone. I dread to have you go, but if you will promise to run home if a cat comes near you, I will let you go," said Mrs. Gray, the mother.
"I will run, mother, if I see a cat. You know how fast I can go. I should like to see any cat catch me. I shall not be gone long. Good-by, mother," and off went Frisky.
Mrs. Gray watched him until he was out of sight. "I wish I had gone with him," she said. "He does not know the world as I do. I fear some harm will come to him," and she looked very much worried as she turned to go into her house. She tried to sleep, for she was very tired; but when she dozed she dreamed, and her dreams were all bad ones.
At last she went back to the door and looked for Frisky. He was coming, leaping along in a great hurry. He began talking to his mother before he reached her.
"Oh, mother," he said, "I met two big creatures on the other side of the pasture.
"One of them was very fine looking. She had very gentle ways. She stepped about so quietly that one could scarcely hear her. Her dress was of soft gray fur, much like yours, mother, and she wore whiskers like yours. I knew you would like to see her, so I was just going to invite her home with me when a terrible-looking creature came right toward me.
"He walked as if he were too good to step on the ground. His legs were naked, his toes were long, and his toe nails were strong and sharp. His dress was not so soft as yours. It was black and white. His mouth looked like a trap. I tell you, mother, I should hate to get caught in that trap. On top of his head was something that wobbled as he walked. He straightened himself up, raised his arms and screamed. Such a scream! It nearly frightened me to death. He isn't coming, is he, mother? Do let me run into the house."
"My son," said his mother, stopping Frisky as he tried to pass her, "I shall not let you go out alone again until you know more.
"That animal which you liked so well and wished to invite to our house is a cat. It is the very one no doubt that killed all of your brothers and sisters when they were quite small. She would have killed you too at the same time if a dog had not come along and frightened her away. If you had gone close to her this afternoon, I should never have seen you again. I thought you would know a cat.
"The creature of which you were afraid cares nothing for us. He would not have harmed you. He has bare legs so he can wade about in the grass and not get his clothing wet. He uses those long toes and sharp claws to scratch in the earth for food. He does not catch mice with them. He uses that strong bill for picking up grain. People call him a rooster."
Two doves, White-coat and Blue-feather, lived in a dovecote. They were brothers and were very fond of each other. White-coat was a great home body, but Blue-feather liked to travel.
One day Blue-feather said to White-coat, "I want to see the world. This place is very tame. I have lived here all my life (he was only six months old) and have seen all there is to see. I want to visit other countries."
"Don't go, Blue-feather," said White-coat. "We have all we want to eat here, everyone is kind, and we have a good home. I have heard that in other places men set traps for birds or shoot them, and that sometimes large hawks swoop down and carry them off. You might be caught out in a storm and find no shelter; besides, it would almost kill me to be separated from you long. You might be able to bear it, but not I. Surely it is best to stay at home."
Just then a crow cawed. "Do you hear that crow, brother?" asked White-coat. "It seems to say, 'You will be sorry if you go.' Do not go. Take his warning. See, too, it is raining. If you must go, do put it off until a better time."
"White-coat, why do you make such a fuss about nothing? I shall not be gone more than three days; then you shall hear of all the wonderful things I saw. I shall tell what happened to me from the beginning of my journey until its close. It will be almost as good as going yourself."
"I do not care about the world," said White-coat. "How can I let you go! You will find me watching for you at whatever time of day or night you reach home. I can not eat, I can not sleep, with you away."
At this, they said a sad good-by to each other, and Blue-feather flew away.
A dark cloud covered the sky. Blue-feather looked about for shelter. He flew to the only tree near, but its leaves could not keep off the driving rain, so his coat was wet through and through.
When the sky was clear again, Blue-feather left the tree and dried his plumage as he flew.
On the borders of a wood he spied some scattered grains of wheat. He was hungry and saw no reason why he should not pick them up. As he flew down, a snare was drawn about him. The wheat had been put there to tempt pigeons so that they might get caught. It was well for Blue-feather that the snare had been in use a long time and was rotten. By using his beak and wings he got loose, but he lost a few feathers out of his pretty coat.
A hawk saw him as he rose. Blue-feather was dragging a piece of the string which he could not loosen from his leg. The hawk was about to seize him. It seemed as if there was no help for him. But just at that moment an eagle caught the hawk and carried him off.
Blue-feather flew as fast as he could to a high fence, where he stopped to rest. He thought his dangers were over. He was very homesick.
While Blue-feather was sitting on the fence, a boy saw him. He nearly killed the poor bird with a shot from his sling.
Blue-feather was just able to fly. His leg was lame, and one wing was hurt, but he steered straight for home.
Late at night he arrived at his own dovecote, tired and hungry, but happy to be safe at home again. He found White-coat waiting for him.
White-coat smoothed his poor brother's feathers, nestled close to him, and soothed him with his coo! coo! coo!
A horse, in the early spring, was turned into a pasture of fresh grass. He was enjoying himself very much when a hungry wolf spied him. The horse did not see the wolf.
The wolf said, "I want that horse. I have not had a good meal for a month. He is so big that I can not catch him as I would a sheep. I shall have to play a trick." So he lay down on the ground and thought how he could deceive the horse and then catch him.
"I have it," he said at last. "I will be a doctor. The horse is sound and well, but I will make him think that he needs a doctor; then I shall tell him that I can cure him." The wolf smacked his lips as he thought of the meal he would soon have.
He marched into the pasture in a very business-like way. Going right up to the horse, he said:
"Good morning, my dear sir. This is fine grass you are eating and a beautiful morning to be out. I am sorry to see you looking so poorly this bright day. I happen to be a doctor. As you know, a good doctor can tell at sight when one is sick. If you were well, you would not have been turned out to pasture. You know that there is much work to be done at this time of the year. Your master must think that you are not able to work.
"Now, my friend, be frank with me; tell me what ails you, that I may cure you. I have been to the best schools in the country. There I learned about diseases of every kind and a sure cure for every disease. If you have no money to pay my bill, do not let that trouble you. We can settle that later."
The horse looked at the wolf out of the corner of his eye and said, "Now that I think of it, I believe that something is wrong with the bottom of my left hind foot."
All the time the wolf had been looking for a good chance to spring upon the horse, but the horse did not let him get out of his sight for an instant.
When the horse told of his trouble the wolf replied, "Yes, I understand just what is the matter. There are many others having that same trouble this year. I have had as many as twenty cases. All are doing well. Let me look at your foot. Raise it now, please, care—"
At this instant the horse raised his foot, and with it gave the wolf such a terrible kick in his face that he fell heavily to the ground. The horse went on feeding.
As soon as the wolf was able to get up, he went groaning out of the field. He was cured of one thing, but the medicine was very bitter.
There was once a terrible war between the birds and the beasts. For a long time it was doubtful which would win.
The bat said, "I am not a bird and I am not a beast, so I shall fight on neither side."
At last the beasts seemed to be gaining the victory. The bat flew to them and said, "I am a beast. Look at my body and you will see that I am. I shall fight on your side."
New flocks of birds came to help their relatives, and the battle soon turned against the beasts.
Then the bat skulked over to the other side. "I am a bird," said he. "I can prove it by my wings," and he fought with the birds.
At last the war was over. The bat was hated by beasts and birds. Both made war upon him. He was obliged to slink off and hide in dark places during the day, never showing his face until dusk.
Some working bees had made their comb in the hollow trunk of an oak.
The drones said, "We made that comb. It belongs to us."
"You did not make that comb," replied the workers. "You know very well that you did not. We made it."
The drones answered, "That comb belongs to us and we are going to have it."
So the workers took the case to Judge Wasp that he might decide the matter.
The workers and the drones settled down before him. "You workers and drones," said he, "are so much alike in shape and color that it is hard to tell which has been seen in the tree. But I think the matter can be justly decided. Each party may go to a hive in which there is no honey, and build up a new comb. The one that makes comb and honey like that found in the tree is the owner of the tree comb."
"All right," said the workers, "we will do it;" but the drones said, "We will have nothing to do with such a plan."
So Judge Wasp said, "It is plain to see which of you made the comb. It belongs to the workers."
The drones buzzed away very angry, but they were not able to harm the workers or the judge, and the workers went back to their tree.
One day a poor woodman lost his ax. He hunted all day, but he could not find it. He was very sad, for how could he make a living for his family without an ax? Besides he had no money with which to buy a new one. As night came on, he sank down by the roadside and buried his face in his hands.
He heard a noise in the bushes and raised his head. A stranger was standing by him. "What is the matter?" asked the stranger. The woodman told him of his trouble.
"I am sorry your ax is lost," said the stranger. "Would you know it if you were to see it? I found an ax in the road. It may be yours. Is this it?" he asked, holding out a gold ax.
"No," answered the woodman, "that is not my ax. All the money I ever earned would not buy such an ax as that."
"I found another," said the man. "This must be the one," and he held out a silver ax.
"No, that is not mine," replied the woodman. "I am too poor a man to own such an ax as that."
"Well, here is another ax that I found. Is this yours?" The stranger held out an old ax of steel.
"That is mine, oh, that is mine!" cried the woodman, springing up joyously and taking his ax from the stranger. "Now we shall not starve. Thank you, kind sir. Where did you find it?"
The stranger said, "All three of the axes are yours. I am glad to make you a present of the gold ax and the silver ax. Let me have your hand. I am happy to meet an honest man."
The woodman's neighbors heard of his good fortune. One of them lost his ax. He appeared to feel very sad over his loss. He sat down by the roadside and bowed his head, looking out of the corners of his eyes for the stranger.
At last he saw the stranger coming around a bend in the road. The sun shown upon a gold ax which he carried in his hand. He stopped in front of the woodman. "Why do you grieve, my friend?" he asked.
"I have lost my ax with which I earned my living," the woodman replied.
"Cheer up," said the stranger. "I have an ax here. Is it yours?"
"That is the very one," said the woodman. "Thank you, stranger," and he reached out his hand to take the gold ax.
But the stranger drew back, and put the ax behind him. "It is not your ax. It is my own, and you wish to claim it. You are both dishonest and untruthful;" and he turned away.
Reynard lost his tail in a trap. Now a fox is proud of two things—his cunning and his tail. He had allowed himself to be trapped. This showed his lack of cunning, and he had lost his tail.
He was so ashamed of himself that he could not bear to meet another fox. He slunk off to his den and came out only when driven by hunger. When out hunting, he kept out of the way of all his neighbors. He did not mean that any of them should know of his bad luck.
At last he grew tired of living by himself. He wanted to gossip with his friends.
He wondered whether old Rufus was still running on top of the great meadow fence to throw the hounds off the track.
He longed to hear of the latest tricks of Fleetfoot's cubs. They were three of the brightest little foxes that ever lived. He wished that he could see them at their play.
He wished to know if the men were still cutting down trees near White-ear's den. If this went on, White-ear would have to find a new home. It would be hard for her after living in that beautiful spot so long.
If he were to hear the news at all, he must meet his comrades. "How can I bear to listen to their laugh!" he moaned.
He had not lost all of his cunning, as you will see. He lay for a long time with his head between his paws. His eyes were wide open, but he was not watching for game. He was thinking.
After a while he jumped up. He said to himself:
"I shall invite all of my friends to come to my home to-morrow evening. I shall tell them when they reach here that I can not get up to meet them for I have been very sick. They will all gather about me here. I shall sit upon my haunches so that no one will ever find out that my tail is missing. As they are to be my guests, I must be the spokesman. My friends have always thought me to be a very fine speaker. Many times my advice has been asked. I have given it, and it paid my friends to follow it. The thing which I shall advise to-morrow will surprise them, but I feel sure that I can get my friends to follow it. I will set to work now preparing for the feast."
Early the next evening Reynard gave a series of strange barks. This was an invitation to his home. The foxes came from every direction and met at the foot of an old oak.
Reynard's den was under this oak. He sat upon his haunches near the door to welcome his guests as they came, but he did not move.
"You all know, friends, why I do not rise to welcome you," he said. "I have been very sick, and if I move about it gives me a very bad headache."
Reynard asked his friends, who were standing around him, what they had been doing for the last week or so. They told many interesting stories of how they had escaped from traps and dogs and men.
A pile of chickens, turkeys, and ducks lay in sight not far away. As they talked, their eyes often wandered to these.
It grew late. The company became a little restless. At last Reynard said:
"Now, friends, before we take our evening meal, I have something to say for the good of all of us.
"I have been lying awake nights thinking what we could do to free ourselves from the weight of our heavy tails. Spring is here with its rainy weather. You all know how wet and muddy our tails become. Often I have had to give up a first-class meal and trot off home, hungry, to stay until my tail had dried. You have had to do the same. Many a poor fox has lost his life because of his long tail.
"Now, what do you say to having our tails cut off? Think what free lives we shall then lead. I will cut them off if you wish. The cutting will be almost painless, I am sure. Now let us have them off in a hurry before supper. After our feast, we shall have a great dance."
His visitors were silent for a moment. Some nodded their heads, showing that they were ready to part with their tails.
The oldest and wisest fox in the crowd had been looking at Reynard very closely. He was the only one of all that crowd to miss Reynard's tail. At last he spoke slowly:
"Your advice may be good, but before I reply, pray turn yourself around."
Poor Reynard saw that he was found out. He dared not refuse to do as he was told, so he turned about.
What a shout the foxes gave! Poor bobtail could not say a word. The foxes seized the turkeys, ducks, and chickens, and ran off home with their long tails behind them, and poor Reynard was never again seen by any of them.
One day a blackbird and a dove called upon a peacock.
The peacock received both of them very kindly in his arbor.
"I have long wished to meet you," said the blackbird. "Many have told me of your beauty and of your grace. I find that they did not tell me half." He stroked the peacock's coat lovingly as he praised him.
The dove was silent.
At last they bade the peacock good-by, the blackbird making many low bows.
As they started home, the blackbird said, "I hope I may never meet that stupid peacock again. I can not bear him. Did you notice his feet? I felt like laughing every time I looked at them. His voice makes me shudder. What can anyone see to praise in that bird?"
"I did not notice his feet nor his voice," said the dove. "He has a noble form and his dress is very beautiful. The rainbow and the flowers are not more beautiful."
The blackbird turned away in shame. He wished to hear fault found with the peacock, but the dove gave only the highest praise.
"What a good time I shall have eating this meat when I get home!" said a dog as it started to cross a stream of water.
He stopped suddenly and looked down into the water. There was his shadow. "That dog has a larger piece of meat than I," he said. "I want that piece of meat and I will have it!"
He growled, but the dog in the water did not move nor did he drop his piece of meat.
He snapped at the dog in the water. He was soon sorry for that, for the meat slipped from his mouth and sank to the bottom of the stream, and the dog in the water lost his meat at the same time.
One day a farmer bought a goose and took it home.
The next day the goose laid an egg of solid gold.
"That is a wonderful goose," said the farmer, and he took the egg to a jeweler to find out its value.
"It is pure gold," said the jeweler, and he paid the farmer a big price for it.
Each day the goose laid a gold egg. The farmer had a dozen.
"I shall soon be a rich man," he said, "but I do wish the goose would lay more than one egg a day."
After the goose had laid many eggs, the farmer said, "That goose has many more gold eggs for me. I will not wait for one a day. I will kill the goose, open it, and get all the eggs at once."
So he killed the goose and opened it, but what do you think? There was not one egg to be found.
"How I hate this early rising!" said a donkey, with a great yawn. "I wish I might sleep till sunrise. Here I am, harnessed and ready to start to town before the roosters crow. And why? To take a little fruit and a few vegetables to market. Isn't that a foolish reason for spoiling my dreams!"
The master was tired of his donkey, for he never seemed willing to do his work. "I do hate a donkey with his ears turned backward," he said. "He has no right to complain, for his work is really light, and he gets plenty of food and rest."
One day a tanner came along. He saw what a strong donkey the gardener drove, and asked his price. The gardener was glad to sell him. "I hope he will enjoy his new work," said the gardener. "He never seemed quite happy with me."
The tanner used the donkey to carry hides. These were heavy and bad-smelling. They almost made him sick.
"Oh, dear!" the donkey groaned one day. "I wish I were back with the gardener. The vegetables were fresh and I was often given a cabbage leaf or a beet top. I did have to get out early, to be sure, but I did not work late. Here I must work early and late, and if I turn out of the road to get a mouthful of grass, I am beaten soundly. I hate this work and this place."
The donkey was so ill-natured that the tanner sold him to a coal miner. He was lowered into a coal mine, where he had to pass his time pulling loads of coal. The mine was dark, and he was kept very busy.
"This is very bad," he cried. "I wish I were with the gardener, or even with the tanner. Anything would be better than working in this dismal hole in the ground." But there he ended his unhappy life.
A cobbler worked in his shop from morning until night, and as he worked he sang. Tired people who heard him were rested, and sad men and women were cheered as they came near the shop. Children visited him and watched him at his work and heard him sing. They called him "Jolly Gregory."
"How can he sing when he works so hard and makes so little?" many asked; but still his singing went on.
Across the road from the cobbler lived a rich man. His home was beautiful, his clothes fine, and his fare the best that money could buy; but never in his life had he been known to give to anyone who needed help. He was really poor, for he lacked one thing which he very much wanted—sleep. Sometimes he could not get to sleep until early morning; then his neighbor's song would waken him. He wished that sleep could be bought for money.
One day he said to himself, "I believe I will help that cobbler over the way. He has a hard time to make enough money to buy his food and clothes." So he sent for the cobbler.
"Honest Gregory," he said "how much do you earn in a year?"
"How much a year?" replied the cobbler, scratching his head. "I never reckon my money in that way. It goes as fast as it comes, but I am glad to be able to earn it. I cobble on from day to day and earn a living."
"Well then, Gregory, how much do you earn each day?" asked the rich man.
"Why, sometimes more and sometimes less," answered the cobbler. "On many days—the holidays—I earn nothing. I wish there were fewer of these; but then we manage to live."
"You are a happy man now," said the rich man, "but I will make you happier," and he handed the cobbler five hundred dollars. "Go spend this money carefully. It will supply your needs for many days," he said.
The cobbler had never dreamed of so much money before. He thought it was enough to keep him in food and clothes all his life.
He took the money home and hid it, but he hid his joy with it. He stopped singing and became sad. He could not sleep for fear of robbers. He thought that everyone who came into his shop was trying to find out his secret, or wished a gift. When a cat ran over the floor, he thought a thief had slipped through the door.
At last, poor man, he could bear it no longer. He took the money, hurried to the rich man, and cried, "Oh, give me back my songs and my sweet sleep! Here is your money, every cent of it. I made a poor trade."
The rich man looked at him and said, "I thought I had made you happy. I have not missed your songs, for, strange as it may seem, I have been sleeping soundly ever since I talked with you."
A tribe of Indians lived near a river. One winter the weather was very cold, and many of them died.
But spring came at last. The snow melted from the tops of the mountains and ran in torrents down their steep sides and into the river.
The ice in the swollen river broke up into large cakes which floated down the stream.
The weather grew warmer. All the ice melted except one big cake which the flood had left on the bank of the river.
The sun had been shining on this piece of ice for many days, but it would not melt. There were signs of spring everywhere except in this one spot.
A brave warrior had been watching this piece of ice. He said to himself, "That is the Ice King, I am sure. I must conquer him."
He raised his big war club and struck the Ice King, crying, "Come on, Ice King! Do your best. Freeze me if you can. I will show you that I am as strong as you are."
He struck again and again, and the Ice King began to shrink. Pieces of ice floated down the river. At last he became so small that the Indian picked him up and tossed him into the river.
"There!" cried the Indian, "off with you! Never dare to come back here again."
The Ice King whirled about and screamed, "I go now, but I shall come again. Look for me next winter. I will show you then which of us is the stronger."
The Indian hunted and fished all summer, but when autumn was near he began to think of the threat of the Ice King. "He will keep his word," said the Indian, "and I must get ready to fight him."
The Indian placed his wigwam among the trees, where it was well sheltered from the winds. Near it he heaped up a large pile of dry wood. Then he caught some large fish and tried out their fat so that he might have plenty of oil. He made thick clothes for himself out of the skins of animals. During the summer he had gathered much wild rice, and now he dried meat. While he was getting ready, the weather was becoming colder.
At last all was done, and the Indian said, as he sat by his blazing fire, "Let the Ice King come. I am ready for him."
That night the Ice King froze the little pools of water. After a few days the lakes and rivers were frozen. It was very cold.
One night when the Indian was sitting by his fire, the Ice King stepped to the door of the wigwam. He walked boldly to the fire and sat down opposite the Indian.
How cold the Ice King's breath felt! It nearly put out the fire. The poor Indian shivered, but he said to himself, "The Ice King shall not conquer me." He jumped up and threw dry wood on the fire. Then he poured oil upon the wood. The fire blazed up. The Indian put on more wood and more oil. The fire roared and crackled.
The Ice King began to feel too warm. He moved back a little way. The fire became hotter. The Ice King moved farther back. He began to sweat and to grow smaller and weaker. Then he cried out, "My friend, I am conquered. Let me go! Oh, let me go!"
The Indian arose and pushed the fire back from the Ice King. Then he took his trembling hand, lifted him up, and led him to the door of the wigwam.
As the Ice King passed out he said, "You have conquered me twice. You shall always be my master."
Ever since that time men have been masters of the Ice King. When his cold breath blows, they make the fires warmer and their clothing thicker.
[Footnote: Adapted from "The Ice Man" in Legends of the MicMacs, published by S. T. Rand; permission to use given by Helen S. Webster, owner of copyright.]
"Good-by, little one," said Mrs. White Paw, the goat, to her daughter.
"Do not go, mother, I am afraid to stay here alone," cried little Nanny.
"But I must get my dinner or you will have no milk for your supper," said her mother.
"There is nothing to fear but the prowling wolf. Bar the door when I am gone; then he can not get in. Do not open the door unless you hear this password, 'Cursed be the wolf and all his race!'"
The mother, as she trotted away, felt no fear for her little daughter's safety. "No one knows that password but myself," she said; "but I shall be very glad when Nanny is old enough to go out with me to dine on the green hill. She is lonely when I am gone."
Little Nanny was not as safe as the mother thought, for slinking in the bushes near Mrs. White Paw's home was the hateful wolf. He heard the password which the mother gave to her little one, and laughed at the thought of the good feast which he should have by and by.
After the mother had been away for some time, the wolf sneaked to the door of the little house. He knocked, and gave the password, "Cursed be the wolf and all his race." in a voice much like that of Mrs. White Paw.
Nanny started to open the door, thinking that her mother had come home; but she stopped, for the voice had not sounded quite like her mother's voice. "I will make sure that it is no one but my mother," she said to herself. So she called, "Mother, show me your white paw before I open the door."
The wolf was angry, for he had no white paw to show. He gave a long, angry howl and went away.
The mother heard the howl as she turned her face homeward. "That will frighten Nanny," she said, and she hurried home. On reaching the house, she knocked and called in a cheery voice, "Cursed be the wolf and all his race."
Nanny did not open the door at once. She called back, "Show me your white paw, mother."
Mrs. White Paw put her paw to the crack in the door, and the door flew open.
"Why did you not let me in as soon as I gave the password, Nanny?" asked her mother.
Nanny told her of the wolf's visit. Mrs. White Paw was very proud of her wise daughter.
"Now have your supper, my brave Nanny, and go to bed. How glad I am that you are safe!" said the happy mother.