Whoever comes here, will die, will die!
Whoever comes here, will die, will die!
At this all the dancers grew so frightened that theyburst through the ring of their captors, and ran back to the village, the turtles following—very slowly. On the way the chief turtle met a man, who said to him:
‘That woman who was to have been your wife has married another man!’
‘Is that true?’ said the turtle. ‘Then I must see him.’
But as soon as the villager was out of sight the turtle stopped, and taking a bundle containing fringes and ornaments from his back, he hung them about him, so that they rattled as he walked. When he was quite close to the hut where the woman lived, he cried out:
‘Here I am to claim the woman who promised to be my wife.’
‘Oh, here is the turtle,’ whispered the husband hurriedly; ‘what is to be done now?’
‘Leave that to me; I will manage him,’ replied the wife, and at that moment the turtle came in, and seized her by the wrist. ‘Come with me,’ he said sternly.
‘You broke your promise,’ answered she. ‘You said you would be back soon, and it is more than a year since you went! How was I to know that you were alive?’
At her words the husband took courage, and spoke hastily:
‘Yes, you promised you would go to war and bring back some prisoners, and you have not done it.’
‘Ididgo, and made many prisoners,’ retorted the turtle angrily, drawing out his knife. ‘Look here, if she won’t bemywife, she sha’n’t beyours. I will cut her in two; and you shall have one half, and I the other.’
‘But half a woman is no use to me,’ answered the man. ‘If you want her so much you had better take her.’ And the turtle, followed by his relations, carried her off to his own hut.
The woman carries the turtle to his bath
Now the woman saw she would gain nothing by being sulky, so she pretended to be very glad to have got rid of her husband; but all the while she was trying to invent aplan to deliver herself from the turtle. At length she remembered that one of her friends had a large iron pot, and when the turtle had gone to his room to put away his fringes, she ran over to her neighbour’s and brought it back. Then she filled it with water and hung it over the fire to boil. It was just beginning to bubble and hiss when the turtle entered.
‘What are you doing there?’ asked he, for he was always afraid of things that he did not understand.
‘Just warming some water,’ she answered. ‘Do you know how to swim?’
‘Yes, of course I do. What a question! But what does it matter to you?’ said the turtle, more suspicious than ever.
‘Oh, I only thought that after your long journey you might like to wash. The roads are so muddy, after the winter’s rains. I could rub your shell for you till it was bright and shining again.’
‘Well, Iamrather muddy. If one is fighting, you know, one cannot stop to pick one’s way. I should certainly be more comfortable if my back was washed.’
The woman did not wait for him to change his mind. She caught him up by his shell and popped him straight into the pot, where he sank to the bottom, and died instantly.
The other turtles, who were standing at the door, saw their leader disappear, and felt it was their duty as soldiers to follow him; and, springing into the pot, died too. All but one young turtle, who, frightened at not seeing any of his friends come out again, went as fast as he could to a clump of bushes, and from there made his way to the river. His only thought was to get away as far as possible from that dreadful hut; so he let the river carry him where it was going itself, and at last, one day, he found himself in the warm sea, where, if he is not dead, you may meet him still.
[Bureau of Ethnology.]
Once upon a time there lived a poor knight who had a great many children, and found it very hard to get enough for them to eat. One day he sent his eldest son, Rosald, a brave and honest youth, to the neighbouring town to do some business, and here Rosald met a young man named Geirald, with whom he made friends.
Now Geirald was the son of a rich man, who was proud of the boy, and had all his life allowed him to do whatever he fancied, and, luckily for the father, he was prudent and sensible, and did not waste money, as many other rich young men might have done. For some time he had set his heart on travelling into foreign countries, and after he had been talking for a little while to Rosald, he asked if his new friend would be his companion on his journey.
‘There is nothing I should like better,’ answered Rosald, shaking his head sorrowfully; ‘but my father is very poor, and he could never give me the money.’
‘Oh, if that is your only difficulty, it is all right,’ cried Geirald. ‘My father has more money than he knows what to do with, and he will give me as much as I want for both of us; only, there is one thing you must promise me, Rosald, that, supposing we have any adventures, you will let the honour and glory of them fall to me.’
‘Yes, of course, that is only fair,’ answered Rosald, who never cared about putting himself forward. ‘But I cannot go without telling my parents. I am sure they will think me lucky to get such a chance.’
As soon as the business was finished, Rosald hastened home. His parents were delighted to hear of his good fortune, and his father gave him his own sword, which was growing rusty for want of use, while his mother saw that his leather jerkin was in order.
‘Be sure you keep the promise you made to Geirald,’ said she, as she bade him good-bye, ‘and, come what may, see that you never betray him.’
Full of joy Rosald rode off, and the next day he and Geirald started off to seek adventures. To their disappointment their own land was so well governed that nothing out of the common was very likely to happen, but directly they crossed the border into another kingdom all seemed lawlessness and confusion.
They had not gone very far, when, riding across a mountain, they caught a glimpse of several armed men hiding amongst some trees in their path, and remembered suddenly some talk they had heard of a band of twelve robbers who lay in wait for rich travellers. The robbers were more like savage beasts than men, and lived somewhere at the top of the mountain in caves and holes in the ground. They were all called ‘Hankur,’ and were distinguished one from another by the name of a colour—blue, grey, red, and so on, except their chief, who was known as Hankur the Tall. All this and more rushed into the minds of the two young men as they saw the flash of their swords in the moonlight.
‘It is impossible to fight them—they are twelve to two,’ whispered Geirald, stopping his horse in the path. ‘We had much better ride back and take the lower road. It would be stupid to throw away our lives like this.’
‘Oh, we can’t turn back,’ answered Rosald, ‘we should be ashamed to look anyone in the face again! And, besides, it is a grand opportunity to show what we are made of. Let us tie up our horses here, and climb up the rocks so that we can roll stones down on them.’
‘Well, we might try that, and then we shall alwayshave our horses,’ said Geirald. So they went up the rocks silently and carefully.
The robbers were lying all ready, expecting every moment to see their victims coming round the corner a few yards away, when a shower of huge stones fell on their heads, killing half the band. The others sprang up the rock, but as they reached the top the sword of Rosald swung round, and one man after another rolled down into the valley. At last the chief managed to spring up, and, grasping Rosald by the waist, flung away his sword, and the two fought desperately, their bodies swaying always nearer the edge. It seemed as if Rosald, being the smaller of the two,mustfall over, when, with his left hand, he drew the robber’s sword out of its sheath and plunged it into his heart. Then he took from the dead man a beautiful ring set with a large stone, and put it on his own finger.
The fame of this wonderful deed soon spread through the country, and people would often stop Geirald’s horse, and ask leave to see the robber’s ring, which was said to have been stolen from the father of the reigning king. And Geirald showed them the ring with pride, and listened to their words of praise, and no one would ever have guessed anyone else had destroyed the robbers.
In a few days they left that kingdom and rode on to another, where they thought they would stop through the remainder of the winter, for Geirald liked to be comfortable, and did not care about travelling through ice and snow. But the king would only grant them leave to stop on condition that, before the winter was ended, they should give him some fresh proof of the courage of which he had heard so much. Rosald’s heart was glad at the king’s message, and as for Geirald, he felt that as long as Rosald was there all would go well. So they both bowed low and replied that it was the king’s place to command and theirs to obey.
‘Well, then,’ said his Majesty, ‘this is what I wantyou to do: In the north-east part of my kingdom there dwells a giant, who has an iron staff twenty yards long, and he is so quick in using it, that even fifty knights have no chance against him. The bravest and strongest young men of my court have fallen under the blows of that staff; but, as you overcame the twelve robbers so easily, I feel that I have reason to hope that you may be able to conquer the giant. In three days from this you will set out.’
‘We will be ready, your Majesty,’ answered Rosald; but Geirald remained silent.
‘How can we possibly fight against a giant that has killed fifty knights?’ cried Geirald, when they were outside the castle. ‘The king only wants to get rid of us! He won’t think about us for the next three days—that is one comfort—so we shall have plenty of time to cross the borders of the kingdom and be out of his reach.’
‘We mayn’t be able to kill the giant, but we certainly can’t run away till we have tried,’ answered Rosald. ‘Besides, think how glorious it will be if wedomanage to kill him! I know what sort of weapon I shall use. Come with me now, and I will see about it.’ And, taking his friend by the arm, he led him into a shop where he bought a huge lump of solid iron, so big that they could hardly lift it between them. However, they just managed to carry it to a blacksmith’s where Rosald directed that it should be beaten into a thick club, with a sharp spike at one end. When this was done to his liking he took it home under his arm.
Very early on the third morning the two young men started on their journey, and on the fourth day they reached the giant’s cave before he was out of bed. Hearing the sound of footsteps, the giant got up and went to the entrance to see who was coming, and Rosald, expecting something of the sort, struck him such a blowon the forehead that he fell to the ground. Then, before he could rise to his feet again, Rosald drew out his sword and cut off his head.
‘It was not so difficult after all, you see,’ he said, turning to Geirald. And placing the giant’s head in a leathern wallet which was slung over his back, they began their journey to the castle.
As they drew near the gates, Rosald took the head from the wallet and handed it to Geirald, whom he followed into the king’s presence.
‘The giant will trouble you no more,’ said Geirald, holding out the head. And the king fell on his neck and kissed him, and cried joyfully that he was the bravest knight in all the world, and that a feast should be made for him and Rosald, and that the great deed should be proclaimed throughout the kingdom. And Geirald’s heart swelled with pride, and he almost forgot that it was Rosald and not he, who had slain the giant.
By-and-by a whisper went round that a beautiful lady who lived in the castle would be present at the feast, with twenty-four lovely maidens, her attendants. The lady was the queen of her own country, but as her father and mother had died when she was a little girl, she had been left in the care of this king who was her uncle.
She was now old enough to govern her own kingdom, but her subjects did not like being ruled by a woman, and said that she must find a husband to help her in managing her affairs. Prince after prince had offered himself, but the young queen would have nothing to say to any of them, and at last told her ministers that if she was to have a husband at all she must choose him for herself, as she would certainly not marry any of those whom they had selected for her. The ministers replied that in that case she had better manage her kingdom alone, and the queen, who knew nothing about business, got things into such a confusion that at last she threw them up altogether, and went off to her uncle.
Now when she heard how the two young men had slain the giant, her heart was filled with admiration of their courage, and she declared that if a feast was held she would certainly be present at it.
Geirald holds out the head of the giant to the king
And so she was; and when the feast was over sheasked the king, her guardian, if he would allow the two heroes who had killed the robbers and slain the giant to fight a tourney the next day with one of her pages. The king gladly gave his consent, and ordered the lists to be made ready, never doubting that two great champions would be eager for such a chance of adding to their fame. Little did he guess that Geirald had done all he could to persuade Rosald to steal secretly out of the castle during the night, ‘for,’ said he, ‘I don’t believe they are pages at all, but well-proved knights, and how can we, so young and untried, stand up against them?’
‘The honour will be all the higher if we gain the day,’ answered Rosald; but Geirald would listen to nothing, and only declared that he did not care about honour, and would rather be alive than have every honour in the world heaped on him. Go he would, and as Rosald had sworn to give him his company, he must come with him.
Rosald was much grieved when he heard these words, but he knew that it was useless attempting to persuade Geirald, and turned his thoughts to forming some plan to prevent this disgraceful flight. Suddenly his face brightened. ‘Let us change clothes,’ he said, ‘andIwill do the fighting, while you shall get the glory. Nobody will ever know.’ And to this Geirald readily consented.
Whether Geirald was right or not in thinking that the so-called page was really a well-proved knight, it is certain that Rosald’s task was a very hard one. Three times they came together with a crash which made their horses reel; once Rosald knocked the helmet off his foe, and received in return such a blow that he staggered in his saddle. Shouts went up from the lookers-on, as first one and then the other seemed gaining the victory; but at length Rosald planted his spear in the armour which covered his adversary’s breast and bore him steadily backward. ‘Unhorsed! unhorsed!’ cried the people; and Rosald then himself dismounted and helped his adversary to rise.
Geirald claims his reward and the queen demands another test
In the confusion that followed it was easy for Rosaldto slip away and return Geirald his proper clothes. And in these, torn and dusty with the fight, Geirald answered the king’s summons to come before him.
‘You have done what I expected you to do,’ said he, ‘and now, choose your reward.’
‘Grant me, sire, the hand of the queen, your niece,’ replied the young man, bowing low, ‘and I will defend her kingdom against all her enemies.’
‘She could choose no better husband,’ said the king, ‘and if she consents I do.’ And he turned towards the queen, who had not been present during the fight, but had just slipped into a seat by his right hand. Now the queen’s eyes were very sharp, and it seemed to her that the man who stood before her, tall and handsome though he might be, was different in many slight ways, and in one in particular, from the man who had fought the tourney. How there could be any trickery she could not understand, and why the real victor should be willing to give up his prize to another was still stranger; but something in her heart warned her to be careful. She answered: ‘You may be satisfied, uncle, butIam not. One more proof I must have; let the two young men now fight against each other. The manImarry must be the man who killed the robbers and the giant, and overcame my page.’ Geirald’s face grew pale as he heard these words. He knew there was no escape for him now, though he did not doubt for one moment that Rosald would keep his compact loyally to the last. But how would it be possible that even Rosald should deceive the watchful eyes of the king and his court, and still more those of the young queen whom he felt uneasily had suspected him from the first?
The tourney was fought, and in spite of Geirald’s fears Rosald managed to hang back to make attacks which were never meant to succeed, and to allow strokes which he could easily have parried to attain their end. At length, after a great show of resistance, he fell heavily to theground. And as he fell he knew that it was not alone the glory that was his rightfully which he gave up, but the hand of the queen that was more precious still.
But Geirald did not even wait to see if he was wounded; he went straight to the wall where the royal banner waved and claimed the reward which was now his.
The crowd of watchers turned towards the queen, expecting to see her stoop and give some token to the victor. Instead, to the surprise of everyone, she merely smiled gracefully, and said that before she bestowed her hand one more test must be imposed, but this should be the last. The final tourney should be fought; Geirald and Rosald should meet singly two knights of the king’s court, and he who could unhorse his foe should be master of herself and of her kingdom. The combat was fixed to take place at ten o’clock the following day.
All night long Geirald walked about his room, not daring to face the fight that lay in front of him, and trying with all his might to discover some means of escaping it. All night long he moved restlessly from door to window; and when the trumpets sounded, and the combatants rode into the field, he alone was missing. The king sent messengers to see what had become of him, and he was found, trembling with fear, hiding under his bed. After that there was no need of any further proof. The combat was declared unnecessary, and the queen pronounced herself quite satisfied, and ready to accept Rosald as her husband.
‘You forgot one thing,’ she said, when they were alone. ‘I recognised my father’s ring which Hankur the Tall had stolen, on the finger of your right hand, and I knew that it was you and not Geirald who had slain the robber band.Iwas the page who fought you, and again I saw the ring on your finger, though it was absent from his when he stood before me to claim the prize. That was why I ordered the combat between you, though your faith to your word prevented my plan being successful,and I had to try another. The man who keeps his promise at all costs to himself is the man I can trust, both for myself and for my people.’
So they were married, and returned to their own kingdom, which they ruled well and happily. And many years after a poor beggar knocked at the palace gates and asked for money, for the sake of days gone by—and this was Geirald.
[FromNeuisländischen Volksmärchen.]
Once upon a time there lived two peasants who had three daughters, and, as generally happens, the youngest was the most beautiful and the best tempered, and when her sisters wanted to go out she was always ready to stay at home and do their work.
Years passed quickly with the whole family, and one day the parents suddenly perceived that all three girls were grown up, and that very soon they would be thinking of marriage.
‘Have you decided what your husband’s name is to be?’ said the father, laughingly, to his eldest daughter, one evening when they were all sitting at the door of their cottage. ‘You know that is a very important point!’
‘Yes; I will never wed any man who is not called Sigmund,’ answered she.
‘Well, it is lucky for you that there are a great many Sigmunds in this part of the world,’ replied her father, ‘so that you can take your choice! And what doyousay?’ he added, turning to the second.
‘Oh,Ithink that there is no name so beautiful as Sigurd,’ cried she.
‘Then you won’t be an old maid either,’ answered he. ‘There are seven Sigurds in the next village alone! And you, Helga?’
Helga, who was still the prettiest of the three, looked up. She also had her favourite name, but, just as she was going to say it, she seemed to hear a voice whisper: ‘Marry no one who is not called Hábogi.’
The girl had never heard of such a name, and did not like it, so she determined to pay no attention; but as she opened her mouth to tell her father that her husband must be called Njal, she found herself answering instead: ‘If I do marry it will be to no one except Hábogi.’
‘WhoisHábogi?’ asked her father and sisters; ‘We never heard of such a person.’
‘All I can tell you is that he will be my husband, if ever I have one,’ returned Helga; and that was all she would say.
Before very long the young men who lived in the neighbouring villages or on the sides of the mountains, had heard of this talk of the three girls, and Sigmunds and Sigurds in scores came to visit the little cottage. There were other young men too, who bore different names, though not one of them was called ‘Hábogi,’ and these thought that they might perhaps gain the heart of the youngest. But though there was more than one ‘Njal’ amongst them, Helga’s eyes seemed always turned another way.
At length the two elder sisters made their choice from out of the Sigurds and the Sigmunds, and it was decided that both weddings should take place at the same time. Invitations were sent out to the friends and relations, and when, on the morning of the great day, they were all assembled, a rough, coarse old peasant left the crowd and came up to the brides’ father.
‘My name is Hábogi, and Helga must be my wife,’ was all he said. And though Helga stood pale and trembling with surprise, she did not try to run away.
‘I cannot talk of such things just now,’ answered the father, who could not bear the thought of giving his favourite daughter to this horrible old man, and hoped, by putting it off, that something might happen. But the sisters, who had always been rather jealous of Helga, were secretly pleased that their bridegrooms should outshine hers.
When the feast was over, Hábogi led up a beautiful horse from a field where he had left it to graze, and bade Helga jump up on its splendid saddle, all embroidered in scarlet and gold. ‘You shall come back again,’ said he; ‘but now you must see the house that you are to live in.’ And though Helga was very unwilling to go, something inside her forced her to obey.
The old man settled her comfortably, then sprang up in front of her as easily as if he had been a boy, and, shaking the reins, they were soon out of sight.
After some miles they rode through a meadow, with grass so green that Helga’s eyes felt quite dazzled; and feeding on the grass were a quantity of large fat sheep, with the curliest and whitest wool in the world.
‘What lovely sheep! whose are they?’ cried Helga.
‘Your Hábogi’s,’ answered he, ‘all that you see belongs to him; but the finest sheep in the whole herd, which has little golden bells hanging between its horns, you shall have for yourself.’
This pleased Helga very much, for she had never had anything of her own; and she smiled quite happily as she thanked Hábogi for his present.
They soon left the sheep behind them, and entered a large field with a river running through it, where a number of beautiful grey cows were standing by a gate waiting for a milk-maid to come and milk them.
‘Oh, what lovely cows!’ cried Helga again; ‘I am sure their milk must be sweeter than any other cows’. How I should like to have some! I wonder to whom they belong?’
‘To your Hábogi,’ replied he; ‘and some day you shall have as much milk as you like, but we cannot stop now. Do you see that big grey one, with the silver bells between her horns? That is to be yours, and you can have her milked every morning the moment you wake.’
And Helga’s eyes shone, and though she did not sayanything, she thought that she would learn to milk the cow herself.
Habogi and Helga ride through the herd of horses
A mile further on they came to a wide common, with short, springy turf, where horses of all colours, with skins of satin, were kicking up their heels in play. The sight of them so delighted Helga that she nearly sprang from her saddle with a shriek of joy.
‘Whose are they? Oh! whose are they?’ she asked. ‘How happy any man must be who is the master of such lovely creatures!’
‘They are your Hábogi’s,’ replied he, ‘and the one which you think the most beautiful of all you shall have for yourself, and learn to ride him.’
At this Helga quite forgot the sheep and the cow.
‘A horse of my own!’ said she. ‘Oh, stop one moment, and let me see which I will choose. The white one? No. The chestnut? No. I think, after all, I like the coal-black one best, with the little white star on his forehead. Oh, do stop, just for a minute.’
But Hábogi would not stop or listen. ‘When you are married you will have plenty of time to choose one,’ was all he answered, and they rode on two or three miles further.
At length Hábogi drew rein before a small house, very ugly and mean-looking, and that seemed on the point of tumbling to pieces.
‘This is my house, and is to be yours,’ said Hábogi, as he jumped down and held out his arms to lift Helga from the horse. The girl’s heart sank a little, as she thought that the man who possessed such wonderful sheep, and cows, and horses, might have built himself a prettier place to live in; but she did not say so. And, taking her arm, he led her up the steps.
But when she got inside, she stood quite bewildered at the beauty of all around her. None of her friends owned such things, not even the miller, who was the richest man she knew. There were carpets everywhere,thick and soft, and of deep rich colours; and the cushions were of silk, and made you sleepy even to look at them; and curious little figures in china were scattered about. Helga felt as if it would take her all her life to see everything properly, and it only seemed a second since she had entered the house, when Hábogi came up to her.
‘I must begin the preparations for our wedding at once,’ he said; ‘but my foster-brother will take you home, as I promised. In three days he will bring you back here, with your parents and sisters, and any guests you may invite, in your company. By that time the feast will be ready.’
Helga had so much to think about, that the ride home appeared very short. Her father and mother were delighted to see her, as they did not feel sure that so ugly and cross-looking a man as Hábogi might not have played her some cruel trick. And after they had given her some supper they begged her to tell them all she had done. But Helga only told them that they should see for themselves on the third day, when they would come to her wedding.
It was very early in the morning when the party set out, and Helga’s two sisters grew green with envy as they passed the flocks of sheep, and cows, and horses, and heard that the best of each was given to Helga herself; but when they caught sight of the poor little house which was to be her home their hearts grew light again.
‘I should be ashamed of living in such a place,’ whispered each to the other; and the eldest sister spoke of the carved stone overherdoorway, and the second boasted of the number of roomsshehad. But the moment they went inside they were struck dumb with rage at the splendour of everything, and their faces grew white and cold with fury when they saw the dress which Hábogi had prepared for his bride—a dress that glittered like sunbeams dancing upon ice.
The sisters struggle to get out of the pit
‘Sheshallnot look so much finer than us,’ they criedpassionately to each other as soon as they were alone; and when night came they stole out of their rooms, and taking out the wedding-dress, they laid it in the ash-pit, and heaped ashes upon it. But Hábogi, who knew a little magic, and had guessed what they would do, changed the ashes into roses, and cast a spell over the sisters, so that they could not leave the spot for a whole day, and every one who passed by mocked at them.
The next morning when they all awoke the ugly little tumble-down house had disappeared, and in its place stood a splendid palace. The guests’ eyes sought in vain for the bridegroom, but could only see a handsome young man, with a coat of blue velvet and silver and a gold crown upon his head.
‘Who is that?’ they asked Helga.
‘That is my Hábogi,’ said she.
[Neuisländischen Volksmärchen.]
In a small hut, right in the middle of the forest, lived a man, his wife, three sons and a daughter. For some reason, all the animals seemed to have left that part of the country, and food grew very scarce; so, one morning, after a night of snow, when the tracks of beasts might be easily seen, the three boys started off to hunt.
They kept together for some time, till they reached a place where the path they had been following split into two, and one of the brothers called his dog and went to the left, while the others took the trail to the right. These had not gone far when their dogs scented a bear, and drove him out from the thicket. The bear ran across a clearing, and the elder brother managed to place an arrow right in his head.
They both took up the bear, and carried it towards home, meeting the third at the spot where they had parted from him. When they reached home they threw the bear down on the floor of the hut saying,
‘Father, here is a bear which we killed; now we can have some dinner.’
But the father, who was in a bad temper, only said:
‘When I was a young man we used to get two bears in one day.’
A bear, killed; his spirit returns to the bear chief
The sons were rather disappointed at hearing this, and though there was plenty of meat to last for two or three days, they started off early in the morning down the same trail that they had followed before. As they drew nearthe fork a bear suddenly ran out from behind a tree, and took the path on the right. The two elder boys and their dogs pursued him, and soon the second son, who was also a good shot, killed him instantly with an arrow. At thefork of the trail, on their way home, they met the youngest, who had taken the left-hand road, and had shot a bear for himself. But when they threw the two bears triumphantly on the floor of the hut their father hardly looked at them, and only said:
‘WhenIwas a young man I used to get three bears in one day.’
The next day they were luckier than before, and brought back three bears, on which their father told them thathehad always killed four. However, that did not prevent him from skinning the bears and cooking them in a way of his own, which he thought very good, and they all ate an excellent supper.
Now these bears were the servants of the great bear chief who lived in a high mountain a long way off. And every time a bear was killed his shadow returned to the house of the bear chief, with the marks of his wounds plainly to be seen by the rest.
The chief was furious at the number of bears the hunters had killed, and determined that he would find some way of destroying them. So he called another of his servants, and said to him:
‘Go to the thicket near the fork, where the boys killed your brothers, and directly they or the dogs see you return here as fast as ever you can. The mountain will open to let you in, and the hunters will follow you. Then I shall have them in my power, and be able to revenge myself.’
The servant bowed low, and started at once for the fork, where he hid himself in the bushes.
By-and-by the boys came in sight, but this time there were only two of them, as the youngest had stayed at home. The air was warm and damp, and the snow soft and slushy, and the elder brother’s bowstring hung loose, while the bow of the younger caught in a tree and snapped in half. At that moment the dogs began to bark loudly, and the bear rushed out of the thicket and set offin the direction of the mountain. Without thinking that they had nothing to defend themselves with, should the bear turn and attack them, the boys gave chase. The bear, who knew quite well that he could not be shot, sometimes slackened his pace and let the dogs get quite close; and in this way the elder son reached the mountain without observing it, while his brother, who had hurt his foot, was still far behind.
As he ran up, the mountain opened to admit the bear, and the boy, who was close on his heels, rushed in after him, and did not know where he was till he saw bears sitting on every side of him, holding a council. The animal he had been chasing sank panting in their midst, and the boy, very much frightened, stood still, letting his bow fall to the ground.
‘Why are you trying to kill all my servants?’ asked the chief. ‘Look round and see their shades, with arrows sticking in them. It was I who told the bear to-day how he was to lure you into my power. I shall take care that you shall not hurt my people any more, because you will become a bear yourself.’
At this moment the second brother came up—for the mountain had been left open on purpose to tempt him also—and cried out breathlessly: ‘Don’t you see that the bear is lying close to you? Why don’t you shoot him?’ And, without waiting for a reply, pressed forward to drive his arrow into the heart of the bear. But the elder one caught his raised arm, and whispered: ‘Be quiet! can’t you tell where you are?’ Then the boy looked up and saw the angry bears about him. On the one side were the servants of the chief, and on the other the servants of the chief’s sister, who was sorry for the two youths, and begged that their lives might be spared. The chief answered that he would not kill them, but only cast a spell over them, by which their heads and bodies should remain as they were, but their arms and legs should change into those of a bear, so that they would go on all fours for the rest oftheir lives. And, stooping over a spring of water, he dipped a handful of moss in it and rubbed it over the arms and legs of the boys. In an instant the transformation took place, and two creatures, neither beast nor human, stood before the chief.
The bear chief changes the boys' arms and legs
Now the bear chief of course knew that the boys’ father would seek for his sons when they did not return home, so he sent another of his servants to the hiding-place at the fork of the trail to see what would happen. He had not waited long, when the father came in sight, stooping as he went to look for his sons’ tracks in the snow. When he saw the marks of snow-shoes along the path on the right he was filled with joy, not knowingthat the servant had made some fresh tracks on purpose to mislead him; and he hastened forward so fast that he fell headlong into a pit, where the bear was sitting. Before he could pick himself up the bear had quietly broken his neck, and, hiding the body under the snow, sat down to see if anyone else would pass that way.
Meanwhile the mother at home was wondering what had become of her two sons, and as the hours went on, and their father never returned, she made up her mind to go and look for him. The youngest boy begged her to let him undertake the search, but she would not hear of it, and told him he must stay at home and take care of his sister. So, slipping on her snow-shoes, she started on her way.
As no fresh snow had fallen, the trail was quite easy to find, and she walked straight on, till it led her up to the pit where the bear was waiting for her. He grasped her as she fell and broke her neck, after which he laid her in the snow beside her husband, and went back to tell the bear chief.
Hour after hour dragged heavily by in the forest hut, and at last the brother and sister felt quite sure that in some way or other all the rest of the family had perished. Day after day the boy climbed to the top of a tall tree near the house, and sat there till he was almost frozen, looking on all sides through the forest openings, hoping that he might see someone coming along. Very soon all the food in the house was eaten, and he knew he would have to go out and hunt for more. Besides, he wished to seek for his parents.
The little girl did not like being left alone in the hut, and cried bitterly; but her brother told her that there was no use sitting down quietly to starve, and that whether he found any game or not he would certainly be back before the following night. Then he cut himself some arrows, each from a different tree, and winged with the feathers of four different birds. He then made himself a bow, very lightand strong, and got down his snow-shoes. All this took some time, and he could not start that day, but early next morning he called his little dog Redmouth, whom he kept in a box, and set out.
After he had followed the trail for a great distance he grew very tired, and sat upon the branch of a tree to rest. But Redmouth barked so furiously that the boy thought that perhaps his parents might have been killed under its branches, and, stepping back, shot one of his arrows at the root of the tree. Whereupon a noise like thunder shook it from top to bottom, fire broke out, and in a few minutes a little heap of ashes lay in the place where it had stood.
Not knowing quite what to make of it all, the boy continued on the trail, and went down the right-hand fork till he came to the clump of bushes where the bears used to hide.
Now, as was plain by his being able to change the shape of the two brothers, the bear chief knew a good deal of magic, and he was quite aware that the little boy was following the trail, and he sent a very small but clever bear servant to wait for him in the bushes and to try to tempt him into the mountain. But somehow his spells could not have worked properly that day, as the bear chief did not know that Redmouth had gone with his master, or he would have been more careful. For the moment the dog ran round the bushes barking loudly, the little bear servant rushed out in a fright, and set out for the mountains as fast as he could.
The dog followed the bear, and the boy followed the dog, until the mountain, the house of the great bear chief, came in sight. But along the road the snow was so wet and heavy that the boy could hardly get along, and then the thong of his snow-shoes broke, and he had to stop and mend it, so that the bear and the dog got so far ahead that he could scarcely hear the barking. When the strap was firm again the boy spoke to his snow-shoes and said:
‘Now you must go as fast as you can, or, if not, I shall lose the dog as well as the bear.’ And the snow-shoes sang in answer that they would run like the wind.
As he came along, the bear chief’s sister was looking out of the window, and took pity on this little brother, as she had on the two elder ones, and waited to see what the boy would do, when he found that the bear servant and the dog had already entered the mountain.
The little brother was certainly very much puzzled at not seeing anything of either of the animals, which had vanished suddenly out of his sight. He paused for an instant to think what he should do next, and while he did so he fancied he heard Redmouth’s voice on the opposite side of the mountain. With great difficulty he scrambled over steep rocks, and forced a path through tangled thickets; but when he reached the other side the sound appeared to start from the place from which he had come. Then he had to go all the way back again, and at the very top, where he stopped to rest, the barking was directly beneath him, and he knew in an instant where he was and what had happened.
‘Let my dog out at once, bear chief!’ cried he. ‘If you do not, I shall destroy your palace.’ But the bear chief only laughed, and said nothing. The boy was very angry at his silence, and aiming one of his arrows at the bottom of the mountain, shot straight through it.
As the arrow touched the ground a rumbling was heard, and with a roar a fire broke out which seemed to split the whole mountain into pieces. The bear chief and all his servants were burnt up in the flames, but his sister and all that belonged to her were spared because she had tried to save the two elder boys from punishment.
As soon as the fire had burnt itself out the little hunter entered what was left of the mountain, and the first thing he saw was his two brothers—half bear, half boy.
‘Oh, help us! help us!’ cried they, standing on theirhind legs as they spoke, and stretching out their fore-paws to him.
‘But how am I to help you?’ asked the little brother, almost weeping. ‘I can kill people, and destroy trees and mountains, but I have no power over men.’ And the two elder brothers came up and put their paws on his shoulders, and they all three wept together.
The heart of the bear chief’s sister was moved when she saw their misery, and she came gently up behind, and whispered:
‘Little boy, gather some moss from the spring over there, and let your brothers smell it.’
With a bound all three were at the spring, and as the youngest plucked a handful of wet moss, the two others sniffed at it with all their might. Then the bear-skin fell away from them, and they stood upright once more.
‘How can we thank you? how can we thank you?’ they stammered, hardly able to speak; and fell at her feet in gratitude. But the bear’s sister only smiled, and bade them go home and look after the little girl, who had no one else to protect her.
And this the boys did, and took such good care of their sister that, as she was very small, she soon forgot that she had ever had a father and mother.
[From theBureau of Ethnology, U.S.]
Far away, in a very hot country, there once lived a man and woman who had two children, a son named Koané and a daughter called Thakané.
Early in the morning and late in the evenings the parents worked hard in the fields, resting, when the sun was high, under the shade of some tree. While they were absent the little girl kept house alone, for her brother always got up before the dawn, when the air was fresh and cool, and drove out the cattle to the sweetest patches of grass he could find.
One day, when Koané had slept later than usual, his father and mother went to their work before him, and there was only Thakané to be seen busy making the bread for supper.
‘Thakané,’ he said, ‘I am thirsty. Give me a drink from the tree Koumongoé, which has the best milk in the world.’
‘Oh, Koané,’ cried his sister, ‘you know that we are forbidden to touch that tree. What would father say when he came home? For he would be sure to know.’
‘Nonsense,’ replied Koané, ‘there is so much milk in Koumongoé that he will never miss a little. If you won’t give it to me, I sha’n’t take the cattle out. They will just have to stay all day in the hut, and you know that they will starve.’ And he turned from her in a rage, and sat down in the corner.
After a while Thakané said to him: ‘It is getting hot, had you not better drive out the cattle now?’
But Koané only answered sulkily: ‘I told you I am not going to drive them out at all. If I have to do without milk, they shall do without grass.’
Thakané did not know what to do. She was afraid to disobey her parents, who would most likely beat her, yet the beasts would be sure to suffer if they were kept in, and she would perhaps be beaten for that too. So at last she took an axe and a tiny earthen bowl, she cut a very small hole in the side of Koumongoé, and out gushed enough milk to fill the bowl.
‘Here is the milk you wanted,’ said she, going up to Koané, who was still sulking in his corner.
‘What is the use of that?’ grumbled Koané; ‘why, there is not enough to drown a fly. Go and get me three times as much!’
Trembling with fright, Thakané returned to the tree, and struck it a sharp blow with the axe. In an instant there poured forth such a stream of milk that it ran like a river into the hut.
‘Koané! Koané!’ cried she, ‘come and help me to plug up the hole. There will be no milk left for our father and mother.’ But Koané could not stop it any more than Thakané, and soon the milk was flowing through the hut downhill towards their parents in the fields below.
The man saw the white stream a long way off, and guessed what had happened.
‘Wife, wife,’ he called loudly to the woman, who was working at a little distance: ‘Do you see Koumongoé running fast down the hill? That is some mischief of the children’s, I am sure. I must go home and find out what is the matter.’ And they both threw down their hoes and hurried to the side of Koumongoé.
Kneeling on the grass, the man and his wife made a cup of their hands and drank the milk from it. And no sooner had they done this, than Koumongoé flowed back again up the hill, and entered the hut.
‘Thakané,’ said the parents, severely, when they reachedhome panting from the heat of the sun, ‘what have you been doing? Why did Koumongoé come to us in the fields instead of staying in the garden?’
‘It was Koané’s fault,’ answered Thakané. ‘He would not take the cattle to feed until he drank some of the milk from Koumongoé. So, as I did not know what else to do, I gave it to him.’
The father listened to Thakané’s words, but made no answer. Instead, he went outside and brought in two sheepskins, which he stained red and sent for a blacksmith to forge some iron rings. The rings were then passed over Thakané’s arms and legs and neck, and the skins fastened on her before and behind. When all was ready, the man sent for his servants and said:
‘I am going to get rid of Thakané.’
‘Get rid of your only daughter?’ they answered, in surprise. ‘But why?’
‘Because she has eaten what she ought not to have eaten. She has touched the sacred tree which belongs to her mother and me alone.’ And, turning his back, he called to Thakané to follow him, and they went down the road which led to the dwelling of an ogre.
They were passing along some fields where the corn was ripening, when a rabbit suddenly sprang out at their feet, and standing on its hind legs, it sang: