 25. On the shores of the West, where the Great Hills stand with their feet in the sea, dwelt a-gothered and his wife, together with their three sons and one daughter. All day long the young men fished and hunted, while their sister took out the kids to pasture on the mountain, or stayed at home helping their mother and mending the nets. For several years they all lived happily together, when one day, as the girl was out on the hill with the kids, the sun grew dark and an air cold was, as a thick white mist came creeping. Creeping up from the sea, she rose with a shiver and tried to call to her kids, but the voice died away in her throat, and strong arms seemed to hold her. Loud were the walls in the hut by the sea, when the hours passed on and the maiden came not. Many times the father and brothers jumped up, thinking they heard her steps, but in the thick darkness they could scarcely see their own hands. Nor could they tell where the river lay, nor where the mountain. One by one the kids came home, and at every bleat someone hurried to open the door, but no sound broke the stillness. Through the night no one slept, and when morning broke and the mist rolled back, they sought the maiden by sea and by land, but never a trace of her could be found anywhere. Thus a year and a day slipped by, and at the end of it Gloria of the flocks and his wife seemed suddenly to have grown old. Their sons, too, were sadder than before, for they loved their sister well, and had never ceased to mourn for her. At length Arden, the eldest, spoke and said, It is now a year and a day since our sister was taken from us, and we have waited in grief and patience for her to return. Surely some evil has befallen her, or she would have sent us a token to put our hearts at rest. And I have vowed to myself that my eye shall not know sleep till living or dead. I have found her. If you have vowed, then must you keep your vow? answered Gloria. But better had it been if you had first asked your father's leave before you made it. Yet, since it is so, your mother will bake you a cake for you to carry with you on your journey. Who can tell how long it may be? So the mother arose and baked not one cake, but two, a big one and a little one. Choose my son, said she. Will you have the little cake with your mother's blessing, or the big one without it, in that you have set aside your father and taken on yourself to make a vow? I will have the large cake, answered the youth. For what good will my mother's blessing do for me if I was dying of hunger, and taking the big cake he went his way? Straight on he strode, letting neither hill nor river hinder him. Swiftly he walked swiftly as the wind that blew down the mountain. The eagles and the gulls looked on from their nests as he passed, leaving the deer behind him. But at length he stopped, for hunger had seized on him, and he could walk no more. Trembling with fatigue, he sat himself on a rock, and broke a piece off his cake. Spare me a morsel, ardent son of Gorilla, asked a raven, fluttering down towards him. Seek food elsewhere, O bearer of ill news, answered ardent son of Gorilla. It is but little I have for myself, and he stretched himself out for a few moments, then rose to his fleet again. On and on went he tell the little birds, flew to their nests, and the brightness died out of the sky, and the darkness fell over the earth, on and on and on, till the last he saw a beam of light streaming from a house and hastened toward it. The door was opened, and he entered, but paused as he beheld an old man lying on the bench by the fire, while seated opposite him was a maiden, combing out the locks of her golden hair with a comb of silver. Welcome, fair youth, said the old man, turning his head, sit down and warm yourself, and tell me how fair is the outer world. It is long since I have seen it. All my news is that I am seeking service, answered ardent son of Gorilla. I have come from far since sunrise, and glad was I to see the rays of your lamp stream into the darkness. I need someone to herd my three duncows, which are hornless, said the old man. If for the space of a year you can bring them back to me each evening before the sun sets, I will make you payment that will satisfy your soul. But here the girl looked up and answered quickly, it will come of it if he listens to your offer. Council unsought is worth nothing, replied, rudely, ardent son of Gorilla. It would be little indeed that I am fit for it, if I cannot drive three cows out to pasture and keep them safe from the wolves that may come down from the mountains. Therefore, good father, I will take service with you at daybreak, and ask no payment till the new year dawns. Next morning the bell of the deer was not heard amongst the fern before the maiden, with the hair of gold, had milked the cows and led them in the front of the cottage, where the old man and ardent son of Gorilla awaited them. Let them wander where they will, he said to his servant, and never seek to turn them from their way. For well they know the fields of good pastor, but take heed to follow always behind them, and suffer nothing that you see, and not that you hear, to draw you into leaving them. Now go, and may wisdom go with you. As he sees speaking, he touched one of the cows on her forehead, and he stepped along the path, with the two others, one on each side, as he had been bitten behind them came ardent son of Gorilla, rejoicing in his heart so easy had fallen to his lot. At the year's end, thought he enough money would lie in his pocket to carry him into far countries where his sister might be, and in the meanwhile someone might come past who could give him tidings of her. Thus he spoke to himself, when his eyes fell on a golden cock, and a silver hen running swiftly along the grass in front of him. In a moment the words that the old man had uttered vanished from his mind, and he gave chase. They were so near that he could almost seize their tails, yet each time he felt sure he could catch them his fingers closed on the empty air. At length he could run no more, and stop to breathe while the cock and the hen went on as before. Then he remembered the cows, and somewhat frightened, turned back to seek him. Luckily they had not strayed far, and were quietly feeding on the thick green grass. Arden's son of Gorilla was sitting under a tree, when he beheld a staff of gold and a staff of silver, doubling themselves in strange ways on the meadow in front of him, and starting up he hastened towards him. He followed them till he was tired, but he could not catch them, though they seemed ever within his reach, when at last he gave up the quest his knees trembled beneath him for very weariness, and glad was he to see a tree growing close by laid with fruits of different sorts, of which he ate greedily. The sun was by now low in the heavens, and the cows left off feeding and turned their faces home again, followed by Arden, son of Gorilla, at the door of their stable. The maiden stood awaiting them, not to their herd. She sat down and began to milk, but it was not milk that flowed into her pale, instead it was filled with a thin stream of water, and as she rose up from the last cow, the old man appeared outside. Faithless one, you have betrayed your trust, he said to Arden, son of Gorilla. Not even for one day could you keep true, while you shall have your reward at once, that others may take warning from you, and waving his wand he touched with it, the chest of the youth, who became a pillar of stone. Now Gorilla of the flocks and his wife were full of grief, that they had lost a son as well as a daughter, for no tidings had come to them of Arden their eldest born. At length, when two years and two days had passed since the maiden had led her kids to feed on the mountain, and had been seen no more. Ruas, second son of Gorilla, rose up one morning and said, Time is long without my sister and Arden my brother, so I have vowed to seek them wherever they may be. But his father answered, Better it had been if you had first asked my consent and that of your mother, but as you have vowed, so must you do. Then he bade his wife, made a cake, but instead she made two and offered Ruas his choice, as she had done to Arden. Like Arden, Ruas chose a large, unblessed cake and set forth on his way, doing always, though he knew it not, that which Arden had done, so needless is it to tell what befell him, till he too stood a pillar of stone on the hill behind the cottage, so that all men might see the fate that awaited those who broke their faith. Another year and a day passed by when Coven the brown-haired, youngest son of Gorilla of the flocks, one morning spake to his parents, saying, It is more than three years since my sister left us. My brothers have also gone, no one known wither, and of us four none remains but I. Know therefore I long to seek them, and I pray you and my mother to place no hindrance in my way. And his father answered, Go then and take our blessing with you. So the wife of Gorilla of the flocks baked two cakes, one large and one small, and Coven took the small one, and started on his quest. In the wood he felt hungry, for he had walked far, and he sat down to eat. Suddenly a voice behind him cried, A bit for me, a bit for me, and looking round, he beheld the black raven of the wilderness. Yes, you shall have a bit, said Coven, the brown-haired, and breaking off a piece he stretched it upwards to the raven, who ate it greedily. Then Coven arose and went forward, till he saw the light from the cottage streaming before him, and glad was he, for night was at hand. Maybe I shall find some work there, he thought. And at least I shall gain money to help me in my search, for who knows how far my sister and my brothers may have wandered. The door stood open, and he entered, and the old man gave him welcome, and the golden-haired maiden likewise. As happened before he was offered by the old man to herd his cows, and as she had done to his brothers the maiden consoled him to leave such work alone. But instead of answering rudely, like both Arden and Ruas, he thanked her with courtesy, though he had no mind to heed her. And he listened to the warnings and words of his new master. Next day he set forth at dawn with the done cows in front of him, and followed patiently wherever they might lead him. On the way he saw the gold cock and the silver hen, which ran even closer to him than they had done to his brothers. Sorely tempted he longed to give them chase, but remembering, in time, that he had been bidden to look neither to the right nor to the left, with the mighty effort he turned his eyes away. Then the gold and the silver staffs seemed to spring from the earth before him. But this time also he overcame, and though the fruit from the magic tree almost touched his mouth, he brushed it aside and went steady on. That day the cows wandered farther than ever they had bound before, and never stopped till they had reached a moor where the heather was burning. The fire was fierce, but the cows took no heed and walked steadily through it. Coven the brown-haired following them, next they plunged into a foaming river, and Coven plunged in after them. Though the water came high above his waist, on the other side of the river lay a wide plain, and there the cows lay down while Coven looked about him. Near him was a house built of yellow stone, and from it came sweet songs, and Coven listened, and his heart grew light within him. While he was thus waiting there ran up to him a youth, scarcely able to speak so swiftly. Had he sped, and he cried aloud, Hasten, Hasten, Coven the brown-haired, for your cows are in the corn, and you must drive them out. Nay, said Coven smiling, it had been easier for you to have driven them out than to come here to tell me. And he went on listening to the music. Very soon the same youth returned and cried with panting breath, out upon you, Coven, son of Gorla, that you stand there agape, for our dogs are chasing your cows, and you must drive them off. Nay then, answered Coven as before, it had been easier for you to call off your dogs than to come here to tell me. And he stayed where he was till the music seized. Then he turned to look for the cows and found them all lying in no place, where he had left them. But when they saw Coven, they rose up, and walked homewards, taking a different path to what they had trod in the morning. This time they passed over a plain, so bare that a pin could not have lain there unnoticed. Yet Coven beheld with a surprise a foal, and its mother feeding there, both as if they had pastured on the richest grass. Further on, they crossed another plain, where the grass was thick and green, but on it were feeding a foal and its mother. So leaned that you could have counted their ribs, and further again the path led them by the shores of a lake whereon were floating two boats, one full of gay and happy youths, journeying to the land of the sun, and another with grim shapes clothed and black, traveling to the land of night. What can these things mean? said Coven to himself. As he followed his cows, darkness now fell, the wind howled, and torrents of rain poured upon them. Coven knew not how far they might have yet to go. Or indeed, if they were on the right road, he could not even see his cows, and his heart sank lest, after all, he should have failed to bring them safely back. What was he to do? He waited thus, for he could go neither forwards nor backwards, till he felt a great friendly paw laid on his mother. My cave is just here, said the dog of Malmore, of whom Coven, son of Gorla, had heard much. Spend the night here, and you shall be fed on the flesh of lamb, and shall lay aside three-thirds of thy weariness. And Coven entered, and supped, and slept, and in the morning rose up a new man. Farewell, Coven, said the dog of Malmore, may success go with you, for you took what I had to give, and did not mock me. So, when the danger is your companion, wish for me, and I will not fail you. At these words the dog of Malmore disappeared into the forest, and Coven went to seek his cows, which were standing in the hollow where the darkness had come upon them. At the sight of Coven, the brown-haired, they walked onwards. Coven following ever behind them, and looking neither to the right nor to the left, all that day they walked, and when the night fell, they were in a barren plain with only rocks for shelter. We must rest here as best as we can. Spoke Coven to the cows, and they bowed their heads, and lay down in the palace, where they stood. Then came the black raven of Cory Nancreag, whose eyes never closed, and whose wings never tired, and he fluttered before the face of Coven, and told him that he knew of a cranny in the rock where there was flood in plenty, and soft moss for a bed. Go with me, thither, he said to Coven, and you shall lay aside three thirds of your weariness, and depart in the morning refreshed, and Coven listened thankfully to his words, and at dawn he rose up to seek his cows. Farewell, cried the black raven, you trusted me, and took all I had to offer in return for the food you once gave me. So if in time to come you need a friend, wish for me, and I will not fail you. As before the cows were standing in the spot where he had left them, ready to set out. All that day they walked on and on and on. Coven and son of Gorla, walking behind them, tell night fell while they were on the banks of a river. We can go no further, spake Coven to the cows, and they began to eat the grass by the side of the stream, while Coven listened to them and longed for some supper also. For they had traveled far, and his limbs were weak under him. Then there was a swish of water at his feet, and out peeped ahead of a famous otter, Doran Don, of the stream. Trust to me, and I will find you warmth and shelter, said Doran Don, and for food fish in plenty, and Coven went with him thankfully and ate and rested, and laid aside three thirds of his wearingness. At sunrise he left his bed of dried seaweed, which had floated up with the tide, and with a grateful heart bade farewell to Doran Don, because he trusted me and took what I had to offer. You have made me your friend, Coven, said Doran Don, and if you should be in danger, and need help from one who can swim a river or dive beneath a wave, call to me and I will come to you. Then he plunged into the stream and was seen no more. The cows were standing ready in the place where Coven had left them, and they journeyed on all that day till when night fell they reached the cottage. Joyful indeed was the old man as the cows went into their stables, and he beheld the rich milk that flowed into the pail of the golden-haired maiden with a silver comb. You have done well indeed, he said to Coven, son of Gorla, and now what would you have as a reward? I want nothing for myself, answered Coven, the brown-haired, but I ask you to give me back my brothers and my sister, who have been lost to us for three years past. You are wise and know the lore of fairies and of witches. Tell me where I can find them, and what I must do to bring them to life again. The old man looked grave at the words of Coven. Yes, truly I know where they are, answered he, and I say not that they may not be brought to life again, but the perils are great, too great for you to overcome. Tell me what they are, said Coven again, and I shall know better if I may overcome them. Listen then and judge in the mountain yonder. There dwells a row, white of foot, with horns that branch like the antlers of a deer, on the lake that leads to the land of the sun floats a duck whose body is green and whose neck is of gold. In the pool of quarry buoy swims a salmon with a skin that shines like silver, and whose gills are red. Bring them all to me, and then you will shall know where dwell your brothers and your sister. Tomorrow at Cock Crow I will be gone, answered Coven. The way to the mountain lay straight before him, the way to the mountain lay straight before him, and when he had climbed high he caught sight of the row with the white feet and the spotted sides on the peak in front. Full of hope he set out in pursuit of her, but by the time he had reached that peak he had left it and was to be seen on another, and so it always happened, and Coven's courage had well nigh failed him. When the thought of the dog of Malmar darted into his mind, oh that he was here, he cried, and looking up he saw him. Why did you summon me as the dog of Malmar, and when Coven had told him of his trouble, and how the row always led him further and further the dog only answered, fear nothing, I will soon catch her for you. And in a short while he laid the row unhurt at Coven's feet. What will you wish me to do with her? said the dog, and Coven answered. The old man bade me bring her, and the duck with the golden neck and the salmon with her silver sides to his cottage, if I shall catch them. I know not, but carry you the row to the back of the cottage and tether her so that she cannot escape. It shall be done, said the dog of Malmar. Then Coven sped to the lake, which led to the land of the sun, where the duck with the queen body and the golden neck was swimming among the water lollies. Surely I can catch him, but good swimmer as I am, to himself, but if he could swim well, the duck could swim better. And at length his strength failed him, and he was forced to seek the land. Oh, that the black raven were here to help me, he thought to himself, and in a moment the black raven was pursed on his shoulder. How can I help you, asked the raven, and Coven answered. Catch me the green duck that floats on the water, and the raven flew with his strong wings, and picked him up in his strong beak. And in another moment the bird was laid at the feet of Coven. This time it would be easy for the young man to carry his prize, and after giving thanks to the raven for his aid, he went on to the river. In the deep dark pool of which the old man had spoken, the silver-sided salmon was lying under a rock. Surely I, good fisher as I am, can catch him, said Coven, son of Gorla, and cutting a slender pole from a bush. He fastened a line to the end of it, but cast with what skill he might, it availed nothing. For the salmon would not even look at the bait. I am beat at last, unless the door on Don can deliver me, he cried, and as he spoke there was a swish of the water, and the face of the door on Don looked up at him. O catch me, I pray you, that salmon under the rock, said Coven, son of Gorla. And the door on Don dived, and laying hold of the salmon by his tail bore it back to the place where Coven was standing. The row and the duck, and the salmon are here, said Coven, to the old man when he reached the cottage, and the old man smiled on him, and bade him eat, and drink. And after he hungered no more he would speak with him. And this was what the old man said, You began well, my son, so things have gone well with you. You set store by your mother's blessing. Therefore you have been blessed. You gave food to the raven when it hungered. You were true to the promise you had made to me, and did not suffer yourself to be turned aside by vain shows. You were skilled to perceive that the boy who tempted you to leave the temple was a teller of false tales, and took with a grateful heart what the poor had to offer you. Last of all, difficulties gave you courage, instead of lending you despair. And now as to your reward, you shall in truth take your sister home with you, and your brothers I will restore to life, but idle and faithful as they are, their lot is to wander forever. And so farewell, and may wisdom be with you. First tell me your name, asked Coven Softly. I am the spirit of age, said the old man. Recording by Gwendolyn Grace Once upon a time there lived a man who had two sons. When they grew up the elder went to seek his fortune in a far country, and for many years no one heard anything about him. Meanwhile the younger son stayed at home with his father, who died at last in a good old age, leaving great riches behind him. For some time the son who stayed at home spent his father's wealth freely, believing that he alone remained to enjoy it. But one day, as he was coming downstairs, he was surprised to see a stranger enter the hall, looking about as if the house belonged to him. Have you forgotten me? asked the man. I can't forget a person I've never known, was the rude answer. I'm your brother, replied the stranger, and I have returned home without the money I hope to have made. And what is worse, they tell me in the village that my father is dead. I would have counted my lost gold as nothing if I could have seen him once more. He died six months ago, said the rich brother, and he left you as your portion the old wooden chest that stands in the loft. You'd better go there and look for it. I have no more time to waste. And he went his way. So the wanderer turned his steps to the loft, which was at the top of the storehouse, and there he found a wooden chest so old that it looked as if it were dropping to pieces. What uses this old thing to me? he said to himself. Oh, well, it will serve to light a fire at which I can warm myself, so things might be worse after all. Placing the chest on his back, the man whose name was Jose set out for his inn, and burrowing a hatchet began to chop up the box. In doing so he discovered a secret drawer and in it lay a paper. He opened the paper not knowing what it might contain, and was astonished to find that it was an acknowledgement of a large debt that was owing to his father. Putting the precious writing in his pocket, he hastily inquired of the landlord, where he would find the man whose name was written inside, and he ran out at once in search of him. The debtor proved to be an old miser who lived at the other end of the village. He had hoped for many months that the paper he had written had been lost or destroyed, and indeed when he saw it was very unwilling to pay what he owed. However, the stranger threatened to drag him before the king, and when the miser saw that there was no help for it he counted out the coins one by one. The stranger picked them up and put them in his pocket, and went back to his inn, feeling that he was now a rich man. A few weeks after this he was walking through the streets of the nearest town, when he met a poor woman crying bitterly. He stopped and asked her what was the matter, and she answered between her sobs that her husband was dying, and to make matters worse, a creditor whom he could not pay was anxious to have him taken to prison. Comfort yourself, said the stranger kindly, they shall neither send your husband to prison nor sell your goods. I will not only pay his debts, but if he dies the cost of his burial also, and now go home and nurse him as well as you can. And so she did, but in spite of her care the husband died and was buried by the stranger, but everything cost more than he expected, and when all was paid for he found he had only three gold pieces left. What am I to do now? he said to himself. I think I'd better go to court and enter into the service of the king. At first he was only a servant, who carried the king the water for his bath, and saw that his bed was made in a particular fashion. But he did his duty so well that his master soon took notice of him, and in a short time he rose to be a gentleman of the bed-chamber. Now when this happened the younger brother had spent all the money he had inherited and did not know how to make any for himself. He then bethought him of the king's favorite, and went whining to the palace to beg that his brother whom he had so ill used would give him his protection and find him a place. The elder who was always ready to help everyone spoke to the king on his behalf, and the next day the young man took up his work at court. Unfortunately the newcomer was by nature spiteful and envious, and could not bear anyone to have better luck than himself. By dint of spying through key-holes and listening at doors he learned that the king, old and ugly though he was, had fallen in love with the Princess Bella-Flor, who would have nothing to say to him, and had hidden herself in some mountain castle no one knew where. That will do nicely, thought the scoundrel rubbing his hands. It will be quite easy to get the king to send my brother in search of her, and if he returns without finding her his head will be the forfeit. Either way he will be out of my path. So we went at once to the Lord High Chamberlain and craved an audience of the king, to whom he declared he wished to tell some news of the highest importance. The king admitted him into the presence chamber without delay, and made him state what he had to say and be quick about it. Oh, Sire, the Princess Bella-Flor! answered the man, and then stopped as if afraid. What of the Princess Bella-Flor? asked the king impatiently. I have heard. It is whispered at court. But your Majesty desires to know where she lies in hiding. I would give half my kingdom to the man who would bring her to me, cried the king eagerly. Speak on, Nave! Has a bird of the air revealed to you the secret? It is not I, but my brother, who knows, replied the traitor. If your Majesty would ask him. But before the words were out of his mouth the king had struck a blow with his scepter on the golden plate that hung on the wall. Ordered Jose to appear before me instantly, he shouted to the servant who ran to obey his orders. So great was the noise his Majesty had made. And when Jose entered the hall, wondering what in the world could be the matter, the king was nearly dumb from rage and excitement. Bring me the Princess Bella-Flor this moment! Stammered he, for if you return without her I will have you drowned. And without another word he left the hall leaving Jose staring with surprise and horror. How can I find the Princess Bella-Flor when I have never even seen her? thought he. But it is no use staying here for I shall only be put to death. And he walked slowly to the stables to choose himself a horse. There were rows upon rows of fine beasts with their names written in gold above their stalls, and Jose was looking uncertainly from one to another, wondering which he should choose, when an old white horse turned its head and signed him to approach. Take me, it said in a gentle whisper, and all will go well. Jose still felt so bewildered with the mission that the king had given him that he forgot to be astonished at hearing a horse talk. Mechanically, he laid his hand on the bridle and led the white horse out of the stable. He was about to mount on his back when the animals spoke again. Pick up those three loaves of bread which you see there and put them in your pocket. Jose did as he was told, and being in a great hurry to get away, asked no questions but swung himself into the saddle. They rode far without meeting any adventures, but at length they came to an anthill and the horse stopped. Crumble those three loaves for the ants, he said, but Jose hesitated. Why we may want them ourselves, answered he. Never mind that, give them to the ants all the same. Do not lose a chance of helping others. And when the loaves lay in crumbs on the road, the horse galloped on. By and by they entered a rocky pass between two mountains, and here they saw an eagle which had been caught in a hunter's net. Get down and cut the meshes of the net and set the poor bird free, said the horse. But it will take so long, objected Jose, and we may miss the princess. Never mind that, do not lose a chance of helping others, answered the horse. And when the meshes were cut and the eagle was free, the horse galloped on. They had ridden many miles and at last they came to a river where they beheld a little fish lying gasping on the sand, and the horse said, Do you see that little fish? It will die if you do not put it back in the water. But really, we shall never find the princess bellow floor if we waste our time like this, cried Jose. We never waste time when we are helping others, answered the horse. And soon the little fish was swimming happily away. A little while after they reached a castle which was built in the middle of a very thick wood, and right in front was the princess bellow floor feeding her hens. Now listen, said the horse. I am going to give all sorts of little hops and skips which will amuse the princess bellow floor. Then she will tell you that she would like to ride a little way, and you must help her to mount. When she is seated I shall begin to nay and kick, and you must say that I have never carried a woman before, and that you had better get up behind so as to be able to manage me. Once on my back we will go like the wind to the king's palace. Jose did exactly as the horse told him, and everything fell out as the animal prophesied, so that it was not until they were galloping breathlessly toward the palace that the princess knew that she was taken captive. She said nothing, however, but quietly opened her apron which contained the bran for the chickens, and in a moment it lay scattered on the ground. Oh! I have let fall my bran! cried she. Please get down and pick it up for me. But Jose only answered. We shall find plenty of bran where we are going, and the horse galloped on. They were now passing through a forest, and the princess took out her handkerchief and threw it upwards, so that it stuck in one of the topmost branches of a tree. Dear me! How stupid! I have let my handkerchief blow away, said she. Will you climb up and get it for me? But Jose answered. We shall find plenty of handkerchiefs where we are going, and the horse galloped on. After the wood they reached a river, and the princess slipped a ring off her finger and let it roll into the water. How careless of me! gasped she, beginning to sob. I have lost my favorite ring. Do stop for a moment and look if you can see it. But Jose answered. You will find plenty of rings where you are going, and the horse galloped on. At last they entered the palace gates, and the king's heart bounded with joy at beholding his beloved princess Bella-Flor. But the princess brushed him aside as if he had been a fly, and locked herself in the nearest room, which she would not open for all his entreaties. Bring me the three things I lost on the way, and perhaps I may think about it, was all she would say. And in despair the king was driven to take counsel of Jose. There is no remedy that I can see, said his majesty, but that you, who know where they are, should go and bring them back, and if you return without them I will have you drowned. Poor Jose was much troubled at these words. He thought that he had done all that was required of him, and that his life was safe. However he bowed low, and went out to consult his friend the horse. Do not vex yourself, said the horse, when he heard the story. Jump up, and we will go and look for the things. And Jose mounted it once. They rode on till they came to the anthill, and then the horse asked, Would you like to have the bran? What is the use of liking? answered Jose. Well, call the ants and tell them to fetch it for you, and if some of it has been scattered by the wind, to bring in its stead the grains that were in the cakes you gave them. Jose listened in surprise. He did not much believe in the horse's plan, but he could not think of anything better so he called to the ants and bade them collect the bran as fast as they could. Then he sat under a tree and waited while his horse cropped the green turf. Look there, said the animal, suddenly raising its head, and Jose looked behind him and saw a little mountain of bran, which he put into a bag that was hung over his saddle. Good deeds bear fruit sooner or later, observed the horse, but mount again as we have far to go. When they arrived at the tree they saw the handkerchief fluttering like a flag from the topmost branch, and Jose's spirit sank again. How am I to get that handkerchief? cried he. Why, I should need Jacob's ladder. But the horse answered, do not be frightened. Call to the eagle you set free from the net. He will bring it to you. So Jose called to the eagle, and the eagle flew to the top of the tree and brought back the handkerchief in its beak. Jose thanked him and vaulting on his horse they rode on to the river. A great deal of rain had fallen in the night and the river, instead of being clear as it was before, was dark and troubled. How am I to fetch the ring from the bottom of this river when I do not know exactly where it was dropped? And cannot even see it? asked Jose. But the horse answered, do not be frightened. Call the little fish whose life you saved and she will bring it to you. So he called to the fish, and the fish dived to the bottom and slipped behind big stones and moved little ones with its tail till it found the ring and brought it to Jose in its mouth. Well pleased with all he had done, Jose returned to the palace, but when the king took the precious objects to bella floor she declared that she would never open the door until the bandit who had carried her off had been fried in oil. I am very sorry, the king said to Jose. I really would rather not, but, you see, I have no choice. While the oil was being heated in the great cauldron, Jose went to the stables to inquire of his friend the horse if there was no way for him to escape. Do not be frightened, said the horse. Get on my back and I will gallop till my whole body is wet with perspiration, then rub it all over your skin, and no matter how hot the oil may be you will never feel it. Jose did not ask any more questions, but did as the horse bade him, and men wondered at his cheerful face as they lowered him into the cauldron of boiling oil. He was left there till bella floor cried that he must be cooked enough, then out came a youth so young and handsome that everyone fell in love with him and bella floor most of all. As for the old king, he saw that he had lost the game, and in despair he flung himself into the cauldron and was fried instead of Jose. Then Jose was proclaimed king, on condition that he married bella floor, which he promised to do the next day. But first he went to the stables and sought out the horse and said to him, It is to you that I owe my life and my crown. Why have you done all this for me? And the horse answered, I am the soul of that unhappy man for whom you spent all your fortune, and when I saw you in danger of death I begged that I might help you as you had helped me, for, as I told you, good deeds bear their own fruit. End of The Princess Bella Floor Recording by Gwendolyn Grace Shunning the glare of the sun and the noise of the towns, flowed quietly past trees and under bushes listening to the songs of the birds overhead. One day, when the fisherman had gone out as usual to cast his nets, he saw, born towards him on the current, a cradle of crystal. Slipping his net quickly beneath it, he drew it out and lifted the silk coverlet. Inside, lying on a soft bed of cotton, were two babies. A boy and a girl who opened their eyes and smiled at him. The man was filled with pity at the sight, and throwing down his lines, he took the cradle and the babies home to his wife. The good woman flung up her hands and despair when she beheld the contents of the cradle. Are not eight children enough, she cried, without bringing us two more? How do you think we can feed them? You would not have had me leave them to die of hunger, answered he, or be swallowed up by the waves of the sea? What is enough for eight is also enough for ten. The wife said no more, and in truth her heart yearned over the little creatures. Somehow or other food was never lacking in the hut, and the children grew up and were so good and gentle that in time their foster parents loved them as well or better than their own, who were quarrelsome and envious. It did not take the orphans long to notice that the boys did not like them, and were always playing tricks on them, so they used to go away by themselves and spend whole hours by the banks of the river. Here they would take out the bits of bread they had saved from their breakfasts, and crumble them for the birds. In return the birds taught them many things—how to get up early in the morning, how to sing, and how to talk their language, which very few people know. But though the little orphans did their best to avoid quarrelling with their foster brothers, it was very difficult always to keep the peace. Matters got worse and worse, till one morning the eldest boy said to the twins, It is all very well for you to pretend that you have such good manners and are so much better than we, but we have at least a father and mother while you have only got the river like the toads and the frogs. The poor children did not answer the insult, but it made them very unhappy, and they told each other in whispers that they could not stay there any longer, but must go into the world and seek their fortunes. So next day they arose as early as the birds, and stole downstairs without anybody hearing them. One window was opened and they crept softly out and ran to the side of the river. Then, feeling as if they had found a friend, they walked along its banks, hoping that by and by they should meet someone to take care of them. The whole of that day they went steadily on without seeing a living creature, till in the evening, weary and foot sore, they saw before them a small hut. This raised their spirits for a moment, but the door was shut and the hut seemed empty, and so great was their disappointment that they almost cried. However, the boy fought down his tears and said cheerfully, Well, at any rate, here is a bench where we can sit down, and when we are rested we will think what is best to do next. Then they sat down, and for some time they were too tired even to notice anything, but by and by they saw that under the tiles of the roof a number of swallows were sitting, chattering merrily to each other. Of course the swallows had no idea that the children understood their language, or they would not have talked so freely, but as it was they said whatever came into their heads. Good evening, my fine city madam, remarked a swallow whose manners were rather rough and contrived to another who looked particularly distinguished. Happy indeed are the eyes that behold you, only think of your having returned to your long forgotten country-friends after you have lived for years in a palace. I have inherited this nest from my parents, replied the other, and as they left it to me I certainly shall make it my home. But, she added politely, I hope that you and all your family are well. Very well indeed, I am glad to say, but my poor daughter had a short time ago such bad inflammation in her eyes that she would have gone blind had I not been able to find the magic herb which cured her at once. And how is the nightingale singing? Does the lark soar as high as ever? And does the linnet dress herself as smartly? But here the country swallow drew herself up. I never talk gossip, she said severely. Our people who were once so innocent and well behaved have been corrupted by the bad examples of men. It is a thousand pities. What! Innocence and good behaviour are not to be met with among birds, nor in the country? My dear friend, what are you saying? The truth and nothing more! Imagine when we returned here we met some linnets who, just as the spring and the flowers and the long days had come, were setting out for the north in the cold. Out of pure compassion we tried to persuade them to give up this folly, but they only replied with the utmost insolence. How shocking, exclaimed the city swallow! Yes, it was, and worse than that, the crested lark that was formerly so timid and shy is now no better than a thief, and steals maize and corn wherever she can find them. I am astonished at what you say. You will be more astonished when I tell you that on my arrival here for the summer I found my nest occupied by a shameless sparrow. This is my nest, I said. Yours, he answered with a rude laugh. Yes, mine. My ancestors were born here, and my sons will be born here also. And at that my husband set upon him and threw him out of the nest. I am sure nothing of this sort ever happens in a town. Not exactly, perhaps, but I have seen a great deal, if you only knew. Oh, do tell us, do tell us, cried they all, and when they had settled themselves comfortably, the city swallow began. You must know, then, that our king fell in love with the youngest daughter of a tailor, who was as good and gentle as she was beautiful. His nobles hoped that he would have chosen a queen from one of their daughters, and tried to prevent the marriage, but the king would not listen to them, and it took place. Not many months later, a war broke out, and the king rode away at the head of his army, while the queen remained behind, very unhappy at the separation. When peace was made, and the king returned, he was told that his wife had had two babies in his absence, but that both were dead, that she herself had gone out of her mind, and was obliged to be shut up in a tower in the mountains, where in time the fresh air might cure her. And was this not true, asked the swallows eagerly? Of course not, answered the city lady, with some contempt for their stupidity. The children were alive at that very moment in the gardener's cottage, but at night the chamberlain came down and put them in a cradle of crystal, which he carried to the river. For a whole day they floated safely, for though the stream was deep, it was very still, and the children took no harm. In the morning, so I am told by my friend the kingfisher, they were rescued by a fisherman who lived near the river bank. The children had been lying on the bench, listening lazily to the chatter up to this point, but when they heard the story of the crystal cradle, which their foster mother had always been fond of telling them, they sat upright and looked at each other. Oh, how glad I am, I learned the bird's language, said the eyes of one to the eyes of the other. Meanwhile, the swallows had spoken again. That was indeed good fortune, cried they, and when the children are grown up, they can return to their father and set their mother free. It will not be so easy as you think, answered the city swallow, shaking her head, for they will have to prove that they are the king's children, and also that their mother never went mad at all. In fact, it is so difficult that there is only one way of proving it to the king. And what is that, cried all the swallows at once, and how do you know it? I know it, answered the city swallow, because one day, when I was passing through the palace garden, I met a cuckoo who, as I need not tell you, always pretends to be able to see into the future. We began to talk about certain things which were happening in the palace and of the events of past years. Ah, said he, the only person who can expose the wickedness of the ministers and show the king how wrong he has been is the bird of truth, who can speak the language of men. And where can this bird be found? I asked. It is shot up in a castle guarded by a fierce giant who only sleeps one quarter of an hour out of the whole twenty-four, replied the cuckoo. And where is this castle, inquired the country swallow, who like all the rest and the children, most of all, had been listening with deep attention? That is just what I don't know, answered her friend. All I can tell you is that not far from here is a tower where dwells an old witch, and it is she who knows the way, and she will only teach it to the person who promises to bring her the water from the fountain of many colors, which she uses for her enchantments. But never will she betray the place where the bird of truth is hidden, for she hates him and would kill him if she could. Knowing well, however, that this bird cannot die, as he is immortal, she keeps him closely shut up, and guarded night and day by the birds of bad faith, who seek to gag him so that his voice should not be heard. And is there no one else who can tell the poor boy where to find the bird, if he should ever manage to reach the tower, asked the country swallow? No one, replied the city swallow, except an owl, who lives a hermit's life in that desert, and he knows only one word of man's speech, and that is cross, so that even if the prince did succeed in getting there, he could never understand what the owl said. But look, the sun is sinking to his nest in the depths of the sea, and I must go to mine. Good night, friends, good night. Then the swallow flew away, and the children, who had forgotten both hunger and weariness and the joy of this strange news, rose up and followed in the direction of her flight. After two hours walking, they arrived at a large city, which they felt sure must be the capital of their father's kingdom. Seeing a good-natured-looking woman standing at the door of a house, they asked her if she would give them a night's lodging, and she was so pleased with their pretty faces and nice manners that she welcomed them warmly. It was scarcely light the next morning before the girl was sweeping out the rooms and the boy watering the garden, so that by the time the good woman came downstairs there was nothing left for her to do. This so delighted her that she begged the children to stay with her altogether, and the boy answered that he would leave his sister with her gladly, but that he himself had serious business on hand and must not linger in pursuit of it. So he bade them farewell and set out. For three days he wandered by the most out-of-the-way paths, but no signs of a tower were to be seen anywhere. On the fourth morning it was just the same, and filled with despair he flung himself on the ground under a tree and hid his face in his hands. In a little while he heard a rustling over his head, and looking up he saw a turtle dove watching him with her bright eyes. "'O dove!' cried the boy, addressing the bird in her own language. "'O dove! Tell me, I pray you, where is the castle of come and never go?' "'Poor child!' answered the dove. "'Who has sent you on such a useless quest?' "'My good or evil fortune,' replied the boy. "'I know not which.' "'To get there,' said the dove, "'you must follow the wind, which today is blowing towards the castle.' The boy thanked her and followed the wind, fearing all the time that it might change its direction and lead him astray. But the wind seemed to feel pity for him and blew steadily on. With each step the country became more and more dreary, but at nightfall the child could see behind the dark and bare rocks something darker still. This was the tower in which dwelt the witch, and seizing the knocker he gave three loud knocks, which were echoed in the hollows of the rocks around. The door opened slowly, and there appeared on the threshold an old woman holding up a candle to her face, which was so hideous that the boy involuntarily stepped backwards, almost as frightened by the troop of lizards, beetles, and such creatures that surrounded her as by the woman herself. "'Who are you who dare to knock at my door and wake me?' cried she. "'Be quick and tell me what you want or it will be the worst for you.' "'Madame,' answered the child, "'I believe that you alone know the way to the castle of CUM and NEVER GO, and I pray you to show it to me.' "'Very good,' replied the witch, with something that she meant for a smile. "'But to-day it is late, to-morrow you shall go. Now enter, and you shall steep with my lizards. I cannot stay,' said he. "'I must go back at once, so as to reach the road from which I started before daydawns.' "'If I tell you, will you promise me that you will bring me there?' "'I promise me that you will bring me this jar full of the many-coloured water from the spring in the courtyard of the castle,' asked she. "'If you fail to keep your word, I will change you into a lizard for ever.' "'I promise,' answered the boy. Then the old woman called to a very thin dog and said to him, "'Conduct this pig of a child to the castle of CUM and NEVER GO, and take care that you warn my friend of his arrival.' And the dog arose and shook itself and set out. At the end of two hours they stopped in front of a large castle, big and black and gloomy, whose doors stood wide open, although neither sound nor light gave sign of any presence within. The dog, however, seemed to know what to expect, and after a wild howl went on. But the boy, who was uncertain whether this was the quarter of an hour when the giant was asleep, hesitated to follow him, and paused for a moment under a wild olive that grew nearby, the only tree which he had beheld since he had parted from the dove. "'Oh, heaven help me,' cried he. "'Cross, cross,' answered a voice. The boy leaped for joy as he recognized the note of the owl of which the swallow had spoken, and he said softly in the bird's language. "'Oh wise owl, I pray you to protect and guide me, for I have come in search of the bird of truth, and first I must fill this jar with the many-colored water in the courtyard of the castle.' "'Do not do that,' answered the owl, but filled the jar from the spring which bubbles close by the fountain with the many-colored water. Afterwards go into the aviary opposite the great door, but be careful not to touch any of the bright plumaged birds contained in it, which will cry to you each one that he is the bird of truth. Choose only a small white bird that is hidden in a corner, which the others try incessantly to kill, not knowing that it cannot die, and be quick, for at this very moment the giant has fallen asleep, and you have only a quarter of an hour to do everything.' The boy ran as fast as he could and entered the courtyard where he saw the two springs close together. He passed by the many-colored water without casting a glance at it, and filled the jar from the fountain whose water was clear and pure. He next hastened to the aviary, and was almost deafened by the clamor that rose as he shut the door behind him. Voices of peacocks, voices of ravens, voices of magpies, each claiming to be the bird of truth. With steadfast face the boy walked by them all to the corner, where, hemmed in by a hand of fierce crows, was the small white bird he saw, putting her safely in his breast, he passed out, followed by the screams of the birds of bad faith which he left behind him. Once outside he ran without stopping to the witch's tower, and handed to the old woman the jar she had given him. "'Become a parrot!' cried she, flinging the water over him. But instead of losing his shape as so many had done before, he only grew ten times handsomer, for the water was enchanted for good and not ill. Then the creeping multitude around the witch hastened to roll themselves in the water, and stood up, human beings again. When the witch saw what was happening, she took a broomstick and flew away. Who can guess the delight of the sister at the sight of her brother, bearing the bird of truth? But although the boy had accomplished much, something very difficult yet remained, and that was how to carry the bird of truth to the king, without her being seized by the wicked courtiers who would be ruined by the discovery of their plot. Soon no one knew how. The news spread abroad that the bird of truth was hovering round the palace, and the courtiers made all sorts of preparations to hinder her reaching the king. They got ready weapons that were sharpened, and weapons that were poisoned. They sent for eagles and falcons to hunt her down, and constructed cages and boxes in which to shut her up if they were not able to kill her. They declared that her white plumage was really put on to hide her black feathers. In fact, there was nothing they did not do in order to prevent the king from seeing the bird, or from paying attention to her words if he did. As often happens in these cases, the courtiers brought about that which they feared. They talked so much about the bird of truth that at last the king heard of it, and expressed a wish to see her. The more difficulties that were put in his way, the stronger grew his desire, and in the end the king published a proclamation that whoever found the bird of truth should bring her to him without delay. As soon as he saw this proclamation, the boy called his sister, and they hastened to the palace. The bird was buttoned inside his tunic, but as might have been expected, the courtiers barred the way and told the child that he could not enter. It was in vain that the boy declared that he was only obeying the king's commands. The courtiers only replied that his majesty was not yet out of bed, and it was forbidden to wake him. They were still talking, when suddenly the bird settled the question by flying upwards through an open window into the king's own room. A lighting on the pillow close to the king's head, she bowed respectfully and said, My lord, I am the bird of truth whom you wish to see, and I have been obliged to approach you in this manner, because the boy who brought me is kept out of the palace by your courtiers. They shall pay for their insolence, said the king, and he instantly ordered one of his attendants to conduct the boy at once to his apartments, and in a moment more the prince entered, holding his sister by the hand. Who are you, asked the king, and what has the bird of truth to do with you? If it please your majesty, the bird of truth will explain that herself answered the boy. And the bird did explain, and the king heard for the first time of the wicked plot that had been successful for so many years. He took his children in his arms, with tears in his eyes, and hurried off with them to the tower in the mountains where the queen was shut up. The poor woman was as white as marble, for she had been living almost in darkness. But when she saw her husband and children, the colour came back to her face, and she was as beautiful as ever. They all returned in state to the city where great rejoicings were held. The wicked courtiers had their heads cut off, and all their property was taken away. As for the good old couple, they were given riches and honour, and were loved and cherished to the end of their lives. End of The Bird of Truth Chapter 28 of The Orange Fairy Book by Andrew Lang This is the LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Veronica Peake The Mink and the Wolf In a big forest in the north of America, lived a quantity of wild animals of all sorts. They were always very polite when they met. But, in spite of that, they kept a close watch, one upon the other, as each was afraid of being killed and eaten by somebody else. But their manners were so good that no one would ever have guessed that. One day, a smart young wolf went out to hunt, promising his grandfather and grandmother that he would be sure to be back before bedtime. He trod it along quite happily through the forest, till he came to a favourite place of his, just where the river runs into the sea. There, just as he had hoped, he saw the chief mink fishing in a canoe. I want to fish too, cried the wolf, but the mink said nothing and pretended not to hear. I wish you would take me into your boat, shouted the wolf, louder than before, and he continued to beseech the mink so long, that at last he grew tired of it and paddled to the shore, close enough for the wolf to jump in. Sit down quietly at that end or we shall be upset, said the mink, and if you care about sea urchins' eggs, you will find plenty in that basket, but be sure you eat only the white ones, for the red ones would kill you. So the wolf, who was always hungry, began to eat the eggs greedily, and when he had finished, he told the mink he thought he would have a nap. Well then, stretch yourself out and rest your head on that piece of wood, said the mink, and the wolf did as he was bid, and was soon fast asleep. Then the mink crept up to him and stabbed him to the heart with his knife. And he died without moving. After that, he landed on the beach, skinned the wolf, and, taking the skin to his cottage, he hung it up before the fire to dry. Not many days later, the wolf's grandmother, who, with the help of her relations, had been searching for him everywhere, entered the cottage to buy some sea urchins' eggs, and saw the skin, which she at once guessed to be that of her grandson. I knew he was dead! I knew it! I knew it! She cried, weeping bitterly, till the mink told her rudely that if she wanted to make so much noise, she had better do it outside, as he loved to be quiet. So half-blinded by her tears, the old woman went home the way she had come, and running in at the door, she flung herself down in front of the fire. What are you crying for? asked the old wolf, and some friends who had been spending the afternoon with him. I shall never see my grandson any more until she mink has killed him! And putting her head down, she began to weep as loudly as ever. There, there, said her husband, laying his paw on her shoulder, be comforted. If he is dead, we will avenge him. And according to the others, they proceeded to talk over the best plan. It took them a long time to make up their minds, as one wolf proposed one thing, and one another. But at last it was agreed that the old wolf should give a great feast in his house, and that the mink should be invited to the party. And in order that no time should be lost, it was further agreed that each wolf should bear the invitations to the guests that lived nearest to him. Now the wolves thought they were very cunning, but the mink was more cunning still. And though he sent a message by a white hare that was going that way, saying he should be delighted to be present, he determined that he would take his precautions. So he went to a mouse who had often done him a good turn, and greeted her with his best bow. I have a favour to ask of you, friend Mouse said him, and if he will grant it, I will carry you on my back every night for a week to the patch of maze right up the hill. The favour is mine, answered the mouse. Tell me what it is that I can have the honour of doing for you. Oh, something quite easy, replied the mink. I only want you, between today and the next full moon, to gnaw through the bows and paddles of the wolf people, so that directly they use them they will break. But of course you must manage it so that they notice nothing. Of course, answered the mouse, nothing is easier, but as the full moon is tomorrow night and there is not much time, I had better begin at once. Then the mink thanked her and went his way, but before he had gone far he came back again. Perhaps while you were about the wolf's house seeing up to the bows, it would do no harm if he were to make that knot hole in the wall a little bigger, said he, not large enough to draw attention of course, but it might come in handy, and with another knot he left her. The next evening the mink washed and brushed himself carefully and set out for the feast. He smiled to himself as he looked at the dusty track, and perceived that though the marks of wall's feats were many, not a single guest was to be seen anywhere. He knew very well what that meant. He had taken his precautions and was not afraid. The house door stood open, but through a crack the mink could see the wolves crowding in the corner behind it. However, he ended boldly, and as soon as he was fairly inside, the door was shut with a bang, and the whole herd sprang at him with their red tongues hanging out of their mouths. Quick as they were, they were too late, for the mink was already through the knot hole and racing for his canoe. The knot hole was too small for the wolves, and there were so many of them in the hut that it was some time before they could get the door open. Then they seized the bows and arrows which were hanging on the walls, and, once outside, aimed at the flying mink. But as they pulled, the bows broken their paws, so they threw them away and bounded to the shore, with all their speed to the place where their canoes were drawn up on the beach. Now, although the mink could not run as fast as the wolves, he had a good start, and was already afloat when the swiftest among them threw themselves into the newest canoe. They pushed off, but as they dipped the paddles into the water, they snapped as the bows had done, and were quite useless. I know where there are some new ones, cried a young fellow, leaping on shore and rushing to a little cave at the back of the beach. And the mink's heart smote him when he heard, for he had not known of this secret storm. After a long chase, the wolves managed to surround their prey, and the mink, seeing it was no good resisting anymore, gave himself up. Some of the elder wolves brought out some cedar bands, which they always carried wound around their bodies. But the mink laughed scornfully at the sight of them. Why, I could snap those in a moment, said he, if you want to make sure that I cannot escape, better take a line of kelp and bind me with that. You are right, answered the grandfather, your wisdom is greater than ours. And he bade his servants gather enough kelp from the rocks to make a line, as they had brought none with them. While the line is being made, you might as well let me have one last dance, remarked the mink. And the wolves replied, Very good, you may have your dance, perhaps it may amuse us as well as you. So they brought two canoes, and placed them one beside the other. The mink stalled upon his hind legs and began to dance, first in one canoe, and then in the other. And so graceful was he, that the wolves forgot they were going to put him to death, and howled with pleasure. Paula canoes a little apart, they are too close for this new dance, he said, pausing for a moment, and the wolves separated them while he gave a series of little springs, sometimes piruating, while he stood with one foot on the prow of birds. Now nearer, now further apart, he would cry as the dance went on. No, further still. And springing into the air, amidst howls of applause, he came down head foremost, and dived to the bottom. And though the wolves, whose howls had now changed into those of rage, sought him everywhere, they never found him, for he hid behind a rock to lay were out of sight, and then made his home in another forest. The end of the mink and the wolves. Chapter 29 of the Orange Fairy Book This is the Librivolc's recording. All Librivolc's recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit Librivolc.org. Recording by Ted Nugent. The Orange Fairy Book by Andrew Lang. Chapter 29. Adventures of an Indian Breath from the Journal of the Anthropological Institute A long, long way off, right away in the west of America, they once lived an old man who had one son. The country round was covered with forests, in which dwelt all kinds of beasts. And the young man and his companions used to spell whole days in humbling them. And he was the finest hunter of all the tribe. One morning, when winter was coming on, the youth and his companions set off as usual to bring back some of the mountain goats and deer to be salted down. As he was afraid of a snowstorm, and if the wind blew and the snow drifted, the forest might be impossible for some wicks. The old man and the wife, however, would not go out, but remained in the weak one, making bows and arrows. It soon grew so cold in the forest that at last, one of the men declared they could walk no more, unless they could manage to warm themselves. That is easily done, said the leader, giving a kick to a large tree. Flames broke out in the trunk, and before it had burned up, they were as hot as if it had been summer. Then they started off to the place where the goats and deer were to be found in the greatest numbers, and soon had killed as many as they wanted. But the leader killed most, as he was the best shot. Now we must cut up the game and divide it, said he, and so they did, each one taking his own share, and walking one behind the other set out for the village. But when they reached the great river, the young man did not want the trouble of carrying his pack any further, and left it on the bank. I'm going home another way, he told his companions, and taking another road, he reached the village long before they did. Have you returned with empty hands? Ask the old man, as his son opened the door. Have I ever done that, that you put me such a question? Ask the you of no. I have slain enough to fisters for many moons, but it was heavy, and I left the pack on the bank of the great river. Give me the arrows, I will finish making them, and you can go to the river and bring home the pack. So the old man rose and went, and strapped the meat on his shoulder. But as he was crossing the fort, the strap broke, and the pack fell into the river. He stood to catch it, but its sword passed him. He clutched again, but in doing so, he overbalanced himself, and was hurried into some rapids, where he was knocked against some rocks, and he sank and was drowned. And his body was carried down the stream into smoother water, when it rose to the surface again. But by this time, it had lost all likeness to a man, and was changed into a piece of wood. The wood floated on, and the river got bigger and bigger, and entered a new country. There, it was borne by the current close to the shore, and a woman, who was down there washing her clothes, caught it as it passed. And do it out, saying to herself, What a nice, smooth plank! I will use it as a table to put my foot upon. And, gathering up her clothes, she took the plank with her into her hut. When her supper time came, she stretched the board across two strings, which hung from the roof, and sat upon it the pot containing a stew, that smelled very good. The woman had been walking hot all day, and was very hungry. So, she took her bigger spoon, and plunged it into the pot. But what was her astonishment and disgust, when both pot and food vanished instantly before her? Oh, you horrid plank! You have brought me ill luck, she cried. And, taking it up, she flung it away from her. The woman had been surprised before at the disappearance of her food, but she was more astonished still, when, instead of the plank, she beheld a baby. However, she was fond of children, and had none of her own, so she made up her mind that she would keep it and take care of it. The baby grew and drove, as no baby in that country had ever done. And in four days, he was a man, and as tall and strong as any breath of the tribe. You have treated me well, he said, and mead shall never fail to your house. But now I must go, for I have much work to do. Then he set out for his home. It took him many days to gather, and when he saw his son sitting in his place, his anger was killedent, and his heart was due to take vengeance upon him. So he went out quickly into the forest, and shed tears, and each tear became a boot. Stay there till I want to, said he, and he returned to the hut. I saw some pretty new birds high up in a tree yonder, he remarked, and the son answered, Show me the way, and I will get them for dinner. The two went out together, and after walking for about half an hour, the old man stopped. That is the tree, he said, and the son began to climb it. Now a strange thing happened. The higher the young man climbed, the higher the birds seemed to be, and when he looked down, the earthbellow appeared no bigger than a star. Till he tried to go back, but he could not, and though he could not see the birds any longer, he felt as if something were dragging him up and up. He thought that he had been climbing that tree for days, and perhaps he had, for suddenly, a beautiful country, yellow with fields of mace, stretched before him, and he gladly left the top of the tree and entered it. He walked through the mace without knowing where he was going. When he heard the sound of knocking, and saw two old, blind women, crushing their food between two stones, he crept up to them on tiptoe, and when one old woman passed her dinner to the other, he hand out his hand and took it and ate it for himself. How slow you are needing that cake, cried the other old woman at last. Why, I have given you your dinner, and what more do you want? replied the second. You didn't. At least I never got it, said the other. I certainly thought you took it from me, but here it's some more. And again, the young man stretched out his hand, and the two old women fell to quarrelling afresh. But when it happened for the third time, the old women suspected some trick, and one of them exclaimed, I'm sure there is a man here. Tell me, are you not my grandson? Yes, answered the young man who wished to place her. And in return for your good dinner, I will see if I cannot restore your sights, for I was taught in the art of healing by the best medicine man in the tribe. And with that he left them, and he wandered about till he found the herb which he wanted. Then he hastened back to the old women, and begging them to boil him some water, he threw the herb in. As soon as the pot began to sing, he took off the lid, and sprinkled the eyes of the women, and sight came back to them once more. There was no night in that country, so instead of going to bed very early, as he would have done in his own heart, the young man took another walk. A splashing noise nearby drew him down to a valley, through which ran a large river, and up a waterfall some salmon were leaping. How the silver sign glistened in the light, and how he longed to catch some of the great fellows. But how could he do it? He had beheld no one except the old women, and it was not very likely that they would be able to help him. So with the sigh, he turned away and went back to them. But as he walked, a thought struck him. He pulled out one of his hairs which hung nearly to his waist, and it instantly became a strong line, nearly a mile in length. Weave me a net that I may catch some salmon, said he, and they wove him the net he asked for, and for many weeks he watched by the river, only going back to the old women when he wanted a fish cook it. At last one day, when he was eating his dinner, the old women who always spoke first said to him, We have been very glad to see you grandson, but now it is time that you went home, and pushing aside the route, he saw a deep hole, so deep that he could not see the bottom. Then they dragged the basket out of the house and tied a rope to it. Get in and wrap this blanket around your head, said they, and whatever happens, don't uncover it till you get to the bottom. Then they bit him farewell, and he curled himself up in the basket. Down, down, down he went. Would he ever stop going? But when the basket did stop, the young man forgot what he had been told, and put his head out to see what was the matter. In an instant the basket moved, but to his horror, instead of going down, he felt himself being drawn upwards, and shortly after he beheld the faces of the old women. You will never see your wife and son if you will not do as you have been, said they. Now get in and do not stir till you hear a crow calling. This time the young man was wiser, and though the basket often stopped, and strange creatures seemed to rest on him, and to pluck at his blanket, he handed tie till he heard the crow calling. Then he flung off the blanket and sprang out, while the basket vanished in the sky. He walked on quickly down the track that led to the hut, when before him he saw his wife with his little son on her back. Oh, here is father at last, cried the boy, but the mother bet him ceased from middle talking. But mother, it is true, father is coming, repeated the child, and to satisfy him, the woman turned round and perceived her husband. Oh, how glad they all were to be together again, and when the wind whistled through the forest, and the snow stood in great bangs round the door. The father used to take the little boy on his knee, and tell him how he caught salmon in the land of the sun. Chapter 30 of The Orange Fairy Book This is a liber-vox recording of the liber-vox recordings that are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit liber-vox.org. Recording by Maria Therese, The orange fairy book by Andrew Lang. Halasdallos were tricked, from the Journal of the Anthropological Institute. Mother, I have seen such a wonderful man, said a little boy one day, as he entered a hut in Lapland, bearing in his arms the bundle of sticks he had been sent out to gather. Have you, my son? And what was he like? asked the mother, as she took off the child's sheepskin coat and shook it on the doorstep. Well, I was tired of stewing for the sticks and was leaning against the tree to rest when I heard a noise of shh, shh, among the dead leaves. I thought perhaps it was a wolf, so I stood very still. But soon there came past a tall man, oh, twice as tall as father, with a long red beard and a red tunic fastened with a silver girdle from which hung a silver-handled knife. Behind him followed a great dog which looked stronger than any wolf or even a bear. But why are you so pale, mother? He was the Stalo, replied she, her voice trembling. Stalo, the mean-eater, who did well to hide, or you might never had come back. But remember that, though he is so tall and strong, he is very stupid, and many a lap has escaped from his clutches by playing him some clever trick. Not long after the mother and son had held this talk, it began to be whispered in the forest that the children of an old man called Peto had vanished one by one. No one knew wither. The unhappy father searched the country for miles around, without being able to find as much as a shoe or a handkerchief to show him where they had passed. But at length a little boy came with news that he had seen the Stalo hiding behind a well near which the children used to play. The boy had waited behind a clump of bushes to see what would happen. And by and by he noticed that the Stalo had laid a cunning trap in the path to the well, and that anybody who fell over it would roll into the water and drown there. And as he watched, Peto's youngest daughter ran glee down the path till her foot caught in the strings that were stretched across the deepest place. She slipped and fell, and in another instant had rolled into the water within reach of the Stalo. As soon as Peto heard this tale, his heart was filled with rage, and he vowed to have his revenge. So he straightway took an old fur coat from the hook where it hung, and putting it on went out into the forest. When he reached the path that led to the well, he looked hastily around to make sure that no one was watching him. He laid himself down as if he had been caught in the snare and had rolled into the well, though he took care to keep his head out of the water. Very soon he heard a shh-shh of a leaves, and there was the Stalo pushing his way through the undergrowth to see what chance he had of a dinner. At the first glimpse of Peto's head in the well, he laughed loudly, crying, Ha! Ha! This time it is the old ass. I wonder how he will taste. In drawing Peto out of the well, he thung him across his shoulders and carried him home. Then he tied a cord around him and hung him over the fire to roast, while he finished a box that he was making before the door of the hut, which he meant to hold Peto's flesh when it was cooked. In a very short time the box was so nearly done that it only wanted a little more chipping out with an axe, but this part of the work was easier accomplished indoors, and he called to one of his sons, who were lounging inside to bring him the toll. The young man looked everywhere, but he could not find the axe, for the very good reason that Peto had managed to pick it up and hide it in his clothes. Stupid fellow, what is the use of you, grumbled his father angrily, and he bade first one and then another of his sons to fetch him the toll, but they had no better success than their brother. I must come myself, I suppose, said Stalo, putting aside the box. Meanwhile, Peto had slipped from the hook and concealed himself behind the door, so that as Stalo stepped in, his prisoner raised the axe, and with one blow the Uggre's head was rolling on the ground. His sons were so frightened at the sight that they all ran away, and in this manner Peto avenged his dead children. But though Stalo was dead, his three sons were still living, and not far off either. They had gone to their mother, who was tending some reindeer on the pastures, and told her that by some magic they knew not what their father's head had rolled from his body, and they had been so afraid that something dreadful would happen to them that they had come to take refuge with her. The Uggre said nothing. Long ago she had found out how stupid her sons were, so she just sent them out to milk the reindeer, while she returned to the other house to bury her husband's body. Now three days' journey from the hut on the pastures, two brothers Sodno dwelt in a small cottage with their sister Lyma, who tended a large herd of reindeer while they were out hunting. Of late it had been whispered from one to another that the three young Stalas were to be seen on the pastures. But the Sodno brothers did not disturb themselves. The danger seemed too far away. Unluckily, however, one day, when Lyma was left by herself in the hut, the three Stalas came down and carried her and the reindeer off to their own cottage. The country was very lonely, and perhaps no one would have known in which direction she had gone had not the girl managed to tie a ball of thread to the handle of a door at the back of the cottage and let it trail behind her. Of course the ball was not long enough to go all the way, but it lay on the edge of a snowy track which led straight to the Stalas's house. When the brothers returned from their hunting they found both the hut and the sheds empty. Loudly they cried, Lyma, Lyma! But no voice answered them, and they fell to searching all about, lest perchance their sister might have dropped some clue to guide them. At length their eyes dropped on the thread which lay on the snow, and they set out to follow it. On and on they went, and when at length the threads stopped, the brothers knew that another day's journey would bring them to the Stalas dwelling. Of course they did not dare to approach it openly. For the Stalas had the strength of giants, and besides there were three of them, so the two sod-nose climbed into a big bushy tree which overhung a well. Perhaps our sister may be sent to draw water here, they said to each other, but it was not till the moon had risen that the sister came, and as she let down her bucket into the well the leaves seemed to whisper, Lyma, Lyma! The girl started and looked up, but could see nothing, and in a moment the voice came again. Be careful, take no notice, fill your buckets, but listen carefully all the while, and we will tell you what to do so that you may escape yourself and set free the reindeer also. So Lyma bent over the well lower than before, and seemed busier than ever. You know, said her brother, that when a Stalva finds that anything has been dropped into his food he will not eat a morsel, but throws it to his dogs. Now after the pot has been hanging some time over the fire, and the broth is nearly cooked, just rake up the log of wood so that some of the ashes fly into the pot. The Stalva will soon notice this, and will call you to give all the food to the dogs, but instead you must bring it straight to us, as it is three days since we have eaten or drunk. That is all you need to do for the present. Then Lyma took up her buckets and carried them into the house, and did as her brothers had told her. They were so hungry that they ate the food up greedily without speaking, but when there was nothing left in the pot, the eldest said, Listen carefully to what I have to tell you. After the eldest Stalva has cooked and eaten a fresh supper, he will go to bed and sleep so soundly that not even a witch could wake him. You can hear him snoring a mile off, and then you must go into his room and pull off the iron mantel that covers him, and put it on the fire till it is almost red hot. When that is done, come to us, and we will give you further directions. I will obey you in everything, dear brothers, answered Lyma, and so she did. It had happened that on this very evening the Stalva's had driven in some of the reindeer from the pasture, and had tied them up to the wall of the house so that they might be handy to kill for next day's dinner. The two sod-nodes had seen what they were doing, and where the beasts were secured. So at midnight when all was still, they crept down from their tree and seized the reindeer by the horns which were locked together. The animals were frightened, and began to neigh and kick as if they were fighting together, and the noise became so great that even the Otis Stalva was awakened by it, and that was the thing which had never occurred before. Raising himself in his bed, he called to his youngest brother to go out and separate the reindeer, or they would certainly kill themselves. The young Stalva did as he was bid, and left the house, but no sooner was he out of the door than he was stabbed to the heart by one of the sod-nodes, and fell without a groan. Then they went back to worry the reindeer, and the noise became as great as ever, and a second time the Stalva awoke. The boy does not seem to be able to part the beasts, he cried to his second brother, go and help him, or I shall never get to sleep. So the brother went, and in an instant was struck dead as he left the house, by the sword of the Otis Stalva. The Stalva waited in a bed a little longer for things to get quiet, but as the clatter of the reindeer's horns was as bad as ever, he rose angrily from his bed, muttering to himself. It is extraordinary that they could not unlock themselves, but as no one else seems able to help them, I suppose I must go and do it. Rubbing his eyes he stood up on the floor and stretched his great arms and gave a yawn which shook the walls. The sod-nodes heard it below, and posted themselves, one at the big door, and one at the little door at the back, for they did not know what their enemy would come out of. The Stalva put out his hand to take his iron mantel from the bed, where it always lay, but the mantel was not there. He wondered where it could be, and who could have moved it, and after searching all the rooms he found it hanging over the kitchen fire. But the first touch burnt him so badly that he let it alone, and went with nothing, except a stick in his hand through the back door. The young sod-node was standing ready for him, and as the Stalva put past the threshold struck him such a blow on the head that he rolled over with a crash and never stirred again. The two sod-nodes did not trouble about him, but quickly stripped the younger Stalvas of their clothes in which they dressed themselves. Then they sat still till the dawn should break, and they could find out from the Stalva's mother where the treasure was hidden. With the first rays of the sun the young sod-node went upstairs and entered the old woman's room. She was already up and dressed and sitting by the window-knitting, and the young man crept in softly and crashed down on the floor, laying his head on her lap. For a while he kept silence, and then he whispered gently, Tell me, dear mother, where did my eldest brother conceal his riches? What a strange question! Surely you must know! answered she. No, I have forgotten. My memory is so bad. He dug a hole under the doorstep and placed it there, said she, and there was another pause. By and by the sod-node asked again, and where may my second brother's money be? Don't you know that either? cried the mother in surprise. Oh, yes, I did once, but since I fell upon my head I can remember nothing. It is behind the oven, answered she, and again with silence. Mother, dear mother, said the young man at last, I am almost afraid to ask you, but I really have grown so stupid of late. Where did I hide my own money? But at this question the old woman flew into a passion and vowed that if she could find a rod she would bring his memory back to him. Luckily, no rod was within her reach, and the sod-node managed, after a little, to coax her back into good humor, and at length she told him that the youngest doll-o had buried his treasure under the very place where she was sitting. Dear mother, said Lyman, who had come in unseen and was kneeling in front of the fire, dear mother, do you know who it is you have been talking with? The old woman started, but answered quietly. It is the sod-node, I suppose. You have guessed right, replied Lyman. The mother of the Stalos looked round for her iron cane, which she always used to kill her victims, but it was not there, for Lyman had put it in the fire. Where is my iron cane? asked the old woman. There! answered Lyman, pointing to the flames. The old woman sprang forwards and seized it, but her clothes caught fire, and in a few minutes she was burnt to ashes. So the sod-node brothers found the treasure, and they carried it, and their sister and the reindeer, to their own home, and were the richest men in all Lapland. End of Stalos were tricked, recording by Maria Therese. Stalos Bave From Laplandish Marchion, J. C. Postion Once upon a time there lived in Lapland a man who was very strong and swift of foot, that nobody in his native town of Vodso could come near him if they were running races in the summer evenings. The people of Vodso were very proud of their champion, and thought that there was no one like him in the world. So, by and by, it came to their ears that there dwelt among the mountains a lap, Andres Bave by name, who was said by his friends to be even stronger and swifter than the bailiff. Of course not a creature in Vodso believed that, and declared that if it made the mountaineers happier to talk such nonsense, why let them? The winter was long and cold, and the thoughts of the villagers were much busier with wolves than with Andres Bave, when suddenly on a frosty day he made his appearance in the little town of Vodso. The bailiff was delighted at this chance of trying his strength, and at once went out to seek Andres, and to coax him into giving proof of his vigor. As he walked along his eyes fell upon a big eight-ord boat that had lay upon the shore, and his face shone with pleasure. That is the very thing, laughed he. I will make him jump over that boat. Andres was quite ready to accept the challenge, and they soon settled the terms of the wager. He who could jump over the boat without so much as touching it with his heel was to be the winner, and would get a large sum of money as the prize. So, followed by many villagers, the two men walked down to the sea. An old fisherman was chosen to stand near the boat to watch fair play and to hold the stakes. And Andres, as the stranger was told to jump first, going back to the flag which had been stuck into the sand to mark the starting place, he ran forward with his head well thrown back and cleared the boat with a mighty bound. The onlookers cheered him, and indeed he well deserved it. But they waited anxiously all the same to see what the bailiff would do. On he came, taller than Andres by several inches and heavier of built. He too sprang high and well, but as he came down his heel just grazed the edge of the boat. Dead silence reigned amidst the town folk, but Andres only laughed and said carelessly, just a little too short, bailiff, next time you must do better than that. The bailiff turned red with anger at his rival's scornful words, and answered quickly, next time you will have something harder to do. And turning his back on his friends, he went sulkily home. Andres, putting the money he had earned in his pocket, went home also. The following spring Andres happened to be driving his reindeer along a great fjord to the west of Vatso. A boy who had met him hastened to tell the bailiff that his enemy was only a few miles off, and the bailiff, disguising himself as a stalo, or ogre, called his son and his dog and rode away across the fjord to the place where the boy had met Andres. Now the mountaineer was lazily walking along the sands, thinking of the new hut that he was building with the money that he had won on the day of his lucky jump. He wandered on, his eyes fixed on the sands, so he did not see the bailiff drive his boat behind a rock while he changed himself into a heap of wreckage which floated in on the waves. A stumble over a stone recalled Andres to himself, and looking up he beheld a mass of wreckage. Dear me, I may find some use for that," he said, and hastened down to the sea, waiting until he could lay hold of some stray rope which might float towards him. Suddenly he could not have told why, a nameless fear seized upon him, and he fled away from the shore as if for his life. As he ran he heard the sound of a pipe, such as only ogres of the stallokind were wont to use, and there flashed into his mind what the bailiff had said when they jumped the boat. Next time you will have something harder to do. So it was no wreckage after all that he had seen, but the bailiff himself. It happened that in the long summer nights up in the mountain, where the sun never set, and it was very difficult to sleep, the bailiff had spent many hours in the study of magic, and this stood him in good stead now. The instant he heard the stallokind music he wished himself to become the feet of a reindeer, and in the skies he galloped like the wind for several miles. He stopped to take breath and find out what his enemy was doing. Nothing he could see, but to his ears the notes of a pipe floated over the plain, and ever as he listened it drew nearer. A cold shiver shook Andrus, and this time he wished himself the feet of a reindeer calf, for when a reindeer calf has reached the age at which he begins first to lose his hair, he is so swift that neither beast nor bird can come near him. A reindeer calf is the swiftest of all things living. Yes, but not so swift as a stallok, as Andrus found out when he stopped to rest and heard the pipes playing. For a moment his heart sank, and he gave himself up for dead, till he remembered that not far off were two little lakes joined together by a short, though very broad river. In the middle of the river lay a stone that was always covered by water, except in dry seasons. And as the water rains had been very heavy, he felt quite sure that not even the top of it could be seen. The next minute, if anyone had been looking that way, he would have beheld the small reindeer calf speeding northwards, and by and by giving a little spring, which landed him in the midst of the stream. But instead of sinking to the bottom, he paused the second to steady himself, then gave a second spring which landed him on the further shore. He next ran up to a little hill, where he saw down, and began to neigh loudly, so the stallok might know exactly where he was. Ah, there you are! cried the stallok, appearing in the opposite bank. For a moment I really thought I had lost you. No such luck! answered Andrus, shaking his head sorrowfully. By this time he had taken his own shape again. Well, but I don't see how I am to get to you, said the stallok looking up and down. Jump over as I did, answered Andrus. It's quite easy. But I could not jump this river, and I don't know how you did, replied the stallok. I should be ashamed to say such things, exclaimed Andrus. Do you mean to tell me that a jump which the weakest lap-boy could make nothing of is beyond your strength? The stallok grew red and angry when he heard these words, just as Andrus meant him to do. He bounded into the air and fell straight into the river. Not that it would have mattered, for he was a good swimmer. But Andrus drew out the bow and arrows which every lap carries, and took aim at him. His aim was good, but the stallok sprang so high into the air that the arrow flew between his feet. A second shot directed at his forehead fared no better. For this time the stallok jumped so high to the other side that the arrow passed between his fingers and thumb. Then Andrus aimed his third arrow a little over the stallok's head, and when he sprang, just an instant too soon, he hit him between the ribs. Mortally wounded as he was, the stallok was not yet dead and managed to swim to the shore. Stretching himself on the sand, he said slowly to Andrus, Promise that you will give me an honourable burial, and when my body is laid in the grave go in my boat across the fjord and take whatever you find in my house which belongs to me. My dog you must kill, but spare my son, Andrus. Then he died, and Andrus sailed in his boat, away across the fjord, and found the dog and the boy. The dog, a fierce wicked-looking creature, he slew with one blow from his fist, for it is well known that if a stallok's dog licks the blood that flows from his dead master's wounds, the stallok comes to life again. That is why no real stallok is ever seen without his dog. But the bailiff, being only half a stallok, had forgotten him when he went to the little lakes in search of Andrus. Next Andrus put all the gold in jewels which he found in the boat into his pockets, and bidding the boy get in, pushed it off from the shore, leaving the little craft adrift as it would, while he himself ran home. With the treasure he possessed he was able to buy a great herd of reindeer, and he soon married a rich wife, whose parents would not have him as a son-in-law when he was poor. And the two lived happy forever after.