The Orange Fairy Book (33 page)

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 liked 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!' answered she. 'Mink has
killed him, oh! oh!' 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 calling 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 he, 'and if you
will grant it I will carry you on my back every night for a week to the
patch of maize 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 to-day 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 to-morrow 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 are about the wolf's house seeing after the bows,
it would do no harm if you 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 nod 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 wolves' feet were many,
not a single guest was to be seen anywhere. He knew very well what
that meant; but 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 entered 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 broke in 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 nearest 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 store.

After a long chase the wolves managed to surround their prey, and the
mink, seeing it was no good resisting any more, gave himself up. Some
of the elder wolves brought out some cedar bands, which they always
carried wound round 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
stood up on 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.

'Pull the 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, sometime pirouetting while he
stood with one foot on the prow of both. '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 through the wolves, whose
howls had now changed into those of rage, sought him everywhere, they
never found him, for he hid behind a rock till they were out of sight,
and then made his home in another forest.

(From the Journal of the Anthropological Institute.)

A long, long way off, right away in the west of America, there once
lived an old man who had one son. The country round was covered with
forests, in which dwelt all kinds of wild beasts, and the young man and
his companions used to spend whole days in hunting 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 snow-storm; and if the wind blew
and the snow drifted the forest might be impassable for some weeks.
The old man and the wife, however, would not go out, but remained in
the wigwam 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 burnt 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 a great river the young man
did not want the trouble of carrying his pack any further, and left it
on the bank.

'I am 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?' asked the old man, as his son
opened the door.

'Have I ever done that, that you put me such a question?' asked the
youth. 'No; I have slain enough to feast us 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 ford the strap broke and the pack fell into
the river. He stooped to catch it, but it swirled past him. He
clutched again; but in doing so he over- balanced 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 drew it out, saying to herself: 'What a nice smooth plank! I will
use it as a table to put my food 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 set upon it the pot containing a stew
that smelt very good. The woman had been working hard all day and was
very hungry, so she took her biggest 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 throve as no baby in that country had ever done,
and in four days he was a man, and as tall and strong as any brave of
the tribe.

'You have treated me well,' he said, 'and meat 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 get there, and when he saw his son sitting in
his place his anger was kindled, and his heart was stirred to take
vengeance upon him. So he went out quickly into the forest and shed
tears, and each tear became a bird. 'Stay there till I want you,' 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
they 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 earth below
appeared no bigger than a star. Sill 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 maize,
stretched before him, and he gladly left the top of the tree and
entered it. He walked through the maize without knowing where he was
going, when he heard a 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 held out his
hand and took it and ate if for himself.

'How slow you are kneading 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 is 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 am sure there is a man here; tell me, are you not my grandson?'

'Yes,' answered the young man, who wished to please her, 'and in return
for your good dinner I will see if I cannot restore your sight; for I
was taught in the art of healing by the best medicine man in the
tribe.' And with that he left them, and 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 hut, the young man took another
walk. A splashing noise near by drew him down to a valley through
which ran a large river, and up a waterfall some salmon were leaping.
How their silver sides 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 a 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.