Part 9

"Do not grieve to death because of that," said the old woman, "for I have better magic than that in my head. The next time the Sun comes to visit you we will be in the garden and I will change you into a blade of grass, and among all the other blades he will be sure not to find you."

So the next day the old woman and her nursling were sitting out in the garden, and presently they knew, by the golden glow in the sky, that the Sun was coming to look for his sister. Then the old nurse changed her into a blade of grass, and no one could have told her from all the other blades in the garden.

Out came the Sun to where the old nurse sat, and looked about him. "I had thought to find the beautiful Helen here," said he.

"She was here a moment ago," answered the nurse, "and had you come then, you might have seen her."

"How green the grass is all about," said the Sun. "Since she is not here I will have a nibble of it."

He then changed himself into a lamb and began to nibble about. Presently he came to the tuft of grass where Helen was. Seeing that his teeth were about to close upon her she cried out in a woeful voice, "Alas, my brother, I have never harmed you; do not bite me, I beg of you."

"Then do not try to escape me by any such tricks of magic," answered the Sun. Thereupon he took back his natural shape, and the beautiful Helen was obliged to take her own shape, too.

After he had gone away she began to weep and lament. "If you can do no better than this with your magic the marriage will surely go on."

"Wait until to-morrow," answered the nurse. "Then I will turn you into a reed that grows beside the river. I am sure he will never think of looking for you there."

So the next day at about the time when the Sun would be coming, the old nurse changed Helen into a reed beside the river, but she herself sat in the garden that the Sun might suspect nothing.

After a while the Sun came out to look for his sister, but he found no one but the old nurse sitting there all by herself. "No matter," said the Sun; "I have a notion of making music for a while. I will go down to the river and cut a reed to make a pipe for myself."

When the old nurse heard that she turned pale, but she did not dare to say anything. The Sun went down to the river and she followed him. He went straight to the reed that was the beautiful Helen, and drew his knife and set it at the root. Then the reed cried aloud in a doleful voice: "Alas, my brother, I have done you no harm. Do not slay me."

"Ha!" cried the Sun, "is it you, fair one? Now you see that all the magic in the world cannot hide you from me, and to-morrow you shall be my bride."

After he had gone, the beautiful Helen turned to her nurse. "Now I see that magic can indeed avail me nothing," she said, "and only heaven itself can save me."

The next day was to be the wedding, and when the beautiful Helen was dressed in her bridal clothes she was as pale as ashes, but so beautiful that the heart ached to look at her.

The Sun took her by the hand and led her into the church, and all the candles were lighted and the priests and guests were there.

Then the beautiful Helen called upon heaven to save her. Three times she called, and at the third time all the lights went out, and a great wind swept through the church. The priests were terrified and the guests did not know which way to fly. As for the Sun he cried aloud with rage and disappointment, for he felt that his beautiful bride was gone from his side. She had been carried up and away to where he could never find her. Then she was changed into the moon, and ever since, still and calm and bright she sails up the sky at night after the Sun has gone to rest and holds the earth and sea under her gentle rule.

Sometimes she rises while he is still sinking toward the west. Red and angry he grows as he sees her rising above the horizon in her shining beauty, but he cannot reach her, for the whole heaven is between them.

HOW THE ELEPHANT AND THE WHALE WERE TRICKED

(_From Louisiana Creole Tales_)

ONE time the rabbit and the ground hog went out to walk together. The rabbit wore his blue coat with brass buttons, for it was a fine day, and cocked his hat gayly over one eye, but the ground hog was content with his old fur overcoat, and galoshes to keep his feet dry.

They walked along until at last they came to the seashore, and there they saw the elephant standing and talking to the whale. "Look!" said the ground hog; "that is a wonderful sight, for I reckon those are the two biggest animals in all the world."

"Let's go close and hear what they're talking about," said the rabbit.

"No, no," answered the ground hog. "They might not like it, and if I'm going to be impolite I'd rather be impolite to animals that are more my own size."

However, the rabbit was determined to know what two such big beasts talked to each other about, so he stole up close to them unnoticed, and hid back of a clump of grass to listen.

"Of all the beasts that walk the earth not one is as great as I am," boasted the elephant. "The ground trembles at my tread; the trees shake and the other animals are afraid and hide lest I should be angry with them."

"True, brother," answered the whale. "On the other hand, there is not a fish in the sea that compares to me in size. I swallow hundreds at one gulp, and when I lash the waters with my tail it is like a storm."

"And that is true, too," answered the elephant. "Brother, how would it be if we proclaimed ourselves kings of the earth and sea, and made all of the other fish and animals our subjects?"

"That would be a fine scheme," the whale agreed, "and then we would make them pay us tribute."

The elephant was pleased with that idea, too. "Good! good!" he trumpeted. "That is what we will do."

So the two beasts talked together, each one praising himself and the other, and saying how great they were.

The rabbit listened until he could bear it no longer, and then he stole back to the ground hog, his whiskers trembling with rage.

"Well, what were they talking about?" asked the ground hog.

"All their talk was of how great and powerful they were," answered the rabbit, "and they say they will declare themselves kings and make us pay tribute. But I will show them a thing or two before that."

"What will you show them?" asked the other.

"I have thought of a trick to play upon them, and it is a trick that will make them feel so silly they will forget all about making kings of themselves."

The ground hog begged and entreated the rabbit not to think of such a thing. The whale and the elephant were too big and powerful for a little rabbit to try to play a trick upon them, and if he did, they would surely punish him. But the rabbit would not listen to him, and at last the ground hog rose and buttoned up his overcoat. "Well, I'm not going to get _myself_ into trouble," he said. "I'm going home, I am, to look through the closets and get some tribute ready for them." So home he ambled, and did not mind one bit when the rabbit called after him that he was a coward.

But the rabbit made haste to the house of a neighbor to borrow a coil of rope he knew of, for that was the first thing he needed for his trick.

He got the rope and came back and hid in some bushes by the roadside. Presently he saw the elephant come swinging up the road. He had finished his talk with the whale and was now on his way home. He looked very pleased with himself, and was smiling and idly breaking off the little trees with his trunk as he came.

The rabbit sprang out of the bushes with the coil of rope over his arm, and ran toward the elephant, shouting at the top of his lungs, "Help, help!"

The elephant stopped and looked at him with surprise. "What is the matter, Rabbit?" he asked.

"My cow! My cow has fallen into the quicksands down by the sea, and no one can get her out. Oh, dear good kind Master Elephant, if you would but help me! You are so great and strong and wonderful that it would be nothing at all for you to pull her out."

The elephant was very much pleased with these compliments to his strength. "Yes, I will help you," he said good-naturedly. "I am indeed very great and powerful. Come! Show me where she is."

"No need of that," answered the sly rabbit. "Do you stand here and hold this end of the rope, and I will run and tie the other end around her horns. When all is ready I will beat a drum. As soon as you hear that begin to pull and you will have her out in a twinkling."

The elephant agreed to do this; he took hold of the end of the rope and stood there, waiting and thinking how strong he was, and how the animals were obliged to come to him when they needed help.

Meanwhile the rabbit ran down to the seashore with the other end of the rope. The whale was still there resting on the sand-bar, and thinking how great and powerful _he_ was.

"Help! help!" cried the rabbit as soon as he was near enough for the whale to hear him.

The great creature turned, and looked at him lazily. "What is the matter, Rabbit?" he asked.

"Oh, dear good Master Whale, I am in great trouble. My cow is stuck in a marsh and no one on land is powerful enough to pull her out. But you are so strong and wonderful that it would mean nothing to you to get her out for me."

The whale was pleased at these words, but he said, "I am quite willing to help you, but I do not see how I can do so. I cannot leave the sea nor travel on dry land."

"No need of that," answered the rabbit. "I have tied the other end of this rope around her horns. If you will but take hold of this end you can pull her out in a twinkling."

The good-natured whale was very ready to do this. "I must not pull too hard," he said, "for so great is my strength that I might not only jerk her out of the marsh but all the way into the sea so that she would be drowned."

"Yes, you must be careful about that," answered the rabbit, and then he ran up into the bushes where he had hidden a drum and beat it loudly.

As soon as the elephant heard the drum he began to pull on the rope. At first he did not pull hard, for he thought it was an easy task he had on hand. But the whale, holding the other end, started to swim out to sea, and the elephant found himself pulled down toward the shore. He was very much surprised, but he tightened his hold and began to use his strength.

And now it was the turn of the whale to be dragged toward the shore. "This will never do," he thought to himself, and he beat the waters, and swam with all his might, and the elephant began to lose ground.

So the two creatures strove together. First one was dragged along and then the other. They thought they had never known of such a strong cow before. But the rabbit up in the bushes laughed and laughed until he thought his sides would split. He rolled upon the ground and the tears ran down his furry cheeks, and still, the more the huge beasts strove and grunted, the harder he laughed.

At last the great elephant put forth all his strength. He dug his feet into the solid ground and braced himself. The whale in the sea had nothing to brace itself against, and so at last it was pulled up on the shore. Then the elephant turned to see what sort of a cow it was that weighed so much, and there it was no cow at all, but his friend, the whale, who lay there gasping and panting on the beach.

The elephant ran down to him, and the first thing he did was to push the whale back into the water again. Then they began to talk and explain to each other how it all happened. When they found what a trick the rabbit put upon them they were furiously angry, and consulted as to how they could best punish him.

"I," said the whale, "shall send word to all the fish in streams and rivers, and tell them he must not be allowed to drink one drop of water."

"And I," said the elephant, "will send word to all the creatures on the earth that he shall not be allowed to eat so much as one blade of grass."

And now the rabbit was in a bad way, indeed. If he went to the river to get a drink the fish and lobsters gathered in a crowd and drove him away. If he tried to eat, some animal or other was there to prevent him. It seemed as though he must soon die of hunger and thirst. His trick was like to cost him dear.

He was hopping along a path very sadly one day, with his ears drooping and all the spirit gone out of him, when he came across a dead deer that had been torn by the dogs. The rabbit stopped and scratched his ear and thought a bit. Then he set to work and very neatly stripped off the deerskin and drew it over his own body. Then he set out for the main road, limping and uttering cries of pain as he went.

Presently whom should he see but the elephant swinging along the road toward him.

The rabbit cried out still louder, and made out as though he could scarcely drag himself along for his wounds.

"What has happened to you, friend Deer? And who has wounded you in this way?" asked the elephant.

"Oh, that Rabbit! That Rabbit! And I was only doing as you told me."

"The Rabbit?"

"Yes; oh, indeed good Master Elephant, he is very terrible. He came to eat in the woods where I was and I tried to drive him away, because you had told us all to do that, but as soon as I spoke to him, he threw me down and beat me and almost tore me to pieces, as you see."

"That is strange," said the elephant. "I did not know he was as strong as that."

"Oh, yes; he is small, but he knows much magic. No one could stand against him, not even you. And he is very angry. He says he is going to tear you to pieces too, and the whale, and he only left me alive so that I might come and tell you."

"But he could not kill _me_!" cried the elephant.

"His magic is very strong. I am afraid, now that he is angry, that he will kill all the animals in the world, and keep it for himself."

Now the elephant really began to be afraid. "Oh, well, it was only a joke that the whale and I played on him. Go back and tell him so. Tell him it was only a joke, and that I am not angry with him now. Then tell him he may eat wherever he pleases, for I would not want to annoy such a little animal as he is."

So the rabbit, still speaking like the deer, said he would, and, moaning and limping, he turned and crawled back the way he had come. But when he was safely out of sight, he fell down in the dust of the road and laughed and laughed till he was sick with laughing.

CHERRY

(_From the English_)

THERE was once a poor laborer who had so many children that he was hardly able to buy food and clothing for them. For this reason, as soon as they grew old enough, they went out into the world to shift for themselves. One after another they left their home, until at last only the youngest one, Cherry by name, was left. She was the prettiest of all the children. Her hair was as black as jet, her cheeks as red as roses, and her eyes so merry and sparkling that it made one smile even to look at her.

Every few weeks one or another of the children who were out at service came back to visit their parents, and they looked so much better fed, and so much better clothed than they ever had looked while they were at home that Cherry began to long to go out in the world to seek her fortune, too.

"Just see," she said to her mother; "all my sisters have new dresses and bright ribbons, while I have nothing but the old patched frocks they have outgrown. Let me go out to service to earn something for myself."

"No, no," answered her mother. "You are our youngest, and your father would never be willing to have you go, and you would find it very different out there in the world from here, where everyone loves you and cares for you."

However, Cherry's heart was set upon going out to seek her fortune, and when she found her parents would never give their consent, she determined to go without it. She tied up the few clothes she had in a big handkerchief, put on the shoes that had in them the fewest holes, and off she stole one fine morning without saying good-by to anyone but the old cat that was asleep upon the step.

As long as she was within sight of the house she hurried as fast as she could, for she was afraid her father or mother might see her and call her back, but when the road dipped down over a hill she walked more slowly, and took time to catch her breath and shift her bundle from one hand to the other.

At first the way she followed was well known to her, but after she had traveled on for several hours she found herself in a part of the country she had never seen before. It was bleak and desolate with great rocks, and not a house in sight, and Cherry began to feel very lonely. She longed to see her dear home again, with the smoke rising from the chimney and her mother's face at the window, and at last she grew so homesick that she sat down on a rock and began to sob aloud.

She had been sitting there and weeping for some time when she felt a hand upon her shoulder. She looked up and saw a tall and handsome gentleman standing beside her. He was richly dressed and looked like a foreigner, and there were many rings upon his fingers. It seemed so strange to see him standing there close to her, when a little time before there had been no one in sight, that Cherry forgot to sob while she stared at him. He was smiling at her in a friendly way, and his eyes sparkled and twinkled so brightly that there never was anything like it.

"What are you doing in such a lonely place as this, my child?" said he. "And why are you weeping so bitterly?"

"I am here because I started out to take service with someone," answered Cherry; "and I am weeping because it is so lonely, and I wish I were at home again;" and she began to sob.

"Listen, Cherry," said the gentleman, once more laying his hand on her shoulder. "I am looking for a kind, bright girl to take charge of my little boy. The wages are good, and if you like, you shall come with me and be his nurse."

This seemed a great piece of good luck to Cherry, for she was sure from the gentleman's looks that he must be very rich as well as kind. She quickly wiped her eyes and told him she was more than willing to go with him.

As soon as the stranger heard this he smiled again, and bidding her follow him he turned aside into a little path among the rocks that Cherry had not noticed before. At first this path was both rough and thorny, but the further they went the broader and smoother it grew, and always it led down hill. After a while instead of thorns, flowering bushes bordered the path, and later still, trees loaded with such fruit as Cherry had never seen before. It shone like jewels, and smelled so delicious that she longed to stop and taste it, but that her master would not allow. There was no sunlight now, but neither were any clouds to be seen overhead. A soft, pale light shone over everything, making the landscape seem like something seen in a dream.

The gentleman hurried her along, and when he saw she was growing tired he took her hand in his and immediately all her weariness disappeared, and her feet felt so light it seemed as though she could run to the ends of the earth.

After they had gone a long, long way they came to a gate overhung with an arch of flowering vines. The garden within was filled with fruit trees even more wonderful than those along the road, and through them she could see a beautiful house that shone like silver.

The gentleman opened the gate, and immediately a little boy came running down the path toward them. The child was very small, but his face looked so strange and wise and old that Cherry was almost afraid of him.

The gentleman stooped and kissed him and said, "This is my son," and then they all three went up the path together.

When they came near the house the door opened and a little, strange looking old woman looked out. She was gnarled and withered and gray, and looked as though she might be a hundred.

"Aunt Prudence, this is the nurse I have brought home to look after the boy for us," said the gentleman.

The old woman scowled, and her eyes seemed to bore into Cherry like gimlets. "She'll peep and pry, and see what shouldn't be seen. Why couldn't you have been satisfied with one like ourselves for a nurse?" grumbled the old woman.

"It's best as it is," answered the gentleman in a low voice. "Many a one has sent her child to rest in a cradle there above, and they've been all the better for it."

Cherry did not know what he was talking about, but if she had been afraid of the child she was even more afraid of the old woman.

And indeed in the next few days Aunt Prudence made the girl's life very unhappy. The gentleman gave Cherry full charge of the child, and seemed very contented with her, but the old woman grumbled and scolded, and found fault with everything she did.

It was Cherry's duty to bathe the child every morning, and after she had washed him she was obliged to anoint his eyes with a certain ointment that was kept in a silver box. "And be very careful," said her master, sternly, "that you never touch the least particle of it to your own eyes, for if you do, misfortune will certainly come upon you."

Cherry promised that she would not, but she felt very curious about this ointment. She was sure it must have some very wonderful properties, for always after she had rubbed the child's eyes with it they looked stranger and brighter than ever, and she was sure he saw things that she could not see. Sometimes he would seem to join in games invisible to her, and sometimes he would suddenly leave her and run down a path to meet someone, though as far as she could see not a living soul was there. But if Cherry asked him any questions he would become quite silent, and look at her sideways in a strange way.

There were doors in the house that Cherry was forbidden to open, and she used to wonder and wonder what was behind them. Once she saw her master come out from one of the rooms beyond, but he shut the door quickly behind him, and she caught no glimpse of what was within.

However, she was very comfortable there--well-fed, well-clothed and well-paid, and she would have been quite happy if it had not been for Aunt Prudence. Instead of growing kinder to her as time went on, the old woman grew crosser and crosser. She was always scolding, and her tongue was so sharp that she often made Cherry weep bitterly, and wish she was at home again, or any place but there. Once when she was sobbing to herself in the garden, her master came to her. "Cherry," he said, "I see that you and Aunt Prudence can never live in peace together, and I am going to send her away for a while, but if I do, you must promise to do nothing that might displease me."

Cherry promised, and after that the old woman disappeared, and the girl did not know what had become of her.

Cherry was now very happy. Her master was never cross with her, and the child was very obedient, and if he did not ever laugh, neither did he ever weep. She helped her master in the garden very often, and when she had done very well he would sometimes kiss her and call her a good child and then she was happier than ever.