Chapter 3

In the fall, the king called the bravest swan maidens to him. He told them they must go away for a long time.

The swan maidens wrapped themselves in white, feathery blankets and came softly down to the shivering flowers.

Gently they placed a white spread on the earth and left no small seed uncovered.

At last, when the king smiled and their work was done, they stole away so softly and happily that no one missed them.

THE POPLAR TREE.

One night, just at sunset, an old man found the pot of gold which lies under the end of the rainbow.

His home was far beyond the dark forest, through which he was passing.

The pot of gold was heavy, and he soon began to look for a safe place in which to hide it until morning.

A poplar tree stood near the path stretching its branches straight out from the trunk.

That was the way the poplar trees grew in those days.

"Ah," said the man, "This tree is the very place in which to conceal my treasure.

"The trees are all asleep, I see, and these leaves are large and thick."

He carefully placed the pot of gold in the tree, and hurried home to tell of his good fortune.

Very early the next morning, Iris, the rainbow messenger, missed the precious pot of gold.

She hastened to Zeus and told him of the loss.

Zeus immediately sent Hermes in search of it.

Hermes soon came to the forest where it was hidden.

He awakened the trees, and asked them if they had seen the pot of gold.

They shook their heads sleepily, and murmured something which Hermes could not understand.

Then Zeus himself spoke to them. "Hold your arms high above your heads," he said, "that I may see that all are awake."

Up went the arms, but alas, down to the ground came the pot of gold.

The poplar tree was more surprised than any one else.

He was a very honest tree and for a moment hung his head in grief and shame. Then again he stretched his arms high above his head, and said, "Forgive me, great father; hereafter I shall stand in this way that you may know that I hide nothing from the sun, my king."

At first the poplar tree was much laughed at.

He was often told that he looked like a great umbrella which a storm had turned inside out.

But as years went by every small poplar was taught to grow as fearless, straight and open hearted as himself, and the whole poplar family became respected and loved for its uprightness and strength.

THE DONKEY AND THE SALT.

One time a merchant went to the seashore for a load of salt.

There were many hills and streams to cross on the journey.

As the path was narrow and rocky, the man made his donkey carry the salt in large bags upon his back. It was a warm day, and the donkey did not like his heavy load.

He hung down his head and went as slowly as he could.

After a while they came to a stream which had only a foot bridge over it.

The donkey went through the water, splash! splash! splash! In the middle of the stream was a large stone which he did not see.

He stumbled and fell, and the water ran over the bags of salt.

Soon the donkey was glad that he had fallen, for he found his load much lighter.

They came to another stream, but the donkey did not stumble this time. He lay down in the middle of the brook.

He was a wise donkey.

This time he lost so much salt that his master was angry, for he was obliged to go back to the seashore for another load.

As they were walking along, the merchant laughed to himself.

He thought he knew a way to cure the donkey of this trick.

When they came to the seashore, he filled the bags with sponges, and started for home.

The donkey thought, "What a light load I have," and trotted gaily along over the rough road.

Again they came to the brook. "Ah!" thought the donkey, "I will make my load still lighter."

He lay down in the middle of the brook.

This time he found his load so heavy that he could scarcely rise.

His master kindly helped him, but the donkey was not happy.

The water ran down his sides and made him more miserable.

"Oh," thought he, "I will never lie down in the water again."

Once more his master led him back to the seashore.

He filled the bags with salt.

The donkey was wiser now and carried the salt safely home.

THE SECRET OF FIRE.

A TREE STORY.

One summer night a great army of pine trees settled down in a quiet valley to rest. They were a tall, dark, grave-looking company.

They held their heads high in the air, for they were the only trees in the world who knew the wonderful secret of fire.

High above this valley, on the hillside, lived a little company of oaks.

They were young, brave, and strong-hearted.

When they saw the great band of pines marching into the valley, the tallest one said:

"Let us make them divide the gift of fire with us."

"No," said the oldest, wisest oak, "we must not risk, foolishly, the lives of our acorns. We could do nothing against so many."

All the acorns had been listening to what the tree said. Each one longed to help in finding out the great secret.

One of them became so excited that he fell from the limb, down upon the hard ground. He did not stop at the foot of the tree, but rolled over and over, far down into the valley.

Here a brook picked him up and hurried him away; but as he stopped to rest by a stone, he heard his good friend, the wind, talking to a pine tree.

"What is the secret of fire which the pine trees know?" asked the wind. "Don't you think it is selfish to keep it all to yourselves?"

The pine tree loved the wind and answered:

"Great wind, it is, indeed, a wonderful secret; you must never tell it." Then she whispered it to the wind.

The little acorn went on and on down the stream.

He came to an old log, which was the home of a large family of squirrels. The mother squirrel was very sad. The last flood had brought her and her children far away from her old forest home. Her family had all been saved, but food was scarce and winter was near.

The acorn felt very sorry for her and said:

"I am too small to do you much good alone. If you will carry me back to my home, I will show you a forest with plenty of nuts. You can take your family there in the fall."

This the squirrel was very glad to do.

As they went along the acorn called to all the elms, maples, willows and hickories to meet that night on the hilltop.

"Come to the hill across from the great blue mountains," he said. "There you will learn the secret of fire."

By evening they were all there, in great companies, ready for war on the pines.

When the squirrel came to the forest and saw all the nuts she was much pleased.

She offered to carry the acorn to the very top of the tallest tree. The trees were all glad of this, for every one wanted to hear what he said.

When the acorn began to speak, even the wind stopped whispering and listened.

"Friends," he said, "there must be no battle. The pine trees have only the same gift of fire that you have. To every tree that stretches out its arms the glorious sun gives this gift. But it was in this way that the pine trees learned the secret of getting the fire from the wood: They saw an old Indian chief with two curious pieces of wood. One was round and smooth, the other was sharp-pointed. With all his strength he was rubbing them together. Soon he had worn a groove in the round stick. He rubbed faster and faster, and there in the groove was a tiny spark of fire. Then the Indian blew his breath upon the spark and a little yellow flame leaped up. All the pine trees saw it. 'See, it is fire!' they said."

When the great company of trees had heard the acorn's story they shook their heads in doubt. Then the acorn said:

"This is the true secret of fire. If you do not believe it why do you not try it for yourselves."

They took this advice and all the trees learned that what he had said was true.

They were so happy that they spent the whole night in singing and dancing.

In the morning, when they saw the great blue mountains and the beautiful valley, many of them settled down upon the hillside for life.

The pines looked up and saw hundreds of trees with their shining arms. They were so frightened that they climbed high up on the mountain side. There they stayed a long, long time.

They grew sad and lonely, and often sighed and wished for their old home and comforts. But they were brave and strong-hearted, and helped each other.

At last, some of them came down into the valley again. Through suffering they had grown strong and unselfish. They gave their best trees to the people and their fairest to the children at Christmas time.

Indeed, there is not a tree in the world to-day more loved than the pine tree, who first had the secret of fire.

A FAIRY STORY.

Some fairies once lived in a dark glen in a pine forest.

They were real fairies, many of them not higher than a pin.

Their greatest treasure was a magic cap which had been in the fairy family for many generations.

The most wonderful thing about the cap was that it fitted exactly any one who wore it.

When one fairy put it on, he and all the others became invisible.

A stupid race of giants lived among the mountains near them. They wanted the fairy cap more than anything else in the world.

One warm day when the elves were away from home, a giant came into the glen. He was seeking just such a cool place for his afternoon nap.

He was so large and the glen so small that when he lay down he almost filled the valley.

The music of a fairy brook soon lulled him to sleep.

Perhaps you have heard how a giant snores, and how his breath comes in great puffs.

The giant was snoring and puffing when the fairies came towards home.

They heard the strange sound and thought a great storm was brewing.

"There has never been such a wind in the glen," said the fairy queen.

"We will not go down into it. We must seek shelter for to-night on this hillside."

Just then they came to the giant's ear.

"Here is a fine cavern," the queen said, and she stopped and waved her wand.

A fairy hastened forward to carry the cap to a safe place in the cave, for that was always their first care.

Just then the giant awoke.

He raised his great head.

Oh, how miserable the fairies were!

They wept and moaned until even the dull ear of the giant heard them.

It was a sound like the tolling of tiny silver bells.

He listened and understood what the wee voice of the prisoner in his ear was saying.

He was the wisest and most kind-hearted of all the giants.

He helped the little creature gently out into his hand, and looked at him in wonder.

He had never before seen a fairy.

In vain the brave little fellow tried to conceal the precious cap.

The giant saw the wonderful star and knew at once that he had the treasure cap of the elves.

He set the fairy carefully upon the ground, and shouted for joy as he found that the cap exactly fitted his own great head.

The poor fairies could no longer see him, but they heard a sound like thunder, as he hurried over the stones towards his home.

They were now afraid to move about while the sun shone.

They crept under leaves and into shells and cried bitterly.

By sundown every plant in the glen was wet with their tears.

The sharp eyes of the eagle on the mountain top saw them and a great pity filled his heart.

"I must help the fairies," he said, "otherwise I should not be worthy to be called the 'king of birds'."

He went directly to the home of the giants and demanded the cap, but they refused to give it up.

All that an eagle could do, he did, but as the giants wore the invisible cap he could not see them. He could only hear their great voices.

He knew however that the giants were proud of their great size and strength, and liked, above all things, to be seen.

He was sure that they would not wear the cap in battle, and he did not lose hope.

One day they carefully placed it under a large stone on the mountain side below them.

The keen eye of the eagle was watching.

He flew fearlessly to the spot as soon as the giants had left it.

He lifted the stone in his great talons, and was soon flying away with the cap to the fairy glen.

The giants saw him, and knew at once what he was doing.

They began a fierce attack upon him.

The air was filled with flying arrows and sharp rocks. Drops of blood fell on the mountain side, and many feathers fluttered down, but the brave eagle was soon out of their reach.

He did not stop until the cap was safe in the fairy queen's lap.

There was great rejoicing among the fairies that day.

They had a feast in the eagle's honor, and healed his wounds with fairy magic.

On the mountain side, wherever the blood and feathers fell, there sprang up trees with featherlike leaves and blood-red berries.

All the giants, fairies, plants and animals knew why they grew.

The unselfish love in the eagle's blood could not die, but lived again in the beautiful trees.

But people who did not know how they came there, called them mountain ash trees.

PHILEMON AND BAUCIS.

On a high hill in Greece, long ago, lived Philemon and Baucis. They had always been poor but never unhappy.

At the time of this story the people in the valley below them were very busy.

Zeus, their king, had sent word that he was about to visit them.

Hermes, his messenger, was to come with him.

The people were getting ready great feasts, and making everything beautiful for their coming. For miles out of the city, men were watching for the golden chariot and white horses of the king.

One night, just at dark, two beggars came into the valley.

They stopped at every house and asked for food and a place to sleep.

But the people were too busy or too tired to attend to their needs.

Footsore and weary, at last they climbed the hill to the hut of Philemon and Baucis.

These good people had eaten scarcely anything for several days that they might have food to offer the king.

When they saw the strangers, Philemon said, "Surely these men need food more than the king."

Baucis spread her one white table cloth upon the table.

She brought out bacon and herbs, wild honey and milk.

She set these before the strangers with all the good dishes that she had.

Then a wonderful thing happened.

The dishes which the strangers touched turned to gold.

The milk in the pitcher became rich nectar.

Philemon and Baucis dropped upon their knees.

They knew that their guests could be no other than Zeus and Hermes.

Zeus raised his hand and said, "Arise, good people, ask what you will and it shall be yours."

Philemon and Baucis cried in one voice:

"Grant, oh Zeus, that one of us may not outlive the other, but that both may die in the same instant."

This had long been the wish in each heart, and the fear of being left alone in the world was the one trouble of their old age.

Zeus smiled and changed their rude hut into a beautiful castle, and granted them many years of happy life.

One morning the people in the valley noticed that the castle had disappeared.

They hurried to the spot and found growing in its place two beautiful trees, an oak and a linden.

No trace of the good couple could be found.

Many years after, however, a traveller lying under the trees heard them whispering to each other.

He lay very still and soon learned that in them Philemon and Baucis still lived, happy and contented, and protected by Zeus from all harm.

DAPHNE.

Daphne was the daughter of the River Peneus.

She was a beautiful child and her father loved her more than anything else in the world.

Her home was in a cave which he had cut for her in a great white cliff.

The walls of the cave were of marble.

From the roof hung crystal chandeliers which Peneus' servants had made.

On the floor was a soft green carpet woven by the water fairies.

Peneus brought his most beautiful pebbles to Daphne's cave every night.

He sang songs to her in the evenings and told her stories of his travels.

She visited with him the great island which he was building in the sea.

When the morning star shone in the sky it was Daphne who awakened the birds and flowers.

With her golden hair flying behind her, she sped into the forest. Everything awoke when they felt the touch of her rosy fingers, and smiled as they saw her happy face.

The trees and the forest animals were her playfellows, and she had no wish for other friends.

She learned their ways, and the deer could not run more swiftly than she, nor the birds sing more sweetly.

One day as she was running over the stones near the cave, King Apollo saw her.

"Ah, little maid," said he, "You are very beautiful. Your feet are too tender for the hard rocky earth.

"Come, you shall live with me in my palace in the sky."

But Daphne fled from him.

She did not want to leave her beautiful earth home.

Fear gave her wings, and faster and faster she flew.

Her hair streamed behind her like a cloud of golden light.

Apollo followed more swiftly than the wind.

"Stop and listen," he cried; "I am not a foe, foolish girl. It is Apollo who follows you. I shall carry you to a home more beautiful than anything you have ever seen."

She felt his breath upon her hair, and saw his hand as he stretched it forth to seize her.

"Father, save me from Apollo," she cried. "Let the earth enclose me."

Peneus heard her voice and instantly her feet became fastened in the soil like roots. A soft bark covered her body and her beautiful hair became the leaves of the laurel tree.

Apollo sadly gathered some of the leaves and wove them into a wreath. He laid his hand upon the tree and said, "I would have made you happy, but you would not listen to me.

"At least you shall be my tree. Your leaves shall be ever green, and heroes shall be crowned with them in sign of victory."

AN INDIAN STORY OF THE MOLE.

An Indian once saw a squirrel sunning himself in a tree top.

The squirrel saw the hunter and leaped upon a passing cloud.

He had escaped into Cloudland before an arrow could reach him.

The Indian set a trap for him hoping that he would soon return to the tree for food.

The sun happened to be coming that way and was caught in the trap.

Suddenly, in the middle of the day, it became dark.

The Indian was frightened and said, "Ah me, what have I done, I have surely caught the sun in my trap."

He sent many animals up to set it free, but all were instantly burned to ashes.

At last the mole said, "Let me try, I shall bore through the ground of the sky and gnaw off the cords which hold the trap."

He did this, but just as he loosened the last cord the sun sprang forth and the bright light shone full in his eyes.

The poor mole dropped to the earth and though his friends were able to save his life, he was blind.

"You need not pity me," he said, "I prefer to live underground, where really there is no use for eyes."

All the moles were so proud of this hero mole that they tried to be like him in every way.

They, too, went to live in a dark hole in the earth.

Their eyes, which they did not need to use, became so small that they were entirely hidden by their fur. Indeed it is now so hard to find them that many people think the entire mole family is blind.

HOW THE SPARK OF FIRE WAS SAVED.

Long ago when fire was first brought to earth, it was given into the care of two beldams at the end of the world.

The Cahroc Indians knew where it was hidden. They needed fire and were always planning ways to get it.

They went at last to the wise coyote.

"That is simple enough," said he, "I will show you a way to get it. Fire is a great blessing and should be free to all people."

The coyote knew every inch of the road to the beldams' hut.

Along the path leading to it, he stationed beasts, the strongest and best runners nearer the hut and the weaker ones farther off.

Nearest the guarded den, he placed one of the sinewy Cahroc men.

Then he walked boldly up to the door of the hut and knocked.

The beldams, not fearing a coyote in the least, invited him in.

They were often lonely, living so near the end of the world.

When the coyote had rested before the fire for some time, he said, "The Cahroc nation need fire. Could you not give them one small spark? You would never miss it. Here it is of no use."

The beldams answered, "We do not love it, but we dare not give it away. We must guard it while we live."

The coyote had expected them to say this.

He sprang to the window, and instantly outside were heard such sounds, that the beldams rushed out to see what the frightful noise could be.

Each animal in the line was sounding the watch-word of fire in his own way.

The wild horse neighed, the mountain lion roared, the gray wolf howled, the serpent hissed, the buffalo bellowed, and every small animal did its part equally well.

Indeed, it is no wonder that the beldams were frightened nearly to death.

The Cahroc man brought water and told them not to fear for themselves.

The coyote seized a half-burned brand and was off in an instant.

The beldams sprang after him and followed him closely over hill and valley. Faster than the wind they flew.

They were stronger than he, and though he put all his wild-wood nerve to the strain, they steadily gained.

Soon the race must end!

But Puma, the monstrous cat, was watching, and leaped up just in time to save the brand.

Each animal was in its place and the good fire passed on.

It came at last to the Cahroc nation, and was afterwards free to all people under the sun.

There were only two mishaps in all the race.

As the squirrel turned a corner of stumps and bowlders, his beautiful tail caught fire, and a brown track was burned up over his back to his shoulders, and the curl has remained in his tail to this day.

The frog had a harder fate.

He was the last one in the line of beasts. When the brand reached him it was smaller than the smallest coal in the grate.

He seized it carefully and jumped forward as fast as he could, but the hand of the foremost beldam caught him and held him fast.

How his heart beat!

His eyeballs bulged out of his head, and he has looked ever since much in the same scared way.

He did not lose his courage, however. He swallowed the coal and sprang into the water.

Sad to tell, the beldam still held in her hand his special pride and care, his tail.

Henceforth only the tadpoles could wear tails.

The frog sought a log and sat down upon it to think.

"I did my duty, even if I lost my beauty," he thought; "that is enough for a frog. This spark must be saved."

After much choking he spat the swallowed spark well into the bark.

The gift came, in this way, to all men; for, in even the wettest weather, if you rub two sticks together, fire is sure to come.

Because we know how the frog hurt his throat that day, we like to listen to his hoarse voice when we hear him singing to his children in the spring.

BALDER.

The people in the North once believed that high above the clouds was the beautiful plain of Asgard.

Odin, ruler of Asgard, mighty Thor, and many other heroes lived on the plain.

Their homes were great castles, splendid with silver and gold.

In the middle of the plain, and apart from the other dwellings, stood a pure white palace.

Nothing that was not fair and good had ever dared to enter it.

It was the home of Balder.

Because of his great beauty and wisdom, he was called "Balder the beautiful," and "Balder the good."

Everything loved him.

The dull rocks and the gray old mountains met him with a smile.

The flowers opened, the birds sang and the water sparkled when they saw his face.

One night he dreamed that he must soon leave Asgard and all the things that he loved.

The next night he dreamed that he was living in the gloomy underground world.

The third night, when the same terrible dream came to him, he was greatly troubled.

He told Odin, his father, and Frigga, his mother, about it.

Odin, in great fear, called together his wisest heroes.