CHAPTER IX

THE HUT IN THE FOREST

Now that he was safe and away from the Lions, David looked about for the Blue Bird. He looked and looked in vain.

“Must I lose you again?” he said to himself. “Well, I will not forget you again, my Blue Bird! I will keep you in my memory. And sometime, somewhere, I know that I shall hear your song again. But I cannot delay longer now: I must push on, for I am bound to find and capture the Pale-Coloured Wingèd Horse.”

He had gone some distance through the forest when he met an old, old wood-cutter carrying a bundle of wood upon his back.

“What do you here, my son?” questioned the old man the minute he caught sight of David. “What are you seeking, pray?”

“Why think that I am seeking anything, Father?” asked David, smiling.

“You must be,” replied the old man, “or else you could not be here. This is the Land of the Seeker, you know, and all who are here have some definite purpose. What is yours? I should like to know, for you are an earnest, interesting looking lad, and your quest must be well worth while.”

“I am seeking the Pale-Coloured Wingèd Horse,” said David.

“Indeed!” answered the old man. There was a note of real surprise in his voice. “_Indeed!_ And do you know where to find it?”

“No,” David answered earnestly, “but I mean to find it. I am going to seek and inquire and question till I get some clew to the creature’s whereabouts; for it is that, and that alone, which I seek. Can you tell me something about the wonderful Horse? Perhaps you have seen it, or perhaps you can tell me where it is apt to roam?”

“You have come to just the right person,” said the old man, resting his weight upon the great bundle of sticks, which he had lowered to the ground beside him. “I can tell you much about the Pale-Coloured Horse, for I know the crystal spring where he comes to drink every third night, and the great green meadow where he comes to feed when the spring nights grow warm and the tender grass begins to send forth its delicate stalks.”

“Tell me, tell me!” cried David eagerly. “Direct me to the path that leads to the spring and to the meadow.”

“Why are you so anxious to capture the Wingèd Horse?”

“Because I must save Ruth! She is held a prisoner in the Bronze King’s Palace. There is no telling what may happen to her! I am no powerful prince with an army of foot-soldiers and horsemen, else I would invade the Bronze King’s country with a mighty host. I am a poor wood-cutter’s son. If I can capture this wonderful Horse, I can save Ruth. It is the only means I have, so you see I _must_ capture him!”

“How will the Wingèd Horse help you?”

“How?” repeated David. “I can sit upon its back, tame and subdue it, so that it will know me for its master; then ride upon it to the Palace and fly down into the Garden where Ruth is permitted to walk--the royal Garden surrounded by the high red wall with the iron pickets on the top. There Ruth can spring upon the Horse beside me, and the splendid creature can carry us up into the air, up, away, safe from the Bronze King, his terrible Palace, and his great chained Lions.”

“Has he Lions, too?” asked the wood-cutter.

“Yes,” said David, “a dozen of them, chained outside the Palace.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I have seen them and walked through their midst.”

“Walked through their midst! What do you mean?”

So David told him of his adventure with the Lions; of how he had followed the little winding path and had seen that the fierce creatures were chained and unable to reach him, so long as he walked wisely and fearlessly.

“Well, well, well!” said the old man. “You certainly are a brave lad, David! You deserve help, indeed, and I stand ready to help you. Come with me.”

David followed wherever the old man led till they came to a tiny log cabin. Here his guide pushed open the door and stepped back, waiting for David to enter first. The interior of the cottage was modestly furnished, but it seemed very homelike and comfortable.

“We will have supper together, and you shall spend the night here with me; in the meantime I can tell you how best to capture the Wingèd Horse.”

So David remained with the kind old man and listened eagerly to all he had to say.

“How did you happen to come here, anyway, David? It must be a long way from your home?”

“Yes,” said David thoughtfully, “it is. But, you see, I had to follow the Blue Bird,

and he led me here. First to the tree with the little door; then to the Cobbler’s cottage where I met Ruth; then through the forest to the Mansion of Happiness (I stayed too long a time there--I seemed to forget); then on till I came to the Bronze King’s Palace and saw Ruth again.” Here he related to his new-found friend how he had seen Ruth, sent a message to her, and received a message from her; then how he had started on his way again. “But tell me more about the Wingèd Horse,” he added hastily.

The old wood-cutter rose from his chair and crossed the room. Kneeling beside a low oak chest mounted with silver trimmings, he took a rusty key that hung on a chain about his neck and fitted it into the worn keyhole. David could hear the old lock scrape as the key turned. Then the old man lifted the heavy lid. David sprang forward to help him, for the solid wood and silver made it very heavy. After seeking among its contents for a few minutes the old man nodded his head with satisfaction. What he lifted out was a beautiful silver bridle, set with blue and amber-coloured stones. The bit was a bar of pure yellow gold--the only gold about it--and the reins were of silken thread interwoven with silver.

“David,” said the old man, “I will lend you this. It contains a wonderful power. It is the only bridle with which the Pale-Coloured Horse can be captured. The moment one slips the golden bit between his teeth, that moment the beautiful great powerful Horse is tamed, and he who fits the bit to his mouth becomes his master. Take the bridle, David, and wait patiently at the spring, to which the Horse will surely come to drink. Seize him fearlessly by the forelock and slip this over his head and the bit into his mouth. He will obey you then, and carry you wheresoever you may wish. When the creature has served your need, tell him to return to my cottage and to me. I will take the bridle from him, and then the Pale-Coloured Horse will be free once more.”

“Who are you?” asked David. “To whom shall I tell the Horse to return? What is your name?”

“Men call me Wisdom’s Brother,” answered the old man. “Tell the Wingèd Horse to return to me; he will understand and obey you. I will direct you to the spring--for the Blue Bird cannot lead you now. I will start you on the trail at sunrise to-morrow.”

“Why can the Blue Bird not guide me?” asked David.

“Do you know for what the Blue Bird stands?”

David thought for a moment. Then the word “happiness” came into his mind. He spoke it softly.

“Exactly!” said the old man. “Happiness born of Truth; that is, the Happiness contained in the Love of Truth. For a Bird is but a symbol of thought; and Happiness is an expression of thought; the colour represents its quality. You have left the region of the Blue Bird for a while, for it cannot journey a great way from the Mansion of Happiness. You are about to enter another country. At the end of your journey you will find the Blue Bird again--yes, you will hear it singing.”