Chapter II: Part 2

Channa let go the weights and hid behind the door. Presently Time came flying in, and his mother repeated to him the maiden's questions.

In reply he said: "The oak tree will be honored as it was of yore when men find the treasure that is buried among its roots. The mice will never be safe from the cat unless they tie a bell to her neck to warn them when she is coming. The ants will live a hundred years if they will dispense with flying, for when an ant is going to die it puts on wings. The whale should make friends with the sea-mouse, who will serve as a guide so that the monster will never go astray. The doves will resume their former shape when they fly and alight on the column of riches."

So saying, Time went forth to run his accustomed race. Then Channa bade the old woman farewell and descended the mountain. She arrived at the foot just as the seven doves arrived there. Her long absence had made them anxious, and they had come to look for her. They alighted on the horn of a dead ox, and at once they changed to the handsome youths they had been formerly.

While they were marveling at this transformation Channa greeted them and told them what Time had said. Then they understood that the horn, as the symbol of plenty, was what he called the column of wealth.

Now they all started on the return journey, taking the same road by which Channa had come. When they arrived at the old oak and she informed the tree of what Time had said, the oak begged them to take away the treasure from its roots. So the seven brothers borrowed tools in a neighboring village and dug till they unearthed a great heap of gold money. This they divided into eight parts and shared it between themselves and their sister.

After according to the oak tree the honor it so much desired they again tramped along the homeward road, and when they became weary lay down to sleep under a hedge. Presently they were seen there by a band of robbers who tied them hand and foot, and carried off their money.

They bewailed the loss of their wealth which had so soon slipped through their fingers, and they were anxious lest they should perish of starvation or be devoured by wild beasts. As they were lamenting their unhappy lot the mouse whom Channa had met appeared. She told it what Time had said about getting rid of the tyranny of the cats, and the grateful mouse nibbled the cords with which they were bound till it set them free.

Somewhat farther on they encountered the ant which listened eagerly while Channa repeated Time's advice. Then it asked her why she was so pale and downcast.

So she related how the robbers had tricked them.

"Cheer up," the ant said. "Now I can requite the kindness you have done me. I know where those robbers hide their plunder. Follow me."

The ant guided them to a group of tumble-down houses and showed them a pit which the brothers entered. There they found the money which had been stolen from them, and off they went with it to the seashore. The whale came to speak with them, and was rejoiced to learn what Time had said.

While they were talking with the whale, they saw the robbers coming, armed to the teeth.

"Alas, alas!" they cried, "now we are lost."

"Fear not," the whale said. "I can save you. Get on my back and I will carry you to a place of safety."

Channa and her brothers climbed on the whale who carried them to within sight of Naples. There it left them on the shore and they returned to their old home safe and sound and rich. Thereafter they enjoyed a happy life, in accord with the old saying, "Do all the good you can and make no fuss about it."

XI--BLOCKHEAD HANS

Far away in the country was an old mansion in which dwelt a squire well along in years and his two sons. These sons thought themselves exceedingly clever. Indeed, they were convinced that had they known only half of what they did know, it would have been quite enough.

Both wanted to marry the king's daughter. She had proclaimed that she would have for her husband the man who knew best how to choose his words, and they were confident that one or the other of them was certain to win her.

Only a week was allowed to prepare for the wooing, but that was plenty long enough for the two brothers. One knew the whole Latin dictionary by heart. He also knew three years' issue of the daily paper of the town so he could repeat backward or forward as you pleased all that had appeared in it.

The other had studied the laws of corporation and thought he could speak with wisdom and authority on matters of state. Besides, he was very expert with his fingers and could embroider roses and other flowers or figures in a manner that gave his friends great pleasure.

The old father gave each of the sons a fine horse. He presented a black horse to the one who knew the dictionary and the daily paper by heart, and the other, who was so clever at corporation law, received a milk-white steed. Just before they started, the young men oiled the corners of their mouths that they might be able to speak more fluently.

The squire had a third son, but nobody thought him worth counting. He was not learned as his brothers were and was generally called "Blockhead Hans." While the servants stood in the courtyard watching the two clever youths mount their horses Hans chanced to appear.

"Well, well!" he said, "where are you off to? You are in your Sunday-best clothes."

"We are going to the royal court to woo the princess," they replied. "Haven't you heard what has been proclaimed throughout all the countryside?"

They told him about it, and Hans shouted, "Hurrah! I'll go too." The brothers laughed at him and rode off.

"Dear father," Blockhead Hans said, "I must have a horse. Perhaps I can win the princess. If she will have me, she will. If she won't have me, she won't."

"Stop that nonsense!" the old man ordered. "I will not give you a horse. You can't speak wisely. You don't know how to choose your words. But your brothers--ah! they are very different lads."

"All right," Hans said, "I have a goat. If you won't give me a horse, the goat will have to serve instead. He can carry me."

So he put a bridle on his goat, got on its back, dug his heels into its sides and went clattering down the road like a hurricane. Hoppitty hop! What a ride!

"Here I come!" Blockhead Hans shouted, and he sang so that the echoes were roused near and far.

Once he stopped and picked up a dead crow. Presently he overtook his brothers as they rode slowly along on their fine horses. They were not speaking, but were turning over in their minds all the clever things they intended to say, for everything had to be thought out.

"Hello!" Blockhead Hans bawled, "here I am. Just see what I found on the road." And he proudly held up the dead crow for them to look at.

"You foolish lad," his brothers said, "what are you going to do with it?"

"I shall give it to the princess," he answered.

"Do so, certainly!" they said, laughing loudly and riding on.

Blockhead Hans thought he would continue the journey in their company, but he saw an old wooden shoe by the roadside. Such a prize was not to be neglected, and he got off his goat and picked it up. Then he cantered along the highway till he came up behind his brothers.

"Slap, bang! here I am!" he shouted. "See what I have just found? Such things are not to be picked up every day on the road!"

The brothers turned round to learn what in the world he could have found.

"Simpleton!" they said, "that cracked old shoe is absolutely worthless. Are you going to take that to the princess?"

"Of course I shall," Blockhead Hans replied, and the brothers laughed and rode along.

But the lad on the goat soon brought them to a standstill by hopping off his goat and shouting: "Hurrah! Here's the best treasure of all!"

"What have you found now?" the brothers asked.

"Oh! something more for the princess," he said. "How pleased she will be!"

"Why, that is pure mud, straight from the ditch!" the brothers exclaimed.

"Of course it is!" Blockhead Hans responded. "There never was any better mud. See how it runs through my fingers."

So saying, he filled his coat pocket with it. The brothers did not enjoy these interruptions or his company, and they rode off with such speed that they were hidden in a cloud of dust raised by their horses' hoofs. They reached the gate of the royal city a good hour before Blockhead Hans did.

XII--THE RIVAL SUITORS

Each suitor for the hand of the princess was numbered as he arrived and had to wait his turn. They waited as patiently as they could, standing in line closely guarded to prevent the jealous rivals from getting into a fight with one another.

A crowd of people had gathered in the throne room at the palace to look on while the princess received her suitors, and as each suitor came in all the fine phrases he had prepared passed out of his mind. Then the princess would say: "It doesn't matter. Away with him!"

At last the brother who knew the dictionary by heart appeared, but he did not know it any longer. The floor creaked, and the ceiling was made of glass mirrors so that he saw himself standing on his head. At one of the windows were three reporters and an editor, and each of them was writing down what was said to publish it in the paper that was sold at the street corners for a penny. All this was fearful. You couldn't blame him for feeling nervous.

"It is very hot in here, isn't it?" was the only thing that the brother who knew the dictionary could think of to say.

"Of course it is," the princess responded. "We are roasting young chickens for dinner today."

The youth cleared his throat. "Ahem!" There he stood like an idiot. He was not prepared for such remarks from the princess. How nice it would be to make a witty response! But he could think of nothing appropriate, and all he did was to clear his throat again. "Ahem!"

"It doesn't matter," the princess said. "Take him out." And out he had to go.

Now the other brother entered. "How hot it is here!" he said.

The princess looked as if she thought him tiresome as she responded: "Of course. We are roasting young chickens today."

"Where do you--um?" the youth stammered, and the reporters wrote down, "Where do you--um?"

"It doesn't matter," the princess said. "Take him out."

After a while Blockhead Hans had his turn. He rode his goat right into the room and exclaimed, "Dear me, how awfully hot it is here!"

The princess looked at him and his goat with more interest than she showed in most of her suitors and said: "Of course! We are roasting young chickens today."

"That's good," Blockhead Hans commented; "and will you let me roast a crow with them?"

"Gladly," the princess responded; "but have you anything to roast it in? I have neither pot nor saucepan to spare."

"That's all right," Blockhead Hans told her. "Here is a dish that will serve my purpose." And he showed her the wooden shoe and laid the crow in it.

The princess laughed and said, "If you are going to prepare a dinner you ought at least to have some soup to go with your crow."

"Very true," he agreed, "and I have it in my pocket." Then he showed her the mud he was carrying.

"I like you," the princess declared. "You can answer when you are spoken to. You have something to say. So I will marry you. But do you know that every word we speak is being recorded and will be in the paper tomorrow. Over by the window not far from where we are you can see three reporters and an old editor. None of them understands much and the editor doesn't understand anything."

At these words the reporters giggled, and each dropped a blot of ink on the floor.

"Ah! those are great people," Blockhead Hans remarked. "I will give the editor something to write about."

Then he took a handful of mud from his pocket and threw it smack in the great man's face.

"That was neatly done!" the princess said--"much better, in fact, than I could have done it myself."

She and Blockhead Hans were married, and presently he became king and wore a crown and sat on the throne. At any rate so the newspaper said, but of course you can't believe all you see in the papers.

XIII--CUNNING TOM

Once there was a bad boy named Tom, and the older he grew, the wiser and slyer he thought himself. Many were the tricks he played until no one liked him or trusted him.

One day he asked his grandmother for some money. She had plenty, but she would not give him any. So that evening Tom went to the pasture and caught the old woman's black cow. He took the cow to a deserted house which stood at a distance from any other, and there he kept her two or three days, giving her food and water at night when nobody would see him going and coming.

Tom made his grandmother believe that some one had stolen the cow. This was a great grief to her. At last she told the lad to buy her another cow at a fair in a neighboring town, and she gave him three pounds with which to make the purchase.

He promised to get one as near like the other as possible and went off with the money. Then he took a piece of chalk, ground it into powder, steeped it in a little water and rubbed it in spots and patches over the head and body of the cow he had hidden.

Early the next morning he took her to an inn near the fair and spent the day in pleasure. Toward evening he drove the cow home before him, and as soon as he got to his grandmother's the cow began to bellow.

The old woman ran out rejoicing for she thought her own black cow had been found, but when she saw the spots and patches of white she sighed and exclaimed, "Alas, you'll never be the kindly brute my Black Lady was, though you bellow exactly like her."

"'Tis a mercy you know not what the cow says," Tom remarked to himself, "or all would be wrong with me."

The old woman put her cow to pasture the following morning, but there came on a heavy shower of rain, which washed away the chalk. So the old woman's Black Lady came home at night and the new cow went away with the shower and was never heard of afterward.

But Tom's father had some suspicions, and he looked closely at the cow's face and found some of the chalk still remaining. Then he gave Tom a hearty beating and turned him out of the house.

Tom traveled about from place to place, and by hook or by crook contrived to make a living till he reached the size and years of a man. He was always planning ways to get hold of other people's money, for he did not like to exert himself to earn what he needed.

Once he met a party of reapers seeking work. At once he hired the whole company of about thirty and agreed to give them a week's reaping at ten pence a day, which was two pence higher than any had gotten that year. This made the poor reapers think he was a very honest, generous, and genteel master.

Tom took them to an inn and gave them a hearty breakfast. "Now," he said, "there are so many of you together, it's quite possible that while most are honest men, some may be rogues. You will have to sleep nights together in a barn, and your best plan is to give what money you have to me to keep safe for you. I'll mark down each sum in a book opposite the name of the man whose it is, and you shall have it all when I pay you your wages."

"Oh! very well, there's my money, and there's mine, and here's mine," they said.

Some gave him five, six, seven, and eight shillings, all they had earned through the harvest. Tom now went with them out of the village to a field of standing grain, remote from any house, and set the men at work. Then he left, telling them he was going to order dinner for them, but in reality he set off at top speed to get as far away from them as possible, lest, when they found out his trick, they should follow and overtake him.

Soon the farmer to whom the grain belonged saw the reapers in his field and came to ask what they were about. "Stop!" he cried, "I have given you no orders to reap this grain, and besides it is not ripe."

At first they persisted in keeping on with the work, but finally the farmer convinced them that they had been fooled, and the reapers went away sorely lamenting their misfortune.

XIV--A MISER'S HIRED MAN

Tom escaped, but it was a rough life he led, and he was always in fear of punishment for his many misdeeds. At last he concluded he had had enough of depending on his wits for a livelihood and decided he would go to work.

So he hired himself to an old miser of a farmer with whom he continued several years. On the whole he made a good servant, and though he sometimes played tricks on those about him, it was his habit to make good any damage he did.

His master was a miser, as I have said, and he and his help ate supper with no other light than that of the fire, for he would not furnish candles. Tom did not like this, and one night he thrust his spoon into the middle of the soup dish where the soup was hottest and clapped a spoonful into his master's mouth.

"You rascal!" his master cried, "my mouth is all burned."

"Then why do you keep the house so dark?" Tom asked. "I can't half see, and what wonder is it if I missed the way to my own mouth and got the spoon in your mouth, instead?"

After that they always had a candle on the table at supper, for his master would feed no more in the dark while Tom was present.

One day a butcher came and bought a fine fat calf from Tom's master. He tied its legs, took it on the horse's back in front of him, and off he went.

"Master," Tom said, "what do you say to playing a joke on that fellow? With your leave I'll get that calf away from him before he has gone two miles, and he won't know what has become of it either."

"You can try," the master said, "but I don't believe you can do it."

So Tom went into the house, got a pretty shoe with a silver buckle to it that belonged to the servant maid and ran across a field till he got ahead of the butcher. He threw the shoe into the middle of the highway and hid behind a hedge. The butcher came riding along with the calf before him.

"Hey!" he said, "there's a fine lady's shoe. If it wasn't that this calf makes it a great trouble to get off and on I'd alight and pick the shoe up. But after all what is the use of one shoe without its neighbor?"

On he rode and let it lie. Tom then slipped out from behind the hedge, secured the shoe, and ran across the fields till he again got before the butcher. He threw the shoe into the middle of the road and once more crouched behind the hedge and waited.

Along came the butcher, and saw the shoe. "Now," he said, "I can have a pair of good shoes for the lifting. I'll take them home and put my old woman in a good humor for once."

Down he got, lifted off the calf, tied his horse to the hedge, and ran back, thinking to get the other shoe. While he was gone Tom picked up the calf and the shoe and tramped off home.

The butcher did not find the shoe he went back to get, and when he returned to his horse the other shoe was gone and so was his calf. "No doubt the calf has broken the rope that was about its feet," he said, "and has run into the fields."

So he spent a long time searching for it amongst the hedges and ditches. Finally he returned to Tom's master and told him a long story of how he had lost the calf by means of a pair of shoes, which he believed the devil himself must have dropped in the roadway and had picked up later and the calf too.

"I suppose I ought to be thankful," he said in concluding, "that I have my old horse left to carry me home so that I don't have to walk."

"Wouldn't you like to buy another calf?" Tom asked.

"Why, yes," the butcher responded, "if you have one to sell."

Tom then brought from the barn the very calf that the butcher had lost, but as Tom had made a fine white face on it with chalk and water, the butcher did not recognize it. So the sale was made, its legs were tied and it was hoisted onto the horse in front of the butcher. As soon as he was gone, Tom told his master he believed he could get the calf again.

"Oh, no!" the farmer said, "you've fooled him once and he'll be on the lookout for mischief now. But you can try if you want to."

Away ran Tom through the fields until he got ahead of the butcher near where he had taken the calf from him. There he hid behind the hedges and as the butcher was passing he put his hand on his mouth and cried, "Baw, baw!" like a calf.

When the butcher heard this he stopped his horse. "There's the calf I lost," he said.

Down he got, lifted the calf from his horse to the ground, and scrambled hastily through the hedge, thinking he would lay his hands on the lost calf in a few moments. But as he went through one part of the hedge, Tom went through another, got the calf on his back and hurried through the fields home.

The poor butcher spent his time in vain running hither and thither seeking his calf. At last he returned to his horse, and when he found his other calf gone he concluded the place was bewitched.

"Oh, misfortunate day!" he cried, "what shall I do now? and what'll Joan say when I get home, for my money's gone, and the two calves are gone, and I can't buy her the shawl I promised to get."

Back he went to the farmer lamenting his loss. But the farmer thought the joke had been carried far enough now. He told him what had happened and gave him his calf and the second payment of money. So the butcher went off well satisfied, for he had had a good deal of fun for his trouble, had he not?

XV--THE BOY IN A PEACH

It was the beginning of summer. On the bank of a river in Japan an old woman kneeled washing clothes. She took the clothes from a basket beside her and washed them in the water, which was so clear that you could plainly see the stones at the bottom and the dartings of the little minnows.

Presently there came floating down the stream a big round delicious-looking peach.

"Well," the woman said, "I am sixty years old, and never before have I seen so large and handsome a peach. It must be fine to eat."

She looked about for a stick with which to reach the peach, but saw none. For a moment she was perplexed. Then she clapped her hands, and nodded her head while she sang these words:

"Far waters are bitter, near waters are sweet--
Leave the bitter, come to the sweet."

She sang the words three times, whereupon, strange to say, the peach rolled over and over in the water till it came to the shore in front of her.

"How delighted my old man will be!" she thought as she picked it up.

Then she packed the clothes she had been washing into the basket and hurried home. Soon she saw her husband returning from the mountain where he had been cutting grass. She ran to meet him and showed him the peach.

"Dear me!" the old man said, "it is wonderful. Where did you buy it?"

"Buy it? I did not buy it," she replied. Then she told him how she got it from the river.

"I feel hungry," the old man affirmed. "Let us eat the peach at once."

They went to the house and got a knife. But just as the old man was about to cut the peach he heard a child's clear voice say, "Good sir, wait!"

Instantly the peach split in two halves, and out danced a little boy less than six inches high. This was so unexpected that the man and woman nearly fainted with astonishment and fright.

"Do not be afraid," the boy said. "You have often lamented that you have no child, and I have been sent to be your son."

The old couple were very much pleased, and they did all they could to show how welcome he was to their home. Peach-boy was the name they gave him. The years passed, and he grew to be a man remarkable for his beauty, his courage, and, above all, for his great strength.

One day he came to the old man and old woman and said: "Father, your kindness has been higher than the mountain on which you cut grass; and Mother, yours has been deeper than the river in which you wash clothes. How can I thank you?"

"Do not thank us," the old man replied. "The time will come when we cannot work, and then we shall be dependent on you."

"But as things are," Peach-boy said, "I am so greatly indebted to you that I hesitate to make a request that is in my mind."

"What is it?" they questioned.

"It is that you allow me to go away for a short time," he answered.

"Go away? Where to?" they asked.

"I would have you know," he said, "that north of the mainland of Japan is an island inhabited by demons, who kill our people and steal our treasure. I want to destroy them and bring back all their stolen riches. For this purpose I wish to leave you."

The old man was at first speechless with astonishment, but as he considered the matter he was convinced that Peach-boy was not mortal in his origin and therefore was probably safe from injury.

So he said: "You wish to go, and I will not stop you. Indeed, as those demons are the enemies of Japan, the sooner you destroy them and save your country from their depredations the better."

Preparations for Peach-boy's journey began at once. The old woman made him some dumplings and got his clothes ready. When the time came for him to start, the old couple saw him off with tears in their eyes.

"Take care of yourself. May you return victorious," they said.

XVI--A WARRIOR'S HELPERS

Peach-boy walked steadily and rapidly along the highway from early morning until midday, when he sat down to eat his dinner. Just as he took out one of the dumplings, a big savage dog appeared.

"Wow! wow!" the dog barked. "You have come into my territory without leave. If you do not at once give me your dinner I will devour you."

Peach-boy smiled scornfully. "I am on my way to fight the enemies of Japan," he said. "Don't try to stop me or I will slay you."

"I did not know the purpose of your journey," the dog responded, cowering and putting his tail between his legs. "I humbly beg your pardon for my rude conduct. Please allow me to accompany and help you."

"You are welcome to go with me," Peach-boy said.

"But I am very hungry," the dog told him. "Will you please give me something to eat?"

"Here is a dumpling for you," was Peach-boy's response.

When the dog had eaten the dumpling they hurried on. They crossed many mountains and valleys, and one day a monkey sprang down from a tree in front of them and asked, "Where are you going so fast?"

"We are going to fight the enemies of Japan," Peach-boy answered.

"Then pray allow me to go with you," the monkey said.

The dog came angrily forward. "Of what use would you be?" he snarled. "I alone accompany this great warrior."

Monkeys and dogs never can be friends, and of course this speech made the monkey very angry.

"You think a great deal of yourself!" he screeched, and he approached the dog ready to assail him with his teeth and nails.

But Peach-boy stepped between them, saying: "Stop! Do not be so hasty, you two. Stand back, dog. This monkey is not a bad fellow, and I intend to enrol him as one of my vassals."

Then he gave the monkey half a dumpling to eat. Presently the three went on along the highway. But it was no easy matter to keep the peace between the dog and the monkey. So at last Peach-boy had the monkey march ahead of him with his standard, and the dog follow behind him carrying his sword.

At length they entered a wilderness, and a wonderful bird sprang up from the ground as if to assail them. The bird's head plumage was of the deepest crimson and his body was clothed with a feather robe in five colors.

The dog dashed at the bird to seize and devour him, but Peach-boy sprang forward and prevented this. Then he said: "Bird, do you wish to interrupt my journey? If so, the dog shall bite off your head. But if you submit to me you can be one of my company and help fight the enemies of Japan."

The bird instantly bowed in front of Peach-boy, saying, "I am a humble bird called the pheasant. It would be an honor to accompany you on such an expedition."

"Does this low fellow go with us?" the dog growled disdainfully.

"That is no business of yours," Peach-boy said; "and I give you three animals warning that if any quarreling starts among you I will send you all back that very moment. In war a good position is better than good luck, but union is better than either good luck or good position. There can be no squabbling among ourselves if we are to win."

The three animals listened respectfully and promised implicit obedience. Then the pheasant ate a half dumpling that Peach-boy gave him, and the four went on together.

XVII--THE ISLAND OF DEMONS

At last Peach-boy and his companions came to the sea. They looked off across the water in the direction which he told them the island lay whose demon inhabitants he and they were to destroy, and saw nothing but waves. The dog, the monkey, and the pheasant are all creatures that live on dry land, and though the steepest cliff and deepest valley could not frighten them, yet when they saw that endless stretch of rolling waves, they stood speechless and fearful.

Peach-boy observed this and said in a loud voice: "My vassals, why do you tremble? Does the ocean frighten you? It would have been better to have come alone than to have picked up such companions. But now I will dismiss you. Return!"

They were much pained at hearing these reproaches, and they clung to him beseeching him not to send them away. Apparently they were plucking up courage, and he consented to retain them.

He had them help prepare a boat, and they set sail with the first favorable wind. The shore behind them was soon lost to sight, and for a while the animals were very unhappy. But they gradually became accustomed to the motion and presently stood on deck eagerly looking ahead to see the island as soon as it came into view. When they wearied of that they began to show their accomplishments. The dog sat up and begged, the monkey played tricks, and the pheasant sang a song.

Their performances greatly amused Peach-boy, and before he knew it the island was close at hand. On it he could see numerous flags fluttering above what seemed to be an impregnable fortress. This fortress had a heavy gate of iron, and inside were many closely-crowded houses, all of which had iron roofs.

Peach-boy turned to the pheasant and said: "You have wings. Fly to the fortress and find out what those island demons are doing."

The pheasant promptly obeyed his orders and found the demons, some of them red, some black, some blue, assembled on the iron roofs of their houses. "Listen, you island demons!" the pheasant cried. "A mighty warrior is coming with an army to destroy you. If you wish to save your lives, yield at once."

"You vain pheasant!" the demons laughed, "it is you who will be destroyed--not us."

So saying, they shook their horns at him, girded up their garments of tiger-skin, and seized their weapons. But that did not scare the pheasant. He swooped down and with one peck took off the head of a red demon.

Then began a fierce battle, and soon the gate burst open, and Peach-boy with the dog and monkey rushed in raging like lions. The demons, who thought that they only had to do with one bird, were much alarmed, yet they fought bravely, and even their children joined in the fray. The sound of their yells as it mingled with the sound of the waves beating on the shore was truly terrible.

In the end they got the worst of it. Some fell from the roofs of their houses, the walls of the fortress, and the wild cliffs, and some were killed by the irresistible onslaughts of Peach-boy, and of the dog, the monkey, and the pheasant.

When, at last, only the head demon remained alive, he threw away his weapons, and knelt in submission before Peach-boy with the tears streaming down his cheeks. "Great warrior," he said, "spare my life! From today I shall reform. Spare me!"

Peach-boy laughed scornfully. "You villain!" he cried, "for many years you have persecuted and killed innocent people; and now that your own life is in danger you beg for mercy and promise to reform. You deserve no mercy, and shall receive none."

So the head demon shared the fate of the rest of his tribe, and Peach-boy and his comrades loaded their boat with the hoarded island treasures. There were coral and tortoise and pearls, not to speak of magic hats and coats that made their wearers invisible.

All these things they carried away, and great was the joy of the old man and old woman when they saw Peach-boy return victorious. After that he and they lived happily to the end of their days.

XVIII--ANDREW COFFEY

My grandfather, Andrew Coffey, was known to every one in the region about his home as a quiet decent man. He was fond of rambling and riding, and was familiar with every hill and dale, bog and pasture, field and covert in that part of the country.

Then fancy his surprise, while riding only a few miles from home, one evening, to find himself in a vicinity that he did not recognize at all. His good horse was constantly stumbling against some tree or into some bog-hole that by rights ought not to be there. To make matters worse, a cold March wind was blowing, and rain began to pelt down.

Soon he was gladdened by the sight of a light among the trees in the distance, and when he drew near he found a cabin, though for the life of him he couldn't think how it came there. However, after tying his horse, in he walked. A fire was blazing on the hearth, and near it was a comfortable chair. But not a soul was there in the room.

He sat down and got a little warm and cheered after his drenching, but all the while he was wondering and wondering. He was still puzzling over his experiences when he heard a voice.

"Andrew Coffey! Andrew Coffey!" it said.

Good heavens! who was calling him, and not a soul in sight? Look around as he might, he could find no one indoors or out. To add to his other worries, his horse was gone. Again he heard the voice.

"_Andrew Coffey! Andrew Coffey!_ tell me a story," it said, and it spoke louder than before.

What a thing to ask for! It was bad enough not to be left in peace seated by the fire drying oneself, without being bothered for a story. A third time the voice spoke, and louder than ever.

"Andrew Coffey! Andrew Coffey! tell me a story or it will be the worse for you," it said.

My poor grandfather was so dumb-founded that he could only stand and stare. For a fourth time the voice spoke.

"ANDREW COFFEY! ANDREW COFFEY!" it shouted, "I told you it would be the worse for you."

Then a man bounced out from a cupboard that Andrew Coffey had not noticed before. He was in a towering rage, and he carried as fine a blackthorn club as was ever used to crack a man's head. When my grandfather clapped eyes on him he knew him for Patrick Rooney who had gone overboard one day in a sudden storm while fishing on the sea long years ago.

Andrew Coffey did not stop to visit, but took to his heels and got out of the house as quickly as he could. He ran and he ran taking little thought of where he went till at last he ran against a tree. Then he sat down to rest.

But he had been there only a few moments when he heard voices. One said, "the vagabond is heavy."

Another said, "Steady now, lads."

A third said, "I've lugged him as far as I care to."

A fourth said, "We'll stop when we get to the big tree yonder."

That happened to be the tree under which Andrew Coffey was sitting. "Better see than be seen," he thought. Then he swung himself up by a branch and was soon snugly hidden away in the tree.

The rain and wind had ceased and there was light enough for Andrew Coffey to see four men carrying a long box. They brought it under the tree, set it down, and opened it. Then, what should they take out but Patrick Rooney? Never a word did he say, and he was as pale as new-fallen snow.

The men gathered brushwood and soon had a fire burning. Then they stuck two stakes into the ground on each side of the fire, laid a pole across on the tops of them, and on to the pole they slung Patrick Rooney.

"He's all fixed now," one said, "but who's to take care of the fire while we're away?"

With that Patrick opened his lips. "Andrew Coffey," he said.

Then the four men, each speaking the name once, called out, "Andrew Coffey! Andrew Coffey! Andrew Coffey! Andrew Coffey!"

"Gentlemen, I'd be glad to oblige you," Andrew Coffey said, "but I know nothing about this sort of roasting."

"You'd better come down, Andrew Coffey," Patrick said.

It was the second time he spoke, and Andrew Coffey decided he would come down. The four men went off, and he was left alone with Patrick. He sat down by the fire and kept it even, and all the while Patrick looked at him.

Poor Andrew Coffey couldn't understand the situation at all, and he stared at Patrick and at the fire, and thought of the cabin in the wood till he felt quite dazed.

"Ah, you're burning me!" Patrick said, very short and sharp.

"I beg your pardon," my grandfather said, and hastened to fix the fire.

He couldn't get the notion out of his head that something was wrong. Hadn't everybody, near and far, said that Patrick had fallen overboard?

"_Andrew Coffey!_ _Andrew Coffey!_ you're burning me!" Patrick exclaimed.

My grandfather was sorry enough, and he vowed he wouldn't do so again.

"You'd better not," Patrick grumbled, and he gave him a cock of his eye, and a grin of his teeth that sent a shiver down Andrew Coffey's back. It certainly was odd that Andrew Coffey should be there in a thick wood that he had never set eyes on before, roasting Patrick Rooney. You can't wonder that my grandfather thought and thought and forgot the fire.

_"Andrew Coffey!_ _Andrew Coffey!_ I'll punish you for the way you're neglecting me!" Patrick Rooney cried.

He was unslinging himself from the pole now, and his eyes glared and his teeth glistened. My grandfather got up in haste and ran off into the gloomy wood. He stumbled over stones, the brambles tore his clothes, the branches beat his face.

Presently he saw a light and was glad. A minute later he was kneeling by a hearth-side, dazed and bedraggled. The flames leaped and crackled, and he was beginning to get warm and feel a little easy in his mind when he heard a voice shouting, "Andrew Coffey! Andrew Coffey!"

It's hard for a man to jump after going through all my grandfather had, but jump he did. When he looked around, where should he find himself but in the very cabin in which he had first met Patrick.

"Andrew Coffey! Andrew Coffey! tell me a story," the voice said.

"Is it a story you want?" my grandfather said, as bold as could be, for he was tired of being frightened. "Well then, here's one."

And he told the tale of what had befallen him from first to last that night. The tale was long and he was weary. He must have fallen asleep, for when he awoke he lay on a hillside under the open heavens, and his horse grazed at his side.

XIX--CARELESS MR. BUZZARD

Mr. Turkey Buzzard doesn't have any sense. You watch him and you will see that what I have said is true.

When the rain pours down he sits on the fence and hunches up his shoulders and draws in his neck and tries to hide his head. There he sits looking so pitiful that you are real sorry for him.

"Never mind," he says to himself, "when this rain is over I'm going to build a house right off. I'm not going to let the rain pelt me this way again."

But after the clouds were gone, and a fresh breeze blew, and the sun shone, what did Mr. Turkey Buzzard do? He sat on top of a dead pine tree where the sun could warm him, and he stretched out his wings, and he turned round and round so the wind could dry his feathers. Then he laughed to himself and said: "The rain is over. It isn't going to rain any more, there's no use of my building a house now."

Mr. Turkey Buzzard is certainly a very careless man. When it is raining he can't build a house, and when it isn't raining he doesn't need one.

* * * * *

If you have enjoyed these stories you will want to read the other books in the series.

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