Andrew Lang_Fairy Book 09 (8 page)

The next day the husband declared that he was very ill, and could
not eat anything; but this was only a presence so that he might
get what he wanted. The family were all much distressed, and
begged him to tell them what food he fancied.

'Oh! I could not eat any food,' he answered every time, and at
each answer his voice grew fainter and fainter, till they thought
he would die from weakness before their eyes.

'There must be some thing you could take, if you would only say
what it is,' implored his wife.

'No, nothing, nothing; except, perhaps—but of course that is
impossible!'

'No, I am sure it is not,' replied she; ' you shall have it, I
promise—only tell me what it is.'

'I think—but I could not ask you to do such a thing. Leave me
alone, and let me die quietly.'

'You shall not die,' cried the girl, who was very fond of her
husband, for he did not beat her as most girls' husbands did.
'Whatever it is, I will manage to get it for you.'

'Well, then, I think, if I had that—redbreast, nicely roasted, I
could eat a little bit of his wing!'

The wife started back in horror at such a request; but the man
turned his face to the wall, and took no notice, as he thought it
was better to leave her to herself for a little.

Weeping and wringing her hands, the girl went down to her mother.
The brothers were very angry when they heard the story, and
declared that, if any one were to die, it certainly should not be
the robin. But all that night the man seemed getting weaker and
weaker, and at last, quite early, the wife crept out, and
stealing to the hut, killed the bird, and brought him home to her
husband.

Just as she was going to cook it her two brothers came in. They
cried out in horror at the sight, and, rushing out of the hut,
declared they would never see her any more. And the poor girl,
with a heavy heart, took the body of the redbreast up to her
husband.

But directly she entered the room the man told her that he felt a
great deal better, and that he would rather have a piece of
bear's flesh, well boiled, than any bird, however tender. His
wife felt very miserable to think that their beloved redbreast
had been sacrificed for nothing, and begged him to try a little
bit.

'You felt so sure that it would do you good before,' said she,
'that I can't help thinking it would quite cure you now.' But
the man only flew into a rage, and flung the bird out of the
window. Then he got up and went out.

Now all this while the ball had been rolling, rolling, rolling to
the old grandmother's hut on the other side of the world, and
directly it rolled into her hut she knew that her grandson must
be dead. Without wasting any time she took a fox skin and tied
it round her forehead, and fastened another round her waist, as
witches always do when they leave their own homes. When she was
ready she said to the ball: ' Go back the way you came, and lead
me to my grandson.' And the ball started with the old woman
following.

It was a long journey, even for a witch, but, like other things,
it ended at last; and the old woman stood before the platform of
stakes, where the body of Ball-Carrier lay.

'Wake up, my grandson, it is time to go home,' the witch said.
And Ball-Carrier stepped down oft the platform, and brought his
club and bow and arrows out of the hut, and set out, for the
other side of the world, behind the old woman.

When they reached the hut where Ball-Carrier had fasted so many
years ago, the old woman spoke for the first time since they had
started on their way.

'My grandson, did you ever manage to get that gold from the Bad
One?'

'Yes, grandmother, I got it.'

'Where is it?' she asked.

'Here, in my left arm-pit,' answered he.

So she picked up a knife and scraped away all the gold which had
stuck to his skin, and which had been sticking there ever since
he first stole it. After she had finished she asked again:

'My grandson, did you manage to get that bridge from the Bad
One?'

'Yes, grandmother, I got that too,' answered he.

'Where is it?' she asked, and Ball-Carrier lifted his right arm,
and pointed to his arm-pit.

'Here is the bridge, grandmother,' said he.

Then the witch did something that nobody in the world could have
guessed that she would do. First, she took the gold and said to
Ball-carrier:

'My grandson, this gold must be hidden in the earth, for if
people think they can get it when they choose, they will become
lazy and stupid. But if we take it and bury it in different
parts of the world they will have to work for it if they want it,
and then will only find a little at a time.' And as she spoke,
she pulled up one of the poles of the hut, and Ball-Carrier saw
that underneath was a deep, deep hole, which seemed to have no
bottom. Down this hole she poured all the gold, and when it was
out of sight it ran about all over the world, where people that
dig hard sometimes find it. And after that was done she put the
pole back again.

Next she lifted down a spade from a high shelf, where it had
grown quite rusty, and dug a very small hole on the opposite side
of the hut—very small, but very deep.

'Give me the bridge,' said she, ' for I am going to bury it here.
If anyone was to get hold of it, and find that they could cross
rivers and seas without any trouble, they would never discover
how to cross them for themselves. I am a witch, and if I had
chosen I could easily have cast my spells over the Bad One, and
have made him deliver them to you the first day you came into my
hut. But then you would never have fasted, and never have
planned how to get what you wanted, and never have known the good
spirits, and would have been fat and idle to the end of your
days. And now go; in that hut, which you can just see far away,
live your father and mother, who are old people now, and need a
son to hunt for them. You have done what you were set to do, and
I need you no more.'

Then Ball-Carrier remembered his parents and went back to them.

(From Bureau of Ethnology. 'Indian Folklore.')

Long, long ago, far, far away on the other side of the world,
some young men left the camp where they lived to get some food
for their wives and children. The sun was hot, but they liked
heat, and as they went they ran races and tried who could hurl
his spear the farthest, or was cleverest in throwing a strange
weapon called a boomerang, which always returns to the thrower.
They did not get on very fast at this rate, but presently they
reached a flat place that in time of flood was full of water, but
was now, in the height of summer, only a set of pools, each
surrounded with a fringe of plants, with bulrushes standing in
the inside of all. In that country the people are fond of the
roots of bulrushes, which they think as good as onions, and one
of the young men said that they had better collect some of the
roots and carry them back to the camp. It did not take them long
to weave the tops of the willows into a basket, and they were
just going to wade into the water and pull up the bulrush roots
when a youth suddenly called out: 'After all, why should we waste
our time in doing work that is only fit for women and children?
Let them come and get the roots for themselves; but we will fish
for eels and anything else we can get.'

This delighted the rest of the party, and they all began to
arrange their fishing lines, made from the bark of the yellow
mimosa, and to search for bait for their hooks. Most of them
used worms, but one, who had put a piece of raw meat for dinner
into his skin wallet, cut off a little bit and baited his line
with it, unseen by his companions.

For a long time they cast patiently, without receiving a single
bite; the sun had grown low in the sky, and it seemed as if they
would have to go home empty-handed, not even with a basket of
roots to show; when the youth, who had baited his hook with raw
meat, suddenly saw his line disappear under the water.
Something, a very heavy fish he supposed, was pulling so hard
that he could hardly keep his feet, and for a few minutes it
seemed either as if he must let go or be dragged into the pool.
He cried to his friends to help him, and at last, trembling with
fright at what they were going to see, they managed between them
to land on the bank a creature that was neither a calf nor a
seal, but something of both, with a long, broad tail. They
looked at each other with horror, cold shivers running down their
spines; for though they had never beheld it, there was not a man
amongst them who did not know what it was— the cub of the awful
Bunyip!

All of a sudden the silence was broken by a low wail, answered by
another from the other side of the pool, as the mother rose up
from her den and came towards them, rage flashing from her
horrible yellow eyes. 'Let it go! let it go!' whispered the
young men to each other; but the captor declared that he had
caught it, and was going to keep it. 'He had promised his
sweetheart,' he said, 'that he would bring back enough meat for
her father's house to feast on for three days, and though they
could not eat the little Bunyip, her brothers and sisters should
have it to play with.' So, flinging his spear at the mother to
keep her back, he threw the little Bunyip on to his shoulders,
and set out for the camp, never heeding the poor mother's cries
of distress.

By this time it was getting near sunset, and the plain was in
shadow, though the tops of the mountains were still quite bright.
The youths had all ceased to be afraid, when they were startled
by a low rushing sound behind them, and, looking round, saw that
the pool was slowly rising, and the spot where they had landed
the Bunyip was quite covered. 'What could it be?' they asked one
of another; ' there was not a cloud in the sky, yet the water had
risen higher already than they had ever known it do before.' For
an instant they stood watching as if they were frozen, then they
turned and ran with all their might, the man with the Bunyip run-
ning faster than all. When he reached a high peak over- looking
all the plain he stopped to take breath, and turned to see if he
was safe yet. Safe! why only the tops of the trees remained
above that sea of water, and these were fast disappearing. They
must run fast indeed if they were to escape. So on they flew,
scarcely feeling the ground as they went, till they flung
themselves on the ground before the holes scooped out of the
earth where they had all been born. The old men were sitting in
front, the children were playing, and the women chattering
together, when the little Bunyip fell into their midst, and there
was scarcely a child among them who did not know that something
terrible was upon them. 'The water! the water!' gasped one of
the young men; and there it was, slowly but steadily mounting the
ridge itself. Parents and children clung together, as if by that
means they could drive back the advancing flood; and the youth
who had caused all this terrible catastrophe, seized his
sweetheart, and cried: 'I will climb with you to the top of that
tree, and there no waters can reach us.' But, as he spoke,
something cold touched him, and quickly he glanced down at his
feet. Then with a shudder he saw that they were feet no longer,
but bird's claws. He looked at the girl he was clasping, and
beheld a great black bird standing at his side; he turned to his
friends, but a flock of great awkward flapping creatures stood in
their place He put up his hands to cover his face, but they were
no more hands, only the ends of wings; and when he tried to
speak, a noise such as he had never heard before seemed to come
from his throat, which had suddenly become narrow and slender.
Already the water had risen to his waist, and he found himself
sitting easily upon it, while its surface reflected back the
image of a black swan, one of many.

Never again did the swans become men; but they are still
different from other swans, for in the night-time those who
listen can hear them talk in a language that is certainly not
swan's language; and there are even sounds of laughing and
talking, unlike any noise made by the swans whom we know.

The little Bunyip was carried home by its mother, and after that
the waters sank back to their own channels. The side of the pool
where she lives is always shunned by everyone, as nobody knows
when she may suddenly put out her head and draw him into her
mighty jaws. But people say that underneath the black waters of
the pool she has a house filled with beautiful things, such as
mortals who dwell on the earth have no idea of. Though how they
know I cannot tell you, as nobody has ever seen it.

(From Journal of Anthropological-Institute.)

Once upon a time there lived a man who had nearly as many
children as there were sparrows in the garden. He had to work
very hard all day to get them enough to eat, and was often tired
and cross, and abused everything and everybody, so that people
called him 'Father Grumbler.'

By-and-by he grew weary of always working, and on Sundays he lay
a long while in bed, instead of going to church. Then after a
time he found it dull to sit so many hours by himself, thinking
of nothing but how to pay the rent that was owing, and as the
tavern across the road looked bright and cheerful, he walked in
one day and sat down with his friends. 'It was just to chase
away Care,' he said; but when he came out, hours and hours after,
Care came out with him.

Father Grumbler entered his house feeling more dismal than when
he left it, for he knew that he had wasted both his time and his
money.

'I will go and see the Holy Man in the cave near the well,' he
said to himself, 'and perhaps he can tell me why all the luck is
for other people, and only misfortunes happen to me.' And he set
out at once for the cave.