Part 31 (1/2)

”I never saw such a big, round, white blossom before,” he heard one of them say, as he drew a blue ribbon from his pocket and tied it to the stem on which he hung. He knew and soon, of course, everybody knew that the ”s...o...b..ll Bush” had won the prize. His heart beat so fast that he thought he was growing red in the face. _Perhaps he was melting!_ But he wasn't, for he heard a girl say just then, as she pa.s.sed, ”How white and cool it looks!”

s...o...b..ll Number One had often wondered what had happened to his friends, the other s...o...b..a.l.l.s. One reason why he had been anxious to get out of the bush was to find out, if he could, what had become of them all. But the doings of the day had driven all thought of them out of his busy head.

Now, as the people began to leave the garden, and excitement grew less, he remembered and looked about him. Here was the yard in which the boys made him. There was the very place under the edge of the veranda where he had spent the winter and where they had all stood that spring morning when Life-of-the-Bush called to them. There was the place, almost under him, where he knew they had all tumbled down the moment he left them. But not a trace of a s...o...b..ll could be seen.

Of course not! They had all disappeared long ago, the very day, indeed, in which they tumbled down. Before noon the hot sun had melted them, every one, and carried them away, tan and freckles and all, and no one ever heard of them again.

Number One, who ran right out into the sun, was the only s...o...b..ll that didn't melt.

GAU-WI-DI-NE AND GO-HAY, WINTER AND SPRING

(Iroquois Legend)

The snow mountain lifted its head close to the sky; the clouds wrapped around it their floating drifts which held the winter's hail and snowfalls, and with scorn it defied the sunlight which crept over its height, slow and s.h.i.+vering on its way to the valleys.

Close at the foot of the mountain, an old man had built him a lodge ”for a time,” said he, as he packed it around with great blocks of ice. Within he stored piles of wood and corn and dried meat and fish.

No person, animal, nor bird could enter this lodge, only North Wind, the only friend the old man had. Whenever strong and l.u.s.ty North Wind pa.s.sed the lodge he would scream ”ugh-e-e-e, ugh-e-e-e,” as with a blast of his bl.u.s.terings he pa.s.sed over the earth.

But North Wind came only seldom to the lodge. He was too busy searching the corners of the earth and driving the snow and the hail, but when he had wandered far and was in need of advice, he would visit the lodge to smoke and counsel with the old man about the next snowfall, before journeying to his home in the north sky; and they would sit by the fire which blazed and glowed yet could not warm them.

The old man's bushy whiskers were heavy with the icicles which clung to them, and when the blazing fire flared its lights, illuminating them with the warm hues of the summer sunset, he would rave as he struck them down, and glare with rage as they fell snapping and crackling at his feet.

One night, as together they sat smoking and dozing before the fire, a strange feeling of fear came over them, the air seemed growing warmer and the ice began to melt. Said North Wind:

”I wonder what warm thing is coming, the snow seems vanis.h.i.+ng and sinking lower in the earth.” But the old man cared not, and was silent. He knew his lodge was strong, and he chuckled with scorn as he bade North Wind abandon his fears and depart for his home. But North Wind went drifting the fast-falling snow higher on the mountain until it groaned under its heavy burden, and scolding and blasting, his voice gradually died away. Still the old man remained silent and moved not, but, lost in thought, sat looking into the fire, when there came a loud knock at his door. ”Some foolish breath of North Wind is wandering,” thought he, and he heeded it not.

Again came the rapping, but swifter and louder, and a pleading voice begged to come in.

Still the old man remained silent, and, drawing nearer to the fire, quieted himself for sleep; but the rapping continued, louder, fiercer, and increased his anger. ”Who dares approach the door of my lodge?” he shrieked. ”You are not North Wind, who alone can enter here. Begone!

no refuge here for trifling winds; go back to your home in the sky.”

But, as he spoke, the strong bar securing the door fell from its fastening, the door swung open and a stalwart young warrior stood before him shaking the snow from his shoulders as he noiselessly closed the door.

Safe within the lodge, the warrior heeded not the old man's anger, but with a cheerful greeting drew close to the fire, extending his hands to its ruddy blaze, when a glow as of summer illumined the lodge. But the kindly greeting and the glowing light served only to incense the old man, and rising in rage, he ordered the warrior to depart.

”Go!” he exclaimed. ”I know you not. You have entered my lodge and you bring a strange light. Why have you forced my lodge door? You are young, and youth has no need of my fire. When I enter my lodge, all the earth sleeps. You are strong, with the glow of suns.h.i.+ne on your face. Long ago I buried the suns.h.i.+ne beneath the snowdrifts. Go! you have no place here.

”Your eyes bear the gleam of the summer stars. North Wind blew out the summer star-lights moons ago. Your eyes dazzle my lodge, your breath does not smoke in chill vapour, but comes from your lips soft and warm; it will melt my lodge. You have no place here.

”Your hair so soft and fine, streaming back like the night shades, will weave my lodge into tangles. You have no place here.

”Your shoulders are bare and white as the snowdrifts. You have no furs to cover them; depart from my lodge. See, as you sit by my fire, how it draws away from you. Depart, I say, from my lodge!”

But the young warrior only smiled, and asked that he might remain to fill his pipe; and they sat down by the fire. Then the old man became garrulous and began to boast of his great powers.

”I am powerful and strong,” said he. ”I send North Wind to blow all over the earth and its waters stop to listen to his voice as he freezes them fast asleep. When I touch the sky the snow hurries down and the hunters hide by their lodge fires; the birds fly scared, and the animals creep to their caves. When I lay my hand on the land, I harden it still as the rocks; nothing can forbid me nor loosen my fetters. You, young warrior, though you s.h.i.+ne like the Sun, you have no power. Go! I give you a chance to escape me, but I could blow my breath and fold around you a mist which would turn you to ice forever!