Part 19 (1/2)
All the books seemed listening, waiting for him to speak. They were indeed like soldiers, shoulder to shoulder, standing at ”attention.”
”It is a n.o.ble army!” exclaimed Red Rex at last, and his voice was low and gentle. ”It is the best kind of army for the world, I see, as I have never seen before. I would it were mine!”
”It is yours, Your Majesty,” said the Librarian. ”You have but to make free use of it. These soldiers are free-lances, at the service not of one master, but of any one who employs them intelligently. Read them, Your Majesty, and so make them yours, if you will.” The Librarian spread out his hands in a generous gesture.
”By my Hope, you are hospitable and magnanimous!” cried Red Rex. ”I am tempted to take you at your word. Come, let there be no more war between us. Let us make no brief truce, but agree, instead, upon a true, lasting peace. Already I have promised this Harold of yours to spare the city, east, west, and north,--which is the whole of it. But come; promise me now to spare me the scorn and hatred which you owe for my unfriendliness. Let us spare each other and be friends. For I would know more of your books and of your people.”
”Good, Your Majesty!” cried the Lord Mayor, stepping forward. ”By all means let there be peace. We have no wish for anything else. Our hastily gathered soldiers are eager to return again to private life. Send away your army, and let peace be proclaimed with no more formality than our true words given each to other in this library, with the witness of the books.”
”Done!” shouted Red Rex. ”Here is my hand on it!” And he shook hands first with the Lord Mayor, then with the Librarian, then with the other Leading Citizens. Harold and his chums were standing modestly a little way apart. He called the boy to his side and laid an arm affectionately about his shoulder. ”Here is your true peacemaker,” said Red Rex. ”If Harold had not been so good a reader, I should never have been here in peace with you at this moment. To Harold and his books I owe the vision of what a library really is.”
”Your Majesty,” said Harold promptly, ”will you also shake hands with Richard and Robert? It will make them very proud.”
”That will I!” cried Red Rex. And he not only shook hands, but clapped the boys on the shoulder, calling each by name; which was a thing for them to remember all their lives.
”Now!” announced the Red King, taking a large seal ring from his finger and handing it to his soldier who bore the flag of truce. ”Take this ring, and go back to my army; bid the generals lead their men home, and busy themselves in some useful work until my return. For as for me, I shall remain for a s.p.a.ce in this peaceful city, in this peaceful Kingdom, to learn something further of its ways and wonders, which interest me hugely.”
The soldier saluted and retired. And shortly after was heard beyond the walls the _tramp, tramp_ of a retreating army. The Red King was alone in Kisington, among the books.
Little cared he for what went on outside. He was carried away by the fascination of a world new to him. The Librarian led him from room to room, from stack to stack, from shelf to shelf of tempting books. The Red King was fairly bewildered by the opportunities offered. He wanted to read all the volumes at once.
”I never dreamed there were so many books in the world!” he cried. ”How can a man live long enough to read them all, if he does nothing else all his days?”
”Do you wonder we have no time for war, Your Majesty?” asked the Librarian.
”No more war for me!” declared Red Rex. They had reached a division of the books labeled in huge letters OUTLAND TALES. The Red King laid his hand upon a volume bound in green-and-silver, like ice. ”This has a tempting look,” said Red Rex. ”Are these also Chronicles of Kisington?”
”Yes, in a sense,” answered the Librarian. ”The deeds here recorded happened not in our Kingdom; yet, being tales gathered by our forbears in their travels around the world, to and from Kisington, they had a part in our history. They helped our fathers the better to understand and sympathize with the stranger, and so made for the peace which they loved.”
”This is a story for me,” declared Red Rex, who had been peeping into the ice-bound volume. ”I would fain hear another tale interpreted by my little friend. Harold, will you read me this story, as you have read so many ere now? I long to hear your pleasant voice again.”
”I will read whatever Your Majesty wishes,” replied Harold. ”Shall we go into this alcove where we shall be quite undisturbed and undisturbing?”
”By all means,” said Red Rex. And here, in a cozy comer under one of the great windows, with Richard and Robert on either side of him, Harold read to the delighted King the Icelandic tale of _The Bear's Daughter_.
XX: THE BEAR'S DAUGHTER
Once upon a time, on an island far to the north of Kisington, whither only the bravest sailors dared to venture, lived a boy named Hans. They called him Hans the Hunter, because he loved so much to hunt and fish.
He was a tall, brave, and st.u.r.dy lad, and he loved his life and was proud of his nickname. He had a hard spot in his heart, or he would not have been a hunter.
One day Hans went out with two other lads to hunt. It was in the early spring, the season when the ice breaks up in the rivers and begins to move seaward, like the hearts of men. The three wandered for many miles over the ice and snow until they came to the frozen bed of a river; but they did not know it was a river, the water of it flowed so far below the cakes of ice which concealed it, while over all was a thick crust of snow.
At this spot Hans the Hunter, who was after big game, left the others and started toward the south. Presently in the snow his sharp eyes spied the tracks of a huge bear. He was greatly delighted, and began to follow the slot so eagerly that he hardly marked where he was going. But all on a sudden he felt an unsteady motion under his feet. The ground seemed slipping beneath him. The snow parted and the ice cracked, and he spied blue water in the gaps between. Then he realized that he was upon a river, afloat upon a cake of ice!
Hans was greatly terrified, and made haste to leap upon a larger floe, for the former was too small to hold his weight, and threatened to turn upside down. Still he was in great danger; for before he knew it the river had carried him out into a bay of floating ice, far from the steady land. To and fro he leaped on his long legs, over the moving ma.s.s, hoping to find a way of escaping back to the sh.o.r.e. But presently he saw to his horror that he was rapidly floating out to the ocean upon a huge ice-floe, which was fast separating from the others. He was adrift upon a barren island of ice!
Scarcely had he had time to realize this, when Hans had another shock.
As he came around a huge pillar of ice, he almost stumbled upon a huge white bear lying asleep upon her side. It must have been the very same bear whose tracks had led Hans into danger, and which he had quite forgotten. With a hunter's instinct Hans raised his gun to shoot her.
But at the moment, before he pulled the trigger, the bear opened her eyes and spoke to him; and it did not seem so very strange to hear her speak his own language.
”Why do you seek to kill me?” she said piteously. ”I have done no harm to you, Hans the Hunter. Moreover, if you kill me you will yourself die of cold within a few hours. If you lie down upon the ice to sleep you will freeze to death. But if you rest against my thick fur I will keep you warm. O man! Why must we be enemies? We are bound on a dangerous sea voyage together. Be my friend! Catch fish for me, so that we shall not starve. So, helping one another, we shall live comfortably on this floating home until we are able to go ash.o.r.e.”