Part 8 (2/2)

Just here Bamboo began to cry.

”Now what is the silly boy blubbering about?” sneered the turtle. ”Is he nothing but a cry-baby?”

”No, but I don't want you to go.”

”Don't want me to go, eh? Just like all the others. You're a fine fellow! What reason have you for wanting to see me weighed down here all the rest of my life with a mountain on my back? Why, I thought you were sorry for me, and it turns out that you are as mean as anybody else.”

”It is so lonely here, and I have no playmates. You are the only friend I have.”

The tortoise laughed loudly. ”Ho, ho! so it's because I make you a good playmate, eh? Now, if that's your reason, that's another story altogether. What do you say to going with me then? I, too, need a friend, and if you help me to escape, why, you are the very friend for me.”

”But how shall you get the tablet off your back?” questioned Bamboo doubtfully. ”It's very heavy.”

”That's easy, just walk out of the door. The tablet is too tall to go through. It will slide off and sit on the floor instead of on my sh.e.l.l.”

Bamboo, wild with delight at the thought of going on a journey with the turtle, promised to obey the other's commands. After supper, when all were asleep in the little house of the keeper, he slipped from his bed, took down the heavy key from its peg, and ran pell-mell to the temple.

”Well, you didn't forget me, did you?” asked the turtle when Bamboo swung the iron gates open.

”Oh, no, I would not break a promise. Are you ready?”

”Yes, quite ready.” So saying, the turtle took a step. The tablet swayed backward and forward, but did not fall. On walked the turtle until finally he stuck his ugly head through the doorway. ”Oh, how good it looks outside,” he said. ”How pleasant the fresh air feels! Is that the moon rising over yonder? It's the first time I've seen it for an age.

My word! just look at the trees! How they have grown since they set that tombstone on my back! There's a regular forest outside now.”

Bamboo was delighted when he saw the turtle's glee at escaping. ”Be careful,” he cried, ”not to let the tablet fall hard enough to break it.”

Even as he spoke, the awkward beast waddled through the door. The upper end of the monument struck against the wall, toppled off, and fell with a great crash to the floor. Bamboo s.h.i.+vered with fear. Would his father come and find out what had happened?

”Don't be afraid, my boy. No one will come at this hour of the night to spy on us.”

Bamboo quickly locked the gates, ran back to the house, and hung the key on its peg. He took a long look at his sleeping parents, and then returned to his friend. After all, he would not be gone long and his father would surely forgive him.

Soon the comrades were walking down the broad road, very slowly, for the tortoise is not swift of foot and Bamboo's legs were none too long.

”Where are you going?” said the boy at last, after he had begun to feel more at home with the turtle.

”Going? Where should you think I would want to go after my century in prison? Why, back to the first home of my father, back to the very spot where the great G.o.d, P'anku, and his three helpers hewed out the world.”

”And is it far?” faltered the boy, beginning to feel just the least bit tired.

”At this rate, yes, but, bless my life, you didn't think we could travel all the way at this snail's pace, I hope. Jump on my back, and I'll show you how to go. Before morning we shall be at the end of the world, or rather, the beginning.”

”Where is the beginning of the world?” asked Bamboo. ”I have never studied geography.”

”We must cross China, then Thibet, and at last in the mountains just beyond we shall reach the spot which P'anku made the centre of his labour.”

At that moment Bamboo felt himself being lifted from the ground. At first he thought he would slip off the turtle's rounded sh.e.l.l, and he cried out in fright.

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