Stories of Enchantment 9

Stories of Enchantment 9

IX.

THE KING WILL HUNT TO-DAY.

 

 

This story was told by an Indian mother to her children, while the wind

whirled and twisted the snow into great heaps against the walls of the

tepee.

 

“This that I will tell you happened many years ago, before the white man

was here, and when the red man owned all the vast prairies and deep

woods, the great lakes and broad rivers of this land. The red man ruled

over every living animal, save the great bear, who dwelt in the dim

vastness of the forest, and the gaunt wolves, who submitted to the rule

of a king, strong and terrible.

 

“One winter the frost came early; the rivers were frozen solid; the snow

covered the nuts under the trees and the roots that were eatable. The

animals sought their dens and burrows, and the earth slept the

death-sleep. All living things suffered, the red men most of all; there

was fasting and sorrow in all the tepees—in all save one, where lived

the Wolf-Maiden and her mother. Their tepee was warm and bright—warm

with the furs of animals, bright with the light of great dry logs

blazing on the fire. The daughter was plump and rosy, for she had plenty

of food; but the mother was thin and pale, and sat all day with her face

hidden on her knees, in the corner of the tepee. Every night the

daughter called the mother to come with her; and the mother followed,

trembling, not daring to disobey. Those who watched them saw them

disappear in the starlight, across the wide, snow-covered prairie,

taking the direction of the ravine, where were the dens of the Wolf-King

and his old wolf-mother. They would return heavily laden with meat and

furs; and frequently the mother bent under a great load of logs. Often

when the children of the village, hollow-eyed and pale, would come near

the tepee, scenting the fragrance of the broiling meat, the maiden would

snatch from the fire a portion and offer it to the little ones; but it

was rejected with horror; for the mothers had told the children that the

meat was bewitched, and if they ate of it they would be turned into

wolves.

 

“The Wolf-Maiden was looked upon with fear; for it was said that in the

long summer evenings she had been seen playing and romping with the old

mother-wolf and the young Wolf-King; while her Indian mother, from a

distant hill, watched her, and wrung her hands for fear. So all the

girls of the tribe shunned her, and the young men feared her greatly.

 

“Now the winter waxed colder and fiercer, and cruel hunger dwelt in each

tepee. Many little ones died, for there was no food for them; and there

was mourning in the village. The Wolf-Maiden’s heart was filled with

pity; she went to the mothers and offered them meat for the children.

When they drew back she said, ‘Is it not better to give this to the

children than to see them die? Do not I eat it, and am I a wolf?’

 

“Then her face grew red as the sky when the sun bids it good night. The

mothers finally accepted the meat, although with many a smothered curse

for the giver. The children grew strong and rosy again; and the parents

watched them anxiously, to see if claws or fur would appear on them.

 

“But the Wolf-King and his subjects grew weary with the toil of

supplying so many with food; and in sulky silence they retired to their

dens and slept the time away. Then, when the Wolf-Maiden had gone to his

den, and had called the king to come to her without avail, she sought

the old mother-wolf, and she said, ‘Oh, mother, dost thou not care that

thy child lacks food? and see, my lazy brother will not hunt for me.’

 

“And the wolf-mother said, ‘Daughter, I know well that it is not for

thyself thou demandest food, but for the helpless beings among whom thou

dost dwell. What is it to me that they starve? Have they not taken thee

from me, and dost thou not blush when thou rememberest that thou wast

once a wolf?’

 

“‘Not so,’ answered the maid; ‘I blush rather for the cruel heart that a

wolf-skin can cover. Give me now my wolf-skin robe: I will find food for

those helpless little ones.’

 

“Then hastily snatching the robe she flung it over her shoulders, and

she was changed into a wolf, and, speeding away across the snow, she was

quickly lost to view in the distance. Then the old wolf-mother sprang to

the door of her cave and sent a cry of alarm and anguish up the valley.

It entered the door of the Wolf-King’s den, and awoke the sleeping

monarch. He ran with great leaps down the valley to his mother’s home.

She quickly told him her story, and bemoaned her own and her son’s

selfishness.

 

“‘Thy sister will die, will die! And I, her mother, have sent her to her

death. She is all unused to the hunt, she will perish alone in the

bitter cold! Follow her! Bring her back!’

 

“Then the king ran swiftly down the valley, giving the hunting call as

he ran; and all the wolves of the pack awoke and called to each other:

‘The king will hunt to-day!’ And there was a gathering and mustering of

the strong ones of the tribe. And the king said, ‘Come, follow, follow

quickly, we are on the track of a wolf. I warn ye all, let no one harm

the stranger should we meet with it; for it is my royal sister, returned

to us once more!’

 

“Now the Wolf-Maiden ran long and far over the dim snow-covered plain,

but found nothing; for she was unused to the hunt, and knew not how to

track or to follow. Presently she drew near the great black forest,

wherein dwelt the Bear-King. But this she did not heed, for just on the

edge of the forest an antelope started up from the long, high grass and

brush, and sprang away among the great trees. The Wolf-Maiden followed

closely on its trail. She did not see the wicked eyes, cruel claws, or

gleaming teeth above her. Just as she sprang on the antelope, a blow

from the great bear’s paw struck her down. She sprang to her feet, all

the royal blood in her body aroused by the blow; but who could strive

against that terrible arm? Suddenly through the forest rang the royal

hunting call of the Wolf-King, and the great bear turned to face as

cruel a fate as he had planned for the Wolf-Maiden. Then came the

combat: terrible blows were given and taken, growls and snarls of rage,

the wild joy and glow of the battle. The Wolf-Maiden, forgetting all but

her wolf nature, joined in the struggle, and helped to drag the monster

to the ground.

 

“When the battle was over and the bear was dead, the pack withdrew to a

respectful distance, and formed a circle around the dead bear and

antelope. They watched the Wolf-King and his sister divide the spoil; a

large portion for the helpless children, a smaller portion for their

mother and themselves. And when they were served, the wolves closed in

around the carcasses and left scarcely the bones.

 

“The Wolf-Maiden returned no more to the Indian village; retaining her

wolf form, she abode with her own mother. But all through the cold of

the terrible winter, the wolves brought down the game, and supplied the

wants of the children; and when the winter was gone, and the birds sang

on the ridgepoles of the tepees, the Wolf-King, his mother, sister, and

tribe removed far to the north land. Ever after, the wolf was venerated

in the tribe and was chosen as their totem.”

 

 

 

 

X.

HE WAS A PRINCE.

 

 

The rain had poured down steadily all day. Max was tired and depressed,

for a slight cold made going out into the rain impossible. All the books

had been read and re-read. There was no one to amuse him but Candace,

the nurse, a mulatto woman of dignified and solemn mien, who always

reminded him of Thorwaldsen’s “Africa,” for her large eyes had a

far-away look, “As if she were remembering things,” Max said.

 

She was kind, but seldom talked to him; and as Max had no mother to tell

his thoughts to, they would sit for an hour at a time, dreaming their

own dreams, neither speaking to the other.

 

As the afternoon wore on, Max grew more and more restless and his sighs

more frequent. Nurse Candace glanced up from her sewing, but said

nothing.

 

Just then the great white cat, “Necho” by name, rose up from his dark

red velvet cushion, yawned wearily, stretched himself, and stepped with

stately grace from the room.

 

“Why! he walks like a prince,” said Max.

 

“He is a prince at night,” said Candace.

 

“Is he? How do you know?” eagerly asked Max.

 

“If I tell you, you must not let him suspect, even by your actions, that

you know,” said Candace, “or my punishment—” Here she broke off.

 

“I promise,” said Max.

 

“Well, it is as I tell you. All day long while the daylight lasts with

us he is under a spell. Once, in the olden days, his father, the king of

Egypt, caused to be put to death a great magician; but before his death

the magician laid a spell upon the great king’s only son, Prince Necho;

and this was it. When night came the prince and one attendant were to

depart to the westward, far over the unknown sea; and when they came to

the land of strangers, the prince must take the form of some animal.

 

“When the queen heard this she was filled with despair, and implored the

great cat-headed goddess, Pacht, to have mercy on her son; but all the

comfort the goddess promised her was, that the spell upon the prince

should last only from darkness to daylight; that he might take the form

of the animal sacred to the goddess, the cat; because of his pure and

blameless life he should be a white cat; that while he was under the

spell he should have a kind and loving master, and his faithful

attendant should be with him.

 

“Now, when night is settling down over us, and the sun-god is rising

over Egypt, great Prince Necho returns to his own. Not to the present

Egypt, with its lonely ruins and its race of slaves, but to a great and

glorious realm; for the curtain that hides the past is lifted.”

 

“And do you go with him? Are you a great princess in Egypt? Oh, may I

not go too? Please, please, Candace, let me.”

 

“Peace! child of the stranger,” said Candace sternly. “Is it not