CHAPTER XII.
NOW, if we had looked into the hermit's cave a few days after this, weshould have seen a very pleasant sight. The good old man was sitting upon his narrow couch, with his lame leg on a stool before him. On anotherstool sat our worthy friend Bruin, with a backgammon-board on his knees,and the two were deep in the mysteries of Russian backgammon.
"Doublets!" said the hermit, throwing the dice.
"Dear, dear, what luck you do have!" said the bear. "Double sixes again!That takes you out, doesn't it?"
"Yes," said the hermit, "this finishes the game and the rubber. But justremember, my friend, how you beat me yesterday. I was gammoned over andover again, with never a doublet to save me from ruin."
"To be sure!" said Bruin, with a chuckle. "To be sure! yesterday was oneof my good days. And so to-day you have gammoned me back again. Isuppose that is why the game is called back-gammon, hey?"
"Possibly!" replied the hermit, smiling.
"And how have you been in the habit of playing?" continued the bear."You spoke of playing last winter, you know. Whom did you play with, forexample?"
"With myself," said the hermit,--"the right hand against the left. Itaught my crow the game once, but it didn't work very well. He could notlift the dice-box, and could only throw the dice by running against thebox, and upsetting it. This was apt to disarrange the pieces, you see;and as he would not trust me to throw for him, we gave it up."
"I see!" said Bruin, thoughtfully. "And what else did you do in the wayof amusement?"
"I read, chiefly," replied the old man. "You see I have a good manybooks, and they are all good ones, which will bear reading many times."
"Humph!" said the bear. "That is _one_ thing about you people that Icannot understand,--the reading of books. Seems so senseless, you know,when you can use your eyes for other things. But, tell me," he added,"have you never thought of trying our way of passing the winter? It iscertainly much the best way, when one is alone. Choose a comfortableplace, like this, for example, curl yourself up in the warmest corner,and there you are, with nothing to do but to sleep till spring comesagain."
"I am afraid I could not do that," said the hermit with a smile. "We aremade differently, you see. I cannot sleep more than a few hours at atime, at any season of the year."
"Not if you sucked your paw?" inquired the bear, eagerly. "That makesall the difference, you know. Have you ever _tried_ sucking your paw?"
The hermit was forced to admit that he never had.
"Ah! well, you really must try it some day," said Bruin. "There isnothing like it, after all. Nothing like it! I will confess to you," headded in a low tone, and looking cautiously about to make sure that theywere alone, "that I have missed it sadly this winter. In most respectsthis has been the happiest season of my life, and I have enjoyed it morethan I can tell you; but still there are times,--when I am tired, youknow, or the weather is dull, or Coon is a little trying, as he issometimes,--times when I feel as if I would give a great deal for aquiet corner where I could suck my paw and sleep for a week or two."
"Couldn't you manage it, somehow?" asked the hermit, sympathetically.
"Oh, no! no!" replied the good bear, decidedly. "Coon thinks the Madamwould not like it. He is very genteel, you know,--very genteel indeed,Coon is; and he says it wouldn't be at all 'the thing' for me to suckmy paw anywhere about the place. I never know just what 'thing' he meanswhen he says that, but it's a favorite expression of his; and hecertainly knows a great deal about good manners. Besides," he added,more cheerfully, "there is always plenty of work to do, and that is thebest thing to keep one awake. But now, Mr. Baldhead, it is time for yourdinner, sir; and here am I sitting and talking, when I ought to bewarming your broth!"
With these words the excellent bear arose, put away the backgammonboard, and proceeded to build up the fire, hang the kettle, and put thebroth on to warm, all as deftly as if he had been a cook all his life.He stirred and tasted, shook his head, tasted again, and then said,--
"You haven't the top of a young pine-tree anywhere about the house, Isuppose? It would give this broth such a nice flavor."
"I am afraid not!" said the hermit, laughing. "I don't generally keep alarge stock of such things on hand. But I fancy the broth will be verygood without it, to judge from the last I had."
The bear still looked dissatisfied. "Do you ever put frogs in yourbroth?" he asked, presently. "Whole ones, you know, rolled in a batter,just like dumplings?"
"_No!_" said the hermit, quickly and decidedly. "I am quite sure Ishould not like them, thank you,--though it was very kind of you to makethe suggestion!" he added, seeing that Bruin looked disappointed.
"You have no idea how nice they are," said the good bear, rather sadly."But you are so strange, you people! I never could induce Toto or Madamto try them, either. I invented the soup myself,--at least thefrog-dumpling part of it,--and made it one day as a little surprise forthem. But when I told them what the dumplings were, Toto choked androlled on the floor, and Madam was quite ill at the very thought, thoughshe had not begun to eat her soup. So Coon and Cracker and I had it allto ourselves, and uncommonly good it was. It's a pity for people to beso prejudiced."
The good hermit was choking a little himself, for some reason or other,but he looked very grave when Bruin turned toward him for assent, andsaid, "Quite so!" which is a safe remark under most circumstances.
The broth being now ready, the bear proceeded to arrange a tray neatly,and set it before his patient, who took up his wooden spoon and fell towith right good-will. The good bear stood watching him with greatsatisfaction; and it was really a pity that there was no one there towatch the bear himself, for as he stood there with a clean cloth overhis arm, his head on one side, and his honest face beaming with prideand pleasure, he was very well worth looking at.
At this moment a sharp cry of terror was heard outside, then a quickwhirr of wings, and the next moment the wood-pigeon darted into thecave, closely pursued by a large hawk. Poor Pigeon Pretty! She was quiteexhausted, and with one more piteous cry she fell fainting at Bruin'sfeet. In another instant the hawk would have pounced upon her, but thatinstant never came for the winged marauder. Instead, something orsomebody pounced on _him_. A thick white covering enveloped him,entangling his claws, binding down his wings, well-nigh stifling him. Hefelt himself seized in an iron grasp and lifted bodily into the air,while a deep, stern voice exclaimed,--
"Now, sir! have you anything to say for yourself, before I wring yourneck?"
Then the covering was drawn back from his head, and he found himselfface to face with the great bear, whom he knew perfectly well by sight.But he was a bold fellow, too well used to danger to shrink from it,even in so terrible a form as this; and his fierce yellow eyes met thestern gaze of his captor without shrinking.
"Have you anything to say?" repeated the bear, "before I wring your uglyneck?"
"No!" replied the hawk, sullenly, "wring away."
This answer rather disconcerted our friend Bruin, who, as he sometimessaid sadly to himself, had "lost all taste for killing;" so he onlyshook Master Hawk a little, and said,--
"Do you know of any reason why your neck should _not_ be wrung?"
"None in life!" answered the hawk. "Wring away, I tell you! Are youafraid, you great clumsy monster?"
"I'll soon show you whether I am afraid or not!" said the bear, sternly."Why did you chase my pigeon?"
"'Cause I wanted to eat her!" was the defiant reply. "If _you_ had hadnothing to eat for a week, you'd have eaten her long before this, I'llbe bound!"
"Nothing to eat for a week!" repeated the bear, incredulously. "Why wasthat?"
"'Cause there wasn't anything, stupid!" said the other.
Here Bruin began to rub his nose with his disengaged paw, and to lookhelplessly about him, as he always did when disturbed in mind.
"Now--now--now!" he exclaimed, "you hawk, what do you mean by that?Couldn't you dig for roots?"
The hawk stared. "Dig for roo
ts?" he repeated, contemptuously. "Look atmy beak! Do you think I can dig with that?"
"It _is_ rather short," said Bruin; "but--yes! why, of course, _any one_can dig, if he wants to."
"Ask that old thing," said the hawk, nodding toward the hermit, "whether_he_ ever dug with his beak; and it's twice as long as mine."
"Of course he has!" replied Bruin, promptly; but then he faltered, forit suddenly occurred to him that he had never seen either Toto or theMadam dig with their noses; and it was with some hesitation that heasked:
"Mr. Baldhead--excuse me! but--a--have you ever tried digging for rootsin the ground--with your beak--I mean, nose?"
The hermit looked up gravely, as he sat with Pigeon Pretty on his knee."No, my friend," he said with great seriousness, "I have never triedit, and doubt if I could do it. I can dig with my hands, though," headded, seeing the good bear look more and more puzzled.
"Ah, yes!" said Bruin. "But you see this bird has no hands, though hehas very ugly claws; so that doesn't help-- Well!" he cried, breakingoff short, and once more addressing the hawk. "I don't see anything forit _but_ to wring your neck, do you? After all, it will keep you frombeing hungry again."
But here the soft voice of the wood-pigeon interposed. "No, no! Bruin,dear," cried the gentle bird. "Give him something to eat, and let himgo. If he had eaten nothing for a week, I am sure he was not to blamefor pursuing the first eatable creature he saw. Remember," she added ina lower tone, which only the bear could hear, "that before this winter,any of us would have done the same."
Bruin scratched his head helplessly; the hawk turned his yellow eyes onPigeon Pretty with a strange look, but said nothing. But now the hermitsaw that it was time for him to interfere.
"Pigeon Pretty," he said, "you are right, as usual. Bruin, my friend,bring your prisoner here, and let him finish this excellent broth, intowhich I have crumbled some bread. I will answer for Master Hawk's goodbehavior, for the present at least," he added, "for I know that he comesof an old and honorable family."
Wonder of wonders! In five minutes the hawk was sitting quietly on thehermit's knee, sipping broth, pursuing the floating bits of bread in thebowl, and submitting to have his soft black plumage stroked, with thebest grace in the world. On the good man's other knee sat Pigeon Pretty,now quite recovered from her fright and fatigue, her soft eyes beamingwith pleasure; while Bruin squatted opposite them, looking from one tothe other, and assuring himself over and over again that Pigeon Prettywas "a most astonishing bird! 'pon my word, a _most_ astonishing bird!"
His meal ended, the stranger wiped his beak politely on his feathers,plumed himself, and thanked his hosts for their hospitality, with astately courtesy which contrasted strangely with his former sullen andferocious bearing. The fierce glare was gone from his eyes, which were,however, still strangely bright; and with his glossy plumage smooth, andhis head held proudly erect, he really was a noble-looking bird.
"Long is it, indeed," he said, "since any one has spoken a kind word toGer-Falcon. It will not be forgotten, I assure you. We are a wild andlawless family,--our beak against every one, and every one's clawagainst us,--and yet, as you observed, Sir Baldhead, we are an old andhonorable race. Alas! for the brave, brave days of old, when my sireswere the honored companions of kings and princes! My grandfather seventytimes removed was served by an emperor, the obsequious monarch carryinghim every day on his own wrist to the hunting. He ate from a goldendish, and wore a collar of gems about his neck. Ah, me! what would bethe feelings of that noble ancestor if he could see his descendant ahunted outlaw, persecuted by the sons of those very men who once courtedand caressed him, and supporting a precarious existence by the ignoblespoils of barn-yards and hen-roosts!"
The hawk paused, overcome by these recollections of past glory, and thegood bear said kindly,--
"Dear! dear! very sad, I'm sure. And how did this melancholy change comeabout, pray?"
"Fashion, my dear sir!" replied the hawk, "ignoble fashion! The race ofmen degenerated, and occupied themselves with less lofty sports thanhawking. My family, left to themselves, knew not what to do. They hadbeen trained to pursue, to overtake, to slay, through long generations;they were unfitted for anything else. But when they began to lead thislife on their own account, man, always ungrateful, turned upon them, andpersecuted them for the very deeds which had once been the delight andpride of his fickle race. So we fell from our high estate, lower andlower, till the present representative of the Ger-Falcon is the poorcreature you behold before you."
The hawk bowed in proud humility, and his hearers all felt, perhaps,much more sorry for him than he deserved. The wood-pigeon was about toask something more about his famous ancestors, when a shadow darkenedthe mouth of the cave, and Toto made his appearance, with the crowperched on his shoulder.
"Well, Mr. Baldhead!" he cried in his fresh, cheery voice, "how are youto-day, sir? Better still? I have brought you some--hello! who is this?"And catching sight of the stranger, he stopped short, and looked at thebear for an explanation.
"This is Mr. Ger-Falcon, Toto," said Bruin. "My friend Toto, Mr.Falcon." Toto nodded, and the hawk made him a stately bow; but the twolooked distrustfully at each other, and neither seemed inclined to makeany advances. Bruin continued,--
"Mr. Falcon came here in a--well, not in a friendly way at all, I mustsay. But he is in a very different frame of mind, now, and I trust therewill be no further trouble."
"Do you ever change your name, sir?" asked Toto, abruptly, addressingthe hawk.
"I do not understand you, sir!" replied the latter, haughtily. "I haveno reason to be ashamed of my name."
"Perhaps not!" said the boy. "And yet I am tolerably sure that Mr.Ger-Falcon is no other than Mr. Chicken Hawkon, and that it was he whotried to carry off my Black Spanish chickens yesterday morning."
"You are right, sir!" said the hawk. "You are quite right! I wasstarving, and the chickens presented themselves to me wholly in thelight of food. May I ask for what purpose you keep chickens, sir?"
"Why, we eat them when they grow up," said Toto; "but--"
"Ah, precisely!" murmured the hawk. "You eat them also. I thought so."
"But we don't steal other people's chickens," said the boy, "we eat ourown."
"Precisely!" said the hawk, again. "You eat the tame, confidingcreatures who feed from your hand, and stretch their necks trustfully tomeet their doom. I, on the contrary, when the pangs of hunger force meto snatch a morsel of food to save me from starvation, snatch it fromstrangers, not from my friends."
Toto was about to make a hasty reply, but the bear, with a motion of hispaw, checked him, and said gravely to the hawk,--
"Come, come! Mr. Falcon, I cannot have any dispute of this kind. Thereis some truth in what you say, and I have no doubt that emperors andother disreputable people have had a large share in forming the badhabits into which you and all your family have fallen. But those habitsmust be changed, sir, if you intend to remain in this forest. You mustnot meddle with Toto's chickens; you must not chase quiet and harmlessbirds. You must, in short, become a respectable and law-abiding bird,instead of a robber and a murderer."
"All very fine!" said the hawk, angrily. "But how am I to live, pray? Ican be 'respectable,' as you call it, in summer; but in weather likethis--"
"That can be easily managed," said the kind hermit. "You can stay withme, Falcon. I shall soon be able to shift for myself, and I will gladlyundertake to feed you until the snow and frost are gone. You will be acompanion for my crow-- By the way, where is my crow? Surely he came inwith you, Toto?"
"He did," said Toto, "but he hopped off the moment we entered. Didn'tlike the looks of the visitor, I fancy," he added in a low tone.
Search was made, and finally the crow was discovered huddled together, adisconsolate little bunch of black feathers, in the darkest corner ofthe cave.
"Come, Jim!" cried Toto, who was the first to catch sight of him. "Comeout, old fellow! Why are you rumpling and humping yourself up in thatabsurd
fashion?"
"Is he gone?" asked the crow, opening one eye a very little way, andlifting his head a fraction of an inch from the mass of feathers inwhich it was buried. "Good Toto, kind Toto, is he gone? I would not beeaten to-day, Toto, if it could be avoided. _Did_ you say he was gone?"
"If you mean the hawk," said Toto, "he is _not_ gone; and what is more,he isn't going, for your master has asked him to stay the rest of thewinter. But cheer up, old boy! he won't hurt you. Bruin has bound himover to keep the peace, and you must come out and make the best of it."
The unhappy crow begged and protested, but all in vain. Toto caught himup, laughing, and carried him to his master, who set him on his knee,and smoothed his rumpled plumage kindly. The hawk, who was highlygratified by the hermit's invitation, put on his most gracious manner,and soon convinced the crow that he meant him no harm.
"A member of the ancient family of Corvus!" he exclaimed."Contemporaries, and probably friends, of the early Falcons. Let us alsobe friends, dear sir; and let the names of James Crow and Ger-Falcon godown together to posterity."
But now Bruin and Pigeon Pretty were eager to hear all the home newsfrom the cottage. They listened with breathless interest to Toto'saccount of the attempted robbery, and of Coon's noble "defence of thecastle," as the boy called it. Miss Mary also received her full share ofthe credit, nor was the kettle excluded from honorable mention. When allwas told, Toto proceeded to unpack the basket he had brought, whichcontained gingerbread, eggs, apples, and a large can of butter-milkmarked "For Bruin." Many were the joyous exclamations called forth bythis present of good cheer; and it seemed as if the old hermit could notsufficiently express his gratitude to Toto and his good grandmother.
"Oh, don't!" cried the boy, half distressed by the oft-repeated thanks."If you only knew how we _like_ it! It's so jolly, you know. Besides,"he added, "I want you to do something for _me_ now, Mr. Baldhead, sothat will turn the tables. A shower is coming up, and it is early yet,so I need not go home for an hour. So, will you not tell us a story? Weare very fond of stories,--Bruin and Pigeon Pretty and I."
"A story! a story!" cried every one, eagerly.
"A story, hey?" said the good hermit, smiling. "With all my heart, dearlad! And what shall the story be about?"
"About fairies!" replied Toto, promptly. "I have not heard a fairy storyfor a long time."
"So be it!" said the hermit, after a moment's reflection. "When I was aboy like you, Toto, I lived in Ireland, the very home of the fairy-folk;so I know more about them than most people, perhaps, and this is anIrish fairy story that I am going to tell you."
And settling himself comfortably on his moss-pillows, the hermit beganthe story of--