by Bob Hartman
The little girl smiled, and pulled the blankets tight up to her chin. Then she made another wish, and shut her eyes, and set off to dream.
Three Months’ Night
The pine trees stood tall. The mountains behind them stood taller still. And, in a clearing in the midst of the trees, the animals gathered together.
Their leader, the coyote, perched on a wide flat rock and howled, ‘A-Woo,’ so everyone could hear.
‘My friends,’ he called, ‘we have a decision to make. Think hard. Take your time. And then tell me. How long should each day be?’
The animals looked at one another. They grunted and squealed and roared. Such a hard decision! Then they became quiet, and set to thinking.
After a long while, the grizzly bear raised one fat, furry paw and slowly wiggled his four sharp claws.
‘I think…’ he yawned. ‘I think that each day should be three months long. And the same with each night. That way…’ he yawned again, ‘we could get all the sleep we need.’
The animals were shocked by the bear’s answer, and the grunting and squealing and roaring started all over again. But it was the chipmunk who spoke up most loudly.
‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ he chattered. ‘If I slept for three months, I would starve to death! I say we keep things just as they are – with one day followed by one night.’
The owl and the weasel and many of the other animals agreed. But the grizzly stood his ground, and soon the woods were filled with the noise of the animals’ argument.
‘Enough. A-Woo. Enough!’ the coyote howled. ‘We will settle this matter with a contest. Chipmunk, you must repeat, over and over again, the words, “One day, one night”, for that is what you want.
‘As for you, Grizzly Bear, you must say, “Three months’ day, three months’ night” over and over again – for that is what you want. And the first one to say the wrong thing will be the loser. Now clear your throats, take your places, and let the contest begin!’
Chipmunk scurried up into the branches of a tall pine tree. Grizzly Bear settled himself on the ground and leaned against the trunk. And then they started.
‘One day, one night, one day, one night,’ the chipmunk chattered, faster and faster in his squeaky little voice.
‘Three months’ day, three months’ night,’ the bear repeated slowly, but he was sleepy and tired and found it hard to concentrate.
‘One day, one night, one day, one night, one day, one night,’ the chipmunk chattered faster than ever, and it was all the bear could do to hear his own grizzly voice. And that’s when it happened. Instead of saying, ‘Three months’ day, three months’ night,’ the poor bear mumbled, ‘One day, one night.’ And the contest was over!
‘Chipmunk has won. A-Woo!’ the coyote howled. ‘And so it shall be one day and one night forevermore.’
But the grizzly bear refused to give in. ‘I need three months’ sleep,’ he growled, ‘and I intend to get it!’
He stood up and swung an angry paw at Chipmunk. But Chipmunk darted away, so that the bear’s claws left nothing but four long scratches down his back. Then the bear sulked away, hid himself in a cave, and settled down for a long winter’s sleep.
And, to this day, every chipmunk bears the marks of Grizzly’s claws on his back. And each winter every grizzly goes to sleep for a three months’ night.
Arion and the Dolphin
When Arion played his harp, everybody listened.
The Greek men put down their tools. The Greek women put down their pots. The Greek children put down their toys. And even the birds in the air, the animals in the field, and the fish in the sea stopped their screeching and scratching and splashing to listen to his beautiful songs.
Arion was hardly more than a boy, but no one played the harp more skilfully or sang so sweetly. The king himself had said so! And so it came as no surprise when Arion decided to leave his homeland and sail for the island of Sicily, hoping to find fame and fortune there as well.
It happened, of course.
When Arion played, everybody listened.
The Sicilian men put down their tools. The Sicilian women put down their pots. The Sicilian children put down their toys. And, along with the birds and the fish and the animals, they marvelled at the Greek lad’s lovely songs.
The people of Sicily showered Arion with silver and gold and jewels. So it was as a rich young man that he boarded a Greek ship and set sail for home.
The captain of the ship knew all about Arion, but he cared little for music and a great deal for gold. So, when they had sailed far from shore, he made his sailors grab hold of Arion and drag him to the side of the ship.
‘You are a rich young man, Arion,’ the captain laughed, ‘but not for long. My men are going to kill you and throw your body overboard, and we shall have your treasure!’
‘Dear captain,’ Arion sighed, ‘if your heart is set on ending my life and stealing my fortune, there is nothing I can do to stop you. But at least grant me one wish before I die. Let me play my harp one last time.’
The captain shrugged. ‘What harm can it do?’ And he tossed the musician his harp.
Arion began to play. Arion began to sing. And, just as he expected, everybody listened.
The sailors put down their ropes. The captain put down his sword. Even the gulls above and the fish below stopped their swooping and swimming to listen to the lad’s last beautiful song.
But, just as the song was about to finish, Arion grabbed his harp tightly and flung himself from the boat and into the bright blue sea.
‘Don’t worry about him, lads,’ the captain called. ‘No one could swim to shore from here. The sharks will see to that. Now, let’s have a look at his treasure!’
Arion, meanwhile, began to sink, for he could not hold on to his harp and swim. Down and down, deeper and deeper, sank the poor singer.
And then, suddenly, he stopped! And instead of sinking further, he began to rise, up and up, higher and higher, until his head popped out of the waves and he could breathe again!
Arion looked down and was surprised to find himself sitting on the back of a dolphin – a dolphin who had heard Arion’s beautiful song and was determined that such a singer should not drown.
Arion wrapped his legs round the dolphin’s sides. He wrapped one arm round its neck. And the dolphin carried Arion through the waves, all the way back to Greece.
Arion thanked his new friend and waved goodbye. And the dolphin leaped up out of the sea, clapping and clacking his farewell. Then Arion tucked his harp under his arm and set off to see the king.
When he arrived at the palace, the king was busy – in fact, he was talking with the very sailors who had stolen Arion’s treasure. So Arion asked the guard to keep silent, while he slipped quietly behind a stone pillar to listen.
‘It was a sorry thing, Your Majesty,’ the captain explained. ‘The storm came upon us like a fierce beast and, before we could do a thing, poor Arion and his treasure were swept overboard.’
The king sadly shook his head. ‘I can’t believe it,’ he sighed. ‘I shall never hear that beautiful voice and harp again.’
But just as the king finished, the sound of a harp came floating out from the back of the hall. And it was followed by Arion’s beautiful voice.
The guards put down their spears. The king put down his royal staff. And the sailors fell trembling to their knees.
Arion slipped out from behind the pillar and walked slowly towards the throne. The king clapped his hands for joy.
‘You’re alive!’ he shouted. ‘You did not drown! What power saved you from the terrible storm?’
‘There was no storm, Your Majesty.’ Arion explained. And then he told the king all about the captain’s wicked plan.
Soldiers were sent to the ship and, sure enough, they found Arion’s treasure. So the captain and his crew were packed off to prison. Arion’s treasure was returned to him. And the king ordered his sculptors to make a statue of a boy on the back of a dolphin
– in memory of Arion and his amazing rescue.
Rabbit and Tiger Save the World
Tiger was huge! Tiger was fierce! Tiger had sharp claws, even sharper teeth, and beautiful orange-and-black striped skin. But, for all his good looks, Tiger was not very clever.
Rabbit, on the other hand, was small. And not very scary at all. Rabbit had long ears, a powder-puff tail and a brain that was every bit as quick as his long, strong legs.
Tiger wanted to eat Rabbit, more than anything else in the world!
And, more than anything else in the world, Rabbit did not want to be eaten!
One day, as Rabbit was out nibbling daisies for his dinner, Tiger surprised him. Tiger chased Rabbit through the jungle and across the fields and into a deep, rocky ravine.
There was no way out. Rabbit was trapped! So he stopped using his quick legs and used his quick brain instead. He threw himself, arms outstretched, against a huge boulder at the end of the ravine, and waited for Tiger to catch up.
‘Now I’ve got you!’ Tiger roared. ‘And I can almost taste the rabbit stew.’
‘You may eat me if you like,’ said Rabbit, slowly, ‘but first you will have to tear me away from this boulder I am holding up.’
‘And what would be wrong with that?’ asked the puzzled Tiger.
‘Well, this boulder holds up the whole world,’ answered Rabbit. ‘I saw it start to roll away, and fortunately I was here to stop it. But if I move away from here, it will start rolling again – and take the whole world with it!’
‘Oh dear!’ said Tiger, ‘I had no idea.’
‘I’ll tell you what,’ grinned Rabbit. ‘Why don’t you hold it up for me and let me run and get some help.’
‘Certainly,’ said the worried Tiger. ‘We don’t want the world to roll away!’
So Rabbit ran. But he didn’t run for help. He ran straight to his rabbit hidey-hole, laughing all the way – and safe at last.
The Shepherd and the Clever Princess
Princess Vendla could speak any language. Any language in the world!
German, French.
Italian, Polish.
Chinese, Zulu, English.
She could understand them all.
Her father, the king, was proud of her. So proud, in fact, that he set a challenge for all the young men in his kingdom.
‘If you want to marry my daughter,’ he announced, ‘you must first speak to her in a language she does not understand. Succeed, and she shall be your bride. Fail, and you shall be thrown into the sea!’
Many men tried. Wise men. Rich men. Handsome men. But, sadly, each and every one of them ended up in the sea.
And then, one day, Timo the shepherd boy decided that it was time to find a wife.
‘They say the princess is quite pretty,’ he thought. ‘So I shall take up the king’s challenge and make her my bride.’
Now Timo was neither wise, nor rich, nor handsome. In fact, he was a dreamer, who wandered through the forests and across the fields chatting with the birds and whispering to the animals.
Timo set off for the king’s palace. He hadn’t gone far when he heard a noise – a chippery, chirping noise – the cry of a little bird. But the noise wasn’t falling down from somewhere high in the trees. No, it was leaping up from somewhere on the ground.
Timo followed the noise. He brushed away branches and old, dead leaves. And soon he found it – a sad young sparrow with a badly broken wing.
‘Poor little fellow,’ Timo said. ‘You’re lucky you haven’t been gobbled up by a fox or a cat. Why don’t you ride with me for a while?’
And Timo picked up the little sparrow and set him gently in his big leather pouch.
Timo walked a little further and soon he heard another noise – a scritchity, scratching noise that could come only from a squirrel.
‘I’m caught. I’m caught in a trap!’ the little squirrel chattered. ‘Won’t somebody please help me?’
Timo was there in a minute. He loosened the sharp wire from around the squirrel’s leg. Then he picked him up and put him in his pouch next to the sparrow.
‘You can rest there,’ he whispered to the squirrel, ‘until your leg is better.’
Timo started off for the king’s palace, once again, but it wasn’t long before he heard yet another noise – a crawing, caw-cawing noise, high above his head.
‘What’s the matter, Mr Crow?’ Timo called.
‘I have lost my wife!’ cawed the crow. ‘The king’s hunters were out in the woods, and I fear they have taken her. I have been flying in circles for hours and I cannot find her.’
‘Why not come with me?’ said Timo. ‘I am going to the king’s palace this very day. You can hop into my pouch and ride along.’
The tired crow gladly accepted Timo’s offer, and before long, the shepherd boy and his secret companions were at the palace gates.
‘Who goes there?’ shouted the watchman.
‘It’s Timo, the shepherd boy. I have come to marry the princess.’
‘You mean you’ve come to be tossed into the sea!’ the watchman laughed. ‘Men wiser and richer than yourself have found their way there already.’
‘Perhaps,’ Timo nodded. ‘But they did not know what I know – a language that Princess Vendla will not understand.’
The watchman let Timo into the palace, and then led him to the king.
‘Your Majesty,’ Timo bowed, ‘I have come to take up your challenge. I believe I know a language that your daughter will not understand.’
The king could not keep himself from laughing.
‘But you are just a poor shepherd boy,’ he chuckled. ‘And my daughter has studied every language in the world! The sea is very cold at this time of year. Are you sure you want to accept my challenge?’
‘I do,’ Timo nodded. ‘I want to see the princess.’
The king called for his daughter, and she was the most beautiful girl young Timo had ever seen. He bowed to the princess, then he reached his hand into his leather pouch and gently scratched the little sparrow’s head.
‘Chip-chirp-chippery-chirp,’ said the sparrow.
Timo looked at Princess Vendla. ‘Can you tell me what that means?’ he asked.
Princess Vendla looked very worried. ‘Why, no,’ she said slowly, ‘I can’t.’
‘It means: “Thank you for rescuing me, Timo. My wing is much better now.”’
Timo reached his hand into his pouch again, and this time he tickled the squirrel under his furry chin.
‘Scrick-scrack-scrickity-scrack,’ said the squirrel. And again the princess could only shake her head.
‘This is an easy one,’ said Timo. ‘It means: “Thank you for the ride and for saving me from the hunter’s trap.”’
Timo reached his hand once more into his pouch, but before he could nudge the crow, the king stood up and shouted, ‘Enough! I am ashamed of you, daughter. I gave you the finest teachers in the world and yet this ignorant shepherd boy knows more than you!’
‘I’m sorry, Father,’ the princess sobbed, ‘perhaps I am not so clever as you thought.’
‘Oh no, princess,’ said Timo. ‘You are very clever indeed. Clever enough to admit that there are things you still must learn. That is the beginning of real wisdom, and I admire you all the more for it.’
The king smiled when he heard these words. He announced that Timo and Vendla should be married that very day, and everyone in the palace cheered.
So it was that Timo came to live at the palace. And, with the help of the sparrow, the squirrel, the crows, and all his other woodland friends, he taught Princess Vendla the language of the animals.
And they all lived happily ever after.
Tortoise Brings Food
The sun was hot. The earth was dry. There had been no rain for many months. And now there was no food. The animals were very hungry.
Lion, king of all the beasts, called his thin and tired friends together under the shade of a tall, gnarled tree.
‘The
legends say this is a magic tree,’ he roared, ‘which will give us all the food we need – if only we can say its secret name. But there is only one person who knows that name – the old man who lives at the top of the mountain.’
‘Then we must go to him,’ trumpeted Elephant, ‘as quickly as we can! Before we all starve to death.’
‘I’ll go,’ said Tortoise, slowly. And everyone just stopped and stared.
‘Don’t be silly,’ roared Lion. ‘It would take you for ever! No, we shall send Hare to find the name of the tree. He will be back in no time.’
Hare hurried up the side of the mountain, his long ears blown back against the side of his head. He leaped. He scampered. He raced. And soon he was face to face with the old man.
‘Please tell me the name of the magic tree,’ he begged. ‘The animals are very hungry.’
The old man looked. The old man listened. And then the old man said one word and one word only: ‘Uwungelema.’
‘Thank you,’ panted Hare. And then he hurried back down the mountainside.
He leaped. He scampered. He raced. All the while repeating to himself the name of the magic tree: ‘Uwungelema, Uwungelema, Uwungelema.’
But, just as he reached the bottom of the mountain, Hare hurried – CRASH! – right into the side of a huge anthill, and knocked himself silly.
So silly, in fact, that by the time he had staggered back to all the other animals, he had completely forgotten the name of the magic tree!
‘We must send someone else,’ roared Lion. ‘Someone who will not forget.’
‘I’ll go,’ said Tortoise, again.
And this time, the other animals laughed.
‘We’ll have starved to death by the time you get back,’ chuckled Lion. ‘No, we shall send Elephant.’
Elephant hurried up the side of the mountain, his long trunk swaying back and forth. He tramped. He trundled. He tromped. And soon he was face to face with the old man.
‘Please tell me the name of the magic tree,’ he begged. ‘The animals are very hungry.’
