by Bob Hartman
‘There is no time!’ he barked. ‘Come with me.’ And he took the boy by the hand and set fire to the fields on the right.
The flames burst orange and yellow and white against the night, and the boy began to weep.
‘Grandfather, are you mad? This is everything you own!’
But the old man said nothing. He looked down at the village, then hurried to the remaining fields and set the torch to them, as well. The sky was filled with sparks and smoke and the little boy was sobbing now.
‘Please, Grandfather! Stop, Grandfather! There will be nothing left!’
Just then, a bell sounded, ringing from the temple in the village below. And soon, streaming up the terraced hill, came the villagers – young women, old women, boys and girls, fathers and grandfathers, babies on their backs and buckets in their hands. All four hundred of them – running to help put out the fire!
And, just as they reached the burning fields, the wave struck the village below.
It sounded like thunder.
It sounded like cannon fire.
It sounded like the hoof-beats of ten thousand horses.
It destroyed everything in its path, and when at last it rumbled and rolled back out to sea, there was not a single house left standing.
The people looked in horror at the ruins of their village. But when at last they turned to face the fields, they were gone as well – burned to the ground.
Hamaguchi’s grandson grabbed him round the waist and, sobbing still, asked the question everyone else wanted to hear.
‘Why, Grandfather? Why did you burn down your precious fields?’
‘Don’t you see?’ the old man said to the crowd. ‘I had to find some way to warn you – to lead you out of harm’s way. For, as precious as my fields are to me, each and every one of you is more precious still.’
And with that, Hamaguchi invited them all to stay in his house until the village was rebuilt.
The old man lived many more years, but when, at last, he died, the people built a little shrine in their village, in memory of the lord who sacrificed all he had to save them from the terrible wave.
Tiger and the Storm
One evening, just as it was turning dark, Rabbit wandered out into the jungle, together with his wife and their friends, Owl and Dog.
Along the way, they spotted some fallen vines. So they stopped and gathered up the vines, hoping to weave them into a length of good, strong rope.
Suddenly, Rabbit heard something: the twitch of a tail, a long, low growl, the crush of a strong, striped paw.
‘Tiger is coming,’ he whispered to the others. ‘Quick, hide behind that rock. And I will deal with him.’
The others did as Rabbit said and, just a moment later, Tiger burst out of the bushes.
‘Aha!’ he roared. ‘I have you cornered once again. There is no way you can escape this time!’
‘Oh dear,’ said Rabbit sadly. ‘You have such bad timing, Tiger. Haven’t you heard? There is a great storm coming this way – a hurricane, I believe – and I was just tying myself to this tree so I would not be blown away. If you have any sense, I suggest you do the same.’
‘Nonsense!’ Tiger roared. ‘This is just another one of your tricks. You have made a fool of me before, but I will not be fooled again!’
‘All right,’ Rabbit sighed. ‘Eat me if you like. But before you have finished, the storm will blow you clear across the jungle. Listen,’ (and he said this in the direction of the rock) ‘you can hear the pitter-patter of rain even now.’
Rabbit’s wife was listening. So she began to thump the ground with her big back legs: pitter-patter, pitter-patter, pitter-patter.
‘Oh dear,’ Tiger paused. ‘Perhaps you are right, after all. But perhaps it is nothing more than a light shower! I will eat you now. I don’t mind getting wet.’
‘A light shower?’ Rabbit said quickly. ‘Then how is it that I hear the wind blowing up into a storm?’
It was Owl’s turn this time. He started to flap his big brown wings, and he called, ‘Hoo-hoo. Hoo-hoo. Hoo-hoo.’
‘Oh my!’ Tiger was shaking now. ‘I believe a storm is coming, after all. But I am sure I still have time to eat you!’
‘Perhaps,’ nodded Rabbit. ‘But then who will be left to help tie you to this tree? Listen, the wind is howling even harder now. The storm is almost here!’
And now Dog joined in, howling, ‘A-Woo! A-Woo! A-Woo!’
‘All right, then. All right,’ Tiger whimpered.
‘Quickly, tie me to the tree. And tie me tight!’
So Rabbit did just as Tiger asked. He wrapped the vines around Tiger’s striped legs and Tiger’s striped belly and he tied him to the tree. And all the while, his friends kept up their thumping and their hooting and their howling.
‘There you go,’ announced Rabbit, once Tiger was tied tightly to the tree. ‘That should keep you from going anywhere for a while.’
‘But what about you?’ Tiger asked.
‘Oh, don’t worry about me.’ Rabbit chuckled. ‘I feel very safe, now. I think the storm has passed us by. Listen.’
And suddenly, the thumping and the hooting and the howling came to an end. And Rabbit’s friends came out, chuckling, from behind the rock.
‘You’ve done it again!’ Tiger roared. ‘You’ve tricked me. And you’re in trouble, now!’
But when Tiger went to leap at Rabbit, he found that he could not move. No, not one inch – so tightly had Rabbit tied him to that tree!
‘Let me go! Let me go – NOW!’ Tiger roared.
But Rabbit just grinned.
‘I don’t think so,’ he said. ‘For if there is one thing more dangerous than a howling storm, it’s an angry, howling Tiger!’
And with that, he and his friends disappeared into the night – safe once more.
The Knee-High Man
Knee-High Man lived by a swamp, deep in the heart of Alabama.
He lived by himself, in a tiny, run-down shack, because he was ashamed of how small he was.
‘I’m tired of being little,’ he said to himself, one day. ‘I’m gonna find out how to get big!’
So he went to the biggest friend he knew. He went to see Mr Horse.
‘Mr Horse!’ he hollered. ‘Mr Horse, I want to be big, like you. Tell me what I have to do.’
Mr Horse munched thoughtfully on a mouthful of oats.
‘Well…’ he said slowly. ‘I always eat lots and lots of oats. Then I run and run – about twenty miles a day. That’s how I got big. Maybe that’ll work for you.’
‘Thank you,’ said Knee-High Man. Then he did just what Mr Horse said.
He ate oats till his stomach hurt.
He ran and ran till his little legs hurt.
But still he grew no bigger. No, not one little bit.
So he went to see his next-biggest friend. He went to see Mr Bull.
‘Mr Bull!’ he hollered. ‘Mr Bull, I want to be big, like you. Tell me what I have to do.’
Mr Bull munched patiently on a mouthful of grass.
‘Well…’ he grunted. ‘I chew up field after field of grass. Then I bellow and bellow – MOOO! – for all I’m worth. That’s how I got big. Maybe that’ll work for you.’
‘Thank you,’ said Knee-High Man. Then he did just what Mr Bull said.
He chewed grass till his teeth hurt. He bellowed – MOOO! – till his throat hurt.
But still he grew no bigger. No, not one little bit.
So he went to see the smartest friend he knew. He went to see Mr Hoot Owl.
‘Mr Hoot Owl!’ he hollered. ‘Mr Hoot Owl, I’m tired of being a little Knee-High Man. I want to be big! Please tell me what I have to do.’
Mr Hoot Owl blinked and ruffled his feathers and turned his big head round and round.
‘Hoo-hoo! Tell me, Mr Knee-High Man,’ he said, at last. ‘Why do you want to be big?’
‘Because I’m tired of always looking up at everyone,’ moaned Knee-High Man.
Mr Hoot
Owl blinked and ruffled his feathers again.
‘Hoo-hoo! Size isn’t everything,’ he said. ‘Can you climb a tree?’
‘Of course!’ answered Knee-High Man.
‘Then come on up here and join me,’ said the owl.
Knee-High Man climbed up that tree, as fast as any squirrel. Then he sat himself down on the branch beside Mr Hoot Owl.
‘Now look around,’ said Mr Hoot Owl. ‘What do you see?’
Knee-High Man looked. There was Mr Horse, running around his field. And over there was Mr Bull, bellowing for all he was worth. And neither of them looked any bigger than the biggest ant!
‘When you get tired of being small,’ said Mr Hoot Owl, ‘just climb up here. You’ll be the tallest thing around! And when you get tired of that, climb back down – and be satisfied with what you are.’
So that’s just what he did.
And he was never ashamed of being a Knee-High Man again.
The Clever Baker
Annie was a baker – the best in all Scotland. Shortbreads and buns and cakes – she made them all. And they were so delicious that no one ever left a crumb behind, on table or plate or floor.
Now this was fine for everyone but the fairies, who depended on those crumbs, and who had never had so much as a tiny taste of one of Annie’s famous cakes. So one bright morning, the Fairy King decided to do something about that. He hid himself among the wild flowers by the side of the road, and when Annie passed on her way to market, he sprinkled fairy dust in her eyes to make her fall fast asleep.
When Annie awoke, she was no longer on the road, but deep in fairyland, face to face with the Fairy King.
‘Annie!’ the King commanded. ‘Everyone has tasted your wonderful cakes. Everyone, but us! So from now on, you will stay here in fairyland and bake for us every day.’
‘Oh dear,’ thought Annie. But she didn’t show that she was worried, or even scared, for she was a clever woman. No, she set her mind, at once, to making a plan for her escape.
‘Very well,’ she said. ‘But if I am to bake you a cake, I will need ingredients – flour and milk, eggs and sugar and butter.’
‘Fetch them at once!’ commanded the Fairy King. So off the fairies flew, to Annie’s house. And back they flew, in a flash, with everything she needed.
‘Oh dear,’ Annie sighed, shaking her head (and still without a plan). ‘If I am to bake a cake, I will also need my tools – my pots and pans and pitchers and bowls and spoons.’
‘Fetch them, quickly!’ the Fairy King commanded again. But when the fairies returned, they were in such a hurry that they stumbled and sent the pots and pans crashing and clanking across the floor.
‘OOH! OWW!’ cried the Fairy King, jamming his hands against his ears. ‘You know very well that I cannot stand loud noises!’
And, at that moment, Annie had her plan.
She broke the eggs and poured the milk and mixed in the flour and butter. But when she stirred the batter, she made the spoon clatter – clackety, clackety, clack – against the side of the bowl.
The Fairy King winced at the noise, but Annie could see that it was not loud enough. And so she said, ‘Oh dear. I am used to having my little striped cat beside me when I bake. I cannot make my best cake unless he is here.’
So the Fairy King commanded, and the fairies went, and came back at once with the cat.
Annie put the cat under the table and, as she mixed the batter, she trod, ever so gently, on the cat’s tail.
And so the spoon went, ‘Clackety, clackety, clack!’
And the cat went, ‘Yow! Yow! Yow!’
And the Fairy King looked even more uncomfortable.
‘Oh dear,’ said Annie again. ‘It’s still not right. I’m also used to having my big brown dog beside me when I bake. I don’t suppose…?’
‘Yes, yes,’ sighed the Fairy King. ‘Anything for a taste of that cake.’
And the fairies were sent for the dog.
Annie put him next to the cat, and he soon began to bark.
And so the spoon went, ‘Clackety, clackety, clack!’
And the cat went, ‘Yow! Yow! Yow!’
And the dog went, ‘Woof! Woof! Woof!’
And the Fairy King stuck a fairy finger in one ear.
‘Just one more thing,’ said Annie. ‘I am worried about my little baby. And I cannot do my best work when I am worried.’
‘All right, all right,’ moaned the Fairy King.
And he sent off his fairies one more time.
The baby was asleep when she arrived, but as soon as she heard all the noise, she awoke with a cry.
And so the spoon went, ‘Clackety, clackety, clack!’
And the cat went, ‘Yow! Yow! Yow!’
And the dog went, ‘Woof! Woof! Woof!’
And the baby went, ‘Wah! Wah! Wah!’
And the Fairy King put his hands over his ears and shouted, ‘Enough! Enough! Enough!’
And everything went quiet.
‘Even the best cake in the world is not worth this racket,’ he cried. ‘Take your baby, woman, and your dog and your cat and your noisy spoon. Go back to your own world, and leave us in peace!’
Annie smiled. ‘I’ll do better than that,’ she said. ‘If you promise to leave me be, I’ll put a special little cake for you and your people by the fairy mound each day.’
‘That’s a bargain,’ smiled the Fairy King, and Annie and all that belonged to her were returned to her kitchen in a flash.
And every day, from then on, Annie left a little cake by the fairy mound. And the Fairy King not only left her alone; each day he left her a little bag of gold, where the cake had been. And they all lived happily ever after.
How the Kangaroo Got Its Tail
There was a time when Kangaroo had no tail. Not a bushy tail. Not a waggly tail. And certainly not the long, strong tail he has today.
Kangaroo had no tail. But what he did have were plenty of children. So many children, in fact, that some of the other animals were jealous – particularly Bandicoot, who had no children at all.
One day, Bandicoot came to visit Kangaroo.
‘Kangaroo,’ he pleaded. ‘You and your wife have six beautiful children, and I have none at all. Won’t you give me three of your children to raise as my own?’
Kangaroo was shocked. ‘No,’ he said, as politely as he could. ‘We love our children. We could never give them away.’
‘Two, then,’ begged Bandicoot. ‘Just let me have two. I promise to be a good father.’
‘No,’ Kangaroo insisted. ‘We want to raise our children ourselves, thank you very much.’
‘How about one, then,’ Bandicoot cried. ‘Just one, and I will never bother you again.’
‘No!’ said Kangaroo, firmly. ‘We could not part with even one of our children!’
Bandicoot was angry, now. ‘All right,’ he shouted. ‘If you will not give me any of your children, I will have to steal one!’ And he rushed towards the baby kangaroos.
‘Run, children!’ Kangaroo hollered. ‘Run away!’
The kangaroo children jumped from their mother’s pouch and turned to run, but Bandicoot was too quick for them. He grabbed one of the little kangaroos from behind and held on tight.
Kangaroo was there in a second. He grabbed his child by the arms, and both he and Bandicoot began to pull.
They pulled and they pulled and they pulled. And then something strange happened.
The little kangaroo’s bottom began to stretch – it grew longer and longer and longer!
‘Help me, wife!’ Kangaroo called. So she began to pull as well. And the little kangaroo’s bottom stretched longer still.
Finally, Kangaroo called for his other children, and when they began to pull, it was too much for Bandicoot. He let go with a sigh and ran away. And the kangaroos tumbled down in a pile of pouches and feet and fur.
‘Is everyone all right?’ asked Kangaroo.
‘Yes,’ said Mother Kangaroo.
‘Yes,�
� said five little kangaroos.
But the last little kangaroo cried, ‘Look!’ And he waved his new, long tail.
His brothers and sisters began to laugh, but when they saw how much better he could run and jump, they soon wanted long tails too.
And from that time to this very day, there has never been a kangaroo without one!
The Greedy Farmer
It was nearly dark by the time poor Farmer Idris finished milking his cows. He yawned and he stretched and he made his way slowly from his ramshackle barn to his tumbledown house. Another day of hard work done – and very little to show for it.
But at the side of the cool, blue lake that bordered Farmer Idris’ land, another farmer’s work had just begun. The sun had barely dropped behind the hills when the Fairy of the Lake walked slowly out of the water.
She was beautiful and tall, and dressed in a dripping, lake-blue gown. She sang a song – the sound bubbling out of her, cool and clear as a mountain spring. And in response to that sound, a herd of pure milk-white cows came up out of the water after her and grazed on the grass at the side of the lake.
When dawn arrived, and the sun peeped its head over the hills, she returned to the water, her cows following behind. All but one, that is, who had wandered off towards Farmer Idris’ house. All that day she grazed with his cows and later that evening followed them back to his barn.
Farmer Idris was surprised to see a milk-white cow among his herd. But as she had no markings and appeared to belong to no one, he kept her and milked her with the rest.
And from that moment on, the surprises never stopped! She gave more milk in one day than his whole herd could give in a week. And the taste of it – Oh! It was richer and purer than any milk he had ever drunk. There was soft, sweet butter, as well, and smooth, golden cheese, and thick, heavy cream. And people would come from miles around to smell it, to taste it, and to buy it.
After many months, the milk-white cow gave birth to calves, and when they had grown, their milk was just as good as hers.
