The Cassowary; What Chanced in the Cleft Mountains

by Stanley Waterloo

  CHAPTER XVII

  THE ENCHANTED COW

  For some reason, not altogether clear, there was no comment for a timeafter the Farmer had finished his account of the affair of Jason and thegirl and the Southdown sheep. Perhaps it was because of thegrotesqueness of the idea that a man working so faithfully for and sodreaming of his love--a practical man--could have left absolutepossession of her to the unreal, while making his hobby at hand thereal. The silence was broken by the Young Lady:

  "That is very strange life history, it seems to me. How could any man, areal man, forget the girl he cared for in such a way? It seems allwicked and unnatural."

  "But, my dear young lady," explained the Professor, banteringlyponderous, "he did not forget her. In fact, from the account he appearsto have been a most devoted lover. What he forgot was time. Besides," hecontinued, "taking the broader point of view, how much better it is forall of us that, in one region at least, we have better mutton than thatJason should have raised a family!"

  "Bother the mutton!" was the indignant and somewhat irreverent answer,and then the Colonel intervened:

  "My dear Miss," he explained ingratiatingly, "I am confident that it isneither the Professor's lack of heart nor sympathy nor gallantry thathas spoken, but, instead, his superior and appreciative judgment in thematter of mutton. It may be that he is braver than some of us. However,it doesn't matter, because your sensibilities are going to be soothedand fed on caramels just now. I am most confident of that, since I amabout to commandeer the Poet. Mr. Poet, there is no alternative."

  There is something anomalous about the successful modern poets. They areusually disguised as citizens. They do not have shaven faces and longhair and another world expression upon their countenances. Sometimesthey have even a stubby mustache and a bad look. This particular poetchanced to be good-looking, but that proves nothing. He responded easilyenough:

  "Vocalism is difficult to me. I'd rather write this out. I can tell youa story, though, of the region where, it is said, were sowed theDragon's Teeth from which sprang the men who later owned the EasternHemisphere. The story of the Enchanted Cow has the merit that it istrue."

  THE ENCHANTED COW

  It is odd how often when from some legendary source a fairy story comes,we find fact mixed with the fancy. This tale, for instance, might justas well be called "Single Hoof and Double Hoof" or the "Wild Ride forCaviare," as to be named "The Enchanted Cow." Certainly every one shouldknow about caviare, and why some beasts have split hoofs and some round,unyielding ones, but that enchantment should have anything to do with itis curious.

  Into the Danube far southwest of Buda-Pesth once ran a deep, stillstream which babbled when it began in the hills, became more quiet as itreached the plain, and was almost sluggish when it entered the BlackTarn, as the broad sheet of water was called, though it was in fact alake surrounded by sedgy marshes. The stream after feeding and passingthrough the Black Tarn became a deep river, and broadened as it poureditself into the Danube, the father of waters of all the region. To thenorth of the Black Tarn was the Moated Grange where lived the LadyFloretta Beamish, that is the lady whose name would have been that iftranslated into English, for the country in which she lived was Hungary.The streams which would, in English, have been called Ken Water afterflowing through the Black Tarn as told, went on through the estate ofSir Gladys Rhinestone. It is true that Gladys is usually accepted as thename of a gentlewoman, but this time it belonged to a gentleman, and oneof high degree. He explained his name himself by frankly confessing thathe had been named after his mother.

  In the days referred to people of the class of the Lady Floretta Beamishand Sir Gladys Rhinestone were generally under the immediate sovereigntyof a prince, and the prince in their case was scarce a model. The one towhom all of that part of Hungary owed allegiance was Prince Rugbauer,and he was hardly of a type to be called gentle or considerate. In factnone of the people of the lands about were accustomed to pronounce thename of Prince Rugbauer above a whisper. Whenever it became necessary toallude to the prince, the inhabitants of the country were used to makethe motion, hand on throat, of strangling. This was a direct allusionto the prince's system of taxation, and was understood by the humblestknave in the whole valley of Ken Water. Even the prince knew the meaningof this gesture, though when first told of it he but laughed grimly andno one ever spoke to him again about it. It was the witch of Zombor whotold the prince. Anything malicious might be expected from her.

  It was because of the witch that the cow was in trouble. The witch hadenchanted the cow for a thousand years, and the seven hundredth year waspassing when this tale begins. It may be said straightforwardly of thewitch, that she was one of the worst of a disagreeable class of beingsnow, happily, becoming rare. She lived in a sort of hutch, a roundmud-walled den on a hill which would be called Endbury Moon in English,and throughout the day she lay curled up in this den like a snail in itsshell, but at night she came out regularly to work such mischief as shemight in the country round about. Wherever she found there was notrouble she proceeded at once to brew some. There was no end to herpernicious activity.

  The Lady Floretta Beamish was an orphan and sole mistress of thetwo-towered Grange and all the lands and waters a mile either up anddown the deep Ken Water. But the land was far from rich, and therevenues of the lady came mostly from the sturgeon in the river whichwere caught each year in the same manner as in the Danube itself. TheLady Floretta was a very beautiful creature. Her hair was of a palegolden hue, and her eyes were blue. Her cheeks were like June roses. Shewas tall and fair, and walked around the walled Grange in a long whitesatin robe embroidered with gold, and down her back rippled the goldenhair, even to the hem of her trailing gown.

  It required the services of seven maidens and seven hours daily to comband brush the Lady Floretta's hair, but they did not mind it. The sevenmaids had nothing else to do, so they combed and they combed, and theybrushed and they smoothed the pale golden treasure of their mistress'hair, fastening each shining braid of it at last to the hem of hertrailing gown, with pins sparkling with diamonds, moonstones, rubies andemeralds. Why the Lady Floretta did not dispose of some of these jewelswhen the strait came, which will be told of, it is not easy tounderstand. It may be they were all heirlooms and so not to be partedwith.

  A year of trial came at last for both the Lady Floretta and Sir GladysRhinestone. No fish were caught and that was a disaster which affectedeverything. The fish were the fortune of the country, for from the eggsof the great sturgeon was made the caviare, without which no true-bornnoble of the realm could make a tolerable meal. The caviare was shippedaway to all parts of the civilized world as it is now, and it will beseen that to have the stream fail of fish was a calamity of firstmagnitude.

  It was a wonderful thing to see the manner of fishing in those days, andthey fish in the same way upon the Danube now. They cut a great gapthrough the ice in the winter, the gap extending across the stream, andin it they set monster nets. Then, miles above the nets, a band ofhorsemen ranged themselves straight across the river on the ice, whichwould bear an army, and at a signal blast come thundering down at utmostspeed. The noise was terrific. "Ohe! ohe! a hun! a hun!" yelled the wildhorsemen, there was a blare of trumpets and the strong ice trembledbeneath the impact of the mighty hoofs. The timid sturgeon fled beneaththe ice before the pursuing shock, and at last rushed blindly into theawaiting nets, to be taken by thousands and tens of thousands. But fromKen Water, though the horsemen rode as in the past, no fish were found.The stewards explained that the stream had run very low, and that thefish had gone either to the Danube or the depths of the Black Tarn. Thecase was very bad. Prince Rugbauer announced that Sir Gladys and LadyFloretta were false traitors both, and announced as well that he wouldcancel their ownership of their lands and castles, and hold them nobetter than common folk themselves unless the heavy annual taxes werepaid within a week.

  And so it came to pass one night that from his castle Sir Gladys pacedwith bowed head along
Ken Water, around the Black Tarn toward thewitch's hut on Endbury Moor, and at the same time, the moon over herright shoulder, came to the desolate hill-top Lady Floretta, each benton consulting the Witch as to what should be done about the fish thathad left Ken Water.

  The Witch, seated on top of her hut, gave what is called in old stories,an eldritch laugh when she saw Sir Gladys advancing on one side of theMoor, and Lady Floretta, more slowly climbing up the other.

  When the Lady Floretta heard the strange laugh of the Witch, she wasstartled and alarmed and stood still for the space of a full half-hour,while her seven maidens coaxed her to go on, and so Sir Gladys, who wasless affected by the eldritch laugh than she and who, moreover, wasalone, arrived first at the Witch's haunt and secured audience at once.He gave the Witch a gold-plated candlestick and two sugar spoons ofsilver, then explained his woeful plight, and asked advice and counsel.

  The Witch clutched the articles eagerly in her claw-hands, climbed downfrom the little hut, and standing in her low door croaked out:

  "By the light of yonder moon, Look and see your fortune soon!"

  She thrust the candlestick and sugar spoons into a bag at her girdle,and, curling up within her hut, fell fast asleep without ceremony,leaving Sir Gladys peering doubtfully in at the door which she had leftopen. What she had said was certainly vague and unsatisfactory and hefelt that he had been imposed upon. He tried in vain to arouse thecreature and tiring at last of shouting into the hut at a figureapparently of stone, he turned away but to meet, fair and full, thebeautiful Lady Floretta Beamish attended by the seven maidens carryingseven lighted horn lanterns, and followed by a gentle snow-white cowwith golden horns and hoofs.

  Sir Gladys swept the heather with his plumed hat, as he bowed before theLady Floretta.

  "Madam," he said, with deep respect, "upon what quest do you come uponthis lonely moor by the uncertain light of the moon feebly aided by theseven lanterns carried by your maidens?"

  The Lady Floretta could not speak. Her embarrassment and confusion weresuch that she could scarcely stand even when supported by her maidens.She looked around for a chair.

  Sir Gladys took from his shoulders his cloak of purple velvet, andspread it at the lady's feet. "Rest," he said, "rest, and recover yourstrength, fair and honored Lady! I will await your pleasure, meanwhileexamining the unusual specimen of the animal kingdom which I seefollowing your gracious footsteps."

  He took a step or two toward the Enchanted Cow--for it was she--but sheshook her golden horns, and he remained standing near the Lady Floretta,who sat down, affably and quite comfortably, upon the cloak of purple.

  "Hark to the thunder!" said the Lady Floretta. "It is going to rain!"and she began to chide the maids for not bringing umbrellas. Each it istrue had a small parasol to ward off moon-stroke, but there was not oneumbrella worthy of the name among them all.

  "It is not thunder that you hear, sweet lady," said Sir Gladys. "'Tisbut the stertorous and unseemly breathing of the foul Witch in the den."

  "Oh, is she asleep? And no one dares awaken her!" sighed the LadyFloretta. "I have walked a weary distance to consult her," sheexplained, as she became convinced that the sounds she had heard indeedcame from the Witch's hut.

  Sir Gladys came nearer, the seven maidens drew nearer, the Enchanted Cowherself walked closer to Lady Floretta, as she sat upon the cloak spreadupon the heather, and there in the summer night the Lady Floretta andSir Gladys exchanged confidences and condolences about their sorestrait, and often made the dread gesture as they talked, for neitherthought best to name the Prince Rugbauer and both were too well-bred towhisper in company.

  The seven maidens sitting there on the heather, fell asleep, eachnodding over her horn lantern. The Enchanted Cow, however was wideawake, and, from her expression, appeared to sympathize deeply with thetwo distressed mortals whose troubles were so freely poured forth in herpresence. They spoke of the disastrous happening of the winter, and ofthe probable hopelessness of an attempt to retrieve their fortunes atthis time of the year.

  "The outlook is black indeed," remarked Sir Gladys, and the LadyFloretta agreed with him dejectedly.

  "It is the Split Hoof that you need," said a soft deep voice; and thetwo turning their heads saw the Enchanted Cow looking upon themearnestly. It was she who had spoken.

  Sir Gladys and Lady Floretta were dumb with astonishment. After a briefsilence, the Enchanted Cow continued: "Last winter when you rodefuriously upon the frozen stream the thunder of your horses' hoofsscared no fish into your nets, and when spring came the water was as lowas it had been the summer before and is still shallow. But I know wherethe fish are hidden and that they have not spawned. I stand, during theheat of these summer days, knee deep in the water in the shallows of theBlack Tarn, and I see what I see."

  "Dear Enchanted Cow," said the Lady Floretta, "please tell us what yousee!"

  "This one night in the year," resumed the Enchanted Cow, withoutappearing to notice what the Lady Floretta has said, "this one night inthe year, and the only one night in the year, yonder crafty Witch mustsleep. She cannot awaken until midnight and this is the one night in theyear that the Witch's spell is lifted from me, and I am given the powerof speech until the clock strikes twelve."

  "Oh! however can you stand it to be dumb so much of the time?" exclaimedthe pitying Lady Floretta.

  The Enchanted Cow looked at the Lady in surprise, for it is a great andbeneficent thing to a cow to be allowed to speak at all.

  "It is getting late," said Sir Gladys, looking at his watch by the lightof one of the lanterns, and then, addressing the White Cow: "You weremaking an interesting observation concerning fish in the Black Tarn, ifI mistake not."

  "The Black Tarn is full of the great fish," the Enchanted Cow declared."They have taken refuge there, Ken Water being so low. You have but tostretch your nets, draw them, and reap your harvest."

  "But, my dear madam," urged Sir Gladys, "the Black Tarn is surrounded byfens and marshes. Our horses were mired in trying to take out boats andnets this spring, when the ice first broke and we thought to fish in theBlack Tarn, at a venture."

  "As I remarked at the beginning of this conversation," said the WhiteCow, somewhat testily, "it is the split hoof that you need--"

  Just then the distant Church clocks of the Saag could be heard, allstriking the hour of twelve.

  The White Cow turned at once and walked in the direction of the BlackTarn, and Sir Gladys, the Lady Floretta and the seven maidens, now fullyawake, followed, the more speedily because of a screech from the Witch,as she burst from the door, her inevitable yearly nap at an end.

  But no word could be heard from the Enchanted Cow. She looked meaninglyat Sir Gladys, though, and that gallant gentleman seemed plunged inthought as the little party of wanderers left the white figure standingon the edge of the swampy ground which surrounded the Black Tarn. SirGladys escorted the Lady Floretta home, and what the two said to eachother as they hurried over the moor toward the Moated Grange is what noone need consider. They were companions in misfortune, and so drawnclosely. Having bowed to the ground at the Great Gate, and having seenit close on the disappearing forms of the lady and her seven maidens,Sir Gladys hied him home, with quickened step. All the while he wasthinking deeply. He had been from boyhood a student of natural history.

  "SIR GLADYS ESCORTED THE LADY FLORETTA HOME"]

  Away back in the past so dim and distant that only the most learned cantalk of it intelligently, away in the time after the earth had risenfrom the warm waters and when the great reptiles had given place toanimals, something like those which exist to-day, the hoofs of all thequadrupeds were split. The land was low and marshy then, and the splithoof best supported its owner on the yielding surface. As the earthprotruded more and more, and dry and sometimes rocky land uprose, suchbeasts as frequented the hills found that their hoofs were changingslowly with the centuries. Hard and round the hoofs became as was bestfor the hill dwellers, but the beasts of the shores and lowlandsre
tained the split hoof and still can tread the morass. This theEnchanted Cow knew. This, Sir Gladys Rhinestone, who had studied naturalhistory, knew as well.

  It was four in the morning by the great clock of the Castle when SirGladys stood in the center of the stone-paved courtyard and wound hishorn. At the sound every man in the Castle and its surroundingbuildings, and on the farms about, became astir, and soon Sir Gladys hadhis trusty henchmen a dozen deep about him. His words of command sentthem scattering in all directions, and sunrise beheld a sturdy band,headed by Sir Gladys, leaving the Castle Gate and turned in thedirection of the Black Tarn. With the men marched fifty of the great redoxen of Rhinestone, and upon their mighty shoulders they bore the heavynets and boats of the once lucky fisherman of Ken Water.

  Sir Gladys had taken the White Cow's hint, and set the split hoof to dowhat the whole hoof could not accomplish.

  A messenger was sent to the Moated Grange requesting the Lady Florettato visit the shore of the Black Tarn, and thither the procession movedand soon the Tarn was reached. Then followed a scene of which the storywas told for years, for it was something worth the seeing. The greattractable oxen, encouraged doubtless by the Enchanted Cow who stoodknee-deep in the oozy margin awaiting them, bore out bravely into theblack waters through reeds and sedge and yielding mud and made a mightysplashing toward the center of the lake where in a semicircle weregathered the fishermen with their boats and nets. The waters near theshore were churned into a foam, and the watchers looking outward couldsee the long wakes of the frightened sturgeon as they fled to certaincapture.

  And the nets were filled to the overflowing; so heavy were they that thegreat oxen could scarcely draw them to firm land. So the great work wasaccomplished, the Lady Floretta and her maidens coming in time to see itall. There were fish enough to furnish caviare enough it would seem forhalf the world.

  It was well that their two estates joined, for while during the fishing,the Lady Floretta and Sir Gladys had been sitting on the strand of theBlack Tarn--Sir Gladys' cloak around the Lady, for the day grewchill--they had declared each to the other their determination to jointheir lives and their fortunes together from that hour, and so it cameto pass that, by the time the fish eggs were turned into caviare andsold and the money was in hand to pay Prince Rugbauer's taxes, SirGladys Rhinestone had made the Lady Floretta Beamish his bride, andwhat was good or ill fortune for one was the same for the other.

  And this is also told, that, as for the Enchanted Cow, ever afterwardshe wandered at will on the moors in summer, and was well cared for atthe castle or the Moated Grange in winter. And ever on the night of theWitch's sleep, the cow was visited in state by fair Sir Gladys and LadyFloretta, for nothing is more excellent than gratitude.