"Then I will fight on," said Turtle, and he called out, "Give life again to the warriors whom you have killed with your wicked arrows, and then I will yield, but never before. Come on, cowards that you are! You are afraid of me. You do not dare to come!"
Then his enemies said, "We will all shoot our arrows at once, and some one of them will be sure to kill him." They made ready to fire, but Turtle, too, made ready. He had two thick shields, and he put one over his back and one over his breast. Then he called to his fierce enemies, "Are you not ready? Come on, fierce warriors! Shoot your arrows through my breast if you can."
The warriors all shot, but not an arrow struck Turtle, for the two shields covered his breast and his back, and whenever an arrow buzzed through the air, he drew in his head and his arms between the shields, and so he was not harmed. "Why do you not aim at me?" he cried. "Are you shooting at the mountain, or at the sun and the moon? Good fighters you are, indeed! Try again."
His enemies shot once more, and this time an arrow killed the wounded friend as he lay on the ground. When Turtle cried, "Friend, are you living?" there was no answer.
"My friend is dead," said Turtle. "I will fight no more."
"He has yielded," cried his enemies.
"He has not," said Turtle, and with one great leap he sprang into the river. His enemies did not dare to spring after him.
"Those long arms of his would pull us to the bottom," they said; "but we will watch till he comes up, and then we shall be sure of him."
They were not so sure as they thought, for he did not come up, and all that they could see in the water was a strange creature unlike anything that had been there before.
"It has arms and a head," said one.
"And it pulls them out of sight just as Turtle did," said another.
"It has a shield over its back and one over its breast, as Turtle had,"
said the first. Then all the warriors were so eager to watch the strange animal that they no longer remembered the fight. They crowded up to the sh.o.r.e of the river.
"It is not Turtle," cried one.
"It _is_ Turtle," declared another.
"It is so like him that I do not care to go into the water as long as it is in sight," said still another.
"But if this is not Turtle, where is he?" they all asked, and not one of the wise men of their tribe could answer.
WHY THE CROCODILE HAS A WIDE MOUTH.
"Come to my kingdom whenever you will," said the G.o.ddess of the water to the king of the land. "My waves will be calm, and my animals will be gentle. They will be as good to your children as if they were my own.
Nothing in all my kingdom will do you harm."
The G.o.ddess went back to her home in the sea, and the king walked to the sh.o.r.e of the river and stood gazing upon the beautiful water. Beside him walked his youngest son.
"Father," asked the boy, "would the G.o.ddess be angry if I went into the water to swim?"
"No," answered the father. "She says that nothing in all her wide kingdom will do us harm. The water-animals will be kind, and the waves will be calm."
The boy went into the water. He could swim as easily as a fish, and he went from sh.o.r.e to sh.o.r.e, sometimes talking with the fishes, sometimes getting a bright piece of stone to carry to his father. Suddenly something caught him by the foot and dragged him down, down, through the deep, dark water. "Oh, father!" he cried, but his father had gone away from the sh.o.r.e, and the strange creature, whatever it was, dragged the boy down to the very bottom of the river.
The river was full of sorrow for what the creature had done, and it lifted the boy gently and bore him to the feet of the G.o.ddess. His eyes were closed and his face was white, for he was dead. Great tears came from the eyes of the G.o.ddess when she looked at him. "I did not think any of my animals would do such a cruel thing," she said. "His father shall never know it, for the boy shall not remember what has happened."
Then she laid her warm hand upon his head, and whispered some words of magic into his ear. "Open your eyes," she called, and soon they were wide open. "You went in to swim," said the G.o.ddess. "Did the water please you?"
"Yes, surely."
"Were the water-animals kind to you?"
"Yes, surely," answered the boy, for the magic words had kept him from remembering anything about the strange creature that had dragged him to the bottom of the river.
The boy went home to his father, and as soon as he was out of sight, the G.o.ddess called to the water-animals, "Come one, come all, come little, come great."
"It is the voice of the G.o.ddess," said the water-animals, and they all began to swim toward her as fast as they could.
When they were together before her, she said, "One of you has been cruel and wicked. One of you has dragged to the bottom of the river the son of my friend, the king of the land, but I have carried him safely to sh.o.r.e, and now he is in his home. When he comes again, will you watch over him wherever in the wide, wide water he may wish to go?"
"Yes!" "Yes!" "Yes!" cried the water-animals.
"Water," asked the G.o.ddess, "will you be calm and still when the son of my friend is my guest?"
"Gladly," answered the water.
Suddenly the G.o.ddess caught sight of the crocodile hiding behind the other animals. "Will you be kind to the boy and keep harm away from him?" she asked.
[Ill.u.s.tration: "THE MOUTH THAT WILL NOT OPEN MUST BE MADE TO OPEN"]
Now it was the crocodile that had dragged the boy to the bottom of the river. He wished to say, "Yes," but he did not dare to open his mouth for fear of saying, "I did it, I did it," so he said not a word. The G.o.ddess cried, "Did you drag the king"s son to the bottom of the river?"
Still the crocodile dared not open his mouth for fear of saying, "I did it, I did it." Then the G.o.ddess was angry. She drew her long sword, and saying, "The mouth that will not open when it should must be made to open," she struck the crocodile"s mouth with the sword. "Oh, look!"
cried the other animals. The crocodile"s mouth had opened; there was no question about _that_, for it had split open so far that he was afraid he should never be able to keep it closed.
THE STORY OF THE PICTURE ON THE VASE.
On some of the beautiful vases that are made in j.a.pan there is a picture of a G.o.ddess changing a dragon into an island. When the children of j.a.pan say, "Mother, tell us a story about the picture," this is what the mother says:--
"Long, long ago there was a G.o.ddess of the sea who loved the people of j.a.pan. She often came out of the water at sunset, and while all the bright colors were in the sky, she would sit on a high rock that overlooked the water and tell stories to the children. Such wonderful stories as they were! She used to tell them all about the strange fishes that swim in and out among the rocks and the mosses, and about the fair maidens that live deep down in the sea far under the waves. The children would ask, "Are there no children in the sea? Why do they never come out to play with us?" The G.o.ddess would answer, "Some time they will come, if you only keep on wishing for them. What children really wish for they will surely have some day."
"Then the G.o.ddess would sing to the children, and her voice was so sweet that the evening star would stand still in the sky to listen to her song. "Please show us how the water rises and falls," the children would beg, and she would hold up a magic stone that she had and say, "Water, rise!" Then the waves would come in faster and faster all about the rock. When she laid down the stone and said, "Water, fall!" the waves would be still, and the water would roll back quickly to the deep sea.
She was G.o.ddess of the storm as well as of the sea, and sometimes the children would say, "Dear G.o.ddess, please make us a storm." She never said no to what they asked, and so the rain would fall, the lightning flare, and the thunder roll. The rain would fall all about them, but the G.o.ddess did not let it come near them. They were never afraid of the lightning, for it was far above their heads, and they knew that the G.o.ddess would not let it come down.
"Those were happy times, but there is something more to tell that is not pleasant. One of the G.o.ddess"s sea-animals was a dragon, that often used to play in the water near the sh.o.r.e. The children never thought of being afraid of any of the sea-animals, but one day the cruel dragon seized a little child in his mouth, and in a moment he had eaten it. There was sadness over the land of j.a.pan. There were tears and sorrowful wailing.
"O G.o.ddess," the people cried, "come to us! Punish the wicked dragon!"
[Ill.u.s.tration]
"The G.o.ddess was angry that one of her creatures should have dared to harm the little child, and she called aloud, "Dragon, come to me." The dragon came in a moment, for he did not dare to stay away. Then said the G.o.ddess, "You shall never again play merrily in the water with the happy sea-animals. You shall be a rocky island. There shall be trees and plants on you, and before many years have gone, people will no longer remember that you were once an animal."