CHAPTER XXXIV
REST
The good magician found his old enemy bleeding in the snow, and bound by thongs magic-strengthened, which he was powerless to break in his weakened condition. Having seen that the enemy was broken and scattered, and that every mountaineer ran, inspired by no purpose except the saving of his own life, he lifted Bright Robe in his arms and carried him into one of the few lodges that remained standing. He loosened the thongs and poured water between the swollen lips.
“What now?” asked Bright Robe, with the courage of despair.
For a little while the good magician sat silent, in the darkness, as if he had not heard.
“Though I defeated you before, and loosed you in the wilderness in the shape of a little owl,” he said, at last, “yet you outwitted me at the end of the five years. And though your magic possessed but half its former strength when you regained your old shape, yet you managed to hide from me for nine years and have led invaders into my country. Now, even were I to let you go away without punishment, your strength would be no more than that of the least of the magicians, for magic is a thing that weakens under defeat. It is a vanity, failing in adversity, but growing ever stronger and more vain with success. By it, one may win fear, and if he uses it for the protection of his people, it brings him respect and friendship; but the greatest magician cannot win love by his magic.”
Bright Robe lay very still, listening and wondering. “I have no fear of you,” continued Wise-as-a-she-wolf, “and, seeing you bleeding there, overthrown in your evil doing by a lad whom I love, I find but little hate of you in my heart. You must live for ever, in weakness or in strength, in wickedness or in virtue, even as I, and that is punishment beyond any man’s deserving.”
“Yes, chief. If the water of everlasting life were held to my lips again, how gladly would I spill it on the ground,” said Bright Robe.
“And yet we fought and bled, suffered weariness and cold and loneliness, to win that drink,” replied the good magician.
“I left a woman and child--a child of my blood--to starve in an empty lodge, that I might drink of that accursed water,” whispered Bright Robe. “Strike me, old enemy,” he cried. “Beat me to nothingness. I would go, even now, and make my peace with those two.”
“Your spirit would still be bound to this old earth,” replied Wise-as-a-she-wolf, “though I should strike with all my magic and scatter your body to the winds.”
For a long time they sat silent in the darkness of the lodges. It was Bright Robe who spoke first.
“I, too, have lost fear,” he said, “though I have been a coward at heart since my mother bore me. For nine years I have been no better than a slave of Black Eagle’s, because of fear. Fear of you, and fear of the shadow in my heart, have driven me so hard that even the thirst for blood is dead in me and I have no more desire for evil power. I care not what you do with me.”
“When you recover from your wounds,” said Wise-as-a-she-wolf, “I fear you will thirst again for power and blood and mischief. But I pity you, Bright Robe, for the age of sleeping and waking and remembrance that are before you. So I will deal with you as mercifully as I may.”
“There is no more lust of life in me. You cannot give me death. Then what do I care how you deal with me?” said Bright Robe.
For two days the hunting and slaying of the mountaineers by the islanders continued, and not one of those savage invaders returned to his own country. But as the cold continued as intense as ever, and it was thought that the ice would remain in the Narrow Sea until spring, Jumping Wolf marched his men westward and encamped them on the coast. Wise-as-a-she-wolf took word of the victory to Run-all-day, and was so cordially received by that honest chief and his family that his heart lightened. He had brought the wounded Bright Robe with him, and he told Run-all-day of Featherfoot’s encounter with, and overthrow of, that magician. Also, he narrated his own adventures in the south; and the chief growled with rage when he heard of the little arrow tipped with poison.
“Now you may rest, master, since your enemy is delivered into your hands,” said Run-all-day. “Our people are strong now, and live under the laws, and even the southward clans are at peace with their neighbours. So surely the time has come for you to rest, master.”
“I have one more journey to make,” replied the good magician. “One more long journey to the southward, and then I will lay aside the moccasins of the wind, and sit at home and help you in your wise government of the people.”
The chief looked at him in wonder.
“Help me!” he exclaimed. “Why, master, I am your servant, though the strongest chief in the island. Whatever I have done for the good of the people has been through your friendship and guidance. Yes, and in little matters, Red Willow has given good counsel.”
Wise-as-a-she-wolf looked at the woman, who sat nearby, with downcast eyes.
“Your magic is greater than mine,” he said.
She raised her eyes and looked at him--at the strongest of magicians, with something of motherly tenderness.
“To fill a heart, even one heart, with love and trust, is a greater matter than flying through the air,” he said.
“You are loved. You are called the good magician,” replied Red Willow.
“And I am feared,” said Wise-as-a-she-wolf. “Yes, I am feared, even by those who think of me most kindly. But the time was when--”
They waited, gazing upon their guest.
“We are listening, master,” said the chief.
“I have forgotten it,” answered the other. “It was nothing. But I, too, was once young and the chief of a village.”
When Bright Robe had nearly recovered from his wounds, Wise-as-a-she-wolf bound him with thongs, lifted him in his arms, and flew southward. Night and day, the good magician ran above the sea, and many lands glimmered into his vision and faded again. At last he descended to the beach of an island, where mountains towered high, robed in green to their summits. Between the white beaches and the climbing slopes stood hundreds of cocoanut trees, their long stems bent and their crests for ever shaken by the wind. The music of the surf drummed around the island, day and night, night and day. Birds of bright plumage and harsh voices flew above the hillside forests. No other land was to be seen from any point of this island, but everywhere the uneasy ocean and the straight horizon.
Wise-as-a-she-wolf broke the thongs from Bright Robe’s limbs. “Here you will find food and drink and shelter,” he said, “and somewhere on the mountain is a small stream that flows with the water of forgetfulness.”
“Have you drunk of that stream?” asked Bright Robe.
“No. There are things that I do not wish to forget,” replied the other.
Bright Robe looked at the sea, and the windy palms, and the towering mountains. A shadow stole across his keen eyes.
“And this--for ever,” he whispered.
“If you drink often enough of the water of forgetfulness,” said the good magician, “then life will stretch no farther than from day to day.”
He turned, hesitated, then faced the motionless Bright Robe again.
“There is a village beyond the mountain. Be wise, for I do not forget.”
Then he sprang high into the blustering wind.
THE END.
Selections from The Page Company’s Books for Young People
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THE YOUNG PIONEER SERIES
By HARRISON ADAMS
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By LOUISE M. BREITENBACH
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By HARRIET LUMMIS SMITH
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PEGGY RAYMOND’S VACATION
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PEGGY RAYMOND’S SCHOOL DAYS
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FAMOUS LEADERS SERIES
By CHARLES H. L. JOHNSTON
_Each large 12mo, cloth decorative, illustrated, per volume_ $1.50
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TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:
Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_.
Perceived typographical errors have been corrected.
Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.
Archaic or variant spelling has been retained.
New original cover art included with this eBook is granted to the public domain.