"A book of old stories."
"What about?—adventures, and things of that sort?"
"Partly. Some of them are fairy stories—about queer little people, and animals that talk, and heavenly beings that help lost children, and people that have hard times."
"Why, those are the very fellows we want to see. Let's hear about 'em—mebbe we can give 'em a job."
"Well, if you would like it, I'll read you this story I've just begun," said Katy, good-naturedly.
"Much obliged. I think that would be tip-top."
So Katy read to him, as he lounged on the straw and gazed into the bright fire, an old myth-story of the North Wind. How, away in a far corner of Norway, there once lived a widow with one son. It was midwinter, and she was weak, so the lad was obliged to go to the "safe" (or cellar dug near the house, where the food was kept) to bring the materials for the morning meal. The first time he went, and the second, and again, at the third attempt, the fierce North Wind blew the food out of his hands. These three losses vexed the lad greatly, and he resolved to go to the North Wind and demand the food back. After long travelling he found the home of the giant, far towards the pole, and made his demand. The North Wind heard him, and gave him a cloth which would serve all the finest dishes in the world whenever the boy chose to spread it and call for them. On his way home he stopped at a tavern for the night, and, spreading his cloth, had a feast. The landlady was astonished, as well she might be, and thinking what a useful thing such a tablecloth would be in a hotel, she stole it while the lad was asleep, and put in its place one that looked like it, but which had no secret power.
The lad, not suspecting the change, went home, and boasted gleefully to his mother of what he had brought. But when he tried it, of course the false cloth could do nothing, and the old lady both laughed at him and scolded him. Vexed again, the lad hastened back, and accused the North Wind of fraud. So the giant gave him a ram which would coin golden ducats when commanded. Stopping at the tavern as before, the landlord exchanged this remarkable animal for one from his own common flock, and the lad found himself fooled a second time. Going back a third time, he told the story to the North Wind, who gave the angry lad a stout stick which, when it had been told to "lay on," would never cease striking till the lad bade it to stop.
At the tavern, the landlord, thinking there was some useful enchantment in the stick, tried to steal it also, but the boy was wide awake. He shouted, "Lay on," and the landlord found himself being clubbed till he was nearly dead, and gave back all that he had taken. Then the boy went home, and he and his mother lived rich and happy ever afterwards.
Tug's vigorous applause aroused the attention of the other two, who may have been listening a little, and Aleck asked what the book was.
"Dr. Dasent's 'Norse Tales,'" Katy replied.
"Who or what is 'Norse'?" Jim inquired.
This was a question Tug had been wanting to ask too, but had felt ashamed to expose his ignorance—one of the few things not really mean which a boy has a right to be ashamed of.
"The Norse people," Katy said, "are the people of Scandinavia (or the Northmen, as they were called in ancient times), and these stories are those that old people have told their children in Norway and Sweden for—oh! for hundreds of years. Many are about animals, and others—"
"Give us one about an animal," Tug interrupted.
Very well, here's one that tells why the bear has so short a tail:
One day the Bear met the Fox, who came slinking along with a string of fish he had stolen.
'Whence did you get these?' asked the Bear.
'Oh, my Lord Bruin, I've been out fishing, and caught them,' said the Fox.
So the Bear had a mind to learn to fish too, and bade the Fox tell him how he was to set about it.
'Oh, it's an easy craft for you,' said the Fox, 'and one soon learned. You've only to go upon the ice, and cut a hole, and stick your tail down into it; and so you must go on holding it there as long as you can. You're not to mind if your tail smarts a little; that's when the fish bite. The longer you hold it, the more fish you'll get; and then, all at once, out with it, with a cross pull sideways, and with a strong pull too.'
Yes; the Bear did as the Fox said, and held his tail a long, long time down in the hole, until it was fast frozen in. Then he pulled it out with a cross pull, and it snapped short off. That's why Bruin goes about with a stumpy tail to this day.
When this short and stirring tale of a tail had been concluded, the Captain's voice was heard.
"Now for bed!" he ordered, winding up his watch, whose golden hands pointed to nine o'clock.
Partially undressing, they tucked themselves into their quilts and blankets on the crackling straw, and silence followed. Sleep was slow to close the eyes of the younger ones, who were kept awake by their strange situation; and Rex, lying at Katy's feet, frequently raised his head as the roaring wind shrieked through the tall trees outside, or rattled a loose board in the roof with a strange noise.
The first one to awake next morning was Aleck, who looked at his watch by the glimmer of the coals, and was surprised to find it after eight o'clock, though only a gray light came through the little window of the cabin. Creeping out, he raked the embers together, laid on some fresh wood, and hung the kettle on the spike. Then he called his companions, who sat up and rubbed their eyes.
"Katy, you lie still till the boys go off. We'll bring you some water, and then you can have the house to yourself for a while. Get out of this, you fellows! Jim, bring a pail of water for the cook. Tug, you and I will go and see how the boat has stood the night."
Two minutes later they were gone. After Jim had brought the fresh water (he was slow about it, because he had to rechop the well-hole) the girl sprang up to make herself neat, and was busy at breakfast when the boys pounded the door like a battering-ram with the axe-handle, "so as surely to be heard," and begged to know if they might come in.
"Good-morning!" she greeted them. "How is the weather?"
"Weather!" exclaimed Tug, spreading his hands before the fire, and working his ears out from underneath a huge red comforter just as I have seen a turtle slowly push his head beyond the folded skin of his neck. "Weather! It's the roughest day I ever saw. I don't believe old Zach himself could skate a rod against that wind."
(Zach was a six-foot-three lumberman in Monore, who was noted for his great strength.)
"Then how can we go on?" asked Katy, dropping eggshells into the coffee-pot.
"I'm afraid we can't," Aleck said, soberly; "at least, until this gale goes down. It is very, very cold, and I'm sure we are much better off here. Don't you all think so?"
"You bet!" shouted Tug.
"You bet!" Jim echoed.
"Then I must worry about dinner," said Katy, with a pretended groan which made them all laugh.
At breakfast came the promised chops. Then, while Katy and Jim set the cabin into neat shape, the older lads went after more wood, and, having
