The Earth King was sorrowful, but not discouraged. Again he seized the great paint brush, as big as a church steeple, dipped it into the red and golden sunset light, and wrote in big letters high on the sky that every one far and near could read:
WANTED! MESSENGERS!
FLEETER THAN HORSES,
SWIFTER THAN MEN,
TO CARRY MY MESSAGES,
A MILLION TIMES TEN.
Then he went into his rainbow house and laid himself down on his rainbow bed. He scarcely had taken forty winks when he heard a rat-tat-tatting on the rainbow window and a rap-rap-rapping on the rainbow door. Quickly he leaped from his great bed.
"Who be ye?" he asked.
"We be messengers," came a gentle voice through the keyhole, "come to serve the King."
Then he opened the door, and there before him flitted and twittered a company of the most curious little people that he ever had set eyes upon. They had each a pair of beady eyes, a little pointed nose, a set of little scratchy toes, and the softest kind of a coat, fitting as snug as ever the tailor could make it.
"What are your names?" asked the King.
"We are the birds, and our names are many. We saw the King's sign in the sky and have come—
Fleeter than horses, swifter than men,
To carry your messages, a million times ten."
Then the King, remembering the Winds, addressed them in very deep and solemn tones: "The task is a great one. The King's business is exceeding grave and important. My messengers must be swift and faithful, must remember my commands and keep my secrets. Are ye able?"