Then he rubbed his eyes open. It was morning, and what felt so cold around his neck was water. It had risen until it had covered him up in the night.
But the noise kept on. It did not seem to have the slightest intention of stopping. The wider awake Hurtali grew, the louder it seemed to become. It did not sound at all like eagles any more, and it seemed to come from somewhere very near his left ear. Hurtali turned over on his side. There, stuck on the rocks he had piled up, was a tremendous wooden box, almost as long as he was himself. The ends floated in the water, but the middle was wedged firmly on the rocky shelf. It was from that the noises came.
Hurtali raised himself on one elbow and put his ear against the box. Inside, hundreds of little creatures seemed to be moving about. There were steps and stampings, small roars and tiny shrieks, flutterings and callings, barkings and bleatings innumerable. It was Noah’s Ark waking up for the day, but of course Hurtali did not know that. He listened, fascinated.
Just then a window in the side shot open, and four men with four poles, leaning out, began to push against the rock with all their strength. Hurtali gasped. Never in all his life had he seen such tiny creatures. He watched breathlessly as they braced themselves and struggled. But the harder they pushed, the firmer the Ark seemed to stick.
Now, Hurtali was a kind-hearted giant, and while he could not but chuckle to see the little people struggling at a task so much too big for them, his first thought was to help them out. So he put out both his great hands and pushed against the side of the Ark. But the Ark was stuck too fast even for that, and instead of sliding off into the water with Hurtali’s shoves, it tossed first on one side and then on the other, and so rocked violently back and forth. And with that there arose such a scrambling and scratching as never was heard before, as the animals rolled about inside. Elephants trumpeted, cows mooed, donkeys brayed, eagles screamed, dogs barked, lions roared, pigs squealed, wolves howled, orangoutangs chattered.
As for Noah, Shem, Ham, and Japheth, who had been pushing, their eyes had been so fast fixed on their poles that they did not see the giant’s arms at all, and thought the whole commotion due to their own efforts.
But when Hurtali saw that he could not budge the Ark that way, he scrambled up out of the water with splashes that set the craft seesawing. Then, throwing one leg across, he jumped on top, as a man mounts a horse. And sitting there a-straddle, he pushed with his foot against the cliff,—once, twice, three times. And with the third push the Ark sailed off suddenly, with Hurtali sitting atop.
It was a new experience for Hurtali, and he laughed with his whole voice. In all his life he had never been on any kind of boat before, and this one was so jolly. It went wabbling about over the waves with queer splashes and gurgles. Hurtali swung his legs and roared out a giant-song. Once in a while his toes would strike against a half drowned mountain, and then he would push with all his might to keep his big craft off the rocks.