But Kintaro was perfectly happy. The forest was full of his playmates. Every living thing loved him. When he lay on his bed of ferns, the birds flew nestling to his shoulder, and peeped into his eyes. The butterflies and moths settled on his face, and trod softly over his brown body. But his truest friends were the bears that dwelt in the forest. When he was tired of walking, a mother-bear carried him on her back. Her cubs ran to greet him, and romped and wrestled with him. Sometimes Kintaro would climb up the smooth-barked monkey-tree, and sit on the topmost bough, and laugh at the vain efforts of his shaggy cub-friends to follow him. Then came the bears’ supper-time, and the feast of golden liquid honey!
Now, it happened, one Summer, that there was to be a great day of sports for the forest creatures. Soon after dawn, a gentle-eyed stag came to waken Kintaro. The boy, with a farewell kiss to his mother, and a caress to the stag, leaped on his friend’s back, and wound his arms around his soft neck. And away they went with long, noiseless bounds through the forest.
Up hill, across valleys, through thickets they bounded, until they reached a leafy spot in a wide, green glade near a foaming cataract. There the stag set Kintaro down; and the boy seated himself on a mossy stone, and began to whistle sweetly.
Immediately the forest rustled with living things. The song-birds came swiftly to his call. The eagle and the hawk flew from distant heights. The crane and the heron stepped proudly from their hyacinth-pools and hastened to the glade. All Kintaro’s feathered friends flocked thither and rested in the cedar branches. Then through the undergrowth came running the wolf, the bear, the badger, the fox, and the martin, and seated themselves around Kintaro.
They all began to speak to him. He listened as they told their joys and sorrows, and he spoke graciously to each. For Kintaro had learned the languages of beasts, birds, and flowers.
And who had taught Kintaro all this? The Tengus, the Wood-Elves. And even while he was listening to the forest creatures, the Tengus themselves came tumbling out of the trees, or popping up from behind stones. Very strange little Elves they were! Each had the body of a man, the head of a hawk, powerful claws, and a long, long nose that usually trailed on the ground. And every little Tengu wore on his feet tiny stilt-like clogs.
All these queer Wood-Elves came toward Kintaro, walking very proudly with their arms crossed, heads well thrown back, and long noses held erect in the air. At their head was the Chief Tengu, very old, with a gray beard and a sharp beak.
The Chief Tengu seated himself beside Kintaro on the mossy stone, and waved a seven-feathered fan in the air. Immediately the sports began.
The young Tengus were fond of games. They found their long noses most useful. They now fenced with them, and balanced bowls full of goldfish on them. Then two of the Tengus straightened their noses, and joined them together, and so made a tight rope. On this a young Tengu, with a paper umbrella in one hand, and leading a little dog with the other, danced and jumped through a hoop. And all the time an old Tengu sang a dance-song, and another Tengu beat time with a fan.
Kintaro cheered loudly, and clapped his hands; and the beasts and birds barked, hissed, growled, or sang for pleasure. So the morning passed swiftly and delightfully, and the time came for the forest animals to take part in the sports. They did so running, leaping, tumbling, and flying.