Each day that he wore the belt he grew more insolent and vain. He spent all his time in admiring himself and the belt. And each day the pearls grew dimmer. He saw that they were fading, and he tried to brighten them. He bathed them in the river and polished them with care, but they did not regain their lustre.
One night when the moon had waned and come again, he was out in his canoe on the river. He had asked a younger boy to go with him, for he feared that, if alone, the spirit would meet him. The child asked him repeatedly where he had found the belt; finally becoming enraged at his questions, the boy raised his paddle and struck him. He fell backward into the water. The boy did not attempt to help him, but turned his back upon him, and paddled swiftly away.
The Spirit of the River saw it all, and hastening to the child, she bore him safe to the shore. The boy hastened up the river until he saw with alarm that he was near the sand-bar where he had secured the belt; and when he felt a hand steadily drawing him to the bar, he was frantic with fear. He resisted with all his might, but the canoe kept steadily on. When it reached the bar, he was thrown violently out on to the sand, and the boat drifted away bottom upward. He sprang to his feet, and was confronted by the spirit; but now she was no delicate girl, but a woman, strong and terrible.
“Give me the pearls,” she said, “and the river shall hide them henceforth from the greed of mortals.” The boy sullenly returned the belt; and, at a word from the spirit, there came up through the sand and from the river thousands of mussels. Each shell was gaping wide, and into each she dropped a pearl. When all were gone, the shells closed with a snap, and disappeared as quickly as they had come.
The spirit turned to the boy. “Since you know the secret that the river would keep, your lips must be always closed. Stay by these waters forever, and search in vain for the pearls.”
So saying, she changed him into a sand-hill crane, and he may still be seen, standing on the sand-bars, looking intently into the water for the pearls.
“We have seen him,” cried the children. “He was over on that sand-bar, on the other side of the river, this afternoon.”
By and by the smallest child said, softly, “I am sorry for that poor, naughty, sandhill crane.”
XII.
THE MIST LADY.
