“And you too when the frost comes will be numbed to ice,” answered the tree; “but never mind, the spring will follow, and the sun will wake us both.”
But long before the winter had set in, ere yet the last leaf had fallen, there came across the prairie a number of men riding on horses and mules, bringing with them a long waggon. They rode straight to the tree, and foremost among them were the two travellers who had been there before.
“Why do they come? What do they want?” cried the pool uneasily; but the tree feared nothing. The men had spades and pickaxes, and began to dig a deep ditch all round the tree’s roots, and then they dug beneath them, and at last both the pool and the tree saw that they were going to dig it up.
“What are you doing? Why are you trying to wrench up my roots and to move me?” cried the tree; “don’t you know that I shall die if you drag me from my pool which has fed and loved me all my life?” And the pool said, “Oh, what can they want? Why do they take you? The sun will come and dry me up without your shade, and I never, never shall see you again.” But the men heard nothing, and continued to dig at the root of the tree till they had loosened all the earth round it, and then they lifted it and wrapped big cloths round it and put it on their waggon and drove away with it.
Then for the first time the pool looked straight up at the sky without seeing the delicate tracery made by the leaves and twigs against the blue, and it called out to all things near it: “My tree, my tree, where have they taken my tree? When the hot sun comes it will dry me up, if it shines down on me without the shade of my tree.” And so loudly it mourned and lamented that the birds flying past heard it, and at last a swallow paused on the wing, and hovering near its surface, asked why it grieved so bitterly. “They have taken my tree,” cried the pool, “and I don’t know where it is; I cannot move or look to right or left, so I shall never see it again.”
“Ask the moon,” said the swallow. “The moon sees everywhere, and she will tell you. I am flying away to warmer countries, for the winter will soon be here. Good-bye, poor pool.”
At night, when the moon rose, and the pool looked up and saw its beautiful white face, it remembered the swallow’s words, and called out to ask its aid.
“Find me my tree,” it prayed; “you shone through its branches and know it well, and you can see all over the world; look for my tree, and tell me where they have taken it. Perhaps they have torn it in pieces or burnt it up.”
“Nay,” cried the moon, “they have done neither, for I saw it a few hours ago when I shone near it. They have taken it many miles away and it is planted in a big garden, but it has not taken root in the earth, and its foliage is fading. The men who took it prize it heartily, and strangers come from far and near to look at it, because they say it is so rare, and there are only one or two like it in the world.”
On hearing this the pool felt itself swell with pride that the tree should be so much admired; but then it cried in anguish, “And I shall never see it again, for I can never move from here.”