The wonder stick

by Stanton A. Coblentz

"You may do it!" pronounced the chieftain, designating one of the most stalwart-looking of his followers. "You, Kimo the Hairy Mammoth!"

Kimo shuddered; a frightened light flashed from his tiny black eyes. But he answered not a word.

"Kimo will show you that the Sparrow-Hearted has learned no magic at all," concluded the Growling Wolf. "He will walk across the waters very easily—and after that we will punish the Sparrow-Hearted for telling us lies!"

Titters and loud guffaws greeted this speech; and, from the scornful glances in his neighbors' eyes, Ru perceived that his prestige had dwindled toward the vanishing-point.

But it was not his prestige that troubled him now, nor even his impending punishment—it was the treachery of her whom he had adored. Could she actually have told Grumgra the secret he had confided for her ears alone? If so, she was not to be forgiven! Without being able to say why, he felt that a great wrong had been done him. And anger, proportionate to his very helplessness, flamed to life within him. He was gripped by a passion that was almost murderous, and he would have been glad to strike out violently to relieve his overburdened mind and wounded feelings.

Fortunately, it was not possible to strike out violently just then; he had to content himself with clenching and unclenching his fists furiously and kicking savagely at the unoffending soil. That night he could not sleep, but stared out wide-eyed through the long hours at the pale twinkling stars and the weird flickering firelight. When morning came, his frenzy had spent itself; he felt little besides a great weariness, and a disgust that was made up in part of his resentment at the world, and in part of an insatiable vague melancholy. Yet he did find the energy to move his lips in a whispered prayer—and, had one drawn close, one might have heard an invocation to the river-god to bring down vengeance upon his betrayers.

The last star had hardly been extinguished when the camp was astir. Among the first to rise, Ru observed that gigantic figure which he loathed above all others. He noticed apprehensively that Grumgra appeared unusually cheerful this morning, and that, accompanied by two or three of his henchmen, he set off toward the woods with a jauntiness which bespoke no good design.

It was two or three hours later when Grumgra returned. His arrival created a consternation equaled only by that which Ru had caused the day before. Wading through the shallow water near the river bank, he and his helpers were pulling a raft similar to that which Ru had made! Similar, but not quite the same, for it was longer and the logs were thicker, which made it more impressive and also more unwieldy; and the vines and creepers that bound it were fastened in two places instead of in four.

Mounting the bank, the Growling Wolf stood regarding his handiwork with every sign of pleasure, while the vociferous multitude pressed close to see. "Grumgra's magic is better than Ru's!" they cried, jubilantly. "The river-god does great deeds for Grumgra! He has made a bigger wonder than Ru can make!" And many were the exclamations of awe and admiration at the cleverness of Grumgra.

"Now I will show what big lies the Sparrow-Hearted tells! Kimo the Hairy Mammoth, you walk upon the waters!" ordered the chieftain, pointing to the bulky form of the chosen one, who stood cowering in the rear.