The Collected Stories

by Earl

  Out in the glade, the Little Folk reappeared, laughing and dancing again. Even the little girl so near doom was smiling and continuing her gorging on honey and flower-petals. The Festival would be no less merry for the tense episode. It made no difference. Their lives were eared to quick danger, quick battle, quick forgetfulness.

  Nor did it make any difference to Atho. There was no mention, nor did he expect any, of a change in his sentence. Yet for many a long winter, mothers would tell their children of the mighty cast of Atho, killing an owl single-handed.

  The sounds of merriment in the glade faded behind Atho, as he was led away by Zutho. His sentence would begin immediately, and the rest of the Festival Eve he would spend laboring. Atho felt grimly amused over his own situation. He had this night brought the gold watch, almost won Elva, defeated a ferret with bare hands, and killed an owl. It should be a night of triumph. Instead, he was beginning a year’s sentence of woman-status, for meddling with the Big People!

  Thought of the gold watch brought remembrance of Koro, and his boast of bringing back a greater prize . . .

  CHAPTER IV

  Venture Among the Big People

  PAUL SCOTT awoke and raised his head from the pillow.

  The sound he had heard continued, a scrape of leather, clearly audible in the utterly quiet house. It came from the hall, where he remembered now that he had left his binoculars, in their case, on the floor. Was the mysterious intruder back, the one who had stolen Dr. Bolton’s gold watch, a week ago? It was the conclusion they had come to, after much perplexed conjecture—and argument.

  Reaching his hand under the pillow and gripping the pistol there, Scott climbed from his bed and tiptoed to the open door. Listening for a moment, he heard the noises louder now, from the hall. He could see nothing in the pitch darkness, but abruptly the noises ceased.

  And Scott had the weird feeling that eyes were upon him. The hairs of his neck stiffened. Then the noise resumed—a quick tug, a metallic scrape, and a patter of quick footsteps!

  Scott groped frantically for the hall switch, found it, and snapped it on. Light almost blinded him.

  “Stop, or I’ll shoot!” he said hoarsely, waving his gun at chest height. Before he finished he saw that there was no intruder in the hall—at least on a level with his eye.

  Then he glanced down, thinking of his binoculars. An incredulous gasp ripped from his throat.

  There they were, and they seemed to be running away by themselves, the neck-cord dragging! He confusedly made out little legs. Suddenly the binoculars clattered to the floor, half way to the back door. Something small and squirming had tangled in the twists of the cord. It fell and lay quiet, as though stunned.

  It took Scott several seconds to believe what his eyes saw. They were dazzled both by light and incredulity. He stood paralyzed, with no thought of aiming his gun or even moving.

  When he did move, finally, someone else moved before him. It was Dr. Bolton, emerging from his bedroom, directly in front of where the binoculars had fallen. The scientist clutched the little form, just as it recovered and attempted to jump away. He held it up, before their eyes.

  “Paul—Dad—what happened—”

  Helena had slipped from her bedroom and come up behind Scott. Her eyes fastened to what her father held, and slowly widened.

  “Why, it’s—it’s a little man!” she whispered, and for a while no other word was said. Their three pairs of eyes slowly convinced their skeptical brains that it was just that.

  “Well, there it is, Dr. Bolton,” said Scott finally, with a calmness he did not feel. “Our ‘rat,’ and ‘intruder.’ It was trying to carry off my binoculars. Its feet tangled in the cord and it fell. It accounts also for the note in the trap, and for the disappearance of your gold watch. It, or another of the—Little Folk.

  “Little Folk!” echoed Dr. Bolton dazedly.

  “Yes,” mused Scott, the first shock of surprise over. “I’m enough of a student of mythology to believe the Little Folk once existed—and apparently still do! Or call them elves, sprites, fairies, pixies, peri, kobolds—anything you will. Different times had different names for them. They have kept out of man’s sight, living in woodland. There might very likely be a community of them in some hidden grotto in these Catskills, as the original Dutch settlers firmly believed, over a hundred years ago.”

  “Elves, fairies, pixies—” Dr. Bolton was shaking his head, as though unwilling to accept that explanation. “It’s perfectly proportioned, like a human being. Do you suppose it’s intelligent and can understand—” He was suddenly shaking the small form in his hand. “Do you understand our language, little man?” he demanded. “Who are you? What are you—”

  Helena clutched her father’s arm. “Don’t, Dad! You’re frightening him half to death. Poor little creature, look how he’s trembling.”

  “You’ll never get an answer out of him that way,” said Scott, a little angrily, at the scientist’s roughness. “Here—set him on this table and give him a chance to get over his fright. Probably just the sight of us is enough to scare him witless.”

  Dr. Bolton complied, placing the tiny figure on the nearby hall table, under the glow of a lamp. Now they saw clearly that it was a human-proportioned mannikin, six inches high, dressed in a queer, abbreviated costume. Its skin was tanned by outdoor life. It looked like a bronzed little statuette, exquisitely carved. They watched it breathlessly, as it slowly raised on one elbow, peering around. Its little chin quivered. Its tiny eyes shone with fear.

  Scott bent his head over it. He spoke gently. “Don’t be afraid, little man. We won’t harm you. Do you understand me? Are you one of a community of little folk like yourself?”

  The small figure relaxed a little, at the soft, soothing tones. Then, to their startled surprise, it nodded.

  Scott went on excitedly, but still softly. “Can you speak our language? What is your name?”

  KORO’S rapidly beating heart eased now, his first fright over, at being caught by the Big People. This wasn’t so bad. They weren’t going to harm him. He had understood their words, most of them. In common with many of the younger folk, he had learned the Big People’s tongue from old Zutho. It had been great sport, for a while, to speak to each other in their language, and even pretend at times they were the Big Ones.

  Koro was thinking rapidly. He must escape. But for the present, they were watchful. He must lull them, and await his chance. In the meantime, why not talk with them? He felt a sudden surge of wild daring. Yes, why not? It was something no other of the Little Folk had done.

  He stood up, looking at them.

  “I—am—Koro,” he said haltingly. He yelled, knowing they had dull ears. “Koro—of—the—Little—Folk!”

  To Scott and his companions, the little man’s voice was a high-pitched piping, as though a chirping bird had learned to talk. They looked at one another in breathless wonder. Even now they could hardly believe it was true.

  “He speaks our language!” Helena said in awe. “Isn’t it amazing?”

  “Koro, of the Little Folk!” Scott murmured.

  “ ‘Once Upon a Time,’ ” he quoted, “ ‘when fairies lived on Earth’—and they still do!”

  “What a discovery!” Dr. Bolton suddenly burst out, his scientific instincts alert. “What a find! You can call them fairies, if you want, but do you know what this means—scientifically? An unsuspected race of little creatures with intelligence! Little men with human minds! It’s unprecedented. I must study them—”

  He suddenly bent over the tiny captive. “How many of your people are there? Where do you live?”

  Koro shrank back. The First Law rose screamingly in his mind—never to have traffic with the Big People! He must not tell them. He shook his head violently, trembling.

  Scott nodded, intuitively realizing what it meant.

  “He won’t tell you that, Dr. Bolton. The Little Folk keep out of our way, and I can see why. Would we give such information to seventy-foot gi
ants? We caught this little fellow by sheer accident. You wouldn’t get him to betray his people for love or money!”

  “Money—my gold watch—bright things!” Dr. Bolton muttered, in rapid thought. He darted into his bedroom and returned with items which he heaped before the little man—several coins, a pearl-handled penknife, a ring of keys, and his wristwatch.

  “Look, Koro—all yours! And the binoculars, too, since you wanted them.” He used a wheedling tone, as with a child. “I mean no harm to you and your people.”

  “I—will—not—tell!” piped back Koro, though his little eyes glittered at the prizes beside him. “It is against the First Law!”

  “I admire the little fellow!” breathed Helena.

  “Can you blame him for not leading what to him are monsters to his people?” agreed Scott.

  “But I must find out more about this, study them.” Dr. Bolton turned back to the tiny captive. “Koro, would you like to have anything you want? Would you like to have a high place in our world? Honor, prestige, fame—if you understand those things? I can make you an important figure in our world, you and all your people—”

  Koro listened, vaguely stirred, and felt vastly pleased at this eager interest in him.

  But all the while he had been tensing himself. They were not so watchful now, as at first. Suddenly he acted. With the quickness of a mouse he ran to the edge of the table and leaped down. Their clumsy hands clutched at the spot he had been in seconds too late.

  The leap to the floor, though six times his height, meant nothing to his light, springy muscles. He landed catlike, ran to the binoculars still lying there and heaved them to his shoulders in one swift motion. He scuttled across the floor, and this time he made certain the cord trailed safely behind his twinkling feet.

  To Scott and Dr. Bolton, the whole thing was almost a blur of motion. It was like running after a rabbit, when they gave chase. Scott followed, through the hall into the kitchen, and to the basement door, open six inches. He heard the little man bounding down the steps, in the dark. There was no electric switch in the basement. By the time Scott had dashed for the flashlight by the sink, and gone down, there was no sound at all from the little escaped prisoner.

  Ten minutes later, after searching, he found the old rat hole that burrowed through dirt and wood to open air. It was no use to look outside.

  “Well, he got away,” shrugged Scott. “With my hundred dollar binoculars too, the little thief! Imagine a man running at full speed carrying a refrigerator! They must be incredibly strong, for their size. But so are insects.”

  “I’m sort of—of glad he got away,” Helena murmured.

  Dr. Bolton blew up. “The greatest scientific discovery of the century in my hands—and it’s gone!

  Scott, I think you deliberately got in my way, and made only a half-hearted chase. I’ve seen you move twice as fast on a football field.”

  Scott smiled but said nothing.

  CHAPTER V

  Koro’s Revenge

  KORO strode into the glade, with his mighty prize on his back.

  Some of the young people danced there, in the light of the crescent moon. In the day-time, the Little Folk slept. But every night, between shifts of their light labors, there was dancing and music and laughter, for the Little Folk enjoyed life.

  Koro was weary and somewhat thin. For a week he had struggled back, over hill and valley, resting often with his huge burden. But now his spirit sang. Elva was there, dancing, and there was no Atho present to spoil the moment. Atho was down in the village, with the women, laboring out the terms of his sentence.

  “Eyoo!” called Koro. “It is I, Koro. And look what I have brought!”

  The merrymakers turned and watched in wonder. Koro strode directly before Elva and lowered his prize. Its two tubes glinted with glass at both ends, and its shiny metallic surface sparkled brightly.

  “How huge it is! That is a wonderful prize! What is it, Koro?” the crowd demanded.

  “The Big People call it ‘binoculars,’ ” stated Koro proudly. “When you look through one end of either tube, everything becomes tiny. When you look through the other end, everything grows large and near!”

  There was a scramble to test this amazing statement. Awed gasps arose as some managed to peer through, at both ends, seeing each other’s faces either reduced or enlarged.

  “I brought it for you, Elva,” Koro announced boldly. “No other has brought back a greater prize for the girl he—admires. Not even Atho, with his paltry gold watch!”

  Elva started, at the name Atho, but she didn’t say anything.

  “You are speechless, Elva, at the magnificence of the prize!” Koro crowed. “I will dance with you tonight, Elva. And—talk with you!”

  Elva answered finally. “You must be very tired, Koro. Perhaps you had better rest—”

  “Tired?” Koro scoffed. He swung the prize to his shoulder again. “Come, we will show this to Atho himself!”

  The procession, with Koro at the head, marched through their thicket paths to the main center of their community, beyond the dancing glade.

  “Eyooo!” the cry went up. “Koro has come back with a mighty prize!”

  Then, in chorus—

  “The Big Ones are clumsy and witless,

  We are so clever and spry,

  They never will, never will catch us,

  Not to the day we die!”

  Koro stopped before the hollowed stump which held part of their stores of food, slowly being readied for the coming winter. The strong bark door, seemingly a part of the original surface, swung outward in his hands, to reveal Atho cutting insect flesh with a group of women.

  “Eyoo, Atho!” called Koro. “Leave the other women for a moment and come out. Look at my prize, beside which your gold watch is nothing!”

  Atho came out. He gasped a little.

  “You took that from the Big People?” He went on honestly. “Yes, it is a greater prize than mine.”

  Koro stared around proudly. It was good to be the hero of the hour, in all their admiring eyes. He caught Elva’s eye.

  “Elva, come here,” he said confidentially. “Before all, I will avow my intentions toward you—”

  Elva moved, but she stepped beside Atho.

  “And I,” she spoke clearly, “avow my intentions—that I am betrothed to Atho, if he will have me. And I will marry him when his year’s penance is over!”

  A WONDERING, joyful light came over Atho’s face. Since the start of his woman-status he had not had the right or opportunity to speak words of love to her. And his humiliation had been great. For many days he had wondered if Elva would learn to despise him. Now his doubts and inner tortures were dissolved.

  The crowd about tinkled out in happy cheering. For over a year the little community had wondered which Elva, the fairest of girls, would choose of Atho and Koro, the two most spirited of the young men.

  Koro’s face darkened, as the acclaim of the audience showed their whole-hearted favor of the choice. Hatred poured from his eyes toward his triumphant rival. As Atho and Elva kissed before all, sealing their betrothal, daggers pierced Koro’s heart.

  A sudden hush came over the assemblage.

  One of the Elders had come down the path. What is all this hubbub about among you young ones?” demanded old Zutho. “A betrothal? Is that cause for disturbing—”

  He stopped, as his eyes fell on the binoculars, and then transferred to Koro.

  “You have dared take such an enormous thing from the Big People, Koro, perhaps at considerable risk?” he snapped angrily. “This prize-seeking will yet lead to trouble. There must be a stop to it. Next some young fool will attempt a prize beyond his powers, and the First Law will be violated. Koro, did the Big People hear or see you at all?”

  Koro started. All the way back from his venture, he had told himself over and over that he must never tell what had transpired. He avoided Zutho’s eyes.

  “Of course we won’t harm you,” assured Dr. B
olton. He went on eagerly. “And will you show us where you little folk live?”

  “Yes—on one condition. There is a girl called Elva—”

  Scott interrupted, grasping the scientist’s arm. “I don’t think we should have anything to do with it,” he asserted. “This little beggar is a renegade, betraying his people!”

  “Yes, Dad,” Helena chimed in, frowning at the little man. “We have no right to—”

  “No,” he muttered.

  Wise old Zutho caught something in his face. “Koro! You are hiding something! Answer me truthfully!”

  “Nothing, Father. Nothing happened!” But Koro’s voice was quivering. The fright of that moment when he was caught by the Big People came back vividly.

  “Koro!” persisted the Elder. “Something frightened you terribly, back among the Big Ones. Tell me what happened. You must! Perhaps the whole safety of our people lies at stake. Koro, speak!”

  Weakened by his arduous journey, and his nerves already upset by Elva’s choosing of Atho, Koro broke down. He told the whole story, with the hysteria of a cornered rat.

  When he had finished, Zutho’s face first showed relief. “Luckily you escaped, before harm was done.” Then his face became stern, grim. “But the prize seeking must stop. In behalf of the Elders, I hereby forbid it, from this moment on. And Koro, you must be punished . . .

  Eyes slowly widened, as they saw what rested in Zutho’s relentless face.

  “I sentence you to woman-status for life!”

  Koro’s shoulders sagged as though a mountain had fallen on them. For the first time, the crowd about realized what a potential menace the Big Ones must be, if the Elders imposed such drastic sentence on what was still not an actual violation of the First Law. For Koro had not had traffic with them willingly and had only been caught through over-eager effort in prize seeking.

  Koro turned away brokenly. Even Atho and Elva pitied him.

  But that same night, Koro was mysteriously gone from the community of Little Folk. . . .