by Howard Pyle
But even this was not the best, for Hans Krout knew ever so much more than these things. He knew all about the Moon-Angel and the moon-path and the moon-garden and the moon-house, and he would sometimes tell the little boy about them. That was the most wonderful of all, for all the other things were only fairy tales, but what he told about moonshine was real.
“Were you ever out along the moon-path yourself?” said David.
“Yes,” said Hans Krout. “As true as I sit here. I didn’t know how to travel the moon-path at first, for I hadn’t learned the trick. All the same I knew that Katherine” — Katherine was Hans Krout’s wife—” that Katherine had gone out that way — I mean along the moon-path — with the Moon-Angel. And so I tried and tried, and by and by I learned how to do it. I was down on the shore one night,” said Hans Krout, “and there was the moon-path stretching away toward the moon. I knew that this was just the time to take a walk upon it, for the moon was neither too high toward heaven, nor too low toward the earth. There was a wave coming in toward the shore. Right on top of the wave was a crooked bar of moonlight. I knew that was what I had to stand upon, and so I stepped out. But just as I did so I got frightened, and — souse! there I was in the water over head and ears. Well, what of that? I got out and walked home. But I wasn’t going to give it up — not I. I went out again another day. There was the moon-path, and there was the wave, and there was the bar of moonlight right a-top of the wave. I stepped out again, and this time I wasn’t afraid. This time, would you believe it, I didn’t fall into the water at all. All the same I had to jump off that wave on to another, for the moonlight was sliding away under my feet. It was as slippery as glass. I jumped to the next wave and to the next and to the next, and then I was all right, and it was like gravel under my feet, and I ran just like you run along the shore where the gravel is. Then by and by the path was like a field of pure light with blades of silver grass, and I ran along just as you do when you run across the fields up on the hills.”
“Did you get to the moon?” said David.
“No,” said Hans Krout, “not that time. I did get to the moon afterwards, but not that time.”
“And what was it like inside of the moon?” asked David.
Hans Krout looked at him and smiled just like a little child when it first awakens — a foolish, silly, simple smile that had no more wits in it than moonshine itself. But it seemed to David that his face grew white and shone bright. He got up, took his fiddle down from the wall, and began to play. He played and played, and little David sat and listened and listened, and the baby slept on and smiled and smiled, until Hans Krout grew tired of playing. Then he laid his fiddle aside and began cobbling shoes, rap-tap-tap! and the baby came awake and began reaching for David’s face. “I wish you’d show me how to walk on the moon-path some time,” said David.
“So I will,” said Hans Krout, “if you’ll be a good boy and mind the baby.” Rap-tap-tap! and he drove another peg. Then David heard his mother calling, and he knew he had to go home.
“Moon-calf!” called Tom Stout, as he went along the street. “Moon-calf! Moon-calf! Mooncalf!” called all the other hoys and some of the little girls.
Little David looked over his shoulder and laughed. He did not mind how much they called him moon-calf now, for Hans Krout had promised to show him the way to the moon-path, and if he was to play on the moon-path, why, of course he must he a moon-calf.
IV. David in the Water
THERE IS ONLY one evening or two at most out of all the twenty-eight and a quarter days that it takes for the moon to change from full to Ml in which you can travel upon the moon-path. Maybe after a while, and when you get very well acquainted with the way and know just how to set about it, you can travel the moon-path almost whenever you choose. But when you are learning there is, as I said, only one or, at most, two evenings in all the twenty-eight and a quarter days in which you are able to walk out upon it. Those evenings are the second or third after the full of the moon.
I will tell you why this is so. It is because, when the moon is quite full, there is too much daylight to see the moon-path when the moon first rises. And when the moon is too far past the full, there is too much night to see what you are about. For when you are learning to walk upon the moon-path it must be neither daylight nor dark, but just betwixt and between.
So it is that the proper time comes only twice or thrice in all the twenty-eight and a quarter days that it takes the moon to change from full to full.
“Do you know,” said Hans Krout to David, “that yesterday was the full of the moon?”
“No; I didn’t,” said David. “But what of that?”
“Well, I will tell you,” said Hans Krout; “this evening will be the best time for me to show you the way to walk out upon the moon-path.
“And will you show me the way to-night?” cried the little boy.
“I will,” said Hans Krout, “if you will come to me just after sundown.”
Silly little David could hardly believe his ears.
It was not until after sundown that he was able to leave the baby, for the little one cried and fretted, and fretted and cried, until David thought she would never be quiet. But at last she grew still, and fell fast asleep, with her thumb in her mouth. Then he was able to leave her. He came out into the wide air frill of the brightness of the twilight that had not yet turned into dusk. There was Hans Krout waiting for him in front of the cobbler shop, shading his eyes with his hand.
“Hi! David,” he said, “I have been waiting for you a long, long time.”
“Well,” said David, “here I am.”
“Aye;” said Hans Krout, “there you are. Part of you here, part of you there. That’s the way to travel the moon-path.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” said David.
“Don’t you?” said Hans Krout, as he looked silly and laughed.
He took David by the hand and led him away up the village street. The little boys and some of the little girls were chasing around and around the grassy common. The geese were cackling, and the cows were lowing, as they were turned out to grass again for the night. Everything looked strange and gray and still in the bright, shadowless twilight. The little boys and the little girls stopped their play and stood looking after Hans Krout and silly little David. Then they began halloing after them. Some of them said:
“Hans Krout, Hans Krout,
Your wits are out, your wits are out!”
And some called, “Moon-calf! Moon-calf!” after David.
David looked up into Hans Krout’s face, and he looked so strange, that the little boy was almost frightened.
Thus they walked on together, hand in hand. By and by they left the village behind, and were going along the rocky shore of the sea. They went along, climbing up and down the stony path, until at last they came to a place where David had never been before. Here there was a level shelf of rock, and against the foot of the shelf the waves came in from the sea beyond, rising and falling as though the water was breathing. The light was growing more and more gray. David looked up. There was just one bright star shining in the pallid sky.
Hans Krout stood quite still, holding him by the hand, and looking out toward the purple gray of the east. Little silly David looked up now at the star, and now at Hans Krout’s face, and every now and then out across the water. The sky grew darker and darker, and by and by the gray began to change to a dim blue. At first there had been a ruddy light all over the east, as though the sunshine lingered over yonder, after it had left everywhere else. Then, after awhile, that too had faded out, and had changed to blue-gray, and looked almost like a hank of clouds. Then the yellow moon came slowly up, out of nowhere. First the rim of it showed, then the half of it, then the whole of it. Then it floated up, slowly, slowly, into the soft, dark sky, like a golden bubble. Hans Krout’s face shone as though the moonlight were shining upon it. “Wait a little,” said he.
The moon rose higher and higher, and little David held his br
eath. There was the moon-path stretching across the water. “Yonder it is,” said Hans Krout, “and now is your time.”
“What shall I do?” said the little boy.
“Step out like a soldier,” said Hans Krout.
“But what shall I step upon?” said David.
“There,” said Hans Krout, “don’t you see that bar of light on the tip-top of that wave? Step on the top of that, and then you will know what to do next.”
Poor little David’s head seemed to spin. The wave came closer and closer. “Now, then,” said Hans Krout, “step out like a soldier — quick!” Then David did as Hans Krout told him. He stepped out on the crest of the wave as it came up against the shelf of rock. It seemed to him he stood so for a moment upon the slippery bar of light; then he felt suddenly very much afraid. “Oh, I am falling!” he piped shrilly. Then — souse! — he was struggling and choking in the deep water that gurgled above his head. Once he came up to the top of the water. He saw a glimpse of the moon, and of Hans Krout, and then he was down again — struggling and choking. Somebody caught him by the collar — it was Hans Krout. The next moment he was dragged up on the rock like a drowning kitten. He gasped and choked and gasped again. Then he began to cry. Hans Krout seemed to he frightened at what he had done. He stood for a moment looking at David as he shivered, and shook, and cried; then he turned and walked away back toward the village, with the poor little boy trotting behind him still crying and shivering, the salt water and the salt tears trickling down his poor little thin face.
Hans Krout did not stop at David’s house to tell them how it happened. He hurried home almost as though he were running away. David’s father was sitting mending his nets. He looked up as David came creeping in, wet and shivering. “Thunder and lightning!” said David’s father, taking the pipe out of his mouth, “what has happened to you, little child?”
“I tried to walk on the moon-path,” said little David, “and I fell through it into the water. That is all.”
“Tried to walk on the moon-path!” said David’s father. “What does the child mean?”
“Hans Krout took me out,” said David, “and showed me the moon-path, and how to walk on it; but when I stepped on it I got frightened and slipped through into the water.”
David’s father sat staring at him, holding his pipe in his crooked brown fingers. “What is all this nonsense?” said he. “Hans Krout, is it? — showing you the moon-path? Well, you shall go with Hans Krout no more, for he is crazy and knows not what he does. Here, Margaret, take the child and put him to bed. Why, he is cold to the marrow! Moon-path! The crazy shoemaker will be the death of somebody yet!”
So David’s mother put him to bed, and David cried himself to sleep.
V. The Moon-Angel
HANS KROUT SEEMED almost afraid of David for a while after that. He would not speak to the little boy on the street, and even when David came to the cobbler-shop he would not play his fiddle. Neither would he tell David the story of the Princess in the Glass Hill with three lions at the door, and the Prince with the red band around his wrist. Once he had promised to tell the story, but now he would not. He just stitched and rapped and cobbled at his shoes as though he had wits for nothing else.
“Are you angry with me, Hans?” said David.
“I am not,” said Hans.
“What is it, then?” said David.
“It is nothing,” said Hans.
“But will you not tell me the story?” said David.
“I will not,” said Hans.
“Why not?” said David.
“Because the Master Cobbler has stopped up my wits with shoe-maker’s wax,” said Hans.
“Who is the Master Cobbler?” said David.
“No matter,” said Hans.
David sat for a long time looking at Hans. “Will you show me the moon-path again some time?” said he, after a while.
“I do not know,” said Hans Krout, without looking up, “that depends.”
“Depends upon what?” said David.
“Depends upon the Master Cobbler,” said Hans.
So all that month Hans Krout was dull and silent and stupid, and would hardly speak to David. He would not even look at the baby, and so David had to go off by himself to find amusement elsewhere.
There was a place down by the sea-shore where he always went at such times; he called it his sea-house. There was a little sandy, gravelly floor, with the rocks all around it. There was a pool of water full of sea-weed, and strange things that were alive — sea-anemones and crabs and shell-fish. Everything smelt salt, and out beyond you could see the sea, with the sun shining and sparkling and dancing on the waves. That was where David used to go by himself with the baby to he alone.
It was there that he first saw the Moon-Angel.
This is how it was: the baby had been fretting and crying, and David’s mother was very cross, for she had been sitting up the night before with poor little Barbara Stout, who was very sick, so that Barbara’s mother might get a little wink of sleep. So David took the baby to make her quiet, and as soon as he had done so, she stuck her thumb in her mouth and stopped crying. The sun was shining warm and bright, and David took the baby down to his sea-house. The wind was blowing, and he sat looking out across the sea and at the big waves that rose and fell as though the water were breathing long and deep, — the big waves that soughed and sighed among the rocks as though the sea were murmuring in its sleep. All over the bosom of the waves there were little wavelets that leaped and skipped and winked and twinkled as the breeze came chasing them. The sea-gulls hovered and skimmed overhead, looking down at David and laughing “ha-ha-ha” in the sunlight.
So there David sat and looked out across the wide, bright, deep, breathing water and the dancing little waves, and the baby lay with her thumb in her mouth, staring up into the blue sky.
Then he saw the Moon-Angel for the first time.
“Why not try the moon-path to-night?” said a voice behind David. David turned his head quickly, and the baby turned her head also, for she heard the voice as well as David.
David thought at first it was Hans Krout, the cobbler, but it was not. It was the Moon-Angel.
David knew who it was as soon as he set eyes on him, for David was of that kind who can see more through the square hole of a millstone than t’ other side of it, and so he knew it was the Moon-Angel as soon as he set eyes on him. The Moon-Angel’s face shone as white as silver, and his hair floated out like a bright cloud around the moon. He had on a long, dim, silver-white robe that reached to his hare feet, and though the robe was perfectly plain and dim silver-white, yet it sparkled all over with little stars, just as the dim silver-white gray sky sparkles here and there with stars when the moon is full.
That is what David saw.
To most people the Moon-Angel appears terrible. For there are few folk, unless it is a mooncalf like David, who can see him in his true shape, with his face shining brightly, and his hair flowing, and his dim silver-white robe sparkling with stars.
David took off his hat, and the baby laughed without taking her finger out of her mouth. “I would like to try again,” said he; “I did try once, but I couldn’t do it.”
“Why?” said the Moon-Angel, and he smiled till his face shone white like the moon.
“I got frightened and fell into the water,” said David.
“But you shouldn’t have been frightened,” said the Moon-Angel.
“But I couldn’t help it,” said David.
“And what did Hans Krout do then?” asked the Moon-Angel.
“He went home,” said David, “and he’s never said a word about the moon-path from that day to this.”
Again the Moon-Angel smiled, and his face shone brighter than ever. “Well,” said he, “Hans Krout is a very good man and a great friend of mine. He can show you the way, and there is no man about here who can show you the way. Go to him and tell him that he is to show you the way to walk on the moon-path to-night.”
“Who shall I tell him sent me?” said David.
“Tell him the Master Cobbler sent you,” said the Moon-Angel.
“Oh, yes,” said David, “now I know whom he meant by the Master Cobbler.”
“Yes,” said the Moon-Angel, “that is right Well, then, maybe I will see you after a while. Just now I am very busy. Good-by.”
David still looked at the Moon-Angel. The Moon-Angel glimmered and glimmered and faded and was gone, and where he had been was nothing but the sky and the rocks. David almost wondered whether he had seen the Angel or not — whether what he had seen was really the Angel’s face or just the bright sky shining between the rocks.
Afterwards he knew well enough he had really seen the Moon-Angel, for it was just after this that little Barbara Stout’s mother began crying and clapping her hands together, and that the neighbors came in and found that the little sick girl had died.
But David knew nothing of that. He got up and, carrying the baby, went off to Hans Krout and told him what he had seen and what the Moon-Angel had said to him. “Yes,” said Hans Krout, “that was His Serene Highness, the Master Cobbler, for sure and certain. Well, well, since he says so, I will take you down to the moon-path to-night, and we will try it again.”
“And what do you suppose the Moon-Angel was doing about here?” said David.
“He came to take the little sick Barbara away to the moon-garden,” said Hans Krout. Then he took down his fiddle and began to play for the first time in a month, and David sat and listened, and the baby went to sleep.
That night Hans Krout led David down to the moon-path again, for it was the day after the fall moon. They went off together just as they had done before; out of the village and along the stony path among the boulders, until they came to the same place where they had been before — the flat rock against which the waves came in from the wide sea beyond. Again they sat there waiting and waiting while the sky grew from rosy to gray, and from gray to purple, and from purple to dusk; until the moon rose as yellow as honey over the edge of the ocean; until it floated like a bubble up into the sky — then there was the moon-path just as it had been before.