by Howard Pyle
“Good-by,” said the Man-in-the-moon, taking off his hat again as he took David’s hand, “I hope you will come to see us again.”
“Oh, yes,” said David, laughing, “I dare say I’ll often be here.”
“That’s right,” said the Man-in-the-moon. “Come again.”
David leaped down to the moon-path below. “Come, Phyllis,” said he. “Here, you hold the Wonder-Box, and I will help you down.” And as he spoke he gave the box to her, and then taking her hand, he lifted her down to the path where he himself stood.
“Good-by,” said the Man-in-the-moon, and then he closed the door again — Click-clack!
“Come,” said David, and then they turned their faces homeward.
They turned their faces homeward, and —
In an instant Phyllis was gone, and David stood alone, and what was more, she had taken the Wonder-Box with her.
Yes, he was alone. And why was that? Think a moment, and you will see for yourself. This is why she was gone: —
Everybody, you see, has a different moon-path from everybody else. David’s moon-path led to his home; Phyllis’s moon-path led to her home. So, when they began to return back to the brown earth again, one went one way and the other went the other way.
That was why in an instant Phyllis was gone.
David stood looking about him ruefully for a moment, and then he began to laugh.
For he knew that Phyllis was not gone for long. Things do not turn out so in the land of moonshine.
He put up his hand and felt the golden key that hung about his neck. “Oh, well,” he said, “it will all turn out right, by and by.”
Then he himself started off homeward. At first he walked, then he hurried, then he ran. First it was like walking on a level pasture of silvery light, then it was like hurrying over shifting gravel beneath his feet. Then it was he began to run. The rocky shore came nearer and nearer. Yes; there was Hans Krout sitting on the rocks, looking out toward him. David ran and ran. The golden gravel of brightness began to change to broken bars of light that floated each upon the crest of a wave. Now David was running, leaping from wave to wave. He stepped upon the last wave; the moonlight wriggled and twisted beneath his feet like something alive. Then he jumped stumblingly, regained his footing, and stood upon the rocks of the dear brown earth again.
“How goes it, David?” said Hans Krout, “It goes well,” said David. “How are they at home?”
“They are well,” said Hans Krout.
“How is the baby?” said David.
“The baby is thirteen years old,” said Hans Krout.
“To be sure she is,” said David, “I had forgotten that. Have they missed me from home?” he asked.
“Nobody knows that you have been away,” said Hans Krout.
“How long have I been in the moon?” said David.
“You have been there eleven years,” said Hans Krout.
“To be sure,” said David. He put up his hand to his face. He felt a soft beard on his chin and a moustache on his lip. He looked down at himself. Yes; he had indeed grown into a man. And yet nobody knew that he had been away and had done the greatest work of a hero — that he had slain the Iron Man. Well, that is the way it is in this world often and often.
XVII. David
WHEN DAVID LOOKED about him he saw that it was neither day nor night, but just the twilight betwixt and between — that twilight in which the earth is all bathed in a soft, warm, milky whiteness, that makes everything look bright toward the east, but in which there is no shadow to make what we see look harsh and hard.
David and Hans Krout walked along the rocky path toward the village together. “Did you see the moon-garden?” said Hans Krout.
“Yes; I did,” said David.
Hans Krout clucked his tongue behind his teeth. “Ah,” said he, “I was never able to do that. I was too old.”
“Yes,” said David, “I suppose you were. I saw you one time and waved my hand to you,” he added.
“Yes,” said Hans Krout, “I remember. I saw you looking out of the window, and waved my hand to you, too.”
“Yes,” said David.
“And where were you for the ten years after that?” said Hans Krout.
“I was behind the Moon-Angel,” said David.
“Ah! and did you get there?” said Hans Krout. “Well, I tried it and tried it, but never could get there. I would have given all of the world to have gotten there, but I couldn’t.”
“That is because you did try,” said David. “The way to get there is not to try at all.”
“I never thought of that before,” said Hans Krout. “Oh, well, I shall get behind the Moon-Angel some time.”
“To be sure,” said David, “we all of us do.”
He did not tell Hans Krout whom he had seen and what he had done behind the Moon-Angel.
So they walked together through the twilight, until by and by they had come up over the hill, and there was the village beneath them. Lights were beginning to twinkle, and the geese were squawking, and little children were playing, shouting, and calling with loud voices. There were the boats down upon the shore, and the moon sailing up in the sky like a great round bubble, and laying a wider and wider field of silver across the water. They went past the common, where the children were at play. How strangely familiar it all was — just as it had been eleven years ago. The children pointed at David and Hans Krout, and jeered and laughed at them just as they used to do. “Moon-calf! Moon-calf!” they called; and —
“Hans Krout! Hans Krout!
Your wits are out! Your wits are out!”
David burst out laughing. He did not know any of the children. How should he, seeing that he had been away from home eleven years?
“Have they been calling after me then for all this time?” he asked Hans Krout.
“Yes,” said Hans Krout; and he looked up in David’s face almost as though he were afraid of him.
There were some young men standing in front of the pot-house, and they grinned at the two as they passed. It seemed to David that he knew them. Yes; one of the men was Tom Stout. The young women they passed laughed at them, too. It seemed strange to David that they should be young women, for when he had left them they were but little girls.
So he walked down the street, and there was his old home. His mother was standing at the door, and her hair had grown as white as silver. He could see his father within the house. He was sitting over the fire, holding his crooked brown hands to the blaze. He had been out fishing and he had not yet got warm.
“Where have you been all this time, David?” said his mother.
“I have been in the moon-house and in the moon-garden, and back of the Moon-Angel,” said David.
“Aye, aye; poor boy, poor boy!” said his mother.
His father looked over his shoulder and grunted.
“The same moon-calf as ever,” said he.
“Yes,” said David, “the same moon-calf as ever,” and then again he burst out laughing.
There was not a single one in the whole village, from old Solomon Grundy to David’s own father and mother (except Hans Krout), who knew that he had been away from home; still less that he had lived through the most wonderful, strange, incredible, ever-to-be-talked-of adventure that ever a hero faced to come forth from alive.
“And what are you going to do now, David?” said David’s mother.
“I am going to wait,” said David.
It seemed to her that David was very foolish.
So David sat down to wait.
XVIII. The King’s Messenger
SO DAVID THE hero waited and waited.
He used to help his father and his mother, and when he was not doing that he was playing with some of the little, little babies of the village. The little babies understood him, though nobody else did. Everybody else laughed at him; even his little sister, whom he used to nurse when she was a baby and who had now grown up into a tall, thin girl of twelve or thirteen — e
ven she laughed at him as did the others in the village, and called him moon-calf. She had forgotten how he had carried her in his arms down to the rocks, and how there both of them had seen the Moon-Angel.
The truth is that the Moon-Angel comes with a sponge at some time to each of us and wipes our memories clean of everything that happens to us from the time we begin to live to the time we are three years old. That is why David’s little sister did not remember how they had seen the Moon-Angel together, and that was why she laughed at him now as the others did and called him mooncalf.
But the little babies all understood David, and so he used to play with them.
All that land was in a great hubbub of rejoicing.
The Princess Aurelia, the most beautiful in all the world, had suddenly come back into her senses again, and now she was as wise as anybody else.
That was cause enough of rejoicing, but it was as nothing when it was known that the Wonder-Box and the Know-All Book had been brought back to earth again, Yes; they had been brought back again, but the box was locked, and there was no key, and no one could open it. All the world knew, however, that the key was to be found, for the Princess told how David had hung it about his neck, and so there was joy and rejoicing.
But who was the hero? who had brought the lost treasure hack to the earth again? No one could tell, not even the Princess. “They called him David,” said she, “but I do not even know if that was his real name.”
“And do you know,” said the King, “what has been promised to the hero who shall bring back the Wonder-Box and the Know-All Book?” And then, when the Princess did not reply, he said, “It is that he shall marry you.”
The Princess still looked down and raised her pretty eyebrows and blushed, twining her smooth white fingers in and out. “When we were children together in the moon-garden, he told me that it was to be so,” said she.
“And are you willing?” said the King. “Are you willing that it should be so?”
“Yes,” whispered the Princess Aurelia.
So the King sent out his messengers through all the land to find the hero who had the golden key of the Wonder-Box hung about his neck. For he was to marry the Princess.
Meantime over yonder in the village David waited and waited, for he knew that every beginning must have its ending some time or other.
The King’s messengers, each with six knights and a herald, went everywhere — east and west, north and south — to all of the great cities and towns in the kingdom, but nowhere could the hero he found — the man with the golden key hung about his neck.
Then they went to the villages, one after the other; and so, by and by, one of the messengers came to the village where David and his father and mother lived.
It was a grand sight — the King’s messenger, the six knights in armor, and the herald with his silver horn with a golden banner hanging from it. The herald sounded his horn as they all marched to the common where the geese fed and the little children played, and there he proclaimed in a loud voice that the King had sent his messenger to find the man who had a golden key hung by a golden chain about his neck.”
Everybody crowded about to listen to him, and to gape at him — men, women, and children.
“Have you got it? — Have you got it? — Have you got it?” said the men to one another.
“No; I have not got it,”—” Nor!”— “nor I.” Nobody had it.
“Is there any other man living in the village?” asked the King’s messenger. Then the people began to laugh. “There is a man named Hans Krout,” said one man, “he is a crazy cobbler.”
“Bring him hither,” said the king’s messenger.
Off ran a dozen of them, and presently they returned, bringing Hans Krout with them.
“Have you a golden key hung from your neck by a golden chain?” asked the King’s messenger.
“No,” said Hans Krout, “such a key as that is all moonshine, and, you see, I was never able to bring any back with me.”
“Any what?” said the King’s messenger.
“Any moonshine,” said Hans Krout.
“Ha-ha-ha!” laughed everybody, and even the King’s messenger smiled. They did not know that Hans Krout was the only wise man among them — they all thought he was crazy.
“Is there no other man in the village?” said the King’s messenger.
“Why, yes,” said one of them that stood near — it was Tom Stout—” Why, yes, there is one, but he is only a poor, childish creature of a mooncalf. His name is David, and his father and mother are ashamed of him, because he is so simple.”
“Nevertheless, bring him hither,” said the King’s messenger.
The people looked at one another, and laughed.
“Bring him hither,” said the King’s messenger again, and then a dozen of them ran away to fetch David.
“As soon as they had come into the house, David knew that his waiting had hatched its eggs.
“There’s somebody out here who wants to see you,” said the people who had come to fetch him.
But David only sat still and smiled. “I cannot go to him,” said he.
“But it is the King’s messenger,” said they.
“I will not go even to the King’s messenger,” said David. “If he wants me, he must come to me.”
They talked and talked to David, but all to no purpose. He would not go, and at last they had to go back to the King’s messenger again. “Simpleton has grown proud,” said they; “he says that he won’t come to you and that you must come to him.”
“Very well,” said the King’s messenger, “then I will go to him.”
So off he went across the common, and down the street to David’s house, a great crowd of people following behind him. There was David sitting, waiting, and when the King’s messenger and the six knights and the herald crowded into the place, they filled the house. Yes; a noble sight they were, with silver and gold and bright jewels that gleamed and glistened and seemed to fill the place with light.
The people who had followed the messenger stood outside and peeped in through the windows, and David’s father and mother stood in the corner and stared, with their eyes as round as the eyes of fishes. But David sat still, and looked at the King’s messenger and the knights and the herald, and smiled.
“Have you got a golden key hung about your neck, with a golden chain?” said the King’s messenger.
“Yes; I have,” said David.
“Let me see it!” said the King’s messenger.
David thrust his hand into his bosom, and there was the key hung to the golden chain.
“That is it,” said the King’s messenger. “Blow your horn, herald!” And the herald blew his horn so loud and shrill that the rafters cracked and rang.
As for the people peeping in at the windows, they could not believe their eyes when they saw that David — David the simpleton — David the moon-calf — really had the golden key, and was the hero of heroes of whom all the world was talking.
The King’s messenger took off his hat with its fine feathers, and bowed so low that his head almost touched the floor. And David smiled and put the key hack into his bosom again.
“You must come with us now to the King’s city,” said the King’s messenger.
“Yes,” said David, “that is what I have been waiting for.”
Then they brought up a great white horse with a saddle and bridle sparkling with gold and jewels. The King’s messenger himself held the stirrup, while David mounted into the saddle, and the people stood huddled around staring with wonder. David looked around at them and laughed. Poor Tom Stout’s eyes were staring like those of a calf, and he looked very droll in his wonder.
Then they rode away and down the street, the horses’ hoofs clattering and ringing upon the cobble stones.
“Huzza! huzza!” cried everybody; “Huzza for David the hero!” and they waved their caps above their heads, and some of them threw them in the air. Only the geese upon the common stooped their necks
and hissed after the horses’ heels. “Huzza! huzza! huzza!” and all the girls waved their handkerchiefs.
So David rode away to the King’s palace, and everybody felt proud that such a great hero had been horn in that village.
That is the way it happens sometimes.
XIX. Princess Aurelia
DAVID, AND THE King’s messenger, and the six knights, and the herald rode away along the highway, over hill and dale, and across the meadows and through the towns and villages, and everybody shouted, “Huzza! huzza!” just as they had done down in the village. “Huzza! huzza! for the hero with the golden key to open the Wonder-Box!” The news of his coming spread like wild-fire, and people came from far and near to catch a glimpse of him as he rode by upon his way.
So at last they came to the King’s town.
Thither the news had flown before them, and here, too, everybody shouted, Huzza! Huzza for the man with the golden key who came to unlock the Wonder-Box!” All the town was packed and crowded as they rode through the streets; the windows were alive with folk looking out, and all was a tumult of waving kerchiefs and flags. As for the cheering, it sounded like the noise of great waters.
And in the midst of it all the hero David rode smiling, and his face shone as white as the moon.
So he rode up the great street of the town, and to the King’s palace. And the King himself came out upon the steps to welcome him.
He took David by the hand and led him up the great marble steps, and into the palace, and through the palace to where the Princess Aurelia was waiting. And the lords and nobles, and knights and squires, all dressed in beautiful clothes of gold and silver, with sparkling jewels, made a lane for him up which he was to walk.
The King led him straight to a grand chamber, where was spread a carpet of silver thread, and at the far end sat the Princess Aurelia on a throne. At her right hand was a table, and on it was a box.
It was the Wonder-Box.
She came down the steps to meet him as he came up the steps to meet her. Then she placed her hands on his shoulders and leaned over and kissed him before them all.