Page:Folk-lore - A Quarterly Review. Volume 29, 1918.djvu/87

 Rh His mother was so moved with pity that she had to wipe away her tears with a dry leaf. Medio-pollito started at a brisk run, flapped his wing, and crowed thrice in token of farewell. On reaching the bank of a river that was almost dry—for it was the hot season—he lighted on a point in its course where the scanty thread of water was blocked by some branches of a tree. The stream on catching sight of the traveller said, "You see, my friend, how weak I am. I can scarcely move an inch. I have not strength enough to push aside these little boughs that obstruct my course. Nor can I make a circuit to avoid them, because it would very greatly fatigue me. You can easily deliver me from these straits by removing the boughs with your beak. In return for this favour you can not only quench your thirst in my stream, but you can count on my help, when the rain from heaven shall repair my strength." The chicken replied, "I can, but I won't. Do I look like a servant to poor dirty streams?" "You will remember me when you least expect it," murmured the stream in a feeble voice. "You will be boasting next of your swollen stream," said Medio-pollito, with a cunning look. "One would suppose you are reckoning on having the waters of the flood."

A little further on the young cock met with the wind, which lay stretched as if dead upon the ground. "Dear Medio-pollito," he said, "in this world we all have need one of another. Come near and look at me. Do you see how the summer heat has laid me low—me, who lifted the waves on high, and levelled the plains—me who found nothing to resist my power? These dog-days have killed me. I fell asleep, intoxicated with the scent of the flowers, with which I sported, and here you find me fainting away. If you would just lift me two inches from the ground with your beak and fan me with your wing, I should be strong enough to take to flight, and to steer my way to the cavern, where my mother and sisters, the storm winds, are occupied in patching some old clouds that I rent asunder. There they will give me something to refresh me, and I shall recover my strength."

"Sir," answered the wicked cock, "often enough have you amused yourself at my expense, pushing me from behind, and