To tell the complete story of the Black Hus would take as many years as civilized man has been on earth. The largest state in the Union is scarcely big enough to contain the books that could be written about the terrible monster.

Even today there is a Hus in every country, but this particular Hus lived in Greece many hundred years ago. It was related to the Hebrew Chazir spoken of in the Bible.

You remember the Chazir that attacked Noah when he was making merry in his tent. Noah was drinking some good wine, when all at once the beast rushed upon him, tore his clothing and seized him by the throat. When his sons came to his rescue, they found their father lying naked in his tent, in a helpless condition, and the dreadful Chazir standing over him. As soon as the beast saw the stalwart sons, he fled into the night.

You remember that it was Ham who laughed at his father's condition, because he had not seen the Chazir, but only his father's foolish condition. Ham's two brothers, Shem and Japheth, covered their father with a sheepskin blanket and went their way much wiser.

Passing now to Greece, we read of a nobleman there who had many sons and daughters. The eldest son, who was the apple of his eye, he called Egkartes because he was a good, honest fellow.

"Egkartes," the father said one day, "I am going to give you the next litter of pigs born on the farm."

This was a fine offer, for it meant the beginning of the boy's fortune.

Not long after this there was a family of thirteen little pigs on the farm. Twelve of the baby pigs were perfectly white, but one little fellow's skin was black as pitch, and his eyes were red as live coals. Almost as soon as he was born he began to show a savage disposition.

The black fellow soon awakened the curiosity of the neighborhood. No pig like him anywhere to be seen. He grew twice as fast as his little brothers, and daily became more savage. When eighteen months old, he weighed fifteen hundred pounds, and had to be kept in a separate pen and watched day and night for fear he would devour his brothers. People came from far and near to see the monster, and went away thanking their stars that he was not allowed to run at large.

One beautiful autumn day the nobleman gave a thanksgiving dinner for his freemen. The best of foods and drinks were served, and the men ate till they could eat no more, and drank till they could scarcely see. They became very noisy and filled the banqueting hall with such profane language that the Greek maids who had been engaged to dance for their amusement fled in fear.

No sooner had they gone than the black pig appeared in the hall. Some of the men rose to drive him back to his pen, but he would not go. He stood before their blurred eyes, shaking his ugly head and gnashing his terrible teeth.

Some of the stupid fellows thought that the pig must be mad; others said he must be a devil clothed in pig's flesh. They all kept a safe distance from him, hiding wherever they could, till at last Egkartes cautiously approached the monster, intending to lead him to his pen, as the youth had done on like occasions. But when as usual, he took the pig by the ear, the beast turned upon him with a thundering roar, seized his arm, and shook him as a terrier shakes a rat.

Then the half-drunken father, staggering to his son's help, beat the animal over the head with a great stick; but this only increased the pig's fury, and dropping the boy, he ran amuck against the company, biting every man in the room.

One man, trying to escape by jumping over the pig, landed at full length on the creature's back, where he clung for dear life. The black pig did his best to shake the man off, but he held on with might and main. Round and round spun the pig squealing and grunting furiously. The man kept his hold so firmly, that at length some of his companions crept from their hiding places and cheered the plucky rider.

Finally the pig sprang through the door and ran for the open country, the man clinging to him like a "broncho-buster," while his companions—as many as were not too stupified by excess at table—gave chase, frantically shouting. Down the lane the strange steed charged, over the fence he leaped, madly shaking himself at every jump, and continued his career till he came to a narrow footbridge over a deep river, and tried to cross it. As he reached the middle of the bridge, he slipped and rolled into the stream below, carrying his rider with him.

When he reappeared the man was swimming desperately for the bank, which he soon succeeded in reaching. The pig also landed safely and disappeared into the opposite woods.

"Well, boys!" exclaimed the pig rider, sobered, "that was a narrow escape! That little bridge saved my life. That was one time when I needed some one to help me let go!"

These men were a sorry-looking crew as they returned home tattered and torn. There was not a man among them with a whole garment.

The Hus never came back to the farm.

When the story of his antics was repeated from mouth to mouth, people would not believe it. But the monster was by no means through. A month later he appeared in the Royal City and killed many of its inhabitants. The rumor spread everywhere that the Hus was devouring the men of Greece.

The king was much alarmed and offered a reward for its capture, but the dreadful destruction went on. Finally his Majesty offered the hand of his only daughter and the half of his kingdom to the man who would slay the brute. But in spite of all endeavors to win so great a prize, the pig continued his terrible work, appearing now here, now there, and killing even the bravest men of the kingdom. Strange to say the monster seldom attacked women.

A year passed, and the Hus had grown to a more enormous size. Some said that he was as big as an elephant.

For a long time the nobleman and his family had to remain in hiding because of the fury of the multitude, who blamed him for raising the pig. The king seized his property, and the nobleman became a poor man and for some years he and his family were outcasts.

At last Egkartes determined to redeem his father's good name and, if possible, win the fair princess.

His father and mother were pleased with his boldness and readily consented to his undertaking. At once great preparations were made, and five men were persuaded to accompany the young adventurer. With brave hearts they set forth, confident of victory.

On the third day, as they approached the city they met a woman crying as if her heart must break. She told them that on the night before, her husband had been killed by some monster. She described the spot, near her dwelling, where she had found her husband, Methuson, dying on the roadside. "I ran to him," she said, "and held his head in my arms. His clothes were torn almost off his back. When I spoke to him, he opened his eyes and muttered something about a black beast, and then fell back senseless."

The men accompanied the poor weeping woman to her miserable hut, and as they stepped within and beheld Methuson and sniffed the odor of the place, they knew that the Hus was the beast that had done the deed.

Egkartes stooped and listened over the unconscious man's heart for some sign of life. In a few moments he rose to his feet, and turning to the wife, exclaimed: "Your husband is not dead!"

Sure enough the unfortunate fellow sat up. His eyes were red and inflamed, his temper was likewise fiery, for he broke into loud curses. But in a little while he recovered his reason and thanked his deliverers. Methuson begged to be allowed to accompany the band of Hus-hunters, and they readily gave their consent.

Toward evening of the next day, as they neared the City, they heard more news of the monster, who had been doing terrible damage to the people of the suburbs. Late that evening seven weary men crawled into beds in a very humble lodging-house.

As Egkartes felt himself slipping into a comfortable sleep, he was startled by the cry of a woman. He ran out to the house across the street, whence came the cry, and entered without knocking.

He found a mother holding her baby high up, while the awful Hus kept snapping at the child. A dozen men were in the room, sleeping off a debauch. Egkartes sprang at the monster, who seemed to recognize him, but without showing any fear, turned and coolly walked out of the house. It wounded the pride of the young champion to see the enemy treat him so indifferently. He returned to his men feeling disheartened. He could see no way of killing the monster. What could he do?

After many weeks of failure, Egkartes wandered to the king's garden and sat down near the entrance, where he found many other Greek youths who, like himself, aspired to the hand of the princess. They all knew that it was her daily custom to walk in the garden at sunset, and they were waiting to see her.

When the princess appeared, the young men stood up and humbly saluted her—all but Egkartes, who remained sitting.

She approached the gate, and looking earnestly into all the faces of the young men, paused for a moment, and threw down a rose. Then there was a wild scramble among the rival youths for possession of the flower, only a poor remnant of which finally remained in the hands of the strongest.

Meanwhile the princess was wondering about the handsome boy who took no part in the struggle, and presently she summoned Egkartes to her side. The youth rose, scarcely believing his senses, and bowing very low, approached the object of his despairing affection.

"Who are you, sir?" the princess asked, "and why have you not taken part in the contest for the flower?"

"I am your most humble servant, Egkartes, and I beg your pardon if I have displeased you by not joining in that mad rush for the flower. I must save my strength for a more serious contest."

"But," replied the princess, "I judge by your conduct that you are unwilling to please me."

For a moment the boy trembled on the brink of confessing his love, but just as the words were forming on his lips, the princess motioned him away. The boy was broken-hearted, for he was too blind to see that the princess had really singled him out because he had not entered into the contest, and had shown himself different from the common run of love-sick youths.

Scarcely had Egkartes turned away when the Hus came running toward the princess. She was almost paralyzed with fear.

But who could describe the panic that seized the foolish mob of young men who had fought so valiantly for the rose? At sight of the Hus, they fled in all directions. Egkartes alone remained to defend the princess. When he saw his foe, he shouted with joy and rushed at the monster with drawn sword.

The beast recognized his adversary, and, opening his great jaws, charged upon him. When the combatants met, the boy's sword entered the pig's mouth. As he withdrew his weapon, Egkartes fell, and the pig, leaping over him, disappeared. Regaining his feet, the youth gave pursuit, brandishing his bloody sword.

The princess saw the whole encounter, and as she ran to the palace, her thoughts were divided between the peril from which she had escaped and the wonderful valor of her young preserver. She was afraid to tell her father of what had happened, lest he should deprive her of her free hour, but all that night she lay awake dreaming of her hero and praying that she might meet him again.

Three days later the city rejoiced over the news that a conjuror had destroyed the Hus. The fellow was brought to the king to explain about it. He said he had destroyed the monster by means of a charm. When asked to produce the head of the pig, he said that as soon as the creature died he vanished into smoke. The man's story was so plausible that the king believed him, and ordered a great feast in his honor.

Poor Egkartes heard the news with sorrow, and the princess, shutting herself up in her inner room, mourned bitterly. She did not wish to marry the conjuror, for now she loved the brave Egkartes.

On the day of the feast the whole city was gay and the people ate and drank in excess. Even Egkartes's men joined in the merrymaking; but the young hero himself sulked in a dismal cellar.

It was fortunate for the boy that he had not joined with the masses in their dissipation, for the Hus, knowing that they could not resist, came into the city and bit thousands of the people.

When he heard the cry of the Hus in the streets, Egkartes emerged from the cellar, eager for another combat.

People were scurrying for safety. None but the boy was armed. Hither and thither ran the black brute biting as many as he could.

As Egkartes rushed at the beast, that knowing warrior recognized the young Greek again and charged him furiously, first springing at his throat.

The boy stood his ground, and thrusting his sword, as in their previous fight, into the Hus's mouth, drove so hard that the weapon sank deep into the stomach of the brute.

The Hus fell headlong, roaring loudly. Struggling to his feet, he stood for a few moments, swaying from side to side, while the blood flowed freely from his mouth. The boy, without knowing it, had struck the pig's only vulnerable spot, the mouth. After a moment the great Hus turned and fled, roaring like thunder. Though no one saw him die, it seemed evident that he was mortally wounded.

Of course Egkartes became the hero of the hour. He was carried by six strong men to the palace of the king, who was feasting in his hall, not knowing of the brave deed that the boy had done. So when he heard the people shouting at his gate, the king came to the palace steps and called to the multitude who had followed Egkartes:

"Why have you come here with all this noise?" demanded his Majesty. "Have I not given you a holiday and the freedom of the city? Why cannot you caper in your own streets and lanes? Have I no rights as king? Go to your homes or I shall call my soldiers to drive you there. Begone, I say, begone!"

"May it please your Majesty," said one of the people, "we have brought the hero who has just slain the Black Hus!"

"But," protested the angry king, "have I not at this very moment the Black Hus hero at my table feasting with my nobles? By magic he slew the monster but yesterday!"

But the people shouted, "Away with the magicman—away with the imposter!"

The king was much perplexed, but wishing to learn the truth, he commanded silence while he listened to the story of Egkartes and his victorious encounter with the Hus. When he learned the truth then the king ordered the lying conjuror to be hanged, and immediately the poor imposter, protesting and struggling in vain, was dragged from the dining hall and hanged in the garden.

Two weeks after this Egkartes was taken to the palace, with a great flourish of trumpets, and was proclaimed the hero of the country. He knew that he had not killed the pig as they had told the king; but neither king nor people paid any attention to his explanations. All insisted that he had killed the monster and had a right to the great reward.

The princess of course was delighted, and said to Egkartes: "I do not care whether you have killed the monster or not. I shall have you and we shall live very happily together."

The boy yielded to her persuasion, and a week later they sat together at a royal banquet in honor of their coming marriage. The company was jubilant with praise and merrymaking. The king, the queen, the royal ladies and brave knights drank deep and long of the red wine of the hills.

The hero was happiest of all until he began to see knight after knight flushed and boisterous from much eating and drinking. Then his thoughts flitted back to the dinner at his father's home, and to the first appearance of the Hus. He could not shake off the feeling that the Hus would appear again, for the beast always appeared when men began to grow foolish through drink.

It was not long before the king noticed that the boy was not laughing and drinking with the rest.

"Art thou sick, Egkartes?" he asked.

"I am not sick, most noble Sire," replied the youth. "Be it known, O, King, that I have refrained from drinking tonight because I want to be ready for the Hus, which is sure to come wherever there is such overindulgence."

Before he could proceed further, the knights broke into furious curses. "Away with the imposter! Away with him! Ha! Ha!"

The king commanded silence as he stood up dizzy with wine. Red-faced and boiling with anger he looked at the youth and said:

"Fetch in the guards and take this fellow to the guard house, and presently we will have a hanging in the reception hall! Bah! Thou too hast thought to seize my daughter's hand by trickery! Well, thou shalt hang!"

The king sat down and the guards seized the boy by the back of the neck and dragged him away, amid the laughter and jeers of the company.

The boisterous merriment continued until the princess stood up and motioned for silence. Then she said:

"Most noble father, I now speak in behalf of all the women of Greece. The men of Greece have for years treated women as slaves, creatures of their wills. You, my father, without my consent offered my hand to any who should prove victor over the Hus. You have already seen what has happened. An imposter came first and frightened me nearly to death! You did not care so long as you could keep your foolish word. Now comes a youth who thrice has repelled the Hus, and because he has the courage to tell you the truth, you order him hanged without mercy or any thought of me. Henceforth I shall do my own choosing when it comes to mating! If you hang Egkartes then you will find my dead body in the morning by the side of his! Why have you condemned him in whom is our only hope of safety? If the Hus should come tonight—?"

"What do you say, Miss Impudence? I'll see whether your prophecy will come true. Let every gate be barred! Fasten every door with a double lock! Let the royal guards stand in every hallway! And you, ungrateful maiden, dance before this company. By the gods! We'll see whether the Hus is greater than the king!"

The king sat down heavily, and the princess obediently arose to dance before a drunken assembly.

Scarcely had she stood upon the floor than in rushed the Hus. Neither walls, nor doors nor swords had been able to keep him out.

The queen was first to try to leave the room, but the Hus flung himself upon her and buried his teeth in her shoulder. The king attempted to draw his sword, but the beast sprang upon him before he could even touch the hilt, seized him round the middle and shook him till he seemed like to fall apart. The once brave knights lay where they were and called loudly for the guards.

Amid the confusion the princess ran to the guard room where her lover lay bound. When the terrified guards heard that the Hus was in the palace, they were only too glad to release their prisoner.

Egkartes was not surprised to hear of the return of the Hus. He gladly dashed to the banqueting hall. When he appeared before him the Hus dropped his latest victim and squealed with rage. Well did the beast remember his many wounds received at the hands of Egkartes. As if to take revenge, he bounded toward the boy, who aiming his sword again at the beast's mouth, drove the weapon home, running it well down the throat. With a roar of rage the Hus sprang back, dashed for the nearest window, jumped to the earth, and disappeared into the dark night, still roaring furiously.

In a moment the knights were on their feet. Now that there was no danger they were eager to defend the king and queen; but his Majesty, ordering the knights out of the palace, embraced the hero, exclaiming: "Thou shalt indeed be my son."

So the royal marriage was consummated and the princess became the wife of the noble Egkartes.

The first act of the prince was to banish all drink from the kingdom, for, as he told the people, the Hus could never be killed but would be helpless as long as they refused to befuddle their senses with wine. He received great honor and later ascended to the throne—and the kingdom prospered as long as it took heed to the words of Egkartes.