The first of all mothers was Air, and she had three
daughters. Of these three maidens there is much
to be said. They were as lovely as the rainbow after a
storm; they were as fair as the full moon shining above
the mountains. They walked with noiseless feet among 5
the clouds and showered gifts upon the earth. They sent
the refreshing rain, the silent dew, and the nipping frost,
each in its season. They gave life to the fields, and strength
to the mountains, and grandeur to the sea. And because
of their bounty the earth was glad and the stars twinkled10
for joy.

"What more can we do to make the land fit for men to
dwell in? What other gift have we to bestow?" asked the
eldest of the sisters.

And the youngest said, "Let us send down iron—iron 15
of which tools may be made, iron of which sharp weapons
may be shaped. For without tools man will not be able
to plow, to reap, or to build; and without weapons he
cannot defend himself against the savage beasts of the
forest." 20

So when the sun was about going down, the sisters
went forth in trailing robes of purple and crimson and gold;
and in their hands they bore mighty vessels of foaming milk.
The eldest sprinkled red milk in the brooks and marshes
and along the banks of the rivers. The middle one scattered
white milk on the wooded hills and the stony mountains.
The youngest showered blue milk in the valleys
and by the gray seashore. And, on the morrow, where 5
the red milk had been sprinkled, red and brittle ore of
iron flecked the ground; where the white milk had been
scattered, powdery ore of a yellow hue abounded; and
where the blue milk had been showered, flaky masses of
crude iron, tough and dark, lay hidden beneath the soil. 10

Thus came Iron into the world—Iron, the youngest
of three brothers. Next older than he was Fire, a raging,
dangerous fellow when free, but loving and faithful when
held in bonds. Older still was Water, terrible in strength
but, when not aroused, as gentle as a mother's caress. 15

Years upon years went by, and at length one day Iron
set out to visit his brothers. He found Water at home in
the deep sea, and by him he was welcomed kindly enough.
But when he climbed a mountain to see his second brother
he had quite another reception. Fire was in a raging 20
mood. The terrible fellow leaped and roared and stretched
out his long red fingers as though he would devour his
visitor.

Iron was so terrified that he turned and fled down the
steep slopes, never stopping nor pausing to look behind. 25
He ran on, hiding in clefts and chasms, creeping under
rocks, and lurking in the dry beds of mountain torrents.
When by and by he reached the level plain, he glanced
backward. The hills and the whole mountain top were
aflame. 30

Wild with terror he hurried on, hiding himself in the
woods and under the roots of trees and resting at last in
reedy marshes where swans build their nests and wild geese
rear their young.

For ages and ages—nobody knows how many—Iron
lay hidden in bogs and forests and lonely caverns. Fear
of his raging brother made him lurk in lonely places, made5
him cover up his face. Lazy bears went ambling through
the rocky places; wolves rushed madly over the oozy
marshlands; and timid deer ran and leaped among the
trees. In time the hiding places of Iron were uncovered.
Where the paws of bears had plodded often, where the feet10
of wolves had pattered, where the sharp hoofs of deer had
trodden, there the timid metal, red, gray, yellow, black,
peeped shyly out.

At length into that same land there came a skillful Smith.
He carried a hammer of stone in one hand and tongs of 15
bronze in the other, and a song of peace was upon his lips.
On a green hillock, where the south wind blew, he built
him a smithy, and in it he placed the tools of his craft.
His anvil was a block of gray granite; his forge was carefully
built of sand and clay; his bellows was made of the 20
skins of mountain goats sewn together.

The Smith heaped live coals in his forge and blew with
his bellows until the flames leaped up, roaring and sparkling,
and the smoke rose in dense clouds over the roof of the
smithy. "This forge will do its work well," he said. Then25
he checked the bellows and smothered the flames and raked
ashes upon the fire until the red coals slumbered unseen at
the mouth of the forge.

Out into the forest the Smith wandered. Closely he
scanned the hillsides and the boggy thickets and the paths 30
among the trees. And there, where the bears had trailed
and the wolves had rushed and the deer had left their
footprints, he found ruddy Iron, dusky Iron, yellow ore
of Iron, peeping, trembling, hiding. The heart of the
Smith was glad. His eyes danced merrily, and he sang a
song of magic to the timid metal:

Iron moved not, but timidly answered, "I dare not
leave my hiding places; for Fire, my brother, waits to
devour me. He is strong and fierce. He has no pity."

The Smith shook his head and made reply, still singing:

These words made Iron feel much braver; and they
were spoken in tones so sweet and persuasive that he was
almost minded to obey without another word. But he asked,25
"Why should I leave these places where I have rested so
long? What will become of me after I have made friends
with Fire?"

Again the Smith replied to the query of Iron in a magic
song:

Hearing this, Iron came out of his lurking places and
without more ado bashfully followed the cunning Smith.
But no sooner was he in the smithy than he felt himself15
a prisoner. The tongs of bronze gripped him and thrust
him into the forge. The bellows roared, the Smith shouted,
and Fire leaped joyfully out of the ashes and threw his
arms around his helpless younger brother. And bashful,
bashful Iron turned first red and then white and finally20
became as soft as dough and as radiant as the sun.

Then the tongs of bronze drew him forth from the flames,
and twirled him in the air, and threw him upon the anvil;
and the hammer of stone beat him fiercely again and again
until he shrieked with pain.25

"Oh, spare me! spare me!" he cried. "Do not deal so
roughly with me. Let me go back to my lonely hiding
places and lie there in peace as in the days of old."

But the tongs pinched him worse than before, and the
hammer beat him still harder, and the Smith answered: 30"Not so, not so! Be not so cowardly. We do not hurt
you; you are only frightened. Be brave and I will shape
you into things of great use to men. Be brave and you
shall rule the world."

Then in spite of Iron's piteous cries, he kept on pounding
and twisting and turning and shaping the helpless metal 5
until at length it was changed into many forms of use and
beauty—rings, chains, axes, knives, cups, and curious
tools. But it was so soft, after being thus heated and
beaten, that the edges of the tools were quickly dulled.
Try as he might, the Smith did not know how to give the 10
metal a harder temper.

One day a honeybee strolled that way. It buzzed
around the smithy and then lit on a clover blossom by the
door.

"O bee," cried the busy Smith, "you are a cunning 15
little bird, and you know some things better than I know
them. Come now, and help me temper this soft metal.
Bring me a drop of your honey; bring the sweet liquor
which you suck from the meadow flower; bring the magic
dew of the wildwood. Give me all such things that I may 20
make a mixture to harden Iron."

The bee answered not—it was too busy with its own
affairs. It gathered what honey it could from the blossom
and then flew swiftly away.

Under the eaves above the smithy door an idler was 25
sitting—a mischief-making hornet who heard every word
that the Smith said.

"I will help him make a mixture," this wicked insect
muttered. "I will help him to give Iron another temper."

Forthwith he flew to the thorny thickets and the miry 30
bogs and the fever-breeding marshes, to gather what evils
he might. Soon he returned with an arm load—the poison
of spiders, the venom of serpents, the miasmata of swamps,
the juice of the deadly nightshade. All these he cast into
the tub of water wherein the Smith was vainly trying to
temper Iron.

The Smith did not see him, but he heard him buzzing 5
and supposed it was the honeybee with sweets from the
meadow flowers.

"Thank you, pretty little bird," he said. "Now I hope
we shall have a better metal. I hope we shall make edges
that will cut and not be dulled so easily." 10

Thereupon he drew a bar of the metal, white hot, from
the forge. He held it, hissing and screeching, under the
water into which the poisons had been poured. Little
thought he of the evil that was there. He heard the hornet
humming and laughing under the eaves. 15

"Tiny honeybee," he said, "you have brought me much
sweetness. Iron tempered with your honey will be sweet
although sharp. Nothing shall be wrought of it that is
not beautiful and helpful and kind."

He drew the metal from the tub. He thrust it back 20
among the red coals. He plied the bellows and the flames
leaped up. Then, when the metal was glowing again, he
laid it on the anvil and beat it with strong, swift strokes;
and as he worked he sang:

Forthwith Iron leaped up, angry and biting and fierce.
He was not a soft and ductile metal as before, but Iron 30
hardened into tough blue steel. Showers of sparks flew
from him, snapping, burning, threatening; and from among
them sprang swords and spears and battle-axes, and daggers
keen and pointed. Out of the smithy and out through
the great world these cruel weapons raced, slashing and
clashing, thrusting and cutting, raging and killing, and 5
carrying madness among men.

The wicked hornet, idling under the eaves, rejoiced at
the mischief he had wrought. But the Smith was filled
with grief, and the music of his anvil became a jangling
discord. 10

"Oh, Iron," he cried, "it was not for this that I caused
you to leave your hiding places in the hills and bogs! The
three sisters intended that you should be a blessing to
mankind; but now I greatly fear that you will become a
curse." 15

At that moment the honeybee, laden with the sweets of
field and wood, came buzzing into the smithy. It whispered
hopefully into the ear of the Smith: "Wait until
my gifts have done their work."