THE HERDSMAN’S DOGS CHASE URSA MAJOR—AND THE TERRIBLE DRAGON WRIGGLES AWAY IN FRIGHT

The next evening Peter, Paul, and Betty were all down on the beach as soon as supper was over.

Peter and Paul had that morning made a fence of laths around the sand drawings of the two bears—big, and little, so that “Rags,” their Airedale puppy, could not spoil them.

Now that “Rags” was asleep under the cottage, Peter and Paul removed the fence and smoothed the sand carefully for several yards around the bears, while Betty collected a quite unnecessarily large number of pebbles to represent the stars that would be found, with Uncle Henry’s help, when the twilight faded.

When all this was done the trio sat down beside the smoothed space and called to Uncle Henry, on the porch, that one star was already out and he had better hurry.

“I’ll come when you can see Ursa Major’s tail,” called back Uncle Henry, and the children had to wait, although they shrilly announced each new star that glowed into sight in the darkening sky, and repeatedly urged Uncle Henry to “come on and begin!”

The seven stars of the big dipper were all plainly visible when Uncle Henry came down the board walk and sat cross-legged on the sand.

The first thing he did was to extend the line joining the last two pebbles in the great bear’s tail until it was about five times as long as before, and curved slightly downward as it went. (2)

“Now, Betty,” he said, “give me a pebble—a good big one. This is a bright star we’ll begin with; see if you can find it,” and Uncle Henry put down the pebble at the end of the line, like this.

The three exclaimed, “I see it!” almost together.

“All right, then, we’ll find ‘BoÖtes,’ the herdsman who drives Ursa Major round the pole,” said Uncle Henry. “He has two dogs to help him besides. We’ll find them too.”

The children gazed upward for some time, intently silent.

“I guess,” observed Betty finally, “that you’ll have to tell us whether that big star is the bear-driver’s head—or one of his ‘booties,’ Uncle Henry.”

A duet of groans from Peter and Paul followed this example of the lowest form of wit.

“I can’t see anything that looks like a man the least bit,” she went on, oblivious of the groans, “but I can see a kite, with that big star at the place where the tail would be fastened on.”

“Fine,” said Uncle Henry, “Make the kite then, Betty—and then we’ll find the herdsman after we’ve flown the kite a while. That’s the wonderful thing about Starland. If you get tired of one of the beasts or people in it—presto! You can change him into anything he looks like to you. BoÖtes is really much more like a kite than a man, so let’s make the kite. Put the pebbles down, Betty.”

Betty did, and they looked like this.

“That was easy!” exclaimed Peter.

“Never you mind, Mr. Peter!” Betty burst out warmly, “I found it first, anyhow!”

“We’ll let Peter find the bear-driver’s head,” said Uncle Henry judicially.

Peter promptly picked the big star at the tail-end of the kite.

“You’re wrong,” said Uncle Henry, “but I don’t blame you. Arcturus is much too bright and beautiful to be only a big, bright button on the lower edge of BoÖtes’ shepherd’s kilt—but that is all it is. The star at the top end of the kite is his head, and the two stars at the ends of the cross-stick of the kite are his shoulders. About halfway from them to Arcturus you can find the belt of his kilt, and——”

“Oh, I see his legs!” interrupted Paul. “He’s running after the big bear.”

“Put them in, Paul,” said Uncle Henry.

Paul did, and the figure of BoÖtes grew to look like this.

“But he hasn’t any arms!” said Peter.

“Yes, he has,” explained Uncle Henry, “his left one is up in the air, and his right one holds a shepherd’s crook upon his right shoulder. Like this.”

Uncle Henry added pebbles and lines until BoÖtes was finished.

“What awful short legs he has!” criticised Betty.

“That must be why he’s never caught the great bear,” smiled Uncle Henry.

“What’s he shaking his fist for?” inquired Paul, pointing to the herdsman’s left hand. “Is he so mad because he can’t catch Ursa Major?”

Uncle Henry did not reply, but drew two long lines from the uplifted hand downward to a point just below the end of the big bear’s tail.

“Oh, I know!” piped Betty, and throwing herself on her back, she began to star-gaze industriously.

Peter and Paul looked at each other inquiringly.

“The dogs!” said Peter. “Betty’s looking for them. They’re on leash of course. Those lines are the leashes.”

Uncle Henry smiled his pleasure.

“The hunting dogs—or, as you would say it in Latin, Canes Venatici, are largely imaginary. There are six stars—three in each dog, and all faint except one, named Cor Caroli.”

“I see the bright one!” said Peter, and put down a fair-sized pebble to represent it. When the children had found the five other faint stars and Uncle Henry had finished drawing the dogs, BoÖtes and his hunting hounds, Asterion and Chara, looked like this.

“Why do they call the bright star at the tail of Chara, Cor Caroli, Uncle Henry?” asked Paul.

“It is Latin for ‘heart of Charles,’” said Uncle Henry, “and the Charles they mean is Charles the Second of England, but don’t ask me why, for I don’t know. Perhaps the dog Chara ran away with Cor Caroli. I understand that Charles the Second lost his heart pretty often, and perhaps one time he didn’t get it back. Beware, Paul! I am Father William out of Alice in Wonderland; ‘you have asked me three questions and that is enough.’”

“Are you going to make a poem for us to-night, too?” inquired Betty hopefully.

“Let me see,” said Uncle Henry thoughtfully. “Great bear, BoÖtes, pronounced Bo-o-tees, and two dogs—they ought to make some kind of a poem. How’s this? I’ll let you name it after you’ve heard it.”

“The milky way to catch a bear,” suggested Paul, as a name for the poem.

“Who spilt the milk?” volunteered Peter.

“The herdsman hasn’t ever caught Ursa Major,” said Betty reflectively, “so he’s wasting his time chasing him. ‘Don’t cry over spilt milk’ would be a good title, I think. He ought to be tending his silly sheep, if he has any.”

“I’ve got it!” exclaimed Peter, “‘Ursa was a big bear; Ursa was a thief.’ Like ‘Taffy the Welshman,’ you know.”

Since no one else had a better title, the “Society of Star-Gazers,” as Paul had named it, let it go at that, and allowed BoÖtes to persist in his pursuit of the great bear for his ancient mischief.

“I thought you were going to show us the lions to-night, Uncle Hen,” said Peter.

“So I am, Peter,” said Uncle Henry. “Tell me what you see just below and between Ursa Major’s hind feet.”

All the children looked, and Peter answered,

“Three faint stars, like a triangle.”

“Put them in with pebbles,” said Uncle Henry, and Peter did.

“That’s one lion; the little one. Now we’ll find the big one and draw them both.”

Then Uncle Henry drew a long line through the two stars at the root of the great bear’s tail, and extended it to the three little pebbles in a triangle under the bear’s feet, and through the triangle, and beyond as far again. At the end of this line he put a large pebble. (3)

“There,” said Uncle Henry, “is the star Regulus, which is in the big lion’s heart. See if you can find the rest of him.”

Betty soon picked out the lion’s head, and Paul added his hind quarters, and when Uncle Henry had drawn outlines around both big and little lions they looked like this.

“Now show us the Swan,” urged Peter.

“Yes, and the Dragon!” reminded Paul.

“You children haven’t forgotten a single one I promised,” laughed Uncle Henry. “Well, here goes; everybody find the dipper again.”

Everybody did.

“Now draw a line straight up through the middle of the dipper’s bowl and keep on with it a little over three times the length of the dipper’s handle. (4) Put a large pebble there and see if you can find the star. It’s in the swan’s tail, and he looks as if he was flying overhead, with his wings spread, and his long neck stretched out ahead of him.”

“Is he sort of like a cross?” inquired Betty after a moment.

“Right,” said Uncle Henry. “Put him in with pebbles.”

This shows how to find and draw the swan the way the children and Uncle Henry did.

“Now the dragon, Uncle Hen!” urged Peter.

“Are you sure,” said Uncle Henry, “that you promise not to have any bad dreams about the dragon if I show him to you before you go to bed?”

“Sure!” chorused the Society of Star-Gazers.

“Well,” said Uncle Henry, “the dragon is very terrible, but he is afraid of bears, so he is squirming away as fast as he can from them. He is wriggling a little faster too, because Ursa Major is on one side of him and Ursa Minor on the other. Draw a line through the stars in the tips of the swan’s wings, back toward the head of the bear-driver, and you’ll find the dragon’s head about halfway. (5) It’s a little triangle of stars, and from that the dragon’s body winds around the little bear’s body and down above the big bear’s back.”

“I see all of him!” exclaimed Paul.

“Here are the pebbles,” said Uncle Henry, “put the dragon, or Draco, where he belongs.”

Paul did, and Uncle Henry finished him.

“To-morrow night,” said Uncle Henry, “we’ll find some more of the star people and sky animals. They even have musical instruments in this Skyland of ours, so we’ll find the lyre that the sky ladies play on! One of the sky gentlemen is a great archer, too, so we’ll find him shooting his bow and arrow at a giant scorpion, and——”

“Oh, let’s find that now!” pleaded Peter and Paul in unison.

Betty did not join in the chorus. She was asleep, with her head in Uncle Henry’s lap.

“To-morrow night,” smiled Uncle Henry. “Betty will want to hear, too, about the sky lady’s mandolin, or harp, or lyre, or whatever it is.”

Then he picked up the little girl without waking her, and the boys followed him up the walk into “Seven Oaks”—and bed.