IN WHICH THE DOGS OF ORION AND GEMINI FOLLOW THEIR MASTERS, PEGASUS ESCAPES AS USUAL, AND ANDROMEDA GETS A NICE SOFT BED OF HAY IN PLACE OF HER HARD OLD ROCK

“Uncle Hen,” said Peter, when the Society was assembled round the blackboard, in overcoats and mittens, on the following night, “what is that very bright star that is down behind Orion? It looks sort of important to me.”

“Right you are, Pete,” answered Uncle Henry, looking where the boy pointed, “it is important. It is the star Sirius, the brightest star in the whole sky. We’ll begin with it and find Orion’s dog, or Canis Major, which is Latin for ‘bigger dog.’”

“That’s great!” exclaimed Paul, “you told us last Summer that we’d find him this Christmas-time.”

“So I did,” agreed Uncle Henry. “Well, you can always find Orion’s dog by drawing a line through Orion’s belt and extending it behind him until it meets Sirius. (22) You can’t miss it because it’s so bright. Everybody see it?”

Everybody did.

“Now,” went on Uncle Henry, “extend the line that came from Orion’s belt, curving it slightly downward after it passes through Sirius, and you will have the dog’s backbone. Put in the chalk dots as we find the stars, Pete. Now draw lines upward and downward from Sirius, at right angles to the backbone line and you will have the dog’s forelegs and ears. At a point on the backbone about twice the length of the foreleg from Sirius, you will find another fairly bright star, and below it a little way another star. Connect these two and keep on with the line, at right angles to the backbone, and you will find one hind foot. The other is not far in front of it. Yes, that’s right, Betty, there’s a star in the tip of his tail, too. And the three stars near Sirius make Canis Major’s nose.”

The children soon finished the skeleton and Uncle Henry took the chalk and put the flesh upon it. Then the dog of Orion looked like this:

“He’s a faithful old fellow, isn’t he?” said Betty, “to always follow Mr. Orion around like that?”

“I’m not always sure,” said Uncle Henry, “whether the dog of Orion would always be so faithful if it wasn’t for the rabbit that is always just ahead of him, almost under Orion’s feet.”

“Oh, show us the rabbit!” cried Betty. Her father had promised her that when they all went to live in a house in the country, she should have a pair of them for her very own.

“All right, Betty,” said Uncle Henry. “You can find Lepus, the rabbit, yourself. The three rather faint stars just below Orion’s right foot make the curve of his back. Join them together with a curved line and extend it forward and downward until it passes through two brighter stars. The lowest of these is in the fore-shoulder of the rabbit. Now draw lines backward from both of these brighter stars, at about right angles to the line that joins them, and you will find the rabbit’s hind hip and hind foot. He is lying down for a moment to rest. You see he’s been galloping away from Canis Major for such a long time that he is tired.”

“Poor little rabbit!” cried Betty, and her little face looked so pitiful in the light of the electric torch that Uncle Henry hastened to reassure her by saying that the big dog had never yet caught the rabbit, and by the very nature of things never could. Then she took heart to go on putting in the stars.

“Now,” said Uncle Henry, “you can find the star in the rabbit’s eye by drawing a line forward from the upper one of the brighter stars, and the star in his fore-foot by drawing another forward and downward from his fore-shoulder. That finishes his skeleton, all except his ears. They are made by finding four faint stars just under Orion’s left foot, and using two of them in each ear.”

“Now can I draw his outline in, too?” asked Betty. “I want to make every bit of him myself.”

“Of course you can!” exclaimed Uncle Henry indulgently.

“You’ve got to let me make all of the horse, then, when we come to him!” exclaimed Peter.

“In just a little while, Pete,” said Uncle Henry, “we’re making the rabbit now.”

“All right,” agreed Peter.

Betty had looked longingly at rabbits in pet stores so often that she really did very well at drawing the outline of the sky-rabbit.

We leave it to you to better it. You can’t—unless you love rabbits more than she did.

Betty’s brothers were quite astonished, and pleased the little girl immensely by clapping their hands when the rabbit was finished.

“Now let me do the horse!” demanded Peter.

“What’ll be left for me to do?” inquired Paul wistfully, “if you let Pete do the horse?”

“That’ll be all right, Paul,” reassured Uncle Henry, “the sky horse is very large, but we’ll give you two smaller animals to do yourself to make up for him—Aries, the ram, and Canis Minor, the smaller dog.”

“Fine,” agreed Paul. “I know all ’bout rams.”

The children laughed gleefully. Paul had been butted over once by a ram when they were on a summer visit to their grandfather’s farm.

“Well, Pete,” said Uncle Henry briskly, “you’ll find Pegasus, the horse, grazing clear on the other side of the star field. Somebody built a box stall for him over there, but he’s so big and strong that he doesn’t stay in it except when he feels like it. He’s all the time leaping the fence and escaping. When you find him, you’ll see that he’s doing that very thing now. In fact, you’ll catch him right in the act!”

“Oh, let’s hurry then!” said Peter, “he might be out before we see him do it!”

“Everybody find the big dipper,” directed Uncle Henry. “You remember how we found the pole star in the tip of the little bear’s tail by drawing a line up through the ‘pointer stars’ of the dipper’s bowl, on the side away from the handle? Well, do that again now, and follow the line through the pole star, passing behind Cassiopeia in her chair, and continuing until your line passes through two fairly bright stars quite a distance apart. (23) A line connecting these stars marks the top edge of Pegasus’ box stall, which is called ‘the square of Pegasus.’”

“Cassiopeia is about halfway between the pole star and Pegasus. A line drawn from the pole star through the back of Cassiopeia’s chair will reach the two stars that form the lower corners of Pegasus’ box stall.” (24)

“Oh, I see the square now,” said Peter.

“Me, too,” said Paul.

“It’s very big, isn’t it?” said Betty.

“Yes,” agreed Uncle Henry, “and Pegasus is big, too. He is upside down just now, with his head just above the western horizon. His nose points northward toward Delphinus and his neck curves up from the side of the box stall that’s away from the pole star. His fore feet curve up from the side of the square that is toward the pole star, and both feet point toward the swan.”

“I see him now,” cried Peter, and began putting in the chalk dots and lines for the framework of the box stall and the skeleton of Pegasus’ head and forelegs, which are all of him that can be seen. As Uncle Henry said, Pegasus is just in the act of jumping out of his stall.

When Peter had finished drawing Pegasus, the horse of poets looked like this. Uncle Henry put in the arrows pointing from the pole star, and the skeletons of Delphinus and the swan.

“It seems to me,” observed Paul sagely, “that Pegasus’ box stall is a lot too small for him.”

“That’s why he is all the time jumping out and running away,” explained Uncle Henry. “I told you that we should catch him in the act. He’s always at it.”

“Pete’s had his turn; now I want to find the ram and the little dog,” said Paul.

“If you’ll wait just a little longer,” said Uncle Henry, “I’d like to show Betty the last of the sky ladies, because she’s right close to Pegasus.”

Paul’s face fell a little, but he said, “Ladies first, of course,” as any gentleman would.

“I said she was a lady,” said Uncle Henry, “but I’m not so sure that she is acting like one. In fact, she is in an attitude that few ladies would like to be seen in, at least not in the plain view of everybody who looks at the sky.”

“What’s she doing, Uncle Henry?” inquired Betty, in a tone that said, “I guess it can’t be anything so very bad.”

Betty was herself fond of climbing trees, in spite of motherly disapproval of such tomboy activities.

“She’s lying flat on her back, with her arms and legs sprawled out and her head resting against the corner of Pegasus’ box stall. I should think it might be very uncomfortable for her, unless she is lying on a pile of hay, for Andromeda has been there a very long time in the same position. The ancient Greeks said that Andromeda was chained to a rock. Let’s not have her that way; it would be so disagreeable.”

“She’s probably asleep and doesn’t notice, but we’ll give her the hay,” said Betty. “There’s nobody to tell her not to lie down where she likes. How do we find her, Uncle Henry?”

“First look for her head,” said Uncle Henry. “It is the same star we found forming the lower corner of Pegasus’ square on the side toward the pole star. Andromeda’s feet are just below the W-shaped Cassiopeia. A line drawn from the swan’s beak through his tail, and extended across the sky, will reach the stars in the feet. (25) Another line drawn diagonally across the square of Pegasus to Andromeda’s head and extended will pass along her body, and farther on, her left foot will be seen just above the line. You see her now, don’t you, Betty?”

“Yes,” said Betty, “and I think I see her arms.”

“All right, draw her in,” Uncle Henry encouraged.

Betty did, but didn’t think she could draw well enough to outline the sleeping girl, so Uncle Henry did that. Then Andromeda looked like this:

Betty added a few lines to show that Andromeda was lying on a pile of hay, instead of being chained to that hard rock the Greeks insisted upon.

“What is that fuzzy little star just to her right, about at her hip?” asked Paul.

“I’m glad you noticed that,” said Uncle Henry. “The astronomers who lived ever so long ago, long before the birth of Christ Jesus, noticed that it looked ‘fuzzy,’ just as you have, and called it ‘the little cloud.’ It is now called ‘The Great Nebula in Andromeda.’ If you looked at it through a telescope you would see that it is not one star, but a great many. Some of them, as astronomers who live now tell us, are as large as our sun.”

“Ooh, how wonderful!” said Betty softly, and the boys’ faces showed that they thought so, too.

“Some night,” promised Uncle Henry, “we’ll bring up a little telescope and look at ‘the little cloud’ again. It is a fine sight.”

“Now,” said Paul after a moment, “please can I find the ram and the little dog?”

“Certainly,” said Uncle Henry. “Just as Canis Major, the bigger dog, follows Orion and belongs to him, so Canis Minor, the littler dog, follows and belongs to the star children, the twins named Gemini.”

“Ooh!” exclaimed Betty, “just like ‘Rags’ belongs to Peter and Paul! We’ll call the little dog ‘Rags’ when Paul finds him.”

“Fine!” laughed Uncle Henry, “but I warn you that he won’t come when you call him as well as the real live ‘Rags’ answers to his name.”

“Where do I start?” inquired Paul, anxious to have his chance to draw.

“At the feet of the twins,” directed Uncle Henry. “Draw a line through their feet and extend it away from the feet of Pollux, in the direction away from Taurus, the bull. (26) At a point about as far away from the foot of Pollux as the height of the twins you will find a bright star, and between it and the foot of Pollux a fainter one. Draw a line to connect them, and you have the little dog’s backbone. You can fill in the rest of him any way you like, for those are the only two stars he has in him. I’ll tell you one thing, though. The brighter star is at the little dog’s tail instead of his head. The opposite was the case with Orion’s dog.”

The children found the two stars very easily and Paul put down dots of the right size to represent them. Then he drew the outline of the little sky dog, making him an Airedale, as you can see, so that he might be the same as his beloved flesh and blood name-sake “Rags.”

“Now that we’ve found the two dogs, that makes it easy to find Cancer the Crab,” said Uncle Henry. “Just draw a line from Sirius, in the Big Dog, through the Little Dog, and extend it almost as far again. (27) That’s right. Now what do you see?”

The children searched the sky for some time, and Betty finally said, “Sort of a sprawly bunch of six or eight rather faint stars.”

“Make little chalk-dots for them, then, Betty, and we’ll try our best to make them look like a crab.”

This shows how Cancer the crab looked when he was finished on the blackboard, and how he crawls in the sky away from Canis Major and Gemini, the twin boys. Perhaps he has learned by experience to leave boys and dogs as far behind as possible.

“Now let’s find the ram!” said Paul. “I want to draw him.”

“The ram,” said Uncle Henry, “is very small, and is made of only three stars. A line drawn from the top corner of Pegasus’ box stall, on the side next the pole, going straight down the side, and extended below it one and a half times the height of the stall, will point to the ram. (28) You can also locate Aries, the Ram, by drawing a line from the star in the swan’s tail, across the stars in Andromeda’s hips, and beyond them a little more than the distance from her head to her hips. Don’t mistake a little triangle of stars that you will see just below Andromeda’s left leg for the three stars of Aries. Aries is a triangle, also, but it has two fairly bright stars, while the triangle has only one. Do you all see Aries, the Ram?”

The children had all found it after a few moments, as well as the triangle under Andromeda’s feet. When Paul had made the chalk dots and lines for Aries’ skeleton, Uncle Henry drew the outline around them and the ram looked like this. You will see that in order to show Aries right side up, the blackboard had to be turned so that Andromeda was upside down.

“While we are in the neighborhood of Pegasus and Andromeda and Aries the Ram we may as well find the two fishes. One of them, called the Northern Fish, lies just about halfway between Andromeda’s body and Aries—and the other, called the Western Fish, lies just back of Pegasus’ box stall, quite close to the water jar of Aquarius. (29)

“The two fishes are tied together by their tails. The cord or ribbon runs eastward from the tail of the Western Fish, running about parallel to the side of Pegasus’ stall, and then makes a sharp angle, coming back toward Andromeda, where it is fastened to the Northern Fish’s tail.”

When Pisces, or “The Fishes” were found and drawn with chalk they were in this relation to Pegasus, Andromeda, Aries, and Aquarius’ Jar.

“While I think of it,” said Uncle Henry, “I want to tell you that sometimes you may find a very bright star in a constellation where it doesn’t seem to belong. If you watch it for a few nights you will see that it moves. It isn’t a star at all, but a planet or “wanderer.” Sometime I’ll show you how to know all the planets by sight and name. You will never see them except in the zodiac constellations, so they need not confuse you. And now I think all of us had better go downstairs and get warm before we go to bed. Besides, we want to leave a little to do to-morrow night, and there are only two constellations left now.”

“Only two?” cried the children in disappointment.

“Only two that we can see well,” assured Uncle Henry.

“Well,” said Peter, “I guess we’d better have the Society adjourn. I move we adjourn.”

“Second the motion,” said Paul, with true parliamentary solemnity.

“Carried,” murmured Betty, who was beginning to get sleepy in spite of herself.