WHEN the Princess looked into the mysterious land, where not a sound was heard, she gathered up her rich silken skirt in both hands, and jumping ashore, ran as fast as her feet would carry her over the same ground where once the leopards had chased her when she was a fox. She lost one of her sandals, her hair, that was fastened high on her head with fans and golden pins, slipped down on her shoulders, and the jeweled clasp at her waist dropped off, but she never stopped or looked behind. The Prince followed as fast as he could, but so fleet of foot was she that she left him far behind, and when she reached the big tree with the hollow trunk she fell down before it, crying:“Oh, most powerful dragon, make me a fox again, for now I know it is better to be a fox than a woman.”

Then out of the hollow tree came the same hideous creature she had seen before, and when it opened its yawning mouth its teeth shone like ivory spears, and she thought it was about to swallow her. But the dragon only looked at her and sniffed scornfully until the smoke from its nostrils darkened the air.

And when the Prince came in search of Wild Flower only a gray fox darted through the tangled weeds and bushes and was lost in the deep, dark wood. The Prince looked after it longingly.

“Oi! Oi!” he cried (which is the Japanese way of saying “Hello!”) “Would that I had my leopards with me. Then would I give chase and catch you, my fine fellow.”

But he had no time to bother with a fox when his loved one was lost in this queer and dangerous place, and he rushed frantically about the forest calling, “Wild Flower! Wild Flower! Dear Wild Flower!” But though he sought her for many days, and all the rowers joined in the hunt, he never saw her again. So he went back to the Bamboo Castle very sad and lonely, but every one there, tired of her airs and her temper, said she was a witch and he was well rid of her. When he thought over how peevish she had become he was inclined to agree with them, and finally he married a pretty and amiable little Princess and Wild Flower was forgotten.

And out in the shadowy depths of a certain wood a cunning gray fox smiled until he showed his shining teeth when a saucy bird, mocking the Prince’s call, repeated, “Wild Flower! Wild Flower! Dear Wild Flower!” in its merry song. Then he lay down and rolled over in the wet leaves and licked his fur contentedly.

“I’m glad I’m out of that,” he said. “Now I’ll wait until the thousand years are up. Nothing will satisfy me except to be a fox with nine golden tails.”

With never a regret he went back to the old life, and hunted mice and creeping things when he got hungry, and when there was neither moon nor stars, ran through the black night to the farm house far beyond the edge of the forest, and came back in the gray of the morning with his lips all bloody and his paws as well—the signs of his midnight feast in the chicken yard.

The wonderful wood, so dark, so still, so cool, put on patches of color with the passing month, and in the few spots where the sunshine sometimes crept, the trees grew vivid with the burning glory of autumn or pale and cold with the first blue blossoms of spring, then softly pink with azalea blooms or bright as a glowing sunset with the flowers of peach and cherry.

And in the Period of Greatest Light the leaves would cover the ground and make soft beds where all the wild things could sleep snug and warm during the Period of Greatest Cold. As for the fox, though he was a bit quarrelsome, the years passed pleasantly and peacefully. No one ever again came there to hunt, and such queer things had been whispered abroad about what happened in this pathless country, where lived such strange creatures as never man had seen, that travelers went far out of their way rather than pass through it.

And on stormy nights, when the wind howled and windows rattled and the tempest-torn trees swayed and groaned, people all over the island barred their doors tight and fast, for they said: “The spirits of the wood are out to-night.” And they lit incense sticks to keep them from coming in, and as they sipped their tea, told stories about the weird wood. A favorite one was that a beautiful Princess was kept there a prisoner by a cruel dragon, and of how a mighty Prince once found her and carried her away to his castle, but she heard the dragon calling, calling, calling her all the day and all the night, and at last either she slipped out of the castle and went to him or else he came and stole her away, no one knew just which way it was.

And while other brave men would willingly go to rescue her, yet they all agreed what was the use, for the dragon would get her again and they would have their trouble for nothing. So she had been there now for hundreds and hundreds of years, but was still young and lovely—so the story ran. But like all legends, it got a little twisted in the telling.

So many summers and winters came and went that every one except the fox forgot to count them. At last a famine spread over all the land. It was the Period of Greatest Heat. No rain had fallen for many a week. The earth was dry as a dead leaf, the grass turned brown, the streams dried up, the birds all died or went away, one by one the animals perished, and the once beautiful Napatantutu was grim and desolate.

The fox was now five hundred years old. His coat of fur was whiter than when he was young, his legs were not so nimble and some of his teeth were gone. He searched the wood for food and water and could find neither. He grew so thin that his ribs stuck through the skin, so weak he trembled like the aspen when he walked. The pains of hunger gnawed him day and night and he felt as if he must surely die.

Then he mustered up all the strength he had left and crawled to the big tree with the hollow trunk. There he fell down, a heap of skin and bones, and called feebly for the dragon. When this terrible creature came out it blew fire and smoke at him in awful wrath.

“I thought you wanted to be a fox with nine golden tails. Why have you disturbed me?” it thundered.

“A fox with nine golden tails is a nice thing to talk about,” the poor fox whimpered, “but a wise man is better than a dead fox, even if it had twenty golden tails, so make me a wizard, Great One, and then will I trouble you no more.”

“Bah!” cried the dragon with such fury that the flames from its mouth flew up to the top of the hollow tree. When they died away the fox was nowhere to be seen. In his place stood a very solemn-looking old man with green spectacles and a bald head.

“Dear me, this is most peculiar,” he mumbled, as he pulled his long gray whiskers thoughtfully. “I will go to the nearest village and get something to eat, then I’ll come back and talk to that dragon a while. If I can find out some of his secrets I will make myself the wisest man that ever lived and then will I become the richest.”

From one end of the land to the other, and even to the islands far off the coast, spread the fame of the great magician who lived in a cave on the sea shore. Princes talked about him in their castles, and the very poorest people in their little bamboo-covered huts as they counted their grains of rice told of the wonderful wisdom of the Cave Man, as he was called. “He can do many strange things, but there is no use going to him if you have not money,” they said sadly. “He is hungry for gold.”Meanwhile the Cave Man waxed rich. The floor of his cavern home was strewn with shining gold, ornaments of silver and ivory were on the walls, and he had great bags of glittering jewels and treasures of untold value, all given him by those who had come to him for help.

He could tell when it would rain and when a man must plant his crop to reap a full harvest, where money was hidden if it had been stolen and who had taken it, who was the right girl for a man to marry and who was his secret enemy, he knew what would cure the sick, what would drive away evil spirits and everything that any one could ask him. But he was also very cruel. When the poor sought him in their sorrow he took away their last cent, and he gave neither to the sick nor to the hungry.“A wise man is greater than Princes or Kings,” he boasted. “Some day I will rule the land and all men shall pay tribute to me.” And he grew richer and richer every day. But still he was not happy. No matter how many costly and beautiful gifts were brought him, he was never satisfied. He became so mean and miserly that at last the good King said:

“We must rid ourselves of this man. Too long have I borne patiently with him and allowed him to oppress my people. He is very dangerous. If left alone he may do great harm and become the curse of the Kingdom. He has wisdom and wealth and they have not contented him. What will he want next? Our heads, perhaps.”

So one night while the Cave Man slept the officers of the King crept in, and after beating him with their spears, bound him hand and foot and carried him off to prison. All the gold and precious stones and splendid gifts the people had brought him were sold and the money given to the poor, and there was feasting and rejoicing everywhere, for every one had grown to hate and fear him.

“You might have done much good,” the King told him, “but you worked only evil. I shall keep you in prison for many years and see if you will learn to be good and happy as well as wise.”

The wizard went back to his dark little cell and pulled his long beard all the night long. When the sun peeped over the big blue mountains the next morning he had not closed his eyes. Like many men, wise and otherwise, he knew better how to manage other people’s affairs than his own. He had not been able to bring any charms away from the cave, he had neither money nor friends, and in vain he racked his brain for a way of escape from his gloomy prison.

“I hate men,” he cried fiercely. “Why did I ever become one? They are nothing but stupid, two-legged animals. I see plainly now that it is more honor to be even a common gray fox than the wisest man in the world. Oh, that I had never seen that miserable dragon!”

But it did no good to talk this way. He was chained fast to the wall in a horrible dungeon, with nothing but bread and water to live on, and the thing to worry about now was how to get out. Just as he was trying to think up some plan there came the sound of the key turning in the rusty lock.