A Chinese Wonder Book | Page 6

short,
remember that even though you are a female, it is necessary to keep
your mouth closed till we reach the other side."
"Thanks, but I don't think I need your advice," replied Whitehead,
picking up the beetle and leaping on to the dog's back.

But alas! just as they were nearing the farther shore, the excited cat
forgot her wisdom for a moment. A fish suddenly leaped out of the
water directly under her nose. It was too great a temptation. Snap! went
her jaws in a vain effort to land the scaly treasure, and the golden beetle
sank to the bottom of the river.
"There!" said the dog angrily, "what did I tell you? Now all our trouble
has been in vain--all on account of your stupidity."
For a time there was a bitter dispute, and the companions called each
other some very bad names--such as turtle and rabbit. Just as they were
starting away from the river, disappointed and discouraged, a friendly
frog who had by chance heard their conversation offered to fetch the
treasure from the bottom of the stream. No sooner said than done, and
after thanking this accommodating animal profusely, they turned
homeward once more.
When they reached the cottage the door was shut, and, bark as he
would, Blackfoot could not persuade his master to open it. There was
the sound of loud wailing inside.
"Mistress is broken-hearted," whispered the cat, "I will go to her and
make her happy."
So saying, she sprang lightly through a hole in the paper window,
which, alas! was too small and too far from the ground for the faithful
dog to enter.
A sad sight greeted the gaze of Whitehead. The son was lying on the
bed unconscious, almost dead for want of food, while his mother, in
despair, was rocking backwards and forwards wringing her wrinkled
hands and crying at the top of her voice for some one to come and save
them.
"Here I am, mistress," cried Whitehead, "and here is the treasure you
are weeping for. I have rescued it and brought it back to you."
The widow, wild with joy at sight of the beetle, seized the cat in her

scrawny arms and hugged the pet tightly to her bosom.
"Breakfast, son, breakfast! Wake up from your swoon! Fortune has
come again. We are saved from starvation!"
Soon a steaming hot meal was ready, and you may well imagine how
the old woman and her son, heaping praises upon Whitehead, filled the
beast's platter with good things, but never a word did they say of the
faithful dog, who remained outside sniffing the fragrant odours and
waiting in sad wonder, for all this time the artful cat had said nothing of
Blackfoot's part in the rescue of the golden beetle.
At last, when breakfast was over, slipping away from the others,
Whitehead jumped out through the hole in the window.
"Oh, my dear Blackfoot," she began laughingly, "you should have been
inside to see what a feast they gave me! Mistress was so delighted at
my bringing back her treasure that she could not give me enough to eat,
nor say enough kind things about me. Too bad, old fellow, that you are
hungry. You'd better run out into the street and hunt up a bone."
Maddened by the shameful treachery of his companion, the enraged
dog sprang upon the cat and in a few seconds had shaken her to death.
"So dies the one who forgets a friend and who loses honour," he cried
sadly, as he stood over the body of his companion.
Rushing out into the street, he proclaimed the treachery of Whitehead
to the members of his tribe, at the same time advising that all
self-respecting dogs should from that time onwards make war upon the
feline race.
And that is why the descendants of old Blackfoot, whether in China or
in the great countries of the West, have waged continual war upon the
children and grandchildren of Whitehead, for a thousand generations of
dogs have fought them and hated them with a great and lasting hatred.

THE GREAT BELL
[Illustration]
The mighty Yung-lo sat on the great throne surrounded by a hundred
attendants. He was sad, for he could think of no wonderful thing to do
for his country. He flirted his silken fan nervously and snapped his long
finger-nails in the impatience of despair.
"Woe is me!" he cried at last, his sorrow getting the better of his usual
calmness. "I have picked up the great capital and moved it from the
South to Peking and have built here a mighty city. I have surrounded
my city with a wall, even thicker and greater than the famous wall of
China. I have constructed in this city scores of temples