THE HILL PEOPLE

Otago Witness, Issue 3911, 26 February 1929, Page 78

THE HILL PEOPLE

By Ruth Hebtelet. (Copyright.—For the Otago Witness.) The Wild Boar sweara by bls Betutliul Tusks, By the speed of his Legs, the Hare; And Bun-Tub swears by the Little White Flag That he gallantly waves In the air. The Wallaby swears by the Spring of Ms Tail, The Opossum—the Gloss of his Coat. The Ram, he swears by his Twisted Horn, By his Beard, the Black and White Goat The Wild Bull swears by his Powerful Neck, The Deer by his Antlers High, And Slinker the Stoat by his Cruel Teeth And the power of his Evil Eye. The Wild Horse arches his glossy neck And carries his head with grace, And swears by the Quivering Nostrils line That speak of the pride of his race. THE MUSIC MAN.

CHAPTER VII. —THE TALE OF UMGEE AND 000 LI POOGLI. Next morning Umgee and Oogli Poogli were awakened by a light tap on the door, and in walked the Sun W oinan. In her hands were two steaming cups of cocoa all frothy with cream. “ Ah,” said she brightly, “ you look better this morning, my friends. The swellings have almost disappeared. You slept well, I hope.” Umgee and Oogli Poogli looked strangely at the Sun Woman, for the sunshine shone in her hair, and in her smile, and in her eyes—the sunshine that glowed so radiantly from her heart. And into the hearts of Umgee and Oogli Poogli crept a great wonder and a great shame. Oogli Poogli sat up in bed. “ Will you believe, O Sun Woman,” said he brokenly, “that we did not understand? ” She checked him with a sunny smile. “ I know that, my friends. You believed that might was right. And might, of course, is mighty, but love is mightier. And it’s much pleasanter and happier, isn’t it? Now drink your cocoa while it’s hot. It’s a special brand, and I know you’ll like it.” Gratefully Umgee and Oogli Poogli took the cups from her hand, and, somehow, their faces seemed to

have lost their evil expressions. Perhaps they had caught some reflection from the sun that radiated from the Sun Woman. “We would like you to hear our story,” said Umgee humbly, “ for you have shown us the error of our ways, and, indeed, we should like to live on these hills, among such wonderful people.” This is the story that Umgee and Oogli Poogli told to the Music Man, and the Sun Woman, and Jack and Jill as they sat round the glowing fire in the little log hut. “ We lived, Umgee and I, with many others,” began Oogli Poogli, “on an island in the Pacific. Palm trees waved above us, and a great coral reef ran round our island. We spent our days fishing and bathing, and Umgee and I, being more adventurous than our friends, made a boat and sailed round the island. Further and further we ventured from the island, and more and more we learnt to handle our boat, in storm and sunshine. Then one day there came a mighty hurricane. Hungry waves dashed angrily over the coral reef, and our friends sought the shelter of their cosy firesides. But Umgee and I went out, that we might lash our boat high and dry beyond the reach of those hungry waves. The wind and the rain whipped our faces, and our spirits leapt to the mighty grandeur of the storm. He did not awe us, the Storm Fiend. Rather, we loved him. Then, in the distance, we saw the black smoke of a steamer fighting against the waves; we heard the fiendish yell of the Storm Fiend as he drove it on. “ Might is right, might is right,” he screamed, and soon the steamer was battered to pieces on the coral reef. A mighty and wondrous fellow, the Storm Fiend, thought Umgee and I. And none survived the wreck. Bits of wood and iron were washed up bn the beach, but nothing of value.” Here Umgee and Oogli Poogli exchanged glances. “ Nothing of value,” Umgee took up the tale, “ except one queer-looking bottle. Oogli Poogli and I found it next day, wedged between two pieces of coral. We pulled out the cork, and the bottle was full of small brown beans, on top of which was a piece of folded white paper. We opened the paper and this is what we lead:

He who eats these beans so brown Will gala great strength and fair renown.

Might is right, O might is right; Eat these beans and win your light. Then Oogli Poogli and I each ate a bean. “ We felt our muscles swell and swell. ‘ Might is right, might is right,’ that’s what the Storm Fiend had said. We returned to our island and by sheer force ruled the people. We visited the neighbouring islands, and there, likewise, we ruled by sheer force. No one loved us, but they dreaded our strength. In the meantime our beans were getting less and less. We tried to grow some, but the fierce hurricanes that sweep the islands destroyed them. Then one day we took our little boat and set sail for New Zealand, where we meant to find some sunny, sheltered hillside to grow our precious beans and replenish our store. For several days and several nights we sailed, and when our strength was getting low we ate our beans and were revived. At last wc reached these shores, and, landing in a sheltered cove, we hid our boat and journeyed inland in search of a suitable hillside. We had been searching for some weeks when we came upon these hills and decided that this was the very place to grow our beans. But to grow them successfully we wanted the hills to ourselves. So we lived in the limestone cave, and struck with our poisoned darts.” “ And now,” broke in Oogli Poogli, “ our plans seem all so stupid and silly. What is the use of might if people fear and detest one? ”

“ You, O Music Man, quelled the fiercest animals with nothing but words and a gentle voice. And you, O Sun Woman, with-the sunshine glowing in your eyes and in your smile, have taught us by your loving ways that in spite of our might we missed the biggest thing of all.”

“Are there any beans left?” asked the Music Man.

“ Just six,” said Umgee. “ Go, then, and bring them to me,” said the Music Man. Soon Umgee was back again at the little log hut, and in his luilids were six small, brown beans. Into the glowing flames the Music Man hurled the beans, and all watched them blaze and burn away. “And that,” said the Music Man, “ ends that story.” “ May we now seek our boat and go quietly home?” asked Oogli Poogli. “Oh, stay and live on the hills/’ said the Sun Woman. “ You can make a splendid home in the caves of the limestone cliff’s.”

So Umgee and Oogli Pocgli made themselves a snug home in the caves of the limestone cliffs, for by the loving kindness of the Music Man and the Sun Woman they had learnt the lesson that love is mightier than might.

FORGET-ME NOTS OF THE ANGELS. Star, star, I wonder what you are I You’re a baby of the moon, maybe! And one day soon you may grow into a moon But this is what you seem to say to me :

“ Oh! I’m a little forget-me-not, That the angels have placed in the sky, Just to keep you remembering, That’s what I am—and why.”

Stars, stars, Sirius and Mars, Jupiter and old Orion too. The scientists all say you are worlds just miles away, But this is what I always think of you.

Oh, you are little forget-me-nals That the angels have placed in the sky, Just to keep us remembering. That’s what you are—and why.

Stars, stars, twinkling little stars, You’ve filled the heavens full of peepholes bright. Oh tell me, is it true, are there angels peeping through To see if we are remembering, to-night?

For you are little forget-me-nots That the angels have placed in the sky, Just to keep up remembering, That’s what you are—and why. (To be continued.)