tightly as before.

"Talk to the bag," he said, "and guard it as carefully as if there was a
jewel in it."

That night the boy was wakened out of his soundest sleep by screams for
help in his room. There was the innkeeper running about, and that queer
stick was pounding him, first on the head, then on the feet, then on his
back, then in his face.

"Help! help!" he cried.

"Give me back my sheep," said the boy.

"Get it; it is hidden in the barn," said the innkeeper.

The boy went out and found his sheep in the barn and drove it away as
fast as he could, but he forgot about the innkeeper, and, maybe, that
stick is pounding him to this day.




ORPHEUS, THE SOUTH WIND

_Greek_


In the land of Thrace there lived, years ago, one who was called
Orpheus. He was the sweetest singer ever known. His voice was low and