Once upon a time, on one of those nights when the stars twinkled brightly over the world, the animals of Skyland did not find them shining as they wished. They all felt that something was wrong, sorely amiss and that they ought to go to someone for advice. And who could be better than the wise old lion?
So a little delegation was sent to say to him, “I say, Leo, come here and help us, won’t you? We keep feeling that something is very wrong up above us and we have come to you to help us out in the matter.”
But the lion said he did not understand. He had nothing to do with the stars, he believed, and could not say anything about them.
“Well, perhaps we don’t know much about it,” said the others, “but you know to shoot with a bow and arrows. Could you not shoot an arrow or two aloft and find out what is the matter? Or shall I do it? I can throw far,” said the deer.
So they all went out of their homes, looked up at the stars and then waited for a little to see what would happen. The lion said he thought the stars faded a little but that was all.
“I certainly think they are sometimes wrong,” said the elephant. “There is a curious twinkling in my ear that I like to get rid of.”
“Are not the stars a little further away from us?” asked the giraffe.
“What’s the matter, eh? What’s the matter?” asked a voice winding round coming just above their heads. It was the eagle soaring about.
“I’ll tell you,” said the lion. “You can see my stars go bright and dim from where you sit, I think.”
“Can you not do up there what I can do here?” asked the eagle.
“Are you as big?” asked the lion.
After a while, meaning or no meaning in all the remained quiet.
“What do you think caused the twinkling of the stars above,” asked one, “have you Auntie Caroline’s growing pains in your legs?”
“I don’t know what made them go thus,” said the lion, “but while before a case I woke I thought I saw someone then. I told the man in the moon and he persuaded me to sleep on, but as he sat there he warned me that I would not know what turn things might take when at last I would return. It is true. I see something by my side—would you know something.”
“Something unseen?” asked the elephant.
“See! I hurt your peace, my poor little stars! I wanted to fill my breakfast dish from the salt statue! But she turned. Ah! is it you?”
“Pray do tell me what is it? Something or someone!” began again the lion.
But he left the others and disappeared.
The only answer was a great deal of peace. Then another voice asked—
“Why did you ask if it were something unseen? Or is there something?”
But the lion crawled back into his yard.
Next day an eagle came. “Hollo, lion, there was news yesterday, eh? See!” and he brought a mouse which he had strangled to death.
All the animals of Skyland were long ago familiar (also) with the story of the stars going wrong. When they heard it all they felt just as their fathers had done long ago. And the fields and meadows were brighter at evening while contributing towards their brace, and all agreed at once to make the lion gifts. But it seemed very long to them before they were ready, it is true, and they all begged the lion not to end the performance by refusing what they sent.
“It would be a shame they should not go, without hearing a fly like them,” said the ant. “That is always best.”
But he shook his head all the time saying he could do better without. So they disappeared again in the fields and meadows, and the sky remained as before up aloft.
But all this was between the gypsy and the lark. One hundred or two sat behind, while on the other side came the secret carriers of the message. Several discovered that. And, one fine evening, all the stars could take a pint-peach drink.