“I wonder how I can get over?” said the little boy; and the wise wind whispered: 

“There is always a way to get over the stream.  Follow me! follow me!”

[Illustration:  “There is always a way to get over the stream, Follow me!  Follow me!”]

Then he followed the sound of the wise wind’s voice, and the wind blew against a tall pine tree, and the pine tree fell across the creek, and lay there, a great round foot-log, where the little boy might step.  He made his way over, and thanked the wise wind; and he asked:—­

“Wise wind, wise wind, blowing so gay!  Carry a message for me to-day:  My love to my mother, wherever she be; I know she is always thinking of me.”

The wind blew back to carry the message, and the little boy made haste on his journey.  His way lead through a meadow, where the clover grew and the white sheep and baby lambs were feeding together in the sunshine.

On one side of this meadow flowed a silver shining river, and the child wandered up and down the bank to find some way to cross, for he knew that he must go on.

As he walked there, a man called a carpenter found him, and said to him:—­

“There is always a way to get over the stream.  Follow me! follow me!”

Then the little boy followed the carpenter, and the carpenter and his men built a bridge of iron and wood that reached across from bank to bank.  And when the bridge was finished, the child ran over in safety; and after he had thanked the carpenter, he said:—­

“Carpenter, carpenter, on your way!  Carry a message for me to-day:  My love to my mother, wherever she be, I know she is always thinking of me.”

The carpenter gladly consented; and after he had turned back to carry the message, the little boy followed the path, which led up hill over rocks and steep places, through brambles and briars, until his feet grew weary; and when he came down into the valley again, he saw a river that was very dark and very deep.

There was no white swan or wise wind to help him.  No tree in the forest could bridge it over, and the carpenter and his men were far away.

“I must get over.  There is a way,” said the little boy bravely; and, as he sat down to rest, he heard a murmuring sound.  Looking down, he spied a tiny boat fastened to a willow tree.

    “I am the boat with a helping oar,
    To carry you over from shore to shore,”

repeated the boat; and when the little boy had unfastened it, he sprang in, and began to row himself over the dark water.

As he rowed, he saw a tiny bird flying above him.  The bird needed no boat or bridge, for its wings were strong; and when the little boy saw it, he cried:—­

“Little bird, little bird, flying so gay!  Carry a message for me to-day:  My love to my mother, wherever she be; I know she is always thinking of me.”

The little bird flew swiftly back to carry the message, and the boy rowed on till he reached the opposite shore.  After he had thanked the boat with its helping oar, he tied it to a tree as he had found it, and then hastened away, singing his happy song again.