At last, to his joy, he saw some water tric-kling down over the edge of a rock.  He knew that there was a spring farther up.  In the wet season, a swift stream of water always poured down here; but now it came only one drop at a time.

The king leaped from his horse.  He took a little silver cup from his hunting bag.  He held it so as to catch the slowly falling drops.

It took a long time to fill the cup; and the king was so thirsty that he could hardly wait.  At last it was nearly full.  He put the cup to his lips, and was about to drink.

All at once there was a whir-ring sound in the air, and the cup was knocked from his hands.  The water was all spilled upon the ground.

The king looked up to see who had done this thing.  It was his pet hawk.

The hawk flew back and forth a few times, and then alighted among the rocks by the spring.

The king picked up the cup, and again held it to catch the tric-kling drops.

This time he did not wait so long.  When the cup was half full, he lifted it toward his mouth.  But before it had touched his lips, the hawk swooped down again, and knocked it from his hands.

And now the king began to grow angry.  He tried again; and for the third time the hawk kept him from drinking.

The king was now very angry indeed.

“How do you dare to act so?” he cried.  “If I had you in my hands, I would wring your neck!”

Then he filled the cup again.  But before he tried to drink, he drew his sword.

“Now, Sir Hawk,” he said, “this is the last time.”

He had hardly spoken, before the hawk swooped down and knocked the cup from his hand.  But the king was looking for this.  With a quick sweep of the sword he struck the bird as it passed.

The next moment the poor hawk lay bleeding and dying at its master’s feet.

“That is what you get for your pains,” said Genghis Khan.

But when he looked for his cup, he found that it had fallen between two rocks, where he could not reach it.

“At any rate, I will have a drink from that spring,” he said to himself.

With that he began to climb the steep bank to the place from which the water trickled.  It was hard work, and the higher he climbed, the thirst-i-er he became.

At last he reached the place.  There indeed was a pool of water; but what was that lying in the pool, and almost filling it?  It was a huge, dead snake of the most poi-son-ous kind.

The king stopped.  He forgot his thirst.  He thought only of the poor dead bird lying on the ground below him.

[Illustration]

“The hawk saved my life!” he cried; “and how did I repay him?  He was my best friend, and I have killed him.”

He clam-bered down the bank.  He took the bird up gently, and laid it in his hunting bag.  Then he mounted his horse and rode swiftly home.  He said to himself,—­