It stood up in a high peaked cone, and smoke rolled out from it endlessly along the sky.  At night, the Fire Spirits danced, and the glare reddened the Big Water far out.

There the Counsellor said to the Boy, “Stay thou here till I bring thee a brand from the burning; be ready and right for running, for I shall be far spent when I come again, and the Fire Spirits will pursue me.”

Then he went up to the mountain; and the Fire Spirits only laughed when they saw him, for he looked so slinking, inconsiderable, and mean, that none of them thought harm from him.  And in the night, when they were at their dance about the mountain, the Coyote stole the fire, and ran with it down the slope of the burning mountain.  When the Fire Spirits saw what he had done they streamed out after him, red and angry, with a humming sound like a swarm of bees.  But the Coyote was still ahead; the sparks of the brand streamed out along his flanks, as he carried it in his mouth; and he stretched his body to the trail.

The Boy saw him coming, like a falling star against the mountain; he heard the singing sound of the Fire Spirits close behind, and the labouring breath of the Counsellor.  And when the good beast panted down beside him, the Boy caught the brand from his jaws and was off, like an arrow from a bent bow.  Out he shot on the homeward path, and the Fire Spirits snapped and sang behind him.  But fast as they pursued he fled faster, till he saw the next runner standing in his place, his body bent for the running.  To him he passed it, and it was off and away, with the Fire Spirits raging in chase.

So it passed from hand to hand, and the Fire Spirits tore after it through the scrub, till they came to the mountains of the snows; these they could not pass.  Then the dark, sleek runners with the backward streaming brand bore it forward, shining starlike in the night, glowing red in sultry noons, violet pale in twilight glooms, until they came in safety to their own land.

And there they kept it among stones and fed it with small sticks, as the Counsellor advised; and it kept the people warm.

Ever after the Boy was called the Fire-Bringer; and ever after the Coyote bore the sign of the bringing, for the fur along his flanks was singed and yellow from the flames that streamed backward from the brand.

THE BURNING OF THE RICEFIELDS[1]

[Footnote 1:  Adapted from Gleanings in Buddha-Fields, by Lafcadio Hearn.  (Kegan Paul, Trench, Truebner and Co.  Ltd. 5s. net.)]

Once there was a good old man who lived up on a mountain, far away in Japan.  All round his little house the mountain was flat, and the ground was rich; and there were the ricefields of all the people who lived in the village at the mountain’s foot.  Mornings and evenings, the old man and his little grandson, who lived with him, used to look far down on the people at work in the village, and watch the blue sea which lay all round the land, so close that there was no room for fields below, only for houses.  The little boy loved the ricefields, dearly, for he knew that all the good food for all the people came from them; and he often helped his grand father to watch over them.