|
Once upon
a time...
Once upon a time there was a handsome black Spanish hen, who
had a large brood of chickens. They were all fine, plump little
birds, except the youngest, who was quite unlike his brothers and
sisters. Indeed, he was such a strange, queer-looking creature, that
when he first chipped his shell his mother could scarcely believe
her eyes, he was so different from the twelve other fluffy, downy,
soft little chicks who nestled under her wings. This one looked just
as if he had been cut in two. He had only one leg, and one wing, and
one eye, and he had half a head and half a beak. His mother shook
her head sadly as she looked at him and said:
'My youngest born is only a half-chick. He can never grow up a tall
handsome cock like his brothers. They will go out into the world and
rule over poultry yards of their own; but this poor little fellow
will always have to stay at home with his mother.' And she called
him Medio Pollito, which is Spanish for half-chick.
Now though Medio Pollito was such an odd, helpless-looking little
thing, his mother soon found that he was not at all willing to
remain under her wing and protection. Indeed, in character he was as
unlike his brothers and sisters as he was in appearance. They were
good, obedient chickens, and when the old hen chicked after them,
they chirped and ran back to her side. But Medio Pollito had a
roving spirit in spite of his one leg, and when his mother called to
him to return to the coop, he pretended that he could not hear,
because he had only one ear.
When she took the whole family out for a walk in the fields, Medio
Pollito would hop away by himself, and hide among the Indian corn.
Many an anxious minute his brothers and sisters had looking for him,
while his mother ran to and fro cackling in fear and dismay.
As he grew older he became more self-willed and disobedient, and his
manner to his mother was often very rude, and his temper to the
other chickens very disagreeable.
One day he had been out for a longer expedition than usual in the
fields. On his return he strutted up to his mother with the peculiar
little hop and kick which was his way of walking, and cocking his
one eye at her in a very bold way he said:
'Mother, I am tired of this life in a dull farmyard, with nothing
but a dreary maize field to look at. I'm off to Madrid to see the
King.'
'To Madrid, Medio Pollito!' exclaimed his mother; 'why, you silly
chick, it would be a long journey for a grown-up cock, and a poor
little thing like you would be tired out before you had gone half
the distance. No, no, stay at home with your mother, and some day,
when you are bigger, we will go a little journey together.'
But Medio Pollito had made up his mind, and he would not listen to
his mother's advice, nor to the prayers and entreaties of his
brothers and sisters.
'What is the use of our all crowding each other up in this poky
little place?' he said. 'When I have a fine courtyard of my own at
the King's palace, I shall perhaps ask some of you to come and pay
me a short visit,' and scarcely waiting to say good-bye to his
family, away he stumped down the high road that led to Madrid.
'Be sure that you are kind and civil to everyone you meet,' called
his mother, running after him; but he was in such a hurry to be off,
that he did not wait to answer her, or even to look back.
A little later in the day, as he was taking a short cut through a
field, he passed a stream. Now the stream was all choked up, and
overgrown with weeds and water-plants, so that its waters could not
flow freely.
'Oh! Medio Pollito,' it cried, as the half-chick hopped along its
banks, 'do come and help me by clearing away these weeds.'
'Help you, indeed!' exclaimed Medio Pollito, tossing his head, and
shaking the few feathers in his tail. 'Do you think I have nothing
to do but to waste my time on such trifles? Help yourself, and don't
trouble busy travellers. I am off to Madrid to see the King,' and
hoppity-kick, hoppity-kick, away stumped Medio Pollito.
A little later he came to a fire that had been left by some gipsies
in a wood. It was burning very low, and would soon be out.
'Oh! Medio Pollito,' cried the fire, in a weak, wavering voice as
the half-chick approached, 'in a few minutes I shall go quite out,
unless you put some sticks and dry leaves upon me. Do help me, or I
shall die!'
'Help you, indeed!' answered Medio Pollito. 'I have other things to
do. Gather sticks for yourself, and don't trouble me. I am off to
Madrid to see the King,' and hoppity-kick, hoppity-kick, away
stumped Medio Pollito.
The next morning, as he was getting near Madrid, he passed a large
chestnut tree, in whose branches the wind was caught and entangled.
'Oh! Medio Pollito,' called the wind, 'do hop up here, and help me
to get free of these branches. I cannot come away, and it is so
uncomfortable.'
'It is your own fault for going there,' answered Medio Pollito. 'I
can't waste all my morning stopping here to help you. Just shake
yourself off, and don't hinder me, for I am off to Madrid to see the
King,' and hoppity-kick, hoppity-kick, away stumped Medio Pollito in
great glee, for the towers and roofs of Madrid were now in sight.
When he entered the town he saw before him a great splendid house,
with soldiers standing before the gates. This he knew must be the
King's palace, and he determined to hop up to the front gate and
wait there until the King came out. But as he was hopping past one
of the back windows the King's cook saw him:
'Here is the very thing I want,' he exclaimed, 'for the King has
just sent a message to say that he must have chicken broth for his
dinner,' and opening the window he stretched out his arm, caught
Medio Pollito, and popped him into the broth-pot that was standing
near the fire. Oh! how wet and clammy the water felt as it went over
Medio Pollito's head, making his feathers cling to his side.
'Water, water!' he cried in his despair, 'do have pity upon me and
do not wet me like this.'
'Ah! Medio Pollito,' replied the water, 'you would not help me when
I was a little stream away on the fields, now you must be punished.'
Then the fire began to burn and scald Medio Pollito, and he danced
and hopped from one side of the pot to the other, trying to get away
from the heat, and crying out in pain:
Fire, fire! do not scorch me like this; you can't think how it
hurts.'
'Ah! Medio Pollito,' answered the fire, 'you would not help me when
I was dying away in the wood. You are being punished.'
At last, just when the pain was so great that Medio Pollito thought
he must die, the cook lifted up the lid of the pot to see if the
broth was ready for the King's dinner.
'Look here!' he cried in horror, 'this chicken is quite useless. It
is burnt to a cinder. I can't send it up to the royal table;' and
opening the window he threw Medio Pollito out into the street. But
the wind caught him up, and whirled him through the air so quickly
that Medio Pollito could scarcely breathe, and his heart beat
against his side till he thought it would break.
'Oh, wind!' at last he gasped out, 'if you hurry me along like this
you will kill me. Do let me rest a moment, or--' but he was so
breathless that he could not finish his sentence.
'Ah! Medio Pollito,' replied the wind, 'when I was caught in the
branches of the chestnut tree you would not help me; now you are
punished.' And he swirled Medio Pollito over the roofs of the houses
till they reached the highest church in the town, and there he left
him fastened to the top of the steeple.
And there stands Medio Pollito to this day. And if you go to Madrid,
and walk through the streets till you come to the highest church,
you will see Medio Pollito perched on his one leg on the steeple,
with his one wing drooping at his side, and gazing sadly out of his
one eye over the town.
The Half-Chick
from the Green Fairy Book
Story Edited
by Andrew Lang |
