“Ask the moon,” said the swallow. “The moon sees everywhere, and she will tell you. I am flying away to warmer countries, for the winter will soon be here. Goodbye, poor pool.”
At night, when the moon rose, and the pool looked up and saw its beautiful white face, it remembered the swallow’s words, and called out to ask its aid.
“Find me my tree,” it prayed; “you shone through its branches and know it well, and you can see all over the world; look for my tree, and tell me where they have taken it. Perhaps they have torn it in pieces or burnt it up.”
“Nay,” cried the moon, “they have done neither, for I saw it a few hours ago when I shone near it. They have taken it many miles away and it is planted in a big garden, but it has not taken root in the earth, and its foliage is fading. The men who took it prize it heartily, and strangers come from far and near to look at it, because they say it is so rare, and there are only one or two like it in the world.”
On hearing this the pool felt itself swell with pride that the tree should be so much admired; but then it cried in anguish, “And I shall never see it again, for I can never move from here.”
“That is nonsense,” cried a little cloud that was sailing near; “I was once in the earth like you. Tomorrow, if the sun shines brightly, he will draw you up into the sky, and you can sail along till you find your tree.”
“Is that true?” cried the pool, and all that night it rested in peace waiting for the sun to rise. Next day there were no clouds, and when the pool saw the sun shining it cried, “Draw me up into the sky, dear Sun, that I may be a little cloud and sail all the world over, till I can find my beloved tree.”
When the sun heard it, he threw down hundreds of tiny golden threads which dropped over the pool, and slowly and gradually it began to change and grow thinner and lighter, and to rise through the air, till at last it had quite left the earth, and where it had lain before, there was nothing but a dry hole, but the pool itself was transformed into a tiny cloud, and was sailing above in the blue sky in the sunshine. There were many other little clouds in the sky, but our little cloud kept apart from them all. It could see far and near over a great space of country, but nowhere could it espy the tree, and again it turned to the sun for help. “Can you see?” it cried. “You who see everywhere, where is my tree?”
“You can’t see it yet,” answered the sun, “for it is away on the other side of the world, but presently the wind will begin to blow and it will blow you till you find it.”
Then the wind arose, and the cloud sailed along swiftly, looking everywhere as it went for the tree. It could have had a merry time if it had not longed so for its friend. Everywhere was the golden sunlight shining through the bright blue sky, and the other clouds tumbled and danced in the wind and laughed for joy.
“Why do you not come and dance with us?” they cried; “why do you sail on so rapidly?”
“I cannot stay, I am seeking a lost friend,” answered the cloud, and it scudded past them, leaving them to roll over and over, and tumble about, and change their shapes, and divide and separate, and play a thousand pranks.
For many hundred miles the wind blew the little cloud, then it said, “Now I am tired and shall take you no further, but soon the west wind will come and it will take you on; goodbye.” And at once the wind stopped blowing and dropped to rest on the earth; and the cloud stood still in the sky and looked all around.
“I shall never find it,” it sighed. “It will be dead before I come.”
Presently the sun went down and the moon rose, then the west wind began to blow gently and moved the cloud slowly along.
“Which way should I go, where is it?” entreated the cloud.
“I know; I will take you straight to it,” said the west wind. “The north wind has told me. I blew by the tree today; it was drooping, but when I told it that you had risen to the sky and were seeking it, it revived and tried to lift its branches. They have planted it in a great garden, and there are railings round it and no one may touch it; and there is one gardener who has nothing to do but to attend to it, and people come from far and near to look at it because it is so rare, and they have only found one or two others like it, but it longs to be back in the desert, stooping over you and seeing its face in your water.”
“Make haste, then,” cried the cloud, “lest before I reach it I fall to pieces with joy at the thought of seeing it.”
“How foolish you are!” said the wind. “Why should you give yourself up for a tree? You might dance about in the sky for long yet, and then you might drop into the sea and mix with the waves and rise again with them to the sky, but if you fall about the tree you will go straight into the dark earth, and perhaps you will always remain there, for at the roots of the tree they have made a deep hole and the sun cannot draw you up through the earth under the branches.”
“Then that will be what I long for,” cried the cloud. “For then I can lie in the dark where no one may see me,
