When the great Flood was over and Noah had opened the door of the Ark there was a rush and scramble to get out, for the animals, never really good sailors, were very tired of the long voyage. It was good to be out in the free air and the bright sunshine again. And the fields, though still rather damp, smelled so sweet—much better than the Ark. And it was such a comfort to feel solid earth once more and to be able to stretch their legs again. Now, at last, their troubles were over—at least so they thought.
Though Noah counseled them to go forth and start anew they loitered on the way, and gave themselves up to the joy of living. But when night came they began to feel frightened, and lost their good spirits. Boarding so long In the Ark had made them forget how to take care of themselves. And then everything had been so washed away and changed, that they didn’t know which way to turn to find their old homes.
And now they were not so joyful at being free. They felt lonely, and were afraid, and huddled together to keep up their courage.
In the morning they all came trooping back to Noah, who, with his boys, was already hard at work breaking ground for a garden patch. And Mrs. Noah sighed. “Mercy me!” she exclaimed, “Shall we never see the last of them?”
The beasts that lived on meat complained that they could find nothing to eat, and were hungry.
Noah advised them to go and fish in the streams, though he thought it would be much simpler if they would all eat grass, which, he assured them, was very nourishing.
The lions and tigers, and some others, preferred the idea of fishing. The pelican and the flamingo were obliging and showed them just how to do it. But the animals didn’t succeed very well even though they wet their feet, which they never like to do. Now this made them feel cross, and they began to lose faith in Noah’s wisdom.
The elephants found fishing fun for a while, but decided that for them a vegetable diet was perfectly satisfactory, so of course they considered Noah a very wise man.
Owing to the recent dampness the green things grew fast, and the animals that lived on grass and plants became strong and sleek. But the meat-eaters grew thin, and were not happy. And they couldn’t understand why the others were. “It must be the grass that does it,” they reasoned.
So, though they didn’t want to, they seriously gave their minds — and their jaws—to the subject. They watched what others did, and then tried to do the same.
The cow was a favorite model as she seemed to do it so easily and with so much comfort. But the great cats found it hard to get the right jaw movement, for their long teeth were in the way. And then, to tell the truth, they really didn’t like grass at all.
Some of those who had come out of the Ark began at once to raise large families—the mosquitoes, the flies, and the mice. Noah worried over this for he had hoped to have them all come along together. It bid fair to upset the ideal balance he had dreamed of. The cat, at sight of the mice, went back to her old ways, and preyed on them. And trouble began, for then others remembered that they too used to eat meat and besides a grass diet had made them quite fierce.
And Noah found great difficulty in restoring peace, for the hungry beasts didn’t care anything about the future. What they wanted was something to eat now.
Mrs. Noah was greatly vexed. “Let the pesky things take care of their own troubles,” she cried, “we have bothered enough about them.”
But Noah groaned—for he still felt responsible. And the end of the Ark adventure seemed still far away.
Some way must be found to keep things going smoothly, at least until the creatures had time to increase, so that they would not disappear from the face of the earth. And he had dreamed of a golden age of peace—alas !
Ham, who always liked animals, got them off together for a council, and advised them to “organize.” Let them choose a king, and things would go better.
Some were perfectly sure that this would settle everything, while others didn’t see how it would change the food question.
But how to decide who should be king? The giraffe suggested a way—who could reach highest? The elephant—who was the strongest? The leopard—who was the most beautiful? The monkey—who could climb best? The alligator proposed—how about swimming? The cow said—who can eat the most grass?
Now this word grass produced bad feeling, for the tiger complained that he had eaten grass till he was “black in the face”—and was still hungry.
They talked and talked, and couldn’t agree, till at last the lion said, “I’ll be king,” and as no one had any better suggestion, that is how he became the king of the beasts, and has always been known as such ever since.
Great things were expected from this arrangement, and for a while there was peace.
The lion sat alone in his dignity—though he was still just as hungry.
The rhinoceros and the camel exchanged views about the new king, for they were all rather gossipy in those days.
The eagle didn’t mind him at all and boasted that he was free and could fly anywhere. “Well,” said the old hen, “being a king may be all very fine and all that, but give me a comfortable, peaceful life, and enough to eat. ” And since the old hen said this many people have said and thought exactly the same thing. The elephant and the wolf discussed grass diet. “Very strengthening,” assured the elephant. “I don’t find it so,” said the wolf; “I eat and eat and still have that ‘all gone’ feeling, and it makes me feel green, too. ”
And now Noah found that though it had been a big task to get the animals together and ‘^save” them, it was a bigger one to scatter and get rid of them. Mrs. Noah even said that either those animals would have to move or she would.
Ham’s wife complained that the moles were spoiling her seed patch. “Well, well, it’s too bad, my dear, but we must live and let live, ” encouraged Noah, “ But they won’t let my lettuce live. ”
Said the hippopotamus to the monkey, “Now those people are just laying out trouble for themselves. The more things they have the more they want, and bye-and-bye they’ll just be working every minute. It’s foolish, I say, we’re better off, we’ve got what we want and we know it. No progress for me, no sir, here I stick. ”
Since then the hippopotamus has refused to learn anything new. No one has ever been able even to teach him to count to five.
The weather at that time was very unsettled, and when it rained it rained hard. And the homeless creatures were restless. At first, they had all thought it fine to be free—to get away from the Ark, but the domestic animals now decided that a home and shelter were better than useless liberty.
And even the wild beasts began to see the advantages of this—at least for bad weather.
As the storms grew worse, Noah thought it might be better to go back to the Ark for a while. But the creatures, though wet and cold, said, “Never again.” They were agreed on that. No matter how hard it rained they would perish rather than go near the Ark again—for all their troubles had begun there.
And now, after the rains, came a hot, muggy spell. They were all very uncomfortable, and very irritable. After too much rain there was too little. And the garden dried up, and the grass was burned.
The animals in their discomfort blamed Noah for “saving” them for this. They were not only hot, but hungry too. And then the mosquitoes multiplied so fast that they were a pest. They had no trouble in finding food.
Noah was bothered by this, and he felt that perhaps he had made a mistake in saving them. Mrs. Noah complained that the whole thing was a mistake, that they would have done much better to have left it alone.
And Noah tried in vain to explain.
Dissatisfaction increased. The carnivorous beasts, always hungry, and steadily growing thinner, became desperate. They decided to hold a meeting—the password was “Meat.”
And now conspiracy raised its head. The lion protested that though king of the beasts he was losing his strength so fast that the grass-eaters bullied him. He said he must have more nourishing food.
The fox suggested chickens. The grizzly bear seemed doubtful. He didn’t think chickens would make much of a meal for that crowd. And now the poor beasts, grown so thin that their fur didn’t fit them, decided that the vegetarian movement was a failure—they had given it a fair trial.
Then they rebelled against Noah’s rule. They had been happy before he induced them to go voyaging, and they cried, “Give us back the old days. ” They would have been good if they had had enough to eat. And now there were food riots, and wild excitement and disorder. But Noah’s sons, with firebrands, managed to drive off the trouble makers. And Mrs. Noah wielded her broom and said, “Scat.” Since that day there has never been peace and trust among the animals.
So ended, alas, Noah’s beautiful dream of a golden age of peace. And though he often yearned to tell the story of his cruise to some one, he at least had the satisfaction of not having to listen to criticisms from neighbors.
Now the wind blew, gusty and strong—for the weather conditions were continually in a state of unrest. And there was no peace anywhere. Gales of mighty strength swept the landscape, and the animals were blown about. The lean and hungry beasts were now grown so light and weak that they could not resist, nor even hold on, and suffered.
And they bitterly complained that if they had been let alone anything which could have happened would have been better than what they now had to endure.
Storms and more storms. Things went from bad to worse.
Something tremendous was about to happen.
The old earth could not stand its long soaking without some effect. And when the dampness had reached down into its heart of fire there were rumblings and creakings, and crackings and roaring. And now no one could tell what would happen nex
Then suddenly, with roar and crash the world was torn asunder. Earthquake and volcano! Fire and flame, and deafening racket!
And the bewildered beasts were hurled into the air, and sent scampering off in terror, sure that the end of the world had come. ‘‘There now,” said Mrs. Noah, “that ought to start them.”
Then the waters rushed in. And night came down black and sudden. And the rain fell.
“ The Deluge ! The Deluge again ! ” thought the terrified creatures. Some one started the alarm, “The Ark! the Ark is coming!” Now this was the last straw needed, and, in wild panic, they fled in every direction. This decided them. Any escape from another voyage, even the fearful unknown was better than that.
They didn’t want to be “saved” again.
And so at last they really went forth.
And now began great migrations, and a general house-hunting, looking for new—and safer homes—since they couldn’t find the old ones.
In the inrush of the waters the Polar bears found a cake of ice and at once were happy again. Icebergs and the aurora afar off showed the way, and they paddled and swam towards the North Pole, and there have stayed ever since, for there at least they can keep cool.
The albatross set sail—that is, spread his wings—and flew to the south. While the others went east or west as seemed best. And scattered over every part of the world.
In the great migrations they went off in pairs, as they had come together, and in time young were born—and a new life was begun. Then the parents had to find food to support the little ones. And they managed to do it, somehow, though not without friction. The different animals drifted apart, and didn’t trust each other, and the old easy-going spirit disappeared—getting a living for themselves and the children kept them busy.
There were, alas, frequent attacks, but each in its own way learned to defend itself. The birds flew high, the monkeys took to trees, the rabbits burrowed underground, and the herbivorous animals used their horns and hoofs against the long teeth and claws of the carnivorous beasts.
When the creatures, or nearly all of them, had gone Ham found things dull, and became restless. He was of a wandering disposition, and began to travel. In time, many years after, he journeyed as far as Africa—so it has been said—and here he sometimes met old acquaintances of the Ark days.
In the trees the monkeys would chatter, boasting that their ancestors used to be a sea-faring people—this was what the story of the Ark had come to.
Ham reared a large family, and his descendants, from living in a hot country, have generally been quite dark in complexion.
Noah, in his relief, said, “I am glad they are gone. I tried my best but I could not solve that food problem, they must work it out for themselves.” And Mrs. Noah answered, “Let them eat each other up, if they want to. There are too many of them anyway.”
Now Noah, who had never really cared for the sea, and was naturally a husbandman, took great pleasure in working in his garden, and here he quietly grew to be a very old man.
He would often ruminate, and say, “Do you remember that day, my dear—” “Now, Pa, don’t,” his wife would answer. “I know you want to talk of that old Ark experience. I say let bygones be bygones.” Noah sighed. And in time, some hundreds of years later, he even began to wonder if it were a true story after all—or only a dream of his younger days.
