The
little Half-Chick cried out,--
"Water, don't drown me! Stay down,
don't come so high!"
But the Water said, "Little Half-Chick,
little Half-Chick, when I was in trouble
you would not help me," and came higher
than ever.
Now the Water grew warm, hot, hotter,
frightfully hot; the little Half-Chick cried
out, "Do not burn so hot, Fire! You are
burning me to death! Stop!"
But the Fire said, "Little Half-Chick,
little Half-Chick, when I was in trouble
you would not help me," and burned hotter
than ever.
Just as the little Half-Chick thought he
must suffocate, the Cook took the cover
off, to look at the dinner. "Dear me,"
she said, "this chicken is no good; it is
burned to a cinder." And she picked the
little Half-Chick up by one leg and threw
him out of the window.
In the air he was caught by a breeze
and taken up higher than the trees. Round
and round he was twirled till he was so
dizzy he thought he must perish. "Don't
blow me so? Wind," he cried, "let me
down!"
"Little Half-Chick, little Half-Chick,"
said the Wind, "when I was in trouble
you would not help me!" And the Wind
blew him straight up to the top of the
church steeple, and stuck him there, fast!
There he stands to this day, with his one
eye, his one wing, and his one leg. He
cannot hoppity-kick any more, but he turns
slowly round when the wind blows, and
keeps his head toward it, to hear what it
says.
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