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THE LAUGHTER OF PETERKIN




[Illustration: The king saw a fountain of exceeding beauty.

  _Frontis._]
]




THE LAUGHTER OF PETERKIN.

  “A RETELLING OF OLD TALES OF
  THE CELTIC WONDERWORLD.” by

  ⋅ FIONA MACLEOD ⋅

  [Illustration]

  ⋅DRAWINGS⋯BY⋯SUNDERLAND⋯ROLLINSON⋅§⋅

  ⋅LONDON⋅
  ⋅ARCHIBALD⋅CONSTABLE⋅&⋅CO⋅
  ⋅1897⋅




      TO
        ISLA,
          EILIDH,
            FIONA,
              AND
                IVOR


[Illustration]




CONTENTS


                                                  PAGE
  _PROLOGUE._ THE LAUGHTER OF PETERKIN               9

  THE FOUR WHITE SWANS                              33

  THE FATE OF THE SONS OF TURENN                   117

  DARTHOOL AND THE SONS OF USNA                    177

  _NOTES_                                          281




ILLUSTRATIONS

BY SUNDERLAND ROLLINSON


  THE KING SAW A FOUNTAIN OF EXCEEDING
    BEAUTY                                  _Frontispiece_

  AS SHE TOUCHED FIONULA, LIR’S FAIR YOUNG
    DAUGHTER BECAME A BEAUTIFUL SNOW-WHITE
    SWAN                            _To face page_      33

  TURENN INTERCEDING FOR HIS SONS         "            117

  A GREAT RAVEN, GLOSSY BLACK, AND BURNISHED
    IN THE SUN RAYS                 _To face page_     177




[Illustration]


The Laughter of Peterkin


[Illustration]




The Laughter of Peterkin


At the rising of the moon, Peterkin awoke, and laughed. He was in his
little white bed near the open window, so that when a moonbeam wavered
from amid the branches of the great poplar, falling suddenly upon his
tangled curls and yellowing them with a ripple of pale gold, it was as
though a living thing stole in out of the June night.

He had not awaked at first. The moonbeam seemed caught in a tangle:
then it glanced along a crescent tress on the pillow: sprang back like
a startled bird: flickered hither and thither above the little sleeping
face: and at last played idly on the closed eyelids with their long
dark eyelashes. It was then that Peterkin awoke.

When he opened his eyes he sat up, and so the moonbeam fell into the
two white cups of his tiny hands. He held it, but like a yellow eel it
wriggled away, and danced mockingly upon the counterpane.

With a sleepy smile he turned and looked out of the window. How dark
it was out there! That white moth which wavered to and fro made the
twilight like a shadowy wall. Then upon this wall Peterkin saw a
great fantastic shape. It grew and grew, and spread out huge arms and
innumerable little hands: and in its shadow-face it had seven shining
eyes. Peterkin stared, awe-struck. Then there was a dance of moonshine,
a cascade of trickling, rippling yellow, and he saw that the shape
in the night was the familiar poplar, and that its arms were the
big boughs and branches where the spotted mavis and the black merle
sang each morning, and that the innumerable little hands were the
ever-tremulous, ever-dancing, round little leaves, and that the seven
glittering eyes were only seven stars that had caught among the topmost
twigs.


II

Peterkin was very sleepy, but before his head sank back to the pillow
he saw something which caused him to hold his breath, and made his
eyes grow so round and large that they were like the little pools one
sees on the hill-side.

Every here and there he saw tiny yellow and green lives slipping and
sliding along and in and out of the branches of the poplar. Sometimes
they were all pale yellow, like gold; sometimes of a shimmering green