One day a man was walking across a slippery bridge over a river, carrying a bundle of firewood. Suddenly — splash! — his axe fell into the river. The man descended from the bridge to the bank and listened carefully.
And then from beneath the water emerged a cat. This was the Water Cat — the spirit of the river. His fur gleamed like the surface of the river in sunlight, and his eyes were green, like river weeds.
Your axe has just fallen into my river? — asked the spirit.
Yes, it's mine. Please return it to me!
I will return it, but only if you settle our dispute. Who is stronger — water or earth?
Earth, earth is stronger!
After these words the river spirit frowned and replied:
Do you doubt my strength? I shall perform three miracles before your very eyes! Climb onto my back!
The man climbed on, and the spirit soared into the air. How long they flew, no one knows, but they landed in a desert.
Do you see the desert? — asked the river spirit.
Yes, — answered the woodcutter.
Look then! — cried the Cat and struck the sand with his paw.
A small stream immediately began to flow from the hole that formed. The spirit struck even harder, and a small river flowed from the hole. It was larger than a stream, but no one would have called it a river. But then the Cat struck a third time, and a wide, full-flowing river poured from the hole. At once the earth around began to transform: shoots began to break through the surface. Another moment — and in place of the shoots appeared bright flowers, bushes with leaves rustling in the wind, and towering trees whose crowns touched the very sky.
That is what water can do! — laughed the water spirit. — Do you still not believe me?
I believe you, — answered the woodcutter.
Look further! Climb onto my back!
And again they were in flight. They landed once more, but this time in a field as dry as an autumn leaf. The spirit struck his paw again, and a spring burst forth from the hole.
The drooping ears of grain immediately began to straighten, and soon the field appeared golden.
Let us fly on! — commanded the spirit and soared into the air.
They flew for a long time, but at last the spirit stopped in mid-air, and the woodcutter understood what had alarmed and even angered him. They were flying directly over a river, and an island in the middle was ablaze.
But the spirit did not lose his composure. He waved his paw towards the fire, and the waters of the river seemed to go wild. The water churned, bubbled and finally surged onto the island. One last flicker of flame flashed, and the fire went out.
Do you see? — asked the spirit.
I do, — answered the woodcutter.
The spirit took the woodcutter back to his river and returned his axe to him.
And the woodcutter remembered the lesson about the power of water that had been taught to him for the rest of his days.
