d, the turtle, to carry loads on their backs.
"Why it's just the custom," his father had replied--the answer always
given when Bamboo asked a question, "just the custom." The boy had tried
to imagine it all for himself, but had never been quite sure that he
was right, and now, joy of all joys, he was about to enter the very
turtle-room itself. Surely, once inside, he could find some answer
to this puzzle of his childhood.

Breathless, he dashed through the doorway, fearing every minute that
some one would notice the open gates and close them before he could
enter. Just in front of the giant turtle he fell in a little heap on the
floor, which was covered inch-deep with dust. His face was streaked, his
clothes were a sight to behold; but Bamboo cared nothing for such
trifles. He lay there for a few moments, not daring to move. Then,
hearing a noise outside, he crawled under the ugly stone beast and
crouched in his narrow hiding-place, as still as a mouse.

"There, there!" said a deep voice. "See what you are doing, stirring up
such a dust! Why, you will strangle me if you are not careful."

It was the turtle speaking, and yet Bamboo's father had often told him
that it was not alive. The boy lay trembling for a minute, too much
frightened to get up and run.

"No use in shaking so, my lad," the voice continued, a little more
kindly. "I suppose all boys are alike--good for nothing but kicking up
a dust." He finished this sentence with a hoarse chuckle, and the boy,
seeing that he was laughing, looked up with wonder at the strange
creature.

"I meant no harm in coming," said the child finally. "I only wanted to
look at you more closely."

"Oh, that was it, hey? Well, that is strange. All the others come and
stare at the tablet on my back. Sometimes they read aloud the nonsense
written there about dead emperors and their titles, but they never so
much as look at me, at _me_ whose father was one of the great four who
made the world."

Bamboo's eyes shone with wonder. "What! _your_ father helped make the
world?" he gasped.

"Well, not my father exactly, but one of my grandfathers, and it amounts
to the same thing, doesn't it. But, hark! I hear a voice. The keeper is
coming back. Run up and close those doors, so he won't notice that they
have not been locked. Then you may hide in the corner there until he has
passed. I have something more to tell you."

Bamboo did as he was told. It took all his strength to swing the h